For nearly an hour, the three jabbered unabatingly in Cree. Dick was able to understand a good deal of what was said. He followed their long, rambling discourse with increasing interest. Here was news indeed! A plot! The eavesdropper caught his breath, felt his pulses leap quickly.
They proposed on the following morning to set out for the warehouse to rescue Murky and the others. But it was more than a mere rescue. It was to be an ambuscade. From different directions they would creep up within rifle range of the policeman and, when the first opportunity presented itself, would riddle his body with bullets. Later on, they would shoot Toma. As soon as Murky had been released, they would recover the fur and travel south.
Then, with a start, Dick heard them mention him. He too would meet the same fate as the others—only much sooner. Was it not a tedious business to drag along a prisoner? Much more simple to dispatch him with a knife or bullet before starting. Anyway, it was no more serious an offense to kill three men than two. The punishment would be the same if they got caught. But that was unthinkable. They would escape easily this time. It would be very simple.
“Is not all this true, brothers?” inquired the chief conspirator.
There came guttural assent. Emphatic nods of confirmation.
“Is there anything to eat in the house of this doddering old spy?” one of the newcomers wished to know.
They proceeded to do this with a celerity that was astonishing. Soon their heavy snoring rumbled across the stillness of the room.
The hours passed slowly, seeming interminable. Dick slept by fits and starts. Once he awoke, conscious of a strange feeling. Had he heard someone moving about? He lay very still, endeavoring to catch the sound again, but although he listened for a long time, it was not repeated. He was almost asleep again when soft footfalls issued from the loft. A faint cushion-like tread, a creak of the ladder, then a vague form groping about the room.
The person, whoever it was, paused and remained perfectly still for several tense moments. Again the soft footfalls. Another pause. The ghostly visitor was getting closer now—almost within reach of Dick’s arm, had he been able to use it. The figure advanced another step; a hand groped forth experimentally. Dick’s heart almost stopped beating. Dark as it was, he caught the gleam of a knife.