  Scarcely had the boys recovered from their astonishment, when they were treated to a still greater and more breath-taking surprise. Meade’s son was the first to draw their attention. In their interest in the newcomer, they had entirely overlooked the approach of two others. These two were Burnnel and Emery. They rode up to the accompanying thump, thump, thump of three wildly beating hearts. Astride two horses! Stolen horses! In his agitation, Dick rose and gripped the back of his chair. He recognized the wiry little ponies, and rubbed his eyes. Less than twenty-four hours before he had ridden one of them himself. The other belonged to Sandy. In truth, Dick had become so excited that for the next few moments he was barely aware of what was taking place. He was confused and befuddled. He saw Sandy and Toma shoot to their feet in sudden dismay and shrink back toward the open doorway. Not knowing that anything was wrong, Meade and his son had gone forward to bid the new arrivals a hearty welcome. And it was probably well that they did, for it gave the three boys time to slip within the log building, hurriedly cross the room and pass out of the door at the opposite side. All three were trembling with excitement. Below his shock of bright yellow hair, Sandy’s forehead was ashen. The boys hoped that they had not been recognized. Undoubtedly, while making their approach, Burnnel and Emery had seen them, but Dick recalled that in the position in which they sat out there on the front porch, they had been hid somewhat by the figures of Meade and his son. The coming of the two malevolent prospectors had placed them in a rather awkward, if not dangerous position. It would be impossible for them to remain at the road-house while the partners were there. Burnnel and Emery had not forgotten the encounter of two days before in front of Creel’s cabin. No doubt, they would take a great deal of pleasure in evening the score. Both were remorseless, savage, vindictive. Neither would hesitate for a moment to take any advantage offered, any opportunity for reprisal. “No, it will never do for us to remain,” Sandy trembled. “You and Toma can stay here if you like, Dick—not I. If we stay here, we’ll be compelled to fight it out.” “I willing fight,” Toma announced darkly. “It wouldn’t be fair to Meade,” Dick objected. “There’s sure to be trouble. Anyway, there’s nothing to be gained by remaining here.” “The thing to do,” said Sandy emphatically, “is to get out—go somewhere and make camp for the night. Either that, or start back at once for Frischette’s road-house, which we had planned to do tomorrow anyway. I’ll repeat that I don’t care to show my face around here—at least, not until Burnnel and Emery have gone.” They were standing just outside the door on the side of the cabin opposite to the one, where they had previously been sitting talking to the free-trader and his son. They were safe from detection here only for a few moments. As soon as Burnnel and Emery and “Rat” MacGregor’s wife put up their horses, they would enter the cabin. Then the boys would be seen, for not only the door but one window overlooked the space there on the west side of the house, where they were now standing. Toma pointed to a line of brush two or three hundred yards away, and they proceeded hurriedly toward it. In leaving thus surreptitiously, they had been forced to abandon part of their equipment—their rifles and shoulder-packs, and a small roll of Hudson’s Bay blankets. “What will Meade think?” Dick inquired anxiously, as they plunged into the dense thicket and commenced picking their way ahead. “He won’t understand our sudden disappearance. I’m afraid he’ll be anxious about us.” “Worse than that,” Sandy struck out at a branch directly in front of him before taking his next step. “He’ll be sure to give us away. Emery and Burnnel, if they don’t know it already, will learn from him that we were at the road-house when they arrived.” “It can’t be helped. I don’t think they’ll follow us.” “What beats me,” Sandy stopped altogether and turned to face his two companions soberly, “is how they managed to get away from Corporal Rand. You don’t suppose he turned them loose again, do you?” “It seems hardly likely, yet—” Dick paused. “Yet they’re here,” the young Scotchman finished the sentence for him. “Either they escaped, or he gave them their freedom. If he gave them their freedom, Rand has proved to his