“Yes, I remember.”
“I—I called you some names, Dick. I’m sorry about that. I guess I was a bit angry and overbearing. You’ll overlook it, won’t you?”
Dick took his chum’s hand and gripped it firmly.
“Why—I’d forgotten about it. Anyway, it’s all right. Everything is all right,” he smiled.
“And you’re all right, too,” declared Sandy.
Which, considering everything, was as fine a compliment as Dick had ever received.
CHAPTER XXIV
A TREK HOMEWARD
A dog train waited outside the Keechewan Mission. It was a long train—ten teams of malemutes and huskies—an impatient train, too, for not only the dogs but the drivers as well, waited impatiently for the word of command that would set it in motion. Brake-boards were passed firmly into the snow, the feet holding them in place becoming cramped as the moments passed and still the leader did not appear.
Presently a door creaked open and a tall young man, laden with two heavy mail sacks, emerged to the street. It was Dick Kent—and he was smiling. Behind Dick came Dr. Brady and the cassocked figure of a Catholic priest, Father Bleriot. The two last named persons walked side-by-side, talking and laughing. The priest’s right arm was thrust in friendly fashion through that of the physician’s, and, as the three figures came to a halt directly opposite the sledge, to which a team of beautiful gray malemutes were harnessed, the doctor declared:
“So we’re to go back at last. I see you have everything ready, Dick. Nothing to do now except pull our worthless freight out of here.”