The final reason for believing this to be the proper trail lay in the fact that it was less brushy and thick along the bank of the brook, making it easier walking. Garry walked along for some distance, keeping his eyes glued to the ground in the hope of finding “sign” of some sort to show that his quarry had passed that way.With a muffled exclamation he bent to the ground and picked up—another button.Carefully comparing it with the other, he found them to be exactly alike. Then it dawned on him that Ruth in some manner must have been able to detach them from her clothing and was dropping them for the purpose of leaving a trail behind her.Garry wondered if the locket might not also have been purposely dropped with the same idea in view. The discovery made him hasten his steps, and he fairly tore off yard after yard. The walking was none too easy, for it was not the soft flooring of the forest such as he had patrolled on his father’s land. Here the way was rough and uneven, and as he walked he noted that the grade tended to rise, and thought it would shortly get into hilly country.Sometime later he found a third, and then a fourth button. After that he found no more. Each time that he had made a discovery, he had marked the spot carefully and made short detours from the path, to see if at any time the party had turned off.This had naturally taken a great deal of precious time, and peering up into the sky through the branches of the trees, he discovered that he could not see the sun, and judged that it must be at least five in the afternoon.Garry had gone nearly two miles after finding the last button, and since he could find no more, wondered if he had lost the trail. By the time he stopped to consider this, he found he was at the beginning of a sharp rise in the ground, and figured that he was at the foot of a hill. A few minutes’ hard walking convinced him of the truth of this thought, and he came to what was evidently the top of a high knoll or hill.There was one thing left to do, and that was to climb a tree and sweep the surrounding country through his glasses in the hope of finding a clue. The brook which he had been following stopped at a spring almost at the top of the little hill. This spring naturally was the source of the brook, which likely ended in the Penocton River.He selected the highest tree he could find, and since the branches did not begin for some feet from the ground, had recourse to the method he and his chums used.This consisted of taking a long piece of cord, or better still a stout wire, and circling it around his person and the tree. By alternately lifting this and bracing his heels against the tree, he was able to edge himself up inch by inch till he could reach one of the branches.From then on climbing was a simple matter. He reached the top of the tree, going as high as he dared before it would bend with his weight. He had shown wisdom in picking the particular tree he had, for it towered above its fellows for several feet.Garry found he had a good view of the country around him. He was surprised to note that he had made a considerable climb without noticing how great it was, for although he was conscious while walking that he was on rising ground, he had no idea that the gradient was so steep. To one side he could see a little depression, and then a sharp rise that led to a series of ever mounting hills.At another point there was a depression as though some ravine existed there. He watched this spot fixedly for some minutes, for the sun was just dropping over the horizon, and the vicinity was not perfectly visible. Then he gave a sharp exclamation. Rising from the ravine, or depression, or whatever it was, was a thin spiral of smoke, that grew a little thicker after he had watched it for some moments.He fished in his pocket and drew out his compass, noted the exact point from which the smoke seemed to come, and then made haste to descend the tree, scratching his hands in his hurry to get to the bottom.He got to the ground by “bending” one of the limbs. This is a simple matter, as nearly every boy knows. It consists of crawling out on one of the branches until the weight of the body begins to pull it toward the earth. The farther one goes the nearer the earth comes to the limb, until one can drop off and let the limb fly back to its original position.Calculating the direction by referring to the compass, he set off in the direction of the place from which he had seen the smoke emanating.While in the treetop he had estimated that it must lay almost a mile away, and the going was hard. The brush was tangled and thick, and the ground rocky. Where there were scattered rocks, the roots of the trees projected as though coming in search of nourishment that was denied them in the rocky soil.Here and there he noted places where the brush had evidently been torn away to allow some one to pass through.After almost an hour of tiresome toil, he approached a little clearing, and then became exceedingly cautious and wary. He could see that there was a slight ravine there, with an entrance between two great rocks.Creeping to this entrance he peered in, and saw that a crude shack had been erected at one end. He must approach the shack without knowing who was in it, or how many might be there. He divested himself of his knapsack, sticking it in back of a pile of brush, so that should anyone approach, they would not be warned of the presence of a stranger.Then with his rifle grasped firmly in his hand, he walked slowly and noiselessly to the door of the shack. He half expected to be challenged by LeBlanc before he could reach the door.No one halted his approach, however, and he came up to the door. It was half ajar, and holding his rifle so that he could instantly cover anyone, he threw open the door.There he saw a sight that made his heart leap.In one corner of the shack was Ruth, tied hand and foot, and a dirty rag stuffed in her mouth for a gag. In addition to the bonds on her wrists and ankles, she was tied to a projecting log.He ran over to the girl, whipping his knife from his pocket as he did so.It was the work of a moment only to cut the bonds that tied her and release the gag from her mouth. Ruth let him free her, and then stood erect for a moment, and being only a girl, dropped over in a dead faint.The inside of the cabin was nearly dark, and he was searching about wildly to see if there was any water within, when he heard a muffled groan from another corner.Garry ran to the corner and was astonished to see that a man, tied and gagged in the same manner that Ruth had been, was lying there.The boy hesitated for a moment before releasing him, and then reflected that he could not be inimical since such drastic measures had been taken to render him helpless.His indecision was only momentary, and then with a few swift strokes of his knife, he freed the man.The stranger rose weakly to his feet, and for a moment could not be understood. Garry thought that he must have been gagged for some little time, as his thick speech indicated that his tongue was probably swollen.“Guess you came just about in time,” he finally managed to utter.“From the looks of things here you’re right,” answered Garry. “But who are you?”Then came the astonishing answer:“Name’s Simmons. I’m a United States postal inspector!”CHAPTER XIGARRY FINDS RUTH“You’re who?” asked Garry, so astonished that he almost stuttered.“Simmons, I told you; but first, have you any water?”Garry had been so flustered by Ruth’s fainting that he had forgotten his canteen, which lay outside with his knapsack. He dashed out of the shack and in a moment returned with it.He gave the man a little, cautioning him to be careful and not drink too much. The man realized the sense of this, and drank sparingly.The boy then turned his attention to Ruth, and after spattering some of the water on her face, forced a small quantity of it between her lips, and then fell to chafing her and hands and wrists. In a few moments the color returned to her face and she opened her eyes.She cast a frightened glance around, and then seeing that Garry was standing over her, laughed weakly.“Guess that’s the first time I ever fainted in my life. Oh, I’m so glad to see you, but I kept up hope all the time that you and the boys would come. Are they with you?”“No, I’m here alone; but that doesn’t matter as long as you’re safe and sound. Just tell me one thing. Who brought you here?”“It was Jean LeBlanc,” answered Ruth.“I was pretty sure it was,” said Garry, “I just wanted corroboration.”The man who called himself Simmons was stirring around, easing his cramped muscles and restoring the circulation to his arms and legs.Now he approached Garry and said:“Look, young chap, have you anything to eat with you? I haven’t had a bite since yesterday noon, and neither has this girl here.”“Yes, I’ve plenty. Just wait until I get my knapsack outside.” And Garry was about to get it, when he was interrupted by Ruth.“I’m hungry, too; but you aren’t going to stay in this dreadful place another minute, are you? Can’t we get away from her right now?”“Guess that would be the wisest course, Miss,” said the man. “But I’m pretty weak, and you must be also. We couldn’t do much unless we had something to fortify ourselves with. We must be a good many miles away from civilization.”“Yes, we’re about eight or nine miles all told from the river, and it’s getting too dark to go wandering back through the woods,” answered Garry. Then as an afterthought he asked:“Can you handle a gun, Mr. Simmons? I’m calling you Simmons because you say that’s your name; but later on I’m going to ask a lot of questions.”“You bet I can,” was the quick response, “and the first time I see that snaky Frenchman I’m going to handle one if it’s handy.”“Well, there’s seemingly only one plausible entrance to this place, and that’s by the mouth of this ravine. You take the rifle and stand guard there, and I’ll get some supper. After that we can decide on the next move. From the mouth of this ravine here you could pick off a half a dozen men should they approach, and so we’ll be safe enough.”This being settled, Garry went out, to return a few moments later with his knapsack.“Do you know if there’s any water anywhere around here?”“Why, the old Indian woman used to be gone only a few moments and she’d come back with some in that old tin pail there,” answered Simmons.“The old who? But never mind; questions can wait for a while,” and Garry took the pail and went out. He found that there was a spring outside the entrance. He filled his pail and hastened back to the shack.In a little while he had coffee, bacon and spider bread cooking in the crude fireplace. A great log had been thrown on that morning, he found, and it was this that burned and smouldered through the day, making the smoke that guided him to his destination.Simmons kept watch while Garry prepared the supper, and then Garry took his turn at watching while the others ate. In turn he was relieved by Simmons and made his own supper.The meal over, they gathered at the mouth of the ravine, and discussed the situation. First Garry asked for an account of what had happened.Simmons told his story.“As I told you, my name is Simmons, and I’m a postal inspector. I was detailed from Washington several days ago to go to Hobart to investigate alleged irregularities in the mail there, and reached the town by nightfall. I got my supper at a restaurant there, kept by a French chap, and was taking a walk around just to get the lay of the land.“I walked out of the town just a ways, and next thing I knew, I was set on by three men, and though I fought as best I could, I was overpowered. They hustled me to a farm not very far from the town, and kept me there for a couple of days. Then one night I was bundled into an automobile and carried some miles.“When the auto left me, my captor made me march at the point of a gun to the bank of a river. My hands were tied behind me, and I could make no break for liberty. It was night, and there was never a person to be seen. The chap who was leading me, a big, burly, black-haired Frenchman, tripped me up when I got to the river bank and proceeded to tie my feet and gag me. Then he disappeared and came back after a while, and picked me up as though I were a child—I’m not a very hefty person anyway—and carried me to a canoe on the water’s edge.“He paddled over the river. I’m going to call this chap LeBlanc. Isn’t that what you said his name was, Miss? The same one that brought you was the one that guided me here.”“Yes, that was LeBlanc,” said Ruth.“Well, to make a long story short, I was brought here and kept tied hand and foot. There was an old Indian man and woman here, and they guarded me. When they fed me, one hand would be untied, and the old man kept me covered with a rifle. I’ve worn my wrists raw trying to work out of my bonds, but never with any success.“Then yesterday afternoon the Indian went away, and about two hours later this LeBlanc arrived here with the girl. She was tied up, and the old woman was given some instructions in French. I don’t speak the language, so I don’t know what it was all about.”“He told her to wait until morning and then go back home,” put in Ruth. “I can understand French enough to know what he was talking about.”“Well, the woman went this morning after cooking her breakfast and eating it in front of us without even giving us a bite, and that’s all there is. Nothing happened until you came here and saved us from what was probably certain death, for I believe it was meant that we should be left here to starve to death.”Simmons concluded his story, and then Garry asked Ruth to add hers.“I don’t want to tell you, because I know now what a silly, foolish girl I was to do what I did; but I suppose you will find out eventually, so I might as well own up. I wanted to do something to help you boys find what you were after, and when I heard Lafe Green had come back to town, I felt sure he was mixed up in this. I remembered how you boys had gotten your information the time you got the smugglers. So I went over to the Crombie’s to see my girl friend, and made up my mind that when I left there I would go out to Green’s and go through the secret passage and discover what I could. I wanted to find some clue to show you boys that a girl could do things too, and everything would have been all right but for a sneeze. I got into the kitchen all right, and was going to go upstairs, as I remembered your telling about doing, and just as I got to the middle of the floor I sneezed.“I knew that everything was all off then, and started to run for the back door, for I didn’t want them to know I had come through the passage, when Green and LeBlanc rushed out into the kitchen and caught me.”Ruth stopped and shuddered.“Then they tried to make me tell them why I came and how I got in, and LeBlanc twisted my arm till I thought he would break it, but I shut my teeth and wouldn’t say anything.