"
Macdonald's keen brain followed the facts as the nose of a bloodhound
does a trail. Holt, an open enemy of his, had reached town only two days
before. He had bought one of the best and swiftest dog teams in the
North and had let slip before witnesses the remark that Macdonald would
soon find out what he wanted with the outfit. The bank had been robbed
after midnight. To file open the grill and to blow up the safe must
have taken several hours. Before morning the dogs of Holt had taken the
trail. If their owner were with them, it was a safe bet that the sled
carried forty thousand dollars in Alaska gold dust.
So far the mind of the Scotchman followed the probabilities logically,
but at this point it made a jump. There were at least two robbers. He
was morally sure of that, for this was not a one-man job. Now, if Holt
had with him a companion, who of all those in Kusiak was the most likely
man? He was a friendless, crabbed old fellow. Since coming to Kusiak old
Gideon had been seen constantly with one man. Together they had driven
out the day before and tried his new team. They had been with each other
at dinner and had later left the hotel together. The name of the man who
had been so friendly with old Holt was Gordon Elliot--and Elliot not
only was another enemy of Macdonald, but had very good reasons for
getting out of the country just now.
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