Novel 1986 - Last Of The Breed (v5.0) by Louis L’Amour Read Free Book Online

yet he had watched and listened for all that time. It had amused him that the American should disappear so completely and that he alone knew how and why.
    The search had centered around towns, along the borders, along the Trans-Siberian, everywhere but where it should have been. Alekhin respected Zamatev even though he did not like him. The Russian was unbelievably thorough. He was also cruel and completely ruthless, something the Yakut understood and admired. Zamatev’s trouble was that he was Zamatev and a Russian.
    A Russian did not think like a Yakut. Moreover, he did not think like a Sioux. Zamatev did all the right things, but in this case they were wrong, for he did not understand the manner of man he was pursuing.
    When the Yakut was ordered to take up the search he knew every vestige of a track had been wiped out by tramping feet, racing automobiles, and the generally wasted efforts.
    To capture an escaped prisoner one has to think like an escaped prisoner. And if that prisoner is an Indian, one has to think like one.
    Alekhin was in no hurry. The American was not going to get out of Siberia before winter, and the winter would probably kill him. It was no use rushing off in all directions. First, one had to decide what the American had done.
    The initial search had been quick and thorough, yet the American had not been found. Hence, he was beyond the limits of their search before it began. The American had been an athlete, hence he could run, and so he had.
    The first search had failed, the further search had employed larger numbers of soldiers but with a total misunderstanding of the man whom they sought.
    Slowly, day after day and with meticulous care, Alekhin prowled the country around. He visited every prospector’s camp, talked with hunters and fishermen, with bargemen and surveyors, and he heard nothing of significance until the day he visited Vanyushin’s remote camp.
    Vanyushin made tea. He was a young geologist and mining engineer who had found an important prospect and was developing it himself. At least, to the point where he could turn it over to a competent developing engineer and miners. He enjoyed working in wild country, and once this prospect was launched he would be off to discover another.
    “Oh, I remember the day, all right! It was either that day or the day after when Paul went to town. Left me alone for two weeks and almost out of supplies.”
    He frowned. “We thought we had more than we did, but we came up short. At least, I did.”
    “You mean you missed some supplies?”
    “Oh, no! Not really.” He gestured toward the shelves with their neat rows of cans. “I thought we had more than we did. I thought the cans were stacked three deep, but they were not.”
    Alekhin stared out the window. He looked sleepy. “Paul went to town that day? And what did you do?”
    “Went to work, of course. I was drilling at the face of the tunnel. We have no power here, so it was hand work all the way.”
    Alekhin pushed his empty teacup toward Vanyushin. “Then nobody was at the cabin?”
    Vanyushin shrugged. “No reason why there should be. Often we were both working, but there was nobody around to steal anything.”
    “But you did miss some canned goods.”
    “Oh, that was just a miscount! Paul probably put them on the shelves. We had a dozen cans of fish. It was fish from Baikal, my favorite.” He shrugged. “Maybe he ate them himself.”
    “Some men will do that. I have known soldiers to hoard food.” Alekhin sipped his tea. It was warm out there in the sunshine, another of those amazingly clear days for which the area near Yakutia was noted. “Lose anything else?”
    “No, not really.” Vanyushin frowned. “Come to think of it, yes. I lost my knife. My favorite knife. But that was Paul! Always using things and not putting them back where they belong.”
    Vanyushin made an excellent tea, Alekhin reflected. An excellent tea. His eyes scanned the tree-clad slopes, then returned to the