“Stop it! Stop it, I say. I have you covered.”
The two figures drew apart. Dick wondered if they weren’t two of his own dog drivers, between whom ill-feeling existed, and who were employing this method to settle their differences. Imagine his surprise when the voice of Toma broke the quiet.
“Dick! You!” he puffed. “This fellow he put up pretty good fight. Twice he almost get away.”
“But who is it?” Dick asked wonderingly. “Who is it, Toma?”
“Lamont,” answered the young Indian briefly.
Dick took a step forward and almost dropped his gun.
“Lamont!” he exploded. “Lamont! Lamont! It can’t be——”
“It is,” said Toma stubbornly. “Pretty soon you find out. You see I tell you right.”
“But what in the name of—” Dick began, then paused breathless. “Lamont—what’s he doing here? How did you happen to find him, Toma? What were you fighting about?”
“I wake up over there in tent,” Toma explained, “when I hear something go by. First I think mebbe it one of the huskies. Then I hear more noise out by my sledge. I dress quick as I can an’ go out there. No gun!—nothing! An’ I find him this thief try to steal. Soon as he hear me, he start run over here, near your tent. I grab him by shoulder, but he slip away again. More run. Again I catch him. I trip him down an’ grab him by his throat. Then he make yell.”