Back at the cabin, Hawk looked around the front room, where the fireplace was located. There was nothing really to see, he decided, but he went into the back room just in case there might be a canvas money bag or something to make his investigation worthwhile. He looked around him. There was nothing but four bedrolls and scattered items of clothing. He had started to turn around and go back to the front room when something odd caught his eye. Sitting on the floor next to one of the bedrolls was something that looked like teeth. Not sure he wasn’t seeing things, he drew his long hunting knife and poked at the teeth with the point of it. Hearing a noise behind him in the front room, he turned to find Tater standing in the doorway, dumbfounded. Startled as well, Hawk had no time to think when Tater suddenly realized who he was and went for his .44. In a split-second reaction, Hawk threw the hunting knife underhanded to bury the blade halfway under Tater’s rib cage. His gun not clear of his holster, he released it and clutched the knife lodged in his belly. Like a great cat, Hawk was upon him and both men crashed to the floor. Hawk would have preferred to finish the desperate man with a quick shot from his .44, but they were too close to the trading post. The shot would be heard. So, as he had mercifully put many a deer out of their suffering, he withdrew the knife and drew it across the struggling man’s throat.