“Oh yes, I can. Not very difficult either. The proof is less than a hundred yards away.”
Donald Frazer went deathly pale.
“What’s that—hundred yards—you, you—do you know what you’re talking about?”
“Yes,” grimly smiled the policeman. “I do. If you don’t believe me, we’ll go there together and dig it up.”
Frazer staggered back as if from a blow. Every vestige of color drained from his cheeks. In terror his hands went up clutching his throat.
“You—you know!” The sound that issued from his lips was a low breath of agony.
“Yes, I know. A horrible crime! You, Brennan, McCallum and the two Indians will have to answer for it, Frazer. Bit by bit, these boys here have unearthed the evidence that will hang you as assuredly as I’m standing here. Miller’s murder will not go unavenged.”
Frazer crumpled like a leaf and would have fallen had not Sandy caught him. Dick whirled upon the mounted policeman at the mention of the missing prospector’s name, for a full minute not able to speak. He, too, was trembling violently over the very unexpectedness of the revelation.
“Miller!” he cried, when he had found his voice. “The man from Caribou Lake! How do you know that?”
“By putting two and two together, Dick,” Corporal Rand answered unhesitatingly. “To you boys belong most of the credit. The evidence I had was inconsequential until it was added to what you had unearthed yourselves.”