When the boys were completely subdued and their arms tied behind them, Mistak came forward and searched them. He found nothing in Sandy’s and Toma’s clothing which seemed to interest him, but Dick’s shirt pocket disclosed the map, and filling the air with French and Eskimo curses, the outlaw saw the handiwork of the imprisoned policeman.
“So you sink to save him!” Mistak glared at Dick. “I get you in time, yes? Ha! By gar, you nevair meddle wiz Fred Mistak’s business more.”
Mistak’s evil intentions were only too evident, and Dick was about to give up hope, when Toma cocked his head to one side in a listening attitude. Dick knew the Indian youth had far keener hearing than the average person, and felt his hopes once more rising. Whatever Toma heard, it was of some favorable significance, for he looked squarely at Dick and solemnly winked one eye.
“How you like find zee lost policeman?” Mistak taunted, stepping squarely in front of Dick. “I take you zere—what you say? Ver’ fine, eh?”
“I have nothing to say to that,” Dick replied as sternly as possible, “but I do know we have friends near and that you will suffer for any harm that comes to us.”
“Ha! Ha!” Mistak laughed coarsely, turning to his companion. “Hear what zee puppy say? They have frien’ in Mistak’ country. Not ver’ near, eh? Ha! Ha!”
It was at the instant of Mistak’s triumph that a rifle shot rang out and one of Mistak’s men threw up his hands and fell silently to the ice. The half-breed Eskimo staggered back, his face paling, and his mouth twisted in a hideous smile.
Again the hidden rifle cracked, accompanied by another, whereupon Mistak’s men ducked and ran under the deadly bullets raining about them, leaving the boys where they had been captured.
“To zee pit!” the boys heard Mistak shriek to his men. “Kill zee policeman before zey come!”
Mistak and his men disappeared, and almost upon their heels leaped the two fur-clad forms of Corporal McCarthy and Constable Sloan.