“In various ways. I could tell you better if I knew exactly what is going to happen. I may not capture Nichols at all; he may capture me. If he does, there is the chance that you may be able to rescue me. It may be that I am wrong too about the outlaws being too astonished to fire at me while I am crossing the clearing. If I am wrong, you may be able to draw their fire and give me a chance to escape.”
Without once faltering, Corporal Rand struck boldly out into the clearing and headed straight for the wharf. His course would take him about forty yards west of the warehouse on the side opposite the door. The outlaws completely encircled the building. Dick thought at first that it was their purpose to unload the furs, placing them in the building, but on second thought, he realized that this would not be the case. With the yacht riding at anchor in the inlet, it stood to reason that the furs would be placed on the landing wharf, thereby saving a second handling. In fact, the corporal had proceeded scarcely twenty feet on his way, when Murky raised one arm as a signal for the pack-train to come closer. Fortunately, no one had as yet noticed the policeman.
Dick was rapidly losing control of his nerves. The tension was terrible. He experienced a feeling similar to that of being smothered under a blanket. His gaze was fairly riveted on the retreating figure. Every step that the corporal took positively hurt him.
He closed his eyes for a moment. He felt dizzy and weak. He could hear Toma’s breathing—choking and asthmatic. He reached out and grabbed convulsively for a branch that drooped down in front of him. A wail of terror issued from his lips. A crash, a puff of smoke! Corporal Rand stumbled a little, as if his toe had caught in some obstruction underfoot. Dick saw Murky wheel in surprise, his hand fumbling at his belt, face white and tense. But Rand had already pulled his gun and though still thirty feet away, he had the drop on his opponent. Murky’s hand and those of the two sailors went up, clawing the air. A few more steps, and Rand stood amongst them.
Murky shrieked out something in Cree, which resulted in immediate confusion around the warehouse. Packers sprang to their ponies, whips cracked—hurried calls and frenzied oaths. Figures darted back and forth as though daft. Presently out of the confusion came some semblance of order. The pack-train started away in full retreat—a retreat that was almost a rout.