After a minute of chasing Ray, the man realized he'd lost his chance with the Italian, so he headed back towards the cliff. He could track him any time he wanted. The only danger was the Mountie. He moved to the edge and peered over. "I think, my friend, you are about to have an accident." He pulled a knife from his side and was about to cut the taut rope. He hesitated. Instead, he turned to the tree and untied the rope, letting it slip till it disappeared over the edge.

He heard a scrambling of rocks and then a distinct thud. He was satisfied. It sounded similar to that of Margaret's body hitting the rocks. He bowed his head, running a well-manicured hand at his moist eyes. He had given her all the love and devotion she could ever want. How could she have wanted a divorce? The anger seeped back in. She had started it, and fate stepped in to solve the problem for them. He was going to miss her terribly, but she was beyond his help now. But he'd be damned if he was going to prison for her. All he had to do was clean up this mess and he could go home.

He would just have to track the Italian. He hefted Ray's pack, which he had found, and threw it over the edge. He didn't want to have to shoot him, because that wouldn't help him. He would have to make it look like an accident. The Italian was obviously a tenderfoot. It wouldn't be too hard to eliminate him. Who knew, perhaps the forest might do it for him.

Fraser heard Ray's shout and started back up, but when he heard the pistol shots and not a rifle, he realized Ray was in trouble. He climbed faster, until he heard the voice above him. He knew he wasn't going to make it. He looked down. The overhang he mentioned to Ray was about thirty feet below him. He slid down the rope, trying to reach it before the rope was cut. He was halfway when the rope jerked. He grabbed for a branch that jutted out beside him just as the rope fell away. He missed, scraping his hand as he fell down. He scrambled for anything and finally found another limb. His arm nearly jerked out of his socket as it bore his full weight. He struggled to grab it with other his hand, but dirt started running down his arm. The branch was being pulled loose.

There was nothing else to grab. So he fell. He hit the overhang badly, feeling agony blossom from somewhere within his body. There was a bright flash of white and then utter darkness. He struggled against it and a figure swam in front of him. He squinted and a woman's frightened face solidified and then faded again.

"My name is Constable Fraser. I'm with the RCMP. I'm here to help you." It was then that the darkness overwhelmed him.

Ray slid down an embankment, and then hid behind a tree and listened. He heard nothing but his own ragged breathing. Damn it, was the man following him or not? He held his breath in an attempt to hear better. There was silence. He let out his breath with a whoosh and stood. Maybe he had lost him.

Yeah, and maybe a wood owl would fly down and ask him if he wanted a biscuit.

But there was only complete silence. He waited for a few minutes but there was still nothing. Finally, the sounds of the forest started up again. Well, if the man hadn't followed him, then where was he? Ray questioned.

A deep, hollow pit grew in his stomach. Fraser. He scrambled back up the embankment and then it suddenly hit him. He had no idea where he was. Panic decided to fill that hollow pit.

"Okay," he whispered to himself. "Let's not panic. Remain calm. This is the secret to survival in the woods, according to Fraser, anyway. Panicking only makes you run in circles. Of course, I was in a panic as I was running, which means that I cut a path wide enough for a herd of elephants to walk abreast in and it's circular in nature. It can't be that hard to follow me back out the way I came."

Ray studied the ground. Everything looked like wet slop to him. Fraser made it all look so easy.

"Okay," he began again. "There's no reason why I can't figure this out. Let's see, what was Fraser always looking at. Mud. He was definitely looking at mud." Ray knelt to examine the mud. It looked normal to him. He ran a sweaty hand across his hair, trying desperately not to get hysterical. Then he noticed an area that was smooth and deep as if a heel had slipped in it. Ray smiled. "That was me. I definitely came this way." He dug in his heels and climbed further, confident that he might just figure it out.

Diefenbaker came back to the cliff and knew something was wrong. The stranger's smell was here, and it shouldn't be fresh. Suddenly, he saw a figure in a familiar red outfit and ran to him.

Fraser Sr. shook his head. "We've got trouble, boy. You need to help Benton's friend. I'll stay with my son."

Dief picked up Ray's scent and followed it. The stranger was following it too, and he was traveling fast. Dief flew through the branches.

Fraser Sr. faded away and reappeared next to his son's still form on the overhang. There was blood spreading like a web from a deep gash on his left thigh. Fraser Sr. tried to lay a hand on his son, but it melted right through him. "Son, wake up." When there was no response, he raised his voice. "Benton, wake up!"

Fraser's sense of consciousness returned in waves. First there was pain, wave after wave of pain, and then others things came slowly to him. Smells, texture, and finally voices. He opened his eyes and a blur of red was before him. He thought it was blood and he lifted a hand to wipe it away. It didn't fade. Instead it came into focus.

