Mackenzie took the map, glanced at it and handed it to Toma. “It’s on Limping Dog Creek,” said Mackenzie, “just where that gorge you follow intersects the stream. You know the place.” To Dick and Sandy: “Introduce yourselves and get acquainted. Toma will get everything ready for you to go on. Take a rest as soon as you eat. Oh, Calico, Calico!” he called to some one.
As the boys and Little John Toma passed out, a large, waddling Indian woman came in. They heard Mackenzie instructing her to get a meal ready for his visitors before the bear-skin curtain dropped behind them and they found themselves in the spacious living room of the post.
Dick and Sandy awkwardly introduced themselves to the young Indian who was to be their guide.
“Glad to meet,” Toma surprised them by saying, his teeth flashing whitely in a smile.
Dick and Sandy quickly felt that they were going to like Toma.
“I’ll bet he’s the son of a chief,” Sandy said to Dick, when the young Indian had gone, and they were busy at the wash bench, scrubbing off some of the smoke and ashes of the forest fire.
The boys ate heartily of the food the Indian woman placed before them on the rough board table. As soon as they were through they were shown to a comfortable bunk behind moose-hide curtains. Scarcely had they lay down when they fell into sound slumber.
It seemed to Dick Kent that he had only been asleep a moment when a hand, gently shaking his shoulder, awakened him. He looked up into the smiling face of Toma, the young guide.
“Time to go,” said Toma. “You wake up other fella.”
As the curtains fell, and Toma disappeared, Dick turned and shook Sandy.