“You talk like a fool.”
“We’ll see,” growled Frazer. “I’ve a right to fight for my own. No man can keep from me by force what rightfully belongs to me.”
“Are you referring now to the gold?”
“Yes.”
“You really have the nerve to stand there and make an assertion like that?” snapped the corporal “It was stolen and you know it.”
“You can’t prove it.”
“Oh yes, I can. Not very difficult either. The proof is less than a hundred yards away.”
Donald Frazer went deathly pale.
“What’s that—hundred yards—you, you—do you know what you’re talking about?”
“Yes,” grimly smiled the policeman. “I do. If you don’t believe me, we’ll go there together and dig it up.”
Frazer staggered back as if from a blow. Every vestige of color drained from his cheeks. In terror his hands went up clutching his throat.
“You—you know!” The sound that issued from his lips was a low breath of agony.
“Yes, I know. A horrible crime! You, Brennan, McCallum and the two Indians will have to answer for it, Frazer. Bit by bit, these boys here have unearthed the evidence that will hang you as assuredly as I’m standing here. Miller’s murder will not go unavenged.”
Frazer crumpled like a leaf and would have fallen had not Sandy caught him. Dick whirled upon the mounted policeman at the mention of the missing prospector’s name, for a full minute not able to speak. He, too, was trembling violently over the very unexpectedness of the revelation.
“Miller!” he cried, when he had found his voice. “The man from Caribou Lake! How do you know that?”
“By putting two and two together, Dick,” Corporal Rand answered unhesitatingly. “To you boys belong most of the credit. The evidence I had was inconsequential until it was added to what you had unearthed yourselves.”
“I don’t think I quite understand,” puzzled Dick.
“Very well then, let’s review the case. Let’s start with Miller, the prospector. At Caribou Lake last fall, Miller made a very rich strike. Before the freeze-up, he had taken out over thirty thousand dollars worth of gold. He remained at his claim all winter, rigging up windlasses, trapping in his spare time, preparing for the active resumption of work in the spring. Late in March, he suddenly decided that he needed more equipment and tools. When Jim Langley visited Miller at Caribou Lake on March twenty-third, the latter explained to his friend that he was setting out for Fort Laird on the twenty-fifth, just two days later. Miller showed Langley two pokes filled with gold—the gold he had mined the previous fall—and told Langley that he was taking it with him.
“From that point, we almost lose trace of Miller. Setting out by dog team from Caribou Lake, he failed to arrive at his destination. The last seen of him was on April third, between Thunder River and Lynx Lake, by an Indian named Henri Karek. The prospector was in good health and had plenty of grub, the Indian claimed.
“I do not know whether you remember or not, but between April third and April tenth we had one of the warmest chinooks we have ever experienced so early in the year. The trails were running water and most of the snow in the open melted. From Lynx Lake to Fort Laird, a distance of eighty-five miles, there is a lot of open country and two small rivers, which flood badly during the wet season. Now on the other hand, between Lynx Lake and Half Way House, a distance of a hundred and twenty miles, there are no rivers at all and the trail threads its way through heavy forests that protect the snow.”
Corporal Rand paused. “Do you follow me?” he asked.
Dick and Sandy nodded eagerly.
“Yes, yes, Corporal. Please go on.”
“That chinook will explain why Miller didn’t continue on his way to Fort Laird. Swollen rivers to cross, poor trail. Remember he had a sledge and dog team.”
“So he changed his mind and came on to Half Way House,” Sandy interrupted.
“Naturally he would,” the policeman replied. “Put yourself in his place. Wouldn’t you have done the same?”
“Yes.”
“And don’t forget he had two large pokes of gold. Deducing that he came on to Half Way House, what happened? Well, for one thing, he was robbed. It is something more than mere coincidence that Frazer has, or I should say, had two pokes of gold in his possession. The gold was hidden in a secret place. Isn’t that true?” Corporal Rand addressed Dick.
“Yes, it’s quite true.”
“Now we’ve come to your discovery of the pit in the cellar. What was in this pit? More gold? No. Furs? Possibly, but not very likely. One need not keep fur so carefully hid. Mr. Frazer, with perfect impunity and no fear of detection, could have kept stolen fur in the company’s warehouse. So, by elimination and deduction, we arrive gradually at a startling conclusion, namely that the contents of that pit—something that was kept in two burlap sacks—was even of more importance to Mr. Frazer than the gold.”
