  Dick awoke on the following morning to find Sandy stooping over him, regarding him silently with eyes from which shone sympathy and deep concern. As a matter of fact, Sandy was seriously alarmed over his friend’s appearance. Dick’s bandaged head and somewhat pallid face gave him the look of one who hovers close to death’s door. There was an unmistakable catch in the young Scotchman’s voice as he leaned forward still closer to the recumbent form and inquired solicitously: “Are you feeling any better, Dick?” “I’m feeling fine,” came the surprising answer, “and I’m going to get up in about three minutes and fight it out with Corporal Richardson. I have no intention of being treated like a child.” The angry wave of color that swept into Dick’s cheeks, coupled with the dark frown and resentful eyes, so astonished Sandy that he sat down on the edge of the bed and gasped weakly: “You don’t really mean that. Why, Dick, you’re no match for Corporal Richardson. Besides, it’s a criminal offense to assault a mounted policeman.” “I’m not going to assault a mounted policeman,” Dick petulantly explained. “I think too much of Corporal Richardson for that. What I intend to do is to find out why he intends to keep us here until Malemute Slade returns. My contention is that as long as we obey the laws and conduct ourselves like honest citizens, no person has the right to interfere in our business.” Sandy sat for a long time before answering. Here was a problem that required a good deal of careful thought and attention. On the face of it, Dick’s grievance seemed pardonable, and yet common sense told him that Corporal Richardson was fair and just, not at all the sort of person to take advantage of his authority. If the mounted policeman insisted upon Dick and him staying here, there must be a good reason for it. “Didn’t Corporal Richardson tell you why he wanted us to stay here?” Sandy asked. “He and Malemute Slade thought we would be risking our lives if we followed Scar-Face.” “Well, perhaps they’re right.” Dick sat up and put one hand on his friend’s shoulder. “Listen to me, Sandy. Listen to me and then, if you wish, form your own opinion. The mounted police insist upon our remaining here at the post because if we undertake to follow old Scar-Face we may be risking our lives. They may be right. I haven’t the least doubt but that we’ll encounter certain dangers. Possibly we’ll be risking our lives but,” Dick paused and waved one hand dramatically, “what else have we been doing except just that: Risking our lives every day, running into dangers and difficulties with the consent of everybody, including the mounted police. Now, suddenly, for no reason at all, we’re asked to be good little boys, to remain indoors for fear we may catch a bad cold. I tell you, Sandy, it sounds fishy to me.” “Dick, I think you’d make a great orator,” said Sandy admiringly. “And a poor soldier,” chimed in a voice. “Pardon me for eavesdropping, gentlemen, but the fact is I couldn’t help overhearing a part of your conversation.” Faces red with shame, the two boys turned in the direction of the newcomer, Corporal Richardson himself, who stood just inside the door. Dick could have bit out his tongue or, better still, hid his head under the pillow while some friendly magician transported him—bed, blankets and all—to some remote place, thousands and thousands of miles distant. For the first time he realized what a fool he had been—a miserable young fool with a wagging tongue in his head. He hadn’t the courage to look Corporal Richardson in the face. “You’d make a poor soldier,” continued the corporal, calmly surveying the two culprits. “You see, Dick, a soldier’s first duty is obedience. What do you suppose would happen to me if I questioned my superior’s commands, if I didn’t do what I was told to do even if, deep down in my heart, I believed or knew that my superior was in the wrong?” “You’d be placed under arrest,” surmised Sandy. “Right! That’s exactly what would happen to me. And I’d deserve the punishment I got.” Corporal Richardson ceased speaking for a moment, strode forward and placed a kindly hand on Dick’s bandaged head. “Now don’t feel badly about this, Dick, and when I go out of the room I want you to try and forget the reprimand. Dismiss the whole incident, just as I propose to dismiss it. We’re all friends, I owe you boys a debt of gratitude. I admire you both very much. As a general thing, I’m not usually one to hand out compliments or bestow praise, but I’ll say this: You and Sandy are as rough a pair of young vagabonds as it has ever been my experience to meet.” A roar of laughter greeted this amusing sally, and for a moment Dick entirely forgot his discomfiture. “Seriously