Pearly rubbed his chin thoughtfully.
“It’s only a few miles from here to our destination. You’ll have plenty of time to rest and get something to eat before we start.”
Sandy greeted this declaration with an exclamation of approval. The boys were ravenously hungry and so stiff and sore that they could scarcely walk. Loss of sleep and the hard ride from Fort Good Faith had worn Dick’s endurance to a shred. He was nearly tottering as he reached out for the bridle-reins of his pony and led the fagged and foot-sore little beast through the open door of the stable.
A few minutes later, having cared for their tired mounts, they accompanied Constable Pearly to Wandley’s trading room. Just outside the door, Dick, happening to glance through the window, drew back suddenly with a cry of surprise. Seated at one of the tables was the burly figure of La Qua, and immediately opposite, their heads bent forward in discussion, were the two half-breeds who had played such a conspicuous part in the affairs of the previous day. Dick seized Pearly’s arm, just as the latter reached for the latch-string.
“We can’t go in there, constable,” he declared excitedly, his voice hoarse and tremulous. “Quick! Let’s get away from here. If we step inside, it’ll spoil everything.”
In spite of Sandy’s remonstrances and the policeman’s puzzled and questioning look, Dick hurriedly led the way back to the compound before he could be induced to offer a single word of explanation.
“It’s La Qua,” he broke forth eagerly, “the man who will be in charge of the pack-train Murky is sending over to Blind Man’s Pass tonight. He was sitting in there at one of the tables. He’s already suspicious of me, and it would never do to meet him again now.”
“Are you sure it’s La Qua?” Pearly wished to know.
Dick nodded his head emphatically.
“Yes, I am sure. He was over at Good Faith yesterday—in fact, until one o’clock this morning—consulting with Murky Nichols. One of the two men with him is the half-breed Corporal Rand arrested for attempting to stab Nichols.”