“I’m with you, laddie so let’s get a move on. I kinder guess now I’ll jump out o’ this here lowdown fit in a hurry, once we get goin’.”
He already looked a hundred per cent more awake than he had been for several days and Jack chuckled as he led the way to the elevator, knowing how new life had been pumped into his chum’s veins by the receipt of the order to go.
Once seated in the room they shared in common, Jack took his secret code from its hiding place and set to work in earnest. Perk could see him writing down word after word and filling in vacant places. The minutes fairly dragged like lead to the impatient one and when Jack sat back, nodding his head as if wholly satisfied, the other again begged him to lift the lid and give him a peep-in.
“What’s the matter at Spokane? Some o’ them Bolshevik miners broke loose over in Idaho an’ threatenin’ to kick up general hell again like they’ve done so many times?”
“A rotten guess brother,” Jack told him. “Nobody said we were going to stop long at Spokane—just ordered to look up a certain party there who’d pass on a bunch of information he’s been collecting this long while back and so help us on our way.”
Perk beamed again, as though quite a load had been lifted from his chest.
“Sounds better to me, ol’ hoss,” he hastened to say. “An’ tell me, where do we go from Spokane?”
“Due north!” snapped Jack smilingly, “in the direction of an old stamping-ground of yours.”
“Across the border—into Canada, partner?” demanded Perk.
“Just where we’ll be aiming for and moreover, buddy seems to me I’ve even heard you speak of a fur-trading post known as Frazer’s, with a Scotchman as factor of the Hudson Bay Company, name of McGregor!”