“Finally they locked me in a closet, and a little while later put a nasty old cloth in my mouth and brought me by automobile the same way they did Mr. Simmons. It was LeBlanc’s brother who came with him, and they hid in the woods with the machine while Jean went away. He came back with his arms full of bundles, and they put a pistol so it stuck in my ribs and warned me to make no sound and marched me to the canoe. When they got me in, I was tied up and then Baptiste went away and Jean brought me across the river and here.”“How about the buttons and the locket that I found?” asked Garry.“Why, I didn’t know about the locket for quite a few minutes after I lost it. It must have been while we were eating. We stopped and LeBlanc built a fire and cooked some food. Just as soon as I missed the locket I thought that someone might find it, and so I thought then about leaving other things behind. The only thing I could get at were those buttons, and there were only four of those on the side of my dress. I put them there for a little ornament, and when I did it I never thought that they would lead you to me. There, don’t you think I was very foolish?”“Yes, I think you were,” said Garry with a laugh.“That isn’t the right answer at all,” she pouted. “You should have said I wasn’t.”“You should be mighty thankful that this young man had brains enough to find us, young lady,” said Simmons sternly. “By the way, there are two questions I should like to ask you, young man. First, how did you find us?”Garry explained about the visit they had made to Lafe Green’s and the confession they had obtained from the tramp.“The rest was just a hunch, and it turned out to be a lucky one,” concluded Garry.“That’s all right, then. Now what made you look so funny when I told you my name, and what made you appear to doubt me?”“Nothing very much, unless you can call it funny when I tell you that we have seen and talked with a man who says he is a United States postal inspector whose name is Simmons, and who is now at Hobart investigating the robberies.”“What?” exploded the man. “Some one parading under my name?”“Exactly,” answered Garry dryly. “One of the pair of you must be wrong.” Just then a thought struck Garry. “I guess you’re the right one, and something that puzzled me for a while has been explained.”Garry had remembered the puzzling sentence that was broken off when the radio failed to work. What was it his chum had said? Yes, something about Simmons being arrested. Evidently the boys had detected the fraud—for fraud the man posing as Simmons must have been—and had him seized before he could do any more damage.“Guess we’ll find the impostor safe in jail when we get back to Hobart,” he told the real Simmons. Then he related all that he knew of the supposed inspector, and concluded by giving him a description of the man.“Why, I think I know who that is,” said Simmons excitedly. “That description fits perfectly a man named Sullivan, who was discharged from the service about a year ago. There was never anything proven on him, but circumstances surrounding certain actions of his were suspicious, and he was let go for the good of the service. In the post-office department, a man must be above even the breath of suspicion.”“Well, we can’t tell what the outcome has been until we get back to Hobart,” said Garry. “Which reminds me, when are we going to start? I am afraid that we will have to stay here until morning. It would be a treacheorus job finding our way back through the woods, and besides I need some rest, and it is likely that you people do. You must be all cramped up from being tied the way you were. Now I suggest this: I have a blanket with me, and Ruth can have that and sleep in the cabin. And you can use our coats and sleep out here on some boughs that I will cut. If you go to sleep now, I will keep watch at the mouth of the ravine till about one o’clock. Then I will wake you and you do sentry till morning. When dawn comes, we will hike back to the river and get across. There we’ll telephone to Ruth’s grandfather and then get an auto to take us around the out of the way road that takes us to Hobart.”This was accordingly agreed on, and soon Garry was alone with his thoughts. The minutes dragged into hours, and each snapping of the twigs or the fall of an occasional dry branch quickened Garry to the alert and prevented him from nodding, as he was fairly tired after his hike to the cabin in the ravine. It was about midnight, he thought, when he heard a crashing through the undergrowth, and he jumped to his feet. There was silence for a moment and then more noise.Garry wondered whether it was one of the Indians or Le Blanc that was coming, and he gripped his rifle tensely, awaiting the approach of the intruder. For a time all was still, and he decided that it was some woods animal.Some instinct must have warned him to look up to the edge of the ravine, and he saw a pair of eyes gleaming in the darkness. Just then a form launched itself from the overhanging rocks, straight toward him!CHAPTER XIINATE WEBSTER CALLS ON THE BOYSGarry waited not to discover what the flying shape might be. Raising his rifle to his shoulder he fired straight at the black mass, pumping the shots from his magazine as fast as he could work the mechanism.He retreated hastily as he fired, and at the second shot heard a scream of pain, then there was a thud as some body struck the ground and writhed and clawed.Garry fired two more shots at the screeching mass and then all was quiet and the struggling ceased. The sound of the shots had, of course, wakened Simmons, and he rushed forward to where Garry was standing.“What is it? Are we attacked? Did you kill him?” The questions were shot out rapidly.“Don’t know yet what it is, but if you wait a moment I’ll have a look,” said Garry.Just then Ruth came hurrying out. She had snatched a burning stick from the fireplace and held this as a torch. It must be remembered that this entire occurrence took far less time than it takes to tell it.Taking the flickering torch from the girl, Garry advanced to where the dark mass lay, and looked it over. The others crowded around him. It was a dark animal built something like a lioness, and as it lay stretched out looked to be almost seven feet long, measuring from tip of the nose to the tip of the tail.“What is that, a lion?” asked Simmons.“Why, yes, it is a specie of lion; I suppose you could call it that,” answered Garry. “It’s generally called a mountain lion; sometimes a panther, and by the natives a ‘painter.’ Its correct name is Puma. Say, he is sure a beauty, isn’t he? Good thing he gave warning of his approach and put me on guard, for if he had dropped on me from the edge of the cliff, he would have made mincemeat of me with those terrible fangs and sharp claws.”“Are they generally to be feared?” asked Simmons.“Of course they’re nothing you would want to take into your cabin and lay down beside,” answered Garry, “but as a rule they are not very courageous. This one must have been ravenously hungry to have even thought of attacking a human being. Generally they prey on deer in the forest, and if they summon up enough courage, will go on farm land and raise havoc among sheep and young cattle. This is such wild land here, that it had probably had nothing to eat for some time, hence its attempt to light on me. I wish there were more time and no element of danger around here, for I would like to skin it and take the pelt back with me as a souvenir of the night. Perhaps we can come here after we have taken Ruth home and get it.”Garry had still an hour to stand on guard, and so Simmons went back to sleep. The boy was tired himself, and welcomed the coming of the hour when he was to be relieved.At the appointed time, he roused Simmons and handed over the rifle.“Don’t hesitate to shoot if there is anything suspicious, and that will wake me to come to your aid. However, I don’t think there is much chance of anyone coming at this time of the night.”Garry was asleep almost as soon as he had touched the boughs, and knew nothing until he felt a hand shaking him. He looked up and saw that it was just getting light.“Now for a quick breakfast,” he cried, leaping to his feet, “and then back to civilization and safety.”The breakfast over, they hurriedly left the place.“We won’t have to bid any tearful farewell to this place, will we Garry?” said Ruth.All felt fresh and they made fine time in returning over the course they had come. Since there was no need for stopping and searching for trail, they covered the distance in much less time than it had taken Garry the previous day.The worst of the going was the track from the cabin in the ravine to the brook, but from there the walking was comparatively easy. They had started about six o’clock and by half-past nine reached the point where Garry had discovered the campfire the day before.“That reminds me,” said Garry to Ruth, “I haven’t given you back your locket yet. You should keep that as a prize, for it was the first clue that eventually led me to where you were imprisoned.”“I shall keep it all my life,” declared the girl.Simmons kept urging the others to hurry, for he wanted to get on the ground and see what had been done by the impostor who had paraded under his name. He did not seem to take much comfort in the statement of Garry that the false Simmons had been arrested, so Garry kept silence.At the river bank, Garry bade the party wait while he looked at the place where the birch-bark canoe had been secreted.The canoe was gone.He hastened to the place where he had concealed his own craft, and was relieved to find that it was still there, safe and sound, just as he had left it.He drew it from its hiding place and let it down into the water and paddled swiftly to where Simmons and Ruth were waiting. They embarked and then Garry pushed out into the river, plying his paddle with long, swift strokes, that fairly set the canoe dancing on the water.“There,” murmured Ruth, as she sank back against one of the thwarts. “Now I feel really safe. I was afraid any minute that I would see the horrible face of LeBlanc and have him pounce on us out of the woods.”“Twenty minutes more now and we’ll be in an auto, provided we can hire one, and speeding toward Hobart,” said Garry.He was as good as his word, and soon the little party were at the hotel, where he arranged for the hiring of a flivver to carry them home. The hotel keeper evinced some surprise at the sight of the others, but Garry did not take the trouble to enlighten him.“By the way,” said Garry, “do you happen to know of any boys around here that own a birch-bark canoe? I happened to damage one that I found on the other shore, and would like to leave my name in case you should hear about it.”“Nobody in these parts owns a bark canoe,” declared the hotel man positively, “but I’ll take your name if you want me to.”“It will take us almost as long to go by auto as it would to walk across through the woods,” said Garry, “for this is a mighty roundabout way; but it will be easier than walking, and I think we all have earned a little rest.”“If you don’t mind a little bumping occasionally,” said the chauffeur, “I can get you to Hobart in about two hours; but it’s over a long stretch of road that is hardly more than a lane.”The party was unanimously agreed on preferring the bumps to the extra time, and accordingly the driver changed his direction and took a course that led him to what seemed to be nothing more than an abandoned tote road.The driver spoke the truth when he said it might be a little bumpy.“Whew!” said Garry, as he was lifted almost a foot out of his seat and came back with a thud that jarred nearly every bone in his body. “I’m beginning to think that we are getting more than we bargained for.”“I told you there were a few bumps,” said the driver, grinning.“You’re right,” declared Simmons, “only it seems that we are missing the road altogether and just jumping from bump to bump.”“Never mind,” consoled Ruth, as she hung on to the side of the tin chariot. “We are getting to Hobart all the quicker.”Finally they struck decent road again, and the driver stepped on the gas and fairly made the car fly over the road.When they reached the outskirts of the little village, Ruth directed them to Aunt Abbie’s house, and in a few moments she and her grandfather were clasped in each other’s arms. Good old Aunt Abbie was fluttering around, alternately patting Ruth on the shoulder and then Garry.“Now we’ll have dinner right away,” she declared. “You people must be starved.”Aunt Abbie’s idea of a panacea for all the human ills of the body was a “good meal.”“Where are Dick and Phil?” asked Garry.“Oh, they went traipsing off to the postoffice a few minutes ago,” said Aunt Abbie. “If you just ring up there on the ’phone you may find them there. They flustered all around the house this morning worrying about you, and then went out.”Garry manipulated the telephone, for as in most small villages, the telephones are old style and one has to turn a crank or generator to call central.Denton himself answered the ’phone. He was mighty pleased to hear Garry’s voice and expressed himself as “being plumb tickled to death to talk with him.”“Yes, your friends are here, and some time they’ve been having while you were gone. Want to talk to one of them, or shall I tell ’em to hike over to Aunt Abbie’s right away?”Garry told the postmaster to do the latter thing, and then went back to where the others were assembled.“Now let’s hear all that’s happened,” he said to Mr. Everett.“I guess perhaps we’d better wait till the boys get back, and let them have the fun of telling you themselves. It’s been pretty exciting, though, what with bank burglars and masqueraders of the law.”Just as Aunt Abbie called that dinner was ready, Phil and Dick came tearing in. They leaped on Garry, shaking hands with him and pounding him exuberantly on the back.“I told grandfather here,—yes, we call him that now,”—said Dick as he saw the look of wonder on Garry’s face. “I told him you would bring home the bacon.”“Well, I like that,” put in Ruth indignantly. “Are you insinuating that I’m fat, Mr. Dick? Bacon yourself!”Everyone laughed at Dick’s stuttering apologies, and then Garry demanded that they tell the story of their adventures since he left them.Phil and Dick in turn recited what they had done, their stories being constantly interrupted by exclamations from Aunt Abbie, who became more and more excited as the stories were told, even though she knew what had transpired during the preceding hours.“And, so we decided not to wait for you to come back,” said Phil, as he took up the concluding events. “We went and got the sheriff and brought him to the postoffice, where we laid the whole matter before him. He didn’t want to take any steps at first, because he could not conceive of a U. S. officer not being straight. Then Mr. Arthur, the bank president, came in, and Denton called him in and asked his advice. He took our side immediately, and told the sheriff to go ahead and get Simmons. I wouldn’t say for sure, but I guess that Arthur has a lot of political influence in the county. At any rate, the sheriff went ahead on his say so, and came back with Simmons. There the whole thing was put up to him, and say, you should have heard him explode. He threatened everyone with all kinds of things,—said he’d have the whole postoffice department here, and hollered about country sheriffs interfering with Federal officers and all that sort of stuff. And the more he hollered, the madder the sheriff got at being called a ‘hick,’ until if Simmons, calling him that for want of a better name, had proven his innocence then and there, I don’t believe the sheriff would have let him go without an order from the President.