“If this thing was done with the help of any of the postoffice men, it ought not to be a hard matter to trace it down,” suggested Garry. “How about the man who delivers the mail with the flivver to Coldenham when the pulp mill owner’s private road isn’t running?”“He’s all right, cousin o’ mine; bank on his being honest,” returned Dud.He was silent a minute and then burst out:“By ginger, it’s funny I didn’t think o’ that before. Find out one thing, and you’ll have a good start. Find out if the robberies happen to the mail that is delivered by my cousin or on the train that runs between Hobart and Coldenham, and there’s your start.”“Why, how will that help us?” inquired Garry.“Why, dad blame it, the engineer o’ that train is a brother-in-law of Lafe Green!”This surprising piece of news threw all into a silence for a moment.“You see how simple things are now?” queried Dud. “If you can find out that letters are all right when they leave the Hobart postoffice, and are all wrong when they get delivered to Coldenham, then you have half the work done, and you can be pretty certain that Lafe is back of it.”“That’s step number one, then,” said Garry. “Let’s hustle back to town and have a little chat with Denton. Which way are you bound, Dud?”“I’m off for about two or three days in the woods. Need some money and so can’t afford to loaf; besides, these be great days for wandering through the forest, and can’t afford to miss one of ’em. We’re due for good weather for a week or two, then we’re due for a spell o’ rainy days. All signs pint that way. So good luck to you. I’ll look ye up when I get back, either here or in town. Ought to catch you one place or t’other.”Dud shouldered his pack, and loped off into the woods with a wave of his hand at the chums, and soon disappeared from view.The boys hastened to straighten out the camp after their dinner and then prepared to go to town.“What say we do same as we did last time—cache the foodstuff in one of the trees near here; that will prevent any marauder from making off with it, and leaving us hungry some night?” asked Dick.“Good enough,” said Garry. “We can use the same tree, since it is already marked so we can readily recognize it.”This was done and the trio proceeded townwards. Arriving at the postoffice they found Denton sitting on the wide porch that stretched for the full length of the store, gossiping with several old men of the village.He hailed the boys as he saw them approach, and when they climbed up onto the porch invited them to come inside.He led the way back to his little cubbyhole office, and when they were seated, asked what luck they had had.Garry replied that little had been done and little could be until they had asked him some questions.“First thing,” said the leader of the Rangers, “has Simmons, the inspector, been here yet?”“Yes, drat him, only left a little while ago,” was the sour reply.“Why, what’s the matter?” asked Garry in surprise, at the tone of Denton’s voice.“Seems to think I know all about this matter, and says he thinks half the trouble is right here. Asked a lot of fool questions about the letters sent to the Everetts and darn few about the stolen mail. Seemed to be most interested in the contents of the safe. Made me check over all the stamps and the cash of the postoffice, and wanted to know how much money was generally kept there, and if it was cared for safely, and all that sort of stuff. Seems kind of funny he’d be worried more about a couple or three hundred dollars of postoffice money than about Ferguson’s missing checks, which now total up nearly three thousand dollars. I think he has an idea I’ve stolen the dratted checks myself.”The boys did not pay too serious attention to Denton’s tirade against the inspector, for they thought that his brusque manner, a little of which had been displayed to them, had riled the postmaster.Dick said so in as many words, and laughed a little at Denton’s ruffled feelings. “What did he say about us?” asked Dick.“Well, young feller, you think I’m put out at the way Simmons talked to me, here’s a little for yourself. He told me not to have anything to do with that parcel o’ dime novel reading boys that had come to town to tell the postoffice how to run its business. So there’s one for you!”This time it was Dick’s turn to be ruffled, and in fact so were his chums.“It’s plain to be seen that there can be little cooperation between us and the inspector,” said Garry after everyone had cooled down a trifle. “I think we had better proceed in our own way, being ready of course to do anything that Simmons asks us to do. Now, if you feel that you can give us any private information, Mr. Denton, we’d be glad to have it. We have one clue now that may be worth following. Can you tell us when most of the letters that contain the checks are delivered and how?”“Surely can,” answered Denton. “They’re registered, and generally come in on the noon train that goes across the border. That has most of the mail from the big cities. Most of the mail that comes on the local trains is only from Bangor and smaller towns along the way. That means that it’s delivered on Ferguson’s one-horse train. We call it the creeper around here, it’s so wheezy and slow. It comes in mornings dragging a load of pulp which is generally left in the storehouse that Ferguson has here until he gets a sizable amount, then a freight train takes it from here to the paper mills down the line. Late afternoon it makes a return trip.”“I always aim to put the registered mail and most of the Ferguson mail on that train, for the carrier doesn’t start until later than the train.”Garry looked significantly at his pals, and warned them with a look to let him do all the talking.“What makes you ask about that?” asked Denton.“Why, we only have a hunch that it would be a good thing to check the deliveries along the route and see if there is any way of ascertaining where the letters might be opened,” answered Garry, who decided that they had better keep their ideas to themselves for a while, until they found there was basis for suspicion, or else found they were on a wild goose chase. If the latter were the case, they did not want everyone to laugh at them for their foolish hunch.The answer seemed to satisfy Denton, and he said:“As for giving you boys any help, you can count on me every minute. I know what you chaps have done, and I kinder like you, and I don’t like that man Simmons at all. In fact if he don’t show some signs of life and do something after he’s been here for a reasonable time, I am going to write the department and ask that another inspector be sent that won’t bother about the stamps, which have a regular inspection every so often, and will put his time in on the right matter.”There was nothing further that the boys could ask then, so they went out into the store.“Better buy something so that we will seem to have a purpose in coming to the store other than our real one,” whispered Phil to Garry.Garry nodded his head, and for the benefit of those who were sitting out on the porch and who he knew were probably inveterate gossipers, they made a few minor purchases, leaving them to be called for on their way back to the lean-to.Then they went to Aunt Abbie’s to see their friends, and found that Mr. Everett was out but that Ruth was at home. She greeted them with sparkling eyes, and her whole manner indicated the she had some very important secret or idea in her keeping. The boys could not help but notice this, and pressed her to tell them what she was so excited about.The girl, however, steadfastly refused to divulge her thoughts, and seeing that she had made them curious to a great degree, teased them considerably about what she called “womanish curiosity.”It was well along in the afternoon by now, and the boys, refusing Aunt Abbie’s pressing invitation to stay for supper, withdrew to make their way back to their camp. They wanted to talk over the new angle in the case, which might mean a trip to Coldenham first, rather than a search of Lafe Green’s house. That could probably come later.They arrived at camp just before dusk and set about the routine of preparing the evening meal. As the boys worked, Dick remarked that he did not think he had enough boughs for a bed, as he was heavier than the others and would sink in them much more easily.The chums laughed at this, and Dick retorted:“Go on, just because you skinny fellows can sleep on two branches and a stone is no reason I should be uncomfortable. Go on, start the supper while I get some more boughs.”“How about you helping out a little on the supper?” queried Phil.“I’ll tell you what I’ll do. You get the supper and let me get some more stuffing for under my blanket, and I’ll wash the dishes.”This announcement was like a thunderbolt, for Dick hated dish washing above anything else. He would cut wood or carry water or cook without a murmur, but dish washing drew one constant grumble from him.“Gosh, Garry, let him get all the boughs he wants. When Dick offers voluntarily to wash the dishes, it’s a day to celebrate. By the way, Dick, you might bring a few extra ones for me while you’re at it.”“Dick must be sick or something,” laughed Garry, as he watched the fat boy depart.In a short time Dick came struggling back under a load of boughs, and as supper was not yet ready, decided to re-arrange his bunk while waiting. He went into the lean-to and kicked away the boughs he had already placed.Then his chums were startled out of a year’s growth by hearing him utter a piercing scream.CHAPTER VAN INDIAN TRICKWith the scream still ringing in their ears, Garry and Phil dashed into the lean-to to discover Dick staring spellbound at the ground.“Look,” he gasped.The boys cast their eyes on the ground, and beheld a big rattlesnake, stone dead.“Did you kill it, Dick?” was Garry’s first question.“No, it was laying there under the boughs that made my sleeping place. Gosh, it scared me, I can tell you. I don’t know what made me scream so. I guess it was just the thought that it might have been alive, and that I would have laid down there tonight. I saw that it was dead, of course, the minute I looked at it, but I couldn’t help letting out that yelp. Ugh, it makes me creep now to think of it. Wonder how it chose that place to die?”“Must have crawled in and then gave up the ghost,” said Phil.In the meantime Garry had been examining the reptile’s body.“That snake was killed by a human being,” he announced. “See, its head is crushed, and it has been hit several times with a club. Don’t see how it could have crawled very far after being mashed up that way.”“What do you mean?” was the startled question of Dick.“Looks suspiciously like an ill-timed practical joke to me,” answered Garry. “Of course it is foolish to think we are the only ones that ever come near here, and some passerby or camper might have killed it and seeing that this place was occupied, hidden it there to do just what it did—scare one of us half to death. Any snake is bad enough, but a rattler, even a dead one, is enough to shake anyone’s nerve for a minute.”“Well, let’s throw the thing away and forget about it,” said Phil.“I think I remember Dud say once that among his many occupations and ways of making a living in the woods, was by skinning a snake whenever he happened to kill one, and selling the skin. There are some people who want such things for curios, but blessed if I would want one,” said Dick. “Chuck it outside and next time we see him we can tell him he can have it.”“Wonder if Dud would have done that for a joke,” asked Phil.“I doubt that,” said Garry. “Dudley is too sensible a person to play a fool trick like that, knowing how it would startle anyone. No, whoever did that was half foolish. Gosh, there’s the coffee boiling over,” and Garry dashed to the campfire. They forbore talking about the snake during supper, and were about to forget it, when Garry looked at his chums with a gleam of understanding.“Listen, you two. I may be wrong, but am more likely right. I just happened to remember something that gives me the creeps. If I’m right, it is the most dastardly attempt to kill a person that I ever heard of.”“Gosh, don’t give a lecture; tell us what you mean,” broke in Dick.“It’s just this. That dead rattler was put there with a distinct purpose by some one who wants us out of the way!”“You don’t think anyone is foolish enough to believe that a dead reptile would drive us away do you? Of course we would be startled, but it wouldn’t make us run out of the country,” scoffed Phil.“No, you don’t get the point at all,” said Garry, his face paling at the thought. “Haven’t you ever heard that the mate of a dead snake will always find the body and wait there, sometimes for days? It must be some instinct that makes it think the killer of its mate will come that way, and enable him to get revenge.”The truth of this sank in with such appalling suddenness that the boys were speechless for a moment.When at last Dick found his voice, he said in a trembling tone that he tried to conceal but could not:“Why, that means that I might have been bitten as I slept tonight; and not only that, but all three of us might have met the same fate. Who do you suppose was at the bottom of that attempt on our lives?”“Well,” remarked Garry grimly, “I can think of only one person who would have been fiendish enough to do that, let alone think of it. It’s an old Indian trick to get rid of an enemy without leaving a trace. Boys, just as sure as we’re sitting here, Jean LeBlanc is back on our trail, and that snake was put there by none other than our halfbreed enemy!”“That means step carefully every minute then, doesn’t it?” asked Phil.“You bet it does,” responded Garry. “From now on we go back to our old system of night watches. Two hours and a half of duty for each of us every night while we are in the woods, and eyes in the back of our heads all the time.”“Do you suppose Lafe Green could have done that?” queried Phil. “You know he gave a pretty significant warning to you last night, Garry.”“No, I don’t believe he would have thought of that, and besides he was around town all day, as you will remember Denton told us when we asked him. It means that LeBlanc has come back and they have joined forces.”The chums carefully searched every nook and corner of the lean-to, and shook out the boughs that made their bunks, for they did not know what other infernal contrivance their enemies might have laying in wait for them.It was also agreed to keep the campfire going all through the night, the boy being on sentry duty being detailed to keep it supplied with fuel. To this end, all hands turned out for a few minutes and gathered firewood. A sharp watch was kept for the mate of the rattler, and before turning in, it was carried several feet away from the camp, and thrown at the foot of a tree.“You know I have an idea that whoever did that, or rather say LeBlanc, since we are morally certain it was his work, will come back here tomorrow to see if his ruse worked. If he finds us gone, he will be likely to look under the boughs to see if the reptile is still there. Now we are not certain that it is LeBlanc or Green, it may be someone else. In that case we would want to know what he looked like. So here is my idea. Just before we leave in the morning, I am going to rig up a camera trap,” said Dick.“A what?” asked Phil.“Camera trap; haven’t you ever heard of one? They’re often used in the woods by people who want to get good pictures of wild animal life. You just fix a place for the camera and focus it on a spot, then set a trap that will pull down the lever when it is stepped on or moved. Simple as A B C. I’ve never done it before, but I know how to construct one. We’ll do it first thing in the morning.”By this time it had become quite dark, and the boys turned in, except for Phil, who drew the first tour of sentry duty. Warning him to keep his eyes and ears open every minute, Garry and Dick rolled into their blankets.Phil was as restless as a cat on a hot plate. Every snapping twig or soughing of the breeze through the trees made him jump. He made constant patrols around the lean-to, snapping on his pocket electric light as soon as he got out of the range of the light afforded by the campfire.Nothing, however, developed during his watch, and it was with a bit of relief that the end of the two and a half hour period came. He awakened Garry, who was to take the second watch, and soon was curled up in his blanket and fast asleep.Garry felt much the same as Phil had, although he took things easier, for he was not of the sensitively nervous type as was Phil.Nevertheless, he too was glad to call Dick. It was not that the boys were in any way cowards, for they were not. Had it been a human being whom they expected, they would have thought nothing of it; rather they would have considered it a welcome bit of excitement. But this was an entirely different matter—a creeping enemy that would come on them unawares, and which was more dangerous than human being or animal could have been.Dick yawned and grumbled when Garry shook him, then he rubbed the sleep out of his eyes, and looked to see that his rifle was in good working order.