CHAPTER XV.A SUCCESSFUL BATTLE.
Hamp and Brick obeyed orders to the letter. Each carried a rifle, a shotgun and a hunting knife, and each had a pocketful of shells.
The thought of what lay before them lent feverish speed to the boys’ weary feet. Ten minutes of stiff climbing brought them to the top of the hill. They had taken their snowshoes off, and at present they had no need of them. Owing to the high wind that prevailed during the storm, there was not even a sprinkling of snow on the ridge.
They hurried along the rocky pathway, taking good care, however, to tread on no dry twigs or branches. They could see nothing below them, owing to the dense foliage. To right and left lay an equally deep and gloomy ravine.
When the young hunters were a quarter of a mile beyond the spot where Jerry was waiting, as nearly as they could judge, the top of the hill suddenly began to drop downward in steep jumps. Then it sloped more easily, and finally terminated on the brink of a flat, egg-shaped basin, surrounded by hills.
It was a weird and dreary place, and the boys surveyed it for a moment with vague feeling of abhorrence. Then they hastily strapped on their snowshoes, and turned to themouth of the valley, which was a few yards to their left. They posted themselves behind rocks, on opposite sides of the narrow pass. In between lay scrub bushes and the now frozen bed of the stream.
“Got both your guns loaded?” Hamp called across, in a loud whisper.
“Yes; I’m ready,” Brick replied.
His rifle was in his arms, and the shotgun stood beside him.
“How long do you think we’ll have to wait?” he added.
“Not long,” answered Hamp. “The thirty-five minutes are surely up by this time. I’ll bet Jerry is stalking the herd.”
An interval of waiting dragged slowly by. The boys became fidgety and restless. They imagined that something had happened to their companion.
Bang! the thunderous roar of a shotgun suddenly reverberated down the ravine. The boys jumped with surprise, and nervously clutched their weapons. They gazed eagerly up the valley.
“Now look out,” cried Hamp. “They’ll be here in a minute. Keep cool, old fellow, and aim straight.”
“I’ll do my best,” replied Brick. “You take the first one, and I’ll pick out one of the rest.”
“All right,” Hamp whispered.
Just then a loud halloo was heard up the valley, and an instant later the crunching of hoofs and the threshing of bushes rose near by. Now the herd burst into sight, and it was an unexpected surprise to the boys to see eight fat deer leaping onward through the narrow pass.
Bang! went Hamp’s rifle, and the leader of the herd, a huge buck, dropped dead in his tracks.
Brick also singled out a buck, but excitement unsteadied his hand, and he merely wounded the animal in the hind flank. As the rest of the herd scurried by, the lads fired several shots apiece, but without visible effect.
Then they sprang out from cover, well content with what they had accomplished.
The wounded buck had toppled over, but at sight of his enemies he staggered to his feet, and made a rush on three legs for Hamp, snorting savagely. The lad had just time to dodge behind the rock. Indeed, his escape from the antlers was very close.
The buck then turned and went for Brick, who skillfully and coolly ended its career with a charge of heavy shot.
“Hurrah! two dead,” cried Hamp, as he left his place of shelter. “What a streak of luck!”
“Isn’t it glorious?” answered Brick. “Jerry will hardly believe his eyes when he gets here. Say, look there,” he added, in a loud and excited voice.
Hamp looked and uttered a yell of delight. Then both lads rushed toward the mouth of the valley, taking great strides over the snow.
What they saw was a fat doe struggling across the center of the swamp. At every step her hoofs broke through the crust, and she was making but feeble progress. The rest of the herd had wisely swung aside into the forest, and were long since out of sight.
Their snowshoes carried the lads swiftly forward, andthey were quickly within close range of the animal. Two shots were fired, and the deer rolled over lifeless.
“We’ve bagged three!” exclaimed Hamp. “Just think of it!”
“It’s a great haul,” repied Brick; “but we’re in pretty much the same fix as the man who had an elephant on his hands. How are we going to carry all this game?”
“Yes—how?” echoed Hamp.
The problem was left unsolved, for just then a hearty cheer rang on the air. The boys hurried back to the mouth of the valley, reaching there just as Jerry emerged from the bushes. His eyes opened wide with amazement when he saw the dead bucks. Then he spied the body of the doe, and simply gasped with open mouth.
“You—you fellows,” he stammered. “Why, I can hardly believe it. I thought you might knock over one between you—but three! Great Jehosaphat!”
“Oh! we’ve got it down fine,” laughed Brick. “But how did you make out?”
“I killed a good-sized doe,” replied Jerry. “It was a long-range shot, and I’m rather proud of it. I couldn’t get very close to the herd on account of the wind.”
As he spoke a rasping cry floated toward the mouth of the valley. The startled boys looked out on the swamp, but could see nothing.
“Some animal is lurking in the scrub,” exclaimed Hamp. “Attend to your guns, fellows.”
“I hope it’s not a catamount,” said Brick.
“As likely as not it is,” replied Jerry.
