After leading them a sinuous path through the blackened wilderness for perhaps a mile, the tracks turned sharply to the right and upward along a more gravelly slant until what seemed the backbone of a wooded ridge was attained. Here the fire in consuming leaves, fallen branches and most of the thinner undergrowth, had thus swept from the gravel beneath all the surface refuse. Probably this was accomplished before the rains began.
In consequence the tracks, growing more and more imperceptible, finally vanished entirely.
"I bane tired," and Nels sat down, shaking his great head discouragingly.
"Gee whiz!" gurgled Jones. "I almost wish I was back in Staretta in my little bed 'stead of way out here where I don't even know where I am or how I'll get out again."
But Chip was made of sterner stuff. Seeing his companions were in the dumps, he perked up and sniffed the night air expectantly.
"What's the use of gittin' discouraged? Mornin' 'll soon be here. We kin see that fire yet, can't we? Les' go back and git some sleep."
"No use of dat." This from Nels. "It bane very late now. We git fire here. Sleep a bit."
But it was concluded not to make a fire, as it might give the man they were hunting a clue as to where they were. So the three prepared to pass a comfortless night. Fortunately it did not rain any more and, after a fashion, they managed to endure the rest of the night. At last, cool and cheerless, the dawn came, andwith the first glimmer the three set out along the ridge. Nels kept to the summit, while the boys patrolled the sides, keeping an eye out amid the softer mud and ashes for any sign of foot tracks.
A mile or more might have been traversed thus when, at a shout from Chip, the others hastened to him and saw that the boy had detected distinct foot tracks leading away towards the east.
"Fresh ones too," said Paul, pointing. "And–look there. Criminy! I'm going to take a look inside that hollow log."
He darted towards a rusty looking tree trunk over which the fire had swept, leaving naught but the solid wood cylinder of dead beech. Most of the shrivelled bark, moss and dead leaves were reduced to ashes. These the rain had made into a moist, blackish gray mush. At the larger end were plain signs as if some heavy body had crawled inside and perhaps out again. Nels, more up to woods lore, looked,sniffed, fingered clumsily, then delivered himself.
"Murkee, he bane sleep here yoost li'l whiles. Git oop soon. He bane gone a'retty–yuss!"
"Gone–yes!" exclaimed Paul. "But where did he go? How did he get away so all-fired soon–hey?"
Here another call from Chip solved the question. Not far below the hollow log began a tiny slough which presently widened out until footprints were discernible in the mushy tussocks of what had before been a fringe of marsh-grass. It was Chip who led the way now, and eagerly pointed out further developments in the hunt.
"Do you reckon this really is Murky we are following?" asked Paul while Nels, tired, hungry and sleepy as well, dragged along dumbly.
"Pshaw!" exclaimed Chip, who was bent on solving the apparently unsolvable. "Who else would it be way out here in this wilderness?We wouldn't be here if it wasn't for Murky: Murky wouldn't be here if his own work hadn't driven him into it. Let's go on."
And on they went, the trail growing plainer as the slough widened and deepened. Finally they came to a fallen tree extending from one side of the slough to the other. The scorched, blackened, rain-soaked top reached to their side. Half way across the branches ceased and nothing but a slimy black trunk reached to the other side. Already they were about to pass this when Chip, who was in the lead, suddenly stopped.
"I don't see no more tracks," said he, seemingly nonplussed.
At once Nels came forward, took one look about, then pointed at a sooty limb projecting landward from the trunk.
"W'at de matter wid dat?" he exclaimed. "She bane go dat way."
"Sure–you're right!" cried Paul, instantly comprehending. "But how will you get across, Mr. Anderson?"
Chip Slider, always willing when there was something to do, caught hold of the limb that showed signs of recent use and swung himself up into the top. Paul Jones followed, but Anderson shook his head as he tried to raise his half useless arms. Without assistance he could not make it. Yet it was evident that the fugitive Murky must have taken that road.
Meanwhile Chip, landing on the other side after a slippery passage on the log, saw the tracks leading straight off through the woods as if Murky well knew what he wanted and where he was going. Paul, in crossing, noticed midway of the log certain muddy smears as if someone had either fallen off or had climbed up on the log about midway of the slough. This did not much impress him at thetime. Hastening on to join Chip, the two then perceived that Nels was still on the other side.
"By cripes! Anderson can't make it, Chip! We ought to have waited and helped him over. That log's mighty slippery. Looks as if someone had fallen off already. What had we better do?"
"Say, Paul, this trail leads right back in the direction of them rocks where we spent last night. What do ye think of that?"
But Paul was now calling to Nels on the other side. He had heard what Chip said and shouted to the big Swede its import. At this Nels solved the difficulty in a few words, directing the boys–if they were sure of this–to follow the new trail while Nels would go back to the head of the slough and rejoin them somewhere near the foot of the rocky ridge they had previously traversed.
Still the trail was puzzling. Both lads found not only a fresh trail leading ridgeward, but signs of an earlier trail, now much rainwashed,that led towards the slough, not away from it as the fresh trail did.
"Tell you what I believe, Paul," remarked Chip after studying the situation over. "When Murky first struck out he was trying to get clear off, probably east somewhere. He must 'a' come this way, tried to cross the run here and couldn't. He might 'a' fell off that log where you saw them stains.
"What would he do then? Why, strike for higher ground; git to some place where he could make a fire. That took him back to where he run against us. And if it hadn't 'a' been for Nels, I ain't sure but what he'd a got the best in that mix-up. What do you think?"
What Chip thought was indicated by his pointing finger, for he was ahead, following the trail, now growing more and more indistinct. Paul came up and looked at the faint outline of tracks now turning abruptly up the rocky ridge.
"Murky–if 'twas Murky–is goin' right backwhere he and us spent last night. Now what would he be doin' that for? There hain't but one reason that counts," affirmed Chip. "He's hid out that money somewhere–don't you reckon?"
All at once the significance of this appealed to both the boys. As with one accord they eagerly resumed their trail hunt, but it was with such scant success that Paul finally shook his head in discouragement. Chip, now on hands and knees, stooping, at times almost crawling, was inclined to give up too.
"You remember how we lost that trail before on this ridge and only found it when we separated, taking in the lowland on either side?"
"Yep! That's what we'll have to do now. Wish Nels was here. Wonder where he is now?" And Paul peered in the direction of the slough.
With one accord both lads waited a few minutes, but seeing no sign of the vanished Swede,it was agreed that Chip should take one side of the ridge and Paul the other, and at each mile of progress or thereabouts, should let each other know. If, meanwhile, one should strike the trail again he should call or go in search of the other.
Possibly Paul had gone a mile, when a rumbling, heavy voice halted him. No trail had he found, but–there was Anderson coming, having at last rounded the head of the slough.
"You find him yet?" meaning the vanished trail. "He bane go dis way?"
"No, we lost it on the ridge like we did before. Chip is looking for it on the other side of this slope. I hope he has better luck than us."
"Let's res' a leetle, Paul," and Nels slumped heavily down.
At this juncture came a faint call from the other side of the ridge. Paul jumped up again, saying:
"Come on, Mr. Anderson! That must be Chip. He's found something, for we agreedto let each other know, whichever came on anything first."
And Paul gave an answering shout, starting up the gentle rise of the rocky elevation, on top of which both trails had vanished.
"Alright–I bane coomin'," responded Nels as he wearily got up and tried to keep up with Paul's hasty steps, but soon gave that up. "I bane tired–all een–das w'at."
Young Slider had felt all along the keenest interest in the recovery of that stolen money. His dead father's participation therein probably kept him stimulated by a desire to show his new-found friends, the Auto Boys that he was worthy to be trusted.
After some futile search he was at length gratified to discover signs of the vanished trail. It came down from the higher ground where the rocks and gravel made it indistinguishable. Filled with new courage he followed on, pleased that it became more plain as the lower ground grew softer and more mushy. At this juncturehe began calling to Paul, and perhaps it was indiscreet in view of what presently happened.
But Chip was not thinking of himself. Instead, as he gave his last shout and heard the faint echo of Paul's reply, he only thought that he was again on the track of Murky. Where was Murky now?
"I hope we'll soon know," he said to himself as he plodded on, on–eyes on the ground and seeing little of things around him. "I hope Paul hurries. He'd help a lot–"
"Blameme!" A savage growl struck on Chip's ears. "It's that durned little Slider cuss."
With a curdling chill Chip raised his eyes and was astounded by what he saw. Having gone farther than he thought, amid his eagerness to get on and his constant scrutiny of the trail, he saw around him the same rocks rising to his right that they had approached the night before. And right under the heavy ledge where he and Paul had been sheltered, prior toMurky's attack, stood Murky himself, mud-slimed, gaunt, fierce, and scowlingly savage.
"Ain't I never goin' to git rid of you?" he snapped, drawing menacingly near. "You'll not dodge me this time!"
With this Murky lurched forward, his claw-like hand reaching forth. Chip let out a yell of terror. He could not help it. The yell would come, and it rang far-reaching, striking on Anderson's ear as the Swede, having recovered, was crossing the ridge's backbone not so very far away. That yell smote upon Paul not unlike the effect of an unexpected thunder clap. But Paul recognized the voice. Chip was in trouble. He–Paul–was not with him. Gripping his courage, he rushed on, rounding a bulge of rock just in time to see Chip being dragged within that same recess whence both Murky and Nels had emerged the night before, one to attack, the other to rescue the two boys.
"Look here!" cried Paul, now more angry than ever, his fear of Murky quite gone for thetime being. "You let that boy alone! Hear me?"
Apparently the tramp did not, for he disappeared through the elbowed recess still dragging the struggling Chip. Just then Paul stumbled and was nearly thrown down by hitting a smooth, round rock with his foot. Recovering, he picked up that rock and darted through the recess after Murky with his captive. His other hand also found that pistol with which he had clipped the robber's ear, and which Paul had hung onto, thinking he might have a use for it. No cartridges were in it of course, but still it was a weapon.
In one corner of that recess where the fire had been built Murky had young Slider down and apparently was choking the life out of the lad. Without a word Paul ran up, heaved the rock and, as luck would have it, struck the robber fairly right over the head.
A less hard-headed man would have toppled over. But Murky was hard-headed as well ashard-hearted. He reeled upon his knees and his clutch upon Chip relaxed sufficiently to enable that thoroughly frightened youngster to wriggle away on hands and knees while Murky was recovering.
The latter scrambled to his feet, his head smarting. Roaring, he lunged at Paul, who darted back, his only real weapon gone and wondering what to do next. More by instinct than anything he levelled the empty pistol at the robber, shouting at the same time:
"Keep off–keep off! I–I'll shoot–"
But by this time Murky had recovered his poise and his strength as well. For all he knew Paul might send bullets his way, but that did not now stop the ruffian. With a savage snort of anger he sprang upon the boy, wrenched from him the pistol and straightway began to beat Paul over the head. About this time Murky felt a clinging form jump upon his back, wind its thin arms and legs around his halfreeling frame, as Paul struck at him with boyish impetuosity, though the blows were futile so far as doing the man any serious harm.
"Blame ye both!" he exploded. "I'll fix ye–blast ye!"
And fix them both he methodically proceeded to do. Seizing Paul by the scruff of his neck and twisting Chip somehow under his other arm, he then tried to bang their heads together. Luckily he did not succeed before there was a sudden interruption.
For the second time there came in Murky's rear a rumbling roar of anger. Nels Anderson, just arrived, breathless, exhausted, was yet ready to do what might be done by a tired man almost without the use of his arms.
At the sound close behind him Murky turned, his savage claws fastened in the half helpless boys' clothing. Pushing them before him, he rushed upon the Swede. The impact was too much for Nels.
Back he staggered, his heels tripping, and fell with the two youngsters on top of his prostrate bulk.
By the time the three got to their feet again Murky had vanished. But they heard him farther on, and in an instant Chip was off, crying:
"We mustn't lose him! He's back after that money! I just know it!"
Was Chip right? Only quick work might solve that riddle. In a trice Paul was at Chip's heels while Nels, puffing more than ever, yet still game, came on after. Arrived at the next turning, they saw Murky dragging at something in a dark corner or crevice of rock. Seeing his pursuers coming, Murky rushed blindly at them. Chip managed to dodge but Paul was overborne and, stumbling back, brought up against Nels, and again a rough-and-tumble struggle began. Meantime Chip, having dodged, saw what Murky, down on his knees, had been dragging at when again surprised. Intuition told him what it might be. Instead ofgoing to the aid of his companions Chip stooped over, dragged out a wet, soiled package from a deeper crevice, ran off through another passage that seemed to wind among a number of converging boulders, and–a moment later returned empty-handed to where the fight was still going on.
