Toma, assured Dick was determined to go, grunted his assent, and a moment later Dick disappeared into the bushes on his perilous venture. Sandy and Toma crawled back to within gunshot of the camp, where the men had gathered again, gesticulating to one another, plainly undecided what to do.
When Dick left his chum and the guide he realized the danger he faced. Yet he knew any information he might gain would be more than valuable to the police when once he got in touch with them. Govereau’s men were talking so loudly that he had little trouble in overhearing them. The leader’s heavy voice broke out in French, which disappointed Dick, for he knew very little French. Then Govereau changed to broken English, evidently for the benefit of a member of his band who did not understand French.
“We go on queeck, ketch them,” Govereau was saying. “Sure t’ing them fella are zee ver’ ones come from Fort du Lac. That devil Many-Scar an’ them others—they let zem get through Little Moose, I bat. We go.”
The four began breaking camp hurriedly. The scar faced Indian was reclining with one arm in a crude sling. He arose with the others and rolled up his blanket with one hand, as if nothing were wrong with him.
Dick was disappointed in not hearing anything regarding the situation at Fort Good Faith. But, as he could think of nothing to do about it, he edged about and crept back to Sandy and Toma.
“They’re breaking camp,” he told his companions. “They think we’ve gone on ahead. Suppose we fool them and camp right here after they leave.”
Toma’s face lighted up and Sandy was jubilant at the chance to rest his weary legs. A few minutes later, hidden in the bushes, they watched Govereau and his four men string out on the trail and quietly disappear into the forest. They got a close look at the leader of the band as he passed, and Dick and Sandy could not suppress a shiver of dread. The man had an exceedingly evil and cruel face.
Dick hid his disappointment in learning nothing of Henderson’s movements and of Sandy’s uncle in his elation at this opportunity to camp where Toma had planned. They would be fresh for a long hike next day, which would take them to the hidden cache of provisions.
Toma said little while they prepared their scanty meal, which was for the most part, bear steak. Every now and then the guide looked up at the sky and sniffed the air.
“Storm pretty soon. Winter come. Heap big blizzard few days,” he finally confided to Dick and Sandy.