The question was not long in doubt. With a whiningcry, a good-sized wildcat sprang from a clump of alder bushes just beyond the dead deer. It pounced upon the body, and began to rend it with teeth and claws.
“Did you ever see such impudence?” exclaimed Jerry, half angrily. “Come on; we’ll give the little brute a settler.”
The boys moved forward, and not until they reached the edge of the swamp did the wildcat become aware of their presence in the neighborhood. The creature was evidently half famished, and, having found a meal to its liking, it was determined to hold on to it. It stopped eating, and glared at the intruders with a ferocious snarl.
“Watch sharp, now,” cautioned Jerry. “We’ll go pretty close, so as not to run the chance of missing. I’ll kill him with a rifle. If we all fire, the skin will be ruined, and it’s well worth saving.”
This was agreed to. The wildcat remained on the body of the deer until the boys were within four yards. Then it bounded forward six feet, and crouched for another spring.
Jerry took hasty aim, and pulled trigger. The creature was already in air when the shot rang out, and, more by luck than skill, the ball passed through its head. It landed on the snow with a convulsive gasp, and rolled over lifeless at Brick’s feet.
“Pretty close quarters,” remarked Jerry. “A miss is as good as a mile, though. Now we’ve got a skin that is worth keeping.”
“This is the sort of hunting I used to read about in books,” exclaimed Brick. “Four deer and a catamount.Just think of it. I’m afraid I’ll wake up and find I’ve been dreaming.”
The others laughed, and Hamp playfully pinched Brick’s arm.
“We’ve got to stir ourselves now,” said Jerry. “In about an hour and a half it will be dark. The mouth of the valley will make a good camping-place, and after we’ve brought down the sleds and my deer, we’ll build a blazing fire. Then we’ll skin the wildcat, and get the deer swung up to the branches of some of these trees. We won’t do anything more to them until morning.”
“Except cut some steaks off for supper,” added Brick, in a hungry tone.
“Don’t be worried,” Jerry replied. “I’ll give you a supper fit for a king to-night.”
“But what in the world will we ever do with all this venison?” asked Hamp. “It will make an awful pile, even when it is cut up.”
“It certainly will,” admitted Jerry. “There’s only one thing to do that I can see. We’ll take what we can to Chesumcook to-morrow, and when we get a camp picked out, we’ll come back for the rest with two empty sleds.”
This sounded practical, and the matter was dropped. The boys hurried up the valley, and presently came to the deer which Jerry had shot. It was a fine, plump animal, and lay in the very center of the salt lick. Two minutes later they reached the spot where the successful hunt had been planned.
As they emerged from the bushes they made a startling and mysterious discovery. The sleds were gone.
CHAPTER XVI.ON THE TRAIL.
The boys were dumfounded by their loss. The theft was a most daring one, and must have been committed within the past few minutes.
“Somebody will wish he had stayed honest,” muttered Hamp, vengefully. “I’m glad we all have our guns.”
“There was only one thief,” declared Jerry. “Look! you can see the dim marks of his snowshoes. Here’s where he turned the sleds around.”
“And he’s taking them back the way they came,” added Brick. “In the same ruts, too. He must have hitched them together.”
“We’ll catch him,” said Hamp. “He can’t have much of a start. Come on, before it gets dark.”
The boys started eagerly along the trail, unmindful of the wealth of venison they were leaving behind.
At the end of half a mile they were not in sight of the thief. Jerry bent down and scanned the sled marks.
“Something wrong here,” he said. “The trail is no longer double.”
The boys tramped up and down the valley, poking behind every rock and into every clump of bushes and trees. Gradually they became widely separated.
Suddenly a loud shout from Hamp drew his companions to him. His search had proved successful.
Behind a fringe of bushes, at the very base of the left-hand mountain, the faint ruts again appeared on the snow-crust.
“Now for a stern chase,” said Jerry. “Have your guns ready, and don’t make any noise. This way.”
The boys started briskly up the mountain side. Before they had taken many steps they were agreeably surprised to find a broad and easy path that followed a zig-zag course toward the summit.
The boys traveled faster. They were almost at the top of the mountain now. Straight ahead the trail wound narrowly between two steep walls of rock and timber.
Crack! the angry spit of a rifle echoed among the rocks. The ball whistled close over the heads of the lads. They instantly dropped down among the bushes, fearing another shot.
“Let’s all fire at once,” whispered Hamp.
“No, hold on,” cautioned Jerry. “The rascal is safe behind the rocks.”
The next instant a deep, growling voice floated down the ravine.
“Keep back, you chaps. The first one as comes a step nearer will get a bullet through him.”
The boys wisely made no reply. Under cover of the rocks and trees, they crawled a few yards down the path.
“We’re in a hole,” said Jerry. “The thief is up there with the sleds.”
“What are we going to do about it?” asked Brick.
“Well, we’ve got to have our traps back,” said Jerry, “that’s certain. And there’s only one way to do it. Wemust cut down the path as though we were retreating. Then we’ll make a detour and lie in wait for the rascal and try to take him by surprise.”
