  Dick Kent had no reason to doubt that Toma’s stealthily imparted information concerning the true identity of Bill Watson was correct. The man had been sent by Govereau. His story of the long trek from Twin Brothers Creek was a deliberate falsehood intended to deceive Dick and his friends. He was here as a spy to carry out certain instructions from Govereau, the accomplishment of which would probably result disastrously to their expedition. In a few minutes following Toma’s whispered warning, Dick thought swiftly. Their safety and the success of their plans depended upon immediate action. Something had to be done before Watson became aware that anyone suspected him. The first step, of course, was to discover some way to acquaint Sandy and Raoul with the stranger’s duplicity. This, of course, must be accomplished secretly, and in a manner that would not arouse Watson’s slightest suspicion. “If only on some pretext I could get the two of them outside,” thought Dick, “the rest would be easy. Four of us would have no difficulty in taking him prisoner. We would bind him hand and foot and then Raoul could keep him here several days while Sandy, Toma and I continued our journey with the dog team.” Annette entered from the adjoining room at Raoul’s summons and began removing the dishes from the table, in preparation for the meal for Watson, Toma and Dick. Watson now occupied a chair at one side of the room, and sat directly facing Sandy. Raoul had moved forward and was assisting his sister with her task, while Toma, like a restless spirit, remained unseated, occasionally changing his position from sheer nervousness. “I ain’t had very much to eat today,” Watson informed them, producing an evil-smelling pipe and lighting it with the stub of a match. “Been too busy mushing to think about it. Trail heavy all the way, too.” A strained silence followed. It was evident that Watson intended to make himself perfectly at home, for, a moment later, he stretched out his burly legs, and, to Dick’s disgust, spat on the floor. “Where you fellows bound for?” he demanded suddenly of Sandy. “Nowhere in particular,” replied the young Scotchman non-committally. “Where are you going?” Watson’s face darkened with a scowl. “I ain’t a goin’ to tell neither if that’s the way you feel about it. Guess you never was taught no manners, young man.” Sandy turned his head slightly and winked covertly at Dick. “No offense intended, I’m sure.” The man from Govereau’s camp grunted something under his breath. “Little boys ain’t got no business on the trail anyway,” he began again, this time in a scoffing tone that caused an angry red to mount suddenly in Sandy’s cheeks. In his restless moving about, changing positions often, Toma had presently come to a pause close to Sandy and now stood absently tossing a small object in his hand, his gaze directed toward Annette and Raoul, who were completing preparations for supper. Looking at him, no one would have suspected that any thought, out of the ordinary, lay at the back of the young half-breed’s mind. His face was expressionless, yet as Dick watched him, there flashed from them unexpectedly a look that could not be mistaken. It was as if Toma had sent him some sort of a signal. What was its meaning Dick could not possibly imagine until, apparently by accident, the small object, which looked like a brass buckle, fell from the guide’s hand and rolled under Sandy’s chair. As he stepped forward and stooped to get it, Dick knew from the expression on Sandy’s face that he, too, had been warned. “Supper all ready,” Raoul announced. Watson bounded to his feet and was the first to reach the table. Without waiting for further permission he pulled out a chair and slumped into it. Dick followed more leisurely, with Toma bringing up the rear. As they approached directly behind Watson’s chair, Toma’s hand shot out, poking Dick in the ribs. Half-turning, the recipient of the blow emitted a startled gasp as he perceived Toma’s long arms steal out and encircle the unsuspecting guest. Watson and the chair swayed backward, then toppled over, striking the floor with a resounding crash. The heavy, powerful form rolled to one side, endeavoring to break the iron grip of the young half-breed. For a tense second Dick stood inactive, then leaped to his friend’s assistance. Attempting to pinion Watson’s arms, to his horror Dick saw their opponent had actually succeeded in pulling a dangerous looking automatic from his pocket and was grimly endeavoring to use it. Dick seized Watson’s wrist in his two hands, putting forth his last ounce of strength in an effort to force the gun from the man’s grasp. In quick succession three ear-splitting reports rang out. Annette screamed. After that Dick was not quite sure what was taking place during that confused wild scramble on the floor until he felt the heavy body under him relax and a voice triumphantly proclaim: “Well, I guess that ought to settle him for a while.” With perspiration trickling down into his eyes, Dick looked up. Raoul stood with a small stick of wood in his hands and close beside him Sandy, a look of triumph on his face, each surveying their now helpless foe. “You didn’t hit him half hard enough, Raoul,” Sandy protested. “It was a good thing for him that I didn’t have that club, myself. I might have killed him.” “Hit ’em plenty hard,” Raoul confessed, tossing the stick back toward the fireplace. “Tie him up easy now. I go get rope.” Dick and Toma rose to their feet and a moment later Raoul returned with a rope. Bound hand and foot, Watson was lifted bodily and carried across the room, where he was deposited not unkindly in the selfsame bunk occupied by Sandy on the previous