CHAPTER IX
THE BOYS LOSE AN ALLY
The words of Howells stunned the boys for a moment. Then Garry delivered himself of a few vehement words regarding the thieves.
“We have been here only a couple of days or so, and yet we find that this logging camp is a hive of rascals and thieves. And still we have done nothing. We must get to work and nip this thing in the bud, else the whole summer’s work at the camp here will have gone for naught, to say nothing of the irreparable financial loss that will be caused to Dad, not only from the penalties for failure to live up to his contracts, but the money loss from the stolen timber will mount up well into the hundreds I am afraid. Now we must put a stop to this thing. I believe that I will go out tomorrow and go to town and ’phone Father that he had better make a cleanup here at the camp. Perhaps we don’t know just who the guilty parties are, but if we get rid of the whole shooting match we can stop it. How much timber would you estimate has been stolen?” he concluded, turning to Howells.
“I can’t say as to that. This last report is the only one that I have received direct. Generally I have been given what was supposed to be a duplicate copy of the one sent to Barrows. This time I happened to get the mail myself at the postoffice. Generally one of Barrow’s men gets the mail, and it is distributed. This letter was addressed to me personally, and I have no doubt that the others were also, but were opened and doctored up to appear all right. That’s a prime bit of evidence if we can secure the proof. Tampering with Uncle Sam’s mail is a serious crime, and draws a long prison term. Now as for your going out of the woods tomorrow and ’phoning your father, Garry, I would advise against it. Nothing very serious can happen in the next few days. Little work can be done until a new saw comes, and there will be little shipping of timber except that which has been waiting to be transported. In the meantime, if, as your father is led to believe, this whole matter is a move on the part of the big interests to crush him in the lumber business, the firing of the present manager and crew will have little effect. Your dad evidently trusted Barrows, else he would not have sent him here. If he is guilty, you may be sure that the enemy, for such we must call them, made it mighty well worth his while to turn traitor. What is to prevent the next manager from being affected in the same way? And even if a trustworthy manager were secured, the big interests can always bribe enough of the laborers to do all the necessary damage that would be required to spoil the season. My advice is to lay low for a few days and get evidence that will get the ‘man higher up,’ the one who is the instigator of this whole thing. Once you can spike his guns, there will be no further danger of trouble here, and also it will enable your father to take court action that will restore him damages for the stolen timber, and will also give him a chance to sue those who have harmed him so that he can make the penalties that will be inflicted in case enough damage has already been done to make him forfeit his contracts. I should say now that he was a good three weeks behind his shipments, and that is a whole lot in one season. He has guaranteed to deliver a certain amount of timber at its destination by the last of September. It is the middle of August now, and he must make every minute count from now on to get out the required amount. Get the man responsible for this business and you will have accomplished what you have set out to. What do you think of my advice?”
“Sounds logical, and I think we will follow it. In the meantime I have a hunch now in regard to that stolen timber. I think I can hitch up a few things Barrows has tried to dissuade us from doing, and a certain lake in this vicinity. That’s our next work. Now what do you propose to do, Mr. Howells?” asked Garry.
“First thing I’m going to do is to go straight to Barrows and tell him about the deficiency shown by the records. That will do one of two things, I believe; either show him up for a crook, or else show that he is straight and start him investigating the thefts. If the latter happens, which I am frank to say I do not think will, then we have accomplished a great deal of good.”
Howells, however, had barely finished speaking, when the red haired cookee appeared at the shack and told him that Barrows wanted to see him at the camp office immediately.
Having delivered the message, the cookee sauntered off, and Howells looked at the boys with a puzzled stare.
“Wonder what’s up now. Thought that we talked over everything there was a little while ago. Well, there’s no use in wondering. I’m off to see his Royal Highness and find out what he wants. I’ll see you after a little while.”
Howells hustled off to the office and left the boys to talk things over among themselves.
“What did you mean, Garry, when you said that you had a hunch about lakes and things?” inquired Phil.
“Why, you remember how insistent Barrows has been that we make a sort of playground out of the little lake, setting forth its advantages about swimming, fishing and all that, and has done everything that he can do to discourage us from going near the big lake. I have let him believe that we took everything he said for granted, so I thought that tonight, if possible, we would make a trip to the big lake and see what’s what,” Garry answered.
“I’m wondering if Barrows is clever enough to play the old trick used by conjurers and magicians?” mused Phil.
“What do you mean, magician?” queried Garry with a puzzled look at his friend.
“Why, you know a magician always directs the attention of his audience to the thing that he is generally going to do, figuring that the people will be on the watch for a trick, and will be so busy trying to find the hidden trick, that they look everywhere but where the magician tells ’em to, and in the meantime he has done his trick.”
“I see,” exclaimed Garry. “You mean that Barrows may figure that we will guess he has been discouraging us about the big lake for the very purpose of making us go there rather than to the smaller body of water, where some sort of villainy may be going on.”
“That’s it exactly,” returned Phil.
“I think you have a good hunch there, Phil, although I rather think that Barrows is not clever enough to dope out that trick. Still, there can be no harm in watching both lakes. Suppose that we take a little trip today to the small one, and then tomorrow night we will hustle over to the big one after the camp has turned in for the night. Guess that will be our best plan. Now let’s wait for Barrows and Howells to finish their conversation, and we will trot over while I ask a few leading questions.”
They waited a few minutes, talking over their probable course of action, and were about to set out for the office, when Howells appeared on the scene. Rage and disappointment were depicted in his face, and the boys were quick to take notice of this.
“What’s the matter? You look as though you had bad news to bring us,” said Garry.
“Well, it’s bad news for me, at any rate, and I think also for you. I believe I have proof enough that Barrows is a crook from the word go. I have been discharged from my job as cruiser and scaler and ordered to leave the place immediately.”
“Why, I can hardly believe you, what’s it all about?” asked Phil.
“Well, it’s a short story. I had hardly gotten inside the office, when Barrows told me I was through. Naturally all other thoughts left my head, that is about my errand, and I asked him why. He replied that when he hired me he thought he was getting an accurate scaler, and that the reports showed that the amount of timber I had reported was cut had not been delivered. Immediately I knew that he was on to the fact that I was aware of the shortage and was spiking my guns before I could do or say anything. Now I know that I have accurately measured all the timber that was cut in this tract. I was at school long enough to learn how to scale if I never learned anything else. Of course we had words, and I forgot myself and accused him of knowing that timber was disappearing, and he was covering up by throwing the blame on me. Of course there was nothing that I could do, so I told him a few wholesome truths and walked out of the office.”
“Then that definitely settles Barrows’ status here,” said Garry. “He knows that timber is being stolen, and he wants to cover it up. I hope you did not connect us in any way with you while you were telling Barrows what you thought of him, did you Art?”
“You bet I didn’t. I kept my head that much, at any rate.”
“Well, we have lost a valuable ally since you must go away. I suppose, though, we could hire you as a guide and keep you here. Barrows could make no objection then,” said Garry.