This plan offered much risk in spite of Jerry’s confident words. But a better course was out of the question.
So the boys rose, and tramped down the winding path, purposely making as much noise as possible, to show that they were retreating. Half-way from the bottom of the valley the boys turned to the left. They followed the rugged mountain side for several hundred yards. Then they mounted straight to the summit and crossed in safety.
Suddenly Jerry uttered a low cry. He sprang forward and snatched a small, dark object that was lying in the snow.
“What is it?” exclaimed his companions.
“A tin dipper,” was the reply. “It must have fallen off one of the sleds.”
Hamp instantly struck a match, and the flame revealed plain sled-marks leading across the valley.
“We’re outwitted again,” groaned Brick. “This is awful luck.”
“Yes; the rascal must have pulled out the minute he heard us go down the ravine,” said Jerry. “By this time he has a big start.”
The situation of the lads was now truly deplorable. Yet their very helplessness made it necessary for them to push on.
The trail of the sleds led to an easy pass in the opposite range of mountains. The boys trudged rapidly throughthis, and emerged in what seemed to be a broad, deep valley.
They pushed on for a quarter of a mile. Then they were stopped by a deep and rapid stream, which was frozen along the edge.
But one match was now left. Hamp cautiously lit it, and it was instantly seen that the thief had turned down the valley.
“We’re still on the right track, anyhow,” said Jerry. “We can’t well miss the rascal, either. He’ll stick to the stream until he finds a place to cross.”
“He won’t find one very soon,” declared Hamp. “This is the Mallowgash Creek, if I’m not mistaken. It flows into Chesumcook, and it’s broad and deep all the way. It’s too swift to freeze.”
“I don’t see a speck of light ahead,” said Brick, as he glanced down the valley. “The thief must be still traveling.”
“And that’s what we’ve got to do,” replied Jerry. “Come on.”
An hour slipped by, and then another. The boys could hardly drag their aching feet along. They yearned to drop down and sleep. But they knew that if they succumbed to the temptation, they would never wake again.
Now the strip of open suddenly faded into a gloomy pine forest that grew to the water’s edge. The boys stumbled from side to side among the trees, and presently came out of the forest into open ground. Some distance ahead a ray of yellow light was visible.
“At last!” muttered Hamp. “We have run the rascal down.”
“Yes; there’s his campfire,” said Brick. “I hope he’s sound asleep.”
“Not too fast, you fellows,” whispered Jerry. “That light is too steady for a fire. But we’ll investigate and make sure.”
He led the boys softly forward. They were moving off from the stream at an angle now. The roar of the water grew fainter with every step. A few yards ahead was a copse of tall bushes, which concealed the yellow gleam.
The boys made a detour around them, and the next instant they were fairly blinded by a dazzling glare of light.
Their eyes quickly became accustomed to it, and then they made an unexpected and joyful discovery.
The light shone from a single window in the end of a long, low house that stood some fifty feet away. The intervening space contained several small sheds, and was strewn with felled trees, many of which had been denuded of bark and branches. From the house came gruff voices and an occasional peal of boisterous laughter.
“We’ve stumbled on a logging camp,” exclaimed Jerry. “That thieving rascal must be inside.”
“He may be one of them,” suggested Hamp. “What are we going to do about it?”
“First of all, we’ll take a peep,” replied Jerry. “I don’t believe the thief belongs here. If he does, we’ll get square treatment, though. Loggers are mostly honest fellows, if they are a bit rough. Come on.”
CHAPTER XVII.FOUND AND LOST.
The boys went cautiously forward among the obstructing trees, and soon reached the end of the loggers’ house. There was probably a hot fire inside, for the window was raised several inches to admit fresh air. The sill was not high from the ground, and the boys ventured to peep in.
They saw banks on two sides of the room. At the far end was a red-hot stove. At the end nearest the window was a long table. Around this sat half a score of burly, rough-looking men. All were smoking pipes but one.
The exception was a tall, muscular fellow of about forty. His face was covered with a stubbly red beard, and its expression was crafty and brutal. Before him were a plate of food and a mug of coffee. He was eating and drinking in the greedy fashion of a hungry pig.
The boys looked on for several minutes. They were too deeply interested to be prudent. But, fortunately, none of the loggers glanced toward the window.
All at once Hamp clutched Jerry’s arm in a strong, excited grip.
“Look!” he whispered. “Over there are our sleds, against the wall.”
“I see them,” replied Jerry. “Hush! don’t make any noise. I want to hear what they are talking about.”
The boys put their heads closer together. They looked and listened. The conversation had been low and unintelligible. Now it suddenly rose to a higher pitch.
“Whar’ve you been all this time, Sparwick?” demanded a red-shirted logger at the head of the table, who seemed to be a leader among his companions. “I reckoned you wasn’t in this part of the country.”
“I reckoned he was in jail,” cried the man next him, with a loud guffaw, and general laughter followed.
The red-bearded man, who was eating, lifted his face from the plate, and scowled angrily.