“How did you make that out?” Sandy again interrupted.
“I’ll prove it to you. When Mr. MacClaren discharged Frazer and drove him away from the post at the point of a gun, there were two things that the latter was unable to take away with him: the gold hid in the office and the sacks concealed in the pit. If the gold had been of more value to Frazer than the contents of the pit, he’d have tried to get the gold first, wouldn’t he?”
“Yes, he would,” agreed Sandy.
“But instead of trying to get the gold first, he sent the Mekewai brothers to procure the two sacks. Why?”
“Yes, yes, why?” blurted Sandy.
“Because he was terribly afraid that in his absence someone would stumble upon what he had hidden in the cellar.”
“I can’t make it out,” Sandy scratched his head. “Can you, Dick?”
“Yes,” Dick whispered through white lips. “I understand now. God help the man that did it. Don’t ask, Sandy—don’t ask. It’s too unutterably horrible. For your own peace of mind, it is better that you should never know.”
CHAPTER XXVI.
FRAZER’S CONFESSION.
Donald Frazer’s confession, made on the day following his capture, corroborated the statements which had been made by Corporal Rand. The actual murder, according to Frazer, had been committed by Pierre and Henri Mekewai in the trading room at Half Way House on the night of April 18th, just ten days after the prospector had been seen at Lynx Lake by the Indian, Henri Karek, and within two hours after his, Miller’s, arrival at the post.
“He drove in at ten o’clock or very shortly after,” Frazer told them. “Since morning it had snowed heavily and the wind had risen almost to a gale. There were five of us in the trading room at the time, Wolf Brennan, Toby McCallum, the two Mekewai brothers and myself. We had all been drinking for several hours. The first intimation we had of Miller’s arrival was when we heard the sound of a sledge outside, then a voice calling through the door. Brennan and McCallum went out and assisted Miller to unharness and feed his team and later helped him carry in his grub-box, blankets and the two pokes containing gold. Miller was chilled to the bone and had not eaten for twelve hours. He asked me if I could get supper for him. He especially wanted a hot cup of tea. He was very tired, he said, and wished to get to bed as quickly as possible.
“I went to the door of the loft to summon my native boy, Meschel, who, like Mr. Scott, had already retired, when Wolf Brennan called me to one side, suggesting in an undertone that he would do the work himself. Immediately afterward Wolf started for the kitchen, winking at me covertly as he went past. On some pretext or other, I followed him a few minutes later, and there in the kitchen, while Wolf brewed the tea and prepared the lunch, he told me about the two pokes.
“‘They’re worth thousands’, he informed me. ‘Gold enough there to buy our way into Kingdom Come’.”
“At first I was appalled at the thought.
“‘You mean to murder him’?” I asked.
“Wolf told me that that was exactly what he meant. For a few hundred dollars and a bottle of rum, he said, the Mekewai boys would be willing to slip up behind Miller while he ate and knife him in the back.
“I told him flatly that I wouldn’t be party to such a crime. I was horrified. The mere thought of it sent cold shivers running down my back. But after we had two or three more drinks from a bottle, I looked at it differently. For days I had been desperate, wondering where I could get enough money to repay what I had borrowed from company funds—in all about two thousand dollars.”
“Why had you borrowed that amount?” interrupted Corporal Rand:
“Money I had lost at cards. I had to cover my shortage before the books were audited or else suffer disgrace and probably imprisonment. I lived in constant fear of Mr. MacClaren’s coming. Here was a chance to get myself out of a very bad hole. I took it.”
Frazer lowered his eyes and a deep silence crept over the little room.
“Within thirty minutes of the time I came to a decision,” he resumed, “the crime had been committed. Miller’s death was almost instantaneous. At my suggestion, we dug the pit under the floor in the cellar. The Mekewai boys concealed the body there, were paid their blood-money and bottle of rum and went home singing.”
“Singing!” gasped Dick.
“Yes, they went home singing,” repeated the former factor. “Just as soon as they had gone, Brennan, McCallum and I held a short conference and it was decided that I should keep the gold in my possession until it could be sold to advantage. The money received for it would be divided equally among the three of us. Before entering the service of the Hudson’s Bay Company I was a cabinetmaker by trade and that night I told them that I could easily construct a wall-cabinet in my office, where we could hide the gold.
“The next morning the Mekewai brothers came over before daybreak—as it had been previously planned—to get the dead man’s effects. The dogs were sold to an Indian, who resides at Fort Chipewayan, and all the others things were weighted with rocks and sunk through a hole in the ice in Half Way River.
“Miller’s body was the only thing we had to worry about. As the days passed, I began to see that I would never know one moment’s peace as long as the corpse remained in the cellar. My waking hours were filled with grim spectres of fear and horror, with a constant dread of discovery. The thing preyed upon my mind so much that finally I summoned Wolf and Toby and explained to them that we must find a safer burial place. The body, I told them, had to be moved. I simply couldn’t stand the worry and suspense any longer. I was rapidly becoming a physical and mental wreck. I jumped at my own shadow.
“Brennan and McCallum endeavored to laugh away my fears, but I was obdurate. Wolf pointed out that moving the body again presented unusual difficulties. Even at night there was a chance that someone might see us. The days were getting longer, he said. Neither he nor his partner, he made it quite plain, wished to have anything to do with such a perilous and unnecessary undertaking.
“Thus the matter rested for several days, and then I had an inspiration. As soon as I could send Mr. Scott away, I hired the Mekewai brothers to come over late at night and dismember the body. They put it in sacks and agreed to come back on the following night and take the sacks away and bury them.”
Frazer paused, wiping his perspiring face.
“We could not carry out this plan because on the very next morning these three boys appeared. I can not begin to tell you, Corporal Rand, how their coming startled me. I was afraid that the mounted police had in some mysterious way got wind of the murder and had sent them here to spy upon me. I recalled that during the previous summer the boys had assisted you in solving the Dewberry case. By the end of the week, frantic, desperate, I began to plan how I could get them to leave the post without arousing their suspicions.”
Again Frazer paused and again, he daubed at his flushed sweat-streaked face.
“I need not tell you how I eventually succeeded. You all know what subsequently occurred. But I was afraid even when the boys departed for the island of the dinosaur that they could see into my little game and would return as soon as they were out of sight of the post. In order to make sure on this point, I sent Brennan and McCallum to watch them closely and prevent them from coming back again.
“Strange as it may seem, I had no opportunity during the next few weeks to remove Miller’s body from the cellar. People dropped in at the post unexpectedly. Mr. Stearns, an old friend of mine, came up from Fort Vermilion and remained with me for several days. No sooner had he left than a party of prospectors arrived on the scene and camped in the trees just outside the trading room for a full week. Then you put in an appearance, Corporal, and within two hours of your departure Mr. MacClaren walked in upon me.”
Startled by these disclosures, Sandy leaned over and whispered in Dick’s ear:
“Divine interference! And some people doubt the existence of God!”
“Please continue with your confession,” the policeman instructed Frazer.
“I have nothing more to tell.”
Corporal Rand turned his head thoughtfully and looked out of the window. Another deep silence pervaded the room.
“Does old Bill Willison know anything about the murder of Miller?” he asked finally.
Frazer shook his head. “No, not a thing. He’s as innocent as a babe. He doesn’t enter into this case at all except in a small way. He lives in a cabin now along the lower stretches of Half Way River. When Wolf and Toby lost their canoe, they walked back in the woods to Willison’s place and hired him to take them up river in pursuit of these boys. On the way, they conceived the plan of dressing Willison like a wild man and frightening the boys so badly that they would leave the course of the river and strike off toward Fort Good Faith.”
“It didn’t work, did it?” glared Sandy.
“No comments, please!” came the corporal’s sharp reprimand.
“You set fire to the warehouse.” The policeman turned again to Frazer.
“Yes, it was a ruse to get Scott and these boys out of the post.”
“Did you instruct Pierre Mekewai to shoot at Dick that night Dick stood near the window of the loft?”
“No, Corporal, I did not. Those instructions were issued by Wolf Brennan who bore this young man a grudge.”
“Who threw the knife that wounded young John Toma?”
“Henri Mekewai.”
“By your orders?”
“No, sir. I knew nothing about it until afterwards.”
