CHAPTER VIII

CORPORAL RAND TAKES CHARGE

Sandy rubbed his eyes.

“I don’t know what to make of this. Frischette has the poke now. In a way I’m glad that he has. It’s better for us, Dick. I’d hate to have another encounter with those two prospectors. Wonder what Frischette will say to us when we return to the road-house.”

“Don’t worry,” said Dick, “we’ve seen the last of him. He won’t come back.”

“You mean he’ll leave everything?”

“Yes, that’s my opinion. I don’t know what the poke contains but it must be something of immense value. Just stop a moment to reason it all out, Sandy. First of all, the poke belonged to Dewberry. MacGregor tried to get it, but was thwarted in his purpose either by Frischette or Creel. Creel had it in his possession until those two prospectors came along and took it away from him. Now it’s in Frischette’s hands again. If he returns to the road-house, he’ll be afraid that we’ll get it away from him. After what happened tonight, he’ll take no chances. He’ll not even consider his partner, Creel. He has a fortune in his hands and will attempt to keep it.”

“What’s to be done now?” asked Sandy. “Do you think we ought to set out in pursuit of Frischette?”

For a time Dick stood undecided.

“No,” he answered, “we haven’t time. Tomorrow Corporal Rand will return to Fort Good Faith. He has asked us to meet him there. We’ll have to follow his instructions: Go back tonight.”

“But what about Creel? We can’t leave him here.”

“That’s right. Let me see,” Dick scratched his head in perplexity.

“Tell you what we do,” Toma suddenly broke forth. “One of us stay here look after Creel an’ other two go back to Fort Good Faith. If you like, I stay here myself while you, Sandy, you, Dick, go on see Corporal Rand. After while I get Fontaine an’ Le Sueur to help me. Soon they come back from Grassy Point Lake.”

“Your plan is a good one,” approved Dick. “It’s the best thing to do. If Sandy and I start at once—go over to the road-house and get our horses—we can reach Fort Good Faith shortly before the corporal arrives. What do you think, Sandy?”

“We ought to go, of course. The way things have turned out, we need someone to take charge and straighten out this tangle. Corporal Rand will know what to do. I expect his first move will be to set out in pursuit of Frischette. The sooner we get Rand back here the sooner he’ll be able to follow and overtake him. Yes, we’d better start at once.”

“All right, we’ll walk over and get the horses.”

Toma gave a little start of dismay.

“I jus’ happen think, Dick— By Gar— Make me feel like silly fool. What you think I do?”

“What did you do?” Dick asked kindly.

“Yesterday I turn ponies out to eat grass.”

“Hang the luck!” exploded Sandy. “That means we’ll have to walk. We might have to look around all night before we find ’em.”

“I very sorry,” began Toma. “I—”

Sandy cut him short.

“Forget it! I don’t blame you, Toma. It’s just a bit of bad luck, that’s all.”

“An’ you don’t feel mad at Toma?” inquired that young man plaintively.

“Certainly not,” Dick assured him. “Either Sandy or I might have made the same mistake. It’s all right. We’ll walk.”

Without even returning to the cabin to determine the extent of Creel’s injuries, they shook hands with the young Indian and quickly departed. Their hurried trek back to Fort Good Faith long remained in the boys’ memory. Dick struck out with Sandy at his heels, and hour after hour they pushed on without even a pause for rest.

Both were swaying on their feet from weariness as they entered the broad meadow, surrounding the fort, and came finally to the well known trading post.

Factor MacClaren looked up from his work as the two youths entered.

“Why, hello,” he exclaimed in surprise. Then: “Whatever has happened to you. You both look as if you’d been stuck in a swamp somewhere for the last day or two. I wish you could see yourselves.”

The boys looked down at their mud-spattered garments. Sandy’s eyes were bloodshot and his shoulders drooped. Dick’s face was scratched with brambles. He had lost his hat and his hair was rumpled and streaked with dirt. Each flopped into a chair and breathed a sigh of relief.

“We made record time from Frischette’s stopping-place,” Sandy announced finally.

Sandy’s uncle laughed. “I can well believe that from your appearance. Have you been travelling all night?”

“Yes,” answered Dick, “all night. By the way, is Corporal Rand here?”

Factor MacClaren nodded.

“Arrived last night. Got in sooner than he expected. He’s waiting for you. Went out to the stables just a few minutes ago.”

“Uncle Walter,” Sandy requested wearily, “I wonder if you’ll be kind enough to notify him that we are here.” He sprawled lower in his chair. “I’m so tired that I don’t think I could walk out there. Also, while you’re at it, I wish you’d tell Naida, the cook, to prepare a good breakfast for two hungry men.”

“Men!” grinned the factor.

“Yes, men. At least, we’re doing men’s work.”

