CHAPTER XXIII.ARRESTS ARE MADE.
There was a tremendous din in the cavern as the bear shot out of the opening. The wailing of the cubs at the rear, the volley of rifle shots at the front, and the smell of powder smoke confused Carl for a moment. Then he crept forward to the entrance, almost entirely concealed by the smoke, and looked out into the brilliant sunlight.
The bear lay dead on the slope, but the men gathered about her were not congratulating themselves on their victory, or, in fact, paying any attention to the vanquished enemy. Their eyes were fixed on an aeroplane which was speeding in from the west, evidently heading for the summit just above the camp.
“That’s not one of the machines belonging to the boys,” Carl heard some one say.
“I thought,” another man complained, “that we were getting out of the zone of civilization when we struck British Columbia.”
“I thought so, too,” another voice said, “but we’re running up against impertinent Britishers, and flying machines, and many other nuisances which belong entirely on the paved streets and in the air above the town.”
The machine was now so close to the group, and also to the entrance to the cavern, that the rattle of the motors well-nigh drowned the sound of conversation. Still, directly, Carl heard some one shout that there were three men on the machine, and that one of them was Dick Sherman, the chief of the mounted police of that district.
The boy uttered a sigh of relief and moved out of the cavern to be greeted with shouts of laughter and many alleged jokes.
“How do you like living with the bears?” one of the hunters demanded.
“Bears are all right!” replied Carl. “There’re about a dozen baby bears in there! They seem to be cute little fellows, with good voices.”
“What do you say, boys; say we all take a baby bear home with us!” asked one of the hunters.
The question was greeted with applause, and half a dozen men immediately made a dash for the cavern. Before long two came out carrying cubs, probably from four to eight weeks of age.
“Where are the others?” asked Carl. “Why didn’t you all get one?”
“There were only two!” was the answer.
“Only two!” repeated Carl. “They made noise enough for two hundred! I thought all the forty bears who came out of the wilderness and devoured the two children were on deck!”
“I guess you’re mixed in your Sunday school lesson!” one of the men remarked.
“Perhaps,” Carl admitted. “It might have been two bears and forty children. I don’t know. What I intended to convey was the idea that there was noise enough in there to represent a thousand bear cubs.”
The aeroplane, sailing very low, now passed almost through the group of men, and Dick Sherman waved a hand in greeting at the boy.
“Do you know him?” asked one of the hunters turning to Carl.
“Sure I know him!” answered Carl. “I got him a supper down at our camp which put two inches of fat on his ribs.”
“Then if you know him well,” the hunter went on, “tell him, for the love of Mike, to quit nosing around our camp looking for some criminal who is probably in Washington, D. C.”
“Has he been watching your camp?” asked Carl in wonder.
“He certainly has!” was the reply. “He’s been nosing about here, at times, ever since we came in! What do you think he wants now?”
“I think he came after me!” replied Carl.
The aeroplane was now seen to land on the level space between the tents on the plateau, and Sherman and his two companions left their seats and approached a group of men standing by the fire.
One of the men, Carl saw, was Neil Howell, and the other was the burly fellow who had ordered him into his tent that morning. At that time the boy did not know Howell by sight, although he had often heard his name spoken there. It was only after a time that he learned who the second man was. Before the boy and those with him reached the tents, they saw a gleam of steel and the suddenness with which handcuffs were clasped on the wrists of Howell and his burly companion almost took their breath away. The men gazed at each other inquiringly.
“Do you know what it means?” one of them asked Carl.
“I haven’t the least idea!” was the answer.
“Why, that’s Neil Howell, the noted Wall street operator! I don’t understand what he’s placed under arrest for!” one of the men declared.
“I presume Dick Sherman knows what he’s doing!” Carl suggested.
“I don’t doubt that!” the man replied.
The three officers were now walking swiftly about the camp in opposite directions, evidently searching for some one not in view. A hunter standing by the boy’s side glanced his eye over the group.
“It must be Frank Harris they want,” he said. “He’s the only one that isn’t here.”
“Frank Harris went down the slope to the west not long ago!” another said. “I guess he’s looking for another bear cub.”
But if Frank Harris was indeed looking for the third bear cub his search must have been a long one, for neither then nor at any other time did any member of the hunting party set eyes upon him again. Secret service men are looking for him to this day. How he got out of the wilderness no one knows, but get out he did, and out of the country, too, for that matter.