“No, that would be the worst thing that you could do. It would put Barrows on his guard, for he would immediately leap to the conclusion that I had told you everything. No, the wisest thing for me to do is to hop out and go back to town. Then in a few days I could get back here and see what I could dig up in the way of stolen timber. I think the most advisable thing to do would be to find out from some of the railway stations near here where timber is being shipped from, and in that way we could get a line on where it is going. Then you chaps on the inside can browse about a bit and find out how it is stolen. Between us we can secure evidence that will uncover the whole plot. I’m going out now, before they get onto the fact that we have had time to talk things over. In the meantime, take my advice, and keep your eyes open every minute. Eternal vigilance on your part is going to be the price of success. Not that I believe any harm will come to you. Barrows would not dare attempt that; but he could move so stealthily that you could not find out anything. Now I’ll say goodbye and trot along. Good luck to you, and I will contrive some way to get word to you of what is going on.”
Howells shook hands with the boys, and then loped off to get his dunnage. The boys watched his departure sadly, for they had counted a great deal on the help that the young timberman could give them.
“Well, fellows, that puts it directly up to us again. We will have to work on our own hook and get to the bottom of this. Now let’s have action. Tomorrow morning—it is too late now to do anything—we will take a little trip to the small lake, Kanamo Lake I think they call it; Dutton is the name of the big one, and start our search there. We will simply say that we are going off for some fishing and swimming. Now we’ll go to the office, and remember, not a word about knowing that Howells was discharged.” And concluding his talk, Garry led the way to the office.
Barrows watched them narrowly as they came in, but said nothing.
“Thought we’d get a little information about Kanamo Lake,” said Phil, as they seated themselves.
“Yes,” chimed in Garry. “We are going off there early tomorrow and have a little fishing and perhaps a swim or two. We haven’t done anything since we got here but watch the timber cutting, and that isn’t a novelty any longer. What we especially want to find out is whether there is any canoe or boat on either of the lakes that we could use to get some really good fishing.”
“There isn’t a boat or canoe of any sort on either Dutton or Kanamo,” answered the manager. “But you will find that will not interfere with your fishing. Part of the banks are well covered with reeds, and early in the morning and after the sun has gone down you can catch a fine mess of pickerel. Throughout the day the bass can be caught from the bank if you boys are any hand at making a good long cast. I suppose as soon as the timber cutting is done, the tourists will begin to swarm here for summer camping, and then there will be plenty of boats and few fish. That’s generally the way.” The manager talked heartily as though relieved that the conversation had taken the turn that it had, and perhaps because of the information that the boys were going to get away from the camp. It was likely that he had expected some questioning because of the discharge of the scaler. Evidently thinking over the matter, he decided something in his mind, and turning to Garry, remarked casually: “I had hoped that the arrival of the scaler would give me a little extra time so that I could do some fishing with you and act as guide around here, but I regret to say that I found him incompetent and was obliged to discharge him. He was careless about his measurements, or else did not know how to measure properly, and all our records are messed up so that it will take me several days to get them straightened out. Fortunately I know pretty well what’s been shipped and can check against the bills of lading. Well, there goes the cook’s supper call.”
Following supper, the boys made excuses that they wanted to get their fishing tackle in order and retired early to their shack. They got to sleep early, as they expected a strenuous day on the morrow, and also hoped to be able to make a trip to Dutton Lake at night, hence wanted sleep.
Just as they were undressing, Dick uttered an exclamation of disgust.
“What’s the matter, Dick, lose a button?” inquired Phil.
“No, confound it, lost that nice knife with my name on it that I bought in Bangor.”
“That’s too bad, lost your nice toy. Well, you should worry, as you have your sensible scout knife that will cut even if it hasn’t a nice name on it,” laughed Phil.
Early morning found them routed out with the dawn, and as they hurried for the cookhouse to get some supplies with which to cook a luncheon at the lake, they heard the cook and his helper talking about some marauder that had been captured the night before and was locked up in the storehouse.
Neither seemed to know much about it, but the boys could see that the cookee was on tenterhooks, and several times tried to get out, only to be called by the cook and set to doing some necessary task toward the getting of breakfast. This uneasiness on the part of the cookee made the boys think that possibly Baptiste LeBlanc had been caught, and decided that when they had eaten they would have a look at the prisoner.
Barrows appeared when they were half way through breakfast, and the chums at once began to question him regarding the capture of the unknown man and what he might have wanted there.
“Perhaps he is the one who has been causing a lot of trouble around here,” said Barrows. “I haven’t seen him yet. Couple of the men found him snooping around the office last night, and after locking him up, woke me up and told me about him. After I eat I am going to question him, and if you want to get a little later start on your fishing trip, you can come and take a look at him.”
This was exactly what the boys wanted, and they thanked Barrows for the invitation. They made a hurried meal, and then after Barrows had posted the notices for the section bosses for the day, they went to the storehouse, which was the most solid looking building in the camp, being built of great logs with a thick double hasp and padlocks on the door. Inside were kept the cooking supplies for the camp.
The manager produced a key, and throwing open the door, called to the prisoner to come out.
The three chums pressed forward eagerly to see if they were right in their guess that LeBlanc or his evil associate had been captured.
What they did finally see nearly knocked them off their feet. There was a shuffling sound as of some one getting up, and then through the door into the sunlight, walked The Hermit!
CHAPTER X
THE FIRST HIKE
It was nearly a minute before the boys could find their tongues. The hermit stood there blinking in the sunlight, for it had been pitch black inside of the storehouse.
Finally Garry shouted:
“Hello, Hermit. Where did you come from?”
Barrows stared at the boys in surprise.
“Do you know this man?” he asked sharply.
“Of course we do,” replied the boys, almost simultaneously. “It isn’t so long ago that he was of great aid to us in our work on the fire patrol,” added Garry. Immediately he could have kicked himself, for he had by this statement let Barrows know that the man might be of help to them again.
“What are you trying to do around here?” snapped Barrows, turning to the hermit. “Trying to steal something, or set fire to the camp or something of that sort?”
“That will be just about enough, Mr. Barrows,” interrupted Garry. “We happen to know this old man, and I’ll vouch for him personally. It is probable that he came here to visit us, and was wandering about when your men, naturally thinking him to be a marauder, seized him. You can take my word for it that he’s all right.”
Barrows evidently resented the way in which Garry had spoken to him. “I think I am the best judge of what to do in this camp, young man. I am not satisfied with his presence here, and it is my intention to have him taken to town and lodged in jail there until I find out what’s at the bottom of the broken saws and such occurrences in the camp.”
“Now just one moment, Barrows,” said Garry with a determined ring in his voice, and a snap in his eyes that boded little good for Barrows. “I am not one who will naturally trade on his being the son of the man who owns this camp, but I give you ample warning that if my word is doubted in this matter, and this old man, who is as harmless as a rabbit, is not freed immediately, I will go to town this morning and take steps that will cause your instant removal from this camp. I have never asked my father to back me in anything that I was not absolutely sure of, and you can rely on the fact that he will take my word in this case, knowing me as he does. Now Mr. Barrows, you may take your choice in this matter and decide quickly.”
