  Retiring to his room that night, Dick sat down in a chair near the open window and stooped to unlace his moccasins. The loft was smothering. Sunshine still streamed into the room. All day a furnace glare had lain over the river valley. Outside the grass was dry and the leaves of the white poplar curled from the intense heat. One of the longest days in the year, it would be three hours yet before the crimson ball of the sun, rolling through the northwestern sky, would sink to the line of the horizon. Ten feet away, sitting on the edge of his bunk, Sandy puffed and wiped his perspiring brow. “Whew! Let’s postpone going to sleep for a while and slip down to the river and have a dip. It will be the third time we’ve been in today, but we have to try to keep cool somehow. Cracky! But isn’t this loft hot.” In the act of pulling off one moccasin, Dick paused, considering Sandy’s suggestion. He rose from the chair and stood looking out of the window. “I’ll bet that’s where Toma is now,” he guessed. Just then he saw a movement in the brush, caught the bright gleam of sun upon steel, and stepped back just as the screen on the window shivered from the lightning stroke of a bullet. Something that felt like a breath of hot wind scorched his side. Two holes appeared as if by magic in his bulging flannel shirt. A vicious thud behind him and another hole showed in a pine log on the opposite wall. “Cracky!” exclaimed Sandy again. “Dick are you hurt?” “Almost got me that time.” Trembling, Dick walked over and exhibited the tell-tale holes. “Didn’t it even nick you?” gurgled Sandy. “Not a bit. That was lucky. I caught a glimpse of the man that fired the shot.” “Who was it?” “Pierre Mekewai.” “Wolf put him up to it.” “No question about that. Now that he’s got a little liquor into him, he’s commencing measures of retaliation.” The door opened below and someone came bounding up the stairs. White-faced, Factor Scott bounded into the room. “Did someone fire through the window just now?” “Yes,” answered Dick. “The devil!” exploded the factor. “As soon as I heard the report outside, I ran out to see if I could see anyone. Wonder what practical joker did that?” “It wasn’t a practical joker,” stormed Sandy. “It was an assassin. He—he tried to kill Dick. Dick was standing in front of the window. The bullet went right through his shirt. Come here, Mr. Scott, and look at it.” The factor, amazement written in his face, crossed the room as he was bidden. His eyes grew very wide and his lips compressed tightly. “Heavens! What a close call, Dick. You’re lucky you’re alive.” “Don’t I know it,” trembled Dick. “That settles it,” the factor’s breath caught and he plunked down in a chair. “Tomorrow I’m going to send word to the police.” “No, I wish you wouldn’t.” Mr. Scott started in surprise. “Wish I wouldn’t! Why not? When murder is attempted I think it’s about time something was done about it. When the police come, they’ll find out who fired that bullet.” “I already know who fired the bullet.” “Who?” the factor’s voice snapped. “Pierre Mekewai.” “Are you sure?” “Absolutely. I saw him.” “Very well then, I’ll put him under arrest. But what—Good Heavens, what grudge has he against you?” “It’s not his grudge. It’s Brennan’s and McCallum’s. We had some trouble down river. They’re trying to even the score, that’s all.” “In that case we’ll have them all placed under arrest.” “No, not yet, Mr. Scott. For certain reasons of my own I do not wish anything done about this for the time being, anyway. And as for the police, until we find we can’t cope with the situation ourselves, we won’t call them.” “Dick, I think you’re mad.” “No, not mad,” Dick smiled. “I’m merely carrying out, or I should say Sandy, Toma and I are carrying out certain investigations.” “For whom?” “The mounted police.” Factor breathed an expansive sigh. “Well all I hope is that everything will come out all right. I’d hate to have any of you boys get hurt.” “For our own sakes, I hope so too,” grinned Sandy. “But what’s at the bottom of this?” the factor commenced all over again. “You can’t make me believe that men will attempt murder because of some trivial grudge.” “I’m not trying to,” retorted Dick. “We’re not sure what it’s all about ourselves. But we propose to find out.” “Good for you!” applauded the factor. Next morning, when Dick and Sandy awoke, there was another surprise in store for them. Bounding from his bed, the former was the first to make the discovery. He stood, staring in dismay. Across the room, Toma’s bunk had not been disturbed. Where was he? Overcome with sudden fear, he stepped forward, gasping. “Sandy!” he shrieked, pointing. “Sandy!” The young Scotchman became so weak at the thought of what might have happened, that he gave utterance to a little cry of dismay and sat down. “It’s all our fault,” he moaned. “We shouldn’t have gone to bed until we had found out where he had gone. Something terrible has occurred or he’d have been back long before this.” “I’m afraid so,” Dick was forced to admit. “He knows we’d worry about him if he stayed out all night. He wouldn’t do it either unless he was hurt—or—or——” Sandy’s voice broke. The boys commenced feverishly to tear into their clothes, and, in less than two minutes, they were bounding down the stairs into the trading room. Factor Scott looked up in surprise at their precipitous entrance. “What’s wrong now?” “Mr. Scott, have you seen Toma?” The factor rubbed his chin. “Why, no, I haven’t. Didn’t he come in last night?” The boys did not answer. Bolting to the door, they ran outside. They began searching everywhere. They made inquiries of every person they met. Organizing a search party, they scoured the woods in the vicinity of the post. That afternoon at three o’clock, beaten and discouraged, they returned to the trading room to see if by any chance Toma had returned during their absence. Factor Scott met them at the door. Dick’s and Sandy’s dejected appearance told the story. The factor knew without asking that they had been unsuccessful. He endeavored to comfort them. “We mustn’t worry,” he said, placing a kindly arm about the shoulders of the disconsolate pair. “I feel sure that Toma is safe. I really can’t make myself believe there has been foul play.” “Wish I could think that,” Sandy’s eyes were tragic. “Mr. Scott,” requested Dick, “may we see you alone for a few moments?” “Why, yes. Certainly.” Dick turned and dismissed the search party and he and Sandy followed the factor inside. They went directly to the little room at the back. Scott closed and locked the door. “What is it, Dick?” he asked. “Sandy and I have come to a decision. We’re going to have it out with Brennan, McCallum and the two Mekewai brothers. We’re convinced that those four men know where Toma is—wh—what has happened to him. They’re going to tell us or we’ll know the reason why.” Aghast, the factor stood and stared at the two boys. “What!” he exclaimed. “You’d go there? Why, they’ll kill you. You’re no match for them. Just pause to consider, Dick. Don’t be rash. There must be a better way than that.” “If there is,” Dick’s tones struck coldly upon the ears of the older man, “I wish you’d tell me. If they haven’t already killed him, there’s a chance that Toma may be over at the Mekewai tepee.” “You mean held prisoner?” “Yes, there’s a faint chance. I haven’t much hope that we’ll find him. I believe that they murdered him, just as they tried to murder me last night.” “If you’re determined to go,” suggested the factor, “can’t I send a few men along with you?” “No, we’ll go alone. We don’t know whom we can absolutely trust. Thank you for your willingness to help. Come on, Sandy.” As they walked back into the trading room, the younger boy, who was in the lead, stopped unexpectedly and gave vent to an ear-splitting screech: “Toma!” In the doorway swayed the young Indian. A livid scar streaked his forehead. His hat was gone and his hair was crusted with blood. He stood there, smiling feebly. In a moment two strong pair of arms encircled him and bore him triumphantly and joyously into the room. Sandy was sobbing like a child. Dick laughed half hysterically, his eyes filled with tears. “I’ll bring some bandages,” shouted the factor. |
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