“How do you know that?” asked Dick.
“It’s all very simple. If the Indians had stolen liquor they would have proceeded to get gloriously drunk. They wouldn’t have been able to resist the temptation. I know Indian nature well enough for that.”
“You’re quite right.” laughed Dick. “We’ll eliminate such an hypothesis. Now what I’d like to know is, what did they steal out of that cellar?”
The factor bit his lips. “I confess that I don’t know. Every day for the past three weeks I’ve gone to the cellar and, if there was anything there beside those empty packing boxes, the cases of liquor and wrapping paper, I’d have seen it. If it wasn’t for the evidence of the broken lock on the trading room door, I’d be very much inclined to believe that you have been the victim of a nightmare or an hallucination.”
“And I wouldn’t blame you in the least,” stated Dick smiling. “However, as you say, that broken lock is pretty conclusive evidence of a forced entrance. Of course, you have only my word as to the rest of the story.”
“I wouldn’t doubt you, Dick,” the factor patted his shoulder. “I know you’re sincere and truthful about this. I really believe that you saw the two Indians come up from the cellar carrying those two loaded burlap sacks. By the way, Dick, if those had contained bottles you’d have heard the rattle.”
“That’s true. No sound came from the sacks.” Dick paused and stroked his chin reflectively. “Pshaw! We don’t seem to be getting anywhere. Mr. Scott, will you give me permission to go down into that cellar and examine it carefully? I just want to satisfy myself that we haven’t overlooked anything.”
“Certainly. I’d be glad to have you. I’ve been down there myself a number of times since the robbery. I’ve gone over every foot of space and found nothing at all suspicious; found nothing that might give me a clue to what the Mekewai brothers stole. But though I searched carefully, I might have overlooked something. Two pairs of eyes are better than one. Go down and look for yourself.”
Dick went down. He lighted the candle that was always to be found on the shelf near the bottom of the stairway, and explored every inch of space in that dark interior. The floor of the cellar was constructed of heavy planks nailed to logs which had been sunk into the earth. In a country where cement was almost unknown, it was as good a flooring for a basement as could be found anywhere. Starting at one end of the cellar, Dick examined every plank in the floor. The planks had been in the cellar for a long time and they made a clattering noise as he walked over them. This suggested an idea. He wondered if any of the planks were loose. He went up to the trading room, procured a heavy chisel and returned and tried to pry up the planks.
The eighth plank over from the bottom of the stairway, to his great glee, he discovered was loose. It came up when he exerted a slight pressure upon it. Grasping the plank next to it, he found that that also was loose. Pulling up this second board he received a rude shock. The edge of a gaping hole, freshly dug in the earth, was visible there under the planking. Removing another section of the floor, he completely uncovered it. Reaching out for the candle, he explored the shallow pit below.
The hole was about three feet wide, six feet long and three feet deep. The dirt taken from it had been thrown under the planking between the logs used as support for the floor. The pit was absolutely empty.
Dick’s first impulse was to return to the trading room and report his discovery to Mr. Scott. But on second thought he decided not to do this. He would work on the case alone, not even saying anything to Sandy and Toma. He would find out what the Indians had taken out of that pit. When he did, something told him that he would have a clear case against Frazer.
He replaced the flooring hurriedly, scraped dust over the loose planks and ascended to the room above. Busy waiting on a number of customers, the factor did not accost him. Dick proceeded straight outside and sat down on the long bench to think it over.
In a few minutes he came to a decision. He got quickly to his feet, re-entered the trading room and made his way upstairs to the loft. From among his personal belongings he picked up a small black automatic, thrust it in his hip pocket and again made his way outside. The first person he saw was Toma.
“Where you go, Dick, in so big hurry?” the young Indian asked.
Previously, when he had made his plans, Dick had decided to play a lone hand, but now it would be a little awkward getting rid of Toma. Well it would do no harm in taking him along. Toma was close-mouthed and dependable. He might prove to be of valuable assistance in an emergency.
“I’m going down to see those two Indians,” Dick informed him. “Care to come along?”
“Yes,” grunted his chum.
Dick took him by the arm. “Come along then,” he said.