now,” Corporal Richardson continued, “I want both of you to understand my position in this matter. Remember this: It is one thing to risk your life, but quite another to risk your life needlessly. That’s exactly what you’d be doing if you went out on the trail with Malemute Slade. Your chance of stopping a bullet would be exceedingly good. Scar-Face would lead you into a trap before you had gone thirty miles. I tell you Henderson’s gang of cut-throats and ruffians has become a terrible menace to the entire western portion of this north country. Conditions have never been worse since the Riel Rebellion. If things do not improve shortly, I’m afraid the Royal Mounted will be compelled to call in outside aid.” “But what will happen to Malemute Slade?” questioned Sandy in awed tones. “To be perfectly frank, I’ll be worried about him and won’t know a single moment’s peace until he returns. However, Slade can look after himself much better than he could if you boys went with him. He’s the best scout in the mounted police service.” “Do you think he has any chance of recovering the map?” Dick asked. Corporal Richardson shook his head. “I doubt it very much. I do not believe any of us will ever see the map again. But that does not mean that you need give up hope altogether. Your chance of finding the mine and eventually getting it into your possession is almost as good now as it ever was.” “What do you mean?” both boys shouted out in unison. “Henderson and his gang will be apt to find it, won’t they? Well if they do, we’ll take it away from them. Could anything be simpler? It sounds easy but, of course, it isn’t. Just the same, I really do think the thing could be managed.” “A sort of roundabout way of gaining possession,” laughed Dick. “Any way is a good way, especially in their case,” grinned Sandy. “But if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to see Uncle Walter. He’s covered with bruises from head to foot. Painful, of course, but not serious. I can’t imagine how I managed to sleep through all that uproar last night.” “I’m not at all surprised,” rejoined Dick, who well knew his friend’s propensity in this regard, and never lost an opportunity of chiding him about it. When Sandy had hurried away, Corporal Richardson turned to Dick. “We’re friends, aren’t we?” “You bet!” came the answer unhesitatingly. “Corporal, I owe you an apology. I can see now what a fool I was.” Impulsively he extended his hand. “Now that that’s settled,” said Richardson, “I have a job for you. Do you happen to remember the messenger, who came last night?” “Yes.” “If you saw him again would you know him?” “Yes,” stated Dick positively. “How did he impress you?” “Why, favorably, I guess.” Dick wondered what the policeman was driving at. “That was my first impression too,” Corporal Richardson resumed, “but I have since had occasion to alter it considerably. I don’t mind telling you that I nearly made a very fatal error of judgment. That French-Canadian messenger was a fake, and he brought me a fake message, supposed to be from Inspector Cameron. I was fooled last night and permitted my man to escape. This morning a careful scrutiny of the message proved that the signature affixed was a forgery. In other words, the letter did not come from headquarters at all, although the stationery upon which it had been penned must have been stolen from the Inspector’s office.” “What did the letter say?” Dick asked. “It instructed me to proceed, not later than the morning of March 2nd—which is today—to a place called Little Run River and there place a certain person under arrest for the theft of valuable furs.” “But what would be the purpose of such a hoax?” Dick wanted to know. “Simply to get me out of the way. For some reason, not yet quite apparent, my presence here at Fort Good Faith is not wanted. For some reason, my presence here interferes with the carrying out of important plans of certain unscrupulous persons; which, of course, makes it all the more necessary why I should remain and why you should go on to Run River in my place.” Dick would not have jumped to his feet any quicker if he had been pricked by a pin. “In your place!” he gasped. “Why, corporal, I don’t understand! No one could mistake me for you!” “When I get through with you,” calmly smiled the mounted policeman, “anyone will be very apt to be fooled by the resemblance. The main thing is, you’re about my height.” At that moment Dick was too excited to grasp fully what the corporal was telling him. Presently, however, he was enlightened. “For the first time in your life, Dick,” declared Corporal Richardson, still smiling, “you’re going to don the uniform of his majesty’s Royal North West Mounted Police.” |
|
