After the horses had been given up and sent back, Lou, by Dan's arrangement, continued the journey on the sled of some men who were not properly of the stampeders, but were bound for Malamute. Dan himself, hardy as he was, had no difficulty in keeping up the pace with the best of the travelers on foot. He carried snow-shoes--for which he had no present need as the crust held--and a light pack on his back. The others of the stampeders regarded him as one of themselves, without ulterior purpose beyond the legitimate finding of gold somewhere in the creek-beds, or within the ledges of the mountains. Only Lou guessed aught of the evil project cherished by her husband. She had little compunction, for her sensibilities had become hardened with the passage of the years, and she had long ceased to regard herself as in any wise the keeper of Dan's conscience.
Dan himself, as always, had no scruples, though he meant to add yet another to the list of his crimes. He went warily to his work. He held Sam Ward under close observation, but so discreetly that the victim of his watchfulness had no hint of it. As the train straggled out toward nightfall, Dan contrived to be near his intended victim, though not in company with him. Because of the information gathered by Lou, that the miner meant to steal away from the others during the night, Dangerous Dan had determined to keep a vigil during the hours of darkness, so that, when the miner slipped away by stealth, thinking himself unobserved by any one, he would be able to follow as stealthily, and thus to trace the owner to the secret mine.
To one of Dangerous Dan McGrew's accomplishments the task was very simple. The night was clear, and he became aware at once when Sam Ward prepared to set forth. He allowed the miner to proceed for a considerable distance before following. Against the white surface of the snow, the moving form was distinguishable for a long way, and, since it alone in the expanse moved at all, it was not to be mistaken. But, while the miner was so distinctly visible to his pursuer, Dan McGrew had little fear of being himself observed, since no eyes were seeking his presence there. So, separated by a considerable distance, the two men advanced through the night, ascending at a smart pace from the level reaches of the valley to the lower slopes of the mountains. Here the spruce cast black shade, and often gorges lay deep in shadow. Dan was forced to lessen the distance between himself and the one he followed. Often, he was hard put to it to keep close enough on his quarry to be sure of the man's movements, without revealing his own presence on the trail. Some risks he took, since needs must. But the danger of discovery did not trouble Dangerous Dan, for he had never lacked courage, whatever his other vices.