Corporal Rand gathered up the sheets of foolscap on the desk in front of him.
“I have your confession here, Mr. Frazer, word for word, just as you have told it to us. Are there any other statements you wish to make apropos of this case?”
Frazer raised his head and for the first time that afternoon he looked straight into the eyes of his questioner.
“With your permission, Corporal,” he stated in a hollow, choking voice, “I’d like to say that heinous as my crime is and black as my character may seem to you, I am ready and willing to pay the penalty. I want you all to know that I hold no brief for myself, expect no sympathy or mercy. On the other hand, I’d like to have you understand, to believe somehow, that here at the last I am a changed man, an altogether different person than he who was one of the slayers of Conroy Miller. Before God, now that it is too late, I am deeply and sincerely sorry. Crime is a terrible thing, Corporal, and if I had my life to live again I swear to you——”
In the middle of a sentence, Frazer stopped short, sank back in his chair and covered his face with his hands. In the deep silence that followed Dick looked searchingly at Sandy and together they rose and tip-toed out of the room. They did not pause until they had reached the path, leading to the river.
“How sweet and cool the air is outside,” remarked Sandy.
CHAPTER XXVII.
TOMA’S SCAR.
Corporal Rand met the three boys just outside the trading room. He, too, breathed deeply of the cool, sweet air, his eyes shining with relief.
“Well,” he announced smiling, “the worst is over. Five prisoners in safe custody and everyone of them has confessed. The Mekewai brothers were more reticent than the other three, but I have enough evidence to hang them all. Another case has gone down in the police records.”
“Perhaps if we had known,” grinned Sandy, “we might not have come at all. What about it, Toma?”
The young Indian moved over and sat down on the bench, his thoughtful, dark eyes turned toward the fringe of poplar and balsam that ran in a zig-zag line around the natural clearing that harbored the white, log building of the great fur company. For a moment he did not speak.
“I think I come anyway,” he answered finally. “I like alla time plenty move around. Plenty excitement, too, once in a while.”
“Well you got the excitement,” grunted Sandy. “Enough to do for a long time. You can be thankful that this job is finished.”
“Mebbe not so thankful like you think,” Toma retorted evasively.
Corporal Rand looked up in surprise.
“You must like fighting better than I do,” he smiled. “In my line of duty I’m forced into it sometimes, but just between you and me, I’d prefer staying out. Now tell us, Toma, why you’re not glad that our troubles are all over.”
“I am glad,” the young Indian objected. “Pretty hard for me I try to make you understand. Mebbe you no feel like I feel. What you say if bad fellow come up, sneaking like coyote, an’ make ’em scar on your head that stay there till you die? How you like it stay all night in woods alla same dead man? Make me more mad than ever I feel before. I like do to that Mekewai fellow just what he do to me. No chance now. No chance I ever fight that man again. Tomorrow, next day mebbe, all these bad fellows you take away to Mackenzie Barracks an’ I no see ’em any more.”
It was a long speech for Toma. Dick and Sandy looked at him in astonishment while Corporal Rand moved over, sat down beside him and in a friendly way, threw one arm over his heaving shoulders.
“I understand what you mean,” he said kindly. “But you mustn’t forget that this Henri Mekewai will be punished for all his misdeeds. He has many crimes to answer for. You mustn’t feel that way about it. You helped to capture him, Toma, and that is surely revenge enough.”
“But he no carry scar on his head,” the young Indian pointed out.
“True enough. But he carries other scars that one can’t see. His heart and soul are scarred with wickedness and, no doubt, he will be compelled to pay the life penalty.”
Knowing something of the Indian’s point of view, in his own mind, Dick did not blame Toma for the stand he took. An eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth. It had been bred in Toma, was the product of generations of savage, relentless ancestors—part of the Indian’s code.
“I didn’t know you were so blood-thirsty, Toma,” Sandy poked fun at him. “You mustn’t think of such things.”
Toma averted his eyes, flushing under the criticism.
“I think alla time about that scar,” he said.
The policeman drummed thoughtfully on the bench for a moment, then again he addressed the young man beside him.
