The Needle and the Haystack

The persistence of a constable coupled with the
expert assistance of a ballistics specialist, and a
combination of legal and police talent brought
Justice to a remote section of B.C.’s northland.

THE TIE maker sat quietly be-
side the trail, and as he munched a
sandwich he looked about him. A
practical man, the beauties of the
northern forest did not interest him
as much as the temperature and the,
prospects of an early spring. ‘‘Sure is
a mild day for February,’ he
thought, “but there’s still three feet
of snow. Kind of slows me up. Well,
better back to work.” Rising, the tall
figure ambled down the trail to-
wards a little clearing where small
logs lay scattered about ready to be
hewn into ties. This was a lonely
life up here in the Babine country.
Four years in a little shack on an
isolated road leading to the upper
country, with only one neighbor two
miles away, was not a choice exist-
ance, but at least it was a good liv-
ing. The man climbed onto a small
log and began lopping off branches
and adzing it into a flat tie. As he
bent over, axe in hand, he mused:
“Well, it’s about four o'clock or so.
Think I'll work till dusk and go

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TWENTIETH EDITION

back to the shack for supper then
turn in. Feel kinda tired today.”

A sharp report rang through the
woods. The leaning figure slowly
fell over. A thin wisp of smoke rose
from the fringe of the clearing, and
all was quiet again. The tall man
lay for a moment, then painfully
picked himself up. What had hap-
pened? His mind cleared slowly as
the realization come that he had been
shot. The throbbing in his upper

cheeks, the numbness of his tongue,
the blood pouring from the wound
under his chin dyeing the snow a
ruby red spoke all too plainly of how
close to death he had been. Why had
he been shot and where were his
attackers? Only the silence of the
forest answered the unspoken ques-
tions.

Not one to give up easily, the tie
maker knew there was no one close by
to aid him, and it would depend en-

Eee)
|
|

A sharp report rang through the woods. The leaning figure slowly fell over. A thin wisp
of smoke rose from the fringe of the clearing, and all was quiet again.

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*
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Page Fifty-five