“Oh, no, but you may have to wait for a constable.”
“But we can’t wait!” Dick cried desperately. “We’ve been delayed a week as it is. Sandy’s uncle must have help.”
Corporal Richardson sympathized with them, but he said he would not build up false hopes. “I suggest you ask the Inspector for a special deputization. In times like these every man will be forced into the service who isn’t an enemy of the crown.”
Dick and Sandy thrilled at this possibility. To think of being for even a brief period a member of the Royal Northwest Mounted Police was almost beyond their dreams.
“I’ll have to be mushing,” announced the policeman. “Too bad you lost your dogs. I passed a team about ten miles back. I thought the driver looked rather sneaky. It’s pretty hard to describe ordinary huskies. All I remember unusual about the team was that the leader, an exceptionally big fellow, limped with his left forefoot. Not much, just a little.”
“That’s our team, sure enough!” Dick cried. “Remember, Sandy, how that leader limped?”
“I wish we could catch up with the fellow,” Sandy gritted.
“It’s too late now,” Corporal Richardson shook his head. “I wish I could split my team with you, but you see I’ve only four and with two I’d be slowed up considerably. What you’d better do is leave your sled, and take what you need by shoulder pack. If——”
Corporal Richardson did not finish the sentence. He seemed to start, and his eyes widened. His hand flew to his chest. Across the snow came the ringing crack of a distant rifle. The mounted policeman dropped upon one elbow, as his startled companions hastened to him.
Dick shook his fist at the hills in the direction the shot seemed to have come from.