"Listen, boys, not a word. Wait till we get back on the train, where the rumbling of the wheels over the rails will help to cover our words. Even if we could talk without danger of being overheard, we would not have time, for this train stops barely long enough to allow one to eat."
The boys made haste to finish the meal. They had not recovered from their surprise at finding the stranger was a customs agent even by the time they were through eating and were back in their seats in the smoking car.
"I don't suppose you boys have even started to formulate a plan of campaign, have you?" asked Fernald.
"Not yet, sir," replied Garry. "That is, we haven't made up our minds how to proceed after we have arrived at our headquarters. However, we have stumbled, or rather Phil has, on what we consider to be a very important clue, if such it may be called."
Garry's eyes swept the car, and in a moment he had located the two fur dealers, who had spoken of the cheap furs to be bought near the border.
"Do you see the two men who are in the fourth seat from the front of the car, facing us and playing cards?" he asked.
Casually, and without attracting any notice, Fernald studied the faces of the two men. At last, their features having been stamped on his memory, he turned to Garry, saying:
"Well, I'll know them if I ever see them again, but what of them?"
Hastily Garry related the instance of their conversing together in French, and their remark about the furs.
"We have planned that if they get off, Phil here will follow them, so that we won't lose track of them altogether. We are in hopes that they will eventually lead us to the fountain head of what we are seeking," he concluded.
"That would have been the wise thing to do in case you were alone," Fernald told them.
"But my being here with you changes the complexion of the matter somewhat. I think if they get off, it would be best for me to follow them. That is best for two reasons. Seeing the three ofyou together, would give rise to suspicions were one of you to detach himself suddenly from the rest and try to take up the trail of these men in their own town, for that is what it would be should they get off. Then there is another matter to be taken into consideration. Once let the smuggler band be caught, and only half of the job is done; the rest lies in finding the receiving point of these furs so that they may be seized, or the receivers be made to pay duty that they have evaded. Of course whoever is buying these furs knows they are shipped across the border as contraband. I shouldn't be a bit surprised if these men could lead me direct to something that would show where immense quantities of fur have gone in the past six months."
"I wonder where they are going to get off," remarked Garry.
"That is an extremely simple matter to ascertain. Why not look at the conductor's checks that are sticking out of their hatbands?" queried Fernald with a smile.
"Solid ivory," said Garry disgustedly, as he rapped his forehead sharply with his knuckles.
"Nothing to be ashamed of at all, old fellow," said Fernald easily. "It isn't to be expected that you should know all the tricks of the trade that you have known about not much more than a day. I've been doing this sort of work for twenty years now,and naturally many little bits of knowledge such as that are second nature to me, as natural as breathing or sleeping. Wait a minute while I go up and investigate."
Fernald got up, and acting as though his main idea was just to stretch his legs, strolled up to the front of the car. Passing the men, he stopped quite naturally to watch them play. When one of the men under observance took a trick with an exceptionally good play, he commented audibly on it. The man turned and smiled, showing his seat check as he did.
The system on the railroad was to give different colors for different stations. Fernald noticed that the checks of both men were of an identical color, and had the same number of holes punched in them.
After carelessly watching a moment or two longer, he returned and without stopping to speak to the boys, went past them and into the next car.
Here he engaged a brakeman in conversation, and at last returned to the boys, who were on tenterhooks to learn of his findings.
"I have found out that they are going to get off at the third station from here. However, we do not come to that for nearly two hours, so we have time enough to make any plans we need. I will follow them, and as soon as possible will come on to Hobart. However, when I get there, do not let onyou know me, as we can be of infinitely more help to each other if it is not known that we are working together or even know each other. Whenever the need arises, I will find some way to communicate with you."
For the next hour or so, the conversation switched from one topic to another. Fernald was an interesting talker, and told the boys one or two of his adventures in the custom work of the United States.
Suddenly Dick slapped his leg and exclaimed excitedly:
"By George, our old friend the Hermit has no idea where we have disappeared to. I wish that we had had a chance at least to say goodbye to him and explain that we have been sent to a new station."
"Why not write him a note?" suggested Garry. "You can enclose it in one to Nate, asking him to deliver it the next time he goes into the woods to make an inspection trip. Mr. Fernald here will mail it for you when he gets off the train."
"That's a bully idea, Garry. Didn't have brains enough to think of it myself," chattered Dick.
"Never mind, old timer. Two heads are better than one you know, as the barrel said," laughed Garry.
Diving into his pocket, Dick drew forth the substantial notebook he always carried, and was soonbusy writing a note, doing it as well as the jogging motion of the train would allow.
Finally he finished the note to the Hermit, and hastily scribbling one to Nate, enclosed the two in an envelope, addressed to the Deputy Ranger in Millinocket.
"There," he said, as he sealed the flap of the envelope. "Seems funny to be writing a note to the Hermit, doesn't it. The shoe generally used to be on the other foot when we were on the Patrol. By the way, there's one thing that's been puzzling me for some little time. What led you to think we were in any way connected with the same branch of work that you are, Mr. Fernald?"
"Oh, I'm no mind reader, or Sherlock Holmes," said Fernald with a hearty laugh. "It simply happens that I saw you in the Chief's office at Augusta, when I was there getting some final instructions. The Chief was going to introduce me, but I told him I preferred getting acquainted in my own way. To tell you the truth, at that time I thought the Chief had gone crazy, sending boys, but after looking you over, and unsuccessfully trying to pump you, I decided you boys had the right stuff in you, so made myself acquainted. Then too, I had a quiet bit of fun with you. Own up, now. Didn't you make up your minds that I was a suspicious character,especially after I had tried to get out of you what your business was?"
The boys looked sheepishly at each other, and then began to laugh.
"We must admit it, Mr. Fernald. We had you all ticketed as a person to keep a sharp eye on, until you gave the signal," confessed Garry.