The manager hesitated a moment, evidently trying to decide just who had the upper hand in the situation. Seeing this, Garry turned to Phil and Dick, and said:
“Boys, go pack up your dunnage and get ready to leave in fifteen minutes.”
The two chums turned on their heels without a word, and were starting for the shack when Barrows, seeing that he was beaten, called:
“Never mind, boys, the old man will go free this minute.”
He said it with a bad grace, and the glances that he covertly cast at the boys showed that he was enraged at the turn affairs had taken. What made him still angrier was the fact that the cook and two or three men had gathered around and seen him come out second best in the battle of words.
He determined to make the best of a bad situation.
“I am afraid that I spoke a little too hastily in this thing,” he said, coming closer to Garry. “I want you to remember that I am always trying to protect your father’s interests here; that is what he pays me for, and I thought that there might be something peculiar in this chap’s showing up here in the dead of night.”
Garry, having won his point, and for the sake of future peace and freedom from interference, resolved to mollify the manager.
“That’s all right, Mr. Barrows. Only I want to tell you this,” and here Garry lowered his voice: “The old chap is mentally unbalanced, and it was largely for that reason that I did not want him to be annoyed. He lives near a tract of wild land where we patrolled early this summer, and was very decent to us, tanning skins of animals that we shot, and leaving us rabbits for eating. It is a pet trick of his to wander about at night, and appear very mysteriously, and as I propose to have him stay with us a few days, I wish you would pass the word that he is afflicted and caution the men not to tease or annoy him.”
Barrows assented grudgingly and then marched off to the office.
Left alone with the hermit, for the cook and the others had departed for their customary tasks, the boys eagerly asked the hermit what he meant by his note, and if he had anything to tell them.
“I didn’t mean to get caught,” he said. “I know what you boys are here for. Nate told me a little and I can make two and two equal four. I was creeping through the woods last night to come and leave a letter for you, when I heard some men talking, and crept up to listen to them. They were just getting ready to leave and all I heard was a man saying that his brother would soon be there and that he would know how to deal with those spies. I couldn’t get a good look at the man, but he spoke with an accent, and was a heavy, strongly built man. That’s what I was going to write to you, for I believe you are the ones that the men in the secret meeting meant when they referred to spies.”
The boys looked aghast at each other when they heard the concluding words of their friend the hermit. At once the same thought leaped into the minds of all three. Man with an accent, heavily built and strong appearing. Brother was coming to help him. All put together it meant only one thing, and that was voiced by Dick.
“Jean LeBlanc!”
The others echoed the name of their Nemesis after Dick.
“What’s that, did you speak of LeBlanc?” inquired the hermit.
“That’s just what we did,” replied Garry grimly. “That man you described, unless we are very badly mistaken, was Baptiste, a brother of Jean. And if Jean is on the way, we must guard ourselves every minute. And we must make every moment count, for once he gets here he will make strenuous efforts to get us in trouble, if not on his own hook, then in cahoots with Barrows. Now let’s break for the small lake. Suppose you stay with us a few days, Hermit, and help us in our work.”
“No, that would not be good tactics,” was the reply of the hermit. “It would cause trouble to you boys with that man who wished me lodged in durance vile.”
As was usual, the words of the hermit were anything but those that would be naturally used by a man that had lived the greater part of his life in the deep woods, far removed from all human beings. But the aged hermit was always surprising them, if not by his talk, by his unusual actions.
Garry had often thought that the old man was wise in his conclusions, so he asked what could be suggested.
“I would say that you should go to the manager and tell him that I had been offended by my reception and consequently had refused to stay and visit you, going off in a huff. Then that will give me a chance to return to the forest and watch for the coming of LeBlanc. I will guarantee that I will not be captured again. I was too sure of myself last night, since I did not know that the camp was full of night spies, who held rendezvous in the dark of the night. I will warn you in the usual way if LeBlanc approaches. In the meantime, my instinct tells me that the man with whom you quarreled, Garry, is not to be trusted. Watch him. Now I will go if you will give me some food to carry with me for breakfast. I am hungry.”
“There’s one thing I wish you would do first, Hermit,” said Garry, calling him by the only name they knew, and which appeared to please rather than offend the old recluse, “and that is go to the nearest town and mail a letter for us. There is no one in the camp now that I would trust with a message, and none of us who could get away. I should have thought to do it yesterday when Howells left, but forgot it in the excitement of his being discharged.”
Borrowing Dick’s ever ready notebook, Garry scribbled off a brief note to his father, advising him to check carefully the shipments of timber, and telling him in guarded words, that he had several clues that properly trailed down would soon lead to the unmasking of the traitors in the camp. He folded the note and gave the hermit money with which to buy a stamped envelope, and on another leaf of paper wrote the address to which the note should be sent.
This the hermit promised to do at the earliest possible opportunity. He then proposed that they walk a few hundred yards out of the camp with him, so that they might select a spot where notes could be left without his having to penetrate the dangers of the camp at night.
This the boys agreed to do, and after a brisk walk selected a tree with a hollow, half concealed in it, and established that as the “postoffice.” The hermit then took up his journey, while the boys returned to the office to tell the manager, as they had agreed to do, about the hermit’s leaving. When Barrows heard their story he seemed relieved and was apparently only too anxious to ingratiate himself with the boys again, for he realized that he had overstepped the mark a bit in his words with Garry a short time previous.
“You should have brought the old chap back, and perhaps I could have persuaded him that it was all a mistake,” but the boys were quick to detect the false ring in his tone.
“Now we are off to Kanamo Lake for our delayed fishing trip, and so that you may not get uneasy if we do not return by nightfall, let us tell you that we are used to making camp wherever we happen to be, and so will be all right. I only wish there was a canoe on the lake, and we would take a three or four-day hike, canoeing from spot to spot on the lake, and camping wherever we saw fit,” concluded Garry.
“Sorry there isn’t. You might make a flatboat out of some lumber, but there is nothing with which to calk the seams, and the task of dragging the lumber to the water would be almost too much to bother with for the short time that you are going to stay here,” replied Barrows.
As the boys set out on their seven-mile hike to the lake, they discussed the way in which Barrows was continually bringing into the conversation the suggestion that they were not going to stay very long.
“I wonder if that is a warning unintentionally given, or is the wish just father to the thought?” asked Garry. “I don’t remember ever saying anything to Barrows about the length of time that we intended to spend here.”
“Maybe it is just the wish coming to surface as you say. At any rate, let’s not worry about that for awhile. We will have bridges enough to cross when we come to them.”
The chums pursued their way through the fragrant woods, spicy with the smell of pine and balsam. Occasionally they heard the whirr of wings as a covey of grouse or partridge, frightened at the sound of approaching footsteps, took wing and flew away from the cover where they had been hiding. The sound of the birds brought to the minds of the trio the sad thought of the missing Sandy, for he had the canine instinct of most dogs to flush a bird. He had so often hunted with the boys that they had taught him to retrieve a bird as does a regular pointer or hunting dog.
