There was less smoke drifting in through the door now, an indication that the fire at the warehouse might be under control. But it would be some time before Scott, Meschel and Sandy returned. No doubt, they and others had taken a good deal of the fur from the warehouse to a safe distance outside. Dick was very anxious to know how the fight with the fire was progressing. Yet, he feared to leave the trading room, even for a moment, while the wounded Indian and gold were still there. Indeed, Dick half expected that Frazer would return with the second Mekewai brother and probably Wolf Brennan and Toby McCallum. In such an event, Toma would be no match for them. By the same token, it was doubtful whether the combined efforts of himself and Toma would be sufficient to repulse them.
“You better go quick,” insisted Toma.
Dick turned beseeching eyes toward his valiant comrade.
“Toma, I can’t do it. I’m afraid. The minute I go through that door, they’ll be down upon you like a pack of wolves. Four against one—what chance would you have?”
Toma had started to protest, when Dick caught sight of an ominous glint of metal less than a hundred yards away. Without further adieu, he sprang forward and slammed the door, bolted and locked it. Then from the front window, he and Toma looked out toward the place where the former had seen the stealthy movement.
“Over behind that brush! Look!”
The young Indian drew in his breath sharply.
“I see ’em three men, Wolf, McCallum an’ Frazer.”
Alert, Dick stepped back. “Look out, Toma,” he jerked. “They may fire. What do you say we route them out of there? They don’t know yet that we’ve seen them. If you’ll stand guard here, I’ll run up to the loft and fetch our rifles.”
When Dick returned, Toma was still standing there.