THE COUNCIL OF WAR
Breakfast was over and three very sober young men sat down to what Sandy
described as a council of war.
“We must make some sort of a plan right away,” he stated. “First thing
we know Henderson will be here to catch us napping.”
Sandy’s brow wrinkled at the very unpleasant thought.
“Now my proposal is that each one of us make a suggestion. Then the
three of us will consider these suggestions one by one and try to pick
flaws in them. Maybe out of the three suggestions we can build some sort
of working plan.”
“All right, you’re number one,” smiled Dick. “What is your plan?”
Sandy flushed with embarrassment.
“Look here, Dick, not so fast. Give me a little time please. You know
blamed well that I haven’t had an opportunity to think yet.”
“What about you, Toma?”
The Indian guide stirred uneasily and licked his dry lips. From his look
of detachment, it was quite evident that he had been deeply engrossed in
his own thoughts for quite a long time. He stared blankly at Dick.
“What you mean?” he asked.
“We’re trying to think of some way to fool Henderson,” Dick patiently
explained. “What are we going to do, Toma? We can’t sit here all day
just waiting for something to happen.”
“Only way I think of is for me go down trail in direction La Lond’s
house. Bye-’n’-bye when Henderson come, I hide in bush and shoot rifle.
Henderson stop. He not know what to do. Mebbe he think man in bush is
you, Dick. He come after me an’ I keep shoot all time, but all time me I
run very fast. No can catch. I keep lead him away more all time from
this camp.”
Dick and Sandy clapped their hands enthusiastically.
“Very good,” Dick complimented Toma. “Your plan’s so original that I
don’t think we can improve on it.”
“I can improve on it,” boasted Sandy. “You see, Dick there is one weak
spot in his plan. Henderson will be sure to catch sight of Toma, no
matter how careful he is about hiding and shooting from cover. And once
he sees him, he’ll know right away that it isn’t you—because you’re
wearing the uniform of the mounted police.”
“You right,” admitted Toma. “I never thought of that.”
“And so you think that Henderson will realize right away that Toma isn’t
the man he wants, and will keep right on coming?” asked Dick.
“That’s it,” Sandy answered. “Toma may check him, but he won’t stop him.
Henderson will very likely divide his force, sending part of his men
after Toma and the rest down here. It won’t be very difficult for him to
follow the trail the three of us have made.”
“No, of course, it won’t,” agreed Dick.
“There’s only one way to make Toma’s plan absolutely water-tight and
fool-proof,” continued Sandy, “and it’s as simple as A, B, C.”
“Prove it,” challenged Dick. “I guess I don’t understand you.”
“Easy enough,” Sandy enlightened him. “Put your uniform on Toma. That
little trick will work just as well now as it did in the case of the fur
thieves.”
“Whew!” Dick whistled. “Honestly, Sandy, there are moments when you show
indications of real genius. At other times you’re so hopelessly imbecile
that it makes me tremble to think what will become of you.”
“Easy there!” ordered the person both complimented and accused, throwing
a chip at Dick’s head. “You and Toma are nearly the same size. The
uniform will fit well enough for our purposes. If there aren’t any more
suggestions, we’d better get busy.”
In a few minutes more the uniform had again changed hands. Toma put it
on with a feeling of awe and reverence, that was only natural in one
who, since infancy, had been taught to respect and revere the men who
wore it.
“You look fine, Toma,” said Dick, “and I haven’t the least doubt but
that you’ll make a much better mounted policeman than I did.”
“I try be better,” Toma stated simply, which assertion brought a laugh
from Sandy.
“Before you go,” smiled Dick, “I think we’d better have some sort of an
understanding. How far are you going down the trail before you stop to
wait for Henderson, and how long will you wait there if he doesn’t come
along right away?”
“I go down trail about four miles,” answered the guide, “an’ wait until
dark. Him no come at all if no come by dark, I think.”
“I don’t think so either,” Sandy cut in. “You’d better not stay out too
late, Toma. Return as quickly as you can after night comes.”
“Another thing,” Dick spoke again, “I wouldn’t fire at Henderson’s men
until after they had fired at you. Show yourself from a safe distance
and let them do most of the shooting. Besides, you know as well as I do,
Toma, that a real mounted policeman never fires from ambush.”
With the words of his friends still ringing in his ears, Toma crawled
through the narrow opening and a moment later was gone. Dick and Sandy
sat motionless.
“I’d like to be in his shoes,” Sandy finally broke forth, “and I’m sorry
now that I didn’t go along.”
“That would be foolish. Toma can look after himself.”
“But I feel like a fool sitting here and doing nothing.”
“Go out and hunt for some more rabbits,” suggested Dick. “You don’t need
to bother about me. I feel that I am perfectly safe here now. I have a
lot of confidence in Toma and the plan he and you so cleverly worked
out. Why don’t you go, Sandy?”
Sandy opened his clasp-knife and commenced to whittle on a stick.
“I would, only I hate to leave you here alone. It would be pretty
lonesome for you just sitting or lying here with nothing to occupy your
mind.”
“I have plenty of things to think about,” Dick replied. “So don’t let
that worry you. Why don’t you go?” he repeated.
“If I do go, it won’t be on a hunting trip.”
“Why?”
Sandy threw down the stick and put away his hunting knife. He rose to
his feet.
