“Yes, and they won’t get them back either,” Dick retorted. “Without arms, they’ll be helpless. During the day while we’re traveling, I’ll keep them on my sledge with the mail, and at night in my tent with a guard posted. That means we’ll have to take turn, the four of us, at sentinel duty.”
Placing their load of weapons on Dick’s sledge, they rejoined Sandy and Toma, who still guarded the mutineers.
“You can put away your guns,” ordered Dick.
“But what about these prisoners?” Sandy asked.
“I think they’ll be willing to go back to their teams now. Is it not so, Fontaine?”
The stalwart French half-breed pretended not to hear.
“Fontaine,” Dick raised his voice, “did you hear what I said? You can all go now. Take up your tents, harness your dogs the same as usual, and get ready to start.”
The dog drivers were at a disadvantage and they knew it. There was nothing to do but to obey. Yet it was with much muttering and grumbling, that they turned again to their morning’s routine. They would bide their time. The boys had gained the upper hand now, but this was only the first round in a battle of wits. Tomorrow, perhaps, they might be the victors.
“We’ll have to watch them day and night,” Sandy declared, shoving the revolver back in its holster and turning away. “Heaven help us, if they ever get a chance at those guns again—or those deadly-looking knives.”
“Yes,” agreed Dr. Brady, “I don’t like their looks. Naturally, they’ll resent this. I think that we can expect trouble. I’ll volunteer for the first night’s guard duty.”