MURKY TAKES A HAND
“Is that you, Dick?”
The voice was Corporal Rand’s. Dick’s sigh of relief was more like an
explosive gasp. He tottered forward a few steps and grasped the sleeve
of the policeman’s coat, clinging there like a person who had found a
friendly haven in the center of a whirlpool. Gradually he recovered his
self-possession.
“Did you see them too?” he asked.
“See whom?” demanded the corporal, whispering. “What do you mean? What
are you doing out here? I thought I’d left you in bed.”
“I’ll explain,” answered Dick, “but first we’d better go to my room.
We’re not safe here.”
Entering the house a few moments later, they made their way in silence
along the hallway and entered Dick’s room. Here the light from the oil
lamp, which stood on the table, seemed very bright and cheerful to their
eyes, which had become accustomed to the intense darkness outside. Rand
started forward in surprise.
“Good Heavens, my boy, you’re as white as a ghost! What’s happened? What
were you doing outside?”
“You were gone so long I followed you,” explained Dick. “What detained
you?”
“Went out to the stable to look after my horse. I put hay in the manger
and then gave him a sheaf of oats. I curried and bedded him down. Of
course, it took a little time.”
“And you didn’t hear voices—”
“No,” Rand replied, “I didn’t hear anything out-of-the-ordinary until
after I had left the stable and heard you running.”
“I started out for the stable myself,” said Dick, “but in the darkness I
took the wrong path, the one toward the warehouse. I heard someone
talking and I thought it was you at first, but as I came closer I made
out the voices of Murky Nichols and a man named La Qua. I have some
startling information to give you, corporal.”
“Good boy! What is it, Dick?”
“The outlaws are sending a pack-train through Blind Man’s Pass tomorrow
night.”
Rand became visibly excited. A look of amazement swept over his face,
then, to Dick’s surprise, he moved forward quickly and blew out the
light.
“A light here may arouse their suspicions if they’re still outside.
We’ll sit in the dark for a while. But go on, Dick—I’m interested. What
else did you overhear?”
“The pack-train will set out from the vicinity of Settlement
Mountain—wherever that is. There’s a small cabin there. La Qua said
there would be thirteen horses in the train. They’re taking through a
little freight for Hart, about three thousand pounds. The rest of the
stuff belongs to Murky and his confederates.”
Corporal Rand whistled softly.
“It’s our chance. You’re a jewel, Dick! Information like this is what
we’ve been looking for for months,” exulted the mounted policeman. “I
happen to know where Settlement Mountain is. Thirty miles from here.
Between Big Lake and the Settlement House River.”
The mounted policeman struck a match in order to consult his watch.
“It’s nearly one o’clock now,” he declared. “No sleep for me tonight.
Your information has upset all my plans, Dick, and yours too. Just as
soon as I think the coast is clear, I’m going to steal out, saddle my
horse and ride over to see Sergeant Richardson.”
“What about our trip to the west coast?” Dick asked. “Wouldn’t it be
foolish for us to go by way of the Yellowhead Pass now that there’s a
chance to follow Murky’s pack-train and discover the much shorter route
through Blind Man’s Pass?”
“Yes, it certainly would,” agreed the corporal. “That’s why I just said
that your information has upset all our plans. We must make new ones
right away to fit the circumstances. Also it will be necessary for us to
move hurriedly and secretly. Instead of sending you south tomorrow
morning—or this morning, to be exact—I’m going to ask the three of you
to start as quickly as possible for the Big Lake country, which is
almost due west of here. You’d better pick out three fast ponies and
head straight for Wandley’s post—you know where that is?”
Dick had often heard of Wandley’s post, although he had never been there
himself. Wandley was a free trader, well known in the North, having for
many years conducted a thriving trade with the Indians. His store or
trading post was situated a few miles south of Big Lake.
“Yes,” said Dick in answer to Rand’s question, “I know where it is. I
met Wandley himself about a year ago. It’s about twenty-five miles over
there, and you follow the Settlement House River trail.”
“Right!”
Rand stepped closer to Dick and spoke in an undertone:
“Sometime before noon today, Constable Pearly—the new man I told you
about—will be at Wandley’s. I’ll give you a message for him. This
message will explain who you are and why I have sent you. The four of
you, Constable Pearly, Sandy, Toma and yourself will continue along the
Settlement House trail until you come to a bend in the river. At this
point you’ll leave the trail, strike straight off through the woods and
make camp at the lower end of the bend just above the river. Here you
will remain in concealment until Sergeant Richardson and I join
you—sometime before dark.”
“What will we do then?” Dick asked a little breathlessly.