"That's right, boys, one cannot be too careful. When you are on a mission of this kind, a mighty safe rule to follow is never to trust a person until he has unmistakably proven himself to be absolutely trustworthy. If you follow that rule, you'll never go wrong. Once in a while, of course, you'll find yourself in a position where you must use your own judgment. In that case, make sure you are dealing with a good patriotic American citizen, and you'll hit the key pretty nearly every time. Guess that little lecture will conclude our conversation for a while. We will be at the station where our friends disembark in a few minutes now, and I want to beat them to the door, so they will have no idea I am interested in their movements."
He got up and shook hands with the trio, and then in a loud tone, for the benefit of anyone that might be listening:
"Goodbye Boys, have a good camping trip and don't get lost in the Big Timber."
The boys echoed their goodbyes, and their newfriend made his way to his seat where he unearthed a shabby old black traveling bag that appeared to have seen long and constant usage, as well as his blanket roll and rifle.
In the meantime, the card players had returned to their seat near that of the boys to get their luggage. They were chattering volubly in French, and Phil strained his ears, hoping to catch some additional clue, but their conversation was mainly about the pleasures of the trip they were just concluding.
"What are we going to do for supper?" inquired Dick.
"There! He's off again, Phil!" declared Garry. "It's only been four hours since he ate, and now he's thinking about supper."
"Well, four hours is four hours, and two more will make six, and persons should eat once every six hours. That's just human nature," protested Dick. He knew his chums were just ragging him, as they always did about his appetite, but he could never resist the temptation to argue with them, and protest that there was nothing abnormal about his capacity for food.
"I'm going back and find the conductor and see what arrangements have been made for feeding the hungry. And I'll bet a cooky you two are just as interested in the matter as I am," and Dick flounced out of his seat and went in search of the conductor.He came back shortly and announced they would stop an hour at the next town, about an hour's ride distant, for supper.
"Also they put on a sleeper there, and me for that. It beats sleeping in a day coach all hollow."
Came at last the station, and they hustled out to the little frame hotel that stood on the other side of the tracks. This town was more or less of a freight junction. They had a surprisingly good dinner, topped off with a famous New England pudding composed of Indian meal, baked, with grated maple sugar and pure cream poured on top of it.
Finishing the meal, they crossed the tracks back to the train. A sudden breeze lifted Phil's hat, causing him to chase it along the side of a string of freight cars. He stooped to recover it, looking under the freight car, as he did so. What he saw on the other side sent him back to his chums hotfoot.
"Say, fellows, don't think I'm just 'seeing things,' but those three tramps are sitting down there by the tracks eating!"
"Make a break for the train, boys," ordered Garry hastily. "We don't care to have them get a glimpse of us. I'll wager that they are making for the Canadian border, since as we know they have jumped their bail and are probably making for the national boundary line. Bringing them back will be a more difficult task than it would should they stay in the State of Maine."
"All I hope," remarked Phil, "is that they don't linger on the way, but keep right on going. The chances are that our search for the smuggling band will provide us with a new crop of people who are not especially friendly toward us, and old enemies will not be welcomed at the new headquarters."
The boys hunted up the conductor, and provided themselves with berths for the long night ride. They turned in early, for the adventures of the previous night had robbed them of some of their wonted sleep. Morning found them making theirway through vast tracts of forest lands. The train made its usual stop at an eating place and the passengers disembarked for their morning meal. The boys hurried through the breakfast, in order that they might avail themselves of the remaining few minutes to make a hasty search of the train and vicinity of the depot to see whether or not the tramps were anywhere in the neighborhood.
The search proved unavailing, and they returned to their place in the smoking car, as the sleeper had been taken off at that station. The remainder of the ride for that day passed uneventfully. About the only topic of conversation was where they should make their headquarters when they arrived in their new location. They discussed the feasability of hiring lodgings in the town of Hobart, and after a short discussion discarded this plan, since it would not be in keeping with their characters as campers.
"My idea," explained Garry, "is to branch out from Hobart some little distance in the woods, and there for a time being, build a double lean-to. The weather gives promise of being fair for some time to come, and if we find that circumstances warrant our staying in that vicinity, we can without a great deal of trouble build a pole cabin."
Late afternoon brought them to the town of Hobart, and cramped and weary from their thirty-six hour ride on the train, they gladly disembarked.
The little town of Hobart lay on the other side of the railroad tracks. It was like so many other small Maine towns, consisting of a huge general store, a smithy, which was also a garage, a great ramshackle building that was once a restaurant and a rooming house, evidently used by trappers who came there to dispose of their furs, and lumberjacks on their way to lumber operations in that vicinity. The boys proceeded directly to the general store, and here made inquiries as to the owner of the vast timber lands that entirely surrounded Hobart.
The shrewd old Yankee storekeeper told them that all the timber land in that section was controlled by one of the great paper and pulp companies of the State, and that campers never bothered to get permission to use the land.
Further inquiry brought out the information that the national boundary line was only about three miles from Hobart.
The boys decided to hike directly into the woods, build for themselves a fire, and sleep in the open, reserving the next morning to find a suitable camping place where they might erect their lean-to. They provided themselves with a week's supply of provisions, finding that they could come into town often enough to replenish their supplies as they ran out.
"Now," remarked Garry, after their provisions had been purchased, "we can do one of two things,either strike directly into the woods and cook our supper over a camp fire, or we can go over to the restaurant and have our meal there, which appeals most to me."
"I would suggest," said Phil, "that we eat tonight at the restaurant, not that I am too lazy to cook in the woods, but because it is probable that a good share of the people who live in this town, but who do not have real homes here, also eat there. In this way, we can become familiar at least with faces of those who inhabit the place, and who knows but what it may be the headquarters of the very crew that we are seeking."
"I think that's a prime suggestion," said Garry heartily, "so I move we leave our rifles and knapsacks here at the general store, and get our supper."
Before leaving they inquired from the storekeeper what would be the best route to take to bring them into the woods. They were told that to the eastward was a small farming community, and that the timber line did not begin in that direction for a matter of ten miles, but that to the southwest, a half-hour's walk, would bring them to the dense forests.
Making sure before they left their supplies at the store, that it would remain open until they had time to finish their meal, they repaired directly to the restaurant. Here they found a picturesque scene.A long counter ran the entire length of the room, presided over by an old French Canadian, clad in a red flannel shirt, rough corduroy trousers and high boots. To one side of the room were several tables, at which men were already seated, playing cards or checkers. A number of fine specimens of moose and deer heads hung from the walls.
The boys, perched upon high stools, were soon enjoying their meal. While they were eating, they kept their ears and eyes wide open, but their diligent attention brought them no reward. True, there were a number of rough looking characters about the room, who might have been members of or even heads of the particular band they had come to that country to find. The meal over, Phil wanted them to remain for a while, in the hope that some stray bit of conversation would give them something to work on, but Garry vetoed this idea, for the reason that there still remained only a half hour or so of daylight and he thought it would be wise for them to get to a point to make themselves a camp before darkness fell.
Retrieving their packs and rifles from the general store, they started for the woods, first filling their canteens, for it would probably be unlikely that they could find a spring immediately on their arrival. A half an hour's brisk walk brought them to the beginning of the timber line. The rapidly gathering dusk signalled the quick approach of nightfall, and they had barely penetrated the forest when Garry called a halt.
The first duty was to build a fire, and in a short time they had gathered enough brush to start their camp fire. A short search soon resulted in their finding an old fallen tree, and in a few minutes they had procured from this enough firewood to last them out the night. The last task before rolling in for the evening was to get a number of spruce boughs for making the usual mattress for anyone sleeping out in the open in the great forests of Maine.
Garry awoke with the dawn, and soon tumbled his companions out. Fresh wood was thrown on the few remaining embers, and in a short time coffee was boiling and bacon was being fried, while Dick superintended the making of a big batch of spider bread. It was the first meal that the boys had cooked over a camp fire in several days, and they heartily enjoyed every mouthful of it.
Breakfast over, the first task of the morning was to locate a suitable place in which to pitch their temporary camp. Striking out to the southwest, they spread out fanshaped, but not so far away that they could not hear the sound of each other's voices. Zigzagging back and forth, they searched for a spring. It was nearly a half of an hour before theirsearch was rewarded with success, when Dick's call brought the three together.
Accidentally he had stumbled on an ideal camp site. It was one of those natural clearings that are so often found in the densest forests. Nearby was a clear spring, with cold water that trickled into an ever widening forest stream.
The boys immediately decided that a day's search might not have provided them with a better spot, and in a short time were bustling actively about building their new camp. This consisted merely of throwing together a brush lean-to.
The brush lean-to is the simplest sort of forest home. It is made by erecting two poles, six to seven feet in height, and about six to eight feet apart. In back of these, at a distance of some six feet, are placed two more poles about one-half the height of the first pair. Four poles are laid on the tops of these, secured by cutting a cleft in the tops, and laid so as to form the frame work for the roof of the lean-to. The next step in the building of such a habitation is to lay poles at an interval of a foot or a foot and a half along the roof part of the lean-to.
When erecting the uprights, care is taken to leave two or three bits of branch project at intervals along the length of the poles. On these long saplings are laid. The frame work of the lean-to isthen complete, and the finishing step consists of cutting great quantities of brush.
These pieces of brush are hung on the saplings that have been spread across the frame work, the branches being crudely woven in and out of each other. The front of the lean-to is generally left open. Some woodsmen prefer to enclose all four sides, but the case of the brush shack being built by the boys, the front part was left open, since their idea was to build another lean-to directly opposite and about four feet away. In the open space between the two shacks could be built a camp fire.
The crude shacks thus constructed furnished them with ample protection during fair weather, and even during a moderate summer shower. Of course, in an extended rain, such shacks would be next to useless, as the steady downpour of rain would soon beat through the brush roof.
The shacks being completed, they chopped a quantity of firewood, using parts of fallen trees, wind wracked ruins that had dried and seasoned under the summer sun. This was stored away in one of the lean-tos. A balsam tree being found, quantities of the branches were cut to furnish beds for the three. The camp was now completed, and it being nearly noon, Dick departed into the woods to knock down a few squirrels for lunch. He was back in less than a half of an hour with three fatsquirrels, and these skinned, impaled on a sharp stick, and wrapped with a slice or two of thickly cut bacon, were soon roasted over the red embers of the fire.
"Now, before we get down to business, who's for a trip to the border line? I want to see just how it feels to be in two countries at once," suggested Phil.
The boys agreeing, Garry drew out his pocket map and consulted it, bearing in mind the directions given them by the storekeeper. He decided they were less than five miles distant from the boundary, so striking out, they trudged steadily in what they believed was the proper direction. A walk of about an hour and a half brought them within what they considered was the proper location of the boundary line, then striking out toward the north-east, they spread out in search of one of the monuments or cairns that are erected at frequent intervals along border lines. Luckily, a few minutes' search brought them to one of the white stone posts which are common wherever two countries come together. On the top of the monument, chiseled in deep letters, were the words "Boundary Line." On the one side was cut "United States," while on the other was the word "Canada." Dick immediately straddled the post, exclaiming:
"Well, this is the first time that I have ever beenin two countries at exactly the same moment." His enthusiasm was so infectious that Garry and Phil immediately followed suit and tried the novel experience.
Doubling back on the trail over which they had come, mid-afternoon found them back at their camp site. Here a surprise awaited them, for making free use of their coffee pot and one of their frying pans was a man, cooking a meal over their camp fire.