“Anything stirring?” he asked, as Garry handed over the electric torchlight to him.“Nothing breezing yet; keep your eyes peeled,” whispered Garry.Dick took a round of the lean-to, then running true to form, rummaged around till he found a package of cookies he had bought the previous day, and munched away at them as he watched. He kept his eyes glued to the spot where the dead reptile had been thrown, flashing his light there at momentary intervals.Then another thought struck him. He now wondered whether the snake would go directly to the body, or whether it would come first to where its mate had originally been. This made Dick jump to his feet, for he had been sitting with his back to the lean-to where his chums were asleep, where he could watch everything for several feet around in the gleam of the campfire. He patrolled the camp, and then came and threw fresh wood on the fire. As the dry branches caught and burst into a bright flame, he cast one look at the spot where the dead snake had been put, then let out a yell, and throwing his rifle to his shoulder, fired after a hasty but accurate aim. He emptied the magazine before he stopped firing.The shots brought his companions tumbling out with their rifles.“What is it Dick?” shouted Garry.“Gosh, it’s a wonder I had presence of mind enough to shoot,” shivered Dick. “I looked at the place once and saw nothing, then made a patrol of the camp and threw on some more wood. It couldn’t have been quite five minutes when I looked at the spot once more, and there, coiled up was a real live snake. Let’s go over and see if it’s dead.”“Careful now; throw on some more wood and get your flashlights out,” ordered Garry. “Dick, you take the three of them, they’ll give a fine light. Phil, you and I will take our rifles, and we’ll edge over there very slowly. Be ready to shoot on the instant.”“Wait a minute,” said Phil. “Bullets won’t always kill a snake. Get a pole and be ready to break its spinal cord with a good blow. One can keep his rifle ready. A rattler can’t strike without coiling, and if it is alive it’s probably threshing around from the bullets. Here, grab this heavy sapling that forms a support for this side of the lean-to.”It was only an instant to tear away the pole, and then with Dick holding the flashlights they advanced cautiously. When they reached the spot they heard no warning rattle. The rattle snake never strikes without first whirring the button-like appendages on the tail. They looked and saw that Dick’s aim had been deadly. Dick’s magazine rifle contained fifteen bullets, and he had emptied the whole of them at the snake. One had taken deadly effect, smashing the reptile’s head, and one or more had severed the spinal column.“Ugh, that’s over with, unless they bring some of their cousins and aunts,” said Dick with a little shudder.Dick’s remark brought a relief to the tension, and the others laughed heartily.“No, it’s all over now,” said Garry. “We’ll heave these things far into the woods and forget about it. Mark where we put them and Dud can have the skins. Now let’s get back to bed. Just to be safe, however, Dick you finish the night watch.”Quiet then reigned in the camp, and Dick waited contentedly until dawn, when he started the coffee and then awakened his companions.Immediately after breakfast, Dick set about making his camera trap.“First thing we must do,” he announced, “is to make this lean-to so that there is only one entrance. That’s because I can focus the camera to cover only so much ground. Best way to do is to lay two or three more saplings crosswise between the two brush shacks, and weave some branches on them.”All three set to work and made the lean-to inaccessible on one side. This was done by laying four saplings across the opening and fastening them to the uprights that held the lean-tos. On these were hung quantities of branches, which were then twisted in and out of each other much as one would weave a basket. This is the usual way to make a brush house in the woods, and so constructed, they are easy to make and all right for good weather. Of course a heavy rain will soon penetrate, and so they are not generally used for permanent camps. Still, when they are properly prepared, and thickly woven, these houses will keep out an ordinary summer shower.“There, how’s that for a job?” asked Garry.“Pretty good, except for one thing. We’ll need some more branches so as to make that wall extra thick, because it is in that that I am going to mask the camera,” answered Dick, who was superintending the job since it was his idea.This was soon done, and then they stepped back and surveyed their handiwork.“Now what’s the next step?” queried Phil.“Next thing to do is to dig a shallow trench two feet square and six to eight inches deep. Only way I see to do that without a shovel is to use our hatchets as pickaxes, and then scrape away the dirt with our hands.”“What’s the idea of the trench?” asked Garry.“You ought to be able to see that without asking questions. That’s what I’ll use to lay some sort of a platform on that will cause the lever of the camera to snap. Thing that stumps me just now is how to make that platform. Before we cross that bridge, however, let’s get that trench fixed. On second thought, it need be only about three inches deep. I am beginning to see light.”The work of making the trench was simple, and when it had been completed, Dick ordered them to get about a dozen thin saplings.“Strikes me the fat boy is pretty good at bossing, isn’t he, Garry?” said Phil with a laugh.“Go on now, get those saplings. You see before you a mighty inventor who cannot be bothered with menial tasks,” said Dick in a lofty tone.“Don’t know whether to trip him up and sit on him, or just ignore him,” said Garry to Phil.Still chaffing good naturedly, the two set out for the saplings, while Dick busied himself with setting his camera in the brush, masking it so that only the lens appeared. Having done this, he stepped away a few feet and looked to see if it was observable. He decided that no one could see it without looking for it especially.Garry and Phil came back and stood for a moment, looking straight at the brush screen that had been erected.“Why didn’t you improve the shining moments and put your camera in place?” asked Garry as he saw the closed case lying on the ground.“Fine!” exclaimed Dick delightedly. “It’s there already, and if you boys who know about it couldn’t see it, then certainly no one else will. Now for the trap.”The making of the trap was a delicate process. First he took two sticks and laid them crossways at each end of the trench. Then he anchored these securely at each end, putting dirt on them and stamping it down with his heavy shoe packs so that it would not stir in the slightest degree.Next he delved into his knapsack and brought out some strong but thin linen cord they had bought some time previously and which had served them well at various times, since it was light enough to do fairly delicate work with, yet strong enough to bear some strain. He ran a length of this from the lever on the camera to a sapling which was laid across the two supports that he had built. With this as a guide, he attached a dozen threads a foot or two from where the nearest sapling began.The next thing was to run the main string down and under one of the sapling supports on the brush screen where the camera was concealed. He smoothed away the bark from the wood so that the string would slip easily, and then ran it back up to the ridge of the lean-to. From there it was brought across and down to the ground, where the trap was to be laid.“You see the idea, now, don’t you?” Dick asked.“Well, we have vague glimmerings, and that is all,” answered Garry, speaking for himself and Phil.“The thing is simple enough. This cord has been brought around so that it is attached to the lever and to this trap. When someone steps on the trap, it will sink just enough to pull on the cord, and that will bring down the lever, and presto, your picture is taken.”“Well, I see that,” said Garry, “but what’s to prevent its taking another picture when someone steps on it again?”“Easy again. Once the camera has been snapped by the trap, its work is done. You see the lever on this camera takes one picture when you pull down, then to get another, you push the lever back up. Of course there is nothing in this crude trap that will push up, so you can take only one picture without resetting the trap,” explained Dick.“That’s well explained; now tell me something else and I will keep quiet for a while,” said Garry. “Why have you tied some extra threads to your main line that leads to the lever?”“That’s an extra precaution. If I had a wide board that I could set in the ground, a weight on any portion of it would cause the entire board to sink a bit, and that would give the necessary pull to release the lever. But we have no board and so I must lay these strips of sapling close together. Suppose that the intruder steps on one spot, he would only cover about nine or ten of these saplings, and if my string was not hitched to those particular saplings, the trap wouldn’t work. The idea of the extra strings is so that on whatever portion of saplings anyone stands, he will be sure to pull down on a string. Savvy?”“Right, as usual, I stand corrected,” murmured Garry in a purposely humble tone.Dick looked at him sharply.“Are you trying to rag me a bit?” he asked.“No, not trying to,” answered Garry with special emphasis on the word “trying.”Dick was about to make a retort, then kept silent, for he knew that Garry was having a bit of fun with him, and in a battle of words with the sharp-witted leader, he knew from experience that he would come off second best.All that remained now to do was to set the saplings. Dick filled in the trench so that the saplings would clear the ground by just about half an inch, all that was necessary to bring down the little lever. One by one the saplings were laid and the threads attached, Dick drawing the string taut while Garry held the lever up so that it would not be accidentally pulled down. Finally the saplings were all laid.“Now we must cover the saplings with some dirt very carefully and smooth it down hard,” said Dick. The dirt was sprinkled on and then bidding Garry guard the lever, Dick patted it down hard on the improvised platform.“That’s good so far,” said Phil. “But won’t the person who steps on that feel the give of it, and become suspicious?”“That’s one chance we will have to take, but I intend to sprinkle a few pine needles on top of this and try to give it the appearance of soft ground. You know how often one steps on a springing, spongy surface in the woods.” As he talked he threw handfuls of pine needles on the spot.“There, guess that’s camouflage for you. I don t think anyone would ever know it had been fooled with,” said Dick, with some pride in his handiwork. And indeed he had good cause to be pleased, for the ground looked not a whit different than the surroundings.“There is just one thing more. That is the liability of the intruder sneaking around the corner of the lean-to and dodging the trap altogether,” said Dick, “and we can soon fix that with a few saplings. We will make a sort of little fence with an opening only wide enough for an entrance. That will serve a double purpose. It will make the intruder step on the trap, and it will offset the appearance of the brush wall at the back by making it appear that we have simply fixed up our lean-to in fancy fashion.” As he spoke, Dick began to make the “fence,” and the others, catching onto the idea, lent a willing hand.When it was completed, the shack had a comfortable air about it that led the boys to decide that when the trap had served its purpose, the other trappings would be left as they were.“Now let’s pull out for town and see Denton and look up Simmons, just to see what he has to say for himself,” suggested Dick.The chums slung their packs over their shoulders, for they seldom went anywhere without them, not knowing at what moment they might be called on to make a hurried move.The work of making the trap had required about two hours, and the walk to town generally took them an hour. This morning it was a trifle longer, for the day was fine, and there was no especial need of haste, hence they sauntered along at an easy pace, while chattering about half a dozen different topics.They reached town about ten in the morning and proceeded to the general store. Denton was sitting on the front porch, his usual place when the duties of the store did not demand his attention.He saw the boys approaching and waved to them as they walked up the street.“Well, what news this morning?” asked Garry.“Nothing much more than usual. Simmons was in this morning and looked around and asked when the next batch of registered letters was expected, and then said he was going to drive to Coldenham, and off he went.”“Why should he ask you when registered letters would come?” asked Garry, who was rather puzzled at what seemed the peculiarity of the question.“How are you supposed to know anything about when certain letters will arrive?”“Lately, Ferguson’s office has been calling me on the telephone to let me know when money was expected, in the hope that I could exercise special care for the safety of the letters. Of course I told Simmons about it, so it was natural that he should ask me about this.”“Are any letters due today or tomorrow?” asked Garry.“Yes, I got notice early this morning that some were expected from Portland in payment of the last loads of pulp sent down the line.”There was nothing else in the way of news, and so the boys, after chatting about other matters for a few moments, took up their way towards Aunt Abbie’s house. On their way they passed the French restaurant where Dick had once been imprisoned by LeBlanc and Green, and were not greatly surprised to see Lafe Green standing in the doorway. He gave the boys a malevolent look as they neared him, and when they passed by whispered sibilantly:“This is your last warning; get out of here and get out quick!”Garry stopped in his tracks.“Listen, Green. Let me give you a little warning. You can’t drive us out of town with threats, and all your little schemes and those of LeBlanc won’t do you a bit of good. And there won’t be any kidnapping either, for we are making no move without letting someone know where we are going and why. The moment that anyone of us disappears for more than six hours, you and all your friends will be tracked down and arrested.“I am writing a complete account of this business for the sheriff, and for the state authorities at Augusta, so that any move you make will bring you speedily before someone that you cannot get away from. Now, is that clear to you?”Green laughed loudly, but there was a false ring in his mirth. The idea of the boys having a constant check kept on their movements was not evidently to his liking, neither was the fact that the state authorities would take up the matter. He knew, of course, that the boys were in the Ranger Service—LeBlanc had told him that—and knew that the Rangers would leave no stone unturned to run down anyone that would harm a member of that service.“You make big talk, young fellow, but I’m telling you that this country is dangerous for you; not from me, understand, but from some people that I don’t control. Better save your skins and get back to the city and not concern yourselves with things that you shouldn’t.”Green turned on his heel and walked into the restaurant, and the boys resumed their way.