"Dad."

"You have to get up, son."

Fraser's mind was muddled. "Why?"

"Because you're lying over a 1000 foot drop, your friend is in trouble, and a man is about to get away with murder."

"Well, that's reason enough," Fraser replied thickly. He struggled to sit upright. A cry of pain escaped his tight thin lips as he moved. His back was a shooting agony and his leg felt like a hot poker had been thrust inside. He bowed his head and breathed roughly.

"Is it broken?" his father inquired.

"My back or my leg?"

"Well, I was referring to your leg, but if it's your back that's broken, then we have a bigger problem than I thought."

"Who are you talking to?" a quiet voice asked from the other side of the overhang.

Startled, both Frasers looked over. The woman was shoving some debris off the edge in an effort to make some more room on the narrow ledge.

"I was just taking account of possible injuries," Fraser answered. The woman had long brown hair and green eyes that glowed from her olive complexion. There were deep shadowed bruises on her body and multiple scrapes. There was also a large gash over her left eye, which she had bandaged with a strip of cloth. He would have expected her to have been distraught as to their situation. Instead she was calm and reserved. Remarkable.

She scooted over to his side and quietly examined the leg. "It's not broken." She glanced up. "But you mentioned your back?"

"It's an old injury. I was shot a few months ago. The doctors decided not to remove the bullet, reasoning that it would be safer to leave it where it was, but I think the bullet has moved. I think it's now sitting on a nerve." Fraser stiffened with another groan, breathing through clenched teeth. "What does the leg look like?"

"Not good, son." his father replied, real concern seeping into his eyes. He let it stray no further. "You're going to have to stitch it up."

"It needs to be stitched up," the woman chorused.

Fraser laughed through moist eyes at the hopelessness of the situation. "I have some stuff in my pack." He leaned over and with the woman's help eased it off his shoulders. "That is your husband up there, isn't it?"

A look of utter rage came over her features. "Yeah. Looks like he decided that a divorce was out of the question, so he came up with a simple solution. No fuss, no alimony." She shook her head. "My name is Margaret Williamson. I'm sorry you got caught up in this mess."

"Constable Fraser. It's part of the service," Fraser stated matter-of-factly.

"Well, you're in the same pickle as me now," she said looking up the cliff wall. "Not much can be done from down here, though."

"Nonsense," Fraser Sr. snorted. "Mounties always maintain the right. You're the only Mountie in the vicinity. So it's your duty. Get up, son. There's a murderer to catch."

"At least you got the motto right." Fraser tried again to move. It was sheer agony; his breath escaped in gasps.

"Your motto is 'You're in the same pickle as me?'" Margaret was confused. "And here I always thought it was "You always get your man."

"A popular . . . misconception," Fraser said eying his father.

"Whatever." Fraser Sr. said. At least his son was moving, Fraser Sr. reasoned. He noticed Benton's hat lying at Fraser's feet. "Your luck couldn't be better, son. You managed to save your hat."

"Believe me . . . I had nothing . . . to do with that. That was . . . the last thing . . . on my mind." Fraser was now sitting and leaning heavily against the side of the cliff. His eyes were closed and his face a mask of suffering.

"Of course, son. But it's all instinct. You just don't remember doing it, that's all."

Fraser nodded towards his pack. "I managed to bring a first-aid kit in my pack. It contains a sterile needle and thread."

"I've got it," Margaret said, drawing forth the items.

Every motion only brought Fraser excruciating agony. It hurt so bad he thought he was going to be ill. He breathed deeply, knowing that it was only going to get worse. He was thankful the woman was here because he doubted he would have been able to stitch it himself. Margaret was cleaning the wound with some antiseptic which burned like hellfire.

Fraser gritted his teeth and bore the pain. Finally it was done, and it felt like he had run a marathon. His back muscles were cramping and his whole body was trembling. He leaned back, trying to relieve the pain in his spine.

"Keep going, miss," Fraser Sr. urged. "Or his grandmother will have to show up and yell at me for not being any help."

"Is she still bothering you?" Fraser asked. He took a deep breath as the woman began the task of stitching the wound.

"Is who still bothering me?" Margaret asked, but she did not look up from the task at hand.

"No one." Fraser hissed. "Sorry . . . I was just . . . distracting myself."

Margaret grunted in response but said nothing.

Fraser's father took over instead. "She never leaves me alone. She's always hovering around, talking to me as if she's lost her marbles. Which she has, by the way. Completely gone. I don't know how it happened but suddenly she's just a babbling idiot, telling me how do to do things, always pointing out my faults. And I have many, according to her. She's driving me insane, son. One minute I'm relaxing quietly, minding your business, and then suddenly she's there criticizing me. You'd think she'd have something better to do finally. She can go anywhere. Why does she have to follow me around, for pete's sake?"