"That chap seems to be making himself right at home in our camp, doesn't he, Garry," remarked Phil.
"So he does, but that is the way of many of the old timers in the woods. They consider it all right to make use of anyone's camp so long as they take nothing and do no harm, and leave some sign that they have been there, provided the owners do not return before he leaves. He's a picturesque-looking old fellow, isn't he? Looks something like our old Hermit friend. Let's go and see who he is," concluded Garry.
They made their way to the lean-to, for they had stopped when they saw the new occupant of the camp.
"Howdy, stranger," hailed Garry.
"Howdy, boys," he returned. "This your camp here?"
"Yes, we just threw it up yesterday. Are you from round these parts?" asked Garry.
"Callate that's just what I am. Name's Dudley, George Washington Dudley, generally called 'Dud' for short by my friends."
Garry then proceeded to tell his name and those of his companions. The old man left off his cooking long enough to shake hands, and then resumed his turning of the bacon.
"Got hungry and didn't want to start a new fire somewhere, and so used your place here. Wasn't expecting to be gone so long today, and didn't bring anything with me. Just helped myself. Will make it all right next time I come this way. What you boys doing up here? 'Spose you're from the city, but you don't look as though you were exact strangers to the woods. Sensible looking clothes you've got on, too."
"We're figuring on camping here for a time, and looking the country over. What's your business?" asked Garry, with the true Yankee inquisitiveness.
"Oh, I do several things. Just now I'm a gum hunter."
"A what?" chimed in Phil.
"Gum hunter," responded the old man briefly, as though that settled the question.
"I am afraid we don't know just what a gumhunter is," confessed Garry, speaking for his chums as well as himself.
"No, I 'spose you don't. Can't expect city boys to know a great deal anyway. Well, a gum hunter is just what it sounds like. I go through the woods getting spruce gum for the drug stores. Make a good living that way part of a year. Get a lot of druggists all way from Portland to Boston who won't buy spruce gum from anyone but me. They know I send 'em only the best. Understand what a gum hunter is now?"
"Thank you, yes," said Garry. "But you said you did other things. Mind telling us what they are? We are not inquisitive, only this is something new to us."
"Sure I don't mind. Sometimes I pick yarbs. There's a powerful lot of them in the woods, like sassafras root and checkerberry and things like that. I sell these to the same druggists that buy my gum. Then sometimes I guide parties. In the wintertime I trap. And sometimes in the spring, I work on the log drive on the river. There's lots of things a man can do to make a living in these woods, if he only knows enough. And it beats working in a store or something all hollow. You're never sick, and mainly you are your own boss, without anyone to tell you when to work and what to work at," concluded the old gum hunter.
For the benefit of our readers who may not be acquainted with Yankee dialect, yarbs is the native's way of saying herbs.
The boys were much interested in the old man's various occupations. They had no idea that a man could do so many different and profitable things in the wilds of the great forests.
"What you boys aim to do while you are camping?" inquired the newcomer, as he ate his late lunch. "You won't find a powerful lot of shooting as there ain't much now that the law is off. Course you can get some good fishing if you follow that brook that is fed by the spring you get your water from for about three miles. There's a place there where a couple of old trees lay across the brook, blown down in some big storm, I expect, and there are some noble trout there. If I had had time today, I'd have gone down there and caught a couple for my meal, instead of taking your bacon."
"You were perfectly welcome to it, and anytime you are around here drop right in and help yourself. You'll always find a plenty," said Garry cordially.
"That's the right spirit to show in the woods, young feller," and the gum hunter slouched off to the spring to draw some water to wash the dishes after his meal. He came back with the water, and pouring a small quantity of it in the greasy fryingpan, put it on the coals. The dish and his knife and fork, he scrubbed first with a handful of earth, and in a short time they were clean of the grease of the bacon. All that needed to be done was to rinse them out. By this time the water in the frying pan had come to a boil, and pouring it out, the pan was found to be nearly free of the grease. An application of earth, and a rinse, and that job was done.
Then filling an old pipe, he stretched out near the fire, and began to ply the boys with questions,—where they had come from, why they came so far from home to go camping, and countless other shrewd interrogations. For some reason he seemed to think it peculiar that they had come so far when there were plenty of forests nearer home where they could have established a camp.
Garry took it on himself to answer most of these questions, and in turn asked many of the old man.
Finally Garry looked straight at the old fellow, and asked quietly:
"Ever hear of any smuggling going on in these parts?"
"That's a funny question for a young fellow like you to be asking. You fellows haven't come up here to join some smugglers' band, that is, supposing there were any up here? Sure you boys haven't been reading woolly tales of smugglers on theborder, or something, have ye?" he asked suspiciously.
Garry and the others laughed at the implication. Garry, although not so old in years, had several times proved himself to be a shrewd judge of character, and he had already made up his mind that the old gum hunter was a staunch and sturdy and patriotic citizen of the State. However, he decided to let a little time elapse before further questioning of the woodsman, or imparting any confidences to him.
"Where did your guide go after he fixed you up here?" asked the gum hunter, after a short silence.
"We didn't have any guide," answered Dick.
"You fellows mean to tell me that you picked this site and pitched camp yourselves?" demanded Dudley.
"Just exactly that," responded Garry.
"Well, it's mighty good job. Who taught you to make a double lean-to in that fashion?"
"Why, we've made rather a study of woodcraft, and this is not our first experience in the woods," answered Garry. Then thinking of a way in which he could let the old timer know that they were not merely adventurous, inquisitive boys, he decided to reveal to George Washington Dudley the fact that they were members of the Forest Ranger Service,but to keep a secret the fact that they were also on Customs duty.
On hearing this, the old man looked at them with considerably different aspect.
