They entered the dark interior. The guard struck a match and lit the tiny taper that had been placed on the mantle above the fireplace.
In front of the fire, rolled in a blanket, which had been provided him, lay Dick’s former track-mate. Toma aroused him by shaking his shoulders none too gently, yanking him to an upright position. The man daubed at his eyes, looking sleepily about him.
“What is your name?” asked Dick in Cree.
“Tawanish.”
“All right, Tawanish, I’m about to release you. You can go back to your own people.”
“Dick, are you mad?” suddenly interposed Sandy. “Have you taken leave of your senses? Do you realize what you are saying? No, Dick, we will hold him here as a hostage. They have Dr. Brady and Father Bleriot. We have this man.”
Dick turned almost angrily upon his chum.
“Please, Sandy, don’t interfere. I know what I’m doing.”
He turned again to the Indian.
“Tawanish, I am sending you back to your own people. You can go free.”