Meade whistled. “Why not?”
Stammering out something, Sandy looked at Dick. His chum returned the gaze, then stared straight into the eyes of the pleasant-faced free trader.
“Well, I guess it won’t do any harm to tell you. Those two men, who stopped here last night, are in some way implicated in the Dewberry case. Corporal Rand went out with them yesterday to the place where Frischette was found. They were under police surveillance. Apparently, they have escaped. Those two ponies that they were riding belong to us. We had met Burnnel and Emery before and thought there might be trouble if they saw us. So we left.”
“And it was a good thing we did,” Sandy cut in. “As it was, they followed us, shortly after their arrival here, and came upon us unexpectedly. They took our revolvers and all the money we had. Toma escaped. Then they came back here.”
“And you’ve been out there in the woods all night?” Meade inquired softly.
“Yes, we have, Mr. Meade,” replied Dick, “and we’re mighty tired and hungry.”
CHAPTER XVII
A POLICEMAN’S HORSE
Toma had never seen Corporal Rand in a rage before. The corporal’s face was flushed with anger and his expressive blue eyes snapped. As yet the young Indian had received no explanation of how the policeman and his two friends had been made prisoners. He had been too busy to question them. Besides they had been in no condition to talk. The first intelligible word from any of them had been:
“Water!”
None of the three could stand. Locked in that hot stifling room, their suffering had been terrible. For more than an hour Toma had administered to them, chafing their limbs, bringing them water, making them more comfortable. After that, he had been compelled to hurry back to the kitchen to prepare a meal for them. Cared for in this fashion, their recovery had been rapid. Soon all, except Le Sueur, were able to stand and to limp about the room.