“If we had a rope,” said Dick, “we might grab him and tie him up.”
Toma’s face fell. “Why we talk ’bout that now? Mebbe all three follow me. It’s only chance I see to get canoe.”
“All right,” Dick suddenly came to a decision. “We’ll risk it. We’ve delayed long enough now. Get busy, Toma, and carry out your plan just as you’ve told it to us.”
The Indian’s sober features lighted into a broad smile. Swinging about without further preliminary, he broke into a dog-trot, then, twenty yards further down the shore, turned and began making his way up the steep embankment. The boys watched him for a while, whereupon they turned and looked at each other, their cheeks flushed with excitement. Dick reached over quickly and laid his right hand on Sandy’s shaking shoulder.
“We’re in for it now,” he said.
CHAPTER XI.
A CANOE AT LAST.
The first intimation Dick and Sandy had that Toma had arrived opposite the outlaws’ camp was when they saw Wolf Brennan spring to his feet, rifle in hand, and call sharply to his two friends. Immediately after that, a crackling in the brush, made by Toma, came to their ears.
“A moose!” shouted Wolf Brennan, pointing.
The other two, disturbed from their slumbers, scrambled to a place beside Brennan, their attitudes that of tense watching.
Breathless with excitement, Dick wondered if Toma’s ruse would work. The three men stood there immobile as three statues. The crackling noise up along the slope continued. Finally, when the boys had begun to believe that the outlaws were too clever for them, Wolf Brennan turned upon his two compatriots, growling: