“He met someone by the name of Miller,” replied the corporal, “but whether it was our man or not is a debatable question. Since then other stories have been circulated, most of them, I fear, without foundation. If it was really Conroy Miller that Karek met on the trail, he never reached his destination. That much I have found out by making inquiries at Fort Laird.”
The corporal paused abruptly, regarding the boys through half closed lids. Dick wondered what he was thinking about.
“How long since you left the dinosaur’s island?” the policeman suddenly inquired.
“Just two weeks ago today,” Sandy replied.
“You’ve had an unusual experience. Went hungry, didn’t you? Looks as if you’d been living on a diet of fish and no mistake. Honestly, Dick, I believe you’ve lost ten pounds.”
“I think I have,” came the unconcerned rejoinder.
“Wolf and McCallum will have to answer for this some day, but I don’t want to do anything now. We’ll give them plenty of rope and see if they won’t eventually hang themselves. Now about that pseudo-wildman you spoke of, I can’t seem to place him—unless it’s old Bill Willison, an eccentric trapper who used to live in the vicinity of Fort Laird.”
“That’s who it is!” Dick exclaimed. “I remember now. They called him Willison.”
“Too bad he’s fallen into their net. He’s not a vicious character and would harm no one if left alone. The old man is as rugged as the hills and they say as old as Methuselah. If he has joined Brennan’s party, it was under compulsion. Of that I feel sure. No doubt, the canoe you have belongs to him.”
“Does the old man wander around sometimes just dressed in furs and without any shoes or moccasins?”