Garry explained to him, as it had been decided at Augusta to give them a good excuse for being in the woods, that they were covering that part of the country with a view to establishing a 'phone service for the Ranger System, that section being unprotected in that manner. As a matter of fact, the border line was but poorly guarded, as the meagre appropriation by the Legislature did not allow every foot of the country to be taken care of in the manner that it should.
This announcement by Garry increased the respect of the old man for them.
"Yes, sir, boys," he said, "that's one of the biggest things that's been done in this State for many a long year. I tell you, I've lived in these woods all my life, and that's more than sixty years, and I love these great trees. They all seem like so many friends to me. Of course I know that they must be sacrificed for the good of mankind, but it makes me sad when I think of the way the paper mill people have gone through mile after mile of timber land, cutting it clean of every tree. Course they should take only the big trees, that have grown old likemen, and have almost outlived their good on earth. But to cut down young trees, it's just like killing young boys. To the paper mill people it only means just so much more pulp. Then the fires that are so often caused by careless campers and hunters. Yes, sir, it's sure a crime, and it's a fine thing for boys as young as you to know about these things and help fight the evils. But there's one thing that's been a puzzling me. What did you ask about smugglers for?"
"Why, it was partly curiosity, and partly because we heard that there was considerable smuggling in this part of the country, it being so near to the Canadian border line," said Garry cautiously. Then, carefully choosing his words, he went on:
"And if we did find evidence of any, we being in a branch of the State service, it would be our duty as good American citizens to run it down as far as possible and bring the smugglers to justice. Don't you think it would?" he concluded, looking sharply at old Dud.
"Yes sir," shot out the old gum hunter emphatically, and somewhat to the surprise of Garry, who had put the question merely to see what side the old timer would take. "I believe in upholding the laws of the land. I came from a family that has done that always. My Daddy fought in the MexicanWar, and he was killed in Shiloh during the Civil War. I didn't tell 'em just the truth about my age in the Spanish War, and so I was in that myself; but they knew I was stretching the truth a little when I tried to get in the big scrap in 1917. Ain't never one of our family done anything but uphold the law the way she was written on the books.
"Now as for this smuggling that you speak of, it does happen and it happens right in this region. There's a regular nest of 'em right in Hobart. Now mind I ain't saying anything, but if a person was to keep watch of certain fellows that always of an evening went through the back door at the end of the restaurant, he might some time know just who those fellows were. One thing, though, there ain't much help to be got from any of the townspeople when it comes to that practice. Lots of border people can't see the justice in paying duty on stuff that comes from a country that's as near them as Canada is. They don't seem to look on it as a foreign country at all. Guess it's because they are too familiar with it. And that's that. So now, boys, I'll bid ye a goodbye and trot along. I don't just know what you boys are up to, but I'll lay that it's all right, and I've just got this to say: Anytime you get into a bad hole, or need some help in the worst kind of way, remember and get to George W. Dudley, or old Dud the gum hunter. Everyonehereabouts knows who I am and where I can be found in a short time."
So saying, the old man shouldered his long rifle and went his way.
"Boys," said Garry elatedly, "the trail begins here!"
Night drawing on, the boys prepared their supper. The night's meal consisted of a real stew, for since they were so near to a place to purchase provisions they were able to indulge themselves a little more than when they were at their first station, so far away from a base of supplies.
Canned beef was used, and then a few potatoes and carrots were peeled and cut into small cubes. A good meat stew is one of the easiest things to make in the woods, provided one has a variety or two of vegetables.
All that is necessary to do is to cut the meat into small squares about an inch thick, then peel and cut the vegetables to the same size. Put just enough cold water in the kettle to cover the meat and vegetables, and then let the whole simmer slowly over the coals. From time to time the cook should take a look at the stew and see that it does not dry. It will be necessary to add a small quantity of waterfrom time to time, and in about an hour and a quarter the stew will be ready, and after a long hike in the woods it is a dish that is fit for a king.
While Dick superintended the cooking of the stew, Phil and Garry replenished the wood supply. The stew put on the fire, Dick searched until he found a piece of sapling about an inch and a half in diameter. This is peeled off the bark and so made a rolling pin. A glass jam jar was then emptied of its contents and laid to one side.
"Ah, I perceive that we are going to have hot biscuits for supper tonight," remarked Phil, smacking his lips.
"Regular little Sherlock, aren't you?" said Garry with a laugh. "When you see a chap make a rolling pin and a biscuit cutter, you immediately reach the conclusion that he's going to make biscuits."
That was what Dick was intending to do. With a hot stew, there is nothing more palatable than a stack of piping hot biscuits cooked in a spider over a bed of red embers. They require but little work, only one thing being necessary, and that is to rub the shortening through into the flour. Many amateur campers wonder why the biscuits are flat or doughy. It is because they either do not know that the shortening should be ground in, or else, which is too often true, are too lazy to do the work.
For the benefit of some of our readers who maywant to go camping over a summer week-end, the proper making of a pan of biscuits will be described. To make a dozen biscuits, or enough for three hungry boys, take a pint and a half of flour, a teaspoon and a half of baking powder, half a heaping teaspoonful of salt, the equivalent of a heaping tablespoonful of shortening, which may be bought by the can, (lard or drippings will do equally as well) and about half a pint of cold water. Stir the baking powder into the flour, then the salt. Then rub the shortening thoroughly into the flour, till not a bit of it remains in lumps or on the bottom of the mixing pan. Then stir in the water until you have a thick dough. In the meantime have a hot bed of coals, then dust a little flour on the bottom of one of your frying pans.
Finally roll out your dough with the home-made sapling rolling pin, and use an old glass jar or a small round tin to cut your biscuits out with. Knead over the bits that are left from cutting the biscuits out until all the dough has been used. Put them in the frying pan, and if you have no cover, use a second inverted pan for one.