“What’s all this about a letter, Garry?” asked Dick. “That is the first I’ve heard of it.”“Same here,” said Garry. “It just struck me at the moment, however, that it would be a wise thing to do, and so I threw it at Lafe in the hopes that it might check his future actions slightly. I believe the shot went home at that.”Arrived at Aunt Abbie’s, they found her all wrought up.Her first words exploded like a bombshell.“Ruth went out last night and hasn’t been home since!”CHAPTER VIGARRY’S CHASE“Ruth gone?” ejaculated Garry. “Are you sure she has disappeared, or is there some place she would have gone to visit?”“Why, she would never have gone out for any length of time without letting someone know where she was going. She dressed for a walk a little while after supper last night, and said she might drop in and see her girl friend, Nellie Crombie. When it came almost eleven o’clock her grandfather got worried and went to Nellie’s house, where they told him Ruth had left almost a half an hour before. It wouldn’t take her more than ten minutes to get home, so her grandfather got still more worried and came straight back here. At midnight she hadn’t come, and so he started out looking for her. He went to all her friends, but no one had seen her. Then he called up several people who live around the Crombie’s place to see if they had seen her, but no one had. He’s been up all night and was out this morning looking around. He is nearly frantic and so am I. I don’t know where she could have gone.”Aunt Abbie was all of a tremble as she told the boys of the missing girl.To the boys, here was something that demanded immediate attention. They surmised at once that it was part of the plan of the letter writers to terrorize the family. First there was the burning house, and since this had not succeeded in showing the little family that the conspirators were in deadly earnest, this last had been resorted to.“Where can we find Mr. Everett now?” Garry asked Aunt Abbie.“Goodness only knows; he’s been everywhere, asking all his friends if they have seen the girl. Best thing to do would be to go back to the village and ask if he has been seen. You ought to find him real easy that way. There has been some talk of organizing a search party to go into the woods, but what would Ruth have wanted in the forest alone and at night?”The boys could not answer this question, and were about to turn back to the village, when they saw Mr. Everett approaching the house. He shuffled along as though he were extremely weary. When he saw the boys, his tired face lighted up.“I’m glad you are here, for maybe you can help me; no one else can around here. I suppose Aunt Abbie has told you what has happened?”“Yes, sir, and we’re just on the point of starting out to see what we can do,” said Garry. “Have you any news at all?”“Yes; I found a man that said he saw Ruth going up Clemson street about twenty minutes to eleven.”“Where is Clemson street and where does it lead to?” asked Phil.“Why, it’s on the other side of the village. You boys know where it is; it’s the one you took that night you went to Lafe Green’s farm; it leads right past there and along towards the border.”Suddenly a staggering thought hit Garry. Clemson street leading to Lafe Green’s farm. The secret passage. Ruth’s desire to help the boys play detective. Her eagerness last night. The secret that she would not let the boys in on.All these thoughts flashed through Garry’s mind in rapid succession.“I believe I have a good clue, and we’ll follow it up right away. My advice to you now, sir, is that you hustle off to bed and get some sleep. You’ll need all your strength, and you can depend on us to do everything in our power to help you,” said the Ranger leader.“I guess I will take your advice. I’m tuckered out, and I don’t believe I could go another step without dropping. Now that I know you fellows are here, it relieves my mind considerable. I’ll only take a short nap and then wait for you to come back with news,” said the old man as he turned into the house.Aunt Abbie was about to follow him, when Garry caught her by the hand.“Listen, Aunt Abbie. Don’t wake him up under any circumstances, or we will have a mighty sick man on our hands. Let him sleep as long as he can, and in the meantime we’ll find something to work on. Now you’ll do that, won’t you?”“Bless your heart, of course I will. He hasn’t had a mite of sleep since yesterday morning. Now good luck, boys, and bring our little girl back to us,” said the kindly old lady.Off down the street started Garry, followed by his curious chums.“What’s the big idea?” asked Dick. “Tell us before we explode with curiosity. What is your hunch?”“Yes, out with it,” added Phil.“I’m going to in a minute. I just wanted to get away from the house so that Aunt Abbie or the old gentleman would not hear us and worry. Here’s my hunch. You know how Ruth has said a half a dozen times that she envied us for our adventures, and that a girl never could do anything, and how she would like to help us out in this business?”“Yes, we understand that; go on,” said Phil.“And you know how excited she was yesterday afternoon? Well, I think she went to Lafe Green’s house to see if she could find anything out that would be of help to us. You know she’s daring and not afraid of anything, like so many girls are. It’s ten to one that she went there. You remember she knows about the secret passage because she was there when her grandfather told us about it that night.”“Say, I believe you’re right, Garry. What’s the next move then?” said Dick.“Looks to me as though the next move were to go directly to Green’s house and have a showdown,” said Phil.“Right you are, Phil. On the march now. We’ll keep this under our hat so that there will be no danger of Lafe Green and his gang getting a tip.”Almost running, they reached Clemson Road and headed in the direction of Green’s farm.On the way they discussed the most advisable way to approach the house. Should there be any force of men there, it would be folly to approach the house openly, as it would give warning.As they neared the place, Garry called a halt to allow them to regain their breath, for they were all puffing so fast had Garry set the pace. Also, he wanted to hold a council.“There, we can see the house from here,” he said as they gathered under a big tree. “I thought I remembered the general lay of the land. You see we can go around through the field there and come up back of the barn, and from there to the house is so short a distance that we can make it in a few seconds on the run. Dick, you get in front of the barn after we reach the house, to prevent anyone from making an escape through the secret passage. Phil and I will beard the lion in his den.”“Just a minute, though,” put in Dick. “I am game to do anything you decide, but can we go busting into a man’s house without a warrant or any authority?”“Technically we can’t, but this seems to be a time for action if ever there was one. If we find our guess to be correct, and Ruth is held there, no one will bring up the question of our authority. We are dealing with known criminals, and we can show good cause for our suspicions. At any rate, we’ll think about that later. Like the western sheriffs used to say, it’s a case of shoot first and ask questions afterwards.”“Let’s go,” said Garry enthusiastically.Garry’s enthusiasm was transferred to the others, and off across the fields they started, bending low in the hay to avoid detection as much as possible, although they did not think too sharp a watch was being kept in the day time, except possibly the roadway that led to the house.When they reached the back of the barn, Garry halted them again.“First look to your rifles. We might need them. Now, Dick, give us forty seconds to reach the house, then run around and take your stand where you can watch the barn door. If you need help, fire your rifle twice. Now Phil, shoot for the house.”Garry and Phil started and Dick glued his eyes on his watch.At the house they saw no sign of anyone having heard their approach, and there seemed to be no indication of anyone’s being around. Garry began to think the house was deserted and made up his mind that even if this were the case he was going through it.They came around to the front door, which stood open, and Garry stuck his head through the doorway and called:“Hullo, there in the house.”Both boys kept their rifles in such position that they could be thrown up instantly. For a moment there was no response, then Garry repeated his call. There was a sound of someone shuffling along in his stocking feet, then a man came into the hall.Garry and Phil almost dropped their rifles from surprise, for there stood one of the tramps.“What you want,” he half grunted. From his tousled appearance he had evidently been asleep.“We want to have a look through this house, and while we’re at it we want you,” answered Garry.“Want me?” asked the man, surprised out of his drowsiness.“Yes; you’re wanted for bail jumping down Portland way. The Gordon station and postoffice robbery, you know.”“You policemen?” asked the man, who appeared dazed at the knowledge of the boys concerning him.“No, we’re not policemen, but we’re going to take a look through this house and then take you back to the village,” said Garry firmly.“Where’s your warrant?” demanded the tramp.“Haven’t got one,” returned Garry promptly.“Then you can’t do anything with me,” announced the man, becoming bolder.“Oh, yes we can. We’re officers of the state, and besides, any citizen can apprehend a criminal and turn him over to an officer. Now speak up lively and tell us if there is a girl being held prisoner in this house.”A momentary gleam of fear appeared in the man’s eyes, but he made haste to answer:“’Course not; ain’t no womenkind of any sort around here. This is Mr. Green’s house.”Both Garry and Phil could see the man was lying, and knew that their guess was correct. Either Ruth was in the house, or this tramp knew something about her.“Come on now, come through. You know the girl I mean. Where is she? Phil, keep your rifle on this fellow, and if he makes a move while I go through the house, blow him up,” ordered Garry.“Say, listen. What do I get if I put you fellows wise to all this?” demanded the tramp. “And how do you chaps know anything about me? Not that I’m admittin’ anything you said about me.”“We know you all right. We helped catch you in our cottage down Portland way early this summer,” said Garry.The tramp peered at Garry closely. Then he spat out an oath.“I thought I knew you when I saw you the other day. Guess you’ve got me right. Well, you haven’t told me what I get if I tell you about the girl.”“You’ll get nothing in the way of being let loose, if that’s what you’re driving at,” answered Garry. “And if you don’t tell us what you know you will come in for a few years extra on a charge of abduction. I’ll do this though. You tell us what you know and we’ll put it in on our report and that will get you out of this scrape.”The tramp thought this over for a moment, and then appeared to decide that the jig was up and he might as well save himself at the expense of his pals.“There was a girl came here last night through a certain passage to the house here, and Green and the Frenchman discovered her listening to them talk and caught her before she could get away.”“What Frenchman do you mean?” interposed Garry quickly.“The one they call Jean,” answered the tramp sullenly.So there was another hunch that made good. Green and Jean had hitched forces again. That meant that the halfbreed had come directly to this place after he had made his escape from the lumber-camp with the aid of the motor boat.“Where is she now, in the house here?” demanded Garry eagerly.“No,” said the man. “They was afraid someone was with her or was going to follow her here, so they rushed her out. That is, the Frenchman did. He said he would take her to a hideout he had. I think he said it was on the river; what did he call it? Penicton, or something like that.”“I know. Penocton is the name, Garry. That’s the one we visited that time we found our tourmaline mine,” put in Phil.“Do you know anything more about it than that?” quizzed Garry.“No, that’s all I know.”“Just one thing more,” said Garry hurriedly. “How did you fellows come to be hitched up with this gang?”“Green hired us to do a little job for him.”“What was it?”“None of your business. Say, look here. I’ve told you all you wanted to know, more than I should. Now my mouth’s shut, see? I ain’t a goin’ to tell you nothin’ more. Not even if you beat my head in with your gun,” and the tramp relapsed into sullen silence. He seemed to be sorry now that he had gone so far in his answers.“Phil, there’s one chance that all this may be a string of lies; and to be on the safe side, I’m going through the house. You keep this fellow under cover, and if anyone approaches, fire your rifle once, and back this fellow into the house, and make him lock the door. I’ll be with you, then, in a minute.”Garry went into the house and made a systematic search of the house, starting with the top floor and the attic, peering into all the closets and any spot that would make a likely hiding place. He made no discoveries on the top floor, and descended to the main floor again. Here he found nothing, and was preparing to descend the cellar for a last look, when he saw the latch on the door being raised.He stood stock still, and lifting his rifle, waited in silence.The door opened slowly and noiselessly, and he was just about to order whoever was behind it to come out, as he was covered, when a head came cautiously around the door, and Garry dropped his rifle butt to the floor and began to laugh.Instead of Green or one of his cohorts, as he had expected, the head belonged to no other than Dick!“Say, I’m glad to see you” said Dick with a sigh of relief. “We did a fool thing in not deciding how long I was to wait without hearing from you; and you were so long that I thought you had been found and were tied up in some corner with Green and all his friends standing guard over you. So I came through the passageway to see if I could be of any help. What’s new? Have you found Ruth?”In a few brief sentences Garry informed him of what had transpired in the past few minutes.“Now we’ll get our prize tramp here and hustle him back to town and deliver him over to the constable. Then, while you fellows follow our original plan about the engineer, I’ll set out after Ruth. It’ll have to be luck for me to find her, but I’ll track down the river bank in the hope of finding some trail.”The return to town was made without incident, though the boys kept a sharp watch for fear that some of the tramp’s friends might come along and attempt to free him from his captivity. They led him directly to the little lock-up and turned him over to the constable with instructions to notify the sheriff so he could get in touch with the authorities at Portland.Garry’s last words to the tramp were to bid him to keep silent about his having told them about Ruth and LeBlanc, threatening if he opened his mouth to forget his promise to plead for special immunity for him. The tramp readily agreed to keep his silence.“Now gather round here fellows. I’m going to stock up on provisions, and start for the river. You fellows had better arrange between yourselves to keep an eye on the engineer and Green. Decide who will take the engineer, and the other one watch Lafe. Either one may lead you to a clue.“So that we will have check on my movements, start about eleven o’clock tomorrow morning to call me on the wireless. Keep calling me at intervals for two hours. Set your range for about twenty-five miles. I won’t be further away than that. If you cannot get me, get the sheriff and have Green taken up again and squeezed until he comes through with information about the girl. Of course LeBlanc will be arrested on sight, if he comes back here, but he probably is wherever he has taken Ruth.”“Suppose we don’t hear from you; what about your own safety?” asked Phil.