“I’m going,” said Dick with quiet determination.
“I go too,” Toma echoed.
“Well, if you fellows are willing to risk it,” declared Sandy, not very enthusiastically, “you’d better include me in your party. Personally, I’m not very keen about going. I’ll have another talk with McTavish and——”
A knock sounded at the door.
“Come in!” Sandy shouted.
Factor MacClaren stood framed in the doorway.
“Thought I’d find you here. Dick,—someone to see you. A runner from Mackenzie River. It’s important. He’s waiting out in the trading room.”
Dick rose excitedly and streaked for the door. He pushed his way past the factor, hurried down the hallway and soon emerged in the spacious storeroom of the company. For a brief interval he paused, gaze darting through the crowd, then made his way unerringly to a tall young Indian, who stood waiting near the counter.
“I’m Dick Kent,” said that young man.
“By Gar, monsieur, I glad I find you here. Et ees veree important thees letter from Inspector Cameron. He told me to geeve et in your own hands.”