“Tell you what we’ll do when we get back to the camp tonight,” announced Phil. “We’ll offer a reward for the finding of Sandy. I think myself that some of the lumberjacks, perhaps that chap that took us coon hunting, recognized the value of Sandy and stole him, determined to sell him and make a few dishonest dollars. Sandy is worth more to us than many people would want to pay for him, and I think if we offered a big enough reward we might get him back.”
This was agreed on by the boys, and chatting merrily of many things, they trekked through the forest to the lake.
They took turns setting the pace and so made brisk time, even Dick keeping up without grumbling, although there was no circus at the end of the trail to lure him on to greater speed. However, Dick smelled adventure in the air, and hence all his seemingly lazy ways dropped and he dug to the trail as if his life depended on it.
Soon they reached the lake, which lay like a jewel in the midst of the forest. For the most part it was surrounded by trees, thick and green. At the end of the trail was a slightly open spot, and a stretch of sandy beach that seemed to beckon the boys irresistibly.
“Let’s take a short dip before we start exploring. I haven’t had a swim for days, and I think it would do us all a lot of good.” Garry had been sweeping the edges of the lake with his field glasses, which he had brought along, and could see nothing other than an unbroken expanse of forest. Far down at the end of the lake was a slight opening which Garry judged was the outlet of the lake, although since he had not consulted a map, he could not tell much about it as regarded its direction and size.
The others were also of Garry’s opinion, and Phil then came to bat with another suggestion.
“We must do a little fishing, also; for if we go back empty handed from a lake that is supposed to be filled with fish, we are apt to excite suspicion in the mind of Barrows, and set him asking us questions as to what we did while we were away. We don’t need to spend the whole day at it, just catch a decent mess and quit.”
“Right you are, Phil,” answered Garry. “Now for a swim, and last man in is no good.”
The boys ripped off their clothes, and so used were they to speedy disrobing, that all hit the water with almost the same splash.
“See that spot up the bank about three hundred yards, where the ground begins to rise?” inquired Dick, as he splashed about in the water. “Bet you fellows anything I’ve got against anything you have that I can give you chaps ten yards’ start and then beat you there.”
“Well, you sure thing artist, splash him good, Phil,” shouted Garry, for Dick was an expert swimmer, much better than either of the others, although they were not unskilled in the aquatic art.
Dick was thoroughly splashed, and with two against one, was soon forced to holler quits.
“Tell you what I’m going to do; I’m going to swim up to that place and back, anyway. You fellows can come or not, as you please,” and with a long, sweeping, underhand stroke, his head almost buried in the water, Dick sped away. The remaining two contented themselves with paddling about and noting the clearness of the water and the fine sandy bottom. They got a stone and amused themselves by throwing it some distance and then swimming under water after it and recovering it. They had been doing this for some moments, when suddenly Garry, thinking that Dick, with his speed, had been gone long enough to have done that distance twice over, began to worry a bit, and called Phil’s attention to the lapse of time. They decided to swim up there and seek their missing comrade, who, although they had perfect faith in his prowess as a swimmer, might easily have been overtaken with a cramp, and met with disaster.
It was generally a rule that they keep an eye on each other in the water, and it was a strict regulation that a call for help be never made in jest.
“Let’s go,” called Garry, and away they started. They had made less than fifty yards, when borne on the breeze came the sound of Dick’s voice.
Garry stopped swimming for a moment, and began to tread water, while he looked toward the spot that had been Dick’s goal when he swam away. Dick could be seen standing on the bank beckoning wildly to them.
CHAPTER XI
A LUCKY FIND
“Guess it’s nothing serious, Garry,” said Phil, who had followed Garry’s lead and stopped swimming long enough to see what the cause of the call was. “It looks as though he had made a discovery of some sort.”
The chums put on an extra burst of speed, and soon had reached the spot where Dick was standing.
“What’s all the commotion about?” inquired Garry half breathlessly, as they clambered up on to the bank. “We thought you were calling for help.”
“I am truly sorry I frightened you, but I just found something that we may need before our stay at the camp is done,” and Dick led the way into the woods for a few feet. “I got out on the bank to rest a bit, and thought I saw signs of a camp having been here at one time or another, so I nosed around and tucked away in the brush I found this,” and displacing some of the debris that had fallen around the object, Dick disclosed a birch-bark canoe, made after Indian fashion.
“I should say that was a find,” exclaimed Garry. “Now we can do all the exploring around here that we want to, and if we find nothing here we can portage the canoe across the woods to Dutton Lake and continue our investigation.”
They were disappointed, however, for on dragging out the canoe, they found that a great hole had been torn in the bottom.
“Now wouldn’t that jar you. I wish I had looked at it more carefully before I called to you,” said Dick in a disappointed tone.
“Let your Uncle Dudley take a look,” ordered Garry. After a few moment’s investigation, he straightened up. “It can be repaired easily with what simple tools we have and a little help from old Mother Nature. Our only trouble will be a swim of about four miles. Two across to the point that I noted when I looked through my glasses, and two back to where we want to do our work, which had better be here.”
“I think I begin to see faint glimmerings of what you intend to do,” said Phil, as he scanned the end of the lake that came within his vision. Phil had abnormally keen eyes, and could often see things that the other boys required a glass to discern.
“Well, Sherlock, what do I intend to do?” asked Garry with a laugh.
“It seems to me, if my eyes don’t fail me, that I can see a sort of a white clump of woods about two miles distant, at least the sunshine casts a brighter glare than it does on the green of the pines and spruces. Now to me that spells b-i-r-c-h. Am I right?”
“Right again. That’s just what I have in mind. Let’s start. We ought to be able to have a fine canoe by noon if we don’t loiter.”
They swam back to where they had left their clothes, and it was decided that Phil should stay behind to guard their clothes, packs and rifles. Garry got his hatchet and sheath off his belt, and tucked his knife safely into the sheath of the axe blade. Then by knotting two of the bandanna handkerchiefs that they customarily wore about their necks, he made a sort of a strap affair and tied the axe securely on his back between his shoulder blades. This left his arms perfectly free for swimming, and then he and Dick set out with easy strokes for their destination across the lake. They took plenty of time and occasionally rolled over to float on their backs so that they could rest. At last, after several resting spells, which were mainly for Garry’s benefit, as Dick could have done the whole distance without fatiguing himself in the slightest, they reached the clump of birches.
Resting a few moments on the bank, they proceeded to strip a good section of bark from one of the birches. This was a simple matter, as all that was necessary to do was to cut a girdle around the tree a few inches from the bottom, and another about three feet above. Then a vertical cut was made between the two girdles, and after about twenty minutes of prying the bark from the trunk with the knife, the two taking turns at the task, they had the roll of bark neatly cut off.
“Now if we could only find a swampy place around here where there would be some tamarack trees, we could get a couple of the crooked roots for which the tamarack is noted, and that would furnish us with a rib for the canoe. As it is, we will have to makeshift with that twisted birch branch that I see, which Nature seemed to have put there for our particular use today,” and Garry proceeded to get the branch as he spoke.
