"Sure Mike! An' I proceeds to dry them tears the Queen's sheddin' by informin' her that the kid's within a few miles of her right now."
"What? You mean he's——"
"Yep. They got him prisoner back here at the lumber camp. He was one o' the three what Weiler met at North Bay an' it didn't take me long to tumble to the way they was watchin' him close. I slips him a note las' night that friends was near an' to be on the lookout f'r us. We're goin' to rescue the kid, see. He'll be our star witness."
"Well, what next!" gasped the astonished Kendrick. He stared at the detective. "You're not joking? If so, your levity is decidedly ill-timed."
"Yeah," agreed McCorquodale doubtfully. "Uh-hunh. On'y I don't happen to be wavin' no wand an' floatin' horizontal in the air, see. I'm handin' it to you straight up an' down. Stiles is there an' we gotta get him away from those guys. As f'r any jokin'——" He drew out his police automatic and patted it significantly. "This gun cracks ten jokes without stoppin', see, if there's any funny work goin' on."
Phil's surprise at the turn events were taking was only equalled by the excitement with which Cristy Lawson received the news when presently she was called outside and introduced to the C.L.S. detective. She listened eagerly, interjecting a rapid question now and then as if her mind were racing beyond the facts of the recital to a logical solution of the mystery not apparent to the others. She nodded her head once or twice and laughed a little. When McCorquodale had recounted everything that he had observed she was silent for a moment, head bent in thought.
"How soon are you going back to the camp?" she asked at last.
"As soon as Mrs. Thorlakson will give us something to eat," replied
Phil.
"Good. I'm ready."
"But—You don't understand," objected Phil. "We can't take you along,
Miss Lawson. It wouldn't be——"