“Do you know, Dick, I keep thinking about that man out there—the one who
was hurt. Do you suppose that—that something has happened to him?”
“I’ve been thinking about him too,” Dick confessed. “It’s terrible,
isn’t it, Sandy?” He paused as he drew himself to a more upright
position. “But I imagine,” he continued hopelessly, “that he’s beyond
help now. Toma said that he wouldn’t go very far.”
Sandy strode forward and put one hand on Dick’s head.
“Do you suppose, Dick——” he began, then paused abruptly.
Smiling, Dick looked up.
“I know what you are going to say, Sandy. You feel that it’s our duty to
try and do something. But you are hesitating on my account. You’d like
to follow those tracks and see if you can find the man.” Dick seized
Sandy’s hand and gave it a re-assuring squeeze. “It’s exactly what I
hoped you’d want to do. Hop to it, Sandy.”
“I’ll return before dark,” promised the other, his face lighting up with
pleasure.
“Don’t get lost,” cautioned Dick.
“Of course, I won’t. I have a better sense of direction than I used to
have, and I’m a lot more careful too.”
Sandy stooped down and picked up his shoulder-pack. He was eager now and
worked hurriedly assembling his kit.
“Take two or three days’ rations with you,” Dick ordered. “You never can
tell what will happen.”
Sandy complied willingly enough. He turned to bid Dick good-bye.
“Don’t worry about me,” he said cheerfully. “I’ll be all right. I’ll
return safe and sound, depend on that.”
Then, almost before he realized it, Dick was alone. He sat staring at
the green, thatched walls of his little prison, disconsolately kicking,
with his uninjured foot, at the tangled mat of moss and dead leaves at
the side of his bed. Hours would pass before either of his two friends
would return. The day would drag itself along, seeming never to come to
an end. If there was only something he could do to make time slip away
more quickly.
For an hour or more, he cleaned and polished his rifle, pausing now and
again to crawl over and put a stick of wood on the fire. By carefully
conserving the wood, which Toma and Sandy had gathered on the previous
night, there would be sufficient to last for quite a long time.
A little later, putting down his rifle, his gaze fell upon the two
rabbits and ptarmigan Toma had brought in. The one rabbit, which Sandy
had killed, they had eaten for breakfast. Securing his hunting knife,
Dick worked his way across the tepee and commenced to skin and dress the
game they had been so fortunate in obtaining.
Having completed this task, Dick went to the opening for snow, which he
melted in a kettle over the fire. It was necessary to make many of these
trips before he had sufficient water for drinking purposes and for the
rabbit-stew he had decided upon. Thus occupied, he contrived to keep
himself in a cheerful frame of mind. Staying here alone was not really
as monotonous as he had expected.
After he had prepared a light lunch and had drunk several cups of tea,
he retired to his bunk and soon fell asleep. When he awoke, it was with
the consciousness of being chilly and uncomfortable. Turning his head,
he perceived, with a start, that the fire had gone out. It was now quite
dark inside the tepee, and looking up he was astonished to see several
stars peeping down at him through the smoke-vent.
“I must have slept a long time,” thought Dick, scrambling to a sitting
position and preparing to crawl over to rekindle the fire.
In a few minutes a bright blaze sprang up under his hand and in a few
minutes more, piling on brush and sticks, he had driven the chill from
the room. He was in the act of placing the rabbit-stew over the fire,
when the blanket, covering the opening, was pushed unceremoniously aside
and Toma entered.
“Hello, you old rascal!” shouted Dick. “This is luck. You made a quick
trip of it.”
Toma grinned broadly as he approached the fire and commenced to remove
his parka and coat.
“Plan work fine,” he informed him. “Me fool Henderson good an’ plenty, I
guess. Make ’em run all through woods try and catch me. Shoot plenty of
rifles an’ make big noise. Bye-’n’-bye I give ’em slip an’ come back
here.”
“You’re a trump!” exulted his hearer. “I knew you could do it.”
“Henderson him plenty sick by now,” chuckled Toma. “Go home like mad
grizzly ’cause he no find mounted police.”
The Indian guide stood for a moment, warming his hands over the fire.
“Where Sandy go?” he suddenly asked.
Dick flushed slightly under the direct, searching scrutiny. The truth
was, he felt a little guilty about Sandy. After all, perhaps, he should
not have permitted his friend to go.
“I’ll tell you about it,” said Dick, which he proceeded to do, wondering
what Toma would say.
When Dick had concluded, the guide stood for several minutes silently
contemplating the leaping flames at his feet. His face was
expressionless—neither sober nor gay.
“No like,” he declared finally, shaking his head. “No like Sandy go away
alone. Him more young me an’ you. Him little fellow. No stand much.
Mebbe get lost.”
“No,” said Dick, endeavoring to reassure the young Indian and likewise
himself, “Sandy will be perfectly all right. We don’t need to worry.”
But, as a matter of fact, both of them did worry. They ate supper in a
gloomy mood, straining their ears for the sound of a familiar step. The
hours passed, and still Sandy did not appear. When midnight came, Dick,
nearly frantic, raised his head from his pillow, deciding to sit up.
“He no come yet,” said Toma in a hushed voice.
Somewhere, fairly close at hand, they heard the howling of a wolf.
It was the only sound which, for many long hours, had broken the deep
silence of the forest.