Together they hurried along the foot trail in the direction of the river. Passing the warehouse, a voice called out lustily.
“Hey there!”
It was Sandy. Dick and Toma paused while the third member of the trio shambled up.
“Where are you fellows going?” Sandy inquired suspiciously.
Dick gave up. He could see how impossible it was now to keep anything from two friends like these. Then and there he confessed.
Both Sandy and Toma were astonished at the outcome of Dick’s investigations.
“A hole under the floor of the cellar!” Sandy exclaimed. “Good Heavens, what do you suppose Factor Frazer has been concealing there?”
“I don’t know but I have a hunch,” Dick answered, proud of the impression he had made.
“Tell us,” pleaded Sandy.
“I haven’t time just now. I’m anxious to get over to the Mekewai brothers’ tepee to have a look around. There’s a remote chance that we’ll find those two sacks of loot.”
Sandy balked. “If we’re going over there,” he said, “I want a gun.”
“I have one,” Dick patted his hip pocket. “Anyway I don’t think they’ll have the courage to attack us in broad daylight. Hurry if you’re coming.”
They followed Dick down the path to the river, then along the shore to the Mekewai tepee. His two chums crowding close behind him, Dick knocked gently against the closed flap.
“Hello! Hello!” he called.
They heard subdued voices within. The flap was drawn aside and the Mekewai boys stooped down and peered at them through the entrance.
“What you want?” one of them asked gruffly.
“Came over to see if you could lend us a canoe so that we can go fishing,” lied Dick. “Our own is damaged and we are having it repaired.”
“No have canoe,” growled one of the Mekewai boys.
But Dick was not put off so easily.
“Do you know anyone that has?”
“Come in,” one of the Indians invited, “an’ I try think where mebbe you find one.”
Dick pressed a coin in the hand of each of the two brothers.
“Wish you could,” he said, stepping inside.
One glance told Dick what he wanted to know. There were no sacks here. Nothing at all of an incriminating nature. Dick was tremendously disappointed and he could not resist turning his head and looking at Sandy.
Sandy was amused. There was a twinkle in his eyes and the beginning of a smile puckering the corners of his mouth.
“I think mebbe I know fellow that has canoe,” one of the Indians spoke up. “How much you like pay?”
“We didn’t want to buy one,” stated Sandy, helping Dick out. “We wanted to borrow one.”
“Don’t know anybody like ’em borrow you canoe.”
“Thank you,” said Dick, backing toward the door. “In that case we’ll have to wait until our own is repaired.”
The three boys went out, Dick scowling, Sandy and Toma amused over the interview.
“Never mind, old chap,” consoled Sandy, “you may have better luck next time. By the way, what do you think they’ve done with the stuff?”
“Don’t worry, they’ve either hidden it somewhere or have sent it over to Frazer. I hardly expected to find it there. There was about one chance in a thousand.”
“Now that we’re on the subject,” coaxed Sandy, “Perhaps you’ll be willing to tell me what your hunch is. What did those two Indians bring up out of that pit?”
“Gold,” came the answer unhesitatingly.
Sandy looked dubious. “What makes you think it was gold?”
“I’ll tell you why. If you recall the conversation between your Uncle Walter and Frazer the day we had the trouble in the trading room, you will remember that Frazer said that he had paid the shortage in gold. That’s the only reason I have for suspecting that it was gold that the Indians took out of the cellar. If Frazer had two thousand dollars worth of gold, sufficient to cover his shortage, it is not unlikely that he had more of it stored away somewhere. Frazer did not explain satisfactorily to your uncle how he had obtained that gold. The inference is that he stole it.”
“Seems reasonable,” said Sandy, “and I wonder from whom.”
The next morning, Wolf Brennan and Toby McCallum arrived at Half Way House. Sandy, who was walking along the river at the time, witnessed their approach, a grim and dour pair aboard a light raft, which they poled and shoved against the tugging current.
Sandy did not wait for them to put in at the boat landing. Suddenly fearful, he hastened up to the post to spread the alarm. Dick and Toma received the news calmly. The former went immediately to his room, buckled on his revolver and returned to the trading room to announce to his two chums that he proposed to go down to the river forthwith to meet the new arrivals.
