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Show 81 brought from the cabin, Josh tied a pole on each side of the dog's harness. For once in his life Chinook stood perfectly still while Josh finished the lashings. As they worked they could hear the helicopter sweeping back and forth across the valley and beginning to circle back toward them. When they finished tying the bag between the two poles, the chopper was already approaching. Quickly Josh drew his dog back under the protection of the log once more. Only the ends of the newly-cut poles protruded from the hiding place. This time the helicopter came lower and more slowly. Holding his breath, Josh dared to peek up through the overhanging brush. The breeze tugged at his hair- Not fifty yards away in the door of the aircraft sat Bixby, his face black with anger, leaning out the door, intent on the terrain below. He held an automatic rifle ready to shoot. Josh froze as the man's gaze swept over the heavy cover, then passed on. "He's the mean one I told you about," Josh whispered, hardly daring to move his lips. They waited, hearts pounding, as the helicopter drifted past. "Now," Josh called as he crawled from beneath the log, "let's go." Chinook stood harnessed to the travois, the heavy gold sagging the poles. But at least most of the weight was on the ground. "Mush, Chinook!" Josh shouted. "Come on, boy, mush!" The dog heaved himself forward, felt the heavy weight, and stopped. This was no egg wagon. He whined and pawed at the ground. |