“Finally Dick came to bat with an idea that was seized by all hands as the only sensible thing to do. He suggested that Denton send a telegram to the postal authorities at Washington with a description of the man and asking if it checked up. The masquerader shut up like a clam then. The sheriff wrote out his description and Denton sent the wire. About two hours later he got an answer saying that no man in the postal service with the name of Simmons answered that description, and ordered him held pending an investigation. My guess now is that there’s another inspector hot footing it here from Washington about this time.”“Good land of liberty. Will you people come in and eat? That dinner must be stone cold by now,” said anxious Aunt Abbie.“I’d rather get a look at this chap before I eat,” said Simmons. “I want to know who’s been using my name and papers that were taken away from me when I was captured.”“Well, if that’s all you want, go in and eat till I run upstairs. I have his picture up there,” said Dick.The party marched into the dining room, and in a moment or two Dick was back with the group picture he had taken the first day they arrived.“There’s your man there,” said Dick, pointing out the impostor.“Yes, I’m right,” said the inspector, after a hasty scrutiny. “His name is Sullivan and he’s been discharged from the service for some little time now. I’ll go down and rescue my badge and papers after awhile.”Dinner was a merry affair, since it was in the nature of a re-union.“Now,” said Aunt Abbie, when all had finished, “I’ll get that big dog of yours something to eat. I’ve had to keep him down in the cellar while you boys were out, else he’d have chased himself to death all over town looking for you.”“I’ll take it to him,” volunteered Garry. He had no sooner opened the cellar door than Sandy leaped on him with a bark of delight, and the two friends, boy and dog, had almost a rough and tumble.There was little to do for the real Simmons. He held a conference with Denton, and then proceeded to the lock-up, where Sullivan was waiting before being taken to the county jail.Here he succeeded in getting a full confession from the impostor, who saw that since he had been caught, there was nothing to be gained by concealing anything. Knowing what he did of the service, he knew that the authorities would work relentlessly until they had searched out every fact and pinned it on him.Simmons then wired an account of the affair briefly to his superior, stating also that complete report would be mailed. He prepared this report and then allowed the boys to read it.They protested when they finished it, for it was largely a glowing account of their ability and bravery in doing the work they had done. Simmons, however, silenced their protests by stating that whatever they thought, that was his idea, and that was the way that the report was going.But one thing did Sullivan refuse to tell, and that was the writer of the threatening letters. Simmons caused fingerprints to be taken of all the captives, and though not pretending to be an expert, knew enough of the science to be able to declare that none of them compared with the print on the letter.It happened that Dick’s photography stood in good stead at this time, for Sullivan had destroyed the originals, and but for the photographs, there would have been no evidence.“I take that to mean only one thing,” declared Garry. “There is no one left on whom suspicion could rest except Jean LeBlanc, and when LeBlanc is caught, I am sure you’ll find that is his fingerprint. It is probable that Sullivan knows that LeBlanc is still free, and thinks that by keeping silent he may aid his confederate in crime to some degree. Now we seem to have this gang pretty well rounded up. Only Jean and Baptiste are at large, and I’m hoping that they will soon be under lock and key. That pair are not fit to be free and are a menace to any community where they may be located.”Later on in the afternoon, as they sat about relaxing after their strenuous adventures, the ’phone rang and Aunt Abbie said that Dick was wanted. He came back a few moments later and remarked:“Cut down that list of our enemies to one. The sheriff says he sent out word to all the authorities in the county last night, and one caught Baptiste this morning at the railroad station. Wonder if there isn’t some way we can get Jean? That would sure be a complete round-up then.”“I don’t know what we can do,” said Garry. “Only thing to do is to be vigilant every moment and wait for him to try some trick, as he undoubtedly will. Then we can muster a posse if necessary and run him down. He’s such a slippery customer, though, and seems to find out what’s going on so quickly, that now his whole gang is arrested, he’ll probably seek safety for a time in hiding.”“I’m not so sure about that,” said Phil. “I’ve got a strong hunch that he’ll be coming after our scalps pretty soon. We’ve been lucky enough so far to thwart him in every nefarious move that he has made.”“Well, time alone will tell that,” said Garry. As he spoke, there came a knock at the door, and the boys nearly fell off their chairs when they heard Aunt Abbie say in the high-pitched voice that she used when excited:“Well, great land o’ Goshen. Nate Webster! I haven’t seen you for years!”CHAPTER XIIIDICK’S FOREST STUNT“Do you suppose that’s our Nate Webster?” inquired Garry.“Quickest way to find out is to go and see,” answered Dick, and suiting the word to the action started for the front hall.It was the Nate Webster they knew, and he greeted the boys heartily.“How do you happen to be in this part of the state, Nate?” asked Garry.“Why, I thought I’d like to see some of my old friends up this way, and I found out from your father where you were, so I just put a man in charge of my place for a while and came up. We’re going to get a couple of good rainy days and that will stop any chance of fire for a time. In fact it was lowering this morning when I started. You know I used to be around here a spell of years ago, and this is a bit of a vacation for me.”The story of their adventures and those in particular that related to the doings of LeBlanc were retailed for Nate, and at the conclusion he asked what they were going to do.“I thought perhaps we’d wait for orders from the Chief Ranger, and in the meantime just take it easy for a day or two,” answered Garry.“Might just as well, at least till the rainy days are over,” agreed Nate.They took a walk during the afternoon and met some of Nate’s old friends, enjoying the reminiscences that were started when old cronies of the guide got to talking old times with him. They brought Nate back to supper with them, and Garry found a letter waiting for him.He read the letter over, and then called his chums together.“This letter is going to cause rather a change in our plans. From what I gather, my mother and yours, Phil, are rather worried; and, furthermore, Mother wants us to have a short vacation at the beach with her before we go to school. Dad suggests that we stay here a week or two, if we want, and have a little fishing and swimming and so on, without feeling that there is any work to do and halt us from just enjoying ourselves.”“Say, why wouldn’t this be a good time to go and visit the mine, and see if after all it is really a good one, or was just a vain hope,” said Phil.“You know, I hope that there are some real tourmalines there, for they are valuable things. You know the last time that we were in Bangor, when I slid out for awhile and you wondered where I was. I was at the library, reading up on the stones. I find that they are valuable for more than gems; something I didn’t know before. They are used a great deal in delicate electrical instruments, as they are responsive to electricity and are used to measure the intensity of radium emanations. Then they are used by oculists to test lenses with. The finest specimens are the ones that are used for gems, after being cut, and the others are used in the electrical apparatus. You know, I’d give most anything if we could make some money out of the mine,” he concluded wistfully.Garry was about to answer, when he caught a significant expression on Dick’s face. He did not know what it was all about, but took it as an indication that he should keep silent.Soon after that Nate engaged Phil in conversation, and perceiving this, Dick left the room, motioning Garry to follow. They left the house and walked down the street, and as soon as they were out of hearing, Garry asked:“What kind of a high sign were you trying to give me, Dick?”“Garry, if it’s the last thing we ever do, we’re going to start for that mine right away. I see the whole idea in the back of Phil’s head.”“I don’t get your meaning yet,” responded Garry in a puzzled tone.“Dunderhead! It’s as simple as the nose on your face. First thing that started him off was your reference to our going away to school. You know Phil hasn’t said a word about it to either of us since the day we first mentioned it, except to refuse Dad Boone’s offer to stake him through and let him pay it up later on. But you can bet you that he’s thought about it a lot. Now he has built up a lot of hope on making money out of this mine. If it is anywhere near successful, he could easily afford then to go to school with us. Now does the idea percolate through that thick skull of yours?”“Thick is right, Dick,” admitted Garry, as he rapped the offending skull with his knuckles. “We’ll outfit up and start tomorrow. In the meantime I’ll write Dad and explain matters to him, and get him to secure our release from the State Forest Ranger at Augusta. I think perhaps we’ve been of enough service so that we can be let off. Anyway, we would have to be released to carry out Dad’s wishes about our vacation with Mother.”They returned to the house and there broke the news to Phil.The boy said nothing, but the chums could tell from the look on his face that the news was the most welcome he had heard that summer. Both Garry and Dick tactfully forebore to intimate that they had discovered Phil’s secret, and stated that they were off to the mine solely because it was a lark, and would be an interesting conclusion to their summer.“There’s one thing, however. Once we start operations at the mine, it will mean that the news will spread about and as soon as we leave we will have to hire a guard to take care of it for us, or perhaps someone to work it until we have exhausted the mine.”“I have a bright idea,” exclaimed Phil.“All right, little brightness, shoot it,” said Garry laughing.“We’ll just hire Nate Webster here; or better than that, I propose that we give him a share in the mine, and let him get a couple of trustworthy friends of his to help him, and he can operate it after we leave.”“That’s a first class suggestion, Phil. What do you say to it, Nate?” asked Garry, turning to the old timer.The question struck Nate rather by surprise, and he made them tell him some more details of the mine. When these had been furnished him, he answered:“Well, I’d be willing to take a chance at it. I’ve done a little of everything but mining, and so I can try that once. But I won’t take any share in the mine. If you boys want to hire me at day wages, all right; but the mine’s yours, and I don’t feel that I should take a share when I’ve done nothin’ towards findin’ it.”“That suits us all right, Nate, if it does you; for we are not sure that it will pan out. If we were sure it was O. K. I’d insist on giving you a share, for you’ve helped us wonderfully mainy times this summer.”Some discussion ensued after this, and it was finally terminated by Nate’s reluctantly agreeing to take a share in the mine. He insisted, however, that if they went on this basis, he must be permitted to share and share alike in all expenses and take his chance of luck along with the boys. After some talk this was agreed to, and the boys wrote out a business-like memorandum, making Nate a partner in the venture.Plans were then made for the outfitting. It was decided that since all were anxious to get at the business of mining, it would be a waste of time to build a shack, and the weather might not continue fine enough to use only a brush house. So a tent was to be purchased. They found that Denton had a large wall tent among his numerous articles in the general store.There was little to be bought except necessary provisions, and these could be secured at Chester. The essential thing to be purchased was dynamite, and this too they found at Denton’s. It was something that he had occasion to sell often to the farmers, who used it to blow up stumps on the land that was gradually being cleared and used for farming.Bright and early next morning they started for their mine. An auto was hired to carry them, and on account of the dynamite the long way around was taken.“If we ever hit one of those bumps the way we did coming from Chester with Ruth and Simmons, we’d wake up in another world,” declared Garry. Goodbyes were said, and arrangements made for Ruth and her grandfather, together with Aunt Abbie to visit them and see the mine in operation.They reached the mine about noon, and a camp site was selected about a hundred yards from the stony face where the tourmalines, if there were any really there, lay hidden. This spot was chosen because of the proximity of a forest stream; that would at once provide them with clear cold water, and a chance for a bit of trout fishing now and then.Camping meant outdoor cooking again, and so Dick’s first thought was for the building of a proper stone camp fireplace.Also he dug a hole, for they had brought shovels with them to use in the mining, and prepared a “beanhole” to use the next day. Practically all the afternoon was taken in making camp, and a visit was paid to the ledge and tomorrow’s operations were planned.Phil was made “engineer in charge,” for his hours at the library had told him nearly all there was to know about the mining of tourmalines. As they sat around the campfire after supper, Phil explained the process.“It shouldn’t really be called mining; it’s almost too simple an operation for that. Tourmalines are generally found in pockets in crumbling places in a ledge of rock, or are often found in the sandy subsoil. No instance in this country has been known where they were found at a greater depth than eight feet. Also there is little or no way of determining where there is a geological likelihood of their being located, as in the case of oil, when a geologist can tell whether the formation is that which denotes the presence of oil. Lepidolite, followed by smoky quartz and feldspar is a pretty good indication, however, of their presence.”