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Updated: June 15, 2025
With an oath McCorquodale started towards Kendrick; but he stopped when he saw Phil sitting up, grinning at him cheerfully. At the first move of McIvor's rifle in his direction he had thrown himself flat, disconcerting the man's aim. The detective's bullet, however, had found its mark. Red McIvor lay sprawled grotesquely where he fell. A moment later McCorquodale looked up from his examination.
"Y've said somethin', Goliath," approved McCorquodale with a grin. Inwardly raging, Kendrick crept about, making anxious inventory of their hurts. There was little use in voicing his amazement that they had been fired upon with unmistakable intent to do bodily harm and for such trivial cause.
Wasn't it men of that stamp who became the tools for corrupt practices the boodlers, the heelers who did the actual ballot-stuffing, the personating at the polls, the bribing? Did McCorquodale know of what he spoke? The thought brought with it a sense of disloyalty to his uncle; but the young man forced himself to face the idea seriously.
"Here comes the torchlight parade. Get a wiggle on. Looks like they was goin' to set the woods on fire!" All three sprang to their feet in consternation. For the time being they had forgotten all about the McIvor gang. Kendrick joined McCorquodale on the run.
"I beg your pardon, Miss Lawson," said Phil, "but please say that again." On the heels of the message from President Wade came Detective McCorquodale an hour before sundown. He did not arrive on a train from the east, as expected, but by way of the old Indian trail that wound back for half a mile to Wolverine River, the trail once used by Indian hunters to go north into the game country.
"Instead of the legal papers which were in that satchel when it left this office, there's what we found when Ferguson and I opened it. Now, explain that, will you? No, wait! 'Phone your chief to come over here himself at once; I think he'd better hear what you have to say. What's your name?" "McCorquodale. An' I takes no lip from nobody, see!"
"Wade's got you workin' on that Nickleby dope, aint he?" enquired McCorquodale after the fire was going beneath the kettle to his satisfaction. "He had me moochin' around on it fer a while, but they're a pretty smooth bunch, them fellers, an' I had to quit final." "How was that?" asked Kendrick with interest. "Did they catch you at it?" "Catch me?" repeated McCorquodale with an injured air.
"No, it was gone. I'm pretty certain that Podmore was after it and got here ahead of everybody. Thorlakson hasn't noticed anybody hanging around. It dosn't matter. Did Mr. Wade say anything to you about young Stiles having disappeared? Miss Lawson is greatly worried over the last part of the Chief's message." He passed it across as he spoke. McCorquodale grinned. "Leave it to me, 'bo.
His uncle's reputation as a public man he had been Quixotic enough to take to heart as a personal matter of family honor and, as everyone knows, family honor is a thing to uphold. He had demanded that McCorquodale retract his statement. McCorquodale had refused flatly to do so.
Phil smiled at his host's efforts to reassure him. Certainly there was something so quizzically human about the whimsical McCorquodale that in his presence it was difficult to entertain thought of impending trouble. But as Phil toasted the bread on the end of a stick his mind was busy beneath the surface of his camaraderie.
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