Corporal Rand whistled softly.
“It’s our chance. You’re a jewel, Dick! Information like this is what we’ve been looking for for months,” exulted the mounted policeman. “I happen to know where Settlement Mountain is. Thirty miles from here. Between Big Lake and the Settlement House River.”
The mounted policeman struck a match in order to consult his watch.
“It’s nearly one o’clock now,” he declared. “No sleep for me tonight. Your information has upset all my plans, Dick, and yours too. Just as soon as I think the coast is clear, I’m going to steal out, saddle my horse and ride over to see Sergeant Richardson.”
“What about our trip to the west coast?” Dick asked. “Wouldn’t it be foolish for us to go by way of the Yellowhead Pass now that there’s a chance to follow Murky’s pack-train and discover the much shorter route through Blind Man’s Pass?”
“Yes, it certainly would,” agreed the corporal. “That’s why I just said that your information has upset all our plans. We must make new ones right away to fit the circumstances. Also it will be necessary for us to move hurriedly and secretly. Instead of sending you south tomorrow morning—or this morning, to be exact—I’m going to ask the three of you to start as quickly as possible for the Big Lake country, which is almost due west of here. You’d better pick out three fast ponies and head straight for Wandley’s post—you know where that is?”
Dick had often heard of Wandley’s post, although he had never been there himself. Wandley was a free trader, well known in the North, having for many years conducted a thriving trade with the Indians. His store or trading post was situated a few miles south of Big Lake.
“Yes,” said Dick in answer to Rand’s question, “I know where it is. I met Wandley himself about a year ago. It’s about twenty-five miles over there, and you follow the Settlement House River trail.”
“Right!”
Rand stepped closer to Dick and spoke in an undertone: