“Pierre Mekewai.”
“Wolf put him up to it.”
“No question about that. Now that he’s got a little liquor into him, he’s commencing measures of retaliation.”
The door opened below and someone came bounding up the stairs. White-faced, Factor Scott bounded into the room.
“Did someone fire through the window just now?”
“Yes,” answered Dick.
“The devil!” exploded the factor. “As soon as I heard the report outside, I ran out to see if I could see anyone. Wonder what practical joker did that?”
“It wasn’t a practical joker,” stormed Sandy. “It was an assassin. He—he tried to kill Dick. Dick was standing in front of the window. The bullet went right through his shirt. Come here, Mr. Scott, and look at it.”
The factor, amazement written in his face, crossed the room as he was bidden. His eyes grew very wide and his lips compressed tightly.
“Heavens! What a close call, Dick. You’re lucky you’re alive.”