“And now,” suddenly resumed Richardson, “we’ve come to the very serious part of this whole business. I must confess to you that I’m worried and—you may be surprised at this admission—afraid!”
“Afraid!” Dick gasped. “Why, corporal, I can’t believe that anything would ever frighten you.”
“Something has,” confessed Richardson, “and right now I’m frightened so badly that I’m almost inclined to tell you to take off that uniform and go and hunt up your friend, Sandy, for a game of cards.”
Dick started to laugh, but a second look at the brooding, troubled eyes of the man opposite, choked his untimely mirth.
“This is a serious moment for you, my boy, and I’ll tell you why. The message received last night was sent to me for a purpose. For reasons, as yet not quite clear to us, my presence at Fort Good Faith constitutes a hindrance to certain plans of Henderson. Henderson wants me to clear out—to go away. Why?”
“I’m sure I can’t answer that question,” said Dick.
“Neither can I; but I’ve a pretty fair hunch. Fort Good Faith is on the only direct, open, well-travelled trail, leading south to civilization. Henderson, let us say, has a valuable shipment of stolen fur. He wants to dispose of it. He’s in a hurry to get it south before the spring thaw. Every day that he is forced to wait, is time and money lost. He’s anxious to start right away, sending out his fur by dog teams, but he can’t do that because I’m here at Fort Good Faith and will be sure to seize his shipment.”
“Whew!” whistled Dick. “How did you ever contrive to figure that all out? It sounds very plausible.”
“Nevertheless,” said Corporal Richardson, “it’s entirely supposition and may be absolutely wrong. I’m hoping that it’s right, because if it isn’t, the only other motive that I can think of for inducing me to go to Run River is a very sinister one.”
“What is it?” asked Dick.