CHAPTER VII THE MYSTERIOUS POKE

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Dick and Sandy waited breathlessly. Thus far, no sound had come to them. The forest was pervaded by a silence so deep and oppressive that the two boys, waiting for Toma’s mysterious call, could hear the thumping of their own hearts. They had crept forward through the dense thicket to a point where, though still concealed themselves, they could see the cabin plainly. In the sombre northern twilight its every detail stood clearly revealed—the low, grass-grown sod roof, the tiny window and the crude, rough door.

The boys found it difficult to restrain their gathering impatience. What was Toma doing? Chafing over the delay, they crouched low, their gaze sweeping the tiny clearing ahead. On Dick’s forehead beads of perspiration gathered slowly, while the palms of his hands were moist and warm.

“Can’t imagine what’s happened to him,” Sandy croaked in Dick’s ear. “What’s he waiting for? What’s got into him, anyway? First thing we know, Frischette’ll be here—and it’ll be too late.”

Dick did not reply. Just then he thought he had heard a slight sound in the brush, directly in front of the house. Excitedly, he reached forward and seized Sandy’s right arm.

“Ssh!” he whispered. “Keep still. Just look over there.”

Following his friend’s instructions, Sandy looked and immediately his mouth gaped open, and he emitted a startled gasp.

Two men plunged out into the open—rough, desperate, evil-looking men, who made their way stealthily forward. Each carried a knife and revolver at his belt. One was tall and sinewy, the other short and thin. The tall man proceeded ahead with long awkward strides, while the little man at his side pranced along, like a small boy attempting to keep pace with his elder.

Of the two, the face of the smaller man was, if such a thing were possible, more sinister, malevolent and wicked than that of the other. His features were twisted in an expression that was both horrible and repellent. It was as if he had been overcome by some violent emotion: rage that hungered for revenge, or cruelty inflamed by avarice. In all their experience, the boys had never encountered a more terrifying pair. The very sight of them caused Dick and Sandy to shiver and draw back in a sudden panic.

“Ho-hope they don’t come this way,” shuddered Sandy.

“Toma saw them before we did,” whispered Dick. “That’s why he didn’t attempt that call. Who do you suppose they are?”

In terror, Sandy shook his head.

“Keep down,” he trembled, “or they may see us.”

Dick grew suddenly tense. The two men had reached the door of the cabin, and for a brief moment stood undecided. Then the tall man raised a gnarled hand and struck the door so violently and unexpectedly that Sandy and Dick both jumped back, as if they, instead of the rough pine barrier, had received the full impact of that mighty blow.

The echo had scarcely subsided, when the tall man struck again.

“Open up! Open up!” he thundered. “Creel, open up this yere door.”

The door swung back on its rusty hinges, and then the boys saw Creel framed in the aperture. But it was a different Creel than the man they had seen previously. He looked much older. The stoop to his shoulders was more noticeable. A pathetic figure now, a terror-struck human derelict. At the very best he could offer but feeble resistance to these two terrible fellows, who had come storming and raging upon him.

“Guess yuh know what we’ve come fer, Creel,” the little man snarled. “Yuh can guess, can’t yuh? Quick now, an’ bring it out. We’re in a hurry, I tell yuh. Quick!”

Creel made the fatal mistake of pretending he did not know what the other was talking about. He raised a trembling hand.

“If you’ll explain a little more clearly, gentlemen, what you want I’ll—”

The sentence was not completed. The tall man reached out with one arm and caught Creel about the neck. Scarcely seeming to exert himself, he lifted him completely off his feet, holding him dangling—head pressed back against the frame of the door. For a brief moment the body of the recluse remained pinioned there, then was suddenly released and fell with a muffled thud across the threshold.

Dick and Sandy, who had been silent witnesses of the drama unrolling before their eyes, caught their breath in anger. Much as they despised and feared Creel, the unwarranted brutality of the tall man caused them to experience a feeling of sympathy for the helpless old recluse. Dick’s hand flashed to the revolver at his belt, and he had half-started to his feet, when Sandy drew him back.

“Don’t be foolish, Dick,” he trembled. “Keep out of this. We can accomplish more by remaining right here where we are. Look!”

Creel had stumbled dazedly to his feet, gripping the door for support.

“Now,” declared the little man grimly, “I guess yuh understand. Bring it out.”

Creel staggered inside and appeared, a short time later, carrying the box. Both men made a grab for it, but the smaller was the quicker of the two. He flung open the lid of the small treasure-chest and both he and his companion pawed through it excitedly, their faces distorted with greed.

