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Updated: June 15, 2025
"What is that?" said Kendrick in a low voice. "It's a new one on me," muttered McCorquodale in an awed tone. "Sounds like an Indian drum. Listen. There it is again." As they advanced the intermittent drumming increased in volume. Presently above the trees they could see a glow in the sky.
He was to report instantly to the president personally if he noted any suspicious characters hanging around and to trail the stranger or strangers without fail. He knew nothing of the reasons for these instructions. He wished all his assignments were "as big a cinch" as this one. Phil knew that McCorquodale was not concocting a yarn and his face showed his anxiety.
And when McCorquodale had proffered a broken cigar Kendrick had accepted it with an uneasy feeling that he had made somewhat of a fool of himself; for Phil was no prig and he found that McCorquodale was a pretty good sort with a certain whimsicality that was not to be denied. He rested his paddle for a moment and floated in the dark, listening.
Now here they were, miles from civilization, heading into the night-obscured depths of the wilderness on an adventure of unknown hazard. And this girl with the wonderful eyes and wonderful hair, wonderful wit and vivacity, wonderful diamond ring on her engagement finger! "Steady, 'bo, steady!" warned McCorquodale. "Take y'r time. We got a lot o' this to do."
Detective McCorquodale departed next with a real cigar between his teeth and a feeling of satisfaction in the recognition that he was no longer a "blithering idiot." Stiles was told to "knock off for the day and go fishin'," and accepted Podmore's five-dollar bill only when it was forced on him. When the trio were alone once more Alderson produced a bottle and three glasses.
"Got a tin box there yep," confirmed McCorquodale as he fed the fire he had started in front of the tent. "I've been here goin' on two weeks an' I figger to make m'self comfortable when I goes fishin'." "Fish much at night?" inquired Kendrick suspiciously. "Yep. Night's best time to catch my kind o' fish," grinned his host.
"You'll be interested in that, then," said Phil as he selected an envelope from the papers which he had spread out to dry by the fire. "Sort o' related, you an' me, by employment," grinned McCorquodale as he passed back the credentials. "I knowed already you was Wade's new secretary. Got a letter from the Chief himself 's mornin', so advisin'. Fine man to work for, Wade is.
"I'd sooner dry off," smiled Phil, pulling at his wet trousers. "Where's this camp of yours?" "Over that way," said McCorquodale, pointing. "We'd better get them boats first, 'fore they drifts too far away." They found them floating close together, down near the point, and McCorquodale undertook to swim out and bring them in.
McCorquodale pretended to accept this information at face value; but if those "birds" knew anything about any "ology" except boozeology he was prepared to swallow his suspenders, buckles and all. Included in their "supplies" were several cases of liquor; McCorquodale knew a case of liquor when he saw it, no matter if it was wrapped in canvas and covered with misleading labels.
"Oh, if only we'd been able to go on that freight that just passed." "We? Instructions are that I'm to wait here for McCorquodale and send you back at once. We'll flag the first train going the right way and you ought to get off by to-night. I'd better get busy and write out a reply to the wire. Mr. McAllister is anxious about your safety and it " "Oh, drat McAllister!" cried Cristy impatiently.
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