Put this on the hot coals about twenty minutes before your supper is to be ready, and a few moments later put on the coffee pot.
The result will be a supper that cannot be found in the finest of hotels, especially if your appetite issauced by a good hike and the fragrant balsamy air of the great forest.
Squatting about the glowing coals of the campfire, which cast a red reflection on the tall, sombre pines in back of them, they voted Dick a capital cook, and the supper one of the best they had eaten since they left the station where they had done fire patrol duty.
The meal over and the dishes washed, they discussed the advisability of establishing a guard as they had done when danger threatened them in past times.
Garry was of the opinion that it would be unnecessary for a time, as no one knew of their mission and they had seen nothing that would tend to alarm them.
The others were glad of this decision, for all were tired with the work of establishing the camp and the hike they had taken to the boundary line.
Shortly after midnight Garry was roused from his slumber by a nightmare in which he dreamed that LeBlanc and he were desperately battling on the top of a great cliff.
The dream was so realistic that when he woke, he shuddered for a moment. Then feeling somewhat chilly, he found that the fire had died down, and rose to throw a few sticks of wood on the stillred coals. He cast a glance about him and in the distance saw a gleaming pair of eyes!
Hastily drawing his flashlight from his pocket, and diving back into the lean-to for his rifle, he made sure it was loaded and then investigated the gleaming eyes. His flashlight was a good one, throwing a long white beam of light into the darkness.
What he saw was some sort of an animal that, unperturbed by the light, was advancing slowly. Snapping off the flashlight, and dropping it to his side, he threw his rifle to his shoulder. He took a careful aim at a point between the shining eyes, and fired. There was a snarl and a violent squirming for a moment, and then all was still.
Garry's shot had sent the wild echoes chashing through the still forest, and in a trice, Phil and Dick were awakened, and came rushing to his side, bringing their rifles with them.
"What is it, Garry?" shouted Phil. "Have we been attacked?"
"No, but there is no telling what he might have done. As far as I could make out, it's a big bobcat. I haven't gone near it yet, for I am not sure that it is dead, although it hasn't made a move since I fired," answered Garry.
"Well, let's go and take a look. Load your rifle again, and we can keep ours trained on the beastand make short work of him if he is still alive," said Phil.
Garry rescued his flashlight from the spot where he had dropped it when he made ready to shoot, and the three started cautiously for the still carcass. Arriving at the point, Dick seized a dead stick from the ground and, throwing accurately, hit the animal in the ribs. It made never a move, and so the chums judged it was safe to approach.
The animal was stone dead. Garry's shot had pierced the brain right in the forehead, and the animal had evidently died almost instantly.
They examined the animal. It was a sort of a pepper-and-salt color with a pencil or streak of black hair extending from the back of the ears. As far as they could judge, it would stand about two feet tall, when erect, and must have been almost a yard from the top of its nose to the end of its abbreviated tail. The legs and feet were heavily covered with fur, and bore wicked, razorlike claws.
A snarl was on the face of the night prowler even in death. Garry seized it by the scruff of the neck, and hefted it.
"By George, I bet that animal weighs every ounce of thirty pounds," he exclaimed.
"Then it's the heftiest bobcat I've ever heard about," said Phil.
"Well, let's get back to bed again," yawned Dick."I was sleeping like a log when I thought the whole shack had been pulled in about my ears. Good thing I woke up though. I forgot to put beans to soak last night, and I am determined to have baked beans for tomorrow night's supper. Guess I'll put them to soak and turn in again. Bring your old bobcat along and hang it to a branch, and we'll skin it tomorrow and try and tan it."
"Skin nothing," declared Garry. "I'm going to have that critter stuffed and mounted. It's one of the finest specimens I've ever seen."
"You fellows can argue all night if you want to," stated Phil emphatically. "I'm going to crawl into my blanket again. Good night!"
The boys returned to the camp, and still rubbing the sleep from his eyes, Dick put his beans to soak, and in a few minutes quiet had again descended on the camp, only the occasional snap of a burning knot breaking the majestic silence of the great forest that surrounded the sleeping boys.
When morning came, Garry was the first to awake. Glancing mischievously at his sleeping companions, he softly stole to where he had hung the body of the bobcat the night before, and hid it in the lean-to in back of the pile of cut firewood. Phil awoke a moment after, and coming out, looked for the animal to get a closer look at it in the daytime. He inquired in surprise where the carcass had gone.
"If you can keep a straight face and deny everything, we will have a few minutes of fun with Dick," said Garry with a wink.
"Go to it, I'm on," laughed Phil. Garry proceeded to start the coffee and slice the bacon for breakfast.
Then walking over to where Dick lay still soundly sleeping, he stirred him with his foot, shouting:
"Get up, lazybones, and make a mess of flapjacks for breakfast," for it was admitted by the boys that Dick was the best cook of the three.
Dick rolled out of his blanket with a protesting murmur, and then ran to the brook below the spring, where he dashed the cold water into his face until the sleep fog had rolled away. On his way back he glanced at the spot where the animal's body had been hung the night before. Not seeing it, he turned to Garry and asked what he had done with the wildcat.
"What wildcat?" asked Garry in amazement, while Phil looked at Dick with a blank face.
"Why, the bobcat or wildcat or civetcat, or whatever it was, that you shot last night."
Garry turned and shook his head sadly at Phil.
"Poor chap, the strain of the last few days hasbeen too much for him, or else he is eating too much again before he goes to bed. He eats too much anyway, that's why he has such awful dreams."
"Dream nothing," shouted Dick, half angry, half puzzled. "Do you mean to stand there and tell me that you didn't turn the camp upside down last night by shooting some sort of an animal?"
"Absolutely," declared Garry firmly.
"That must have been some dream that you had last night," chimed in Phil, carrying out the joke.
