“Through Hart and O’Connell, I suppose,” Dick put in. “They take it to civilization and sell it.”
“No. You’re a thousand miles from the mark. Hart and O’Connell play a less important part in this scheme. Murky is more clever than that. He disposes of his own stuff in a more original and unheard-of way. Hart and O’Connell merely supply him with means of transportation—pack horses in summer and dog teams in winter.”
Corporal Rand paused again and rose to his feet. He tiptoed softly to the door, opened it and looked out.
“I thought there might be someone in the hallway,” he apologised. “One can’t be too careful.”
He closed the door, a slight frown on his face, and went back to the chair opposite Dick.
“I guess we won’t be bothered. Where was I—oh, yes—As I just said Hart and O’Connell supply Nichols with ponies or dog teams, depending upon the season, and Murky proceeds to transport his stolen fur to the coast.”
“To the coast!” gasped Dick. “How could he?”
“Through Blind Man’s Pass.”
Dick sat and stared incredulously at the grave, serious face of the man opposite.
“You’re fooling me, corporal.”