“He’s on his back, Perk—got into ruction with them bushrangers an’ they tore him up somethin’ scandalous. Nuthin’ real dangerous, get me, but he sure needs the attention o’ a doc. I’m told they’s sech a man up to the fort name o’ Hamilton but we ain’t no way o’ gettin’ word to him in a hurry.”
“That’s okay, ol’ hoss,” said Perk quickly, “my boss here, Mister John Jacob Astorbilt is aimin’ to strike Fort Laney, hopin’ to get some big game shootin’ thereabouts. We c’n fetch the sawbones back with us if so be he’s still around.”
“Good boy, Perk,” said the old fur-trapper enthusiastically, “but come in an’ see the old man—he’ll be right glad to meet up with ye again—often talked ’bout ye when I kim back from my trap line in the Spring.”
Perk looked as happy as a schoolboy carrying home her books for the first time—showing that after all he was not quite so hard-boiled as he wished to appear and that a little flattery could bring the blushes to his well tanned weather-stained cheeks.
“Let’s go, partner,” he said motioning to Jack who had been listening to all this talk with increasing interest, since it had more or less to do with the lawless actions of the desperado whom he had been dispatched to bring back to the States so as to be returned to Leavenworth penitentiary, with considerably more time added to his original sentence.
The moment they entered the post they could easily see that something like an eruption must have occurred only recently. Everything was upset as though there had been a thorough search made for hidden treasure. Piles of dried pelts lay scattered around, the richer prizes having evidently been carried off.
The raiders had doubtless shown rare discrimination as though among their number were those who themselves had once been trappers and therefore knew all about the value of black fox pelts, sables and mink that bring such top-notch prices in the fur markets of St. Louis and other busy places in the country.
Birdseye Baker led them through all this mess straight over to the door communicating with the factor’s private room. This apartment also looked as if an earthquake of first dimensions had struck it and over on a cot against the further log wall they could see a man with a gray beard holding himself up on his elbow, having evidently heard strange voices and being filled with curiosity as well as wonder as to what all the fresh row was about.
“Hello there, Uncle Jimmy!” sang out Perk breezily as he pushed ahead with outstretched hand. “Ain’t quite forgot Gabe Perkiser, have you, ol’ top? Sorry to hear what’s happened to you an’ as me an’ my boss, Mister John Jacob Astorbilt here, mean to head for the fort right away, we aim to get thet medicine man back to look after you. It happens we got a cloud chasin’ airship waitin’ outside to carry us wherever we wanter go.”
The old Scotch factor looked as pleased as a man suffering from recent severe injuries might be expected to under the circumstances. He allowed the newcomer to squeeze his hand and even took Jack’s who fancied the other from the first—the stern honesty of the man from bonny Scotland was to be seen in his clear eye and undismayed look.