“In that case, get some help and come after me. My plan is to go to that little town we passed through the time we found the tourmaline mine, and then head across the river. You remember it was all wooded land on the other side. I’ll leave several trail signs to show whether I went up or down the river. Then at intervals of a half a mile, I’ll tie a strip of white cloth to a bough on one of the trees along the river bank. If I turn into the woods at any point, I’ll tie the strip there and then leave trail signs. Keep an eye out for a small stone cairn, for I may leave a note. Now I’m off to the store for some groceries.”Giving each of his chums a hearty grip of the hand, Garry headed for Denton’s general store.Denton asked him several questions about why he was purchasing extra provisions, but Garry gave him evasive answers.“By the way,” said Garry, “how come you didn’t think to tell us this morning about Miss Ruth Everett being missing?”“I swan, I forgot all about it. I haven’t been thinking about much of anything lately except that dratted postoffice business. Then when I did think of it, you were out of sight. Have they heard anything about the girl?”“Guess they’re working on something now.” Garry refrained from answering any questions, for there were three or four other men in the store, and he was now proceeding on the idea that every man was a potential enemy until he was proven otherwise.Garry packed his knapsack carefully, and as a last thought bought a couple of yards of white cloth with which to make the trail marks he had promised to leave.He took the trail they had taken the day they set out to discover the mine after they had succeeded in getting the missing portion of the torn map.It was a good twenty mile hike to the town, and Garry put his best foot forward, for he wanted to reach the town before dark. He decided he would put up there for the night in the village hotel, if there was one, rather than stay in the woods.Garry did not think it wise to sleep out in the forest where some misfortune might befall him, at a time when he needed all his strength, and above all, his liberty. Then, too, he wanted a good night’s sleep to be fresh for the coming day, which he fancied would be a hard one.As he walked, he kept a keen lookout for any signs of trail,—a dropped handkerchief, or something of the sort. Garry hoped that Ruth would find some way of dropping something that might serve as a clue, for she was a bright girl, and knew that any little help would aid those whom she knew would seek to trail her as soon as her absence was discovered.His pains were unrewarded, however, as he walked mile after mile. Garry was straining every nerve to make time, and took a pace that was much faster than the boys generally used when on plain patrol duty. Their summer in the woods had made good walkers of all of them, and they were able to make decent distances without more than ordinary fatigue.It had been noon time when Garry left Hobart, and allowing himself until seven o’clock to get to the village of Chester, it would mean that he must make a trifle less than four miles every hour, counting out a few minutes for a breathing spell after every fifty or fifty-five minutes of walking.His reckoning was not far wrong, for it was only about a quarter after seven when he pulled into Chester. He asked a pedestrian if there was any sort of a hotel or boarding house in the village, and was directed to one a short ways down the street. Garry was ravenously hungry, so he had his supper at the hotel, getting in just before the dining room closed. It was a typical country hotel, and the fare was good. After he had eaten, he sought out the owner and engaged him in conversation.Garry asked what the other side of the river was like and if the woodland extended for many miles in both directions.“On the upper side is the State Forest reserve, well patrolled by Rangers, while to the south is wild land that has not been cut for years,” said the hotel man.“There was some talk of cutting there last winter, and then they decided to hold up till a track could be laid and the logs hauled to the river on flat cars to save time. In that way they could begin cutting at the far side and work toward the river. A party of surveyors laid out the proposed track, and they even laid about a half a mile of track. Then the owner died—name was Hasbrouck, I think—and his estate got tied up in the courts, and the work on the road was stopped. Now there’s no one around there. Once in a great while a camping party goes in there, but it isn’t popular except during the deer season, because of its wild growth, lots of ravines and rocky places.”This long explanation was given Garry by the hotel owner, and Garry mentally decided that if LeBlanc had come there—and this was likely if the tramp’s words were true—this would be the section he would go to. The halfbreed would probably keep away from the Forest Reserve, with the chance of running across a Ranger.Asking if the general store was open, and receiving an affirmative reply, Garry got directions for reaching it and set out. He knew that in all New England villages, the general store is the hangout for most of the men after nightfall, and here was the best place to get any likely gossip.Garry found a half dozen men gathered inside, watching a checker game between two old men who were evidently the crack players of the village.He made two or three minor purchases, mostly to get into conversation with the storekeeper.The owner himself was there, and after he had sized up Garry’s attire, asked in true Yankee fashion:“Come from the city?”“Some little time ago,” answered Garry, “if you can call living only a few miles from Portland being from the city.”“Figure on going campin’ around here?”“No, just hiking through for awhile.”“Fellow in here this morning and bought a lot of stuff, enough to last a while, so thought that you might be following him up, since he was alone, and camping alone ain’t much fun.”Garry was not particularly interested in campers, but he wanted to ask some questions later, and knowing the Yankee way, which was to talk of other things and get acquainted by asking questions first, asked carelessly if the storekeeper knew the other man, or heard where he was going.“No, never saw him before, and he warn’t the kind to give out much information about himself. After I talk with a man a few minutes, I generally get to the point where I can swap questions with him; but this chap looked as though he didn’t want a friend in the world, and maybe didn’t have one.”“Grouchy looking customer, eh?” said Garry with a laugh.“Yes, siree Bob, not only grouchy looking, but hard looking. Now that I think of him, I see it was foolish to ask if you were with him, for he was a different breed of cats from you. Funny looking bird.”“What did he look like,” asked Garry, mainly to keep conversation up for a few minutes longer.“Big black-haired chap with a black moustache and dark skin, high cheek bones, looked like a halfbreed to me. Talked pretty good English, but with a little accent like they do up by the border.”Garry’s heart beat high with excitement, for the storekeeper had described Jean LeBlanc to a “T.”CHAPTER VIIWHAT THE ENGINE CAB REVEALEDWhen Garry left them, Phil and Dick debated as to what course they would pursue. Phil advanced the suggestion that one should make shift to get on the train that went to Coldenham and see what, if anything, transpired along the way.“First I move we go to see Denton and find out if there will be any valuable mail sent this afternoon,” said Phil.This was met with assent by Dick, and they departed for the general store.“Your friend was here only a little while ago,” Denton told them. “Bought a lot of stuff and then hiked off. Goin’ to follow him?”“No; he’s gone off on a little private trip,” said Phil. He gave no more information, since he saw plainly that Garry had told the postmaster very little about what he intended to do.When they asked about the mail, Denton said:“Yes, there’s quite a batch of it for the Ferguson outfit came in on the noon train, and there are several letters with cash in them from around this section. He owns a lot of property round here, and this is about time for the rents to be sent to him. Getting near the first of the month, and he’s a hard landlord, especially to the tenant farmers. Raises hob with them if they’re a day behind on the rent, and to be on the safe side, most of them send it before the first.”Dick glanced at Phil, as though to say that this was the proper day to start investigating.Phil asked Denton if he would mind his looking at the letters.“’Tisn’t a regular thing to do, but guess it will be all right.”“I don’t mean that I want to inspect the letters. I only want to see the way they are carried. I wouldn’t ask to touch United States mail without proper authority,” explained Phil.“Oh, that’s all right,” and Denton led the way to the office, where he opened the safe and showed them a heavy leather sack.“I lock it here and keep the key, and the postmaster at Coldenham has a key to open it with. Often times there’s registered mail only for the Ferguson mill, and that’s the case today,” said the postmaster, as he locked the safe.“How is that taken to the train?” questioned Dick.“I generally take it myself, or else send Bill, my assistant in the store, with it. We give it to the engineer, Gardener his name is, and he gives us a receipt. We have regular blanks for it. Then it’s met by the postoffice man at the other end.”“What does the crew of that train consist of,” was Dick’s next question.At this query Denton began to laugh.“Well, now let’s see. There’s the engineer and the fireman and the conductor and the brakeman and the railway mail clerk. And the name of all of him is Gardner.”“You mean it’s a one-man train?” asked Dick.“Exactly. Don’t need any more than that. There isn’t any stop between here and Coldenham, and the only provision for passengers is about half a coach; the rest of the car is used for baggage, whenever there is any. Then the rest of the train is made up of freight cars that are used for pulp. The station agent here takes the tickets as the people get on the train, and the engineer only has to run the train. He fires himself most of the time. In bad weather he has a helper. It’s only a one-way track and few crossings, so he’s really all that’s needed. Old Ferguson is a tight Scotchman and won’t pay out any more than he can help in spite of the fact he’s the wealthiest man around here.”Having gotten their desired information, they left the store and held a conclave.“See how this strikes you, Dick. I’ll find some way to get on that freight train without being observed, and after we get started I’ll get near the engine and watch if the engineer throws any letters out to anyone, or makes a stop to let some confederate on.“In the meantime you keep watch on Lafe Green, and perhaps you could go to the lean-to and see if your camera trap worked. I suggest that I go on the train, because it would be easier for me to board it while it was going, as I may possibly have to do, and since I am a little lighter than you, no offense, Dick, I could manage better on a moving train.”“That gives you all the fun,” half grumbled Dick, “But I see your point, and this is a case of getting results and not having adventure. Besides, I want to see if that trap worked, and if we can find out the perpetrator of the rattle snake trick.”This being settled, the boys separated. Dick thought for a moment of going straight to the French restaurant and getting something to eat, and sizing up the inmates, also to see who Lafe might be talking with.However, he discarded this thought as being foolhardy, and wisely decided there was no need of putting his mouth in the lion’s jaws needlessly. He remembered the time he was captured by this outfit before, and had no desire for a second experience.Furthermore, his appearance there would immediately put anyone he wanted to watch on guard, and he could accomplish nothing. It was well past noon, and Dick, as usual, remembering his inner man, decided to go to Aunt Abbie’s and prevail on her to give him something to eat, and at the same time see how Mr. Everett was. There was always the slim chance that Ruth might have turned up, but this was only a chance in a thousand.For his part, Phil went towards the station to reconnoitre the ground and see what would be his chances of boarding the train that went to Coldenham.He looked carefully around the station platform to see if there was anyone he knew, or anyone who would be apt to be interested in his movements, but outside of one or two loafers, the platform and station were devoid of people. The station agent was in his little office busily ticking away at the telegraph key, sending a message.After his hasty survey, Phil darted on into the yards. Although Hobart was a very small town, the yards there were quite sizable, since it was a sort of a transfer point for freight and passengers bound into Canada, and then there was a long siding that was used for the pulp cars that came from Ferguson’s mills at Coldenham.Along one side of the siding was the long storehouse where the bulky packages of pulp were stored until a sufficient quantity had accumulated to make it worth while to have a long string of freight cars come from Bangor or below to carry it to the paper mills.Phil noted that the Coldenham train was already on this siding, but the engineer was nowhere to be seen. He made his way to the storehouse landing and walked along the string of cars wondering in just what manner he could get on the train without being observed. He did not, of course, care to buy a ticket and ride as a regular passenger, for that would tip his hand to any of the enemy that might be around.There was the chance of ducking into one of the freight cars, and hiding there until the train started, and then in some manner making his way to the roof of the car, and in this way proceed along the top until he could come within sight of the cab.The slight element of danger in this was that some station employe or the engineer himself, for that matter, might make a tour of the cars just for the purpose of preventing anyone from getting a free ride.After conning over the situation, Phil discarded the idea of boarding the train while it was in the yard.There was still a long wait until the train would start, so Phil decided to utilize it by strolling up the track for a short distance to see if there was any spot where he could wait and, unobserved, get on the moving train. He walked nearly a mile, but saw that there was no spot where he could do this. In some places, a house or two bordered the tracks, and women could be seen working in little gardens, or sewing while sitting in front of the houses.At others, where there was no danger of being seen, the ditching at the side of the road provided no place where he could locate himself without being observed by the engineer.He glanced at his watch and saw that he still had plenty of time for further investigation, so he walked on.His added walk was rewarded, for he came to a spot where there was a fairly deep cut between two natural miniature cliffs. Spanning the cliffs was an open bridge; that is, it was open at the top, but the sides came up for a matter of three feet or so.This was just what he wanted. He could wait until he heard the approach of the train and then hide behind one of the sides of the bridge. As soon as the engine had passed under, he would only have to crawl over the side, and drop to the top of one of the cars as it passed under the bridge. Looking up, Phil estimated that there was only about two feet clearance between the top of a car and the bottom of the bridge.This would make it a safe proposition to drop to the train, even though it was moving. Had it been anything but the slow Coldenham train, he knew such a feat would be impossible, for a swiftly moving express would have thrown him off almost as soon as he touched the top.
“If this thing was done with the help of any of the postoffice men, it ought not to be a hard matter to trace it down,” suggested Garry. “How about the man who delivers the mail with the flivver to Coldenham when the pulp mill owner’s private road isn’t running?”
“He’s all right, cousin o’ mine; bank on his being honest,” returned Dud.
