  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.” |
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