WANDLEY’S POST
The boys reached Wandley’s Post shortly after twelve o’clock and just in
time to intercept Constable Pearly, who had arrived early and was
saddling up in preparation for his departure. Their ponies covered with
mud and lather, Dick and his two companions dashed into the compound and
came to an abrupt halt not twenty feet from the policeman himself, who
had come rushing to the door of the stable at the first sound of
clattering hoofs.
Dick stumbled from his mount and limped forward with the message in his
hands.
“From Corporal Rand at Fort Good Faith,” he explained, presenting the
letter. “I’m Dick Kent. These are my two friends, Sandy MacClaren and
John Toma. At Corporal Rand’s request we rode over from Fort Good Faith
this morning.”
The corporal acknowledged the introduction with a friendly smile and a
hand-clasp for each of the three mud-bespattered messengers. Then he
tore up the envelope. As he read its contents, a slight frown settled
and overspread his face.
“This is important news. Thanks very much for bringing it over. I see
that the three of you are to go with me.”
“Yes; that’s what we understood,” Dick replied.
Pearly rubbed his chin thoughtfully.
“It’s only a few miles from here to our destination. You’ll have plenty
of time to rest and get something to eat before we start.”
Sandy greeted this declaration with an exclamation of approval. The boys
were ravenously hungry and so stiff and sore that they could scarcely
walk. Loss of sleep and the hard ride from Fort Good Faith had worn
Dick’s endurance to a shred. He was nearly tottering as he reached out
for the bridle-reins of his pony and led the fagged and foot-sore little
beast through the open door of the stable.
A few minutes later, having cared for their tired mounts, they
accompanied Constable Pearly to Wandley’s trading room. Just outside the
door, Dick, happening to glance through the window, drew back suddenly
with a cry of surprise. Seated at one of the tables was the burly figure
of La Qua, and immediately opposite, their heads bent forward in
discussion, were the two half-breeds who had played such a conspicuous
part in the affairs of the previous day. Dick seized Pearly’s arm, just
as the latter reached for the latch-string.
“We can’t go in there, constable,” he declared excitedly, his voice
hoarse and tremulous. “Quick! Let’s get away from here. If we step
inside, it’ll spoil everything.”
In spite of Sandy’s remonstrances and the policeman’s puzzled and
questioning look, Dick hurriedly led the way back to the compound before
he could be induced to offer a single word of explanation.
“It’s La Qua,” he broke forth eagerly, “the man who will be in charge of
the pack-train Murky is sending over to Blind Man’s Pass tonight. He was
sitting in there at one of the tables. He’s already suspicious of me,
and it would never do to meet him again now.”
“Are you sure it’s La Qua?” Pearly wished to know.
Dick nodded his head emphatically.
“Yes, I am sure. He was over at Good Faith yesterday—in fact, until one
o’clock this morning—consulting with Murky Nichols. One of the two men
with him is the half-breed Corporal Rand arrested for attempting to stab
Nichols.”
“Stab Nichols!” Pearly’s face lit up with sudden interest. “I hadn’t
heard about it. When did this happen?”
“Yesterday afternoon,” Dick replied. “I thought perhaps Rand had
mentioned it to you in his letter.”
“No,” answered Pearly, “he had too many other things to tell me. Most of
his message was taken up with instructions which we are to follow as
soon as we leave this post.”
Sandy’s dispirited face clouded still more as the moments passed. Unable
longer to withstand the gnawing demands of his stomach, he stepped
forward and demanded:
“What about something to eat? Just because that blamed outlaw is sitting
in there, is no reason why we should all go hungry. Constable Pearly,
isn’t there something you can suggest?”
“Certainly,” smiled the constable, “I can easily arrange that. But first
we’d better find a more suitable hiding place than this.”
“What about the loft in the stable?” proposed Dick.
“As good a place as any,” Pearly decided, glancing across at Sandy’s wan
and disconsolate features.
“I’ll hustle back to the trading room and purchase a few things for you
to eat. While I’m doing that, the three of you can go up to the loft.”
The boys entered the barn and climbed the rickety ladder to the floor
above. Crossing over to a large pile of hay, they flung themselves down
to await the constable’s return. It was not long before he reappeared.
With a sigh of intense satisfaction, Sandy reached out for the packages
Pearly had handed over and began dividing their contents.
“I had a good look at this man, La Qua, and the three half-breeds,” the
policeman informed them. “From what little of their conversation I was
able to overhear, it is evident that they are about to leave Wandley’s.
They’ll probably proceed at once to Settlement Mountain.”
“Will they follow the same trail as we will?” asked Dick.