He was silent a minute and then burst out:
“By ginger, it’s funny I didn’t think o’ that before. Find out one thing, and you’ll have a good start. Find out if the robberies happen to the mail that is delivered by my cousin or on the train that runs between Hobart and Coldenham, and there’s your start.”
“Why, how will that help us?” inquired Garry.
“Why, dad blame it, the engineer o’ that train is a brother-in-law of Lafe Green!”
This surprising piece of news threw all into a silence for a moment.
“You see how simple things are now?” queried Dud. “If you can find out that letters are all right when they leave the Hobart postoffice, and are all wrong when they get delivered to Coldenham, then you have half the work done, and you can be pretty certain that Lafe is back of it.”
“That’s step number one, then,” said Garry. “Let’s hustle back to town and have a little chat with Denton. Which way are you bound, Dud?”
“I’m off for about two or three days in the woods. Need some money and so can’t afford to loaf; besides, these be great days for wandering through the forest, and can’t afford to miss one of ’em. We’re due for good weather for a week or two, then we’re due for a spell o’ rainy days. All signs pint that way. So good luck to you. I’ll look ye up when I get back, either here or in town. Ought to catch you one place or t’other.”
Dud shouldered his pack, and loped off into the woods with a wave of his hand at the chums, and soon disappeared from view.
The boys hastened to straighten out the camp after their dinner and then prepared to go to town.
“What say we do same as we did last time—cache the foodstuff in one of the trees near here; that will prevent any marauder from making off with it, and leaving us hungry some night?” asked Dick.
“Good enough,” said Garry. “We can use the same tree, since it is already marked so we can readily recognize it.”
This was done and the trio proceeded townwards. Arriving at the postoffice they found Denton sitting on the wide porch that stretched for the full length of the store, gossiping with several old men of the village.
He hailed the boys as he saw them approach, and when they climbed up onto the porch invited them to come inside.
He led the way back to his little cubbyhole office, and when they were seated, asked what luck they had had.
Garry replied that little had been done and little could be until they had asked him some questions.
“First thing,” said the leader of the Rangers, “has Simmons, the inspector, been here yet?”
“Yes, drat him, only left a little while ago,” was the sour reply.
“Why, what’s the matter?” asked Garry in surprise, at the tone of Denton’s voice.
“Seems to think I know all about this matter, and says he thinks half the trouble is right here. Asked a lot of fool questions about the letters sent to the Everetts and darn few about the stolen mail. Seemed to be most interested in the contents of the safe. Made me check over all the stamps and the cash of the postoffice, and wanted to know how much money was generally kept there, and if it was cared for safely, and all that sort of stuff. Seems kind of funny he’d be worried more about a couple or three hundred dollars of postoffice money than about Ferguson’s missing checks, which now total up nearly three thousand dollars. I think he has an idea I’ve stolen the dratted checks myself.”
The boys did not pay too serious attention to Denton’s tirade against the inspector, for they thought that his brusque manner, a little of which had been displayed to them, had riled the postmaster.
Dick said so in as many words, and laughed a little at Denton’s ruffled feelings. “What did he say about us?” asked Dick.
“Well, young feller, you think I’m put out at the way Simmons talked to me, here’s a little for yourself. He told me not to have anything to do with that parcel o’ dime novel reading boys that had come to town to tell the postoffice how to run its business. So there’s one for you!”
This time it was Dick’s turn to be ruffled, and in fact so were his chums.
“It’s plain to be seen that there can be little cooperation between us and the inspector,” said Garry after everyone had cooled down a trifle. “I think we had better proceed in our own way, being ready of course to do anything that Simmons asks us to do. Now, if you feel that you can give us any private information, Mr. Denton, we’d be glad to have it. We have one clue now that may be worth following. Can you tell us when most of the letters that contain the checks are delivered and how?”
“Surely can,” answered Denton. “They’re registered, and generally come in on the noon train that goes across the border. That has most of the mail from the big cities. Most of the mail that comes on the local trains is only from Bangor and smaller towns along the way. That means that it’s delivered on Ferguson’s one-horse train. We call it the creeper around here, it’s so wheezy and slow. It comes in mornings dragging a load of pulp which is generally left in the storehouse that Ferguson has here until he gets a sizable amount, then a freight train takes it from here to the paper mills down the line. Late afternoon it makes a return trip.”
“I always aim to put the registered mail and most of the Ferguson mail on that train, for the carrier doesn’t start until later than the train.”
Garry looked significantly at his pals, and warned them with a look to let him do all the talking.
“What makes you ask about that?” asked Denton.
“Why, we only have a hunch that it would be a good thing to check the deliveries along the route and see if there is any way of ascertaining where the letters might be opened,” answered Garry, who decided that they had better keep their ideas to themselves for a while, until they found there was basis for suspicion, or else found they were on a wild goose chase. If the latter were the case, they did not want everyone to laugh at them for their foolish hunch.
The answer seemed to satisfy Denton, and he said:
“As for giving you boys any help, you can count on me every minute. I know what you chaps have done, and I kinder like you, and I don’t like that man Simmons at all. In fact if he don’t show some signs of life and do something after he’s been here for a reasonable time, I am going to write the department and ask that another inspector be sent that won’t bother about the stamps, which have a regular inspection every so often, and will put his time in on the right matter.”
There was nothing further that the boys could ask then, so they went out into the store.
“Better buy something so that we will seem to have a purpose in coming to the store other than our real one,” whispered Phil to Garry.
Garry nodded his head, and for the benefit of those who were sitting out on the porch and who he knew were probably inveterate gossipers, they made a few minor purchases, leaving them to be called for on their way back to the lean-to.
Then they went to Aunt Abbie’s to see their friends, and found that Mr. Everett was out but that Ruth was at home. She greeted them with sparkling eyes, and her whole manner indicated the she had some very important secret or idea in her keeping. The boys could not help but notice this, and pressed her to tell them what she was so excited about.
The girl, however, steadfastly refused to divulge her thoughts, and seeing that she had made them curious to a great degree, teased them considerably about what she called “womanish curiosity.”
It was well along in the afternoon by now, and the boys, refusing Aunt Abbie’s pressing invitation to stay for supper, withdrew to make their way back to their camp. They wanted to talk over the new angle in the case, which might mean a trip to Coldenham first, rather than a search of Lafe Green’s house. That could probably come later.
They arrived at camp just before dusk and set about the routine of preparing the evening meal. As the boys worked, Dick remarked that he did not think he had enough boughs for a bed, as he was heavier than the others and would sink in them much more easily.
The chums laughed at this, and Dick retorted:
“Go on, just because you skinny fellows can sleep on two branches and a stone is no reason I should be uncomfortable. Go on, start the supper while I get some more boughs.”
“How about you helping out a little on the supper?” queried Phil.
“I’ll tell you what I’ll do. You get the supper and let me get some more stuffing for under my blanket, and I’ll wash the dishes.”
This announcement was like a thunderbolt, for Dick hated dish washing above anything else. He would cut wood or carry water or cook without a murmur, but dish washing drew one constant grumble from him.
“Gosh, Garry, let him get all the boughs he wants. When Dick offers voluntarily to wash the dishes, it’s a day to celebrate. By the way, Dick, you might bring a few extra ones for me while you’re at it.”
“Dick must be sick or something,” laughed Garry, as he watched the fat boy depart.
In a short time Dick came struggling back under a load of boughs, and as supper was not yet ready, decided to re-arrange his bunk while waiting. He went into the lean-to and kicked away the boughs he had already placed.
Then his chums were startled out of a year’s growth by hearing him utter a piercing scream.
With the scream still ringing in their ears, Garry and Phil dashed into the lean-to to discover Dick staring spellbound at the ground.
“Look,” he gasped.
The boys cast their eyes on the ground, and beheld a big rattlesnake, stone dead.
“Did you kill it, Dick?” was Garry’s first question.
“No, it was laying there under the boughs that made my sleeping place. Gosh, it scared me, I can tell you. I don’t know what made me scream so. I guess it was just the thought that it might have been alive, and that I would have laid down there tonight. I saw that it was dead, of course, the minute I looked at it, but I couldn’t help letting out that yelp. Ugh, it makes me creep now to think of it. Wonder how it chose that place to die?”
“Must have crawled in and then gave up the ghost,” said Phil.
In the meantime Garry had been examining the reptile’s body.
“That snake was killed by a human being,” he announced. “See, its head is crushed, and it has been hit several times with a club. Don’t see how it could have crawled very far after being mashed up that way.”
“What do you mean?” was the startled question of Dick.
“Looks suspiciously like an ill-timed practical joke to me,” answered Garry. “Of course it is foolish to think we are the only ones that ever come near here, and some passerby or camper might have killed it and seeing that this place was occupied, hidden it there to do just what it did—scare one of us half to death. Any snake is bad enough, but a rattler, even a dead one, is enough to shake anyone’s nerve for a minute.”
“Well, let’s throw the thing away and forget about it,” said Phil.
“I think I remember Dud say once that among his many occupations and ways of making a living in the woods, was by skinning a snake whenever he happened to kill one, and selling the skin. There are some people who want such things for curios, but blessed if I would want one,” said Dick. “Chuck it outside and next time we see him we can tell him he can have it.”
“Wonder if Dud would have done that for a joke,” asked Phil.
“I doubt that,” said Garry. “Dudley is too sensible a person to play a fool trick like that, knowing how it would startle anyone. No, whoever did that was half foolish. Gosh, there’s the coffee boiling over,” and Garry dashed to the campfire. They forbore talking about the snake during supper, and were about to forget it, when Garry looked at his chums with a gleam of understanding.
“Listen, you two. I may be wrong, but am more likely right. I just happened to remember something that gives me the creeps. If I’m right, it is the most dastardly attempt to kill a person that I ever heard of.”
“Gosh, don’t give a lecture; tell us what you mean,” broke in Dick.
“It’s just this. That dead rattler was put there with a distinct purpose by some one who wants us out of the way!”
“You don’t think anyone is foolish enough to believe that a dead reptile would drive us away do you? Of course we would be startled, but it wouldn’t make us run out of the country,” scoffed Phil.
“No, you don’t get the point at all,” said Garry, his face paling at the thought. “Haven’t you ever heard that the mate of a dead snake will always find the body and wait there, sometimes for days? It must be some instinct that makes it think the killer of its mate will come that way, and enable him to get revenge.”
The truth of this sank in with such appalling suddenness that the boys were speechless for a moment.
When at last Dick found his voice, he said in a trembling tone that he tried to conceal but could not:
“Why, that means that I might have been bitten as I slept tonight; and not only that, but all three of us might have met the same fate. Who do you suppose was at the bottom of that attempt on our lives?”
“Well,” remarked Garry grimly, “I can think of only one person who would have been fiendish enough to do that, let alone think of it. It’s an old Indian trick to get rid of an enemy without leaving a trace. Boys, just as sure as we’re sitting here, Jean LeBlanc is back on our trail, and that snake was put there by none other than our halfbreed enemy!”
“That means step carefully every minute then, doesn’t it?” asked Phil.
“You bet it does,” responded Garry. “From now on we go back to our old system of night watches. Two hours and a half of duty for each of us every night while we are in the woods, and eyes in the back of our heads all the time.”
“Do you suppose Lafe Green could have done that?” queried Phil. “You know he gave a pretty significant warning to you last night, Garry.”
“No, I don’t believe he would have thought of that, and besides he was around town all day, as you will remember Denton told us when we asked him. It means that LeBlanc has come back and they have joined forces.”
The chums carefully searched every nook and corner of the lean-to, and shook out the boughs that made their bunks, for they did not know what other infernal contrivance their enemies might have laying in wait for them.
It was also agreed to keep the campfire going all through the night, the boy being on sentry duty being detailed to keep it supplied with fuel. To this end, all hands turned out for a few minutes and gathered firewood. A sharp watch was kept for the mate of the rattler, and before turning in, it was carried several feet away from the camp, and thrown at the foot of a tree.
“You know I have an idea that whoever did that, or rather say LeBlanc, since we are morally certain it was his work, will come back here tomorrow to see if his ruse worked. If he finds us gone, he will be likely to look under the boughs to see if the reptile is still there. Now we are not certain that it is LeBlanc or Green, it may be someone else. In that case we would want to know what he looked like. So here is my idea. Just before we leave in the morning, I am going to rig up a camera trap,” said Dick.
“A what?” asked Phil.
“Camera trap; haven’t you ever heard of one? They’re often used in the woods by people who want to get good pictures of wild animal life. You just fix a place for the camera and focus it on a spot, then set a trap that will pull down the lever when it is stepped on or moved. Simple as A B C. I’ve never done it before, but I know how to construct one. We’ll do it first thing in the morning.”
By this time it had become quite dark, and the boys turned in, except for Phil, who drew the first tour of sentry duty. Warning him to keep his eyes and ears open every minute, Garry and Dick rolled into their blankets.
Phil was as restless as a cat on a hot plate. Every snapping twig or soughing of the breeze through the trees made him jump. He made constant patrols around the lean-to, snapping on his pocket electric light as soon as he got out of the range of the light afforded by the campfire.