“Yes, Toma, you must forget. If you’ll promise me to overlook this slight, I’ll give you and Sandy a chance to earn a little extra police pay during the next two weeks. Tomorrow I will be compelled to take my five prisoners back to the Mackenzie River Barracks. You and Sandy can render me valuable aid by accompanying my party. I hate to take any chance of losing them now. One can’t be too careful. They are dangerous criminals, desperate men all, and would take the first chance offered them for a break for liberty.”
The young Indian’s eyes brightened.
“Thank you, Corporal, I like that very much.”
“Two weeks at full police pay. I’m giving you and Sandy this chance because on the last occasion it was Dick who helped me.”
“That’s splendid of you, Corporal,” Sandy’s face was beaming. “I’d like to hear what Inspector Cameron says when we bring them in. Aren’t you jealous, Dick?”
Dick laughed. “No, Sandy, the arrangements suits me perfectly. The experiences of the past few days have been so vigorous that I am ready to take a short vacation. I shall wait here till you return.”
The mounted policeman rose preparatory to entering the trading post.
“Very well, then, that is the understanding. You, Toma, and Sandy are to accompany me. We’ll leave here at six o’clock, journeying up the river in two canoes as far as Painter’s Ferry, where we will disembark and proceed eastward overland to the Mackenzie River Trail. When we reach Moose Lake, I think I can arrange for horses to take us the remainder of the way. I left my own mount at Painter’s Ferry.”
“How long do you think it will take us to make the trip?” Sandy asked eagerly.
“About seven days. I’ve made it in five on a hurried patrol, but with the prisoners, of course, we’ll not be able to travel quite so fast.”
“I can expect Sandy and Toma back here then in about twelve or fourteen days?” Dick asked anxiously.
“Yes, it will take about that long. I suppose, Dick, that you will put in your time fishing.”
When Dick shook his head, Sandy broke out into a roar of merriment.
“Dick’s had all the fishing he wants in one summer,” he explained to the corporal. “When we were down river, just after leaving the island of the dinosaur, we lost all our grub and had to fish or go hungry.”
Corporal Rand smiled. “I had almost forgotten. Well, anyway, I’m not worrying about Dick being utterly bored anywhere. He’ll find plenty to keep him busy.”
Bright and early on the following morning, Corporal Rand led out the five prisoners in preparation for their departure. All arrangements had been completed. At the river, drawn up alongside the landing wharf, were two large canoes, packed with grub for the journey to Painter’s Ferry. It had been arranged that four men would go in each canoe, Donald Frazer, Wolf Brennan, Pierre Mekewai and Corporal Rand in one, Henri Mekewai, Toby McCallum, Sandy and Toma in the other. The prisoners were to furnish the motive power for the two crafts. Not only would this keep them out of mischief, but it would give their guards a better opportunity to watch for any attempt at treachery. As a further precaution, no rifles were to be taken. Sandy and Toma carried revolvers in holsters strapped under their left armpits with coats worn over them.
An inquisitive, jabbering crowd followed them to the boat landing. Upon their arrival there, Corporal Rand ordered the prisoners to their respective canoes, and while this command was being carried out, a most unusual thing happened. Instead of stepping into the canoe, Henri Mekewai, the last one to move forward to take his place, suddenly lurched forward and leaped straight into the river.
The action was totally unexpected. By the time Dick and the Corporal had sprung to the end of the wharf, the Indian was thirty feet away, his long arms cutting the water with quick powerful strokes. A sudden splash, and he had negotiated the swift inshore current, where he half-raised from the water, took a deep breath and dove out of sight. While Dick stood dazed by the quickness of it all, he heard a quick pattering of feet behind him and turned his head just in time to see Toma executing a graceful, running leap that carried him flying through the air and into the river a full twenty feet from the wharf.
His next vivid impression was of Corporal Rand. Revolver in hand, the policeman stepped into the nearest canoe, calling out as he did so:
“Sandy, Dick—watch the other boat while I go out and fetch Mekewai!” Then to the three prisoners: “Your paddles, men, and hurry! I’ll shoot the first one who doesn’t do his duty. Now—!”
The craft shot forward. One eye on the prisoner, Dick watched the progress, excitement tugging at his heart. He was sure now that Henri Mekewai had made his escape. On various occasions, he had witnessed remarkable feats of endurance and prowess of Indian swimmers. He feared that Toma had no chance to overtake his enemy. Out there in the current, he could see two bobbing heads about forty feet apart. Two bobbing heads sweeping quickly down the stream.
