TWO VISITORS.
Dick Kent had plenty of time that night to think about the crude joke
Mr. Frazer, the factor at Half Way House, had played upon them. The
factor must have known full well that the mammoth skeleton of the
dinosaur could not be conveyed easily up the river on an ordinary raft.
He must have known, too, of the utter impossibility of packing the huge
creature over the thirteen portages that are to be found between the
island of the granite shaft and the trading post, three hundred miles up
the river.
Given sufficient leisure to think the matter over, Dick decided that he
did not blame Sandy one bit for the anger and bitterness that Frazer’s
trickery had aroused. The young Scotchman had eaten his supper in a huff
and later had retired to his blankets in a manner that was, to say the
very least, thoroughly hostile and unfriendly. His actions indicated
very plainly that he, for one, didn’t consider this business of the
dinosaur as the sort of joke that could pass unnoticed or unforgiven, or
that could be laughed down or yet dismissed with a shrug. It rankled and
cut deep. Some day Mr. Frazer would hear about it.
Dick turned his eyes toward the campfire and watched the shadows
creeping up to the bright circle its glimmering light made. He lay quite
still, listening to the monotonous beat of the water around the shore of
the island. He was dimly aware of the tall granite slab that thrust up
its pointed head in cold disdain of the lowly trees under it. Far away
somewhere a loon called out mockingly and derisively to its mate.
Sandy woke on the following morning in a better humor. Over a hot cup of
tea and a crisp rasher of bacon, he apologized for his behavior on the
previous night.
“I had no reason to be angry with you, Dick,” he stated contritely. “But
you irritated me because you took it all so good-naturedly. It can’t be
denied that the joke is on us, but you surely know that he went too far
with it. He never should have permitted us to start out. Our time is
worth something and we paid the factor a good stiff price for our
grubstake. Then there are all those cumbersome tools we brought
along—rock chisels, pickaxes, hatchets and what not. We paid for them
out of our own hard-earned money. A very expensive practical joke, if
you ask me.”
In the act of raising a cup of steaming beverage to his lips, Toma
paused and his dark eyes fell upon Sandy’s face.
“Mebbe not so much joke like you think. Mebbe Mr. Frazer him not want us
to stay at Half Way House any longer. Mebbe he think your Uncle Walter
send us fellows down to spy on him an’ he no like that.”
Both Dick and Sandy started. They had never looked at the situation from
quite that angle. The young Indian’s statement had induced a new train
of thought. Come to think of it, why had Sandy’s uncle, Mr. Walter
MacClaren, factor at Fort Good Faith and superintendent for the Hudson
Bay Company for all that vast northern territory, sent them over to Half
Way House in the first place? Sandy looked at Dick searchingly for
another moment, then broke forth:
“Gee, I never thought about that. Toma, you’re too deep for us. I can
begin to see now.”
Dick pursed his lips, scowling slightly.
“Mr. MacClaren said that the hunting was good up around Half Way House
and that we’d enjoy our summer’s vacation there. He didn’t tell us that
he was suspicious of Mr. Frazer. Naturally he wouldn’t. He wanted us to
find that out for ourselves. Sandy,” he glanced eagerly across at his
chum, “as far as you know, has Mr. Frazer a reputation for being much of
a practical joker?”
Sandy put down his cup and proceeded to pour out his second helping of
tea.
“No, I’ve never heard that he was. And certainly he doesn’t look the
part. I wouldn’t call him frivolous. My impression of him has always
been that he is inclined to be sort of taciturn, reserved and fairly
uncommunicative.”
At this juncture, Toma again broke into the discussion.
“He not look like man that see anything to laugh about ever. I no like
that fellow very much. I no like them friends he keep alla time hanging
around the post. Look like bad men to me.”
On many occasions previously during their sojourn in the North, the two
boys had come to place a good deal of reliance on the young Indian’s
snap judgment. He had an almost uncanny ability to read character and of
finding hidden traits, both good and bad, in the persons with whom he
came in contact. Seldom did he err.
“He’s referring to Wolf Brennan and Toby McCallum,” said Sandy. “Well, I
don’t know as one could call them Frazer’s friends.”
“I see Mr. Frazer talk with them many times,” Toma wagged his head.
“When I come close they hush up—don’t talk any more. An’ one time I see
a light in Mr. Frazer’s room late, ’bout two o’clock, I think. An’ there
through the window I see ’em. Wolf Brennan, McCallum, Frazer an’ two
Indians I do not know.”
“Why didn’t you tell us this before?” demanded Dick.
That was the way with Toma—ever reticent. His uncommunicativeness often
became a source of despair to his two chums.
“You no ask me.”
“But how did we know?” glared Sandy. “We weren’t up at two o’clock that
night.”
“I no tell you that,” Toma explained, “because I think mebbe you no want
to hear bad things about Mr. Frazer.”
“You cherub!” Sandy snorted.
“Sandy,” questioned Dick, “how does Mr. Frazer stand with the company?”
Sandy stirred the oatmeal, sugar and bacon grease together in what was
to Dick an unappetizing mess.
“Uncle Walter never told me.”
“But haven’t you heard?” Dick persisted.
“No, I haven’t,” Sandy commenced to eat his favorite dish. “Uncle Walter
never tells me anything about his business. He’s as close-mouthed as the
average Scotchman, I guess.”
“There are some ways in which you do not resemble him in the least,”
pointed out Dick, winking at Toma.
No more was said on the subject then. As soon as they had washed their
breakfast dishes, Dick and Sandy went over for another view of the
dinosaur, while Toma set out to explore the island. The dinosaur, in the
bright morning sunlight, seemed to be as ugly and repellent as it had
been in the evening’s shadows on the night before. Again they were awed
by its presence. It seemed inconceivable that anything so huge and ugly
had ever walked upon the earth.
“How’d you like to meet one of those things alive?” asked Sandy.
“Not for me. A bullet would probably flatten out on its scaly hide. At
the best, it would feel like no more than a pin-prick. And Mr. Frazer
told us we could bring that thing back on a raft. He must have known
better, because he was here two years ago and saw it with his own eyes.”
“Of course, he knew better,” growled Sandy.
The bushes parted behind them. First Toma’s head was thrust through and
then his body. He motioned to them eagerly.
“Come on,” he said. “I show you something. Come quick!”
They turned and followed him, finding it difficult to keep pace with
him, so quickly did he go. They came presently to a fringe of willows
not far from the western shore of the lake. The young Indian motioned
them to be seated.
“Watch out there in the lake,” he commanded them. “Pretty soon you see
something. Keep very quiet. No talk now.”
Both waited expectantly. Out ahead of them the lake rippled and
sparkled. Suddenly a canoe glided within their range of vision—a canoe
containing two occupants. Their paddles dipping in unison, the two men
sat very straight, one in, the center and one in the stern, two mackinaw
coated figures, two bearded white men whom the boys recognized
instantly. In the excitement of the moment, Sandy jabbed his elbow in
Dick’s ribs.
“Cracky!” he blurted out. “What’s up now? Wolf Brennan and Toby
McCallum! They’re coming here.”
But in this Sandy was mistaken. The canoe did not pause, did not waver.
It swept in fairly close to the island then, as if it had suddenly
changed its mind, it swerved sharply and continued on its course. The
two men sat like statues until they were thirty or forty yards away.
Then Wolf Brennan craned his thick, bull-like neck and looked back.
Even at that distance the boys caught the expression that distorted the
man’s coarse features. A leer, a mocking, unfriendly grin, a diabolical,
fiendish sneer!
Abruptly he turned and the paddle, gripped in his huge ape-like hands,
glinted in the sunlight as it smote the gleaming water.