“I didn’t come here ter be insulted, Thomson,” he replied, addressing the first speaker. “I’ve been workin’ with Bill Jordan’s loggin’ gang up at the head of Chesumcook. I’m goin’ down ter Bangor now fur a spell.”
“Yer seem ter hev kinder struck it rich,” pursued Thomson. “Two sleds an’ a lot of truck!”
“I borrowed ’em up at the camp,” said Sparwick, carelessly. “I’ve got spruce gum packed under the blankets. I oughter realize on it purty handsome.”
He glanced at the sleds; then tilted his chair back.
“Much obliged fur the grub,” he added. “I reckon I’ll take a sleep now, so’s ter pull out at daybreak.”
“Look here, Kyle Sparwick,” said Thomson. “We happen ter need an extry hand badly. Can’t you stay a day or two?”
Sparwick pulled at his short beard.
“I’m afeard not,” he replied, slowly. “I’ve got pressin’ business down at——”
Bang! the window came down with a crash as Jerry’sfingers knocked the plug of wood from under it. The frightened boys jumped back. They heard excited shouts and cries inside.
“Come on,” exclaimed Hamp. “We must face the music. I think we’re sure of square treatment.”
He led his companions around the angle of the house. Just as they reached the door it was flung open by a noisy crowd of loggers.
The boys were dragged inside, and clamored at by a dozen indignant voices. They tried vainly to explain. Finally Thomson restored a semblance of order, and quieted the mob.
“Now, what does this here mean?” he demanded. “You chaps were sneakin’ an’ spyin’ outside that winder. Don’t deny it.”
“We didn’t mean any harm,” stoutly protested Jerry. “We can explain our actions. We came here after our sleds. There they are in the corner, and that’s the man who stole them from us three hours ago.”
He singled out Sparwick from the crowd, and pointed at him.
The detected thief was in a tight place, but he was not prepared to give up. He made a bold attempt at bluffing.
“Them sleds are mine,” he cried. “I’ll wring yer neck, you young liar.”
He sprang forward, and seized Jerry by the collar. He lifted him clear off his feet, and swung him in air.
A chorus of indignant cries rang out. There was a rush from all sides.
“Drop the youngster,” yelled Thomson; and when Sparwick refused to obey, he struck him forcibly on the arm.
Jerry dropped to the floor, and quickly regained his feet.
“I’m telling the truth,” he cried, huskily. “Those are our sleds. I can describe every article on them.”
The ruffian made another rush at the lad, but was jerked back. The loggers seemed to be against Sparwick to a man. Evidently they knew his reputation.
“Sit down thar,” commanded Thomson, pointing to a chair. “An’ don’t yer make no sneak fur the door. We’ll get to the bottom of this affair. Now, youngsters, spin your yarn.”
The boys needed no second bidding. They spoke by turns, and gave a clear and convincing account of their unpleasant adventure. They did not forget to describe the thrilling slaughter of the deer. This part of the narrative caused the loggers to open their eyes and stare incredulously. They slapped their horny hands against their knees.
“That chap tells a heap what ain’t true,” said Sparwick, when Jerry had finished the concluding part of the tale. “I found the sleds, an’ reckoned their owners had lost ’em. As fur me shootin’ at the lads—why, that’s the biggest lie of all. I never laid eyes on ’em until now.”
But no one seemed to believe the rascal. Indeed, they heaped him with ugly names, and made not a few unpleasant threats. Thomson interfered in behalf of peace.
“Everybody knows that Kyle Sparwick can’t keep hishands off other people’s property,” he said. “He’s seen the inside of more’n one jail. Thar’s where he oughter go this time, only I reckon no one’s goin’ ter take him down ter Bangor. Now, I’ve got a propersition ter make -pervided it suits these youngsters. If Kyle Sparwick will agree ter do a week’s work here we won’t prosecute him.”
This suggestion was approved.
“What’s yer answer, prisoner?” demanded Thomson.
“I reckon it’s yes,” muttered Sparwick.
He added something in an undertone as his evil eyes glanced at the boys.
“Then the thing’s settled,” said Thomson. “You can tuck yerself into that bunk yonder just as soon as you please. And now about that kill of deer. We ain’t had any fresh meat fur quiet a spell, an’ I reckon it’ll taste good. Here’s a propersition for you, youngsters. We’ll bring the venison to camp, an’ give you all you kin carry. The rest we’ll keep fur our trouble. How’s that?”
The boys gladly assented, and ten minutes later half-a-dozen of the loggers started for the distant spot. They took with them lanterns, and a long hand-sled. There was no time to lose, for wolves were likely to scent the meat.
Thomson stayed behind and made himself agreeable to the young visitors. He soon knew all about them, and when he heard they were going to Chesumcook Lake, he gave them some valuable information about the locality.
Then he instructed the cook to prepare a warm supper, of which the boys ate greedily.
It was now close to midnight, and they eagerly took possession of the cozy bunks that were assigned to them. The last thing they remembered, before losing consciousness, was Kyle Sparwick’s sleeping figure in another bunk across the room.