Margaret straightened, her work done. Fraser leaned back, his hands going limp at his sides. It was done, and all of Fraser's strength and resolved faded with the stitching's completion. Sweat beaded and ran down his face, washing away some of the blood that streaked his face. He fell into an exhausted sleep.

Fraser Sr. sat there with his son and waited, contemplating how best to help.

Ray paused for the hundredth time, looking for signs of his passing, mimicking every move Fraser had done on the trip up. The only thing he hadn't stooped to was tasting dirt. He didn't think that it would be of much help under these circumstances. He wasn't that desperate yet. In the meantime, he searched for broken branches, muddy footprints, bits of clothing, etc. Everything Fraser had shown him. It was slow going but he was certain he was on the right trail. It couldn't be much further.

Suddenly, he heard a noise behind him. He whirled and dove, narrowly avoiding the swipe of a rifle butt aimed at his head. He scrambled back as Williamson brought the rifle up to bear. Ray tackled him and they went down in a tangle of limbs. Ray landed on top and grabbed onto the rifle, using it to push the man down. Williamson pushed back and by steady degrees pushed Ray away. Finally, Williamson kicked and rolled and the two men tumbled down a small grade. Ray realized he was at the end of his endurance. The thin air had exacted its toll; his muscles were turning to mud. Williamson smelled victory, and then he caught a whiff of something else.

Something came crashing through the woods beside him. It was huge and brown and had large teeth. Williamson screamed, leaped off Ray and ran. Ray had the impression of a large mass flying over his body. His breath escaped his lungs as a tremendous weight stepped on his chest. Screams and breaking branches echoed for a time and then faded away. Ray closed his eyes and then opened them as a familiar wet tongue frantically brushed his face.

"Dief. You brought the calvary." Ray sat up and patted the wolf on the head. "So there was a stinkin' bear around here. Geez, now I'm beholden to the bloody thing." Ray settled down a bit as Dief stared at him in puzzlement. Ray ran a hand over his face. "Thanks, Dief," he said finally.

Suddenly, the crashing came back and was heading directly for them. Ray sprang to his feet. "Time to go, Dief." He ran, imagining the hot, fetid breath of the bear right behind him. He sprinted faster.

Diefenbaker looked back towards the sound and then after Ray. The detective was going the wrong way. The bear wasn't supposed to come back either; that was the deal. He sighed. Nothing ever went as planned. Dief bounded after Ray.

Ray could still hear the bear crashing through the woods after him. He hated bears. He especially didn't like circus bears. His father took him to the circus once because Ray had begged to see a real live bear. His father, wanting to make peace with his wife, agreed to spend some time with his son. But his father was furious when Ray became upset when a performing bear decided not to do his act and had started wandering their way. Ray thought the bear was gonna eat him so he cried. And a father yelled at his son.

As Ray pushed branches aside after so many stung his face and arms, he saw a figure standing just up the trail beside a tree. Ray's father waved his arms. "Son," he yelled as Ray approached. "What are you doing? It's just a bear!"

"Shut up," Ray shouted as he ran past.

Seconds later, Diefenbaker ran past the older Vecchio. "It's not a bear, you idiot, it's just a wolf," he observed loudly. Ray's father shook his head and faded away.

Ray was laboring up a dense path when he caught a glimpse of red up ahead. Red like in a Mountie uniform. He almost blurted out Fraser's name till he remembered that Fraser was not wearing his uniform.

"Hey," he shouted. "Hey you, Mountie! I need some assistance here!"

"This way," the RCMP officer waved and then he disappeared into the brush.

"Damn it, wait up!" Ray yelled. He veered in that direction. He glanced down to see Diefenbaker at his side. "Now they show up," he commented. Diefenbaker kept quiet.

Fifteen minutes later, Ray was shocked at his own endurance level. He was still chasing after the elusive Mountie. Of course, the alternative was to be lost again with a mad bear in the woods. Mountie or mad bear? The choice was not too complicated.

Then his feet dropped out from under him. Ray screamed as he slid down a steep embankment which ended further below at a cliff. He spread his limbs and slowed his descent, finally latching on to a sturdy tree and stopping abruptly. "That definitely needs a guard-rail," he whispered, because he didn't trust his voice.

"Ray," a voice spoke in surprise.

"Fraser?" Ray answered in disbelief.

"Below you and ten feet to your right."

Ray squirmed to the edge till he could see over, and there, about twenty feet down, was Fraser. "Benny, thank God," Ray exhaled with a bowed head. "What a time I've been having."

"Are you alright?" Fraser asked.

