“But what I don’t understand,” Dick spoke hesitatingly, “is why the outlaws haven’t arrived days ago. They were ahead of us when we started. Now we’re ahead of them. How do you explain it, corporal?”
“I can think of only one explanation. The boat from Seattle may not be due here for a week or two. In the interim, the outlaws are putting up somewhere along the trail, where there are better facilities for feeding the men and caring for the dogs and ponies. We must have passed them in the dark.”
“What will we do?” asked Dick. “Go back and try to find them or stay here?”
Rand made his decision promptly. “We might as well stay here. They’ll have to come sooner or later. All we can do now is to wait.”
Considerably cheered, the three walked out of the building and made their way over to the landing wharf. As they stood there, a disconcerting thought occurred to Dick.
“The outlaws will be sure to see our tracks around the warehouse when they come with the fur,” he pointed out.
“Don’t worry about that,” said Rand. “They don’t know yet that they’ve been followed by the police. I doubt if they have a single suspicion. However, when we go back, we’d better repair the damage to the lock and door.”
Standing there, Dick half-expected to see at any moment a vessel round the heavily wooded point and come steaming toward them. He thought about the boat from Seattle. Wouldn’t it be great sport if the ship would arrive ahead of its schedule? If this happened, would they drop anchor in the deep waters of the inlet and wait for the coming of the outlaws? What action would Rand take? Would he attempt to capture the vessel, or would he fall back out of sight to lay in concealment until the arrival of the pack-train?
The first light of oncoming dawn struck Dick’s eyes on the following morning when he peeped out from between his Hudson’s Bay blankets. It was really still too early to get up and it provoked him to find that he had awakened so soon. Neither Toma nor the corporal would be astir for another two hours. What had aroused him? He sat up impatiently, tucked the blankets around his feet. Then he heard a voice:
“What a fool I am. I must be suffering from a mental relapse. What is the matter with me? A blind bat! A nincompoop! Honestly, I need a guardian.”