A belated breakfast followed the swim. Greatly refreshed, both in mind and body, Dick and Sandy repaired to the shade of an ancient spruce to discuss the plans for the day. Toma, who had struck up a close friendship with the young Indian, had betaken himself to the village in an effort to gather the information that Sandy’s morbid curiosity seemed to require.
“We ought to go back to the mine as soon as possible,” said Dick. “I’m anxious to see how things are, and especially to find out about the moose-hide sacks. I doubt very much whether they’re still stored in the main shaft. The chances are that Henderson and his men attempted to take them with them when they were driven from the mine.”
“I hope we’ll be able to find them,” Sandy responded. “If they’re not buried under the charred remains of the cabin that must now be littering the main shaft, we may have to search the entire north side of the plateau.”
“Another reason why we ought to hasten back to the mine,” Dick pointed out, “is because your Uncle Walter and the mounted police are scheduled to arrive there in the next day or two.”
“But what makes you think that?” asked Sandy.
“Henderson himself said so. One of his Indian runners came in with the news the night before we were captured by the outlaws. That was the reason why Henderson was in such a hurry to strip the mine, as he called it, and make his ‘get-away’.”
Sandy nodded and lapsed into a short silence.
“You’re right, Dick. We ought to hurry back,” he finally broke forth. “If Uncle Walter and Corporal Richardson arrive at the mine during our absence, they’ll be terribly alarmed. Everything there is in an awful mess. The cabin’s burned. Here and there, they’ll come across signs of the Indian attack. They may possibly find a few dead bodies of the outlaws. You can guess what they’ll think has become of us.”
“Yes,” shuddered Dick, “I know what they’ll think. It wouldn’t occur to them that we’d been taken by the Indians.”
“Why not return today?” suggested Sandy.