Nothing, however, developed during his watch, and it was with a bit of relief that the end of the two and a half hour period came. He awakened Garry, who was to take the second watch, and soon was curled up in his blanket and fast asleep.
Garry felt much the same as Phil had, although he took things easier, for he was not of the sensitively nervous type as was Phil.
Nevertheless, he too was glad to call Dick. It was not that the boys were in any way cowards, for they were not. Had it been a human being whom they expected, they would have thought nothing of it; rather they would have considered it a welcome bit of excitement. But this was an entirely different matter—a creeping enemy that would come on them unawares, and which was more dangerous than human being or animal could have been.
Dick yawned and grumbled when Garry shook him, then he rubbed the sleep out of his eyes, and looked to see that his rifle was in good working order.
“Anything stirring?” he asked, as Garry handed over the electric torchlight to him.
“Nothing breezing yet; keep your eyes peeled,” whispered Garry.
Dick took a round of the lean-to, then running true to form, rummaged around till he found a package of cookies he had bought the previous day, and munched away at them as he watched. He kept his eyes glued to the spot where the dead reptile had been thrown, flashing his light there at momentary intervals.
Then another thought struck him. He now wondered whether the snake would go directly to the body, or whether it would come first to where its mate had originally been. This made Dick jump to his feet, for he had been sitting with his back to the lean-to where his chums were asleep, where he could watch everything for several feet around in the gleam of the campfire. He patrolled the camp, and then came and threw fresh wood on the fire. As the dry branches caught and burst into a bright flame, he cast one look at the spot where the dead snake had been put, then let out a yell, and throwing his rifle to his shoulder, fired after a hasty but accurate aim. He emptied the magazine before he stopped firing.
The shots brought his companions tumbling out with their rifles.
“What is it Dick?” shouted Garry.
“Gosh, it’s a wonder I had presence of mind enough to shoot,” shivered Dick. “I looked at the place once and saw nothing, then made a patrol of the camp and threw on some more wood. It couldn’t have been quite five minutes when I looked at the spot once more, and there, coiled up was a real live snake. Let’s go over and see if it’s dead.”
“Careful now; throw on some more wood and get your flashlights out,” ordered Garry. “Dick, you take the three of them, they’ll give a fine light. Phil, you and I will take our rifles, and we’ll edge over there very slowly. Be ready to shoot on the instant.”
“Wait a minute,” said Phil. “Bullets won’t always kill a snake. Get a pole and be ready to break its spinal cord with a good blow. One can keep his rifle ready. A rattler can’t strike without coiling, and if it is alive it’s probably threshing around from the bullets. Here, grab this heavy sapling that forms a support for this side of the lean-to.”
It was only an instant to tear away the pole, and then with Dick holding the flashlights they advanced cautiously. When they reached the spot they heard no warning rattle. The rattle snake never strikes without first whirring the button-like appendages on the tail. They looked and saw that Dick’s aim had been deadly. Dick’s magazine rifle contained fifteen bullets, and he had emptied the whole of them at the snake. One had taken deadly effect, smashing the reptile’s head, and one or more had severed the spinal column.
“Ugh, that’s over with, unless they bring some of their cousins and aunts,” said Dick with a little shudder.
Dick’s remark brought a relief to the tension, and the others laughed heartily.
“No, it’s all over now,” said Garry. “We’ll heave these things far into the woods and forget about it. Mark where we put them and Dud can have the skins. Now let’s get back to bed. Just to be safe, however, Dick you finish the night watch.”
Quiet then reigned in the camp, and Dick waited contentedly until dawn, when he started the coffee and then awakened his companions.
Immediately after breakfast, Dick set about making his camera trap.
“First thing we must do,” he announced, “is to make this lean-to so that there is only one entrance. That’s because I can focus the camera to cover only so much ground. Best way to do is to lay two or three more saplings crosswise between the two brush shacks, and weave some branches on them.”
All three set to work and made the lean-to inaccessible on one side. This was done by laying four saplings across the opening and fastening them to the uprights that held the lean-tos. On these were hung quantities of branches, which were then twisted in and out of each other much as one would weave a basket. This is the usual way to make a brush house in the woods, and so constructed, they are easy to make and all right for good weather. Of course a heavy rain will soon penetrate, and so they are not generally used for permanent camps. Still, when they are properly prepared, and thickly woven, these houses will keep out an ordinary summer shower.
“There, how’s that for a job?” asked Garry.
“Pretty good, except for one thing. We’ll need some more branches so as to make that wall extra thick, because it is in that that I am going to mask the camera,” answered Dick, who was superintending the job since it was his idea.
This was soon done, and then they stepped back and surveyed their handiwork.
“Now what’s the next step?” queried Phil.
“Next thing to do is to dig a shallow trench two feet square and six to eight inches deep. Only way I see to do that without a shovel is to use our hatchets as pickaxes, and then scrape away the dirt with our hands.”
“What’s the idea of the trench?” asked Garry.
“You ought to be able to see that without asking questions. That’s what I’ll use to lay some sort of a platform on that will cause the lever of the camera to snap. Thing that stumps me just now is how to make that platform. Before we cross that bridge, however, let’s get that trench fixed. On second thought, it need be only about three inches deep. I am beginning to see light.”
The work of making the trench was simple, and when it had been completed, Dick ordered them to get about a dozen thin saplings.
“Strikes me the fat boy is pretty good at bossing, isn’t he, Garry?” said Phil with a laugh.
“Go on now, get those saplings. You see before you a mighty inventor who cannot be bothered with menial tasks,” said Dick in a lofty tone.
“Don’t know whether to trip him up and sit on him, or just ignore him,” said Garry to Phil.
Still chaffing good naturedly, the two set out for the saplings, while Dick busied himself with setting his camera in the brush, masking it so that only the lens appeared. Having done this, he stepped away a few feet and looked to see if it was observable. He decided that no one could see it without looking for it especially.
Garry and Phil came back and stood for a moment, looking straight at the brush screen that had been erected.
“Why didn’t you improve the shining moments and put your camera in place?” asked Garry as he saw the closed case lying on the ground.
“Fine!” exclaimed Dick delightedly. “It’s there already, and if you boys who know about it couldn’t see it, then certainly no one else will. Now for the trap.”
The making of the trap was a delicate process. First he took two sticks and laid them crossways at each end of the trench. Then he anchored these securely at each end, putting dirt on them and stamping it down with his heavy shoe packs so that it would not stir in the slightest degree.
Next he delved into his knapsack and brought out some strong but thin linen cord they had bought some time previously and which had served them well at various times, since it was light enough to do fairly delicate work with, yet strong enough to bear some strain. He ran a length of this from the lever on the camera to a sapling which was laid across the two supports that he had built. With this as a guide, he attached a dozen threads a foot or two from where the nearest sapling began.
The next thing was to run the main string down and under one of the sapling supports on the brush screen where the camera was concealed. He smoothed away the bark from the wood so that the string would slip easily, and then ran it back up to the ridge of the lean-to. From there it was brought across and down to the ground, where the trap was to be laid.
“You see the idea, now, don’t you?” Dick asked.
“Well, we have vague glimmerings, and that is all,” answered Garry, speaking for himself and Phil.
“The thing is simple enough. This cord has been brought around so that it is attached to the lever and to this trap. When someone steps on the trap, it will sink just enough to pull on the cord, and that will bring down the lever, and presto, your picture is taken.”
“Well, I see that,” said Garry, “but what’s to prevent its taking another picture when someone steps on it again?”
“Easy again. Once the camera has been snapped by the trap, its work is done. You see the lever on this camera takes one picture when you pull down, then to get another, you push the lever back up. Of course there is nothing in this crude trap that will push up, so you can take only one picture without resetting the trap,” explained Dick.
“That’s well explained; now tell me something else and I will keep quiet for a while,” said Garry. “Why have you tied some extra threads to your main line that leads to the lever?”
“That’s an extra precaution. If I had a wide board that I could set in the ground, a weight on any portion of it would cause the entire board to sink a bit, and that would give the necessary pull to release the lever. But we have no board and so I must lay these strips of sapling close together. Suppose that the intruder steps on one spot, he would only cover about nine or ten of these saplings, and if my string was not hitched to those particular saplings, the trap wouldn’t work. The idea of the extra strings is so that on whatever portion of saplings anyone stands, he will be sure to pull down on a string. Savvy?”
“Right, as usual, I stand corrected,” murmured Garry in a purposely humble tone.
Dick looked at him sharply.
“Are you trying to rag me a bit?” he asked.
“No, not trying to,” answered Garry with special emphasis on the word “trying.”
Dick was about to make a retort, then kept silent, for he knew that Garry was having a bit of fun with him, and in a battle of words with the sharp-witted leader, he knew from experience that he would come off second best.
All that remained now to do was to set the saplings. Dick filled in the trench so that the saplings would clear the ground by just about half an inch, all that was necessary to bring down the little lever. One by one the saplings were laid and the threads attached, Dick drawing the string taut while Garry held the lever up so that it would not be accidentally pulled down. Finally the saplings were all laid.
“Now we must cover the saplings with some dirt very carefully and smooth it down hard,” said Dick. The dirt was sprinkled on and then bidding Garry guard the lever, Dick patted it down hard on the improvised platform.
“That’s good so far,” said Phil. “But won’t the person who steps on that feel the give of it, and become suspicious?”
“That’s one chance we will have to take, but I intend to sprinkle a few pine needles on top of this and try to give it the appearance of soft ground. You know how often one steps on a springing, spongy surface in the woods.” As he talked he threw handfuls of pine needles on the spot.
“There, guess that’s camouflage for you. I don t think anyone would ever know it had been fooled with,” said Dick, with some pride in his handiwork. And indeed he had good cause to be pleased, for the ground looked not a whit different than the surroundings.
“There is just one thing more. That is the liability of the intruder sneaking around the corner of the lean-to and dodging the trap altogether,” said Dick, “and we can soon fix that with a few saplings. We will make a sort of little fence with an opening only wide enough for an entrance. That will serve a double purpose. It will make the intruder step on the trap, and it will offset the appearance of the brush wall at the back by making it appear that we have simply fixed up our lean-to in fancy fashion.” As he spoke, Dick began to make the “fence,” and the others, catching onto the idea, lent a willing hand.
When it was completed, the shack had a comfortable air about it that led the boys to decide that when the trap had served its purpose, the other trappings would be left as they were.
“Now let’s pull out for town and see Denton and look up Simmons, just to see what he has to say for himself,” suggested Dick.
The chums slung their packs over their shoulders, for they seldom went anywhere without them, not knowing at what moment they might be called on to make a hurried move.
The work of making the trap had required about two hours, and the walk to town generally took them an hour. This morning it was a trifle longer, for the day was fine, and there was no especial need of haste, hence they sauntered along at an easy pace, while chattering about half a dozen different topics.
They reached town about ten in the morning and proceeded to the general store. Denton was sitting on the front porch, his usual place when the duties of the store did not demand his attention.
He saw the boys approaching and waved to them as they walked up the street.
“Well, what news this morning?” asked Garry.
“Nothing much more than usual. Simmons was in this morning and looked around and asked when the next batch of registered letters was expected, and then said he was going to drive to Coldenham, and off he went.”
“Why should he ask you when registered letters would come?” asked Garry, who was rather puzzled at what seemed the peculiarity of the question.
“How are you supposed to know anything about when certain letters will arrive?”
“Lately, Ferguson’s office has been calling me on the telephone to let me know when money was expected, in the hope that I could exercise special care for the safety of the letters. Of course I told Simmons about it, so it was natural that he should ask me about this.”
“Are any letters due today or tomorrow?” asked Garry.
“Yes, I got notice early this morning that some were expected from Portland in payment of the last loads of pulp sent down the line.”
There was nothing else in the way of news, and so the boys, after chatting about other matters for a few moments, took up their way towards Aunt Abbie’s house. On their way they passed the French restaurant where Dick had once been imprisoned by LeBlanc and Green, and were not greatly surprised to see Lafe Green standing in the doorway. He gave the boys a malevolent look as they neared him, and when they passed by whispered sibilantly:
“This is your last warning; get out of here and get out quick!”
Garry stopped in his tracks.
“Listen, Green. Let me give you a little warning. You can’t drive us out of town with threats, and all your little schemes and those of LeBlanc won’t do you a bit of good. And there won’t be any kidnapping either, for we are making no move without letting someone know where we are going and why. The moment that anyone of us disappears for more than six hours, you and all your friends will be tracked down and arrested.
“I am writing a complete account of this business for the sheriff, and for the state authorities at Augusta, so that any move you make will bring you speedily before someone that you cannot get away from. Now, is that clear to you?”
Green laughed loudly, but there was a false ring in his mirth. The idea of the boys having a constant check kept on their movements was not evidently to his liking, neither was the fact that the state authorities would take up the matter. He knew, of course, that the boys were in the Ranger Service—LeBlanc had told him that—and knew that the Rangers would leave no stone unturned to run down anyone that would harm a member of that service.