Murky now had the big Swede down and was pummelling him over head and face with his fists. Anderson was rolling, twisting about, striving ineffectually to wriggle loose. From behind Paul Jones was doing his best to drag the robber back. Paul had him by the hair and collar. When Chip came back, he had managed to hit Paul with one right-handed fist and the boy was gasping.
All this went through Chip like a flash of lightning out of a clear sky. Seizing a good sized fragment of rock, he began pounding Murky about the head.
"Blame ye!" roared the thief. "Will ye quit? I–I'll–"
Further utterance was checked by Murky's turning and flinging himself full length upon young Slider. Bearing him to the ground, the lad was soon knocked into unconsciousness by Murky's powerful blows.
"Git outer my way!" he shouted, rising and making a break for the same place where Chip had seen him stooping not ten minutes before. "Blame me! I–I'll–where is it? What have ye done with it? Ye will, will ye?"
By this time, blinded by baffled rage, Murky proceeded–as Chip afterwards expressed it–"to wipe up the earth" with his opponents.
Through the nearer passages under the leaning rocks, approaching footsteps were heard, hurried steps, that even Murky had to heed. Then came Link Fraley, followed by Phil, Dave, Billy–the Auto Boys. Behind those was Mr. Beckley, breathing heavily as if tired by undue haste.
No sooner had Murky seen who they were than he sprang up from the scramble wherein he, the Swede and Paul were engaged, and made a break for another passage. But Link, who happened to be nearest, thrust out one long leg. With another cry of rage Murky went prostrate.
For a few minutes–or was it seconds?–a struggle went on. But Murky's day of probationwas at last over. Actually weeping with anger, Anderson strove to reach his late opponent. Paul, though somewhat bruised from his own struggles, also tried to do his bit in securing the scowling man. But it was not necessary. In another short space of time Murky lay there helpless. His arms were bound behind his back, his legs and feet also secured.
One of the first things Mr. Beckley did was to walk up to Anderson and shake his nerveless hand with great vigor. Then he did the same thing to Paul, who was also being congratulated by the other boys. Then Beckley turned to Anderson, saying:
"It was brave and faithful of you, Nels, to start out all by yourself. But it was you and this–this lad who really rounded up the rascal."
"You forget Chip Slider, Mr. Beckley, don't you?" Paul Jones liked to be fair, though at times he was too forward. "Chip wasalong–why, where is Chip? I'd forgot him for the moment."
Link Fraley and Phil Way were bending over Chip's still prostrate form where he lay after being so maltreated by the scowling villain who now lay bound not more than ten feet away.
Attention thus drawn, the entire party devoted themselves to the task of reviving young Slider, who it appeared was only stunned and bruised by his treatment at the hands of the robber.
Presently Mr. Beckley again took the lead in questioning. "Of course I–we feel deeply grateful. The Longknives will do almost anything for those who were most active in securing this fellow and his ill-gotten booty. He'll have to face a murder charge too, as there is little doubt but that he dragged Grandall to his death inside that burning building. And now that we have the thief and the money–"
"Are you sure we've got the money, sir?"It was MacLester who asked this for, Scotch-like, Dave was always ready to cast doubt upon most anything that was not proved before all men. "I don't see any money!"
"Of course we may not see it right now, yet I don't doubt but that you and Murky know where it is?" This to Nels and Paul, who both looked rather nonplussed. "Where is it, Nels?"
"I–I–" Anderson was stammering and confused in manner. "I bane not sure I can tell. That feller, he know." He pointed at Murky who glared evilly at the crowd in general.
"Ye needn't look for me to tell anything," he snarled. "I got no money!"
"If you had, you'd lie about it," was Beckley's comment that seemed to meet the general opinion among his captors.
Murky relapsing into sullen silence, Beckley resumed his queries.
"Do you mean that having gotten this scoundrelhere," indicating Murky, "you don't know where his plunder is?"
"Wish I did, sir," said Paul Jones, turning from Chip who was just beginning to be conscious of outward things.
