He could hear voices now and the hurried trampling of feet. Once a husky howled. From the open door of another building—evidently a stable—there flickered the light of several lanterns. The stable, about fifty yards on the north side of the house, was the center of unusual activity. Here men called to each other in guttural Cree amid the confusion of barking dogs and the nickering of ponies. Back and forth between the stable and the cabin the outlaws continually hurried. Dick knew what it all meant. La Qua was preparing for his departure, to take with him the cache of stolen fur.
As he stood watching and waiting, a daring plan leaped into his mind. His breath caught at the very thought of it—to walk boldly up and mingle with the outlaws. They, in the general excitement and confusion, would probably let him pass unnoticed. As long as he kept away from the tell-tale lights of the lanterns or the lamps in the cabin, he would probably be safe enough.
At any rate, he decided to do it. Thoughts of Sergeant Richardson spurred him on. No effort or sacrifice would be too great. It was little enough to do for the man who had befriended him on so many previous occasions.
He walked boldly forth, swung in behind a tall figure hurrying toward the stable. Half way there, he stopped, glancing furtively about. He tip-toed over to the window on the side of the cabin opposite the door and looked within.
For a moment his breath caught. He was both startled and amazed at what he saw. The room, near the far end, was stacked with bales of fur reaching to a height of nearly five feet. Thousands of dollars were represented here. Wonderful black and cross-fox pelts! Rich-looking, unplucked beaver! Lynx, marten, mink—even the glistening coat of bruin himself, the least valuable of all. There were furs so valuable, so precious, that a single bale would have been more than sufficient to purchase a king’s ransom.
A steady file of men entered and departed. Each carried away a heavy burden. Standing over them, La Qua threatened and gesticulated fearful lest a moment might be wasted. It was evident that the outlaw was thoroughly frightened and intended to rush through the work as quickly as possible.
Dick’s gaze turned from the cache to the opposite end of the room in the hope that he might see Sergeant Richardson. But, although he craned his neck in the effort, he could discern nothing. He had decided to slip around to another side of the dwelling, when the sound of footsteps came from the darkness beyond. Instinctively, he flattened himself against the wall of the cabin. The steps came closer. A vague form! A start of surprise—Rand!
The policeman did not see him at once, but Dick drew his attention by whistling softly and very soon the two stood close together gripping each other’s hands.
“Lucky you’ve come,” whispered Dick. “Just take a peep inside.”
“I don’t believe that Richardson’s here,” said Corporal Rand when he had stepped back. “As I came out to the clearing, I thought I saw two of the outlaws carrying something between them. Possibly the sergeant. I had no way of stealing up on them without being detected. So I decided to come on here and await their arrival.”