Dick stared at his two companions, but seeing their sober faces, muttered something to himself and set about fixing the flapjacks. By this time he was firmly convinced that he had dreamed the whole occurrence, and on being pressed by the boys, told his "dream," relating exactly the circumstances of the adventure of the night before.
Although it nearly killed them to do it, the others maintained a straight face and listened with interest. Breakfast over, Dick was wandering around the camp when he discovered the beans he had set to soak when he was roused by the shot that killed the nocturnal visitor. Immediately he remembered that he had forgotten to do this before retiring, hence he must have done it when he got up.
Without saying anything to his companions, he quietly prowled about the camp, until he came onthe body of the bobcat where Garry had hidden it. Instantly the light broke, and he made a dash for Garry, knocking him over and getting astride of him. Then Dick proceeded to tickle his ribs vigorously.
"Try to string me, will you? Holler nuff and say you're sorry you made fun of an innocent, trusting person like myself. Holler nuff."
"Hey, Phil, pull this wildman off me," gasped Garry between gasps of laughter, both at the tickling and at the recollection of the joke that had been played on the fat boy.
But Phil was rolling on the ground laughing until the tears ran down his cheeks. Both he and Garry had held in as long as it was possible, and now they were making up for lost time.
Dick at last tired of pummeling Garry, and soon he joined in the laughter, for the joke was undeniably on him.
While they were laughing, along came Dud the gum hunter, bearing a chicken with him.
"Here, boys, thought you might like a bit of chicken, and that'll help make up for the bacon and flour of yours that I used yesterday."
The boys thanked him heartily, and then Garry asked if he knew anyone in that region that could stuff a bobcat, explaining how he had shot one thenight before. Dud asked to see the animal, and then exclaimed, his eyes popping:
"Bobcat? Why, boy alive. That's the biggest, finest specimen of Canada Lynx I have even seen. It's one of the most savage animals to be found in the whole North Woods!"
"A Canada lynx!" ejaculated Garry. "Why, I thought they were to be found only in the wilds of Northern Canada."
"That's what a good many people think, but they can be found almost anywhere in the northern tier of this country. A friend of mine a couple of years ago shot one on the banks of Lake Champlain barely a mile outside the city of Plattsburg. I don't ever recollect seeing one as fine or as big as that one of yours. If you'd like, I'll stuff it and mount it for you."
"That is more than I dared hope," said Garry. "I didn't know whether I could find a taxidermist up here or not."
"You'll find that a good many old woodsmen are pretty skillful at it, especially those who hire out as guides in the deer season," replied Dud. "I mounted a fine deer head for a hunter from New York last year, and he said it was a better job than was doneby one of the high-priced animal men in that city. But there's something else I want to tell you. I can't say much, but there is a pernicious lot of activity lately among a certain class of fellows who find a lot of business over the border every now and then. Now mind ye, I ain't saying anything, but I've seen and heard a couple of things since last night. Also, the 'lane' that is used by these fellows isn't a million miles from here, and a nod is as good as a wink to a blind mare. Remember I ain't said nothing at all."
Leaving the boys to ponder over his remarks, the gum hunter threw his bag across his shoulder and departed on his quest of spruce gum.
"Now I wonder why he is so secretive about this business. Evidently he knows all about it, so why shouldn't he come right out and tell what he knows. It's a puzzle," said Garry reflectively.
"Don't you suppose he is that way because he lives here and knows all these people and does not want to become involved in any way, fearing that they might seek revenge on him for giving away their secrets? Perhaps he even has some misguided relative or friend who is mixed up in the mess some way," suggested Phil.
"I believe that is the only solution, Phil. At any rate, it behooves us to be on the move and see what we can find out. He said something about thesmugglers' 'lane' being around here. I suppose that he means the trail over which the stuff is brought. I suggest that the business of the morning be to locate it if possible. Let's head toward the boundary stone, and strike up along what is approximately the border from there and see if we can discover anything in the way of a trail. First, however, I suggest that we take all our food supplies and cache them safely in a tree somewhere in this vicinity. Not so much for fear that they will be stolen, but because I don't want the fact advertised of our being here in case someone should come along in our absence. If we are here, then all right, if we are not, these lean-tos look to be only temporary, and no one would give them a second thought. I've also thought it would be a good plan to search out one or two other likely camp-sites and establish camps there. Then we can go from one to another and not advertise our presence so blatantly. So on our march today, keep an eye for a good spring. Now let's go and cache the stuff."
First Garry measured out a two-day ration of food, dividing it among the three. The rest was then packed in a cloth flour bag that Garry had procured at the general store, showing that he had had this idea in the back of his head since they had arrived at the border. Some little distance away, a thick pine tree was located and careful observation was made so that the boys could find it easily.
Phil climbed the tree and then let down his lariat and Garry tied the bag to the end. Phil then drew it up into the tree and placed it securely in a crotch in one of the branches. This done, Phil clambered back down, remarking when he reached the ground:
"If we get a good storm it's goodbye to the sugar and flour in that bag. The stuff will just naturally melt away. If we are going to make a practice of caching the stuff, I suggest that we provide a number of tin cans with tight covers. Then it can rain on the articles for days and never hurt them a bit."
"That's a prime idea, Phil, and next time we go to town, you are delegated to provide said tins," said Garry.
"Ha, that's the time I talked myself into extra work," rejoined Phil with a laugh.
"Believe me, young man, I'll take a lesson from that and make only suggestions that won't entail extra work," chipped in Dick.
"On our way now, but first Dick, you run back to the camp and empty your canteen on the fire, and obliterate all traces of it. Then fill your canteen and rejoin us here, and we'll be off for the boundary monument," ordered Garry, thus proving himself to be a real woodsman and Ranger, never forgetting that a stray spark or ember may smoulder for some little time and perhaps start a fire thatwould sweep through the forests as though they were so much tinder.