“Look, Dick!” Sandy shouted. “Toma is gaining! He’ll catch him yet before the canoe gets there. Look, look, Dick!”
A cold shiver suddenly struck its icy fingers through Dick’s chest. For a moment he doubted the evidence of his senses. For the first time, he noticed something that previously had escaped his attention. As Toma raised one arm in a desperate forward stroke, in the bright sun he caught the glint of steel.
He could see more easily now. Toma was swimming with a knife grasped firmly in his right hand. Like a flash, there came to Dick a horrible realization. The young Indian was planning his revenge! An eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth. The memory of that insidious attack in the woods near the Mission Trail apparently burned in his mind with undimmed fury. An insult and injury never to be forgotten!
Sick at heart, the two silent watchers on the wharf, half turned and gazed solemnly into each other’s tense, set faces.
“Once an Indian, always an Indian,” blurted Sandy. “I’m afraid Toma is going to break his promise to Corporal Rand.”
CHAPTER XXVIII.
LEAVE-TAKING.
Toma overtook Henri Mekewai in mid-stream and, with arm upraised brandishing the knife, checked the other’s flight until Corporal Rand and the canoe arrived. Not until the two swimmers were pulled aboard did Dick’s tension relax. He was glad that it was all over, relieved beyond measure that Toma had not committed his rash act. He stepped back from the edge of the wharf, breathing a sigh of relief. He knew now that not in vain had the young Indian given his promise to Corporal Rand.
“I was afraid for a minute,” he heard Sandy’s voice. “Terribly afraid, Dick. I thought that in the excitement of the moment, Toma might forget himself. I can see now that he didn’t pull out that knife to attack Henri Mekewai. Merely wanted to defend himself. And I don’t blame him either. I’d hate to be in a similar position without some means of protection.”
“So would I,” Dick agreed. “He showed good judgment, that is all, and quick thinking in a time of emergency. Just the same, for a moment it looked as if he really intended to use that knife.”
Sandy laughed relievedly. “Neither one of us would have thought a thing about it if we hadn’t remembered what Toma had said about carrying that scar. But we should have known him better than to believe that he really would break his promise to Corporal Rand.”
The canoe was returning now. It sped back toward the landing and, a short time later breasting the current, shot inshore, coming to a full stop next to the other craft. Rand’s voice rang out sharply:
“Toma, we’ll wait here while you run up to the post to get a change of clothes. While you’re up there, you’d better procure another revolver from Mr. Scott and a box of ammunition. It’s poor policy to take a chance with wet cartridges.”
Toma grinned as he stepped ashore. “All right, Corporal, I go hurry.”
In a moment more he had sped away through the crowd, the object of admiration and respect on the part of the half score of Indians and half-breeds that thronged the landing wharf.
“Pretty close call,” Rand looked over at Dick. “Took me wholly unawares. Keep my eyes open next time.”
“Weren’t you afraid for a time?” Dick asked.
“Afraid of what?”
“That Toma would use that knife,” Dick answered.
“No, not in the least. He’d given me his promise. I was sure he wouldn’t attack Mekewai unless it was to prevent him from escaping. As a matter of fact, he held the prisoner for nearly twenty seconds there in mid-stream until we arrived. If it hadn’t been for him, I fully believe that Mekewai would have contrived to reach the opposite shore. A splendid swimmer.”
“But not as good as Toma,” Sandy pointed out.
“That was proved beyond a shadow of a doubt. All right, Sandy, slip into the other canoe and we’ll be on our way as soon as Toma returns. Pierre, you get in beside Sandy.”
For a moment the policeman grew grim. “For the benefit of the rest of you prisoners,” he glared around him, “I’d like to say that if another person attempts to escape, I’ll show no mercy. I’ll shoot the next man who tries it.”
Wolf Brennan raised his shaggy head and looked straight over at the stern guardian of the law.
“I won’t answer fer the rest of them, Corporal, but yuh can bank on me.”
“Good for you, Wolf.”
“An’ me too,” said Toby McCallum.
“Thank you, Toby.”
“If it ain’t out of order,” Brennan spoke again, “I’m kind o’ curious tuh know just where you’re takin’ us.”