“I suggest that we take and dig a bit along the front of that ledge and perhaps find some pockets. Then after we have tried that for awhile, we can pick out likely spots in the face of the ledge which indicate that it is crumbling there, and by using very small charges of dynamite break it away and screen or wash the contents of the pockets until we find our tourmalines.”Phil never gave thought to a chance of failure. They had found one tourmaline there, and the old map that had guided them to the spot had hinted at riches. Also the faith of the first owner of the map had transferred itself to Phil.Work started in earnest the next morning, and the four of them, the three chums and Nate, shoveled away until their hands were blistered. It was not until the fourth day that they were rewarded.Nate was the one to whom the honor of finding the first pocket was given. He gave a shout and the chums ran to his side.“I swan, but thar she is,” and he pointed with his shovel to a half a dozen glinting objects that sparkled in the sunlight.All four dropped on their knees and investigated. They gathered up handfuls of the earth and sifted it through their fingers. Nearly twenty specimens were obtained, while their excitement was unbounded. Pale pink and green were the different stones. Four in particular were beauties, being a pale green, translucent and sparkling. These were the ones that could be laid aside to be disposed of as gems for rings or pins.The next step was to start a more scientific way of getting at the gems. To this end, Dick and Phil were set to bring pails of water, while Garry and Nate procured flat tin pans that had been provided for the purpose. The method used was that which is used in placer gold mining. A quantity of the dirt was scooped up, and water poured in. Then the pan was gently tilted back and forth; “rocking” it is called by the miners, and the dirt gradually was washed away, leaving the pebbles and gems in the bottom of the pan. Then it was an easy matter to pick from the pebbles the real gems. Sometimes they would pan a dozen times before they would pan a gem, and then they would be lucky and pick a half dozen, sometimes half a score of the glinting mineral.The kind that could be sold for gems were a rarity, but the specimens were all good and could be used for commercial purposes.After two days of panning they apparently exhausted this particular pocket, and considered moving a few feet and trying again.Phil suggested that since they had found gems in this particular spot, they blast away a small section from the ledge. He pointed out the fact that there was a fissure at one spot, and this might be the place where a pocket was concealed in the stone.As it was nearly nightfall, they decided to postpone the blasting until the morning.Around the campfire, after supper, they chatted and listened while Nate told stories of the forest. One of Nate’s stories was about the search that he had once led for a camper that had gotten lost in the forest, and how he had been found just in time to prevent death from starvation and exposure. This led to a discussion on the part of the boys as to the foolishness of campers in straying so far away from their party as to become lost.“It’s a crazy thing for one unused to the woods to do,” declared Dick. “And yet it seems such a simple thing to do to keep from starving in the woods. I know I wouldn’t suffer.”“That’s a pretty broad statement to make, young fellow,” warned Nate.“I know I could do it,” persisted Dick. “First place I’ve learned a lot of things from practical experience since I’ve been in the woods, and second place, ever since I was a kid and in the Boy Scouts, I’ve studied about it.”“You might make it for a couple of days, but that’s a long time unless you’re used to the woods and know them end for end and backwards and forwards,” said Nate.“Could live a week easy, and if I could live that long, will you concede that I’d spend a summer safely and without starving?” asked Dick.“Don’t believe you could,” said Nate.“Say, listen, I’ll wager anything I’ve got that I can do it, and by gosh, I’m going to do it anyway, whether you fellows take me up or not,” he announced stubbornly.They ragged him for awhile and then saw that he was in dead earnest about the matter. From that point the talk developed into whether or not the trick could be turned, and finally they agreed to let Dick try if he wanted to. To make it a fair test, however, they made him agree that if twenty-four hours passed without his being able to get a meal in the woods, that he would come out and admit it was a failure.“All right, that’s a go. Now what will you allow me to have?” inquired Dick.“Nothing at all; you’ve got to use Nature’s weapons all the time,” promptly answered Phil.“No, that’s hardly fair,” protested Nate. “The average camper that got lost would have his knife, and he’d likely have a hatchet stuck in his belt. ’Tain’t likely, though, that he’d have any food with him; and if he were only out for a short stroll, and got twisted in direction, and then lost, he wouldn’t have his gun with him. Suppose we put it this way: You’re in the woods lost, and through an accident you lost your pack and rifle. That leaves you just as I’ve seen you three or four times. You’d have your hatchet and your lariat and that’s all. We’ll even make it easier than that. You can go in as you are now. I don’t know what you have in your pockets, so we’ll let you have that much. You can’t have your matches, though. Say you fell out of a canoe when you lost your pack and rifle, and wet your matches so they are useless. That makes it harder.”All agreed that this was a fair proposal, and Dick planned to start the next morning. He determined to take to the Forest Reserve, first because he wanted to see it, and second because that seemed to offer the best place to try the experiment. Dick agreed to blaze a trail from where he started so that in case of accident he could be followed.Next morning all went with him to the river to see him off, and Garry paddled him across the river, using a canoe that he hired from a youngster who was passing that way. They agreed that one of the boys should come to the river at noon and at six o’clock every day to see if he would be back, having concluded the experiment was a failure.Dick fell into the spirit of his own adventure, and walked half a day into the forest, blazing a trail as he went, and occasionally leaving some of the usual trail signs and messages such as all scouts and woodmen know. Then he pretended that he was lost and started in to make plans for his living. He cast about until he found a brook and set at his first plan.The first thing was a fire, and he had no matches. That meant using the Indian method of firemaking. The plan that he was to have anything that was in his pockets the night before stood him in good stead, for along with a few minor articles was a stout piece of cord.He procured some dry moss and tindery substance and made a little heap of it. Then he found a piece of dry bark, and inserted this in the tinder after having made a small hole with the point of his knife. Next he procured a dry stick and sharpened this at both ends. Now all he would have to do was insert the point into the hole in the bark, and twist it briskly between his palms until it started the blaze. This process, however, takes quite a bit of time, owing to the fact that a great speed cannot be attained, hence there is less friction, and so the tinder will not ignite quickly.There was a way that this could be done quicker and easier. He found a flat piece of wood and bored a small hole in that. Then he searched until he found a crooked stick, and tied his cord loosely at each end. Making a loop in the cord, he slipped it over the stick with the pointed ends. Now all that needed to be done was to put one end in the tinder, and cap the other end with the piece of wood. Holding this bit of wood in one hand, and the “bow” in the other, he sawed back and forth, the string causing the stick to revolve back and forth with great rapidity.In a very few minutes he had his fire going briskly. Now the next question was something to eat. He heard a slight splash in the stream near him, and thought at once of trout.How to catch them was the next question. That was soon solved.What boy does not have a pin or two sticking somewhere in his clothes—generally in his coat lapel. Dick found one, and after some trouble, succeeded in turning the point back about a sixteenth of an inch. This corresponded to the barb of a fish hook. Bending the rest of the pin into a hook was simple.Now for a line. His cord that he used in the fire making was too heavy, and not long enough. However, Dick soon remedied the lack. He fished out the tail of his cotton khaki shirt, and after a few minutes’ work with the point of his knife, succeeded in drawing out a few of the strong threads. Knotting these together, he had a line.Bait was now the only thing needed, and a few seconds’ search under the rocks along the shore of the brook uncovered several slugs such as cling to the wet bottom of rocks. Baiting his hook, he threw it in, and in a few minutes had a fine trout. Of course this kind of fishing was crude. Instead of delicately playing the trout, he simply snapped the line back, and landed the fish on the shore in back of him. He cleaned the fish with his knife, stuck it on the end of a stick and roasted it. There was one dinner, he thought.A drink from the stream completed the meal. Not a heavy one, but still it would have kept starvation away had he been really lost. He spent the afternoon in exploring, and in the course of his wandering, always taking care to notice his trail so that he could get back to the stream and his campfire, he came upon a moist bit of ground.Dick spied something that meant an addition to his supper.He bent closer to examine the find. It consisted of mushrooms. He was familiar with the various kinds of poisonous and edible fungi, and an examination of the pink gills and shape of the mushroom convinced him these were all right to eat. Beyond the swampy place was a clump of birches, and here he supplied himself with a quantity of bark.This would come in handy at a later time to make receptacles of. Dick gathered a quantity of the mushrooms, and returned to his campfire. Now he determined to try an experiment of which he was somewhat skeptical. He had read of the Indians doing it, and so set to work to try it.He piled on wood until he had a good heap of coals, then made a cone of birch bark, fastening it by sticking a twig through at intervals. Filling this with water, he imbedded the cone in the coals, and threw in some of his mushrooms.The theory of the bark kettle is that the water will keep the bark wet enough at all times so that the coals will not quite burn through. It cannot be lifted from the coals; the water or stuff that is cooking must be dipped out. Eventually the bark will be consumed, but not before the water or food has been heated sufficiently to use.Dick had to admit that he was surprised when he found that the contrivance worked, for he had doubted whether or not it would be a success. Having cooked his mushrooms, he sought the rocks again for bait for a fish, and made another discovery. Under some of the biggest rocks were crawfish. He knew that these could be roasted and eaten.These, however, would do for another day. Then there were roots and berries of various kinds that could be used as sustenance. Altogether there was a quantity of foodstuff that he could use.He rolled in that night close to the fire, satisfied that he would live the week out in comfort and have the laugh on his friends.Next morning, after another breakfast of fish and mushrooms, he determined to push up the stream and seek out a new camp place. After a walk that took him nearly half the morning, he branched away from the stream and lay down for a rest. Here he made a discovery that set him thinking. The find was nothing more nor less than a few feathers. He knew after a brief examination that these were from wild turkeys who probably roosted in the trees during the night. The finding of the feathers convinced him that this was perhaps a natural roost for the birds.After an afternoon of exploration, during which he found some wild raspberries, he came back to the turkey roost spot as he called it. He found he was right in his first conjecture. There were several turkeys roosting on some of the lower branches. Dick procured several good-sized rocks and hurled them at the birds. Two good shots each brought down a turkey, partially stunned. It was the work of a minute to wring their necks.He cleaned them and roasted them in the coals, and after eating what he wanted, wrapped the cooked flesh in bark and put it by for the next day.The third morning found him exuberant and cheerful, and he decided to take a long trek in the woods. Twice during the morning he found signs that the mounted Rangers had passed that way, and figured that he was in the line of patrol. He did not want to meet the Rangers so early, as he wanted to subsist entirely on his own discoveries. The afternoon brought him to the foot of a good-sized hill, almost a young mountain.He noted the location of a spring for use that night, and decided to utilize the remaining hours of light in climbing up the big hill to get a look at the surrounding country.The climb consumed a good hour of hard work, and he had almost reached the top when he found that he was looking at a cabin. It was perched near the edge of a cliff, and looking out, he figured that there must be a sheer drop of perhaps a hundred feet or more.At first Dick thought this was the lookout of a Ranger, and entered. There were no maps, however, nor anything else to indicate that the cabin was a lookout. Someone had built a fire recently there, though, and he looked about the cabin. There was a crude cupboard at one end, and in this he found several packages of food.Dick had some loose change in his pocket, and he was debating on whether a lost man would have the right to take some and leave the money in return.As he pondered over the ethics of this, he heard something that caused a flutter of excitement.Someone was nearing the cabin. This in itself would have caused him no great concern, except that whoever was coming was singing softly to himself an old French chanson.Dick darted to the cabin door, and there, facing him, stood the last person in the world that he wanted to see—Jean LeBlanc.
The final reason for believing this to be the proper trail lay in the fact that it was less brushy and thick along the bank of the brook, making it easier walking. Garry walked along for some distance, keeping his eyes glued to the ground in the hope of finding “sign” of some sort to show that his quarry had passed that way.
