AN UNEXPECTED SETBACK
Guided by the sound at the side of the trail, Dick bounded forward to
Sandy’s assistance. In his excitement, he ran straight into a small
sapling with a force that shook the breath from his body. Dazed, he
struck forward again, tearing his face and hands in a thicket of
saskatoon. Desperately, he struggled on.
Faintly outlined in the gloom ahead, he saw two struggling forms. He
drove straight toward them, striking Sandy’s opponent with a jarring
impact. The three went to the ground in a squirming heap. The
half-breed, who was fighting for his life, struck out with arms and legs
like a madman. As Dick’s unguarded left arm swung across his adversary’s
face, the outlaw sank his teeth into it, hanging there very much after
the manner of a bull dog.
A blow in the pit of Sandy’s stomach had put that young man temporarily
out of commission. He lay groaning a few feet away. It was this
sound—more than the excruciating pain he suffered himself—that finally
induced Dick to shake his arm free and scramble dizzily to his knees.
But he got no further. The half-breed’s manacled wrists brought down
with all the strength and force of which he was capable, transferred the
temporary advantage. Dick sat down with a grunt, many brilliant,
multi-colored lights popping before his eyes.
The outlaw pushed himself back, turned on his side and rose hastily to
his feet. He had gone only a few yards, however, when Dick, somewhat
recovered from the effects of the blow, sprang up in hot pursuit. The
race was of short duration. A few moments later, Dick had seized the
stocky runner by the nape of the neck and had jerked him to a sudden
halt.
“Guess you’ll be ready to go back now,” gritted Dick. “Any more of your
funny tricks and I won’t be responsible for what happens. Come on,
now—get going!”
Sandy joined them a moment later. With the prisoner between them, they
soon reached the trail. Toma and the two policemen came hurrying up.
“So he didn’t get away after all!” Sergeant Richardson exclaimed
thankfully. “I’m mighty glad of that. But it’s my own fault. I should
have known better than to give him this chance.”
“Either one of you hurt?” Rand inquired anxiously.
“No,” Dick replied. “We were shaken up a bit—all of us. But we’re ready
to go on now.”
“Corporal Rand will take charge of the prisoner,” Richardson instructed.
“I’ll lead the way alone.”
They pushed on again, following closely and silently the tall figure of
the police sergeant. Without incident, they travelled another quarter of
a mile. Each minute was bringing them closer and closer to the outlaws’
encampment. Unknown dangers lay ahead. Dick’s heart beat quickly at the
thought of what might presently transpire.
A short time afterward Richardson called a halt. He hurried back to
confer with Corporal Rand. Then he came forward to where Dick sat and
announced briefly:
“Settlement Mountain just ahead. Two hundred yards from the outlaws’
cabin. Dismount quickly, tie your horses somewhere near here in the
underbrush. Then come back for further orders.”
The three boys complied hastily. When they returned, the sergeant spoke
again:
“Corporal Rand and I are going forward to investigate. We’ll leave the
prisoner here with you. Under no circumstances are any of you to follow
us. Remain here. We’ll be back as soon as possible.”
Another long wait. The boys stared out fearfully through the darkness.
Their pulses pounded with excitement. Impatiently, they paced back and
forth, scarcely able to endure the suspense. When finally they heard
footsteps approaching, they breathed relievedly.
It was Corporal Rand. He too was excited. When he spoke, his voice was
husky with some deep emotion.
“Richardson’s gone!” he panted.
It was a verbal thunderbolt. The boys jumped.
“What’s that?” Dick and Sandy gasped out in unison.
“Gone, I tell you!” Rand whispered hoarsely. “Gone as completely as if
the earth had swallowed him up. I think they’ve got him. We were walking
along—the sergeant about thirty feet in advance of me—when the thing
happened.”
It seemed incredible. A feeling of horror swept over Dick, while Sandy
stood, shaking like a leaf. A poignant, miserable silence ensued.
“But—but di—did you look for him?” stammered Dick.
“Yes. I looked everywhere. In the darkness, I could see nothing. I dare
not call out for fear the outlaws might be close at hand. Richardson
probably walked straight into the arms of one of La Qua’s sentries, was
struck over the head and then dumped bodily into some thicket. It was a
good thing for me that Richardson had the flashlight. I think I would
have been tempted to use it.”
“Good heavens! What are we going to do?”
Sandy had recovered the use of his vocal organs and now poured out his
plaint—a sort of wail that rang softly through the forest’s stillness.
