In the last episode, Christmas is approaching and soon it would be time for Caribou Joe's next whiskey run.
Far from Mile 52, on the Grand Trunk Pacific, and due south of the Tte Jaune Cache area, the Canadian Northern Railway roadbed ran in a southerly direction.
Near the tent-town community of Thompson Crossing Moonbeam Creek tumbled down the mountain slope into the North Thompson River.
Moonbeam Creek was home to mountain toads and mountain men; toads that had long ago hibernated and men who were reading withered copies of the Fort George Herald newspaper.
Jack Stumner and Bert Conway were taking a break from their continuous labour of distilling and watching. Brewing whiskey beneath a rough-sawn timber and board shelter had become long and tedious work.
The men rested beside their wood-burning heater, from time to time and were ever-watchful of any unwanted intruders at the still site.
Jack sat in a rustic wooden chair with his bare feet resting on the table in front of him. He was airing out his fancy leather work-boots by the stove and reading from the May 4, 1912, issue of the Herald as his partner sampled a clear liquid from a glass jar. "Shaven's... it's a damn shame," complained Jack.
"What the hell's wrong now," enquired Bert.
"It's them damn whirlpools! You know, the ones on the Fraser, downstream from Tte Jaune Cache."
"Jeez, Jack. That paper's five months old. That's old news. So, did anyone drown?"
"A young German lad. Listen to this..." Jack cleared his throat and continued, "Knowing nothing of the danger that awaited them they paddled heedlessly downstream into the treacherous canyon whirlpool. Their frail craft was caught in the swirl and immediately capsized. The three men were thrown into the water, but the two survivors..."
Jack paused. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. The fragrance of cheap jockey cologne was caught in his nostrils. The unfamiliar smell turned his eyes open wide. All his senses were alert, as always, but this time the response came too late.
Bert looked over to the newspaper that Jack was still holding in front of his face. He scanned the large bold print on the front page.
"Titanic lies two miles below surface," reading silently to himself.
He too sensed that something was wrong. Suddenly, the thunderous report of a firearm at close range, was followed by the sound of splattering crimson gore as his partner's brains were caught in the newspaper headlines.
The paper was ripped in half as Jack's upper body catapulted forward across the table.
Bert fell to his knees and threw his glass to one side. He scrambled with both his hands to reach for a rifle hanging from an upright post.
Bert too took a shot in the back. He slammed into the post and dropped in a heap onto the rough floorboards. The echo of the shots became muffled by the dense forest.
In the next episode, A Chance Encounter, Joe meets up with Constable Bigumpound once again. And, it won't be the last time.
