A little later, Sandy went over to the mission store to purchase a few supplies. Toma remained behind, his head bowed deep in thought. Silence had come to the room, broken only by the breathing of the boys and the crackling of the logs in the fireplace. After a time, Dick rose.
“I suppose we’d better be thinking about lunch.”
Of a sudden, Toma darted to his feet. He had sprung from his chair so quickly, that Dick, who was looking at him, could scarcely follow the lightning movement. Toma hugged himself in ecstacy. He seized Dick in a smothering embrace, whirling him around and around.
“Dick, listen me,” he shouted. “I know what we do now. I think it all out. It come to me in flash. Sandy no need go at all. Jus’ you, me go. We go this afternoon. Hurry—you follow me quick!”
Blindly Dick followed the other. He trotted down the street in the wake of his excited chum, wondering what it was all about. They hurried past the mission school, reaching, finally, a low dwelling, into which, without a moment’s hesitation, without even the preliminary of a knock, Toma darted.
It was the house which harbored Corporal Rand. Upon the afternoon of their arrival, the policeman had been placed here with an Indian woman in attendance. He was here now, sitting propped up in a chair in front of a pleasant fire.
“Good morning, corporal,” both boys greeted him.
The policeman turned his head. As he did so, the boys stopped abruptly. A remarkable change had taken place in him. His cheeks were fuller now. His eyes burned less brightly. The heavy beard-growth had been removed. He smiled a wan greeting.
“Dick and Toma, as I live! Where did you come from?”
“We have a billet down the street,” answered Dick.