“Watch him,” he instructed, “while I look after Dick’s arm.”
The policeman worked hurriedly and in a manner that left no doubt in the minds of his onlookers that he knew his business. He had just stepped back to relieve Sandy when, through the screen of trees ahead, two figures hove into view. Perceiving them, Dick exclaimed softly under his breath.
“Bless, me, if he didn’t come along after all,” gasped Corporal Rand. “The rascal!”
Hands clawing the air, Pierre Mekewai, savage and vindictive-looking even in defeat, marched toward them. Ten paces behind, equally savage and vindictive-looking, came the Indian’s captor—a young man with a bandage wound around his head!
“By cripes!” Sandy broke the stillness. “By Golly, it’s the first time that Toma ever disobeyed an order.”
Corporal Rand tried to look severe, bit his lips, then presently threw back his head and laughed.
CHAPTER XXV.
GATHERING UP THE THREADS.
In the cabin, recently occupied by Donald Frazer, they found the poke. It was the mate to the one Dick had picked up off the floor of the trading room at Half Way House earlier in the day. Frazer’s face fell when Corporal Rand pulled it out of the pack lying in the corner.
“Gold—sure enough!” the policeman’s eyes sparkled. “You made a big haul from somewhere, didn’t you, Frazer?”
The prisoner ignored the thrust.