night. Dick breathed a sigh of relief. “I’m glad that’s over with,” he declared thankfully. “All things considered, we’ve been pretty lucky so far. We’ve beaten Govereau at every turn.” “Beaten but not licked,” Sandy reminded him. “I’ll have to admit right here that he’s a mighty tough customer. It’s a good thing Toma saw this man, Watson, before. Otherwise things might have turned out differently.” “We must get an early start in the morning,” said Dick, as he moved back toward the supper table. “I’d hate to meet any more visitors from Govereau’s camp. If Raoul is willing, I’ll pay him tonight for the team of huskies. What do you think would be a fair price for them, Toma?” “Raoul say he willing to sell for two hundred dollars,” answered the guide. “That very cheap for good team like that.” “I’ll make it two hundred and fifty. The additional amount wouldn’t begin to pay him for all the kindness he has shown us.” As he spoke, Dick reached in his pocket and pulled out the roll of bills Factor MacLean had given him on the day of their departure from Fort du Lac, and, counting out the sum mentioned, passed it over to Raoul. “I hope I’m not cheating you.” “You buy best dog team in the country,” Toma stated enthusiastically. “Mounted police use ’em last winter to carry mail. Govereau go fast to catch us now.” “How long will it take us to reach mounted police headquarters?” inquired Sandy. “Three, four day if nothing happen,” their guide answered. “First day snow too heavy to make trail good. After that mebbe get better.” A short time later, a low groan from Watson attested to the fact that that gentleman was slowly regaining consciousness. After considerable tossing and rolling about, their captive finally opened his eyes and presently called for a drink of water. “Feeling better now?” Dick inquired solicitously, when he complied with the request. “Yeah, I’m feeling better,” came Watson’s smothered retort as he glared up angrily at his questioner. “I’m feelin’ a blamed sight better than you’ll be feelin’ in another day or two, I can tell you that.” “You brought it all on yourself,” Dick reminded him. “You had no business coming here to play the part of a spy, in the first place. If you got hurt, it’s your own fault. All I’m sorry about is that the unpleasant little blow you received on top of your head wasn’t given to the man who sent you.” “What do you mean?” bluffed Watson. “I guess you know what I mean,” Dick spoke coldly, “and please get the idea out of your mind that we don’t know who you are, and where you came from.” “Where did I come from?” their prisoner blustered. “From Govereau.” “Well, what are you gonna do about it?” There was defiance in Watson’s voice. “If you mean, what are we going to do with you,” Dick answered, “I might as well tell you that we haven’t decided yet. A good deal depends upon the way you behave yourself.” “We’re thinking seriously of taking you outside and putting a bullet in you,” chimed in Sandy. “Yuh better not, if you know what’s best for you,” stormed Watson. “If yuh try that, Govereau’ll come down here and make mince-meat out of yuh.” “He might walk into the same kind of trap you did,” grinned Sandy. “Where is Govereau now?” asked Dick, shaking his head at Sandy in an effort to check the useless controversy. “If you answer my questions truthfully, we’ll let you off a whole lot easier than we would otherwise. We might even be induced to give you something to eat.” “He ain’t very far from here.” “How far?” “About two miles away. We’re camped in the heavy timber jus’ back from the river.” “How did he find out that we are stopping here for the present with Raoul?” “One of our men seen a dog team come up here early yesterday morning. Govereau thought it might be you, so he sent me over to find out.” “Is that all he told you to do?” For a few minutes Watson lay, staring about him, apparently quite oblivious of his surroundings. He paid no attention to the last question put to him. Finally he turned his head, his gaze meeting Dick’s squarely. “You fellows are in a mighty bad position, if you want to know it,” he suddenly blurted out. “There ain’t one chance in ten thousand that you’ll ever get through alive. Your only hope is to go back to the place you come from.” “I’m not asking you for advice,” said Dick angrily. “Jes’ the same, I’m tellin’ yuh. I wouldn’t take the whole of upper Canada to be a standin’ in your shoes just now. You’re only a kid an’ don’t realize how bad a mess you’re in.” Sandy strode forward and put a hand on Dick’s shoulder. “No use to bother with him, Dick,” he exclaimed in disgust. “We’re just wasting time. He’d keep us talking here all night. Our best plan is to get out of here as quickly as possible. Govereau may be along any time to find out what has happened to him.” “I think same, too,” Toma cut in. “What you say I hitch up huskies, and we start right away?” Dick glanced from one to the other. “I guess you’re right. We can’t any more than lose our way in the dark, and we’ve been lost before.” “But what are we going to do with him?” Sandy wondered, pointing at their prisoner. “We’ll have to leave him here with Raoul,” Dick replied. Then he turned to Toma’s friend. “Do you object?” he asked. “You can release him sometime tomorrow. That will give us a chance to be well on our way before Govereau learns what has become of us.” Raoul nodded his head, grinning. “All right, me keep ’em big fellow in bed. Bye an’ bye feed him with spoon like little baby. How you like that?” he asked, turning to Watson. The only reply from the man in the bunk was a snort of rage as he twisted to one side and glared helplessly about him. |
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