Again sleep claimed him—this time deep and unbroken for several hours. He was startled into wakefulness by a loud banging at the door. A match flared through the darkness, footsteps sounded across the floor, the bolt was slid back to admit two muffled forms. The two newcomers, accompanied by the man who had bound Dick, strode over to the fireplace and piled on more fuel. In the ruddy glow that sprang up shortly afterward, Dick recognized them both—two more of the packers who had escaped from the warehouse.
For nearly an hour, the three jabbered unabatingly in Cree. Dick was able to understand a good deal of what was said. He followed their long, rambling discourse with increasing interest. Here was news indeed! A plot! The eavesdropper caught his breath, felt his pulses leap quickly.
They proposed on the following morning to set out for the warehouse to rescue Murky and the others. But it was more than a mere rescue. It was to be an ambuscade. From different directions they would creep up within rifle range of the policeman and, when the first opportunity presented itself, would riddle his body with bullets. Later on, they would shoot Toma. As soon as Murky had been released, they would recover the fur and travel south.
Then, with a start, Dick heard them mention him. He too would meet the same fate as the others—only much sooner. Was it not a tedious business to drag along a prisoner? Much more simple to dispatch him with a knife or bullet before starting. Anyway, it was no more serious an offense to kill three men than two. The punishment would be the same if they got caught. But that was unthinkable. They would escape easily this time. It would be very simple.
“Is not all this true, brothers?” inquired the chief conspirator.
There came guttural assent. Emphatic nods of confirmation.
“Is there anything to eat in the house of this doddering old spy?” one of the newcomers wished to know.
The answer came in the negative.
“Or drink?”
“There is nothing, my brother.”