“I tell you, Dick,” Sandy went on, “you can’t imagine how much the corporal likes you. He seemed worried stiff for fear that something might happen to you. Finally, after we had bothered him a lot, he gave us permission to go out and try to find you.”
“You found me all right,” Dick was forced to admit, “but I don’t see how you ever managed to do it.”
“It was easy enough—for Toma. He found your tracks where you left the Run River trail and we followed them up to a house.”
“The house of La Lond,” said Dick.
“I don’t know whose house it was. It was almost dark when we got there. My plan was to walk right up, knock at the door and ask for you, but Toma thought differently.”
“Bad men him live there,” interrupted Toma, moving closer to the fire. “I know him Baptiste for bad fellow. Me see that man many times an’ no like at all. I ’fraid mebbe he kill you an’ hide body. So I listen at door. I find out something.”
“What did you find out?” asked Dick.
“Me find out you been there an’ go ’way again. Baptiste very mad an’ talk in loud voice. He say I kill him that fellow bye-’n’-bye. Drink much rum an’ shout all time. No have trouble to listen.”
Sandy started to speak but Dick motioned to him to be silent. He was anxious to learn what the young Indian had found out, and wanted to hear the story from the lips of Toma himself.
“Did he mention the name of Henderson at all?” he inquired.