With a muffled exclamation he bent to the ground and picked up—another button.
Carefully comparing it with the other, he found them to be exactly alike. Then it dawned on him that Ruth in some manner must have been able to detach them from her clothing and was dropping them for the purpose of leaving a trail behind her.
Garry wondered if the locket might not also have been purposely dropped with the same idea in view. The discovery made him hasten his steps, and he fairly tore off yard after yard. The walking was none too easy, for it was not the soft flooring of the forest such as he had patrolled on his father’s land. Here the way was rough and uneven, and as he walked he noted that the grade tended to rise, and thought it would shortly get into hilly country.
Sometime later he found a third, and then a fourth button. After that he found no more. Each time that he had made a discovery, he had marked the spot carefully and made short detours from the path, to see if at any time the party had turned off.
This had naturally taken a great deal of precious time, and peering up into the sky through the branches of the trees, he discovered that he could not see the sun, and judged that it must be at least five in the afternoon.
Garry had gone nearly two miles after finding the last button, and since he could find no more, wondered if he had lost the trail. By the time he stopped to consider this, he found he was at the beginning of a sharp rise in the ground, and figured that he was at the foot of a hill. A few minutes’ hard walking convinced him of the truth of this thought, and he came to what was evidently the top of a high knoll or hill.
There was one thing left to do, and that was to climb a tree and sweep the surrounding country through his glasses in the hope of finding a clue. The brook which he had been following stopped at a spring almost at the top of the little hill. This spring naturally was the source of the brook, which likely ended in the Penocton River.
He selected the highest tree he could find, and since the branches did not begin for some feet from the ground, had recourse to the method he and his chums used.
This consisted of taking a long piece of cord, or better still a stout wire, and circling it around his person and the tree. By alternately lifting this and bracing his heels against the tree, he was able to edge himself up inch by inch till he could reach one of the branches.
From then on climbing was a simple matter. He reached the top of the tree, going as high as he dared before it would bend with his weight. He had shown wisdom in picking the particular tree he had, for it towered above its fellows for several feet.
Garry found he had a good view of the country around him. He was surprised to note that he had made a considerable climb without noticing how great it was, for although he was conscious while walking that he was on rising ground, he had no idea that the gradient was so steep. To one side he could see a little depression, and then a sharp rise that led to a series of ever mounting hills.
At another point there was a depression as though some ravine existed there. He watched this spot fixedly for some minutes, for the sun was just dropping over the horizon, and the vicinity was not perfectly visible. Then he gave a sharp exclamation. Rising from the ravine, or depression, or whatever it was, was a thin spiral of smoke, that grew a little thicker after he had watched it for some moments.
He fished in his pocket and drew out his compass, noted the exact point from which the smoke seemed to come, and then made haste to descend the tree, scratching his hands in his hurry to get to the bottom.
He got to the ground by “bending” one of the limbs. This is a simple matter, as nearly every boy knows. It consists of crawling out on one of the branches until the weight of the body begins to pull it toward the earth. The farther one goes the nearer the earth comes to the limb, until one can drop off and let the limb fly back to its original position.
Calculating the direction by referring to the compass, he set off in the direction of the place from which he had seen the smoke emanating.
While in the treetop he had estimated that it must lay almost a mile away, and the going was hard. The brush was tangled and thick, and the ground rocky. Where there were scattered rocks, the roots of the trees projected as though coming in search of nourishment that was denied them in the rocky soil.
Here and there he noted places where the brush had evidently been torn away to allow some one to pass through.
After almost an hour of tiresome toil, he approached a little clearing, and then became exceedingly cautious and wary. He could see that there was a slight ravine there, with an entrance between two great rocks.
Creeping to this entrance he peered in, and saw that a crude shack had been erected at one end. He must approach the shack without knowing who was in it, or how many might be there. He divested himself of his knapsack, sticking it in back of a pile of brush, so that should anyone approach, they would not be warned of the presence of a stranger.
Then with his rifle grasped firmly in his hand, he walked slowly and noiselessly to the door of the shack. He half expected to be challenged by LeBlanc before he could reach the door.
No one halted his approach, however, and he came up to the door. It was half ajar, and holding his rifle so that he could instantly cover anyone, he threw open the door.
There he saw a sight that made his heart leap.
In one corner of the shack was Ruth, tied hand and foot, and a dirty rag stuffed in her mouth for a gag. In addition to the bonds on her wrists and ankles, she was tied to a projecting log.
He ran over to the girl, whipping his knife from his pocket as he did so.
It was the work of a moment only to cut the bonds that tied her and release the gag from her mouth. Ruth let him free her, and then stood erect for a moment, and being only a girl, dropped over in a dead faint.
The inside of the cabin was nearly dark, and he was searching about wildly to see if there was any water within, when he heard a muffled groan from another corner.
Garry ran to the corner and was astonished to see that a man, tied and gagged in the same manner that Ruth had been, was lying there.
The boy hesitated for a moment before releasing him, and then reflected that he could not be inimical since such drastic measures had been taken to render him helpless.
His indecision was only momentary, and then with a few swift strokes of his knife, he freed the man.
The stranger rose weakly to his feet, and for a moment could not be understood. Garry thought that he must have been gagged for some little time, as his thick speech indicated that his tongue was probably swollen.
“Guess you came just about in time,” he finally managed to utter.
“From the looks of things here you’re right,” answered Garry. “But who are you?”
Then came the astonishing answer:
“Name’s Simmons. I’m a United States postal inspector!”
“You’re who?” asked Garry, so astonished that he almost stuttered.
“Simmons, I told you; but first, have you any water?”
Garry had been so flustered by Ruth’s fainting that he had forgotten his canteen, which lay outside with his knapsack. He dashed out of the shack and in a moment returned with it.
He gave the man a little, cautioning him to be careful and not drink too much. The man realized the sense of this, and drank sparingly.
The boy then turned his attention to Ruth, and after spattering some of the water on her face, forced a small quantity of it between her lips, and then fell to chafing her and hands and wrists. In a few moments the color returned to her face and she opened her eyes.
She cast a frightened glance around, and then seeing that Garry was standing over her, laughed weakly.
“Guess that’s the first time I ever fainted in my life. Oh, I’m so glad to see you, but I kept up hope all the time that you and the boys would come. Are they with you?”
“No, I’m here alone; but that doesn’t matter as long as you’re safe and sound. Just tell me one thing. Who brought you here?”
“It was Jean LeBlanc,” answered Ruth.
“I was pretty sure it was,” said Garry, “I just wanted corroboration.”
The man who called himself Simmons was stirring around, easing his cramped muscles and restoring the circulation to his arms and legs.
Now he approached Garry and said:
“Look, young chap, have you anything to eat with you? I haven’t had a bite since yesterday noon, and neither has this girl here.”
“Yes, I’ve plenty. Just wait until I get my knapsack outside.” And Garry was about to get it, when he was interrupted by Ruth.
“I’m hungry, too; but you aren’t going to stay in this dreadful place another minute, are you? Can’t we get away from her right now?”
“Guess that would be the wisest course, Miss,” said the man. “But I’m pretty weak, and you must be also. We couldn’t do much unless we had something to fortify ourselves with. We must be a good many miles away from civilization.”
“Yes, we’re about eight or nine miles all told from the river, and it’s getting too dark to go wandering back through the woods,” answered Garry. Then as an afterthought he asked:
“Can you handle a gun, Mr. Simmons? I’m calling you Simmons because you say that’s your name; but later on I’m going to ask a lot of questions.”
“You bet I can,” was the quick response, “and the first time I see that snaky Frenchman I’m going to handle one if it’s handy.”
“Well, there’s seemingly only one plausible entrance to this place, and that’s by the mouth of this ravine. You take the rifle and stand guard there, and I’ll get some supper. After that we can decide on the next move. From the mouth of this ravine here you could pick off a half a dozen men should they approach, and so we’ll be safe enough.”
This being settled, Garry went out, to return a few moments later with his knapsack.
“Do you know if there’s any water anywhere around here?”
“Why, the old Indian woman used to be gone only a few moments and she’d come back with some in that old tin pail there,” answered Simmons.
“The old who? But never mind; questions can wait for a while,” and Garry took the pail and went out. He found that there was a spring outside the entrance. He filled his pail and hastened back to the shack.
In a little while he had coffee, bacon and spider bread cooking in the crude fireplace. A great log had been thrown on that morning, he found, and it was this that burned and smouldered through the day, making the smoke that guided him to his destination.
Simmons kept watch while Garry prepared the supper, and then Garry took his turn at watching while the others ate. In turn he was relieved by Simmons and made his own supper.
The meal over, they gathered at the mouth of the ravine, and discussed the situation. First Garry asked for an account of what had happened.
Simmons told his story.
“As I told you, my name is Simmons, and I’m a postal inspector. I was detailed from Washington several days ago to go to Hobart to investigate alleged irregularities in the mail there, and reached the town by nightfall. I got my supper at a restaurant there, kept by a French chap, and was taking a walk around just to get the lay of the land.
“I walked out of the town just a ways, and next thing I knew, I was set on by three men, and though I fought as best I could, I was overpowered. They hustled me to a farm not very far from the town, and kept me there for a couple of days. Then one night I was bundled into an automobile and carried some miles.
“When the auto left me, my captor made me march at the point of a gun to the bank of a river. My hands were tied behind me, and I could make no break for liberty. It was night, and there was never a person to be seen. The chap who was leading me, a big, burly, black-haired Frenchman, tripped me up when I got to the river bank and proceeded to tie my feet and gag me. Then he disappeared and came back after a while, and picked me up as though I were a child—I’m not a very hefty person anyway—and carried me to a canoe on the water’s edge.
“He paddled over the river. I’m going to call this chap LeBlanc. Isn’t that what you said his name was, Miss? The same one that brought you was the one that guided me here.”
“Yes, that was LeBlanc,” said Ruth.
“Well, to make a long story short, I was brought here and kept tied hand and foot. There was an old Indian man and woman here, and they guarded me. When they fed me, one hand would be untied, and the old man kept me covered with a rifle. I’ve worn my wrists raw trying to work out of my bonds, but never with any success.
“Then yesterday afternoon the Indian went away, and about two hours later this LeBlanc arrived here with the girl. She was tied up, and the old woman was given some instructions in French. I don’t speak the language, so I don’t know what it was all about.”
“He told her to wait until morning and then go back home,” put in Ruth. “I can understand French enough to know what he was talking about.”
“Well, the woman went this morning after cooking her breakfast and eating it in front of us without even giving us a bite, and that’s all there is. Nothing happened until you came here and saved us from what was probably certain death, for I believe it was meant that we should be left here to starve to death.”
Simmons concluded his story, and then Garry asked Ruth to add hers.
“I don’t want to tell you, because I know now what a silly, foolish girl I was to do what I did; but I suppose you will find out eventually, so I might as well own up. I wanted to do something to help you boys find what you were after, and when I heard Lafe Green had come back to town, I felt sure he was mixed up in this. I remembered how you boys had gotten your information the time you got the smugglers. So I went over to the Crombie’s to see my girl friend, and made up my mind that when I left there I would go out to Green’s and go through the secret passage and discover what I could. I wanted to find some clue to show you boys that a girl could do things too, and everything would have been all right but for a sneeze. I got into the kitchen all right, and was going to go upstairs, as I remembered your telling about doing, and just as I got to the middle of the floor I sneezed.
“I knew that everything was all off then, and started to run for the back door, for I didn’t want them to know I had come through the passage, when Green and LeBlanc rushed out into the kitchen and caught me.”
Ruth stopped and shuddered.
“Then they tried to make me tell them why I came and how I got in, and LeBlanc twisted my arm till I thought he would break it, but I shut my teeth and wouldn’t say anything.
“Finally they locked me in a closet, and a little while later put a nasty old cloth in my mouth and brought me by automobile the same way they did Mr. Simmons. It was LeBlanc’s brother who came with him, and they hid in the woods with the machine while Jean went away. He came back with his arms full of bundles, and they put a pistol so it stuck in my ribs and warned me to make no sound and marched me to the canoe. When they got me in, I was tied up and then Baptiste went away and Jean brought me across the river and here.”