“Mackenzie Barracks,” snapped the officer.
For a period of nearly ten minutes, conversation waned. Sandy had taken his place in the canoe and kept glancing back toward the trading post, looking for Toma.
“Don’t be so impatient, Sandy,” Dick advised him. “He’ll be along presently. When you get there, give my respects to Inspector Cameron.”
“Righto!”
A well-known figure made his way along the path from the warehouse. Not long afterward, the young Indian, attired in dry clothing and grinning broadly, took his place in the canoe beside Sandy. The order was given to start. Paddles dipped in the water.
“Good-bye, Dick, good-bye!” shrieked Sandy and Toma.
“Good-bye,” Dick answered, feeling suddenly very lonely and out of it.
Corporal Rand turned, smiled and waved his hand.
“Keep out of mischief, Dick,” he advised him.
“I’ll try to,” responded Dick.
To the surprise of everyone, Wolf Brennan swung half way around and leered back toward shore.
“Don’t go diggin’ up no more dinosaur’s bones,” he called out mockingly, while Toby McCallum bent forward and gave vent to a cackling, jarring laugh.
On that instant, Dick’s face shadowed and he bit his lips. The threat had gone home. So they had thrown that up to him? His hands clenched as he turned about facing the tittering crowd.
Dinosaur’s bones! Like a ghost of the past, it had come up to haunt him. The memory was not a very pleasant one. The picture burned in his mind—three credulous young men starting out on a fool’s errand. How easily they had all been taken in. A mere child, he reasoned bitterly, would have known better. Eyes straight to the fore, he strode angrily across the landing and up the familiar, well-beaten, path.
“I’ll show them yet,” he blurted angrily to himself. “I’ll make it my business to wipe out that disgrace if it’s the last thing I do.”
In the trading room, Mr. Scott awaited him.
“Well, have they gone?” he inquired eagerly.
“Yes,” answered Dick, forcing a smile, “they’re on their way now.”
“Their start wasn’t very propitious, was it?” The factor moved back to the counter.
“No,”—glumly.
“Why Dick,” accused the factor, “you look as if you hadn’t a hope in the world. I wouldn’t worry if I were you. Your friends will return safely. Two weeks isn’t very long, Dick, when you stop to consider.”
“I wasn’t thinking of that. I—I mean I know they will. It isn’t that.”
“For goodness sake, then, what is the matter?”
Dick slumped into a chair, removed his hat and ran his fingers through his hair.
“Mr. Scott,” he began, “we’ve been pretty good friends and I’m going to take you into my confidence. Something is troubling me. Perhaps you can help. Perhaps——” he paused, regarding the other perplexedly.
“You can depend on me,” the other did not hesitate. “What is it?”
“It concerns the dinosaur.”
“Dinosaur!” gasped the factor.
“Yes. I’ve decided that I’m going to do something about it. Have you ever seen it, Mr. Scott?”
The factor shook his head. “No, never,” he answered. “I’ve heard of it though. I was here two years ago when Donald Frazer went up to look at it. Quite a curiosity, I believe.”
“You’re right. It is. It must be a very valuable fossil. I believe that Frazer was right when he told us, Sandy, Toma and me, that it was very valuable. No doubt, some museum somewhere would be glad to pay real money for it.”
“I shouldn’t wonder. But what are you driving at, Dick? You’re the most restless scamp I ever saw. Exactly what is on your mind now?”
“I’d like to make a contract with someone to take that dinosaur outside—to sell it.”
“Is it because you are short of money? If you are, I——”
“No,” Dick interrupted, “that isn’t it at all. I want to take out that dinosaur for reasons of my own, Mr. Scott.”
“You’re really serious about this?”
“Never more serious in my life.”
“Well what do you want me to do to help you?”
“First of all, I want your advice. Just for the sake of argument—supposing that it were humanly possible to remove the skeleton from that island—where could one be likely to sell it?”
Mr. Scott pursed his lips and gazed at Dick thoughtfully.
“Well I must confess that that’s a big order. Guess I’ll have to think it over. Have a sleep on it. No, wait a minute! Tell you, Dick, what I’d do if I were in your shoes and really wanted to sell that dinosaur. I’d write to the Canadian Geographical Society at Toronto and get their advice. They know all about such things. Just the sort of project they’d be interested in.”