Banging and rattling of dishes; clattering footsteps; angry voices and shouts—this was what roused the boys after what seemed to them but a few minutes’ sleep.
They tumbled out of bed, and rubbed their eyes. At first they did not know what to make of the confusion. The misty light of dawn was struggling with the red glow from the cook’s stove. The loggers were up, and clustered together at one side of the room. They were clamoring, and gesticulating, and uttering tremendous threats and oaths.
“Hello, youngsters!” cried Thomson. “Hev you heard the news? That consarned slippery cuss is gone. We might a-knowed better than to put any trust in Kyle Sparwick.”
“How did he get away?” asked Jerry.
“Dunno. He must a-skipped off as soon as we wus all asleep—long about two o’clock. He made a dummy outen a blanket, and an old hat, an’ stuck it in his bunk. There was a lamp burnin’ dim on the table, too.”
“I mind hearin’ a noise,” said a logger named Tommy Bobb; “but I was too sleepy to do more’n sing out, ‘Who’s thar.’”
“You must a-skeered him,” declared Thomson, “an’ that’s why he didn’t take nothing with him—not even his own gun. Thar it rests on the hook.”
“He took something better than a gun,” exclaimed Brick, who had meanwhile been examining his pocket. “He took my gold watch, and a purse with thirty dollars in it. I had some more money in a belt, but that’s all right.”
This declaration caused a renewal of the excitement. The loggers sympathized with Brick, and offered him rude consolation.
“How about you fellers?” asked Tommy Bobb of Hamp and Jerry.
They shook their heads and smiled. The contents of their pockets would have offered no temptation to the meanest sort of a thief.
“I don’t mind the money,” said Brick; “but I hate to lose the watch. I’m going after that sneaking rascal.”
“No use, youngster,” assured Thomson. “Sparwick has a big start. He took an old boat what we had here, an’ went down the Mallowgash. He’d have clear water fur four miles. Then I reckon he’d strike deep inter the woods. If thar was a chance of gettin’ him we’d make up a party. How’s that, boys?”
“Dead right,” exclaimed the loggers, in chorus.
Brick accepted this as final. He was anxious to start for the lake, however, and so were Hamp and Jerry.
But just when breakfast was over the party returned with the dead deer and the wildcat. This caused a delay. As soon as possible the deer were skinned and cut up, and the meat divided. The boys were given all they could carry.
Between eight and nine o’clock they were ready tostart. They parted with the friendly loggers, and tramped briskly across the clearing.
“I say, youngsters,” Thomson yelled after them, “if you should run acrost that sneakin’ Sparwick, jest show a bold front, an’ you’ll have him. He’s a coward at heart, an’ hates a gun barrel worse than pisen.”
CHAPTER XVIII.HAMP’S PERIL.
Neither Brick nor his companions expected to overtake Kyle Sgarwick. They knew that what Thomson said was true. The thief was many hours ahead, and possessed an intricate knowledge of the wilderness.
“I’ll have to let the watch go,” said Brick, in a resigned tone. “I hated to lose it, because it was a present from my father.”
“We may recover it at some pawnshop in Bangor, when we go back,” replied Jerry.
This cheered Brick up a little, and the conversation turned on brighter topics. For mile after mile the boys tramped steadily down the Mallowgash. The air was bitterly cold, but not sufficient to freeze the dashing current and tumbling waves.
“We ought to be near Chesumcook,” said Hamp, at length.
“We are,” replied Jerry. “The logging camp is a good four miles behind us. Pretty soon we’ll get a view of the lake.”
“And what then?” asked Brick.
“Well, I guess the best plan will be to get across the Mallowgash, and push up this side of Chesumcook until we strike a good camping-place.”
“That’s just the thing,” assented Hamp. “Come on. Let’s walk faster.”
Accordingly the boys quickened their pace. The roaring of the near-by stream drowned the slight crunching of the snowshoes and sleds.
At length they reached a bit of a clearing that faced the Mallowgash. Here they paused, startled and pleased by the strange sight that met their gaze.
In the center of the stream was a submerged tree, drifted there by some powerful flood. Only its upper limbs projected from the water. Caught in these was a partly sunken boat. Its bottom had evidently been impaled on one of the sharp, spiky branches. In the precarious and slanting front-end of the craft stood Kyle Sparwick.
The rascal was naked, and in one hand he held his clothes, rolled tightly into a pack. His back was toward the boys, and for half a minute they watched him in silence.
“Serves the rascal right,” muttered Hamp. “He must have struck there hours ago. He couldn’t get the boat loose, and now he’s going to wade.”
“I don’t envy him,” whispered Jerry. “He’ll nearly freeze to death.”
“I wish I had my watch and money,” replied Brick; “but I don’t see any way to get them.”
Just then Sparwick stepped from the boat onto the submerged trunk of the tree. He shivered like a leaf, but without hesitation he lowered himself into the icy water. It came almost to his neck. Holding his clotheshigh overhead, he waded slowly toward the opposite shore.