Constable Pearly nodded. “Yes, there’s only one route which leads off in
that direction. They will go directly past the bend in the river, where
we are to await the coming of Richardson and Rand. Our best plan is to
remain here until La Qua and his two men leave. Then we can follow them
leisurely. As I said before, we have only a few miles to go. I think
we’d better not take our horses with us. I’ll make arrangements with
Wandley himself to have them looked after.”
Pearly excused himself, and a short time later the boys could hear his
measured tread across the frozen ground outside.
“He’ll keep a sharp eye on La Qua,” decided Sandy. “I don’t imagine the
outlaw will stay here very long if they are really planning to set out
with the pack-train tonight.”
“Constable Pearly him pretty good policeman,” said Toma.
“Yes, he’s the new man from the Peace River detachment,” Dick explained.
“Corporal Rand spoke highly of him.”
Sandy yawned and stretched out his legs. Since eating, it was quite
apparent that he felt much better. Eyes twinkling, he looked across at
Dick.
“I’m beginning to feel like a new man myself. I’ll be ready to start any
time. I honestly believe, Dick, that I’m going to enjoy this adventure
almost as much as I would the trip to the coast. Hope nothing happens to
prevent a change in the outlaws’ plans to start for the pass tonight.”
“I don’t believe anything is likely to occur now,” responded Dick. “La
Qua seems to be very anxious to return to Settlement Mountain. I’ll be
very much surprised if the pack-train doesn’t leave there soon after
dark.”
The boys were so busily engaged in discussing the proposed trip that
they did not hear Constable Pearly when he stole silently up the ladder
and emerged to the loft. Dick turned quickly at the policeman’s
approach, then started in surprise. The constable’s face was grave, his
manner a little furtive. A slight frown had etched more deeply the lines
in his forehead. As he came over to where the three boys sat, he raised
a finger to his lips.
“I can’t understand it,” he whispered. “The two half-breeds have gone!
But that isn’t all! Murky Nichols rode up to the door of the trading
room a few minutes ago, and he and La Qua are conferring now just
outside. I wonder what it means?”
Dick’s face fell. Here was an unlooked-for turn of events. A feeling of
disappointment swept over him. So Murky had become alarmed and had left
Fort Good Faith as soon as he had discovered that he, Dick, had eluded
him. Was he here to instruct La Qua not to send the pack-train of stolen
fur through the pass?
In as few words as possible, Dick informed Pearly of the incidents of
the previous night, describing Murky’s suspicious attitude when he had
forced his way into Dick’s room.
“Do you think,” he concluded, “that Nichols has come expressly for the
purpose of warning La Qua?”
The constable folded his arms and stood for a short time, his brow
wrinkled in thought.
“It is hard to guess what will be the outcome of this visit,” he
answered finally, “or to know definitely Murky’s purpose. But it is easy
to see that he came here on some matter of extreme importance. His horse
nearly dropped from exhaustion as he rode in. Its flanks were steaming
wet, spattered with mud, while under its belly were two horrible welts
which the brute had inflicted with his spurs. At any other time, I would
have arrested Murky on the spot for cruelty to a poor dumb animal.”
As he spoke, Pearly’s eyes flashed with indignation.
“He’s driven furiously all the way from Fort Good Faith,” he went on.
“He would never have done that unless the occasion warranted the
effort.”
“I guess we’d better remain in hiding,” trembled Sandy. “Do you think
we’ll be safe here, constable?”
A ghost of a smile played across the policeman’s weather-tanned
features.
“If you mean ‘safe from detection’—I doubt it. Sooner or later some one
is certain to enter this loft and will find you here. Murky may lead his
horse into the stable at any moment.”
“Even if he does, he may not come to the loft,” reasoned Dick. “There is
plenty of hay piled up in the stable below.”
“But what about your ponies? Wouldn’t he recognize them?”
Dick and Sandy gasped in unison. Toma bounded to his feet with a
guttural exclamation of dismay.
“Nichols be sure know ponies right away,” he declared excitedly.
“What do you think we’d better do?” Sandy quavered.
“Get your horses out of the stable as quickly as possible,” Pearly
replied. “This young man here”—indicating Toma—“can give me a hand. Come
on! We’ll have to hurry. You two,” motioning Dick and Sandy to remain
seated, “will remain here. I’ll let you know just as soon as the coast
is clear. I may possibly find another hiding place.”
“They’ll take them out through the back door,” said Dick.
A noise below, followed by the creaking of a door, indicated to the boys
that Constable Pearly and Toma were taking out the ponies. Soon after
another sound came from the front of the building. Almost immediately,
Dick heard someone walking across the stable floor and the gruff voices
of La Qua and Nichols.