“We can roll this up and tie it with a strip of handkerchief, and push it along with us on the return swim. Then it will be a small job to repair the canoe.”
“What are you going to use to attach it to the bottom of the canoe where it is broken,” asked Dick.
“I have something in my knapsack. For some reason or other, while in Bangor, I bought a ball of extra fine linen cord, and one day while we were in the woods at Sourdehunq I needed some shoemaker’s wax, and didn’t have it, so last time we were in town I bought a piece. I never expected to use it to repair a boat with, however, just bought the stuff in case an occasion arose where we might need it. Now it will come in handy,” and as he finished, Garry slipped back into the water. The return trip occupied somewhat longer, as the bark was a bit unwieldy as they pushed it ahead of them.
When they returned to the spot where they had left Phil, the sun was almost in the center of the sky, denoting it was near noon. They found that Phil had improved the time while they were absent and had started a fire and caught several good bass.
“Best fishing here I ever saw. I don’t believe a line has been thrown in this patch of water for years, the fish just jump at the bait,” shouted Phil with the true Isaac Walton enthusiasm.
“I also got a couple of pickerel that were so foolish as to leap at my bait, and have enough for dinner and some to take back to the camp with us tonight.”
All were so eager to get at the business of fixing the boat, that they hurried through lunch with extra speed. Then they sped through the woods to the spot where the old canoe had been found.
As Garry prepared to repair the boat, he began to laugh at something that seemed to be amusing him greatly.
“Let us in on the joke,” asked Phil. “You are grinning there to yourself like a Cheshire cat.”
“I was just thinking that either Barrows is a fool or takes us for brainless idiots. The idea of telling us that there was nothing in the camp with which a boat could be calked, and there are only some hundreds of square miles in the state just full of the finest thing in the world. Nothing more than the pitch on the pine trees all around us.”
“I noticed it this morning when the manager remarked about it, but thought it just as well to keep my knowledge to myself,” remarked Dick.
“All right, then, you fellows set to work with your knives and dig a lot of those pitch lumps off the trees and then start a fire and melt it in your drinking cup. It will spoil the cup, but we can easily get another one,” directed Garry.
The boys immediately set about doing his bidding, and as they worked, Garry got out his knapsack and proceeded to rummage through it for the linen cord and the shoemaker’s wax. Having found them, he set to work to wax the cord thoroughly, making it less likely to shrink. Next he examined the broken rib of the canoe, and determined how much of the birch branch he would need to repair it. He took his knife and shaved a long diagonal slant on the piece of rib in the canoe, then matched the slant on the piece of branch. Having fixed them so they would fit, he took a piece of fishing line and wound it carefully around the joint, starting several inches above where the two pieces joined, and continuing for several inches onto the firm wood beyond the spot where the repair was made. This is called “splicing.” Most boys have spliced a fishing pole or a broken bat in much the same way.
The rib having been spliced, the next step was the patching of the hole. Garry got the birch bark, and laid it over the gaping rent in the bottom of the craft, and marked a line around so that it overlapped the hole by about four inches. The extra bark was then trimmed away, and he was ready to sew it on. He took the awl blade of his knife and punched a series of holes around, piercing both the patch and the bark of the canoe. Having done this, he called for the hot pitch and poured it on around the edge of the hole. Then he firmly laid the patch on, and as the pitch cooled it formed a sort of a natural mucilage. Garry had previously waxed one end of the cord so that it would be easy to stick it through the holes, and working swiftly he threaded the cord in. When the job was completed, he reversed his steps, so that the result was a firmly sewn patch.
Nothing else remained to do but to daub hot pitch liberally over the seam on both sides, and calk the edges where the patch was attached to the craft.
“There,” said Garry, as he stepped back and proudly surveyed his handiwork. “That’s a craft that will be as seaworthy, or rather as lakeworthy, if there is such a word, as one could want.”
“Um, let me see,” mused Dick aloud, as he looked over the canoe. “There’s one other quite necessary thing to be done.”
“Well, smarty, what is there to be done,” asked Garry a trifle hotly.
“I was just wondering whether we would rig up a sail or have you a gas engine in your knapsack with which to make this gallant ship navigate?” asked Dick as he burst into laughter, in which he was joined, first by Phil, and a bit later by Garry, when he saw that the joke was on him.
“Phil, you’re the handy man with the knife, what say to a couple of paddles?” asked Garry after the laughter had subsided.
“Have ’em for you in an hour. That’s quick work, however, and I won’t promise you a very handsome product.”
“We won’t bother about looks as long as they will propel the canoe through the water. That remark of Dick’s about the sail, although it was intended to be humorous, isn’t such a bad idea either, only there is no way that I can think of right now to make a sail. We’ll browse around the camp when we get back and see if we can dig up a bit of canvas and make one of those lateen sails, you know those triangular shaped affairs such as the boats in the Mediterranean use,” said Garry.
While he was talking, Phil had already set to work to make a pair of paddles. “Now you chaps watch me, and after I have fixed one with the axe, or as much as one can do with an axe blade, I’ll get to work with the knife,” he said.
Phil selected spruce about five inches in diameter and felled it to the ground.
“I hate to spoil a perfectly good tree, but in this case certainly necessity knows no law.”
He chopped off two sections a little over five feet in length, and then proceeded to hew one swiftly into a board. This took some little time, despite the fact that he worked at top speed every moment. His last work with the axe was to fashion very crudely the handle.
“Now I am going to whittle just the top and a place where the hand will come in contact with the neck or shaft of the paddle. To try and smooth it up would take too long, and all that really needs to be smooth are the places where we will have to hold it. If it was left rough we would soon accumulate a crop of blisters. While I am whittling, you chaps can fashion that other section into form as I did.”
After he had whittled enough, Phil sprang to his feet and said, “If I am not mistaken, I saw an old bottle near the remains of a campfire, and that will be just what I want.” He sped away to where he had seen the vestiges of some fisherman’s fire, and soon found what he required. He smashed this against a stone, and with the fragments scraped the spots he had whittled smooth and free from lumps.
The second paddle was not long in the making, but the entire job had taken well over three hours. “We have about three hours before it is time to eat, and we might as well put our canoe to the test, and see if it works,” announced Dick.
“Time to eat! Don’t you ever think of anything but eating?” demanded Garry.
“Yes, sir; when I’m not thinking about time to eat, I’m thinking about what to eat,” responded Dick promptly.
“Say, Phil, he’s hopeless. What say we make for that outlet at the far end of the lake. We might just as well do that as anything, since we have no real plan of action. Then tomorrow we can make a complete tour of the lake, and thus get a comprehensive idea of the whole body of water.”
The canoe was launched, and the boys climbed in. Garry and Phil elected to paddle, leaving Dick to sit in the middle.
“If that patch will hold Dick up, you can be sure it’s a good job, Garry,” laughed Phil, as they pushed off.