“Stop, you thief!” shouted Brick, with all his might.
Sparwick nearly lost his balance. He recovered himself, and turned his head. His eyes snapped with fear and danger when he saw the boys. Jerry lifted his rifle, and leveled it across the stream.
“We want that stolen property,” he yelled. “I’ve got the drop on you. Wade over to this shore as quick as you can.”
Sparwick stood still. He tried to speak, but his teeth chattered too much. Then he did a bold and venturesome thing. He flung his clothes safely beyond the heavy fringe of bushes that skirted the opposite bank of the stream. The next instant he vanished before the eyes of the amazed boys. He had dived clear under water.
“Watch for him!” yelled Jerry.
“Pepper him when he comes up,” cried Brick, excitedly.
For half a minute there was silence. The boys eagerly scanned the opposite shore. Then, thirty feet diagonally down stream, something white slipped out of the water, and dodged like a flash into the bushes.
“What beastly luck!” cried Jerry. “I never dreamed of his coming up away down there. He’s out of reach now.”
“And we can’t get across,” moaned Brick. “Good-by to the watch. I wish I had fired when I had the chance.”
“Hold on!” suddenly cried Hamp. “We’ve got a show yet.”
He ran swiftly down stream to a point some twentyfeet below, and opposite to the place where Sparwick had left the water.
Jerry and Brick followed at a slower pace, wondering what was in the wind. They understood as soon as they caught up with Hamp. Here the Mallowgash abruptly widened. It was frozen hard from shore to shore with the exception of a six-foot channel in midstream. Through this the water poured with a swift, steady rush.
“Don’t be a fool,” expostulated Jerry. “You’ll throw your life away.”
“The watch ain’t worth the risk,” added Brick. “Let it go.”
“Don’t worry about me,” cried Hamp. “That’s an easy jump. Don’t you fellows try to follow me, though.”
Before his companions could prevent him, he dashed forward, rifle in hand. He sped swiftly over the first stretch of ice. With an agile leap, he cleared the gap of rushing water, and landed on firm ice beyond.
Suddenly Sparwick crashed through the fringe of bushes. He was attired only in a red flannel shirt. His face was blue with cold, and his beard was a frozen mass of icicles. He glared at the daring lad, and uttered a hoarse cry. In one hand he held a great clod of frozen snow. He drew it back and let fly.
The whole thing was so sudden that Hamp did not have time to lift or use his rifle. The heavy missile struck him forcibly on the breast. He reeled to one side and slipped on the smooth ice. With a piercing cry, he plunged into the swift water.
Sparwick instantly vanished behind the bushes. Wellfor him that he did so. Had he lingered but a moment Brick or Jerry would have shot him in their wrath.
Finding the ruffian out of reach, the two boys turned their eyes anxiously on the open channel.
Hamp’s head and shoulders bobbed to the surface half-a-dozen feet below where he had fallen in. He still retained his hold on the rifle. He made a gallant struggle for life, and succeeded in reaching the rim of ice nearest his companions. He threw the rifle forward, and clung tight.
“Help! help!” he cried. “I’m nearly played out, boys. I’ll have to let go.”
But Brick and Jerry were prompt to the rescue. With great strides they crossed the ice, and soon had Hamp safely beside them. They dragged him over to the bank, and dropped him in a clump of bushes. He was blue and speechless with cold.
“Bring the sleds here, Brick,” cried Jerry. “Quick, while I make a fire. Hamp must have dry clothes and blankets right away.”
Brick dashed off at full speed. When he returned, a moment later, Jerry had heaped up a pile of brush and twigs. Hamp was taking off his dripping clothes as fast as his numbed fingers would allow.
Just as Jerry scraped a match, a crunching noise was heard back from the stream. It grew nearer and louder. The boys stopped their occupations, and glanced in the direction of the sound. A moment later the bushes parted and two men emerged.
The foremost was an old acquaintance, Mr. SilasRaikes. His companion was a sinister-looking fellow, with a heavy black beard and mustache. Both were armed with rifles, and a well-packed hand-sled trailed behind them.
“Hullo!” exclaimed Raikes, in a tone of the utmost surprise. “We meet again, my young friends. This is an unexpected pleasure. Not taking a bath on such a morning as this, I hope.”
“Hamp was compelled to take one,” replied Jerry.
He briefly related the stirring events of the past twenty-four hours, beginning with the start from the far side of Moosehead Lake. Meanwhile the fire blazed up merrily, and Hamp got himself into dry clothes and blankets.
“You’ve had a tough time of it, boys!” commented Silas Raikes. “I’m glad to find that you weathered the storm all right. And so you’re bound in our direction? I had no idea you intended traveling to Chesumcook.”
“That’s what we told you the night you were at our camp,” replied Jerry.
“Then I forgot all about it,” admitted Raikes. “You see, I’ve got a bad memory.”
“Are you still prospecting?” asked Brick.
“Not in this weather,” was the reply. “We’re taking a sort of a roundabout way home.”