"Me? Sure, I always come out on top against a vicious killer and a hungry grizzly bear."

"There was no bear, Ray."

"Oh, no," Ray confided in a sarcastic tone. "There was a bear. A great big bear, and he ate the murderer."

"I think I need to get you back to Chicago," Fraser said tiredly.

"That's what I've been saying all along," Ray argued, but something wasn't right. Fraser didn't sound like himself. "Benny, you okay?"

"Well, actually, no, Ray, I'm not."

A half hour later, Ray and Fraser had absolutely no idea how to get themselves out of this mess. The only solution was for Ray to go for help, but Fraser had his doubts. They were far from the cabin and far from help. They had to hope that Williamson had left the radio alone, but Ray had to get there first to confirm that fact.

"I can do this, Benny," Ray said. "I found my way back here, didn't I?" Actually, Ray was terrified. He knew he wasn't that good at back-tracking, but he also knew there was no choice. Benny and the woman were counting on him. He had to do it. "I'll bring back help. Besides, there's some Mountie around here. I saw him a while ago, but he's gone now. I'll find him, though. You can't hide red serge out here for long. You'd think you guys would have chosen a less obtrusive color." Ray looked up for the hundredth time, hoping to see the RCMP officer, but only Diefenbaker was there. He tried to convince Dief to go find him, but Dief didn't seem to want to leave Fraser.

Fraser gave in reluctantly. There was no other way. The cliff wall was too steep and with little or no hand-holds, and secondly, they had no rope or climbing gear. The only consolation was that Diefenbaker would be with him. "It'll be dark soon, Ray, perhaps you should wait."

"If I wait too long, you could die. Look, I'll leave now. That should give me a head start, and I'll get going again as soon as it's light enough to see."

"If the radio's broken, you'll have to go to Tuktoyaktuk. It's the nearest Inuit village and the nearest help."

"Alright."

"It's due east from the cabin about forty miles."

Ray looked pensive. "Does the sun set in the east or the west?" he asked.

"Oh, dear," Fraser sighed.

"I'm kidding. I'm kidding," Ray jested in an attempt to lighten the situation. "I'll be back soon. Is there anything else I can get for you beforehand? More water, berries, furry nightcrawlers?" He had found as much as he could and had thrown them over in his bundled jacket. Ray knew of Fraser's fondness for the nightcrawlers.

Fraser shook his head and Ray took a deep steadying breath. There was nothing else left to do, so he stood to leave. "I'll be back." he said earnestly.

Fraser nodded and watched him climb back up the steep embankment.

"Will he make it?" Margaret asked.

Fraser smiled. "Of course he will. There's nothing to worry about. We'll be off this cliff in a short time. He's quite adept out here."

She studied him carefully and finally raised her eyebrows. "He's that good, huh?" She wasn't buying this for one second.

"I was referring to my wolf," he said with a smile.

Her tension eased as she smiled warmly back. "Well, let's try to make ourselves comfortable while we wait." She held out Ray's bundle. "Furry nightcrawler?"

Two hours later, it was growing dark and Ray had no idea where he was, but he realized he needed shelter. "Okay, Dief, where should I go? Do you know this area?"

Diefenbaker looked up at him and whined.

"No problem. I'll find us a place." Ray wished he was as confident as he sounded. Suddenly, he saw again a flash of red through the green foliage. "There he is again," he shouted. "Hey, Mountie, we need some help over here!" But the figure disappeared. "Get him, Dief, he's our ticket out." They both ran after the officer. "He's gonna help us even if I have to drag him back here by the little noose around his neck."

Ray pushed the bushes aside and scrambled after the red serge. "You better run, woodpecker," he voiced breathlessly, "because if I get my hands on you, I'm gonna show you some American manners. What kind of Canadian are you? I'm asking for help here. It's in your moral code to respond." He saw the figure off to his left. It was the closest he'd been all day. Ray leaped through the bushes and came face to face with not the Mountie but a cave and shelter.

Luck was with Ray. He had a fire started in record time (his best yet) and was settled in before the rain began. It was a light wetting, but it was one they didn't need right now. He thought about Benny and the woman and hoped the overhang provided some sort of shelter. Ray brought in as much dry wood as he could find and it looked enough to last through the night. It was too dark out for Ray to do much more. The two of them lay near the fire and fell asleep, praying tomorrow would be a better day.

Fraser Sr. reappeared beside the still figures. Only Diefenbaker raised his head in acknowledgement. "They'll get through this, Diefenbaker," the Mountie said, easing the wolf's mind. "I promise you that, even if I have to drag Benton up myself." He looked over at the wolf. "Of course, the more logical course of action is to train this tenderfoot." He gestured at Ray's sleeping form.