“Why, that’s the name of the man that kidnaped you! You see, he turned up at the telegraph office in Yanceyville this morning and sent a funny message to your father. The telegraph man was suspicious, and as soon as he left, he put the sheriff on his trail. It turned out that this Riccio had a police record, and a bad one, too. He was arrested, and finally admitted that he’d caught you and that Indian Mink had you in his shack. He must have been a fool to try and get ransom money by telegraph. Well, perhaps a fat jail term will teach him a lesson.”
“Then—then——” Dirk was bewildered. It seemed as if all their troubles were ended. The half-breed dead or flown, his master in jail, and soon the Lenape trailers would again be united. “Then everything’s all right, and tomorrow we can go on to the top of Mount Kinnecut——” He stopped, for Ugly Brown could not conceal his amusement, and was laughing loudly.
“Say, Van, how do you get that way? You’re right on the top of Mount Kinnecut at this very minute!”
At the words. Brick Ryan stirred among his blankets and tried to sit up. “Mount Kinnecut?” he mumbled. “Gollies, that’s the place we got to find. Dirk will help me get there, won’t you, Dirk, my boy? Dirk’s the best guy that ever hit the trail, and I’ll lick the bird that says he’s not!”
Dirk Van Horn leaned over and patted his friend’s arm. “There, take it easy, Brick! We’re there, old chap—we’re right on the top of old Kinnecut, and you can go to sleep now.”
“Can’t go to sleep! Got to do somethin’—can’t climb, though, because I got a bum leg. You’ll do it, though, won’t you, Dirk?” He fumbled at his breast.
“Do what?” the fire warden asked gently. “What must he do? Listen, you come along with me now, and you’ll soon be stowed away in bed.”
“No, I won’t. Dirk’s got to do it first! And it’s right he should, too. He’s the best of all of us. I wanted to quit, but he fought along, game as a bull-pup, and carried me. I won’t move till I see him do it!”
“I think I know what he means,” said Dirk gently. “Shall I? I guess he won’t rest easy until it’s done.” He reached out and took the crumpled bit of cloth that Brick was clutching. “Ugly, where is the tree that has all the Lenape trailers’ flags nailed to it?”
“Why, it’s right up the trail about a hundred yards. A big old dead pine—you can’t miss it. I’ll go with you.”