“We feared you were lost in the storm,” said Jerry. “After it was over we hunted the neighborhood for your camp.”
“And didn’t find it, eh?” laughed Raikes. “No wonder, lads. We had a snug nest among the rocks, two miles or more from the lake. But pardon me. I quite forgotto introduce my friend, of whom I spoke to you before. This is Joe Bogle, from Augusta, Maine. We’ve been partners for many a year.”
The black-bearded man had been scrutinizing the lads—and Brick in particular—with keen attention. Now he stepped forward, and nodded in response to the introduction.
“I’m glad to meet any friends of my partner,” he said, in a low, oily voice.
A surprised and puzzled look appeared on Brick’s face. He stared intently at Mr. Joe Bogle.
“Haven’t I met you before?” he exclaimed.
CHAPTER XIX.BOGLE SHOWS HIS HAND.
A brief pause followed Brick’s impulsive question. The boys looked on with interest. Raikes gave an almost imperceptible start. Then he drew a pipe from his pocket, and began to clean the bowl industriously with a twig of wood.
Mr. Joe Bogle was the most unconcerned one of the party. A smile lightened his sinister features, and he came quite close to Brick.
“We may have met before, youngster,” he drawled, in a tone that was the exact opposite of the one he had used before. “It’s quite likely, though I can’t say that I remember your face.”
“I guess I’m mistaken,” admitted Brick. “It was your voice that seemed familiar when you first spoke. I don’t notice it now.”
“I’ve often been tricked that way,” said Raikes, laughing. “Lots of people have voices alike. Still, you may have run across Bogle some time or another. How long have you been in Maine?”
“I never was inside the State in my life, until two or three weeks ago,” replied Brick.
“Then I reckon you must be mistaken,” emphatically declared Raikes. “Bogle and I have been in the woods since November.”
“And I haven’t been outside of Maine for nearly fifteen years,” added Bogle. “It ain’t very likely we met before that.”
He laughed in a rasping way. Brick laughed, too. Now that the stranger’s voice had lost its familiar chord, he was satisfied of his mistake, and ceased to think about the matter.
Raikes quickly turned the conversation into a different channel.
“It seems to me,” he said, “that we ought to overhaul that rascally thief, and restore the stolen property to these lads. How does it strike you, Bogle?”
He exchanged a lightning-like glance with his companion. The latter nodded assent.
“That’s right,” he replied. “I’m with you. It won’t take us much out of our way.”
“No,” Raikes continued, “we’ll catch him in a jiffy. He can’t be far off.”
“It would have taken him almost this long to put on his clothes,” said Jerry. “He has snowshoes, though.”
“So have we,” replied Raikes. “If you lads will come along with us, we’ll try to recover the money and watch.”
“Hamp ain’t fit to travel,” answered Jerry. “He’s got to sit over this fire for a couple of hours. And Brick and I can’t leave him alone. Besides, how are you going to cross the Mallowgash? That leap is too dangerous.”
“Just below the bend, yonder, is a clean freeze-over,” replied Raikes. “We were in the act of crossing when we heard you fellows sing out. But one of you ought to go with us to identify the property and bring it back.You see, the rascal may head just in the direction we want to go, and; under them circumstances, we wouldn’t care about tramping all the way back.”
“I’ll go with you,” eagerly exclaimed Brick. “I’d like to be on hand when you corner Sparwick, and make him fork over.”
A sudden gleam passed over Bogle’s face. Raikes twisted his mustache and looked across the stream.
“It don’t matter which one of you goes,” he replied, carelessly. “Come on, youngster, if the rest are willing.”
Jerry and Hamp had no objections to offer. They knew that Brick was eager for the chase, and they saw no reason why he should not accept the friendly offer of the two genial strangers. It was his money and his watch that were at stake.
Brick filled his belt with fresh cartridges, and shouldered his rifle. Then he started briskly down stream with Raikes and Bogle.
As soon as they rounded the bend, the party found the channel frozen tightly from shore to shore. They crossed over and went up the other side. They soon found Sparwick’s trail, leading off from the Mallowgash at a right angle. After apprising Jerry and Hamp of this fact by a shrill whistle—the signal agreed upon—they took up the chase.
For a mile they pushed on through heavy forest and rocks. The men went at a rapid pace, and Brick easily kept up with them.
“We’ll overhaul the rascal before long,” assured Raikes. “You’ll get back to your companions in time for dinner.”
But at the end of another mile Sparwick was still invisible; nor did the scant-marks of his snowshoes appear to be particularly fresh. He evidently suspected pursuit, and was moving at his top speed.
Presently the trail turned due north. During the next half hour the pursuers caught an occasional glimpse of Chesumcook Lake from high ground. They pushed steadily on, until Brick began to feel a little weary. He admitted as much to his companions.
“Don’t give up yet, my lad,” said Raikes. “Now that you’ve come this far, you may as well finish. The rascal can’t keep ahead of us long.”
“And when we get your watch and money, we’ll take you part of the way back,” added Bogle.
