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Book, page 141 / 161 traveled a thousand miles in the last few weeks. It was not this thought that sent the strange and chilling thrill up his back; but the sudden fear that in some strange way a whisper of the truth might have found its way down into the south--the truth of what had happened on the Gray Loon--and that this travel-worn stranger wore under his caribou-skin coat the badge of the Royal Northwest Mounted Police. For that instant it was almost a terror that possessed him, and he stood mute. The stranger had uttered only an amazed exclamation before. Now he said, with his eyes on Baree: "God save us, but you've got the poor devil in a right proper mess, haven't you?" There was something in the voice that reassured McTaggart. It was not a suspicious voice, and he saw that the stranger was more interested in the captured animal than in himself. He drew a deep breath. "A trap robber," he said. The stranger was staring still more closely at Baree. He thrust his gun stock downward in the snow and drew nearer to him. "God save us again--a dog!" he exclaimed. From behind, McTaggart was watching the man with the eyes of a ferret. "Yes, a dog," he answered. "A wild dog, half wolf at least. He's robbed me of a thousand dollars' worth of fur this winter." The stranger squatted himself before Baree, with his mittened hands resting on his knees, and his white teeth gleaming in a half smile. "You poor devil!" he said sympathetically. "So you're a trap robber, eh? An outlaw? And--the police have got you! And--God save us once more--they haven't played you a very square game!" He rose and faced McTaggart.
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