Dick Kent on Special Duty 28

Dick Kent on Special Duty 28

“Very well, corporal.”

 

“What was in the poke the evening Emery and Burnnel came to your cabin?”

 

Creel’s laugh sounded like the cackle of a madman.

 

“A rusty nail and a piece of broken string, taken from an old alarm

clock. That’s what I call a clever piece of work. It was my idea.

Frischette didn’t know a thing about it. It fooled everybody. I buried

Dewberry’s keys in a hole I dug in the cellar. When I got the chance, I

came back and dug them up. It was the same day that you went over to

investigate about Frischette. You thought he had committed suicide.”

 

“Well, wasn’t I right?”

 

“No.”

 

“If he didn’t commit suicide, what happened to him?”

 

“The squaw shot him—MacGregor’s wife.”

 

One might have thought that Rand had been shot himself. He jumped. It

was several moments before he fully recovered from his surprise.

 

“How do you know that MacGregor’s wife shot him?”

 

“She told me so herself.”

 

“When?”

 

“The night her and Emery and Burnnel took the keys away from me, that

night across the Hay River. Flew into a rage and spilled everything. I

guess she’d have shot me too, but Burnnel wouldn’t let her.”

 

“If what you say is true, how can you account for the note I found in

Frischette’s pocket?”

 

“She made Frischette write it before she shot him. Then she came back to

my cabin and searched everywhere for the keys. They were there, but she

couldn’t find them. My place looked like a wreck. After that she met

Burnnel and Emery who had come back to try to get the poke again. The

next morning she stayed out there in the woods while them two

prospectors went over to see you.”

 

“And did she stay in the woods until the afternoon of the next day?”

 

“That’s exactly what she did.”

 

Corporal Rand turned to Inspector Cameron.

 

“I guess that’s all, sir. I’d suggest that you verify the prisoner’s

last few statements by questioning Mrs. MacGregor herself and Burnnel

and Emery. However, I believe that they are true. Shall I take Carson

and Creel to their cells, sir?”

 

The commandant nodded absent-mindedly, waved one arm in a gesture of

dismissal. Dick started to file out with the others, when he heard

Cameron calling his name. Turning sharply upon his heel, he strode back

to the inspector’s desk and saluted.

 

“Dick, you young rascal,” began the mounted police official, “I’ve been

wanting to have a talk with you for a long time. You see, I have

received a letter concerning you and Toma. It came from the Commissioner

of the Canadian Royal North West Mounted at Ottawa.”

 

“I received a letter from him, too,” said Dick, “about a year ago. In

this letter he said that he had considered favorably my application to

join the mounted police, and that I should hold myself in readiness to

report at the barracks at Regina.”

 

“And you’ve heard nothing from him since?”

 

“Not a word, sir.”

 

“Didn’t you ever think that this was a little strange?”

 

“Well—er—” Dick flushed. “As a matter of fact, inspector, I’ve been so

busy—we’ve all been so busy—that I haven’t had much time to bother my

head about it.”

 

Inspector Cameron laughed and nudged Dick slyly.

 

“Would you care to hear a paragraph or two from the letter that _I_

received?”

 

“Yes, sir. That is, if you’d care to read it, sir.”

 

“I do wish to read it. Here it is.” Cameron picked up a typewritten

sheet on the desk in front of him. “Now prepare yourself for a shock.”

 

“Regarding your request,” read the commandant, “that Recruits Kent and

Toma should be retained at your detachment for special police service, I

wish to say that although such an arrangement is not usual and often not

advisable, we have decided to make a concession to you in this

particular case.”

 

“Great Scott!” exclaimed Dick.

 

“So you see it was my fault that you didn’t go to Regina. You boys are

too valuable to lose.”

 

Dick’s face beamed like the sun. He felt that some great force

underneath him had lifted him up and that now he was being whirled

around and around the room in a rose-tinted cloud. He couldn’t speak

because he was so happy.

 

“Don’t stand there looking like a ninny. Compose yourself, my boy.