“If you’ll do that, it’s all right,” replied Brick. “It’s a long distance to where we left the boys, and I might get lost by myself. It must be dinner time now.”
“I reckon it is,” admitted Raikes.
He looked up at the sun, which was dimly visible through a bank of fleecy clouds.
“Shall we have a bite to eat?” asked Bogle, glancing at the sled.
Raikes shook his head.
“Better not stop now,” he replied. “Every minute is precious.”
They pushed on rapidly, spurring Brick to greater efforts by repeated words of cheer. Now and then they bent over to examine Sparwick’s trail, or whispered together in low tones.
An hour after midday, a strip of open ground wasreached. It had probably been devastated at one time by a forest fire.
Sparwick’s trail led across the clearing to within a dozen feet of a brook. Then it turned abruptly and entered the thick forest, in the direction of the lake.
Raikes stooped down, and intently examined the imprint of the snowshoes.
“What do you think of it?” he asked of Bogle.
“Not very fresh, eh?” replied Raikes.
“Exactly. The scamp is traveling at a two-forty gait. It will be wasting time to keep this up any longer.”
“And the game’s not worth the candle, anyhow,” added Raikes.
He looked meaningly at his companion. They moved away from Brick to a ledge of rocks that extended clear to the brook. For several minutes they conversed in low tones. They pointed first to the stream, and then to the rocks on which they stood. The latter, owing to their exposed position, had been blown full of snow. Finally the men returned to Brick.
“We’ve decided to give up the pursuit,” said Raikes. “Instead of gaining, we’ve been falling behind.”
“Sorry we brought you on such a wild-goose chase,” added Bogle, “but it can’t be helped.”
“I don’t care much,” replied Brick. “Only it’s a long ways back. Are you going with me?”
“I reckon not,” said Bogle. “In fact, you had better go along with us. You’re pretty tired, lad, so I’ll carry your rifle for you.”
By a quick movement, he snatched the weapon.
The act and the words startled Brick. He suddenly realized that his companion had some evil design against him.
“Give me my rifle,” he said. “I can find the way back alone. The boys are likely to meet me.”
Bogle scowled savagely.
“Don’t get obstinate, youngster,” he said, in a sharp tone. “I told you before that you were going with us. Now march! we have no time to lose.”
Again Brick recognized the familiar chord in the man’s voice. Like a flash, he remembered where he had heard it. The discovery so angered him that he forgot every instinct of prudence.
“I know you now,” he cried. “You can’t fool me with your beard and mustache. You are the missionary who was on the train that night. You followed me and tried to steal my pocketbook.”
The ferocious expression that instantly appeared on Bogle’s face told Brick he had done a foolish thing. His dread of consequences led him to commit another blunder. He turned and dashed at full speed across the clearing.
A hoarse command to stop fell on his ears. He disregarded it and ran faster. He heard crunching footsteps behind him. Then one of his snowshoes caught in a tuft of bushes, and he sprawled headlong. As he rose to his feet, a muscular hand clutched his collar. He wheeled around to meet Bogle’s grim and angry face.
“I’ve got you,” growled the ruffian. “Don’t try another trick of this sort, youngster, or you’ll be sorry.”
“Let me go!” cried Brick. “Let me go, I say. It’s you that will be sorry!”
Fear and terror lent him strength. He struggled desperately to break loose. In the short scuffle that followed he was roughly handled. A blow on the nose from Bogle’s fist partially stunned him and drew blood. He realized the folly of further efforts, and meekly submitted to be dragged back.
“I told you not to be rough,” remonstrated Raikes. “The lad’s nose is bleeding, and there’s blood on the snow. How are you going to hide it?”
“It won’t matter,” replied Bogle. “It’s his own fault. He had no business to struggle. I hit him accidentally. Use your handkerchief, youngster.”
Brick did so, and in a short time the bleeding stopped. He quietly let Bogle search him, and the belt of money that he wore under his clothes, was soon brought to light. The men opened it greedily, and counted over the gold coins and banknotes.
“You’re welcome to that, since I can’t help myself,” said Brick, in a sullen tone. “And now I suppose you’ll let me go.”
Raikes looked at his companion, and shrugged his shoulders.
“No; we won’t let you go,” replied Bogle, savagely. “The cash will do very nicely, but just at present we want you more than anything else. And here’s a word of advice, youngster. You’ll do well to heed it, for I’m not given to idle speech. Keep your mouth shut, and ask no questions. Obey orders, and you shan’t be harmed. Ifyou try to escape, I’ll put a bullet through you. How’s that, Silas?”
“Couldn’t be any plainer,” assented Raikes. “I hope you understand, lad.”
Brick did not reply. He was pretty badly scared by Bogle’s threats, and had no intention of disobeying. The whole affair was a profound mystery. He could not imagine what his captors wanted with him, now that they had all his money.
“I guess they intend to keep me prisoner for a while,” he reflected, “so they will have a better chance to escape.”
Then a darker thought entered his mind, and brought a gleam of terrible anxiety to his face. Supposing they should make an attempt upon his life?