“First Pearly and now Richardson!” groaned Dick.
“There! There!” Rand attempted to comfort them. “It’s a hard blow, I’ll
admit, but we’ll contrive to get out of this scrape somehow. You boys
will have to help me. I must rely on you. I can’t very well go on with
this thing alone. Are you with me?”
“We are!” Dick and Sandy sang out in chorus.
“And you, Toma?”
“You bet! Fight ’em all same like mad wolf.”
“That’s the spirit. The first thing to do is to find out what has become
of Richardson.”
The five minutes which passed before Rand spoke again seemed like an
eternity to the three young adventurers.
“Sandy will stay here with the prisoner and the ponies. If he attempts
another break for liberty, shoot him on the spot.”
The trembling young Scotchman made no reply.
“Did you hear me, Sandy?”
“Yes, sir.”
“You’ll do as I say?”
“Yes, sir.”
“All right. Now—with regard to my plan: With the exception of Toma,
we’re all heavily armed. Toma, you will take the half-breed’s rifle. The
three of us will set out at once for the outlaws’ cabin, which is
situated about two hundred yards straight ahead of us. Toma will circle
around to the left, Dick to the right, while I will proceed directly
along this trail to the place where Richardson disappeared. Neither one
of you will fire a shot unless cornered—or in self-defense. What I want
to do first of all is to try to find Richardson. If he hasn’t been taken
to the cabin, he won’t be very far from the place I saw him last.
Naturally, he’ll be heavily guarded. In some way we must secure his
release.”
Rand ceased speaking. An unearthly hush had settled around them. Dick
was shaking as if from the ague. Terror gripped him. Thankful he was
that the darkness shadowed his face. He realized that his cheeks must be
ghastly white. In spite of the cold, drops of moisture had gathered on
his forehead. He seemed to be burning up. Like Sandy, he had temporarily
lost the use of his tongue.
“Any questions to ask?” tersed Rand.
“N-n—no,” Dick heard himself stammering.
“Very well then, we’ll start. Remember—no shooting unless it is
absolutely necessary.”
They separated forthwith. Almost immediately Dick was on his way. He
moved cautiously and very slowly. His terror, the choking fear of a few
moments ago, had gone. It was relief to move his limbs. He had become
himself once more, determined to give the very best he had—to meet
danger calmly.
Off to his left he saw the twinkling lights of the cabin. He was getting
closer now; he must be still more careful, more deliberate in his
movements. Perhaps the faintest sound would betray him.
Haunting the deepest shadows, he stole furtively along, treading softly
through the snow—crouching here—hurrying forward there; in one place,
that seemed more exposed to view, creeping forward on hands and knees.
He brought up suddenly, so startled that he nearly emitted a shriek. He
stood perfectly still, his breath catching in his throat. Straight
ahead, scarcely ten feet away, he saw the silhouette of one of La Qua’s
sentries. The man was alone, a rifle slung carelessly over the crook of
his left arm. He paced silently back and forth, occasionally turning his
head in the direction of the cabin.
After a moment’s deliberation, Dick decided to steal past the sentry. At
all cost, he must go on to the cabin. Inch at a time, he wormed his way
ahead, contriving to keep a screen of underbrush between him and his
enemy. Once the sharp crackling of a twig caused his heart to leap in
apprehension. His hands shook. His breath seemed to burn in his throat.
Instinct told him to turn precipitously and take to his heels. With
difficulty was he able to steel himself for the ordeal. He was so close
to the sentry now that he actually believed he could hear the man’s deep
breathing.
For one tense moment he waited, shrinking back in the shadows, not
daring to move. The sentry had turned his head and was looking straight
in his direction. Dick thought that he could see the other’s eyes,
shining like those of a cat in the darkness. Then abruptly his heart
almost stopped beating. For the first time he became aware of another
presence. He perceived now the reason why he had not previously seen the
second outlaw. This person, short in stature—unmistakably an Indian—had
stood with his back against a large spruce, seeming to form a part of
the trunk of the tree. But he had stepped forward now, his body limned
in the half-light, and had stolen over to the right, disappearing behind
the thicket in which Dick himself stood concealed.
Dick was fully conscious of the peril of his position. The Indian was
probably stalking him, as a tiger stalks its prey. Not a moment was to
be lost. He placed one foot gingerly in front of him and started away,
quickening his pace after he had placed a few yards between himself and
the sentry. A very much frightened and trembling young man moved out to
the edge of the clearing which encircled the cabin.
What ought he to do now?