Here’s your first month’s salary check. Here’s another one for Toma.

Came direct from the paymaster at Ottawa. I haven’t one for Sandy

because he didn’t put in his application. You tell him he’d better—if he

wants to work for me. And while you’re telling him that, you might slip

this bit of paper into his pocket with my compliments. Drawn from my own

personal account.”

 

Dick recalled afterward that he had thanked the inspector, but he never

could quite remember how he had gotten out of the room. He often

wondered if he hadn’t floated out in triumph and in regal state on that

rose-tinted cloud.

 

 

 

 

CHAPTER XXVI

DICK REJOINS HIS COMRADES

 

 

Three boys sat on the edge of a huge raft that drifted lazily over the

clear, cool surface of Whitefish Lake, near Fort Good Faith. It was a

hot day in late summer. Heat waves danced across the water. There wasn’t

a speck of a cloud anywhere in sight. Neither was there another craft on

the lake. With the exception of the three young sportsmen, no person

might have been found within a radius of ten miles, which was fortunate,

else it might have been discovered that not one of the trio wore any

clothes. Naked as on the day they were born, they sat and dangled their

feet in the water. “Mr. MacClaren told me that you were here,” Dick was

saying. “I stopped just long enough to have something to eat, then I

came right over. I was so anxious to tell you how everything came out.”

 

“How long did you remain at detachment headquarters?” asked Sandy.

 

“Four days,” replied Dick. “It was longer than I should have stayed, but

I was anxious to learn what they were intending to do with young Carson.

Inspector Cameron gave his case a special hearing the day before I left.

You can imagine how pleased I was at the outcome.”

 

“What was the outcome? Let him off with a light sentence, I suppose.”

 

“You couldn’t guess. He’s out on probation. Inspector Cameron would have

sent him to Edmonton for trial, along with the rest of them, if it

hadn’t been for Corporal Rand. During the hearing Rand proved to

everybody’s satisfaction that Reynold hasn’t full control of his mental

powers—in a way almost an idiot. He doesn’t fully realize yet what he’s

done.”

 

“So they sent him home,” said Sandy.

 

“I took him home.”

 

“Great Scott! How did that happen?”

 

“Inspector Cameron asked me to,” answered Dick. “I couldn’t very well

refuse, could I? I didn’t really want to go—but I’m glad now. Sandy—if

you could have seen Mr. and Mrs. Carson’s faces when we walked through

the door, you’d have felt repaid a million times.”

 

“I can believe that. What did they say?”

 

“I can’t remember all they said. At a time like that, things people say

don’t count. It’s what they do and how they feel that really matters. I

can’t explain exactly what I mean. But if you’d been there, you’d

understand.”

 

“I think I understand now, Dick,” said Sandy softly.

 

“That experience will make a man of him. He’s changed already. And the

girl, too. It was a lesson for both of them.”

 

Toma dropped off the raft a moment later, during a lull in the

conversation, and swam in widening circles around them. For a short time

the two boys watched him, then suddenly, with a little start, Dick

seized his trousers and plunged one hand in a pocket.

 

“There! I’d almost forgotten. Here’s a check for both of you from

Inspector Cameron. Toma,” he called, “come back!”

 

Toma swam back to the raft, and then Dick told them of his interview

with the commandant, not forgetting to mention the letter that had been

read to him.

 

“Wish I’d put in my application too,” sighed Sandy.

 

“It isn’t too late yet. Inspector Cameron told me to tell you.”

 

“I’ll write one out this very day,” decided Sandy.

 

Toma regarded his check thoughtfully.

 

“How I spend all this money?” he wanted to know.

 

“A new saddle,” suggested Dick.

 

“Got ’em good one now.”

 

“A rifle then.”

 

“Plenty rifle.”

 

“Tell you what,” impishly advised Sandy, “tell you what, Toma, you can

save your money and later on purchase a Chinese chest.”

 

“One that dates back to the Ming dynasty,” Dick elaborated.

 

“Ugh!” said the young Indian.