“Dick,” exploded Sandy, “you’re crazy! Have you forgotten the letter you received?”
Dick shook his head. “No, I haven’t. That’s the very reason I’m going down there. If they think they can intimidate me, they’re badly mistaken. If I show the white feather they’ll make life miserable for me—not only for me but for all of us. The best thing to do is put on a bold front and go down there and show them that I’m not afraid.”
“Cracky!” admired Sandy. “I wouldn’t have the nerve to do that. They may pull a gun and shoot you.”
“You show ’em pretty good sense, Dick,” declared Toma, indicating by his expression how proud he was of his chum. “When them fellow see you down at the boat landing they won’t know what to think.”
“Come on,” said Dick, “let’s hurry.”
They ran all the way down to the river. They arrived there just as the two outlaws drove their raft up to the landing and made fast. Pushing his way through the crowd, Dick was one of the first to welcome them.
“Hello, Wolf. Hello, Toby. I see you’ve got back. I received your letter, Brennan.”
The outlaws were nonplused, taken aback by the unexpectedness of Dick’s greeting. Both were seething with fury. In the very act of reaching for his gun, Wolf paused and bethought himself of the mounted police. For all he knew, this might be a trap for them to fall into.
“Yes, we got back,” growled Wolf, his face red with humiliation. “We got back an’ we’re going to stay here fer awhile. We got a lot of business to attend to here at Half Way House,” he hinted darkly. “Just as soon as we’ve seen Factor Frazer, we got a little matter we want to talk over with yuh.”
Looking around and perceiving no mounted policemen in the crowd, Wolf raised his voice.
“A little matter we want to discuss with yuh an’ your friends.”
“Factor Frazer isn’t here any more,” Dick told them.
Both the men gave a quick start, staring at him incredulously.
“You’re lyin’,” croaked McCallum.
“Go and see for yourself,” Dick spoke calmly. “Mr. Scott is in charge here now.”
The news had a very unusual effect upon the two newcomers. McCallum went suddenly pale and the frown upon Wolf Brennan’s forehead blackened like a thunder cloud. Yet is was apparent that they only half believed Dick’s statement. Seizing his rifle and a small bag of luggage, Wolf motioned to his companion and they lumbered up the path toward the trading post. The boys followed them all the way, slipping through the door just as Brennan demanded:
“Where’s Donald Frazer?”
Scott turned quickly at the sound of the gruff voice.
“Mr. Frazer isn’t here any more.”
“Where is he?”
“That’s a question, Mr. Brennan, that I can’t answer. I do not happen to be in Mr. Frazer’s confidence. The former factor went away very suddenly and left no forwarding address. Otherwise I might suggest that you could write to him.”
The sarcasm was lost upon Brennan.
“I believe yuh know an’ don’t want to tell us,” McCallum growled.
Wolf Brennan marched to the counter and made a few purchases. When this had been done, he turned, held a whispered consultation with his partner, then again approached the factor.
“Got any liquor?” he snarled.
“A little,” answered Scott, not wishing to sell it to him.
Brennan’s ugly face lighted up and he started for the cellar door.
“I know where yuh keep it,” he said, “an’ I’ll go down an’ fetch a couple of bottles. That’s the way I always done when Frazer was here.”
Factor Scott came around the corner of the counter, his cheeks flushed with anger.
“Mr. Frazer isn’t here now,” he informed Brennan hotly. “If you want two bottles of liquor, I’ll get it myself. And while we’re on the subject, I’ll tell you this much: I don’t care about selling the stuff to people like you and McCallum. Also I want to warn you, if you get drunk and cause any trouble around the post, I’ll put you on the list and you’ll never get another drop from me as long as I remain in charge here.”
The two partners exchanged significant glances and Wolf’s face fell. Observing this, Scott believed that it was his threat that caused their sudden dejection. But not Dick. He could see through the wily plan of the big prospector. Brennan wanted to go down to the cellar alone to fetch his two bottles because, by doing so, he would have an opportunity to look into the pit and see if the gold was still there.