Dick sped away to do Garry's bidding, and in a few moments was back, and the three chums started for the boundary line. This time they were able to proceed directly to it, without wasting precious time hunting for it.
Arriving at the marker, they branched out fanshaped as was their wont when they were in search of a trail or water. For some three or four miles they found nothing in the way of a well-defined trail, or even the remains of a camp, and were beginning to think the whole affair was nothing more nor less than a wild goose chase, when they were called together by a hail from Dick.
They ran speedily to him, and found him gazing at the ground.
"I don't know that what I've found amounts to a continental, but this is an old abandoned tote road, and I've found the marks of three or four different style boots, or rather, different sized boots. To my mind, it is worth following up, as there hasn't been anything yet worth while investigating except this. I wonder if our friend Dud isn't just giving us a wrong steer, or is this what he meant we should find? What say, Garry, what shall we do?"
Garry decided immediately.
"We'll follow this for a bit and see where itleads us. It may amount to nothing at all, and then again it may lead us to a real clue."
They set off down the old tote road, and after a walk of nearly an hour came upon several shacks, all boarded up, and bearing an air of desolation and abandonment.
"By golly, this is a deserted lumber camp. You remember the storekeeper told us there used to be logging operations in this vicinity? This must have been the scene of the camp, although they had quite a haul to reach the river for the drive. Let's take a look-see and find out what's here," cried Phil.
They went to the main building, that is, the largest, evidently what had been the bunkhouse for the lumberjacks, but every window was tightly boarded up. A little to one side was a smaller building, which had probably been the office and home of the camp boss and timber cruisers, who generally lived by themselves.
This, too, had a deserted and forlorn appearance. Phil's keen eyes were roving over the ground, but he found nothing to excite him till he came to the rear of the building. Here was a small door.
"Say, fellows, look at that door. It's been repaired, and only lately. You can see that someone has tried to obliterate the fact that new boards were put in. It looks as though some tramp or woods wanderer had broken in at some time, and the person or persons who have been here lately have repaired it," said Phil, dropping to his knees and examining the ground in front of the door.
"Why might not whoever has charge of this camp have fixed the door? It is very likely that when the logging operations were given up that some person in Hobart was put in charge to see that it was not destroyed, because logging can again be carried on in this section," inquired Dick.
"Why, I dope it out this way. If, as you say, there is a caretaker or an agent, it would be only natural for him to repair the broken door; but why take all the trouble to smear it with dirt and dent it a little to make it appear that it hadn't been touched? You can see that there are different woods used in the door, and the repaired part is of much newer timber. I tell you, there is some reason for this secrecy. By Jove, let's try and get in."
As he spoke, Phil ran to one of the windows. This had been boarded up from the outside, but one of the boards appeared to be loose.
"What say, Garry, shall I try and make an entrance?"
"I think under the circumstances it would be all right, since we are in search of possible evidence," replied Garry, after a moment's consideration.
Carefully inserting the edge of his axe under theloose board, Phil worked the axe handle slowly, until at last he was rewarded by the board giving way, gently withdrawing the nails with it. In a few moments more, he had a second board removed, disclosing a window. It had an ordinary lock, and opening his knife, Phil inserted the blade and soon snapped the lock back. In a few seconds the three had clambered in, and were taking stock of the interior.
Undeniably the place had been recently occupied. On the table were two bottles with the remains of candles stuck in them, while in the fireplace were the remains of a fire. A good woodsman can tell whether a fire has been made recently or not, and the boys saw at once that this was the case.
On the table was a pack of cards, thrown there evidently at the ending of a game. There were four bunks at one side of the room, and these had been cleaned out and fresh boughs were laid there, although there were no blankets.
Garry discovered a closet, and on opening it, found that there was a fair stock of provisions.
"Guess you are right, Phil. Someone is making a headquarters of the shack. It seems logical to think that they are doing so secretly, for if anyone with a right to use the place were living here, they would have removed the boards from the windows, and would have made the place a little bit morehabitable. However, we had better dust out of here, for we don't want to be surprised by anyone that happens to come along, especially whoever is using this place. Perhaps it would be a good idea to establish a watch and see who comes here. The chances are whoever uses the place comes at night, or at least in the early evening, and one might be able to get a look at them. At any rate, let's hike out," concluded Garry.
Looking around carefully to see that they left no evidence of their surrepticious visit, they went out through the window.
"Sorry there's no way to lock that window hasp again, but since the windows are evidently not used by the occupants, I don't believe it will ever be noticed," remarked Phil, as he carefully nailed the boards back in place with the back of the hatchet, being careful that his axe did not slip and leave a mark to show that the boards had been pried off.
"When it comes time to watch for the occupants, I have an idea of the proper place to keep an eye on them," said Dick, "and that is the spring. Whoever is living here must have water, and if I'm not mistaken, that's the spring over there."
Following Dick's lead, they went in the indicated direction, and sure enough, there was the spring.
"You can see fairly fresh footprints there. I wish now that we had Sandy with us," said Garry.
"Sandy" was Garry's big Airedale dog, which they had left with Nate Webster when they went off to Augusta. They had not taken him on the trip, for all those with whom they had had trouble, knew the dog, and he would call too obviously attention to the presence of the trio of Rangers.
"Let's take a look at the big bunkhouse and see if that is being used also," suggested Phil.
They returned to the long low shack, and were in search of a window from which the boards might be removed, when suddenly Garry said:
"Listen, do you hear the sound of rifle shots?"
Faintly borne on the breeze, came the sound of a distant shot.
"Probably only some youngster from town out after rabbits," said Dick. They waited for a few minutes, and then again was heard a shot, closely followed by two more.
"The forest distress signal. Some one's in trouble boys!" cried Garry excitedly.