“Keechewan Mission is closer than that,” Thomas corrected him. “I ’spose we can go that way.”
“Not me,” shivered Bill. “I’m as close to Keechewan Mission as I intend to get.”
“Did you come from there?” sharply inquired the policeman.
“No,” answered Thomas, “but we heard about it. It’s rotten with smallpox an’ boilin’ with trouble like a hot teakettle. It ain’t no good place fer a white man to be.”
“I’m going there,” said the policeman.
“Yuh don’t say?” gasped both men in one voice.
“If I can make it on two pounds of flour,” appended the policeman.
“You said yuh had six,” remembered Thomas.
“I’ll divide with you in the morning.”
Bill and Thomas exchanged glances of genuine wonder and admiration.