When Scott returned with the bottles, McCallum paid for them and the two partners stalked out. Watching their exit, the factor turned grimly to Dick.
“When did they get here?” he asked.
“Just a short time ago. We met them at the boat landing when they arrived.”
Factor Scott scowled. “I hope they decide to leave again before they commence to drink that rum. They’re vicious. Frazer seemed to get along with them well enough but it was because he let them have their own way. All winter they’ve been a regular pest around here, have instigated more fights and have caused more trouble than any other twenty men in this entire region. But now that I’m in charge,” Factor Scott’s lips tightened, “they don’t want to try their bullying methods with me.”
Soon afterward the boys went outside and sat down on the bench to discuss the new development.
“Brennan didn’t fool me when he suggested going to the cellar,” Sandy stated.
“You’re thinking about the pit, aren’t you?” smiled Dick. “The same thought came into my mind. Wolf wanted to find out whether or not Frazer had taken the gold.”
“What do you suppose they’ll do next?” mused Sandy.
Toma rose nervously and paced back and forth in front of the store building. Abruptly he stopped in front of Dick, frowning.
“Them fellow go to find Pierre and Henri Mekewai,” he said. “Why not we go ’long too? Mebbe we find out where they hide the gold.”
“Why not?” Sandy bounced to his feet. “Listen, Dick. I have an inspiration. Let’s cut straight through the woods over to the river and hide in the brush behind the Mekewai tepee. If you recall, their tepee is set at the bottom of a slope just below a heavy thicket of alders. The alder bushes are only about twenty feet from the tepee. If they commence drinking, they’ll talk loud enough so that we’ll be able to catch a good deal of what they say.”
Dick was so pleased with this plan that he clapped Sandy on the back, suggesting that they start at once. Less than a quarter of an hour later, they crawled on hands and knees into the thicket at the place designated. It was very quiet in the tepee. The only sound they heard was the murmur of the river.
“They haven’t arrived here yet,” Dick whispered. “But I’m pretty sure they’ll be along in a few minutes. Just now, I imagine, they’re making inquiries down at the boat landing. You see, they don’t know yet whether the Mekewai boys are here or whether they have gone with Frazer.”
Toma parted the bushes and looked out.
“I see somebody come,” he announced excitedly.
Dick and Sandy rose to their knees and they, too, peered down along the shore.
“Brennan and McCallum all right,” Sandy whispered breathlessly.
Dick nudged his chum, “Careful!” he warned. “Let’s all sit down and be very quiet.”
Soon afterward they could hear voices in the tepee, the loud domineering voice of Wolf Brennan, the rasping snarl of Toby McCallum and the broken, guttural tones of one of the Mekewai boys. Only occasionally, however, did they catch a word they could understand.
But true to Sandy’s prediction, the voices grew more noisy. They had probably opened one of the bottles. Heavy oaths punctured the talk now. An argument of some sort seemed to be in progress.
“It’s a lie!” suddenly screamed McCallum.
Then the boys heard quite distinctly Wolf thunder out: “Where’s Henri?”
Sandy leaned close to Dick whispering in his ear: “Hear that? Only one of the Mekewai boys is inside there. Wonder where the other is?”
At that moment Dick felt a thrill of excitement go through him. Brennan was speaking and he had heard another sentence.
“If yuh didn’t bury it in a safe place, yuh’ll have to answer for it.”
“Plenty safe,” they heard Pierre Mekewai answer.
A roar of ribald laughter was followed by splintering glass. Evidently, they had already finished one bottle and had broken it. The voices subsided a little hereafter and the three boys were straining their ears in an effort to make out what was being said, when a soft, cat-like tread sounded behind them.
Dick whirled, his hand darting to the revolver at his side. Sandy gave a low exclamation of dismay. Toma grunted. Approaching them was the other Mekewai brother. He carried a rifle. His pock-scarred face was twisted in a hideous leer.
“What you fellow do here?” he demanded.
“Haven’t we a right to sit here if we want to?” trembled Dick.
“You go ’way pretty quick,” threatened the Indian.
The boys rose to their feet, feeling like culprits caught in the act of committing some petty offense.