Although they listened intently, neither Dick nor Sandy could hear any
of the conversation. The rumbling tones died away presently. A tense
moment had passed. Sandy rose and tip-toed across the loft, endeavoring
to peep out through a narrow slit between the logs. He was about to turn
to come back, when he became visibly excited, motioning frantically to
his chum.
“La Qua has taken out his horse!” he whispered breathlessly to Dick, as
soon as the other had joined him.
“Is Murky going with him?” asked Dick.
Sandy stepped back to permit the other to look through the tiny
aperture.
“No,” he answered. “From the look of it, Murky intends to remain here.
La Qua is probably going on to Settlement Mountain.”
Dick caught sight of a fleeting roan, upon which was astride the
slouching, unkempt figure of La Qua. Then abruptly he was startled by
the sound of the door of the stable creaking open again, and a few
moments later, heavy steps upon the ladder, leading to the loft.
For one brief moment, Dick’s heart leaped to his throat. Had Murky
Nichols learned of their presence there? Or was it Constable Pearly and
Toma? He and Sandy stood shaking with suppressed excitement, their eyes
riveted on the trap-door. Both breathed a sigh of relief as the flushed
face of the mounted policeman appeared through the opening. Behind him,
came Toma. Dick and Sandy rushed forward excitedly to meet them.
“Do you think La Qua is going on to Settlement Mountain?” Dick asked.
The constable paused to brush the dust from his tunic. A thoughtful
expression shadowed his face.
“This thing is getting more and more complicated,” he finally broke
forth. “I don’t know what to make of it. If La Qua has really gone on to
Settlement Mountain in anticipation of the trip tonight, I can’t
understand why Nichols did not accompany him.”
“Perhaps he is here to watch our movements,” said Dick. “He may have
heard of our arrival.”
Pearly compressed his lips and looked searchingly at the three boys.
“Did any one see you when you rode up?” he demanded.
Sandy and Dick both shook their heads, but Toma—it was quite
apparent—had important information to impart.
“I see ’em two fellows walk away from compound just when we ride up,”
came his startling revelation. “Me no sure, but I think mebbe one fellow
him white man.”
“Where did they go?” snapped Pearly.
“Don’t know,” answered the young Indian guide. “When we get close I see
’em no more. Mebbe they walk around building and go in trading room.”
A deep silence followed this last statement. Pearly regarded Dick with
questioning eyes. Sandy rubbed his chin thoughtfully.
“Do you suppose that it was La Qua and one of the half-breeds, and that
they recognized us?”
The constable made an impatient gesture.
“This is all conjecture and will get us nowhere. We have no way of
determining whether the outlaws know you are here or not. The thing to
do is to assume that they haven’t seen you, and lay our plans
accordingly. Toma and I have staked out the ponies about a hundred yards
from here in a shallow coulee that slopes down to the shore of
Settlement House River. Your next move will be to get over there without
Murky seeing you.”
“But what will we do with the ponies now?” Sandy interposed.
“I’m coming to that. As I previously informed you, I had intended to ask
Wandley to look after them. That is out of the question now with Nichols
here. They must remain hidden from his inquisitive eyes—kept out of
sight entirely. The only thing I can think of just now is to take them
with us to the meeting place near the bend of the river.”
The constable paused for a brief moment before he resumed:
“Please listen to me closely. I’m going back to the trading room and
strike up an acquaintance with our friend, Mr. Nichols. I’ll engage him
in conversation for ten or fifteen minutes. That will give you plenty of
time to make your way to the coulee undetected. Wait for five or six
minutes after I go before you leave the loft.”
“When we get to the coulee,” inquired Dick, “we’re to wait for you. Is
that the understanding?”
“Yes,” nodded Pearly, turning to go, “I’ll rejoin you there in half an
hour. I’ll ride my own horse over.”
Without further word, the policeman disappeared through the opening
again, much to the amusement of Sandy.
“He must be tired climbing up and down that ladder,” he grinned. “Is
this the fourth or the fifth time he’s been up here?”
“This is no joking matter,” Dick reproved him. “Sandy, I’ve left my
watch at home. Have you got yours?”
“Yes,” answered Sandy, feeling in his pocket.
“Better hold it in your hand until the time comes for us to slip away
from here.”
Sandy followed out the suggestion with alacrity. Silence fell over the
little party, a silence so deep that Dick could have sworn that he could
hear the faint ticking of his chum’s watch. An interminable period
seemed to have passed before Sandy raised his arm.
“Time to go!” he whispered eagerly.