Chuckling to himself, Sandy’s uncle departed upon his errand. Not long afterward Corporal Rand himself appeared in the doorway and came eagerly toward them.

“Well! Well!” he exclaimed. “So you’re back. What luck did you have?”

“Great!” replied Dick, too weary to rise. “If you’ll sit down for a moment, corporal, we’ll tell you everything.”

When Dick and Sandy had completed their narrative, Corporal Rand sat for a long time in thought. His fingers drummed on the table.

“You’ve done much better than I expected,” he complimented them. “And to be perfectly frank, I don’t know what to think of it all. Those two men you spoke of, who attacked Creel and secured the poke, I can’t recall that I’ve ever seen them. However, your description tallies with that of two prospectors I met one time at Fort MacMurray. But that’s hundreds of miles from here. It hardly seems likely that it would be the same pair. But that is neither here nor there. You boys have practically established Frischette’s guilt. If he didn’t actually take the poke from Dewberry himself, he must have induced Creel to do it. Probably when I have seen and talked with Creel I can force the truth from him.”

“Will you place Creel under arrest?” asked Sandy.

“Not unless I can get him to confess. As yet we can prove nothing against him.”

Naida appeared at this juncture to announce that breakfast was ready, and Corporal Rand accompanied the two boys to the dining room. Dick and Sandy applied themselves with such diligence to the feast before them, that Rand refrained from asking any more questions just then. When the boys had pushed back their chairs, sighing contentedly, Rand took up the subject anew.

“I’m glad you came when you did. I’m anxious to go out on the trail after Frischette. Just now Frischette holds the key to the riddle. If we can catch him, I think our troubles will be at an end.”

Dick looked across at the policeman.

“Your suggestion, then, is to return immediately to the road-house?”

“If you boys are not too tired, I’d like to start at once.”

“Now that we’ve had something to eat, I’m ready to go,” said Sandy. “I feel a lot different than I did when we arrived here a short time ago.”

With one accord the three rose to their feet, and not long afterward secured their horses and departed. Following a hard but uneventful ride, they reached the scene of the events of the night previous. They met Toma just outside the door of the road-house. He greeted them with a cheery smile, striding forward to shake hands with Corporal Rand.

“Glad you come so soon, corporal. I get ’em Creel over here last night. Him pretty near all right now.”

“Did Frischette come back?” asked Sandy.

The young Indian shook his head.

“He no come. Creel no think he come either.”

They found Creel a few moments later, sitting, with bandaged head, in a chair near an open window. At sight of the mounted policeman his eyes dilated perceptibly. Yet otherwise he showed little of the emotion and fear the boys had expected.

But if Rand had hoped to secure information of value from the old recluse, he was disappointed. When questioned about the events of the night before, his answers were evasive. He knew nothing about the poke. He had seen no poke. The money-box, slightly battered, which Toma brought forth as evidence, belonged to him, he admitted. Why the thieves had not taken the box, Creel could not understand. It contained upward of five thousand dollars in currency.

“If this box and money belongs to you,” Rand demanded, “what was Frischette doing with them? The boys say that Frischette had this box in his possession here only two days ago. What was he doing with it?”

Creel met the policeman’s eyes unflinchingly.

“The boys must be mistaken,” he wagged his head. “The box is mine. Until last night no one has seen it. People call me a miser. Those men, who came last night, were disappointed because they expected to find more.”

Rand scowled. He saw the uselessness of further questioning. Though Creel might be aware of Frischette’s treachery, it was evident that he had no intention of attempting to obtain revenge upon him. To incriminate his confederate, would be to incriminate himself. Both would go to jail. Creel was wise enough to see that.

“Perhaps,” said Rand grimly, “you’ll have more to tell us when we bring your friend, Frischette, back and obtain possession of that poke. You could save yourself a lot of trouble by giving me a confession now.”

“I have nothing to confess,” Creel declared obdurately. “I do not understand Frischette’s disappearance. But even if you do find him and bring him back, you’ll learn nothing of value. Frischette is my friend and I know that he is not Dewberry’s murderer, that he is innocent of all wrong.”

The policeman rose to his feet, walked over and looked down at the old recluse.

“I didn’t say that Frischette murdered Dewberry. I’m convinced that MacGregor did that, just as much as I’m convinced that either you or Frischette secured the money and poke that belonged to the murdered man.”

Thus openly accused, Creel shrank back. His hands trembled. Yet, in a moment, the weakness had passed. Again, unflinchingly, he met the gaze of the man opposite.

“You are mistaken,” he declared in a clear, steady voice. “You will find that you are mistaken. Events will bear me out.”

Rand suddenly drew back. Footsteps sounded outside. Voices, scarcely distinguishable, floated to their ears. More scuffling of feet, and then the door opened. Dick, Sandy and Toma darted to their feet, staring wildly at the two newcomers:

Creel’s assailants of the night before!