“That will depend—” the corporal hesitated, “upon circumstances and
Sergeant Richardson. He will be in command—not I. But I imagine, at
least it is very reasonable to suppose, that we’ll start at once for the
outlaws’ rendezvous, their meeting place near the foot of Settlement
Mountain.”
“But won’t it spoil everything if the outlaws see us?” put in Dick.
“Of course! It’s exactly what we don’t want to happen. We’ll be
compelled to move very carefully. Our only chance of finding Blind Man’s
Pass will be to follow La Qua and his pack-train at a safe distance. We
mustn’t be seen.”
“I suppose you’ll arrest La Qua and his men as soon as they get to the
pass?”
“Possibly. I think a better plan would be to follow them straight
through to the coast—to the big cache they must have there. That is a
suggestion I’m going to make to Sergeant Richardson.”
Dick’s face fell. He was keenly disappointed. The trip to the west
coast, the search for the cache of stolen fur, had suddenly, because of
this new development, gone glimmering. Constable Pearly and Corporal
Rand would probably be the ones now chosen for this task. There was too
much at stake, the danger attending the task of following the outlaws
was too great to permit of any bungling. Here was a job that required
older heads and more experience.
“I guess that lets us out,” said Dick disconsolately. “Sergeant
Richardson wouldn’t hear of Sandy, Toma and I going out there
alone—following the pack-train, I mean.”
Corporal Rand took Dick’s arm and gave it a friendly squeeze.
“I’m afraid not. But don’t feel badly about it, Dick, we may have other
important work for you. If I happen to be the one chosen to trail along
after La Qua, I’ll speak to the sergeant about you and the chances are
that he may consent to the three of you accompanying me. I’ll promise to
do all I can.”
“That will be splendid of you,” Dick blurted out. “All of us will
appreciate your kindness. I don’t know how to thank you.”
“Don’t try,” laughed the policeman. “Everything will be all right, I
assure you. Where are your two friends sleeping?”
“They’re bunking in the room next to the factor’s,” answered Dick.
“Shall I go and wake them?”
“Wait until I go. First of all, I’d like to be sure about the ponies.
Unless you have them, you’ll never be able to get over to Wandley’s in
time to meet Pearly.”
“Sandy and I have a pony each,” Dick assured him. “They’re out in the
stable now with four others, which belong to Factor MacClaren. We’ll
pick out one of Mr. MacClaren’s horses for Toma. If you say the word, we
can saddle-up and be away from here in less than fifteen minutes.”
“That’s the spirit!” Corporal Rand declared. “However, it will not be
necessary for you to start as soon as that. I think you’d better remain
for about three-quarters of an hour after I leave. It might be a good
idea to take emergency rations and an extra blanket or two. In eight or
ten hours there may be a decided change in the temperature. It is always
best to be prepared.”
The mounted policeman tip-toed softly over to the table, struck a match
and re-lit the lamp.
“Now, Dick,” he spoke hurriedly, “I’m going to leave you. In a very few
minutes I’ll be hitting the trail. I want you to remember everything
I’ve told you—but above all, be cautious and careful. When the time
comes, wake Sandy and Toma and make as little noise as possible. Unless
it is absolutely necessary, don’t disturb Factor MacClaren.” He turned
and held out his hand. “Good-bye, and good luck to you!”
“Good-bye,” said Dick, accompanying the corporal as far as the door. “I
hope everything goes well with you.”
A moment later, the door had closed behind the trim, athletic figure and
Dick was left with his mind whirling confusedly. The events of the
night, incident following incident so closely, formed a chaotic picture,
which passed in review before his weary eyes. With difficulty, he
stifled a yawn at the same time looking a wee bit covetously at the
clean, white bed at the far side of the room.
“I’ll wait here for ten or fifteen minutes before I steal over to wake
Toma and Sandy. Gee, I’m so tired I don’t even dare to sit down.”
He began a restless pacing back and forth across the room, occasionally
glancing up at the little clock that stood on a shelf near the door. The
minutes seemed interminable. A cold sweat broke out upon his face, his
hands twitched nervously.
“Still five minutes more,” sighed the impatient young man. “This
suspense is terrible. I hope—”
A slight noise in the hallway outside riveted his attention. He swung
about on his heel, took a few steps forward, then stood stock still,
shaking with excitement. It seemed as if some ghostly hand was opening
the door. Slowly, a few inches at a time, it swung on its hinges, and
presently the bearded, uncouth face of Murky Nichols appeared through
the aperture.
“Stayin’ up kind o’ late, ain’t yuh?” he drawled out in an insinuating
voice.
Dick’s two hands went up to his chin. He made a gesture of pain.
“I’ve been up all night with this pesky toothache,” he said a little
shakily. “Nothing that I can do has seemed to help very much.”
Murky pushed his way into the room, his evil mouth twisted into a sneer.