own satisfaction that Frischette really committed suicide. Then, of course, he wouldn’t have any reason for detaining them any longer.” “Perfectly true. But that doesn’t explain about the ponies. Rand may be kind-hearted and all that, yet he wouldn’t deliberately lend them the ponies, would he? We need them ourselves.” “They might have stolen the ponies,” reasoned Sandy. “That seems more probable.” “Well, what we do now?” Toma had grown impatient. “I think it be foolish to stay here in brush all night. Better we start right back an’ see if we find ’em Corporal Rand.” “But suppose the corporal didn’t release Burnnel and Emery?” Dick asked perplexed. “We’d be foolish to run away then. The least we could do, would be to keep in sight of them. Remember, Creel has already escaped.” In exasperation, Sandy strode over to a fallen tree trunk and sat down, moping his perspiring forehead with short, angry jabs, a scowl on his face. “O pshaw! What’s the use? Everything’s turning out all wrong. We’re getting deeper and deeper and deeper into trouble every minute. I’m through! I’ll never become a policeman or a good detective—I know I won’t. I’m growing tired of all this, Dick. It’s wearing on my nerves. It is, I tell you.” Dick and Toma both laughed. “Nonsense, Sandy! This is a game of wits. I like it.” Dick made a comical gesture with his hands. “All you have to do is to out-guess the other fellow. We’ll win in the end. We’re bound to.” “Oh, is that so. A guessing contest!” The other’s tones were deeply sarcastic. “Well, if that’s the case, we’re at the losing end right now. How many of your guesses have been correct?” Boy-fashion, Dick strode over and placed a hand on his chum’s indignant shoulder. “Forget it, Sandy. This isn’t a bit like you. Come on!” “Come on where?” Thus put to it, Dick found himself in somewhat of a predicament. The question required an answer. “Why—why—well—” he began. “You see, Sandy—” “It’s a contest,” Sandy reminded him scornfully. “All you have to do is to outwit the other fellow. You like it. Now tell me, please, what is your guess?” Dick flushed, but contrived to keep his temper. “I haven’t quite decided yet. There are two courses open to us. We can stay here and keep an eye on Burnnel and Emery, or go back to meet Corporal Rand.” In such a mood, Sandy got a good deal of enjoyment in tantalizing his friend. “All right. I’m waiting. Why don’t you guess?” Dick looked about him in desperation. Then gradually out of his perplexity there sprang a solution to his difficulty. It came like the sudden glimmer of inspiration. “We’ll have to do both,” he stated positively. “How?” “Separate.” “I don’t quite understand.” “One of us can go back to meet Corporal Rand, the other two remain here to watch Burnnel and Emery.” Sandy rose from his place on the fallen tree, grinning a little sheepishly. “Now you’re talking. Why didn’t you think of that before? Which one of us will go to meet the corporal?” “You can go if you like, Sandy,” said Dick with great magnanimity. “No, no; I wasn’t thinking about that. You’d better go, Dick. You’re the one that thought of it.” Dick shook his head. “I think I’d rather stay here, if you don’t mind.” “Just as you say.” Sandy was really pleased. “It’s a bargain, then, unless Toma—” “I like stay here, too,” declared Toma. The three boys were grouped together, facing each other. For the time being, they were off guard. Not that they had felt at any time during the past few moments that danger really threatened them. Although still fairly close to Meade’s road-house, they weren’t troubled about Burnnel and Emery just then. Even if the two prospectors had seen them when they rode up, it was extremely unlikely that they would attempt anything until they had fully rested. Immediate pursuit was a thing that had not entered the boys’ calculations, and yet— Dick’s first intimation of an attack, or even of the presence of an enemy, came when he beheld Toma—apparently for no reason at all—leap straight back, like a deer surprised in its forest haunt, and plunge headlong into a willow thicket. Sandy’s behavior was equally puzzling. Sandy sat down. He sat down on the seat he had just vacated and stared wildly past Dick, both eyes and mouth open wide. Whirling about, Dick blinked and caught his breath. A familiar pair confronted him. “Don’t move,” said a heavy voice. “We got yuh!” |
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