“You make big talk, young fellow, but I’m telling you that this country is dangerous for you; not from me, understand, but from some people that I don’t control. Better save your skins and get back to the city and not concern yourselves with things that you shouldn’t.”
Green turned on his heel and walked into the restaurant, and the boys resumed their way.
“What’s all this about a letter, Garry?” asked Dick. “That is the first I’ve heard of it.”
“Same here,” said Garry. “It just struck me at the moment, however, that it would be a wise thing to do, and so I threw it at Lafe in the hopes that it might check his future actions slightly. I believe the shot went home at that.”
Arrived at Aunt Abbie’s, they found her all wrought up.
Her first words exploded like a bombshell.
“Ruth went out last night and hasn’t been home since!”
“Ruth gone?” ejaculated Garry. “Are you sure she has disappeared, or is there some place she would have gone to visit?”
“Why, she would never have gone out for any length of time without letting someone know where she was going. She dressed for a walk a little while after supper last night, and said she might drop in and see her girl friend, Nellie Crombie. When it came almost eleven o’clock her grandfather got worried and went to Nellie’s house, where they told him Ruth had left almost a half an hour before. It wouldn’t take her more than ten minutes to get home, so her grandfather got still more worried and came straight back here. At midnight she hadn’t come, and so he started out looking for her. He went to all her friends, but no one had seen her. Then he called up several people who live around the Crombie’s place to see if they had seen her, but no one had. He’s been up all night and was out this morning looking around. He is nearly frantic and so am I. I don’t know where she could have gone.”
Aunt Abbie was all of a tremble as she told the boys of the missing girl.
To the boys, here was something that demanded immediate attention. They surmised at once that it was part of the plan of the letter writers to terrorize the family. First there was the burning house, and since this had not succeeded in showing the little family that the conspirators were in deadly earnest, this last had been resorted to.
“Where can we find Mr. Everett now?” Garry asked Aunt Abbie.
“Goodness only knows; he’s been everywhere, asking all his friends if they have seen the girl. Best thing to do would be to go back to the village and ask if he has been seen. You ought to find him real easy that way. There has been some talk of organizing a search party to go into the woods, but what would Ruth have wanted in the forest alone and at night?”
The boys could not answer this question, and were about to turn back to the village, when they saw Mr. Everett approaching the house. He shuffled along as though he were extremely weary. When he saw the boys, his tired face lighted up.
“I’m glad you are here, for maybe you can help me; no one else can around here. I suppose Aunt Abbie has told you what has happened?”
“Yes, sir, and we’re just on the point of starting out to see what we can do,” said Garry. “Have you any news at all?”
“Yes; I found a man that said he saw Ruth going up Clemson street about twenty minutes to eleven.”
“Where is Clemson street and where does it lead to?” asked Phil.
“Why, it’s on the other side of the village. You boys know where it is; it’s the one you took that night you went to Lafe Green’s farm; it leads right past there and along towards the border.”
Suddenly a staggering thought hit Garry. Clemson street leading to Lafe Green’s farm. The secret passage. Ruth’s desire to help the boys play detective. Her eagerness last night. The secret that she would not let the boys in on.
All these thoughts flashed through Garry’s mind in rapid succession.
“I believe I have a good clue, and we’ll follow it up right away. My advice to you now, sir, is that you hustle off to bed and get some sleep. You’ll need all your strength, and you can depend on us to do everything in our power to help you,” said the Ranger leader.
“I guess I will take your advice. I’m tuckered out, and I don’t believe I could go another step without dropping. Now that I know you fellows are here, it relieves my mind considerable. I’ll only take a short nap and then wait for you to come back with news,” said the old man as he turned into the house.
Aunt Abbie was about to follow him, when Garry caught her by the hand.
“Listen, Aunt Abbie. Don’t wake him up under any circumstances, or we will have a mighty sick man on our hands. Let him sleep as long as he can, and in the meantime we’ll find something to work on. Now you’ll do that, won’t you?”
“Bless your heart, of course I will. He hasn’t had a mite of sleep since yesterday morning. Now good luck, boys, and bring our little girl back to us,” said the kindly old lady.
Off down the street started Garry, followed by his curious chums.
“What’s the big idea?” asked Dick. “Tell us before we explode with curiosity. What is your hunch?”
“Yes, out with it,” added Phil.
“I’m going to in a minute. I just wanted to get away from the house so that Aunt Abbie or the old gentleman would not hear us and worry. Here’s my hunch. You know how Ruth has said a half a dozen times that she envied us for our adventures, and that a girl never could do anything, and how she would like to help us out in this business?”
“Yes, we understand that; go on,” said Phil.
“And you know how excited she was yesterday afternoon? Well, I think she went to Lafe Green’s house to see if she could find anything out that would be of help to us. You know she’s daring and not afraid of anything, like so many girls are. It’s ten to one that she went there. You remember she knows about the secret passage because she was there when her grandfather told us about it that night.”
“Say, I believe you’re right, Garry. What’s the next move then?” said Dick.
“Looks to me as though the next move were to go directly to Green’s house and have a showdown,” said Phil.
“Right you are, Phil. On the march now. We’ll keep this under our hat so that there will be no danger of Lafe Green and his gang getting a tip.”
Almost running, they reached Clemson Road and headed in the direction of Green’s farm.
On the way they discussed the most advisable way to approach the house. Should there be any force of men there, it would be folly to approach the house openly, as it would give warning.
As they neared the place, Garry called a halt to allow them to regain their breath, for they were all puffing so fast had Garry set the pace. Also, he wanted to hold a council.
“There, we can see the house from here,” he said as they gathered under a big tree. “I thought I remembered the general lay of the land. You see we can go around through the field there and come up back of the barn, and from there to the house is so short a distance that we can make it in a few seconds on the run. Dick, you get in front of the barn after we reach the house, to prevent anyone from making an escape through the secret passage. Phil and I will beard the lion in his den.”
“Just a minute, though,” put in Dick. “I am game to do anything you decide, but can we go busting into a man’s house without a warrant or any authority?”
“Technically we can’t, but this seems to be a time for action if ever there was one. If we find our guess to be correct, and Ruth is held there, no one will bring up the question of our authority. We are dealing with known criminals, and we can show good cause for our suspicions. At any rate, we’ll think about that later. Like the western sheriffs used to say, it’s a case of shoot first and ask questions afterwards.”
“Let’s go,” said Garry enthusiastically.
Garry’s enthusiasm was transferred to the others, and off across the fields they started, bending low in the hay to avoid detection as much as possible, although they did not think too sharp a watch was being kept in the day time, except possibly the roadway that led to the house.
When they reached the back of the barn, Garry halted them again.
“First look to your rifles. We might need them. Now, Dick, give us forty seconds to reach the house, then run around and take your stand where you can watch the barn door. If you need help, fire your rifle twice. Now Phil, shoot for the house.”
Garry and Phil started and Dick glued his eyes on his watch.
At the house they saw no sign of anyone having heard their approach, and there seemed to be no indication of anyone’s being around. Garry began to think the house was deserted and made up his mind that even if this were the case he was going through it.
They came around to the front door, which stood open, and Garry stuck his head through the doorway and called:
“Hullo, there in the house.”
Both boys kept their rifles in such position that they could be thrown up instantly. For a moment there was no response, then Garry repeated his call. There was a sound of someone shuffling along in his stocking feet, then a man came into the hall.
Garry and Phil almost dropped their rifles from surprise, for there stood one of the tramps.
“What you want,” he half grunted. From his tousled appearance he had evidently been asleep.
“We want to have a look through this house, and while we’re at it we want you,” answered Garry.
“Want me?” asked the man, surprised out of his drowsiness.
“Yes; you’re wanted for bail jumping down Portland way. The Gordon station and postoffice robbery, you know.”
“You policemen?” asked the man, who appeared dazed at the knowledge of the boys concerning him.
“No, we’re not policemen, but we’re going to take a look through this house and then take you back to the village,” said Garry firmly.
“Where’s your warrant?” demanded the tramp.
“Haven’t got one,” returned Garry promptly.
“Then you can’t do anything with me,” announced the man, becoming bolder.
“Oh, yes we can. We’re officers of the state, and besides, any citizen can apprehend a criminal and turn him over to an officer. Now speak up lively and tell us if there is a girl being held prisoner in this house.”
A momentary gleam of fear appeared in the man’s eyes, but he made haste to answer:
“’Course not; ain’t no womenkind of any sort around here. This is Mr. Green’s house.”
Both Garry and Phil could see the man was lying, and knew that their guess was correct. Either Ruth was in the house, or this tramp knew something about her.
“Come on now, come through. You know the girl I mean. Where is she? Phil, keep your rifle on this fellow, and if he makes a move while I go through the house, blow him up,” ordered Garry.
“Say, listen. What do I get if I put you fellows wise to all this?” demanded the tramp. “And how do you chaps know anything about me? Not that I’m admittin’ anything you said about me.”
“We know you all right. We helped catch you in our cottage down Portland way early this summer,” said Garry.
The tramp peered at Garry closely. Then he spat out an oath.
“I thought I knew you when I saw you the other day. Guess you’ve got me right. Well, you haven’t told me what I get if I tell you about the girl.”
“You’ll get nothing in the way of being let loose, if that’s what you’re driving at,” answered Garry. “And if you don’t tell us what you know you will come in for a few years extra on a charge of abduction. I’ll do this though. You tell us what you know and we’ll put it in on our report and that will get you out of this scrape.”
The tramp thought this over for a moment, and then appeared to decide that the jig was up and he might as well save himself at the expense of his pals.
“There was a girl came here last night through a certain passage to the house here, and Green and the Frenchman discovered her listening to them talk and caught her before she could get away.”
“What Frenchman do you mean?” interposed Garry quickly.
“The one they call Jean,” answered the tramp sullenly.
So there was another hunch that made good. Green and Jean had hitched forces again. That meant that the halfbreed had come directly to this place after he had made his escape from the lumber-camp with the aid of the motor boat.
“Where is she now, in the house here?” demanded Garry eagerly.
“No,” said the man. “They was afraid someone was with her or was going to follow her here, so they rushed her out. That is, the Frenchman did. He said he would take her to a hideout he had. I think he said it was on the river; what did he call it? Penicton, or something like that.”
“I know. Penocton is the name, Garry. That’s the one we visited that time we found our tourmaline mine,” put in Phil.
“Do you know anything more about it than that?” quizzed Garry.
“No, that’s all I know.”
“Just one thing more,” said Garry hurriedly. “How did you fellows come to be hitched up with this gang?”
“Green hired us to do a little job for him.”
“What was it?”
“None of your business. Say, look here. I’ve told you all you wanted to know, more than I should. Now my mouth’s shut, see? I ain’t a goin’ to tell you nothin’ more. Not even if you beat my head in with your gun,” and the tramp relapsed into sullen silence. He seemed to be sorry now that he had gone so far in his answers.
“Phil, there’s one chance that all this may be a string of lies; and to be on the safe side, I’m going through the house. You keep this fellow under cover, and if anyone approaches, fire your rifle once, and back this fellow into the house, and make him lock the door. I’ll be with you, then, in a minute.”
Garry went into the house and made a systematic search of the house, starting with the top floor and the attic, peering into all the closets and any spot that would make a likely hiding place. He made no discoveries on the top floor, and descended to the main floor again. Here he found nothing, and was preparing to descend the cellar for a last look, when he saw the latch on the door being raised.
He stood stock still, and lifting his rifle, waited in silence.
The door opened slowly and noiselessly, and he was just about to order whoever was behind it to come out, as he was covered, when a head came cautiously around the door, and Garry dropped his rifle butt to the floor and began to laugh.
Instead of Green or one of his cohorts, as he had expected, the head belonged to no other than Dick!
“Say, I’m glad to see you” said Dick with a sigh of relief. “We did a fool thing in not deciding how long I was to wait without hearing from you; and you were so long that I thought you had been found and were tied up in some corner with Green and all his friends standing guard over you. So I came through the passageway to see if I could be of any help. What’s new? Have you found Ruth?”
In a few brief sentences Garry informed him of what had transpired in the past few minutes.
“Now we’ll get our prize tramp here and hustle him back to town and deliver him over to the constable. Then, while you fellows follow our original plan about the engineer, I’ll set out after Ruth. It’ll have to be luck for me to find her, but I’ll track down the river bank in the hope of finding some trail.”
The return to town was made without incident, though the boys kept a sharp watch for fear that some of the tramp’s friends might come along and attempt to free him from his captivity. They led him directly to the little lock-up and turned him over to the constable with instructions to notify the sheriff so he could get in touch with the authorities at Portland.
Garry’s last words to the tramp were to bid him to keep silent about his having told them about Ruth and LeBlanc, threatening if he opened his mouth to forget his promise to plead for special immunity for him. The tramp readily agreed to keep his silence.
“Now gather round here fellows. I’m going to stock up on provisions, and start for the river. You fellows had better arrange between yourselves to keep an eye on the engineer and Green. Decide who will take the engineer, and the other one watch Lafe. Either one may lead you to a clue.