“So that was why you chaps were so kind as to do all the paddling. I’m to be the happy little subject of the experiment. Well, if I get a ducking there is some consolation in the fact that you two will follow suit,” said Dick good naturedly.
Garry had done a fine bit of work, however, and the craft proved to be all that they hoped it would. They made it dance through the water and were delighted to find that they could make much better speed than in the ordinary wooden canoe. The only thing necessary, however, was to keep perfectly quiet, as the balance of a bark craft is a much more precarious thing than that of a solid factory made canoe.
It took them but a short time to reach the outlet, and they beached their boat and started on a tour down the stream, which was a shallow, weedy affair.
Their early scout training, and their need of vigilance during their patrolling of the woods when on duty as fire rangers had made their powers of observation especially keen, and it was second nature almost for them to note signs of trail that would be unseen by one unversed in the lore of the woods and forests.
They had walked about a quarter of a mile, when Phil’s exclamation made them pause.
“There’s fresh trail there, or I’m no good at sign reading any more,” remarked Phil. The boys gazed at the ground and quickly saw that Phil was right.
With no wasted words, they turned and followed the slightly outlined trail. It took only a few minutes for them to reach a crude log shack, one that had evidently been constructed early that summer, as the fresh cut logs showed.
The door swung loose on crude rope hinges, and after debating a moment they decided to enter: They found practically nothing in the way of furniture. There were no bunks, but a pile of boughs had been thrown in each corner, and a rough table had been built in a corner of the hut. On this reposed several dirty tin dishes. The remains of the food were still fresh, showing that someone had eaten there within the past day or so.
“That means that they are apt to be back at any time, and so we’d better light out. It may be some camper and it may be some enemy. I am inclined to think it the latter, for a camper would have taken some pains to make things just a little bit more comfortable,” said Garry. “I think, however, we will plan to keep watch of this place and see who happens to occupy it.”
“Well, I can tell you right now that it is someone from the logging camp. One of those who are mixed up in the trouble there. Look under that table on the floor!”
CHAPTER XII
DICK DISAPPEARS
The others bent forward curiously and gazed at the floor. There, laying in a little mess of debris, as though it had slipped from the pocket of some one who had been sitting at the table, was the knife with Dick’s name on it, that he had bought of the sidewalk merchant in Bangor!
“Isn’t that conclusive proof that it’s someone from the camp?” demanded Dick as he rescued the knife.
“It surely is, and they are up to no good. Why should anyone from the cutting have a place over here? It’s a signal for us to get out and get out quick. There’s one good thing, though, we can set the hermit to watching over here and leave ourselves free to go about other business. We’ll pace out the distances and draw a rough map and leave it in the tree postoffice so that the old fellow can come over here and keep watch,” said Garry.
Being careful to leave no traces of having been in the cabin, they hastened outside. They had hardly gone two feet, though, when Dick darted back. He rejoined his companions almost instantly, and answered their puzzled stare with this explanation:
“I’ve just sacrificed my good knife. The thought came to me that one of them, the man who found it, might have remembered dropping it there, and would at once know that someone had been in the cabin if it was missing.”
“Good headwork, Dick,” said Garry approvingly.
They took it on the run back to where their canoe was beached, and soon were on their way back across the lake.
“I wish that we had more time without fear of interruption,” said Garry, “for it is likely that the occupants of the cabin have a canoe hidden somewhere along the bank of the lake. Safest thing now, however, is to get back to the other side of the lake, where we have an excuse for being.”
“I am afraid that there will be little use in watching that cabin, however, for it is quite probable that Barrows will warn those who are living there that we are swimming and fishing around the lake, and advise them to seek a new hiding place,” observed Phil.
“That’s a fact,” answered Garry. “Still, there’s no harm in trying. It was only by extreme carefulness in watching for signs that we discovered that trail. It was probably the one that the men use to get water, and the cabin is well hidden. One would not stumble on it casually in a long time.”
It was sundown by this time, and they held a council to decide whether they would camp there for the night or go back to the lumber camp. They were all anxious to visit the big lake, however, and so it was decided to return.
“After the camp is quiet we can skip out and visit our other objective,” said Garry.
Taking their fish out of the water, where they had been placed to keep fresh, they trekked towards home. It was about dark when they reached the camp, and about the first person they met was Barrows. He was all curiosity to know how they had spent the day, and they returned equivocal answers, being careful to make no mention of the canoe which they had carefully hidden before starting away from the lake.
The manager admired the fish, and thanked the boys for offering them to provide breakfast on the coming day. Pleading their strenuous walk and day as an excuse, they retired early to the shack.
Here a campaign was speedily decided on. Dick was to go back to the office and chat for a few moments, while the others slipped out of camp. This would make it appear that they were in the neighborhood, and after a reasonable time, Dick could return and retire for the night.
Dick wandered back to the office to engage the manager in a talk about fishing and the possibility of a long hike to extend over a week or more, while Garry and Phil made for the lake.
The tote road that had been made to transport the sawed lumber ran for a short distance along the lakeside. Here there was a slightly wider place made so that the tractors that met each other could pass with ease. The ground was here covered with broken branches and debris of all sorts, well tramped into the ground. Garry flashed his lamp about and searched for signs of any sort, but seemed to find none. Then he went to the lake edge and peered about.
Some peculiar formation of rock made a sort of a ledge that stood about three feet above the water. This ledge interested Garry immensely, but he said nothing as he wanted more time to puzzle out the situation before coming to any definite conclusions. At the point where the tote road had been widened, there was a triple string of broad wheeled flat cars loaded with lumber.
“Now I wonder why these cars were left here,” asked Phil.
“That’s easy. The drivers knock off work at a regular hour, and when that time comes, if they have not gone very far on their trip, they simply come back to the camp and wait until morning. That is to prevent accidents which running in the dark might bring about,” said Garry.
“Hush, what’s that?” asked Phil. Both boys listened intently. Far off across the lake they heard a faint chugging noise. Sometimes it seemed to cease altogether, then as the breeze stirred they could hear it, getting fainter and fainter.
“Phil, I’ve discovered the secret of the stolen timber or I’m a Chinaman. That noise solves the whole proposition. That sound that we heard is the engine of a powerful motor boat. And Barrows insisted that there was no kind of water transportation on either lake. Now why should he lie about it unless he had some ulterior motive in covering up the presence of a boat? This is the answer or I’ll return from our mission and tell Dad I’m not bright enough to solve the mystery.”
“What have you doped out,” asked Phil, as Garry paused for a moment.
“Just this. I’ll bet you a dollar to a doughnut that the drivers that are in on this timber stealing business have it so arranged that there is always a load of cars waiting here overnight. That’s step number one. Now we have a rock formation here that makes a perfectly good wharf. Next you have noticed that all the chips and bits of broken branches strewn between the turnout here and that strip of rock. That’s just to hide the footprints that are made by the thieves. So far so good. How does this strike you? That motor boat that we heard is a big one, at least it had immense pulling strength. I know enough about engines to tell from the sound how good they are. That boat is probably used to draw a raft across the lake. Just after midnight, or some safe time during the dark hours, a raft can be backed against that natural wharf there, and in half an hour enough lumber can be carried from the flat cars to the raft to make it a profitable night’s work. Why, the whole thing is as plain as a pikestaff. Phil, we’ve got everything nearly dead to rights now!”