“How about the buttons and the locket that I found?” asked Garry.
“Why, I didn’t know about the locket for quite a few minutes after I lost it. It must have been while we were eating. We stopped and LeBlanc built a fire and cooked some food. Just as soon as I missed the locket I thought that someone might find it, and so I thought then about leaving other things behind. The only thing I could get at were those buttons, and there were only four of those on the side of my dress. I put them there for a little ornament, and when I did it I never thought that they would lead you to me. There, don’t you think I was very foolish?”
“Yes, I think you were,” said Garry with a laugh.
“That isn’t the right answer at all,” she pouted. “You should have said I wasn’t.”
“You should be mighty thankful that this young man had brains enough to find us, young lady,” said Simmons sternly. “By the way, there are two questions I should like to ask you, young man. First, how did you find us?”
Garry explained about the visit they had made to Lafe Green’s and the confession they had obtained from the tramp.
“The rest was just a hunch, and it turned out to be a lucky one,” concluded Garry.
“That’s all right, then. Now what made you look so funny when I told you my name, and what made you appear to doubt me?”
“Nothing very much, unless you can call it funny when I tell you that we have seen and talked with a man who says he is a United States postal inspector whose name is Simmons, and who is now at Hobart investigating the robberies.”
“What?” exploded the man. “Some one parading under my name?”
“Exactly,” answered Garry dryly. “One of the pair of you must be wrong.” Just then a thought struck Garry. “I guess you’re the right one, and something that puzzled me for a while has been explained.”
Garry had remembered the puzzling sentence that was broken off when the radio failed to work. What was it his chum had said? Yes, something about Simmons being arrested. Evidently the boys had detected the fraud—for fraud the man posing as Simmons must have been—and had him seized before he could do any more damage.
“Guess we’ll find the impostor safe in jail when we get back to Hobart,” he told the real Simmons. Then he related all that he knew of the supposed inspector, and concluded by giving him a description of the man.
“Why, I think I know who that is,” said Simmons excitedly. “That description fits perfectly a man named Sullivan, who was discharged from the service about a year ago. There was never anything proven on him, but circumstances surrounding certain actions of his were suspicious, and he was let go for the good of the service. In the post-office department, a man must be above even the breath of suspicion.”
“Well, we can’t tell what the outcome has been until we get back to Hobart,” said Garry. “Which reminds me, when are we going to start? I am afraid that we will have to stay here until morning. It would be a treacheorus job finding our way back through the woods, and besides I need some rest, and it is likely that you people do. You must be all cramped up from being tied the way you were. Now I suggest this: I have a blanket with me, and Ruth can have that and sleep in the cabin. And you can use our coats and sleep out here on some boughs that I will cut. If you go to sleep now, I will keep watch at the mouth of the ravine till about one o’clock. Then I will wake you and you do sentry till morning. When dawn comes, we will hike back to the river and get across. There we’ll telephone to Ruth’s grandfather and then get an auto to take us around the out of the way road that takes us to Hobart.”
This was accordingly agreed on, and soon Garry was alone with his thoughts. The minutes dragged into hours, and each snapping of the twigs or the fall of an occasional dry branch quickened Garry to the alert and prevented him from nodding, as he was fairly tired after his hike to the cabin in the ravine. It was about midnight, he thought, when he heard a crashing through the undergrowth, and he jumped to his feet. There was silence for a moment and then more noise.
Garry wondered whether it was one of the Indians or Le Blanc that was coming, and he gripped his rifle tensely, awaiting the approach of the intruder. For a time all was still, and he decided that it was some woods animal.
Some instinct must have warned him to look up to the edge of the ravine, and he saw a pair of eyes gleaming in the darkness. Just then a form launched itself from the overhanging rocks, straight toward him!
Garry waited not to discover what the flying shape might be. Raising his rifle to his shoulder he fired straight at the black mass, pumping the shots from his magazine as fast as he could work the mechanism.
He retreated hastily as he fired, and at the second shot heard a scream of pain, then there was a thud as some body struck the ground and writhed and clawed.
Garry fired two more shots at the screeching mass and then all was quiet and the struggling ceased. The sound of the shots had, of course, wakened Simmons, and he rushed forward to where Garry was standing.
“What is it? Are we attacked? Did you kill him?” The questions were shot out rapidly.
“Don’t know yet what it is, but if you wait a moment I’ll have a look,” said Garry.
Just then Ruth came hurrying out. She had snatched a burning stick from the fireplace and held this as a torch. It must be remembered that this entire occurrence took far less time than it takes to tell it.
Taking the flickering torch from the girl, Garry advanced to where the dark mass lay, and looked it over. The others crowded around him. It was a dark animal built something like a lioness, and as it lay stretched out looked to be almost seven feet long, measuring from tip of the nose to the tip of the tail.
“What is that, a lion?” asked Simmons.
“Why, yes, it is a specie of lion; I suppose you could call it that,” answered Garry. “It’s generally called a mountain lion; sometimes a panther, and by the natives a ‘painter.’ Its correct name is Puma. Say, he is sure a beauty, isn’t he? Good thing he gave warning of his approach and put me on guard, for if he had dropped on me from the edge of the cliff, he would have made mincemeat of me with those terrible fangs and sharp claws.”
“Are they generally to be feared?” asked Simmons.
“Of course they’re nothing you would want to take into your cabin and lay down beside,” answered Garry, “but as a rule they are not very courageous. This one must have been ravenously hungry to have even thought of attacking a human being. Generally they prey on deer in the forest, and if they summon up enough courage, will go on farm land and raise havoc among sheep and young cattle. This is such wild land here, that it had probably had nothing to eat for some time, hence its attempt to light on me. I wish there were more time and no element of danger around here, for I would like to skin it and take the pelt back with me as a souvenir of the night. Perhaps we can come here after we have taken Ruth home and get it.”
Garry had still an hour to stand on guard, and so Simmons went back to sleep. The boy was tired himself, and welcomed the coming of the hour when he was to be relieved.
At the appointed time, he roused Simmons and handed over the rifle.
“Don’t hesitate to shoot if there is anything suspicious, and that will wake me to come to your aid. However, I don’t think there is much chance of anyone coming at this time of the night.”
Garry was asleep almost as soon as he had touched the boughs, and knew nothing until he felt a hand shaking him. He looked up and saw that it was just getting light.
“Now for a quick breakfast,” he cried, leaping to his feet, “and then back to civilization and safety.”
The breakfast over, they hurriedly left the place.
“We won’t have to bid any tearful farewell to this place, will we Garry?” said Ruth.
All felt fresh and they made fine time in returning over the course they had come. Since there was no need for stopping and searching for trail, they covered the distance in much less time than it had taken Garry the previous day.
The worst of the going was the track from the cabin in the ravine to the brook, but from there the walking was comparatively easy. They had started about six o’clock and by half-past nine reached the point where Garry had discovered the campfire the day before.
“That reminds me,” said Garry to Ruth, “I haven’t given you back your locket yet. You should keep that as a prize, for it was the first clue that eventually led me to where you were imprisoned.”
“I shall keep it all my life,” declared the girl.
Simmons kept urging the others to hurry, for he wanted to get on the ground and see what had been done by the impostor who had paraded under his name. He did not seem to take much comfort in the statement of Garry that the false Simmons had been arrested, so Garry kept silence.
At the river bank, Garry bade the party wait while he looked at the place where the birch-bark canoe had been secreted.
The canoe was gone.
He hastened to the place where he had concealed his own craft, and was relieved to find that it was still there, safe and sound, just as he had left it.
He drew it from its hiding place and let it down into the water and paddled swiftly to where Simmons and Ruth were waiting. They embarked and then Garry pushed out into the river, plying his paddle with long, swift strokes, that fairly set the canoe dancing on the water.
“There,” murmured Ruth, as she sank back against one of the thwarts. “Now I feel really safe. I was afraid any minute that I would see the horrible face of LeBlanc and have him pounce on us out of the woods.”
“Twenty minutes more now and we’ll be in an auto, provided we can hire one, and speeding toward Hobart,” said Garry.
He was as good as his word, and soon the little party were at the hotel, where he arranged for the hiring of a flivver to carry them home. The hotel keeper evinced some surprise at the sight of the others, but Garry did not take the trouble to enlighten him.
“By the way,” said Garry, “do you happen to know of any boys around here that own a birch-bark canoe? I happened to damage one that I found on the other shore, and would like to leave my name in case you should hear about it.”
“Nobody in these parts owns a bark canoe,” declared the hotel man positively, “but I’ll take your name if you want me to.”
“It will take us almost as long to go by auto as it would to walk across through the woods,” said Garry, “for this is a mighty roundabout way; but it will be easier than walking, and I think we all have earned a little rest.”
“If you don’t mind a little bumping occasionally,” said the chauffeur, “I can get you to Hobart in about two hours; but it’s over a long stretch of road that is hardly more than a lane.”
The party was unanimously agreed on preferring the bumps to the extra time, and accordingly the driver changed his direction and took a course that led him to what seemed to be nothing more than an abandoned tote road.
The driver spoke the truth when he said it might be a little bumpy.
“Whew!” said Garry, as he was lifted almost a foot out of his seat and came back with a thud that jarred nearly every bone in his body. “I’m beginning to think that we are getting more than we bargained for.”
“I told you there were a few bumps,” said the driver, grinning.
“You’re right,” declared Simmons, “only it seems that we are missing the road altogether and just jumping from bump to bump.”
“Never mind,” consoled Ruth, as she hung on to the side of the tin chariot. “We are getting to Hobart all the quicker.”
Finally they struck decent road again, and the driver stepped on the gas and fairly made the car fly over the road.
When they reached the outskirts of the little village, Ruth directed them to Aunt Abbie’s house, and in a few moments she and her grandfather were clasped in each other’s arms. Good old Aunt Abbie was fluttering around, alternately patting Ruth on the shoulder and then Garry.
“Now we’ll have dinner right away,” she declared. “You people must be starved.”
Aunt Abbie’s idea of a panacea for all the human ills of the body was a “good meal.”
“Where are Dick and Phil?” asked Garry.
“Oh, they went traipsing off to the postoffice a few minutes ago,” said Aunt Abbie. “If you just ring up there on the ’phone you may find them there. They flustered all around the house this morning worrying about you, and then went out.”
Garry manipulated the telephone, for as in most small villages, the telephones are old style and one has to turn a crank or generator to call central.
Denton himself answered the ’phone. He was mighty pleased to hear Garry’s voice and expressed himself as “being plumb tickled to death to talk with him.”
“Yes, your friends are here, and some time they’ve been having while you were gone. Want to talk to one of them, or shall I tell ’em to hike over to Aunt Abbie’s right away?”
Garry told the postmaster to do the latter thing, and then went back to where the others were assembled.
“Now let’s hear all that’s happened,” he said to Mr. Everett.
“I guess perhaps we’d better wait till the boys get back, and let them have the fun of telling you themselves. It’s been pretty exciting, though, what with bank burglars and masqueraders of the law.”
Just as Aunt Abbie called that dinner was ready, Phil and Dick came tearing in. They leaped on Garry, shaking hands with him and pounding him exuberantly on the back.
“I told grandfather here,—yes, we call him that now,”—said Dick as he saw the look of wonder on Garry’s face. “I told him you would bring home the bacon.”
“Well, I like that,” put in Ruth indignantly. “Are you insinuating that I’m fat, Mr. Dick? Bacon yourself!”
Everyone laughed at Dick’s stuttering apologies, and then Garry demanded that they tell the story of their adventures since he left them.
Phil and Dick in turn recited what they had done, their stories being constantly interrupted by exclamations from Aunt Abbie, who became more and more excited as the stories were told, even though she knew what had transpired during the preceding hours.