“So that we will have check on my movements, start about eleven o’clock tomorrow morning to call me on the wireless. Keep calling me at intervals for two hours. Set your range for about twenty-five miles. I won’t be further away than that. If you cannot get me, get the sheriff and have Green taken up again and squeezed until he comes through with information about the girl. Of course LeBlanc will be arrested on sight, if he comes back here, but he probably is wherever he has taken Ruth.”
“Suppose we don’t hear from you; what about your own safety?” asked Phil.
“In that case, get some help and come after me. My plan is to go to that little town we passed through the time we found the tourmaline mine, and then head across the river. You remember it was all wooded land on the other side. I’ll leave several trail signs to show whether I went up or down the river. Then at intervals of a half a mile, I’ll tie a strip of white cloth to a bough on one of the trees along the river bank. If I turn into the woods at any point, I’ll tie the strip there and then leave trail signs. Keep an eye out for a small stone cairn, for I may leave a note. Now I’m off to the store for some groceries.”
Giving each of his chums a hearty grip of the hand, Garry headed for Denton’s general store.
Denton asked him several questions about why he was purchasing extra provisions, but Garry gave him evasive answers.
“By the way,” said Garry, “how come you didn’t think to tell us this morning about Miss Ruth Everett being missing?”
“I swan, I forgot all about it. I haven’t been thinking about much of anything lately except that dratted postoffice business. Then when I did think of it, you were out of sight. Have they heard anything about the girl?”
“Guess they’re working on something now.” Garry refrained from answering any questions, for there were three or four other men in the store, and he was now proceeding on the idea that every man was a potential enemy until he was proven otherwise.
Garry packed his knapsack carefully, and as a last thought bought a couple of yards of white cloth with which to make the trail marks he had promised to leave.
He took the trail they had taken the day they set out to discover the mine after they had succeeded in getting the missing portion of the torn map.
It was a good twenty mile hike to the town, and Garry put his best foot forward, for he wanted to reach the town before dark. He decided he would put up there for the night in the village hotel, if there was one, rather than stay in the woods.
Garry did not think it wise to sleep out in the forest where some misfortune might befall him, at a time when he needed all his strength, and above all, his liberty. Then, too, he wanted a good night’s sleep to be fresh for the coming day, which he fancied would be a hard one.
As he walked, he kept a keen lookout for any signs of trail,—a dropped handkerchief, or something of the sort. Garry hoped that Ruth would find some way of dropping something that might serve as a clue, for she was a bright girl, and knew that any little help would aid those whom she knew would seek to trail her as soon as her absence was discovered.
His pains were unrewarded, however, as he walked mile after mile. Garry was straining every nerve to make time, and took a pace that was much faster than the boys generally used when on plain patrol duty. Their summer in the woods had made good walkers of all of them, and they were able to make decent distances without more than ordinary fatigue.
It had been noon time when Garry left Hobart, and allowing himself until seven o’clock to get to the village of Chester, it would mean that he must make a trifle less than four miles every hour, counting out a few minutes for a breathing spell after every fifty or fifty-five minutes of walking.
His reckoning was not far wrong, for it was only about a quarter after seven when he pulled into Chester. He asked a pedestrian if there was any sort of a hotel or boarding house in the village, and was directed to one a short ways down the street. Garry was ravenously hungry, so he had his supper at the hotel, getting in just before the dining room closed. It was a typical country hotel, and the fare was good. After he had eaten, he sought out the owner and engaged him in conversation.
Garry asked what the other side of the river was like and if the woodland extended for many miles in both directions.
“On the upper side is the State Forest reserve, well patrolled by Rangers, while to the south is wild land that has not been cut for years,” said the hotel man.
“There was some talk of cutting there last winter, and then they decided to hold up till a track could be laid and the logs hauled to the river on flat cars to save time. In that way they could begin cutting at the far side and work toward the river. A party of surveyors laid out the proposed track, and they even laid about a half a mile of track. Then the owner died—name was Hasbrouck, I think—and his estate got tied up in the courts, and the work on the road was stopped. Now there’s no one around there. Once in a great while a camping party goes in there, but it isn’t popular except during the deer season, because of its wild growth, lots of ravines and rocky places.”
This long explanation was given Garry by the hotel owner, and Garry mentally decided that if LeBlanc had come there—and this was likely if the tramp’s words were true—this would be the section he would go to. The halfbreed would probably keep away from the Forest Reserve, with the chance of running across a Ranger.
Asking if the general store was open, and receiving an affirmative reply, Garry got directions for reaching it and set out. He knew that in all New England villages, the general store is the hangout for most of the men after nightfall, and here was the best place to get any likely gossip.
Garry found a half dozen men gathered inside, watching a checker game between two old men who were evidently the crack players of the village.
He made two or three minor purchases, mostly to get into conversation with the storekeeper.
The owner himself was there, and after he had sized up Garry’s attire, asked in true Yankee fashion:
“Come from the city?”
“Some little time ago,” answered Garry, “if you can call living only a few miles from Portland being from the city.”
“Figure on going campin’ around here?”
“No, just hiking through for awhile.”
“Fellow in here this morning and bought a lot of stuff, enough to last a while, so thought that you might be following him up, since he was alone, and camping alone ain’t much fun.”
Garry was not particularly interested in campers, but he wanted to ask some questions later, and knowing the Yankee way, which was to talk of other things and get acquainted by asking questions first, asked carelessly if the storekeeper knew the other man, or heard where he was going.
“No, never saw him before, and he warn’t the kind to give out much information about himself. After I talk with a man a few minutes, I generally get to the point where I can swap questions with him; but this chap looked as though he didn’t want a friend in the world, and maybe didn’t have one.”
“Grouchy looking customer, eh?” said Garry with a laugh.
“Yes, siree Bob, not only grouchy looking, but hard looking. Now that I think of him, I see it was foolish to ask if you were with him, for he was a different breed of cats from you. Funny looking bird.”
“What did he look like,” asked Garry, mainly to keep conversation up for a few minutes longer.
“Big black-haired chap with a black moustache and dark skin, high cheek bones, looked like a halfbreed to me. Talked pretty good English, but with a little accent like they do up by the border.”
Garry’s heart beat high with excitement, for the storekeeper had described Jean LeBlanc to a “T.”
When Garry left them, Phil and Dick debated as to what course they would pursue. Phil advanced the suggestion that one should make shift to get on the train that went to Coldenham and see what, if anything, transpired along the way.
“First I move we go to see Denton and find out if there will be any valuable mail sent this afternoon,” said Phil.
This was met with assent by Dick, and they departed for the general store.
“Your friend was here only a little while ago,” Denton told them. “Bought a lot of stuff and then hiked off. Goin’ to follow him?”
“No; he’s gone off on a little private trip,” said Phil. He gave no more information, since he saw plainly that Garry had told the postmaster very little about what he intended to do.
When they asked about the mail, Denton said:
“Yes, there’s quite a batch of it for the Ferguson outfit came in on the noon train, and there are several letters with cash in them from around this section. He owns a lot of property round here, and this is about time for the rents to be sent to him. Getting near the first of the month, and he’s a hard landlord, especially to the tenant farmers. Raises hob with them if they’re a day behind on the rent, and to be on the safe side, most of them send it before the first.”
Dick glanced at Phil, as though to say that this was the proper day to start investigating.
Phil asked Denton if he would mind his looking at the letters.
“’Tisn’t a regular thing to do, but guess it will be all right.”
“I don’t mean that I want to inspect the letters. I only want to see the way they are carried. I wouldn’t ask to touch United States mail without proper authority,” explained Phil.
“Oh, that’s all right,” and Denton led the way to the office, where he opened the safe and showed them a heavy leather sack.
“I lock it here and keep the key, and the postmaster at Coldenham has a key to open it with. Often times there’s registered mail only for the Ferguson mill, and that’s the case today,” said the postmaster, as he locked the safe.
“How is that taken to the train?” questioned Dick.
“I generally take it myself, or else send Bill, my assistant in the store, with it. We give it to the engineer, Gardener his name is, and he gives us a receipt. We have regular blanks for it. Then it’s met by the postoffice man at the other end.”
“What does the crew of that train consist of,” was Dick’s next question.
At this query Denton began to laugh.
“Well, now let’s see. There’s the engineer and the fireman and the conductor and the brakeman and the railway mail clerk. And the name of all of him is Gardner.”
“You mean it’s a one-man train?” asked Dick.
“Exactly. Don’t need any more than that. There isn’t any stop between here and Coldenham, and the only provision for passengers is about half a coach; the rest of the car is used for baggage, whenever there is any. Then the rest of the train is made up of freight cars that are used for pulp. The station agent here takes the tickets as the people get on the train, and the engineer only has to run the train. He fires himself most of the time. In bad weather he has a helper. It’s only a one-way track and few crossings, so he’s really all that’s needed. Old Ferguson is a tight Scotchman and won’t pay out any more than he can help in spite of the fact he’s the wealthiest man around here.”
Having gotten their desired information, they left the store and held a conclave.
“See how this strikes you, Dick. I’ll find some way to get on that freight train without being observed, and after we get started I’ll get near the engine and watch if the engineer throws any letters out to anyone, or makes a stop to let some confederate on.
“In the meantime you keep watch on Lafe Green, and perhaps you could go to the lean-to and see if your camera trap worked. I suggest that I go on the train, because it would be easier for me to board it while it was going, as I may possibly have to do, and since I am a little lighter than you, no offense, Dick, I could manage better on a moving train.”
“That gives you all the fun,” half grumbled Dick, “But I see your point, and this is a case of getting results and not having adventure. Besides, I want to see if that trap worked, and if we can find out the perpetrator of the rattle snake trick.”
This being settled, the boys separated. Dick thought for a moment of going straight to the French restaurant and getting something to eat, and sizing up the inmates, also to see who Lafe might be talking with.
However, he discarded this thought as being foolhardy, and wisely decided there was no need of putting his mouth in the lion’s jaws needlessly. He remembered the time he was captured by this outfit before, and had no desire for a second experience.
Furthermore, his appearance there would immediately put anyone he wanted to watch on guard, and he could accomplish nothing. It was well past noon, and Dick, as usual, remembering his inner man, decided to go to Aunt Abbie’s and prevail on her to give him something to eat, and at the same time see how Mr. Everett was. There was always the slim chance that Ruth might have turned up, but this was only a chance in a thousand.
For his part, Phil went towards the station to reconnoitre the ground and see what would be his chances of boarding the train that went to Coldenham.
He looked carefully around the station platform to see if there was anyone he knew, or anyone who would be apt to be interested in his movements, but outside of one or two loafers, the platform and station were devoid of people. The station agent was in his little office busily ticking away at the telegraph key, sending a message.
After his hasty survey, Phil darted on into the yards. Although Hobart was a very small town, the yards there were quite sizable, since it was a sort of a transfer point for freight and passengers bound into Canada, and then there was a long siding that was used for the pulp cars that came from Ferguson’s mills at Coldenham.
Along one side of the siding was the long storehouse where the bulky packages of pulp were stored until a sufficient quantity had accumulated to make it worth while to have a long string of freight cars come from Bangor or below to carry it to the paper mills.
Phil noted that the Coldenham train was already on this siding, but the engineer was nowhere to be seen. He made his way to the storehouse landing and walked along the string of cars wondering in just what manner he could get on the train without being observed. He did not, of course, care to buy a ticket and ride as a regular passenger, for that would tip his hand to any of the enemy that might be around.
There was the chance of ducking into one of the freight cars, and hiding there until the train started, and then in some manner making his way to the roof of the car, and in this way proceed along the top until he could come within sight of the cab.
The slight element of danger in this was that some station employe or the engineer himself, for that matter, might make a tour of the cars just for the purpose of preventing anyone from getting a free ride.
After conning over the situation, Phil discarded the idea of boarding the train while it was in the yard.
There was still a long wait until the train would start, so Phil decided to utilize it by strolling up the track for a short distance to see if there was any spot where he could wait and, unobserved, get on the moving train. He walked nearly a mile, but saw that there was no spot where he could do this. In some places, a house or two bordered the tracks, and women could be seen working in little gardens, or sewing while sitting in front of the houses.
At others, where there was no danger of being seen, the ditching at the side of the road provided no place where he could locate himself without being observed by the engineer.
He glanced at his watch and saw that he still had plenty of time for further investigation, so he walked on.
His added walk was rewarded, for he came to a spot where there was a fairly deep cut between two natural miniature cliffs. Spanning the cliffs was an open bridge; that is, it was open at the top, but the sides came up for a matter of three feet or so.
This was just what he wanted. He could wait until he heard the approach of the train and then hide behind one of the sides of the bridge. As soon as the engine had passed under, he would only have to crawl over the side, and drop to the top of one of the cars as it passed under the bridge. Looking up, Phil estimated that there was only about two feet clearance between the top of a car and the bottom of the bridge.
This would make it a safe proposition to drop to the train, even though it was moving. Had it been anything but the slow Coldenham train, he knew such a feat would be impossible, for a swiftly moving express would have thrown him off almost as soon as he touched the top.