Every one gathered around Toby and the chest.  The Indians were no less excited than were Charley and Toby.  Again the chest was searched, but with no result, until Charley thrust his hand into the cotton bag in which Toby had kept the missing pelt, and drew forth a piece of paper.

“Here’s something!” he exclaimed.  “It’s a note that man wrote and left.”

“Read un!  Read un to me, Charley!” Toby asked, and Charley read: 

“To TOBY TWIG: 

“I forgot to give you credit slip for the silver fox skin before you went to bed.  I may forget to give it to you in the morning, so I will put this in the bag where you will find it.  You may use this as a credit memorandum.  You may have trade goods from my store at White Bear Run to the value of $550.00 at any time you wish to take the goods.

“JACOB MARKS.”

“I didn’t trade he the silver!” Toby protested.  “I’m not wantin’ his goods!  I sold he the otter, and told he the silver was for Dad to sell when he comes home from his path!”

“Of course you didn’t sell it to him,” Charley vouched indignantly.  “He’s a crook!  I knew it right away!  He stole it!  He’s going to try to make out that you sold it to him for five hundred and fifty dollars in trade.”

“I wants the silver back,” said Toby decisively.  “I’ll get un, too!  Come on, Charley, we’ll go for un now.”

“All right, Toby, I’ll help you get it!  We’ll make that fellow hand it over, if we ever catch him,” and Charley meant every word of it.

“What is you lads about?” asked Mrs. Twig anxiously, as Toby and Charley began to change to their traveling moccasins.

“Charley and I’ll be gettin’ the silver back,” said Toby firmly.  “Marks’ll be gettin’ no farther than David Dyson’s to-day, whatever, and Charley and I’ll be catchin’ he by marnin’.  If we don’t we’ll follow he till we does, won’t we, now, Charley?  We’ll be gettin’ the silver.”

“I’ll stick to you, whatever you do,” said Charley.

“You lads can’t be goin’ alone, whatever,” objected Mrs. Twig.

“I’m goin’ to get that silver!” persisted Toby.

“Don’t be hasty, lads.  Ask Amishku what he thinks about un,” suggested Mrs. Twig.  “I’m fearin’ to have you lads go.”

In his excitement Toby had failed to interpret the note to the Indians, nor had he told them of his purpose of following Marks, and they were looking curiously on without understanding the conversation.

When Toby now told them in their own language the contents of the note which Charley had found in the bag, and of his own and Charley’s intention of following Marks and recovering the pelt, and of his mother’s objection, the Indians were interested in behalf of their friends.  They gathered at once in council.  Shortly Amishku turned to Toby, and said: 

“You are our friends and you are in trouble.  We wish to help you.  Your silver fox skin has been stolen, and we will help you find the man that stole it, and get it back for you.  We are on our way to the Hudson’s Bay Company’s Post at Snow Inlet.  At Pinch-In Tickle we must turn north.  The man that stole your fur is from White Bear Run.  That is south.

“This man left here this morning.  He has been traveling all day.  We must go now and travel all night if we overtake him soon.  I will go with you and my brother Maigen will go with you.  You will take my things and my brother’s things on your sledge.  Our three friends will follow to-morrow and bring their flat sleds with their loads.  At Pinch-In Tickle they will wait for us if we are not there before them.  We will leave my brother’s things and my own things at Pinch-In Tickle and go south until we find the man that stole your fur.  Then we will get the fur and come back to Pinch-In Tickle where our friends will be waiting.

“Are you ready?  We must go, and we must travel fast, that we may not lose the man’s trail.”

There was hustle and bustle at once.  Toby and Charley brought in the komatik box that Mrs. Twig might pack in it necessary provisions and other equipment.  The Indians packed their goods upon the komatik, together with the boys’ sleeping bags, and Toby and Charley harnessed the dogs.

All of these preparations required but a few minutes, and when they were ready, and as the boys were leaving, Mrs. Twig plead with Toby to prevent the Indians “hurting the poor man,” even if he would not surrender the fur.

“I’d shoot he myself,” said Toby, “if he wouldn’t give un up.  I would, I’m that self-willed!”

“Don’t be hard on the poor man now,” admonished Mrs. Twig as Toby broke the dogs loose and they dashed away in the starlight.

The ice was firm and with few hummocks, and the snow that covered it was frozen nearly as hard as the ice beneath it.  The dogs made fast progress, taking a steady trotting gait, with Toby and Charley trotting beside the komatik and the two Indians ahead following the trail of Marks to be certain that it did not turn to some other quarter.

This was an adventure indeed for Charley.  He had never before seen Indians other than those exhibited in shows in New York.  But these were different.  They had never tasted civilization.  They were like the Indians that Natty Bumpo knew, and of which Charley had read in Cooper’s tales.  He thrilled with the thought that he was traveling with Indians quite as primitive as those which Henry Hudson met when he first sailed up the river that was named after him.  These, indeed, he was happy to think, might be the descendants of some of those very Indians, still living the untamed, free life of their primordial ancestors.

It was still dark when the komatik drew up before the cabins at Pinch-In Tickle, now grown familiar to Charley.  Here the Indians quickly unloaded the komatik, while Toby and Charley lighted a fire in the stove and put the kettle on to boil; and while Toby fried some fresh caribou steak, the two Indians ran down the trail to assure themselves that Marks had turned to the southward instead of to the northward.

Presently they were back to report that the ice was safe through the tickle, and that Marks had gone, as Toby had expected, southward.

Charley was glad of the opportunity for a short rest, and both boys were hungry.  The moment they had eaten, however, the Indians were on their feet keen for the chase.  The sledge was lightly laden now, and the dogs traveled so rapidly that Charley and Toby were able to ride much of the time, though the Indians ran ahead to keep their eye on the trail.

Presently dawn came, and before they turned into the bay to the southward it was full daylight.  It was at this time that Amishku, who was some distance in advance, held up his hand and signaled Toby to stop.  The two Indians in a moment were lost to view among the boulders that lined the shore, and into which they crept.

“I wonder what’s up?” asked Charley, no little excited by the occurrence.

“I’m not knowin’.  Maybe ’tis some game they sees.  ’Tis not like that Marks would be bidin’ hereabouts.  He sure went on to Dyson’s or Slade’s, whatever,” answered Toby, no less mystified than was Charley.

Not more than fifteen minutes had passed, though it seemed to the boys much longer, when they saw the Indians returning, and when they joined them at the komatik Amishku held out the silver fox pelt to Toby.

“We got the silver fox skin for our friend, and we are glad,” said Amishku, in high good humour.  “The man who stole it will never steal again.”

“You-don’t mean-you-killed him?” asked Toby, suddenly sorry that he had permitted the Indians to come, and so horrified at the thought that the Indians might have done such a thing for him that he could scarcely speak.

“No,” answered Amishku.  “His dogs kill him.  The dogs are there.  The sledge is there.  Not much of the man is there.”

“The gray dog!” exclaimed Toby.

They drove their team nearer to the scene of the tragedy.  A horrible thing met their view, and they quickly turned from it-blood-stained snow, pieces of torn clothing, and other evidences of the tragedy that had taken place.

The gray dog and his mates were still held in leash by their harness, and Toby decided that they should drive on to Aaron Slade’s cabin to tell him what had happened and to ask his assistance.  And when they reached Aaron’s and he had listened to their story, he said: 

“I’ll drive my team over and take care of un, lads.  ’Tis no job for lads like you.”