When no one answered the door Joe let himself into John Allen's shack. There were no signs of life inside except the ticking of large wind-up alarm clock on a wooden apple crate at the head of an unmade metal frame cot. Joe looked around the room. He saw nothing that indicated that this was Mr. Allen's place. On a small side-wall shelf, sat a wood carving of a grizzly bear. It was standing on its hind legs with extended forearms and claws in a defensive stance. On another crate sat a blue enamel wash basin, a yellow brick of hand soap and a clean white towel with black embroidered initials that read: G.T.P.
Joe finally spotted exactly what he had been looking for. On the floor beside a small cast iron potbelly stove, on top of a stack of old newspapers, sat the boots that John Allan had been wearing the previous day. Joe knelt beside them for a closer look. He ran his hand over the fancy leather work. They were damp. Joe knew these were Jack Stumner's boots How they came into the possession of John Allen remained a mystery. Joe quickly tied the laces together and draped the old mud-kickers over his left shoulder. Now it was time to get back to Bjorn.
Joe turned to leave and happened to notice an old calendar nailed to the back of the door. The month displayed was December 1912. He decided to leave a message for Mr. Allen on the door-boards directly below the calendar. With his skinning knife he carved two words in large bold letters: MOONBEAM CREEK. Before leaving, Joe also scratched an "X" on the calendar over Dec. 22, which was the day he had calculated that his two business partners had been murdered beside their whiskey still.
Bjorn, who was still holding the horse, continued to watch the building. He was beginning to fear the worst when, after five minutes, Joe reappeared from the freight clerk's cabin. When Joe stepped out into the sunlight, he was folding up his knife, which he dropped back into the side pocket of his coat. He also carried a pair of work boots. "No one home this morning?" asked Bjorn.
"That's right," said Joe. "Nobody home. And that's fine by me."
"What's with the boots," asked Bjorn, as Joe draped the shoe laces over his saddle horn so that the leather boots hung down on one side of the horse's neck.
"Let's just say," replied Joe, as he mounted his horse, "I made a fair trade with a man who doesn't deserve spit!" He took the reins for the pack horse from Bjorn, and added, "Let's go find my Winchester."
The two friends rode off towards Mile 49.
In the next episode - A VIEW FROM THE CAVE - Joe and Bjorn travel to Henningville (Mile 49) and over the Fraser River to a small lake. They retrieve Joe's rifle and enjoy the view of where the "Leather Pass" meets the Robson Valley.
