Two Indians came down the path toward the trading room, walking one behind the other. Both were sinister looking men, Dick thought. He wondered if they were intending to enter the store to make some purchase or whether the object of their visit was to appraise himself and his two chums. He bent his head toward Sandy and whispered in a low voice.
“Slip into the trading room and see what they do.”
The young Scotchman rose, stretched himself languidly, imitated a yawn and lounged through the open door. The two Indians followed him in. Dick winked at Toma, produced his hunting knife and began whittling on a stick. For five minutes they waited. At the end of that time the Indians came out, one of them carrying a package under his arm. Just outside the door, looking about them for a moment idly, they took a seat on the bench near Dick and Toma.
The action was wholly unexpected and Dick was taken unawares. Were the two Indians giving them a secret appraisal? Was there an ulterior motive behind this seemingly trivial act? To add to his surprise, one of the two men addressed him.
“You come up the river yesterday?” he asked.
“Yes,” answered Dick.
“River more high than last year,” said the Indian conversationally.
“I believe it is,” Dick nodded.
“You come back prospecting trip, eh?”
Dick shook his head. “No, we weren’t prospecting.”