It turned out that there were some pretty bad cuts and it was a wonder no fatal blows had been given for there could be little doubt that the aggressors shot and stabbed in a most reckless fashion. But evidently the factor’s luck held good and Jack did not feel as though there was much danger of a fatal ending to the affair, providing no blood poisoning set in.
He called for warm water and clean cotton, which, being provided, he started to cleanse the wounds and apply some healing salve. So confidently did he work that the quaint looking old trapper, Birdseye, watching everything with wonder, might have been seen to nod his shaggy mane approvingly as though in his private opinion the young fellow was some surgeon indeed.
As he thus worked Jack entered into conversation with the factor, having two good reasons for doing so. He wished to distract the attention of his patient from himself and also to extract as much information as possible covering the recent raid. A description of the miscreants was given and especially of their savage leader known as the Hawk because of his faculty for striking a swift blow in one place and being heard of in another in such a short time as to make people believe he could fly like the speedy bird of prey.
“As far as I could say,” Old Jimmy told him in answer to a question, “he’s along about thirty years old, a shortish sort o’ a man, quick as a flash in his movements and with eyes that bore in like a gimlet might. He’s had his nose broken at some time or other, which gives him a bit o’ a look like an eagle or a hawk. It may be he got his present name from that. But he’s a devil, I’m thinking and ready to do anything, law or no law when he smells rich booty in the game.”
Jack gave Perk a knowing look accompanied by a wink for that description, brief though it might be, coincided with what had been in the secret information sent by his chief at Washington—the broken nose stamped it as a positive thing that the man he wanted was close at hand, engaged in his same old line of business, that of a hold-up man, robber of banks and payroll bandit with a record for masterly exploits second to none.
So too with regard to the sudden surprise and attack—it seemed as though the marauders must have had accurate information as to when the trading post would prove to be a rich prize and also weakly defended.
“They had their plans a’ set, I am fain to believe,” the factor told him as though he had somehow figured this out during the time he lay there on his cot, “for ye ken it is only a few days now when the customary Spring clean-up o’ the posts come to pass so they would know we had rich pickings on hand. They lookit over the whole o’ the bales an’ picked out a’ the high-priced pelts like they might be connoiseurs in that line, for I recognised two former trappers in the gang—Squatty Bings an’ Welchy, as tough an’ hard drinkin’ lads as ever lived.”
“I’ve been told they left here just about three hours back—is that correct, Mr. McGregor?” asked Jack, wishing to make certain, for a great deal might depend on the question of elapsed time.
“I am no so sure, for I have not looked at my watch since being carried in the house,” the factor informed him, “but Birdseye here would know, for he and the others were being herded in a bunch and kept under several guns. That was after I had been so badly mauled and lay helpless on the ground outside. They were in no great hurry—took their time, feasted on a’ the food they could stow away—did a lot more up in bundles and wi’ the choice pelts as well as a stock o’ ammunition, finally pulled out, leaving the few men next to helpless since their guns had been carried awa’.”
Taken in all, with a little imagination thrown in for good measure, Jack could picture the stirring happening as the outlaws, having accomplished all they planned to do, pulled up stakes and with jeering shouts as well as waving their hats defiantly, left the scene of their daring foray.