TAKE THE OFFENSIVE.
The next morning, Wolf Brennan and Toby McCallum arrived at Half Way
House. Sandy, who was walking along the river at the time, witnessed
their approach, a grim and dour pair aboard a light raft, which they
poled and shoved against the tugging current.
Sandy did not wait for them to put in at the boat landing. Suddenly
fearful, he hastened up to the post to spread the alarm. Dick and Toma
received the news calmly. The former went immediately to his room,
buckled on his revolver and returned to the trading room to announce to
his two chums that he proposed to go down to the river forthwith to meet
the new arrivals.
“Dick,” exploded Sandy, “you’re crazy! Have you forgotten the letter you
received?”
Dick shook his head. “No, I haven’t. That’s the very reason I’m going
down there. If they think they can intimidate me, they’re badly
mistaken. If I show the white feather they’ll make life miserable for
me—not only for me but for all of us. The best thing to do is put on a
bold front and go down there and show them that I’m not afraid.”
“Cracky!” admired Sandy. “I wouldn’t have the nerve to do that. They may
pull a gun and shoot you.”
“You show ’em pretty good sense, Dick,” declared Toma, indicating by his
expression how proud he was of his chum. “When them fellow see you down
at the boat landing they won’t know what to think.”
“Come on,” said Dick, “let’s hurry.”
They ran all the way down to the river. They arrived there just as the
two outlaws drove their raft up to the landing and made fast. Pushing
his way through the crowd, Dick was one of the first to welcome them.
“Hello, Wolf. Hello, Toby. I see you’ve got back. I received your
letter, Brennan.”
The outlaws were nonplused, taken aback by the unexpectedness of Dick’s
greeting. Both were seething with fury. In the very act of reaching for
his gun, Wolf paused and bethought himself of the mounted police. For
all he knew, this might be a trap for them to fall into.
“Yes, we got back,” growled Wolf, his face red with humiliation. “We got
back an’ we’re going to stay here fer awhile. We got a lot of business
to attend to here at Half Way House,” he hinted darkly. “Just as soon as
we’ve seen Factor Frazer, we got a little matter we want to talk over
with yuh.”
Looking around and perceiving no mounted policemen in the crowd, Wolf
raised his voice.
“A little matter we want to discuss with yuh an’ your friends.”
“Factor Frazer isn’t here any more,” Dick told them.
Both the men gave a quick start, staring at him incredulously.
“You’re lyin’,” croaked McCallum.
“Go and see for yourself,” Dick spoke calmly. “Mr. Scott is in charge
here now.”
The news had a very unusual effect upon the two newcomers. McCallum went
suddenly pale and the frown upon Wolf Brennan’s forehead blackened like
a thunder cloud. Yet is was apparent that they only half believed Dick’s
statement. Seizing his rifle and a small bag of luggage, Wolf motioned
to his companion and they lumbered up the path toward the trading post.
The boys followed them all the way, slipping through the door just as
Brennan demanded:
“Where’s Donald Frazer?”
Scott turned quickly at the sound of the gruff voice.
“Mr. Frazer isn’t here any more.”
“Where is he?”
“That’s a question, Mr. Brennan, that I can’t answer. I do not happen to
be in Mr. Frazer’s confidence. The former factor went away very suddenly
and left no forwarding address. Otherwise I might suggest that you could
write to him.”
The sarcasm was lost upon Brennan.
“I believe yuh know an’ don’t want to tell us,” McCallum growled.
Wolf Brennan marched to the counter and made a few purchases. When this
had been done, he turned, held a whispered consultation with his
partner, then again approached the factor.
“Got any liquor?” he snarled.
“A little,” answered Scott, not wishing to sell it to him.
Brennan’s ugly face lighted up and he started for the cellar door.
“I know where yuh keep it,” he said, “an’ I’ll go down an’ fetch a
couple of bottles. That’s the way I always done when Frazer was here.”
Factor Scott came around the corner of the counter, his cheeks flushed
with anger.
“Mr. Frazer isn’t here now,” he informed Brennan hotly. “If you want two
bottles of liquor, I’ll get it myself. And while we’re on the subject,
I’ll tell you this much: I don’t care about selling the stuff to people
like you and McCallum. Also I want to warn you, if you get drunk and
cause any trouble around the post, I’ll put you on the list and you’ll
never get another drop from me as long as I remain in charge here.”
The two partners exchanged significant glances and Wolf’s face fell.