At the same time, Dick dropped back, edging his way over near the table,
where his rifle stood. Murky’s voice broke an interval of silence.
“I shore feel sorry for yuh, young feller,” he grimaced. “Toothache
ain’t no fun. Ain’t anything I can do, is there?”
“No,” answered Dick, “it will stop aching presently, I hope. Thank you,
just the same.”
As he spoke, he glanced furtively at the clock. It was now twenty
minutes after one—time to wake Sandy and Toma. In less than half an hour
they were due to start for the Wandley post. His problem now was to get
rid of Nichols. On some pretext or other he must induce Murky to leave
the room. But how?
Dick groaned inwardly as the prospector yanked forward a chair and sat
down. All the while his black, penetrating eyes were studying him
closely. His manner and expression showed only too plainly that he was
not in the least deceived by Dick’s lie.
“If I can’t help yuh, I can keep yuh company,” he remarked, his thin
lips curling up at the corners in a faint indication of a smile.
“O, no, that won’t be necessary,” Dick hastened to tell him. “You must
be tired yourself. It has stopped paining me a little now and I think
I’ll pop into bed. You’d better go to your own room, Murky.”
With exasperating slowness, Nichols fumbled in a pocket for tobacco and
pipe. He stretched out his long legs at the end of a few minutes,
puffing contentedly. Evidently, he had no intention of moving just then.
Dick glanced at the clock again. He had grown desperate—and angry. Back
and forth he paced, one hand held to his chin, trying to think of some
way in which he might outwit the imperturbable prospector. Anger,
finally, overcame his caution and he stopped short in front of the
lanky, indolent form.
“I’ll have to ask you to get out,” he heard himself saying. “I’m going
to bed.”
Nichols looked up into Dick’s indignant face, grinned exasperatingly,
and rose lazily to his feet.
“Well, all right, if yuh say so. I jes’ happened to see your light under
the door an’ I thought I’d drop in. Feel kind o’ nervous myself after
what happened this afternoon. Don’t care atall ’bout goin’ tuh bed.
Guess I’ll walk up an’ down the hall fer a while.”
Still grinning, he opened the door and went out. That he actually
intended to remain in the hallway for a time, there could be no doubt.
His suspicions had become aroused and he had shown by his actions that
he was frankly skeptical of Dick’s story. Standing guard outside, he had
his youthful suspect almost as completely under surveillance as if he
had remained in the room.
Dick bolted and locked his door and made ready for his departure. Then
he blew out the light and sat down on the edge of the bed—waiting! Tears
of rage and exasperation welled into his eyes. They were delayed now—and
no immediate prospect of a start. How long would Nichols keep watch in
the hallway? Dick gritted his teeth and swore vengeance upon the wily
outlaw.
The wind, rattling at the window, suddenly gave him an idea. The window!
Funny he hadn’t thought about that before! It would be a simple task to
raise the sash and slip around the building to Sandy’s and Toma’s room.
Once there he would tap lightly on the pane outside until Toma, ever a
restless sleeper, would come to admit him.
A grim smile played around the corners of his mouth as he thought about
Murky standing guard just outside his door to prevent his escape. He was
half-chuckling to himself as he tugged at the sash there in the
darkness. It went up with only a slight squeak, and Dick slipped through
the opening with a wildly exultant heart.
Hurrying around the house, a few moments later he stood just outside the
sleeping boys’ window. With his bared knuckles, he wrapped softly on a
square of glass, continuing intermittently until a shadow appeared on
the opposite side, and a sleepy voice demanded to know what was the
matter.
“Open up!” Dick called softly.
Toma complied willingly enough, and it was not long before Dick stood
within the room.
Whispering a word of warning to the young Indian guide, he pulled a
blanket from the bed and threw it down in front of the door. Then he lit
the lamp. In night attire, rubbing his eyes sleepily, Toma regarded his
friend in wonderment. What sort of trick was this? Dick’s and Sandy’s
pranks were well known to him, and, judging from the broad smile that
quickly lit up his usually mobile features, it was apparent that he
believed that Sandy was to be made the victim of another practical joke.
However, Dick hurriedly disillusioned him.
“No fooling this time, Toma,” he whispered into the Indian’s ear. “It
may be a life or death matter. The police want our help. We haven’t a
minute to lose.”
“What we do?” asked Toma.
“We’re to carry a message to Constable Pearly at Wandley’s post. It is
nearly two in the morning now. We must get there before noon.”
“How we go so fast like that?” Toma wanted to know.
“Ponies,” answered Dick. “Wake Sandy up while I gather together a few
things we may need. If Sandy starts talking before he is fully awake,
shove a pillow in his mouth. Get busy! We’ll have to hurry!”