“And, so we decided not to wait for you to come back,” said Phil, as he took up the concluding events. “We went and got the sheriff and brought him to the postoffice, where we laid the whole matter before him. He didn’t want to take any steps at first, because he could not conceive of a U. S. officer not being straight. Then Mr. Arthur, the bank president, came in, and Denton called him in and asked his advice. He took our side immediately, and told the sheriff to go ahead and get Simmons. I wouldn’t say for sure, but I guess that Arthur has a lot of political influence in the county. At any rate, the sheriff went ahead on his say so, and came back with Simmons. There the whole thing was put up to him, and say, you should have heard him explode. He threatened everyone with all kinds of things,—said he’d have the whole postoffice department here, and hollered about country sheriffs interfering with Federal officers and all that sort of stuff. And the more he hollered, the madder the sheriff got at being called a ‘hick,’ until if Simmons, calling him that for want of a better name, had proven his innocence then and there, I don’t believe the sheriff would have let him go without an order from the President.
“Finally Dick came to bat with an idea that was seized by all hands as the only sensible thing to do. He suggested that Denton send a telegram to the postal authorities at Washington with a description of the man and asking if it checked up. The masquerader shut up like a clam then. The sheriff wrote out his description and Denton sent the wire. About two hours later he got an answer saying that no man in the postal service with the name of Simmons answered that description, and ordered him held pending an investigation. My guess now is that there’s another inspector hot footing it here from Washington about this time.”
“Good land of liberty. Will you people come in and eat? That dinner must be stone cold by now,” said anxious Aunt Abbie.
“I’d rather get a look at this chap before I eat,” said Simmons. “I want to know who’s been using my name and papers that were taken away from me when I was captured.”
“Well, if that’s all you want, go in and eat till I run upstairs. I have his picture up there,” said Dick.
The party marched into the dining room, and in a moment or two Dick was back with the group picture he had taken the first day they arrived.
“There’s your man there,” said Dick, pointing out the impostor.
“Yes, I’m right,” said the inspector, after a hasty scrutiny. “His name is Sullivan and he’s been discharged from the service for some little time now. I’ll go down and rescue my badge and papers after awhile.”
Dinner was a merry affair, since it was in the nature of a re-union.
“Now,” said Aunt Abbie, when all had finished, “I’ll get that big dog of yours something to eat. I’ve had to keep him down in the cellar while you boys were out, else he’d have chased himself to death all over town looking for you.”
“I’ll take it to him,” volunteered Garry. He had no sooner opened the cellar door than Sandy leaped on him with a bark of delight, and the two friends, boy and dog, had almost a rough and tumble.
There was little to do for the real Simmons. He held a conference with Denton, and then proceeded to the lock-up, where Sullivan was waiting before being taken to the county jail.
Here he succeeded in getting a full confession from the impostor, who saw that since he had been caught, there was nothing to be gained by concealing anything. Knowing what he did of the service, he knew that the authorities would work relentlessly until they had searched out every fact and pinned it on him.
Simmons then wired an account of the affair briefly to his superior, stating also that complete report would be mailed. He prepared this report and then allowed the boys to read it.
They protested when they finished it, for it was largely a glowing account of their ability and bravery in doing the work they had done. Simmons, however, silenced their protests by stating that whatever they thought, that was his idea, and that was the way that the report was going.
But one thing did Sullivan refuse to tell, and that was the writer of the threatening letters. Simmons caused fingerprints to be taken of all the captives, and though not pretending to be an expert, knew enough of the science to be able to declare that none of them compared with the print on the letter.
It happened that Dick’s photography stood in good stead at this time, for Sullivan had destroyed the originals, and but for the photographs, there would have been no evidence.
“I take that to mean only one thing,” declared Garry. “There is no one left on whom suspicion could rest except Jean LeBlanc, and when LeBlanc is caught, I am sure you’ll find that is his fingerprint. It is probable that Sullivan knows that LeBlanc is still free, and thinks that by keeping silent he may aid his confederate in crime to some degree. Now we seem to have this gang pretty well rounded up. Only Jean and Baptiste are at large, and I’m hoping that they will soon be under lock and key. That pair are not fit to be free and are a menace to any community where they may be located.”
Later on in the afternoon, as they sat about relaxing after their strenuous adventures, the ’phone rang and Aunt Abbie said that Dick was wanted. He came back a few moments later and remarked:
“Cut down that list of our enemies to one. The sheriff says he sent out word to all the authorities in the county last night, and one caught Baptiste this morning at the railroad station. Wonder if there isn’t some way we can get Jean? That would sure be a complete round-up then.”
“I don’t know what we can do,” said Garry. “Only thing to do is to be vigilant every moment and wait for him to try some trick, as he undoubtedly will. Then we can muster a posse if necessary and run him down. He’s such a slippery customer, though, and seems to find out what’s going on so quickly, that now his whole gang is arrested, he’ll probably seek safety for a time in hiding.”
“I’m not so sure about that,” said Phil. “I’ve got a strong hunch that he’ll be coming after our scalps pretty soon. We’ve been lucky enough so far to thwart him in every nefarious move that he has made.”
“Well, time alone will tell that,” said Garry. As he spoke, there came a knock at the door, and the boys nearly fell off their chairs when they heard Aunt Abbie say in the high-pitched voice that she used when excited:
“Well, great land o’ Goshen. Nate Webster! I haven’t seen you for years!”
“Do you suppose that’s our Nate Webster?” inquired Garry.
“Quickest way to find out is to go and see,” answered Dick, and suiting the word to the action started for the front hall.
It was the Nate Webster they knew, and he greeted the boys heartily.
“How do you happen to be in this part of the state, Nate?” asked Garry.
“Why, I thought I’d like to see some of my old friends up this way, and I found out from your father where you were, so I just put a man in charge of my place for a while and came up. We’re going to get a couple of good rainy days and that will stop any chance of fire for a time. In fact it was lowering this morning when I started. You know I used to be around here a spell of years ago, and this is a bit of a vacation for me.”
The story of their adventures and those in particular that related to the doings of LeBlanc were retailed for Nate, and at the conclusion he asked what they were going to do.
“I thought perhaps we’d wait for orders from the Chief Ranger, and in the meantime just take it easy for a day or two,” answered Garry.
“Might just as well, at least till the rainy days are over,” agreed Nate.
They took a walk during the afternoon and met some of Nate’s old friends, enjoying the reminiscences that were started when old cronies of the guide got to talking old times with him. They brought Nate back to supper with them, and Garry found a letter waiting for him.
He read the letter over, and then called his chums together.
“This letter is going to cause rather a change in our plans. From what I gather, my mother and yours, Phil, are rather worried; and, furthermore, Mother wants us to have a short vacation at the beach with her before we go to school. Dad suggests that we stay here a week or two, if we want, and have a little fishing and swimming and so on, without feeling that there is any work to do and halt us from just enjoying ourselves.”
“Say, why wouldn’t this be a good time to go and visit the mine, and see if after all it is really a good one, or was just a vain hope,” said Phil.
“You know, I hope that there are some real tourmalines there, for they are valuable things. You know the last time that we were in Bangor, when I slid out for awhile and you wondered where I was. I was at the library, reading up on the stones. I find that they are valuable for more than gems; something I didn’t know before. They are used a great deal in delicate electrical instruments, as they are responsive to electricity and are used to measure the intensity of radium emanations. Then they are used by oculists to test lenses with. The finest specimens are the ones that are used for gems, after being cut, and the others are used in the electrical apparatus. You know, I’d give most anything if we could make some money out of the mine,” he concluded wistfully.
Garry was about to answer, when he caught a significant expression on Dick’s face. He did not know what it was all about, but took it as an indication that he should keep silent.
Soon after that Nate engaged Phil in conversation, and perceiving this, Dick left the room, motioning Garry to follow. They left the house and walked down the street, and as soon as they were out of hearing, Garry asked:
“What kind of a high sign were you trying to give me, Dick?”
“Garry, if it’s the last thing we ever do, we’re going to start for that mine right away. I see the whole idea in the back of Phil’s head.”
“I don’t get your meaning yet,” responded Garry in a puzzled tone.
“Dunderhead! It’s as simple as the nose on your face. First thing that started him off was your reference to our going away to school. You know Phil hasn’t said a word about it to either of us since the day we first mentioned it, except to refuse Dad Boone’s offer to stake him through and let him pay it up later on. But you can bet you that he’s thought about it a lot. Now he has built up a lot of hope on making money out of this mine. If it is anywhere near successful, he could easily afford then to go to school with us. Now does the idea percolate through that thick skull of yours?”
“Thick is right, Dick,” admitted Garry, as he rapped the offending skull with his knuckles. “We’ll outfit up and start tomorrow. In the meantime I’ll write Dad and explain matters to him, and get him to secure our release from the State Forest Ranger at Augusta. I think perhaps we’ve been of enough service so that we can be let off. Anyway, we would have to be released to carry out Dad’s wishes about our vacation with Mother.”
They returned to the house and there broke the news to Phil.
The boy said nothing, but the chums could tell from the look on his face that the news was the most welcome he had heard that summer. Both Garry and Dick tactfully forebore to intimate that they had discovered Phil’s secret, and stated that they were off to the mine solely because it was a lark, and would be an interesting conclusion to their summer.
“There’s one thing, however. Once we start operations at the mine, it will mean that the news will spread about and as soon as we leave we will have to hire a guard to take care of it for us, or perhaps someone to work it until we have exhausted the mine.”
“I have a bright idea,” exclaimed Phil.
“All right, little brightness, shoot it,” said Garry laughing.
“We’ll just hire Nate Webster here; or better than that, I propose that we give him a share in the mine, and let him get a couple of trustworthy friends of his to help him, and he can operate it after we leave.”
“That’s a first class suggestion, Phil. What do you say to it, Nate?” asked Garry, turning to the old timer.
The question struck Nate rather by surprise, and he made them tell him some more details of the mine. When these had been furnished him, he answered:
“Well, I’d be willing to take a chance at it. I’ve done a little of everything but mining, and so I can try that once. But I won’t take any share in the mine. If you boys want to hire me at day wages, all right; but the mine’s yours, and I don’t feel that I should take a share when I’ve done nothin’ towards findin’ it.”
“That suits us all right, Nate, if it does you; for we are not sure that it will pan out. If we were sure it was O. K. I’d insist on giving you a share, for you’ve helped us wonderfully mainy times this summer.”
Some discussion ensued after this, and it was finally terminated by Nate’s reluctantly agreeing to take a share in the mine. He insisted, however, that if they went on this basis, he must be permitted to share and share alike in all expenses and take his chance of luck along with the boys. After some talk this was agreed to, and the boys wrote out a business-like memorandum, making Nate a partner in the venture.
Plans were then made for the outfitting. It was decided that since all were anxious to get at the business of mining, it would be a waste of time to build a shack, and the weather might not continue fine enough to use only a brush house. So a tent was to be purchased. They found that Denton had a large wall tent among his numerous articles in the general store.
There was little to be bought except necessary provisions, and these could be secured at Chester. The essential thing to be purchased was dynamite, and this too they found at Denton’s. It was something that he had occasion to sell often to the farmers, who used it to blow up stumps on the land that was gradually being cleared and used for farming.
Bright and early next morning they started for their mine. An auto was hired to carry them, and on account of the dynamite the long way around was taken.
“If we ever hit one of those bumps the way we did coming from Chester with Ruth and Simmons, we’d wake up in another world,” declared Garry. Goodbyes were said, and arrangements made for Ruth and her grandfather, together with Aunt Abbie to visit them and see the mine in operation.
They reached the mine about noon, and a camp site was selected about a hundred yards from the stony face where the tourmalines, if there were any really there, lay hidden. This spot was chosen because of the proximity of a forest stream; that would at once provide them with clear cold water, and a chance for a bit of trout fishing now and then.
Camping meant outdoor cooking again, and so Dick’s first thought was for the building of a proper stone camp fireplace.
Also he dug a hole, for they had brought shovels with them to use in the mining, and prepared a “beanhole” to use the next day. Practically all the afternoon was taken in making camp, and a visit was paid to the ledge and tomorrow’s operations were planned.
Phil was made “engineer in charge,” for his hours at the library had told him nearly all there was to know about the mining of tourmalines. As they sat around the campfire after supper, Phil explained the process.
