The guide looked up, his squint eye gleaming defiantly, his mouth quivering with suppressed anger and humiliation.
Silence.
“Answer me!” shouted Dick.
Lamont’s eyes fell before the young leader’s unblinking gaze. His fingers played nervously with the worn fringe of his short fur coat.
“If you don’t talk,” stormed Dick, “it will go hard with you. Why did you come back?”
“I get lonesome,” lied Lamont. “I get lonesome all time out there alone.”
“A very pretty story,” laughed Dick. “You come back in the middle of the night because you were lonesome. You didn’t come back, of course, to steal. Getting hungry, weren’t you? Thought you’d come over and sample our supplies. Well, you failed. You’re a thief, Lamont, a dirty thief, and when we arrive at Keechewan I’ll turn you over to Corporal Rand of the mounted police. How’ll you like that, eh?”
At mention of the dreaded name, the guide stirred uneasily. He looked up again, his features distorted with fear.
“I no help I come back,” his voice broke. “What else I do? I get hungry like you say. You owe me money. What hurt I come here an’ get little something to eat, get mebbe few dollars grub. Anyway,” he hurried on, “you tell me no want me here. You say go.”
This, of course, was perfectly true. Dick had told Lamont that his services were no longer required.