Observing this, Scott believed that it was his threat that caused their
sudden dejection. But not Dick. He could see through the wily plan of
the big prospector. Brennan wanted to go down to the cellar alone to
fetch his two bottles because, by doing so, he would have an opportunity
to look into the pit and see if the gold was still there.
When Scott returned with the bottles, McCallum paid for them and the two
partners stalked out. Watching their exit, the factor turned grimly to
Dick.
“When did they get here?” he asked.
“Just a short time ago. We met them at the boat landing when they
arrived.”
Factor Scott scowled. “I hope they decide to leave again before they
commence to drink that rum. They’re vicious. Frazer seemed to get along
with them well enough but it was because he let them have their own way.
All winter they’ve been a regular pest around here, have instigated more
fights and have caused more trouble than any other twenty men in this
entire region. But now that I’m in charge,” Factor Scott’s lips
tightened, “they don’t want to try their bullying methods with me.”
Soon afterward the boys went outside and sat down on the bench to
discuss the new development.
“Brennan didn’t fool me when he suggested going to the cellar,” Sandy
stated.
“You’re thinking about the pit, aren’t you?” smiled Dick. “The same
thought came into my mind. Wolf wanted to find out whether or not Frazer
had taken the gold.”
“What do you suppose they’ll do next?” mused Sandy.
Toma rose nervously and paced back and forth in front of the store
building. Abruptly he stopped in front of Dick, frowning.
“Them fellow go to find Pierre and Henri Mekewai,” he said. “Why not we
go ’long too? Mebbe we find out where they hide the gold.”
“Why not?” Sandy bounced to his feet. “Listen, Dick. I have an
inspiration. Let’s cut straight through the woods over to the river and
hide in the brush behind the Mekewai tepee. If you recall, their tepee
is set at the bottom of a slope just below a heavy thicket of alders.
The alder bushes are only about twenty feet from the tepee. If they
commence drinking, they’ll talk loud enough so that we’ll be able to
catch a good deal of what they say.”
Dick was so pleased with this plan that he clapped Sandy on the back,
suggesting that they start at once. Less than a quarter of an hour
later, they crawled on hands and knees into the thicket at the place
designated. It was very quiet in the tepee. The only sound they heard
was the murmur of the river.
“They haven’t arrived here yet,” Dick whispered. “But I’m pretty sure
they’ll be along in a few minutes. Just now, I imagine, they’re making
inquiries down at the boat landing. You see, they don’t know yet whether
the Mekewai boys are here or whether they have gone with Frazer.”
Toma parted the bushes and looked out.
“I see somebody come,” he announced excitedly.
Dick and Sandy rose to their knees and they, too, peered down along the
shore.
“Brennan and McCallum all right,” Sandy whispered breathlessly.
Dick nudged his chum, “Careful!” he warned. “Let’s all sit down and be
very quiet.”
Soon afterward they could hear voices in the tepee, the loud domineering
voice of Wolf Brennan, the rasping snarl of Toby McCallum and the
broken, guttural tones of one of the Mekewai boys. Only occasionally,
however, did they catch a word they could understand.
But true to Sandy’s prediction, the voices grew more noisy. They had
probably opened one of the bottles. Heavy oaths punctured the talk now.
An argument of some sort seemed to be in progress.
“It’s a lie!” suddenly screamed McCallum.
Then the boys heard quite distinctly Wolf thunder out: “Where’s Henri?”
Sandy leaned close to Dick whispering in his ear: “Hear that? Only one
of the Mekewai boys is inside there. Wonder where the other is?”
At that moment Dick felt a thrill of excitement go through him. Brennan
was speaking and he had heard another sentence.
“If yuh didn’t bury it in a safe place, yuh’ll have to answer for it.”
“Plenty safe,” they heard Pierre Mekewai answer.
A roar of ribald laughter was followed by splintering glass. Evidently,
they had already finished one bottle and had broken it. The voices
subsided a little hereafter and the three boys were straining their ears
in an effort to make out what was being said, when a soft, cat-like
tread sounded behind them.
Dick whirled, his hand darting to the revolver at his side. Sandy gave a
low exclamation of dismay. Toma grunted. Approaching them was the other
Mekewai brother. He carried a rifle. His pock-scarred face was twisted
in a hideous leer.
“What you fellow do here?” he demanded.
“Haven’t we a right to sit here if we want to?” trembled Dick.
“You go ’way pretty quick,” threatened the Indian.
The boys rose to their feet, feeling like culprits caught in the act of
committing some petty offense.
“You go quick,” snarled the Indian. “If you come back again, next time I
shoot.”