“What I can’t understand,” Sandy broke forth, “—what I can’t understand, Dick, is why he should take the sledge with the mail. There isn’t a single thing on that sledge that would be of the least value to him.”
“Of course, he didn’t know that,” Brady spoke up. “To his simple ignorant mind, those pouches of mail must have contained something of immense value. He’ll be a very sorry, disgusted and probably repentant Indian when he discovers his mistake.”
“He’ll be a repentant Indian when I get my hands on him,” stormed Dick, jumping to his feet and pulling his parka in place. “Well, I might just as well go after him.”
“He has about three hours start of you,” said Dr. Brady. “The only time he could have left this party was between four and five o’clock, when he was awakened to take his turn in replenishing the fires.”
“I’ll unload one of the sledges and take the swiftest team we have,” decided Dick. “Travelling light, I ought to be able to overtake him.”
“Can I go with you, Dick?” Sandy asked eagerly.
“I’d like to have you, Sandy, but Toma is better on the trail. I must hurry. Every minute counts. Dr. Brady, will you help Sandy pick out and harness a team, while Toma and I unload a sledge? We’ll take our rifles and a few days’ provisions.”
In less than twenty minutes, they were ready. The dogs strained at their harness, eager to start. Toma took his place in the front of the sledge, Dick behind. A whip cracked. The voices of Dr. Brady and Sandy called out an encouraging farewell.
The huskies leaped forward.