Dick and Sandy hurried after the guide, curiously gazing at the fort. Along the top of the stockade they could see a red-coated policeman pacing slowly back and forth.
“Who goes there?” the sentry above the gate called when the worn travelers appeared.
“Friends,” cried Dick. “We’re from Fort du Lac—looking for help at Fort Good Faith.”
“You the lads that helped bring in Corporal Richardson?” the sentry gruffly asked.
“Yes.”
The huge gate swung back immediately, and the young adventurers passed through. The police guard met them as the gate was closed.
“You’ll want to see Inspector Dawson?” asked the guard.
“I think he’s the man we should see,” Dick replied.
Presently they were ushered into the presence of Inspector Dawson, whose grim face, under a thatch of iron gray hair, broke into a smile, meant to be kind.
Dick and Sandy gave the scout salute.