“You go quick,” snarled the Indian. “If you come back again, next time I shoot.”
Retiring to his room that night, Dick sat down in a chair near the open window and stooped to unlace his moccasins. The loft was smothering. Sunshine still streamed into the room. All day a furnace glare had lain over the river valley. Outside the grass was dry and the leaves of the white poplar curled from the intense heat. One of the longest days in the year, it would be three hours yet before the crimson ball of the sun, rolling through the northwestern sky, would sink to the line of the horizon. Ten feet away, sitting on the edge of his bunk, Sandy puffed and wiped his perspiring brow.
“Whew! Let’s postpone going to sleep for a while and slip down to the river and have a dip. It will be the third time we’ve been in today, but we have to try to keep cool somehow. Cracky! But isn’t this loft hot.”
In the act of pulling off one moccasin, Dick paused, considering Sandy’s suggestion. He rose from the chair and stood looking out of the window.
“I’ll bet that’s where Toma is now,” he guessed.
Just then he saw a movement in the brush, caught the bright gleam of sun upon steel, and stepped back just as the screen on the window shivered from the lightning stroke of a bullet. Something that felt like a breath of hot wind scorched his side. Two holes appeared as if by magic in his bulging flannel shirt. A vicious thud behind him and another hole showed in a pine log on the opposite wall.
“Cracky!” exclaimed Sandy again. “Dick are you hurt?”
“Almost got me that time.” Trembling, Dick walked over and exhibited the tell-tale holes.
“Didn’t it even nick you?” gurgled Sandy.
“Not a bit. That was lucky. I caught a glimpse of the man that fired the shot.”
“Who was it?”
“Pierre Mekewai.”
“Wolf put him up to it.”
“No question about that. Now that he’s got a little liquor into him, he’s commencing measures of retaliation.”
The door opened below and someone came bounding up the stairs. White-faced, Factor Scott bounded into the room.
“Did someone fire through the window just now?”
“Yes,” answered Dick.
“The devil!” exploded the factor. “As soon as I heard the report outside, I ran out to see if I could see anyone. Wonder what practical joker did that?”
“It wasn’t a practical joker,” stormed Sandy. “It was an assassin. He—he tried to kill Dick. Dick was standing in front of the window. The bullet went right through his shirt. Come here, Mr. Scott, and look at it.”
The factor, amazement written in his face, crossed the room as he was bidden. His eyes grew very wide and his lips compressed tightly.
“Heavens! What a close call, Dick. You’re lucky you’re alive.”
“Don’t I know it,” trembled Dick.
“That settles it,” the factor’s breath caught and he plunked down in a chair. “Tomorrow I’m going to send word to the police.”
“No, I wish you wouldn’t.”
Mr. Scott started in surprise.
“Wish I wouldn’t! Why not? When murder is attempted I think it’s about time something was done about it. When the police come, they’ll find out who fired that bullet.”
“I already know who fired the bullet.”
“Who?” the factor’s voice snapped.
“Pierre Mekewai.”
“Are you sure?”
“Absolutely. I saw him.”
“Very well then, I’ll put him under arrest. But what—Good Heavens, what grudge has he against you?”
“It’s not his grudge. It’s Brennan’s and McCallum’s. We had some trouble down river. They’re trying to even the score, that’s all.”
“In that case we’ll have them all placed under arrest.”
“No, not yet, Mr. Scott. For certain reasons of my own I do not wish anything done about this for the time being, anyway. And as for the police, until we find we can’t cope with the situation ourselves, we won’t call them.”
“Dick, I think you’re mad.”
“No, not mad,” Dick smiled. “I’m merely carrying out, or I should say Sandy, Toma and I are carrying out certain investigations.”
“For whom?”
“The mounted police.”
Factor breathed an expansive sigh.
“Well all I hope is that everything will come out all right. I’d hate to have any of you boys get hurt.”
“For our own sakes, I hope so too,” grinned Sandy.
“But what’s at the bottom of this?” the factor commenced all over again. “You can’t make me believe that men will attempt murder because of some trivial grudge.”
