Oscar hesitated, then the grimness of his face relaxed and he smiled.
“They cared for Henderson’s stock after a fashion,” he said, “for they knew it might be a starvation winter for them otherwise. The calf they evidently did not want to feed and turned it out into the woods. When they feared that I would get some good out of it they came over to fetch it. But they went home empty-handed.”
Hugh had a quick recollection of Half-Breed Jake standing in the postoffice with the brown bear’s skin in his hand and of the shrinking claimant. Ole Peterson, slipping away into a corner. There were not many people, he thought, who could successfully dispute a question of ownership with the Pirate of Jasper Peak.
He had finished his breakfast and began to feel, once more, an overwhelming sleepiness. In spite of the brightness of the morning sun making squares upon the floor, in spite of the pressing nature of his errand and the mystery of the green forest outside, his eyes were dropping shut. One