“What’s the next step then, old timer? Shall we hike out and write, or wire your father to come on so we can show him what’s going on?” questioned Phil.
“Not yet a bit, there’s still something else we must find out. Is this a part of the treachery to ruin Dad’s enterprise here, or is it a private bit of work on the part of Barrows?”
“How’s this for a guess? The people that are behind Barrows, meaning those that have bribed him to play false to the trust your father put in him, may have outlined this whole scheme, and offered to give Barrows as his pay what he can make off the stolen timber. At the rate that it has been disappearing, one-fifth and one-quarter at a time, as the report that Howells received would show, and at the price which lumber is bringing today, that would be pretty good pay for one summer. Chances are that the interests that are opposing Mr. Boone are paying all the expenses. Their only idea is to put him out of business for breaking up their combination and going into business on his own hook. If that’s the kind of men they are, I don’t blame your father for getting out of the combination.”
“I think you have the right idea, Phil. My, I wish we had our canoe over here. We could paddle across the lake and investigate the other side and see what is done with the timber once it is rafted over the water,” said Garry.
“No use in wishing. Best thing we can do is hike for home and turn in. Then tomorrow we can make arrangements to go on, say a three day hike. We can portage the canoe across country, and hide out along the bank until nightfall. The moon is in its last quarter now, and by night after tomorrow it will be dark. We can paddle out well into the lake and wait for what transpires. When we hear the raft and motor boat coming we can paddle far enough to be unobserved and then follow it by sound. The boat will probably travel without lights for two reasons. First, it is safe enough as there is probably no other craft on the lake, and secondly, they will not want to attract any undue attention. Then we can note the spot where the raft docks, and in the morning can follow it to whatever rail spur the stuff is taken. With what help Howells may be able to give us on the outside, we ought to have the thing pretty well in hand. What do you think of my suggestion?” asked Phil almost breathlessly, as he concluded.
“Phew, that’s the longest speech I ever heard you make, Phil, but you sure said something every minute. That’s what we’ll do. Now let’s get back.”
The whole occurrence had taken less than an hour and a half, and when they reached the camp they noted that a light was still burning in the manager’s office. On arriving at their shack they were somewhat surprised to find that Dick was not there.
“He’s doing a good job,” laughed Garry. “Either he is really interested in what Barrows has to say, or he is playing to give us time to do what we wanted to. Well, he can stay there all night if he wants to, I’m going to roll into my blanket and dream sweet dreams. Dick’s a night hawk anyway most of the time. Goodnight.” And Garry yawned and soon was fast asleep. Later development will show that it would have been wise on the part of the boys to look in on the manager at that time. Had they done so, their work would have been greatly simplified. However, they were not mind readers and so days of trouble were in store for them.
Morning came, and when Garry, always the first one to awake, tumbled out of bed, he cast one look at Dick’s bunk, and then rushing over to the other side of the shack, vigorously shook Phil.
“What’s the matter?” demanded Phil in a startled voice, sitting upright in his bunk. “Anything the trouble?”
“That’s what I cannot tell you right this minute, Phil, but Dick hasn’t been here all night!”
Phil leaped out of his bunk and looked at the spot where their companion usually slept. The blankets were still neatly in place, and it needed only a glance to see that no one had used it that night.
The boys hurried into their clothes and rushed to the office building where Barrows and the camp officers slept. No one was stirring, and Garry was about to pound on the door when he saw the cookee coming from the cookhouse with a pail in each hand for the morning cooking water.
Garry called to him and asked if he had seen Dick that morning.
“Naw,” was the grouchy answer. “Why should I have seen him? I don’t know anything about him.”
The sound of the voices awakened Barrows and he came and stuck his head out of the window.
“What’s the matter?” he asked.
“Why, Dick hasn’t been around all night, and we were looking for him. Have you seen him since last night?” asked Garry.
“I haven’t seen him since the three of you went to your shack last night!”
CHAPTER XIII
THE CIPHER
The boys were dumbfounded by Barrows’ answer.
“What’s that you say?” demanded Garry.
“I said I had not seen him since the three of you went to your shack last night to turn in. Isn’t that plain enough?” reiterated the manager.
“Well, all we know is that just after we got to the shack, Dick left to come back here and have a chat with you and get some information about the country, as we had some little thought of taking a week’s hike up into the wild lands that lie to the northwest.”
“If he started for this office he never got here, for I sat up late trying to straighten out the tangle that Howells left behind him. No one came near the office all that time. Perhaps your chum has gone off on some little private expedition.”
Garry was quick to notice that there was a malicious ring in the manager’s voice. At once the uncomfortable feeling overcame him that their night’s work had been discovered. Garry was at a loss what course to pursue. He could make no accusation of any kind, for Dick might have stumbled on some clue that took him off on the trail.
“Well, you can understand that we are a little bit worried over the matter, especially since this is strange country to Dick. He might have wandered into the woods and got lost.” Garry knew that this was next to impossible, but he could think of nothing better to say at the moment.
“My advice is that you wait a bit, and you will probably find that he is all right. He’ll very likely show up in a little while. I wouldn’t worry,” said Barrows.
There was nothing to do for the moment but take the manager’s advice, and the boys returned to the shack.
“Phil, there’s bad business afoot here somewhere. At such a time as this, Dick would not have gone off to follow a clue without leaving us some sort of a note or even a sign. He could leave a half a dozen different signs that we all know to denote trouble. He hasn’t taken anything with him. His rifle is still there and so is his pack. If it were some mission of danger that he had gone on he would at least have taken his rifle. Now what shall we do?”
“Let’s give him till noon in case it was such a hurried matter that he had not time to run back for his rifle. We might even wait until six o’clock. You know we have always made it a rule that we should never be gone more than twenty-four hours on a search without letting the others know in some way that we are safe. Sundown tonight would not be exactly twenty-four hours, but it would be near enough,” advised Phil. Garry agreed that this was sound advice and they went off to breakfast. They found Barrows was almost through.
“Why don’t you fellows start out this morning and look for him? One of you could go in one direction and one in the other. If you know anything of the woods, you could soon find signs of him if he were wandering about,” suggested Barrows.
Garry told him that they had decided to wait until nightfall before getting really worried. At this the manager allowed a satisfied gleam to show in his eyes. Both the boys were narrowly watching him, and noted this. After breakfast they came back to the shack, and once safe inside, Garry whispered to Phil:
“Watch every move from now on. That business of Barrows telling us to go in different directions on such a wild goose chase was entirely too obvious. He wants us to get separated. Keep your rifle close by you every minute, and tonight we’ll establish a watch same as we have done in the woods when there was danger near. First thing this morning is to go to the spot where we agreed to leave notes for the hermit, and leave a letter telling him what has happened and asking him to take a look at the shack on the other side of Kanamo Lake.”