“I’m not trying to,” retorted Dick. “We’re not sure what it’s all about ourselves. But we propose to find out.”
“Good for you!” applauded the factor.
Next morning, when Dick and Sandy awoke, there was another surprise in store for them. Bounding from his bed, the former was the first to make the discovery. He stood, staring in dismay. Across the room, Toma’s bunk had not been disturbed. Where was he? Overcome with sudden fear, he stepped forward, gasping.
“Sandy!” he shrieked, pointing. “Sandy!”
The young Scotchman became so weak at the thought of what might have happened, that he gave utterance to a little cry of dismay and sat down.
“It’s all our fault,” he moaned. “We shouldn’t have gone to bed until we had found out where he had gone. Something terrible has occurred or he’d have been back long before this.”
“I’m afraid so,” Dick was forced to admit.
“He knows we’d worry about him if he stayed out all night. He wouldn’t do it either unless he was hurt—or—or——” Sandy’s voice broke.
The boys commenced feverishly to tear into their clothes, and, in less than two minutes, they were bounding down the stairs into the trading room. Factor Scott looked up in surprise at their precipitous entrance.
“What’s wrong now?”
“Mr. Scott, have you seen Toma?”
The factor rubbed his chin. “Why, no, I haven’t. Didn’t he come in last night?”
The boys did not answer. Bolting to the door, they ran outside. They began searching everywhere. They made inquiries of every person they met. Organizing a search party, they scoured the woods in the vicinity of the post. That afternoon at three o’clock, beaten and discouraged, they returned to the trading room to see if by any chance Toma had returned during their absence. Factor Scott met them at the door.
Dick’s and Sandy’s dejected appearance told the story. The factor knew without asking that they had been unsuccessful. He endeavored to comfort them.
“We mustn’t worry,” he said, placing a kindly arm about the shoulders of the disconsolate pair. “I feel sure that Toma is safe. I really can’t make myself believe there has been foul play.”
“Wish I could think that,” Sandy’s eyes were tragic.
“Mr. Scott,” requested Dick, “may we see you alone for a few moments?”
“Why, yes. Certainly.”
Dick turned and dismissed the search party and he and Sandy followed the factor inside. They went directly to the little room at the back. Scott closed and locked the door.
“What is it, Dick?” he asked.
“Sandy and I have come to a decision. We’re going to have it out with Brennan, McCallum and the two Mekewai brothers. We’re convinced that those four men know where Toma is—wh—what has happened to him. They’re going to tell us or we’ll know the reason why.”
Aghast, the factor stood and stared at the two boys.
“What!” he exclaimed. “You’d go there? Why, they’ll kill you. You’re no match for them. Just pause to consider, Dick. Don’t be rash. There must be a better way than that.”
“If there is,” Dick’s tones struck coldly upon the ears of the older man, “I wish you’d tell me. If they haven’t already killed him, there’s a chance that Toma may be over at the Mekewai tepee.”
“You mean held prisoner?”
“Yes, there’s a faint chance. I haven’t much hope that we’ll find him. I believe that they murdered him, just as they tried to murder me last night.”
“If you’re determined to go,” suggested the factor, “can’t I send a few men along with you?”
“No, we’ll go alone. We don’t know whom we can absolutely trust. Thank you for your willingness to help. Come on, Sandy.”
As they walked back into the trading room, the younger boy, who was in the lead, stopped unexpectedly and gave vent to an ear-splitting screech:
“Toma!”
In the doorway swayed the young Indian. A livid scar streaked his forehead. His hat was gone and his hair was crusted with blood. He stood there, smiling feebly. In a moment two strong pair of arms encircled him and bore him triumphantly and joyously into the room. Sandy was sobbing like a child. Dick laughed half hysterically, his eyes filled with tears.
“I’ll bring some bandages,” shouted the factor.
Though Sandy and Dick were anxious to find out what had happened to Toma, they did not ask him a question until his head had been bandaged, food had been given him, and he had been made comfortable in a bed upstairs.
“Now tell us all about it if you feel strong enough, Toma,” said Dick, as he, Sandy and the factor bent over him.