"And you, too, do not know where the money is?" Beckley turned again to Anderson, who squirmed rather uneasily.
"Wush I did," the latter muttered. "I bane coom after the boys. Ven I coom oop wid 'em, dey vass in mix-oop wid heem," pointing at Murky.
"That fellow must 'a' had the money hid out somewhere," said Paul. "We followed him for miles. Finally we lost the trail, then we came on him by accident, as it were. He was about to get the best of Chip and me when in came Nels, here, and Murky disappeared. It was in the night. In the morning we struck his trail again. But he never seemed to have the money with him. It is all a mystery to me. Isn't that the way of it, Nels?"
Nels gave a sheepish nod of assent.
"Well, it's something big to have apprehended this fellow. Before we are through with him I dare say we will know where that stolen money is."
Mr. Beckley spoke with grim purpose which, however, did not belie his apparent disappointment that the stolen twenty thousand dollars was not forthcoming, or at least some knowledge gained as to its present whereabouts.
Here Chip Slider, reclining against Link Fraley, who was still solicitously supporting the boy's dizzy head, blinked and strove to raise himself. Clearing his throat, he asked in a shaky voice:
"Is it the money they want to know about?" This, apparently, to Link.
"Why, yes, boy! We've got hands on the thief," meaning Murky. "But what Mr. Beckley wants to know now, is what's become of the swag, the boodle, the stuff Murky stole. He won't tell, and you chaps don't seem to know."
"Yes, we do!" replied Chip unexpectedly. Then he sat up unaided.
"What do you mean, my lad?" queried Beckley, a quizzical smile on his face for he had not fully determined the reason of Chip's being here except in a casually superfluous way.
"I mean that–" glancing at Paul and Nels, "–that we know where the money is. At least it looks like the money and Murky seemed mighty anxious to get his paws on it."
Giving little heed to the wonder in the faces of the Swede and Jones, the boy tried to get to his feet. "Help me up, please. I'll be all right in a minute. There! Now if you will all go with me, I'll show you what I mean."
Still supported by Fraley, though Chip was almost himself again, he led the party to a deep crevice where some dirt had been hastily pawed out.
"Right here I saw Murky on his knees trying to pull out something from this hole. About that time he saw us again, and the way he wentfor us kep' him busy with Nels and Paul. It flashed through me what Murky was after. I left them fightin'. It was two to one, anyhow. When I got to this hole I pulled out a wet bundle that I took to be the money. Seemed like I could see the bills or the corners of them in bundles."
"Yes, yes!" exclaimed Beckley eagerly. "They would be apt to be in packages. You were right; I feel sure you were right!"
"But where are those bills now? Where is the bundle?" asked Link.
Without a word Chip, unaided, led the group to the nearby recess where he had hurriedly stowed them. Pointing, he continued:
"That there is what I drug out of yonder hole, sir. I guess it's the money, or Murky wouldn't 'a' been so anxious about gittin' it."
It was the missing money, of course. Practically intact, too, although it was wet and in places mud-soaked. The bags of coin were there. One had a small rip in the seam, doubtlesswhere the coin had escaped that Paul found near the dilapidated suit-case.
Here Paul's enthusiasm at last broke loose.
"Oh, you Chip!" he cried. "You're the goods, ain't you? That then was the reason you didn't stop and help us fight Murky!"
"Yah–he had good reesons–heh!" This from Nels, now rejoicing like the rest. "I bane like you, Cheep; zat I does!"
After that nothing apparently was too good for young Slider. Even Mr. Beckley, dropping his previous air of good-humored toleration, declared that Chip deserved real commendation.
"You have showed pluck and perseverance, for you were about to start after that skunk Murky alone when our young friend Paul Jones joined you. And Nels, our good old Nels, crippled though he was, came swiftly on the trail of you both, arriving just when help was needed."
"Yes, Paul," remarked Phil, "our crowd came just in time too; but if it had not beenfor you three, I guess we would not have both prisoner and money in our hands right now."
"That reminds me," interrupted Link, starting off on a run. "Who stayed behind to watch that devil Murky?"