Hastily writing the note, and watching that they were not followed they slipped out of the camp and ran to the appointed postoffice.
Garry reached his hand in as a matter of course, and was surprised to find that there was a note in the natural receptacle.
He brought it out, and with Phil leaning over his shoulder, read it. It contained a distinct shock for both. Here was what they read:
“Attacked by men and letter to your father stolen. Hit on head and left lying in road. Use all caution. The Bear is in the woods.”
The usual lone pine symbol was attached.
“Well, we are discovered, Garry,” said Phil. “Barrows must have had the hermit followed and has read the letter. I wouldn’t be a bit surprised if he knew what we talked about last night. Question now is whether he was instrumental in bringing about Dick’s absence.”
“I am afraid that we have sort of made a mess of things, Phil. We haven’t given Barrows enough credit, or else we have been too sure of ourselves. There is a good chance, however, and this note makes me think it highly likely that Jean LeBlanc may have captured Dick again. You know he seems determined to do him harm, even more so than us, for he and Dick have tangled up three or four times now, and each time Dick has managed to elude him and make more or less of a fool of him. This naturally would make an even more implacable enemy of the vengeful halfbreed. Let’s get back to camp and wait awhile. We will pry about the entire camp to see if there is any sign of Dick, and also we will be safer for the time being. Don’t think I am cowardly, only we want to take no chances if we are to help Dick and at the same time complete our mission here.”
They returned to the camp, and as they walked, Garry tore the hermit’s note into tiny, indistinguishable fragments, throwing each tiny particle to the winds.
The day dragged on, although they tried to make it pass quickly by searching through the camp. Night came at last, and they turned in. Before retiring they arranged for alternate watches, and also decided that on the morrow they would insist that a message be sent for Mr. Boone. The boys had almost decided that rather than allow Dick to fall into greater danger by protracting the time of a systematic search, they would tell what they had learned to Mr. Boone and let him force the issue of the stolen timber.
It was nearly eleven o’clock and Phil, who was on watch, was about to wake Garry for his turn at sentry duty, when he heard a cautious fumbling at the door, and the sound of a low malediction when the intruder found that it was locked. There was silence for a moment, and then Phil heard the sound of someone breathing heavily at the window. He crept noiselessly to Garry’s bunk, and holding his hand over his chum’s mouth lest he make a sudden noise, shook him awake. Garry was aroused in an instant, and all sleep vanished. He knew from feeling Phil’s hands against his mouth that caution was needed.
Having roused Garry, Phil crept back to the window just in time to hear a faint swish. Instantly he knew that the intruder was cutting the double thickness of heavy mosquito bar with a knife, and guided by the sound, clubbed his rifle and brought it down with full force. There was a howl of pain, and the sound of someone running away at top speed.
“Must have clipped that chap either on the head or the hand,” whispered Phil. “Guess he won’t be here again tonight.”
“Looks as though the war was on. You roll in and I’ll watch for a couple of hours now. Good thing we used our old trick of sentry work, or we might be in a bad position right now,” answered Garry.
For another hour nothing happened. Then there was a pounding at the door and Barrows’ voice was heard calling the names of Garry and Phil. Suspecting a trick, both boys reached for their rifles, and after lighting a candle, Garry covered the door with his rifle while Phil opened it.
Barrows stepped in and seemed to be taken back by the sight of the rifle leveled at his head.
“Why the military greeting?” he asked with an attempt at good humor.
“Taking no chances,” answered Garry briefly, for he had a feeling that it was almost time to tear the mask away. “We had one visitor here tonight, and we didn’t know what to expect.”
Garry explained his statement about the visitor by briefly telling of the attempt that had been made to enter the cabin an hour previously. Barrows passed this off by offering the suggestion that some of the lumbermen were naturally ruffians, and might have wanted to commit burglary.
“What I woke you up for was to tell you that a man has come here with a note that he refuses to deliver to anyone but you boys. He’s at my office now, and all he will say is that your friend Dick’s safety depends on obeying what is in the note. Of course I could have summoned some of the men and had him overpowered, but thought you boys might like to handle the matter for yourselves.”
The boys put on their shoes and coats, for they had gone to bed almost fully dressed, and prepared to follow Barrows.
“Careful now,” whispered Garry, as he passed Phil.
There seemed to be little need for caution, however, for they were unmolested on their way. At the office they found an unkempt dirty looking individual.
“Be these the boys,” he asked of Barrows, pointing a dirty finger at Garry and Phil.
“Yes, these are the ones. Now state your business and do it quick,” snapped Barrows.
“This letter tells the hull story,” answered the man in a hoarse voice, and he handed a crumpled piece of paper to Garry.
The leader of the Rangers took the note and read it in silence, then handed it over to Phil.
What they read was this:
“Have been captured by Jean LeBlanc. Have been forced to write this letter to you. LeBlanc wants a thousand dollars for my freedom. You are either to bring it with you, or make arrangements for its delivery at a spot known to the bearer of this letter. Warn you that any attempt to molest bearer will result in serious injury or worse to me. You know I would not ask this unless I were in grave peril. Don’t fail me. Follow bearer’s directions.
“Being emergency will ask ransom emphatically.
“Dick Wallace.”
“That’s Dick’s writing, sure enough. He must have been tortured into writing that letter, else he would never have done it,” said Garry between his teeth. “Now Barrows, the time has come for a showdown. What do you know about this matter? Speak up, and speak up quick!”
“What should I know about it. I don’t know what’s in the letter about your friend,” answered Barrows taken back by the tone of Garry’s grim voice.
“How do you know it’s about our friend?” demanded Garry quick as a flash.
“Why, the bearer here told me that it had to do with one of the three boys who were staying here,” answered Barrows weakly.
“I think you’re lying, Barrows, but I can’t prove it. Here, read the letter.”
He handed the crumpled note over to the manager, who took it and read it in silence. Then he burst into a protest.
“I never heard of this Jean LeBlanc. Why do you connect me with the matter? I never even heard the name LeBlanc.”
“You had a Baptiste LeBlanc working for you until Howells insisted that he be discharged, didn’t you?” continued Garry implacably.
“Why, there may have been a man of that name. I remember Howells insisting that a man be discharged, but I never pay much attention to the names of the lumberjacks, at least to their last names. I leave that to the timekeeper and the section bosses. You misunderstand me entirely. I am ready to give you all my help. What do you propose to do?”
“First place I am going to start back with this man here and look into the matter. Of course we have no money to take with us, but I am going to be assured that Dick is safe. You will get the necessary ransom from the bank at town, and thirty-six hours from now you will start with it to some place where this man will appoint. We will be there at the time with Dick. In the meantime telegraph my father to get here with all speed. Now, Barrows, I’m putting this matter up to you. If you fail in any way it will be so much the worse for you. I’m trusting you only because I have to in an emergency. Don’t fall down, or we’ll make you the sorriest man you could ever dream of being. Phil, keep these men covered with your rifle until I go back and get our packs. Don’t let them stir out of your sight or move a finger.”