After concluding the search, Dick Sherman came to where Carl was standing by the machine.
“Where’s that Englishman of yours?” he asked.
“Do you want the Englishman, too?” demanded the boy.
“Of course I want the Englishman!” replied the officer. “Do you think I’d be apt to find him over at your camp?”
“I haven’t a doubt of it!” answered Carl. “Although I haven’t been to the camp since yesterday. This man Howell and his chums were so stuck on my sweet society that they kept me here all night!”
“I’d keep you here about fifteen minutes if I had my way now!” Howell muttered.
“He thinks you sent out information which led to his arrest!” commented one of the hunters. “He’ll get even with you yet!”
“I didn’t have any information to send out!” declared Carl.
“Then who did send it out?” shouted Howell.
“You can search me!” Carl replied.
Dick Sherman looked over to one of his deputies with a smile but said nothing. He merely ordered the two prisoners on to the machine and prepared to take to the air.
“I’ll take these fellows over to your camp,” he said to Carl, “and send one of the boys back after you and my deputies. They can come with one of your machines, and this one of mine, and bring the whole crowd at one trip.”
“All right,” laughed Carl, “I’ll be mighty glad to get back to that good old camp again! You see,” he explained, “when we get out on a trip of this kind, we usually pitch our tents and then go off and leave them. I haven’t slept there one night since we built the first camp-fire!”
“How long will it take?” asked one of the hunters.
“Probably an hour each way,” was the reply.
“Well, we’ll see that the boy is taken good care of while you’re gone!” the hunter said with a smile.
“And when you get settled down to conversation with this kid,” suggested another hunter, “you just ask him to tell the story about the two bear cubs in the cavern. He’s a nervy little fellow!”
In something less than two hours, two machines came sailing over the valley, making for the plateau. When at last they landed, Carl was greatly surprised at seeing Mr. Havens seated on theAnn. Dick Sherman was riding his own machine.
“I thought you couldn’t get out of bed!” shouted Carl to the millionaire.
“I’m fit to ride a thousand miles to-day,” smiled the millionaire, “but I don’t think I could walk ten feet to save my life!”
“When I got over to your camp,” Dick Sherman explained, “I found Mr. Havens alone. He says you boys have left him alone every minute of the time since the camp was built.”
“Not quite so bad as that,” laughed the aviator.
“It’s pretty near as bad as that,” Carl admitted.
“When I got over to the camp,” the official went on, “Mr. Havens told me that the others had gone to the smugglers’ cavern. There’s something queer going on over there,” the official continued, “but Mr. Havens wouldn’t tell me what it is. He said for me to tie my prisoners up good and safe and come along with him, if I wanted to find out what was doing.”
“I hope you tied ’em up good and safe!” Carl suggested.
“They’re safe enough!” replied Mr. Havens.
Carl now stepped into theAnnwith Mr. Havens and the two, after bidding good-bye to the friendly hunters, shot away down the valley toward the smugglers’ cavern, closely followed by the official machine and the three officers.
As soon as the machines departed the hunters set about breaking camp, as they had decided to leave that night.
“Ever since we’ve been here,” one of them declared, “we’ve been heels over head in trouble. Who introduced us to this Neil Howell and Frank Harris, anyway?”
“I’ll be blessed if I remember,” another answered. “The first time I saw Harris he came to us in company with the Englishman and asked me to join in a hunting trip.”
“By the way, where is the Englishman?” asked the other.
“That’s one of the mysteries of the camp,” the first speaker replied. “He disappeared most unexpectedly one morning and Howell and Harris both began calling him a thief and telling what he’d stolen.”
“I heard that story about his stealing a burro and a lot of money,” said the other, “but I never believed it.”
“No one believes it!” was the reply and the hunters standing about quickly assented.
“And here’s another thing I never understood about this camp,” another declared, “and that’s the red and green signals we’ve seen in the fire nights. What did they mean?”
“Harris and Howell said they were sending beacons to a friendly camp across the valley,” one of them answered, “but I never believed that. Who knows what Howell and Chubby were arrested for?”
No one knew at that time, and no one suspected, until they read the sensational stories of the Colleton case in the San Francisco newspapers.
At sundown the men had their mules brought in from pasture and given a feed of oats preparatory to the work of the next day.
They went to sleep with their belongings all made up into neat bundles, and by sunrise they were away, headed for the nearest town on the Canadian Pacific line.