As with one accord the others, except Mr. Beckley and Chip Slider, started after Fraley, leaving those two to bring along the money. A moment later they broke into the passage where Murky had been left, and found that the wily rascal had already loosed his hands by rubbing the cords that bound his wrists against a sharp edge of the rocks, and was at work upon the bindings that held his feet. These were only partially freed. Seeing his captors approach, he jumped up, made a reckless bolt for freedom, but fell sprawling on the earth. In a trice the others were upon him and after a brief struggle had him tied hard and fast again.
"You'll not get away again, old chap," was Billy's comment as he tied the last knot. "There's a thing called law and justice you'vegot to face before you're done with this crowd!"
While Mr. Beckley, with Anderson's aid, and with sundry others looking on, carefully counted over the wet, draggled, yet still good contents of the package thus found, there came a rattle of wheels. Presently two teamsters from Staretta appeared, with word that they had managed to bring their teams thus far, but the mud and thickening tree trunks might prevent their going farther.
"Guess you won't have to go farther, my men," spoke up Mr. Beckley. "Can we get back to Staretta by night–with a prisoner, and also three more of our friends who came on before?"
"Sure we can! We've broke such road as there is in comin'." The speaker, a red-faced, burly looking man, was shaking hands with Nels, for he was one of the old gravel road workers whom the Longknives had never paid as yet.
"Well then," remarked Beckley to whom all deferred as the leader in their subsequent proceedings,"we will get a move on at once. I am anxious to reach town where I can telephone. It is lucky that I changed my mind and did not go on by rail, when I found that these boys were already after the prisoner yonder," indicating Murky, "and that the other Auto Boys, with Mr. Fraley, were going at once in pursuit. I may state here that, though the clubhouse is gone and Grandall along with it, we have recovered the twenty thousand dollars. If I know the Longknives Club, they will now be more than willing to pay all claims against them by those who trusted them. It was long delayed, yet it could not be helped. I trust to put all things straight before I leave your hospitable little town."
Needless to state good, clean Staretta beds were occupied by the Andersons, the Auto Boys, the golfing man, his servant Daddy O'Lear, and Chip Slider that night. Even Murky, though guarded in the village lock-up, had a more comfortableplace to sleep than he had enjoyed for some time. Later, under a warrant duly drawn, charging him with murder and robbery, he was conveyed to the jail at the county seat to await the grand jury and the court.
Before Mr. Beckley left, and after he had wired particulars of these recent events to the Longknives Club, he received by wire the hearty acquiescence from them in the plan already formulated for the disposition of the stolen and rescued twenty thousand dollars.
First, there was to be medical aid for Nels Anderson, and a restoration of the money losses he had sustained in the building of that gravelled road. Also Chip Slider was to be helped and aided for the plucky way he had acted, especially in removing the money from where Murky, had he come back in a hurry, would have found it. Next those workmen who had been employed three years before must receive the money due them.
Lastly a new automobile should be provided without undue delay for the Auto Boys. It certainly was due them. Had it not been for their bravery and devotion to duty the tragedy making up the last chapter of the gravel road's history would have been far, far more terrible.
It was not long until all Mr. Beckley's plans were carried out. Legally the Longknives Club had never been disbanded and the funds were unanimously voted as he proposed.
But how about poor Chip Slider?
There is today no more contented boy in Lannington, the home city of the Auto Boys, than he.
Without loss of time the chums returned home, taking Chip with them. He's working for Con Cecil in a newspaper office there and going to night school. All his questioning if peace and plenty might not be found somewhere, sometime, has been most pleasingly answered.
There was gladness and thanksgiving in the homes of all the boys' families when the telegrams telling of their escape from the great forest fire were received. A most happy homecoming it was for all, a day or so later.
Scarcely a week had passed when Henry Beckley and a committee of Longknives drove up to the green and yellow garage the Auto Boys called their own, and there delivered a truly splendid new car.
On part of the boys' families and their friends there was much ado about it all. A dinner by the Lannington Automobile Club, and a great many more fine speeches than the four chums relished hearing about themselves, was one such thing.
"And I will venture to say," spoke Mr. Beckley, in the course of his after dinner address, on this occasion, "that whatever the future has in store for our friends, they will be found active and alert in time of play, in time of work or in time of danger."
"The Auto Boys' Big Six," a book wherein the later experiences of the chums will be reported, should in due time enable you to judge whether Mr. Beckley was correct.
THE END