Dick Kent on Special Duty 9

Dick Kent on Special Duty 9

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