“Go right ahead, mister,” said Pod.
CHAPTER XXI—THE LITTLE GRAY MAN.
Old Joe was fairly stumped. So were the boys. The little gray man was sick, feeble and apologetic, and yet they knew that he had stolen those furs and he must be made to give them up.
“Guess we’ll leave this thing to Joe,” whispered Jack to Tom.
“The only thing to do. I don’t like this at all. I’d almost rather he’d put up a fight.”
“Say, there’s no more wood by that stove,” said Jack; “guess he was too sick to cut any more. We’d better go and get some ourselves. What do you say?”
“All right. Let Joe do the talking. I’d feel like a ruffian myself to cross-question a sick man, even if he is a thief.”
The two boys drew Joe aside. Then they left the tent. As they went, their talk ran upon the strangeness of the twist of circumstances that had made them become ministers to the comfort of a man who had wronged them and led them a long, hard chase through the frozen lands to recover their own.
As they chopped wood, they stopped every now and then and looked at each other.
“This beats our experience with the two crazy miners,” said Tom, during one of these pauses.