“Thank you,” said Dick, his eyes shining. “I appreciate your suggestion. Now we come to the really difficult part. Supposing that the society really is interested, how in the name of all that’s worth while am I going to solve the problem of transporting—conveying it outside? Remember the thing must weigh tons.”
“As large as that?”
“Yes.”
The factor wrinkled his nose in perplexity. “That lets out a raft or canoe. Why not build a scow?”
For a moment, Dick’s heart leaped. Then suddenly he became serious again.
“No, that wouldn’t do either. Even a scow would be battered hopelessly about in the rapids. The dinosaur, unless very carefully taken apart and crated—and I wouldn’t know how to do that—could not be carried over the portages. And even if it could be, you couldn’t portage a scow. If you let it go through the rapids, it would be broken up. Remember, too, that you are bucking an upstream current. What motive power would you use for the scow?”
Mr. Scott threw up his hands in a gesture of mock despair.
“Enough! Enough!” he cried. “I can see now that a scow is out of the question.”
“At the same time,” puzzled Dick, “it wasn’t a bad suggestion. As you know, the skeleton of the dinosaur is on an island in the center of a lake. We could build a scow to take it to shore. But what to do with it after we got it there, is more than I can tell you. I’ve racked my brains trying to figure it all out. From the lake of the dinosaur to Big Rock River, a tributary of the Peace, is over five hundred miles. There are no trails. Even if we had plenty of horses and wagons, it would be absolutely impossible to take the dinosaur out that way.”
“I give up,” sighed the factor. “From what you have told me, that dinosaur seems to be pretty safe from molestation. It’s a hard problem, and just now I can’t think of any solution. Why bother with it, Dick? The game isn’t worth the candle.”
Dick shook his head stubbornly. “There must be some way. Nothing is impossible. I won’t give up yet. I won’t!”
Mr. Scott was surprised at the other’s vehemence. He stared at Dick wonderingly, then turned and strode over to the door. Just then a customer came in and the subject was dropped. His brows puckered, Dick lounged to the door and looked outside.
“Hang the luck!” he whispered to himself. “The farther I get into this thing, the more difficult it appears.”
With an impatient, angry gesture, he yanked his hat down over his eyes and strode outside.
CHAPTER XXIX.
THE RIVER PILOT.
On the next day, the routine and monotony of life at the post was broken by the arrival of the Hudson’s Bay Company’s steamer from Painter’s Ferry. It carried a cargo of merchandise and the bi-monthly mail for persons residing at the post and vicinity. Dick was on hand when it hove to and tied up at the landing. Factor Scott was also there and waved his hand at the pilot, Captain Morrison, who stood near the rail while the gang plank was lowered. A moment later, a crowd of passengers trooped down to the shore. Dick followed the factor who went aboard to speak to the captain.
“You’re a day ahead of your schedule,” he smiled as they shook hands.
Captain Morrison was a grizzled veteran of twenty years’ continuous service with the great fur company. Few men knew the North better than he. On the Athabasca, the Peace and the Mackenzie Rivers and Great Slave Lake he had passed a long and eventful career. Scarcely a white person in the North that he had not met at some time or other. He smiled when he saw Dick, stepped forward and extended a brawny hand.
“Perhaps you don’t remember me, my boy. You’re Dick Kent, aren’t you? I was at Peace River Crossing two years ago when you made that flight from near Fort Good Faith to the Crossing in that airplane with that fire ranger.”
“At the time of the small-pox epidemic,” Dick recalled. “I remember you now.”
“I had the Northern Queen then. My run was from Fort Vermilion to Hudson’s Hope. Got transferred up here this spring.”
Morrison turned for a moment to call out instructions to the first mate, then resumed:
“Still assisting the police?”
“Occasionally,” answered Dick.
“That’s what I thought. We passed Corporal Rand, Mr. Frazer and a number of others in two canoes. Where are they bound for?”
“Mackenzie Barracks,” answered Mr. Scott.
“Frazer accompanying the policeman?”
“Yes.”
“Had some trouble here?” persisted the captain.
It was a little difficult for Mr. Scott to explain the circumstances. He hesitated, looking at Dick.