A slight frown of perplexity appeared upon the factor’s thoughtful brow.
“What’s that, Meschel? You know who it is and won’t tell me? You’re afraid of the consequences?”
“I tell you,” whimpered Meschel, “but I am very much ’fraid. Pierre Mekewai—that’s the fellow I see.”
Mr. Scott swallowed heavily, commenced pacing back and forth. His face was touched with pallor. He stopped before Dick and Sandy.
“Frazer’s work! Now what do you suppose he was up to?”
The disclosure acted upon Dick like a cold shower. He stood with lips pressed, staring at the screen outside. Near him, Sandy clenched his fists convulsively.
“Mr. Scott,” asked Dick at length, “have you any way to bar the windows? It may be Frazer’s intention to burn down the post.”
“Not in broad daylight, surely. No, I think that more likely what they were after were the company’s books. Another thing, as Frazer knows, we often keep money in this room, valuable papers and accounts. It would be a serious loss to this post if we should lose them. All the records dealing with transactions with our fur customers are here. However, your suggestion to bar the windows is a good one. I’ll send for the blacksmith at once.”
“From now on,” said Dick, “we’d better keep close watch day and night.”
The factor nodded. “Two night watchmen armed with rifles. You and Sandy can help me during the day.”