“It shouldn’t really be called mining; it’s almost too simple an operation for that. Tourmalines are generally found in pockets in crumbling places in a ledge of rock, or are often found in the sandy subsoil. No instance in this country has been known where they were found at a greater depth than eight feet. Also there is little or no way of determining where there is a geological likelihood of their being located, as in the case of oil, when a geologist can tell whether the formation is that which denotes the presence of oil. Lepidolite, followed by smoky quartz and feldspar is a pretty good indication, however, of their presence.”
“I suggest that we take and dig a bit along the front of that ledge and perhaps find some pockets. Then after we have tried that for awhile, we can pick out likely spots in the face of the ledge which indicate that it is crumbling there, and by using very small charges of dynamite break it away and screen or wash the contents of the pockets until we find our tourmalines.”
Phil never gave thought to a chance of failure. They had found one tourmaline there, and the old map that had guided them to the spot had hinted at riches. Also the faith of the first owner of the map had transferred itself to Phil.
Work started in earnest the next morning, and the four of them, the three chums and Nate, shoveled away until their hands were blistered. It was not until the fourth day that they were rewarded.
Nate was the one to whom the honor of finding the first pocket was given. He gave a shout and the chums ran to his side.
“I swan, but thar she is,” and he pointed with his shovel to a half a dozen glinting objects that sparkled in the sunlight.
All four dropped on their knees and investigated. They gathered up handfuls of the earth and sifted it through their fingers. Nearly twenty specimens were obtained, while their excitement was unbounded. Pale pink and green were the different stones. Four in particular were beauties, being a pale green, translucent and sparkling. These were the ones that could be laid aside to be disposed of as gems for rings or pins.
The next step was to start a more scientific way of getting at the gems. To this end, Dick and Phil were set to bring pails of water, while Garry and Nate procured flat tin pans that had been provided for the purpose. The method used was that which is used in placer gold mining. A quantity of the dirt was scooped up, and water poured in. Then the pan was gently tilted back and forth; “rocking” it is called by the miners, and the dirt gradually was washed away, leaving the pebbles and gems in the bottom of the pan. Then it was an easy matter to pick from the pebbles the real gems. Sometimes they would pan a dozen times before they would pan a gem, and then they would be lucky and pick a half dozen, sometimes half a score of the glinting mineral.
The kind that could be sold for gems were a rarity, but the specimens were all good and could be used for commercial purposes.
After two days of panning they apparently exhausted this particular pocket, and considered moving a few feet and trying again.
Phil suggested that since they had found gems in this particular spot, they blast away a small section from the ledge. He pointed out the fact that there was a fissure at one spot, and this might be the place where a pocket was concealed in the stone.
As it was nearly nightfall, they decided to postpone the blasting until the morning.
Around the campfire, after supper, they chatted and listened while Nate told stories of the forest. One of Nate’s stories was about the search that he had once led for a camper that had gotten lost in the forest, and how he had been found just in time to prevent death from starvation and exposure. This led to a discussion on the part of the boys as to the foolishness of campers in straying so far away from their party as to become lost.
“It’s a crazy thing for one unused to the woods to do,” declared Dick. “And yet it seems such a simple thing to do to keep from starving in the woods. I know I wouldn’t suffer.”
“That’s a pretty broad statement to make, young fellow,” warned Nate.
“I know I could do it,” persisted Dick. “First place I’ve learned a lot of things from practical experience since I’ve been in the woods, and second place, ever since I was a kid and in the Boy Scouts, I’ve studied about it.”
“You might make it for a couple of days, but that’s a long time unless you’re used to the woods and know them end for end and backwards and forwards,” said Nate.
“Could live a week easy, and if I could live that long, will you concede that I’d spend a summer safely and without starving?” asked Dick.
“Don’t believe you could,” said Nate.
“Say, listen, I’ll wager anything I’ve got that I can do it, and by gosh, I’m going to do it anyway, whether you fellows take me up or not,” he announced stubbornly.
They ragged him for awhile and then saw that he was in dead earnest about the matter. From that point the talk developed into whether or not the trick could be turned, and finally they agreed to let Dick try if he wanted to. To make it a fair test, however, they made him agree that if twenty-four hours passed without his being able to get a meal in the woods, that he would come out and admit it was a failure.
“All right, that’s a go. Now what will you allow me to have?” inquired Dick.
“Nothing at all; you’ve got to use Nature’s weapons all the time,” promptly answered Phil.
“No, that’s hardly fair,” protested Nate. “The average camper that got lost would have his knife, and he’d likely have a hatchet stuck in his belt. ’Tain’t likely, though, that he’d have any food with him; and if he were only out for a short stroll, and got twisted in direction, and then lost, he wouldn’t have his gun with him. Suppose we put it this way: You’re in the woods lost, and through an accident you lost your pack and rifle. That leaves you just as I’ve seen you three or four times. You’d have your hatchet and your lariat and that’s all. We’ll even make it easier than that. You can go in as you are now. I don’t know what you have in your pockets, so we’ll let you have that much. You can’t have your matches, though. Say you fell out of a canoe when you lost your pack and rifle, and wet your matches so they are useless. That makes it harder.”
All agreed that this was a fair proposal, and Dick planned to start the next morning. He determined to take to the Forest Reserve, first because he wanted to see it, and second because that seemed to offer the best place to try the experiment. Dick agreed to blaze a trail from where he started so that in case of accident he could be followed.
Next morning all went with him to the river to see him off, and Garry paddled him across the river, using a canoe that he hired from a youngster who was passing that way. They agreed that one of the boys should come to the river at noon and at six o’clock every day to see if he would be back, having concluded the experiment was a failure.
Dick fell into the spirit of his own adventure, and walked half a day into the forest, blazing a trail as he went, and occasionally leaving some of the usual trail signs and messages such as all scouts and woodmen know. Then he pretended that he was lost and started in to make plans for his living. He cast about until he found a brook and set at his first plan.
The first thing was a fire, and he had no matches. That meant using the Indian method of firemaking. The plan that he was to have anything that was in his pockets the night before stood him in good stead, for along with a few minor articles was a stout piece of cord.
He procured some dry moss and tindery substance and made a little heap of it. Then he found a piece of dry bark, and inserted this in the tinder after having made a small hole with the point of his knife. Next he procured a dry stick and sharpened this at both ends. Now all he would have to do was insert the point into the hole in the bark, and twist it briskly between his palms until it started the blaze. This process, however, takes quite a bit of time, owing to the fact that a great speed cannot be attained, hence there is less friction, and so the tinder will not ignite quickly.
There was a way that this could be done quicker and easier. He found a flat piece of wood and bored a small hole in that. Then he searched until he found a crooked stick, and tied his cord loosely at each end. Making a loop in the cord, he slipped it over the stick with the pointed ends. Now all that needed to be done was to put one end in the tinder, and cap the other end with the piece of wood. Holding this bit of wood in one hand, and the “bow” in the other, he sawed back and forth, the string causing the stick to revolve back and forth with great rapidity.
In a very few minutes he had his fire going briskly. Now the next question was something to eat. He heard a slight splash in the stream near him, and thought at once of trout.
How to catch them was the next question. That was soon solved.
What boy does not have a pin or two sticking somewhere in his clothes—generally in his coat lapel. Dick found one, and after some trouble, succeeded in turning the point back about a sixteenth of an inch. This corresponded to the barb of a fish hook. Bending the rest of the pin into a hook was simple.
Now for a line. His cord that he used in the fire making was too heavy, and not long enough. However, Dick soon remedied the lack. He fished out the tail of his cotton khaki shirt, and after a few minutes’ work with the point of his knife, succeeded in drawing out a few of the strong threads. Knotting these together, he had a line.
Bait was now the only thing needed, and a few seconds’ search under the rocks along the shore of the brook uncovered several slugs such as cling to the wet bottom of rocks. Baiting his hook, he threw it in, and in a few minutes had a fine trout. Of course this kind of fishing was crude. Instead of delicately playing the trout, he simply snapped the line back, and landed the fish on the shore in back of him. He cleaned the fish with his knife, stuck it on the end of a stick and roasted it. There was one dinner, he thought.
A drink from the stream completed the meal. Not a heavy one, but still it would have kept starvation away had he been really lost. He spent the afternoon in exploring, and in the course of his wandering, always taking care to notice his trail so that he could get back to the stream and his campfire, he came upon a moist bit of ground.
Dick spied something that meant an addition to his supper.
He bent closer to examine the find. It consisted of mushrooms. He was familiar with the various kinds of poisonous and edible fungi, and an examination of the pink gills and shape of the mushroom convinced him these were all right to eat. Beyond the swampy place was a clump of birches, and here he supplied himself with a quantity of bark.
This would come in handy at a later time to make receptacles of. Dick gathered a quantity of the mushrooms, and returned to his campfire. Now he determined to try an experiment of which he was somewhat skeptical. He had read of the Indians doing it, and so set to work to try it.
He piled on wood until he had a good heap of coals, then made a cone of birch bark, fastening it by sticking a twig through at intervals. Filling this with water, he imbedded the cone in the coals, and threw in some of his mushrooms.
The theory of the bark kettle is that the water will keep the bark wet enough at all times so that the coals will not quite burn through. It cannot be lifted from the coals; the water or stuff that is cooking must be dipped out. Eventually the bark will be consumed, but not before the water or food has been heated sufficiently to use.
Dick had to admit that he was surprised when he found that the contrivance worked, for he had doubted whether or not it would be a success. Having cooked his mushrooms, he sought the rocks again for bait for a fish, and made another discovery. Under some of the biggest rocks were crawfish. He knew that these could be roasted and eaten.
These, however, would do for another day. Then there were roots and berries of various kinds that could be used as sustenance. Altogether there was a quantity of foodstuff that he could use.
He rolled in that night close to the fire, satisfied that he would live the week out in comfort and have the laugh on his friends.
Next morning, after another breakfast of fish and mushrooms, he determined to push up the stream and seek out a new camp place. After a walk that took him nearly half the morning, he branched away from the stream and lay down for a rest. Here he made a discovery that set him thinking. The find was nothing more nor less than a few feathers. He knew after a brief examination that these were from wild turkeys who probably roosted in the trees during the night. The finding of the feathers convinced him that this was perhaps a natural roost for the birds.
After an afternoon of exploration, during which he found some wild raspberries, he came back to the turkey roost spot as he called it. He found he was right in his first conjecture. There were several turkeys roosting on some of the lower branches. Dick procured several good-sized rocks and hurled them at the birds. Two good shots each brought down a turkey, partially stunned. It was the work of a minute to wring their necks.
He cleaned them and roasted them in the coals, and after eating what he wanted, wrapped the cooked flesh in bark and put it by for the next day.
The third morning found him exuberant and cheerful, and he decided to take a long trek in the woods. Twice during the morning he found signs that the mounted Rangers had passed that way, and figured that he was in the line of patrol. He did not want to meet the Rangers so early, as he wanted to subsist entirely on his own discoveries. The afternoon brought him to the foot of a good-sized hill, almost a young mountain.
He noted the location of a spring for use that night, and decided to utilize the remaining hours of light in climbing up the big hill to get a look at the surrounding country.
The climb consumed a good hour of hard work, and he had almost reached the top when he found that he was looking at a cabin. It was perched near the edge of a cliff, and looking out, he figured that there must be a sheer drop of perhaps a hundred feet or more.
At first Dick thought this was the lookout of a Ranger, and entered. There were no maps, however, nor anything else to indicate that the cabin was a lookout. Someone had built a fire recently there, though, and he looked about the cabin. There was a crude cupboard at one end, and in this he found several packages of food.
Dick had some loose change in his pocket, and he was debating on whether a lost man would have the right to take some and leave the money in return.
As he pondered over the ethics of this, he heard something that caused a flutter of excitement.
Someone was nearing the cabin. This in itself would have caused him no great concern, except that whoever was coming was singing softly to himself an old French chanson.
Dick darted to the cabin door, and there, facing him, stood the last person in the world that he wanted to see—Jean LeBlanc.