“I tell you pretty quick,” the young Indian smiled up at them weakly. “Not very much I remember what happen. Last night I take ’em my rifle an’ walk away through the woods. Think mebbe I shoot partridge or two. By an’ by, I come to old mission trail, ’bout two miles from here. It very hot in the woods an’ I sit down on a log to rest. I sit there mebbe ten, mebbe twenty minutes. All at once I hear ’em sound like partridge make try fly through the brush. I look ’round when something hit me on the head, knock me off the log. Everything turn black. Not remember nothing after that. Stay there all night just like a dead man. When I wake up, sun shining. Feel sick, dizzy, when I try sit up. Want drink of water very bad. Tongue all swell so big that it hurt me if I close my mouth.”
“Ugh!” shuddered the factor. “Imagine that sort of agony out there all alone.”
“And he isn’t telling half of it.” As he spoke Sandy bent forward and brushed back a wisp of black hair that had fallen over the patient’s bandaged head.
“Then what did you do?” asked Dick.
“Well,” continued Toma, “I want water very much. I think ’em me ’bout little creek I cross night before. Long way off that creek. Part time I walk hold on trees, other time I crawl. I get tired an’ think no use. Too weak to get there. But after I lay still little while, I feel better. Then I go on some more. After very long time I come to creek. I very glad then. I crawl right over an’ lay down in water. I drink not too much at first, then after while some more. I began feel better. I stay mebbe one hour at the little creek then I come on here.”
“And that’s all you can tell?” gasped the factor.
“Yes, I say everything I know.”
“Did you see the man that struck you on the head?”
“No see ’em,” answered the young Indian.
“Where did you leave your gun?”
“Somebody take gun. Take money too. Everything gone when I wake up.”
“This isn’t a bullet wound on your head,” Dick told him. “It was made by some sharp instrument.”
“Knife,” guessed Toma. “Place where I thought I hear partridge only little way behind me—not more than fifteen feet. What I think happen, man creep up that far an’ throw ’em knife.”
“You’re probably right,” said Dick. “An Indian, not a white man attacked you. As a general thing a white man doesn’t know much about knife throwing. No doubt, it was one of the Mekewai brothers.”
Toma nodded his head slightly, lying there on the pillow.
“I think mebbe Mekewai too.”
“What induced you to go hunting at that hour?” inquired Sandy reproachfully. “Was that your real reason for going off alone?”
The Indian flushed. “That only one reason,” he admitted.
“What were some of the others?” Dick smiled. Toma hesitated, looking at the factor. Mr. Scott interpreted that look.
“If you like, I’ll withdraw,” he announced cheerily.
“No, Mr. Scott, stay right where you are. You might as well hear the rest of the story. Toma, you can trust Mr. Scott implicitly. Now what was another reason?”
“I know,” interrupted Sandy eagerly. “He was out trying to find the place where the Mekewai brothers hid those sacks. Come now, confess. Isn’t that what you were doing?”
To the surprise of everyone, Toma shook his head.
“No,” he said emphatically; “I not go look that time. One other time I go look everywhere an’ try find. But last night I have something else make me go. I think mebbe I find the factor.”
“Who, me?” almost shrieked Scott.
“No, Mr. Frazer, the factor Sandy’s uncle send away.”
Scott laughed uproariously. “Good gracious, my boy! What a queer fancy. Frazer! Why he’s miles away.”
There was one thing Toma did not like and that was to be ridiculed. His eyes darkened angrily. A slow flush mounted to his cheeks. He appealed to his two friends.
“Dick, Sandy—I tell you that not so crazy like you think. Factor Frazer come here two nights ago.”
“I can’t believe it——” began Dick.
“Wait a minute! Wait a minute!” cried Sandy excitedly. “Toma wouldn’t make that statement if he didn’t have a good reason for doing so. Hold on there, you two fellows! Not so fast! Give him time to explain. Toma, if they won’t believe you, I will. What makes you so sure Donald Frazer was here two nights ago?”
“Old Indian he tell ’em me he see Frazer go past his tepee with Wolf Brennan an’ Toby McCallum. Him very good Indian an’ I don’t think he tell lie. Him Indian fellow that live next to last tepee south of the boat landing. I talk with him yesterday when he tell me that. He say nearly everybody know now Frazer stay in little cabin not far away in the woods—some place near mission trail. That’s why I go that way.”
