“Yes, more apt to. You don’t know Toma. He’s a jewel. Clever tracker and all that. Courage like a panther. He’d succeed where I’d fail.”
“I call that a compliment.”
“It is a compliment. He’s wonderful.”
Brady completed dressing.
“Is there anything that I can do to help?”
“Yes, if you will. You might waken the dog mushers and see that breakfast is started while I go over and consult with Toma.”
“I suppose we’ll have to remain in camp here until your friend returns. The delay will be provoking but of course it can’t be helped.”
“I had planned to have the party go on the same as usual,” said Dick. “You see, doctor, time is precious. We can’t afford to lose a minute. Toma will have to take his chance. He knows the general direction in which we are travelling and can easily pick up our tracks.”
Dr. Brady and Dick separated just outside the tent. The wind sent a swirl of snow about their ankles. Already a few of the malemutes could be seen emerging from their snowy dens or standing, gaunt and motionless with raised muzzles, sniffing the frosty air.
Toma was not only awake but had already left his sleeping quarters and, when Dick found him, was squatting Indian fashion in front of a roaring spruce fire, drinking a hot cup of tea. At sight of his chum, he put down the cup, his face lighting with a smile.