Dick and Sandy, who were watching events with wide-open eyes, were wholly unprepared for the next step in the little drama. In a sudden fury of disappointment, the little man raised the box and sent it crashing to the floor. His expression was awful to behold, his eyes like two bright coals of fire. Nor did his companion contain himself much better. With an oath, he spurned the box at his feet, sending it flying within the room. His cheeks were livid.

“It ain’t here, Emery!” he almost screamed. “It ain’t here! That squaw lied to us. We’re done for. MacGregor got it after all!”

But the other was not so easily discouraged.

“It is here!” he fairly howled in his rage.

With a lightning motion, he turned upon Creel, advancing with outstretched hands—hands that looked like the talons of some huge bird; hands that worked convulsively as they floated toward Creel’s throat. Before the little man’s advance, the old recluse tottered back, throwing up his arms in a defensive gesture.

“I’ll give yuh jus’ two minutes tuh bring out that poke,” the words came screaming at him. “Yuh got it. I know yuh got it. If yuh don’t want to make food fer the crows, yuh better trot it out.”

“Gentlemen—” began Creel, his voice deathly calm.

The little man’s right hand flashed out and for the second time Creel measured his length across the threshold. This time, however, he did not rise. In falling, his head had struck the sharp edge of the doorway, rendering him unconscious. Without even as much as a glance at him, the two men stepped over his prostrate body and disappeared into the room. For a space of nearly five minutes they remained inside, while Dick and Sandy sat in a sort of stupor and blankly regarded each other.

Then abruptly, Creel’s assailants re-appeared and from their expression and behavior, the boys realized instantly that the search had been successful. The big man guffawed loudly as he pushed Creel’s body to one side with his foot and stepped out into the pale light of that Arctic summer night.

“We got it,” gloated the little man. “That was a stroke o’ luck, pardner. The squaw was right. We got it!”

As he spoke, he drew from his pocket a small object and fondled it in his hands. Again the loud guffaw rang out, penetrating the silence. Chattering and exulting, the pair made their way through the lush grass that overran the clearing. Then, suddenly, they stopped. At the edge of the clearing there had sprung up a frail but defiant figure.

“Stop!” cried a voice. “Put ’em hands up or I shoot you quick.”

Creel’s assailants, looking straight at the muzzle of Toma’s revolver, had no other alternative. Their hands went high. Dick thought the pair looked very foolish standing there. And he could hear very plainly their astonished, burning oaths. He and Sandy leaped to their feet and hurried to Toma’s assistance. They came up from behind and, with a nod to their chum, quickly disarmed the murderous pair. But though they searched everywhere, they could not find the poke. Dick paused in consternation.

“Big fellow got it in his hand,” said Toma.

“Give it to me,” Dick turned upon the outlaw.

The big man’s eyes gleamed with hatred, but with Toma’s revolver threatening him, he was forced to obey.

“Take it,” he growled out an oath. “But I bet yuh don’t keep it long, stranger. Yuh won’t never get away with it. Jus’ mark my words.”

Dick stepped back, laughing.

“That remains to be seen,” he answered the outlaw. “You fellows can go now. If you know what’s good for you, you’ll leave this neighborhood as quickly as you can. I have the description of both of you and will notify the mounted police of this night’s affair.”

The partners struck off through the underbrush, calling out their taunts. It was not long before silence came again. The three boys stood in a little circle, looking at each other. Now that the tension had relaxed, they were all more or less bewildered. Dick still had the small poke in his hand, and as yet had scarcely deigned to give it a second glance. Suddenly, Sandy’s voice rang out:

“Well, if you ask me, this is a peculiar night’s business. I’m almost stunned. We’re indebted to Toma for the way everything has turned out. Let’s see what’s in that poke, Dick. Why don’t you open it?”

Dick looked down at the small object in his hand. He turned it over and over thoughtfully.

“No,” he said, “you can open it, Sandy. I’m too shaky.”

With the poke held firmly between two fingers, he reached out to hand it to his chum. But in that moment a strange thing happened. A crackling of brush, a lightning leap forward, a snarl like that of a beast—and the thing was whisked from his fingers as it dangled there in the air. Then a figure darted past them and disappeared in the darkness of the forest beyond.

The three chums gaped at each other.

“Who was that?” gasped Dick.

Toma was the first to speak.

“I see ’em,” he spoke dolefully. “It was Frischette.”

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                           

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