“Donald Frazer’s presence here can mean only one thing,” decided the factor. “He is planning revenge for being dismissed from the service. By nature a revengeful man, he’ll retaliate in every way that he can. We must be ready for him.”
“What do you think he’ll do? Personally, I can’t see that he can accomplish much—one man against as powerful a company as the Hudson’s Bay.” As Sandy spoke, he reached for a chair, which he pulled toward the factor. “Sit down, Mr. Scott. And please tell us what you think Frazer will do. Seems to me he’s wasting time.”
The factor thanked Sandy and slipped into the chair. For a moment the room was quiet. Toma put out his hand weakly and tugged at the blankets that had been tucked in around him. It was still uncomfortably warm upstairs, almost as hot as it had been on the day before when Dick had been fired upon.
Mr. Scott cleared his throat. “Every factor has his following,” he commenced. “Frazer has been here eight years and has made many friends, of course. These friends will sympathize with him now that he has lost his position and will be ready to believe that he has been treated unjustly. It will divert trade to independent companies. He may be able to influence many of our best customers against us. Not only that, if he has no scruples about employing more criminal methods—and I don’t think he has—he can tamper with incoming shipments of merchandise and outgoing shipments of fur. He can do incalculable damage in so many different ways that I can’t begin to enumerate or even think of all of them.”
“We must be on our guard incessantly,” Dick advised.
“Even if we are, I doubt if we’ll be able to stop him. The only sure way would be to have the police come over and take him into custody. When Corporal Rand gets back from his patrol, I’ll lay the matter before him.”
“I’m afraid it will be weeks before Corporal Rand returns,” said Dick, shaking his head.
“That’s unfortunate.”
“Yes, it is,” agreed the young man. “Sandy and I will do all we can, but I guess we’ll have more than our hands full fighting that crowd.”
“And they won’t fight fair,” lamented Sandy. “Cowardly tactics, unscrupulous methods—snakes in the grass all of them. Yesterday they almost killed Dick, and now they have wounded Toma. They won’t stop at anything. With all deference to your opinion, Mr. Scott, I do not believe that revenge is Frazer’s only motive. There is some other reason; something less devious, more deep and mysterious. Dick, we might as well tell Mr. Scott about that pit in the cellar.”
“What’s that!” the factor bounded from his chair.
Dick’s face changed color. He had not expected that Sandy would blurt out about that discovery.
“I should have told you,” he apologized. “I——”
“A pit in the cellar!” Scott gasped. “I don’t understand.”
“Under the floor,” explained Dick. “The planking is loose. A hole—quite a large hole there. Frazer evidently knew about it; probably had it dug. Those burlap sacks the Mekewai brothers brought up that night must have come from that hole; been hidden there.”
The factor mumbled incoherently, staring at the two young men opposite. He sank into his chair again, brought out a handkerchief and mopped his perspiring face.
“A pit, you say? Under the floor! Well, good gracious! How——”
“That isn’t all. You might as well hear the rest of it,” Dick interrupted, glaring at Sandy. “We have pretty good reasons to suspect that Frazer hired the Mekewai brothers to get those sacks. Frazer’s loot, we believe. Probably gold. Two other persons know all about the sacks, too—Wolf Brennan and Toby McCallum.”
“A conspiracy!” exploded the factor. “What else have you found out?”
“Nothing, except that we know the Mekewai brothers buried the loot somewhere.”
In great agitation, the factor filled and lit his pipe. He puffed for a moment in silence.
“I can begin to see where I’ve been duped, too,” he told them. “What you’ve just divulged helps to throw light on some of Frazer’s former actions. For one thing, it was never quite clear to me why he kept sending me away on such trivial errands. Twice during the month preceding his discharge, I was despatched to outlying districts ostensibly to drum up trade among the Indians. It seemed foolish to me at the time, but I had no choice in the matter. It didn’t make a bit of difference how busy we were, he’d always find some pretext to send me away.”