CHAPTER XVI

CHAPTER XVI

THE UNEXPECTED

THE UNEXPECTED

THE UNEXPECTED

This was both a startling and unexpected discovery. Dan gripped Billy’s arm again, enjoining silence, and the two boys crept away from the vicinity of the hollow stump.

The rosy glow above its summit—the smoke rising above the tree-tops—the warmth of the dead tree, so that the snow did not stick to it while the rough bark of the live trees was now crusted with the fast falling flakes—these facts were all to be pieced together. And the dovetailing did not take long when Dan put his mind to it!

“It’s a smokepipe—a chimney,” he whispered.

“What is?” muttered Billy, puzzled.

“That hollow stump.”

“Crickey! where’s the fire?” demanded Billy, in amazement.

“Under the ground—somewhere. There’s a cave—a den in the rocks. Somehow a smoke flue has been dug to the hollow tree——”

“If it was hot enough to reflect upon the snow above the top,” objected Billy, “the old tree would be afire.”

“Not if they had lined it with clay, and baked the clay first,” responded Dan.

“Gee, Dan! you’ve got a head!”

“I hope so,” returned Dan, laughing.

“But could the dummy have done all that——?”

“How do we know who is in the cavern?” snapped Dan. “And take it from me—it was somebody beside that dumb fellow who contrived this hide-out. These people must be outlaws of some kind, Billy—surest thing you know!”

“Of course they are—if they stole our boat,” agreed Billy.

“We don’t know who they are,” said Dan, thoughtfully. “And we don’t know how to get into their camp, anyway. Goodness, Billy! maybe we’ll wish wedidknow, even if they are pretty tough citizens. Where are we going to find shelter in this blizzard?”

The storm was increasing mightily. The snow drove down through the branches with a startled “sh-sh-sh.” This drowned even the whining of the wind through the taller tree-tops.

The boys made little sound as they moved about, for the snow deadened every other noise. They stood together for some moments without speaking.

To be out in such a time as this was neither pleasant nor safe. The cold was stinging, and one might easily freeze to death on such a night. Even the idea of being covered up in the snow was no comfortable thought, although they might remain thus sheltered till morning without any serious injury. Many times Dan and Billy had uncovered their sheep after a serious snowstorm, and the lads knew that a snowdrift was porous and the heat of the body thus mantled would keep them from freezing.

“Besides,” whispered Dan, at last, “we can find our way down to the boat again, and cover ourselves with a part of the sail.”

“But how about this dummy?” muttered Billy. “Suppose he’s alone? I believe he’d give us shelter.”

“We’ll look,” agreed Dan. “But for goodness sake be careful.”

“How are we going about it, Dan?”

“Round and round. Take that hollow stump for the center. We’ll circle around until we find the entrance to his den.”

“But Lettie and I were all over this island,” objected Billy.

“You didn’t know what you were looking for; did you?”

“Humph! I suppose not.”

“Now we know,” chuckled Dan. “We’re looking for a hole in the ground where there is a fire. Goodness! won’t it be fine to be warm again?”

For the boys were badly chilled by now. Billy could scarcely keep his teeth from chattering.

From where they stood the boys could dimly see the black trunk of the hollow tree which Dan believed was the chimney of the mysterious den in the rocks.

“You go one way; I’ll go the other. Don’t lose sight of the tree,” advised the older Speedwell.

They separated. The snow sifted down so thickly that it was not long before they lost sight of each other. It was no easy matter to get about among the boulders and roughage of the hillside. Big rocks cropped out in places; and there were many stumps, and masses of vines and bushes to trip them. That all these obstructions were pretty well masked in the fallen snow made the going all the harder.

Billy had every confidence in his brother’s judgment; and it did seem as though Dan must be right about the cave and the strange chimney connected with it. Somewhere underneath where they trod was a warm hollow, sheltering, perhaps, only the boy whom they called “Dummy.” If he was alone, Billy was sure he would give Dan and himself shelter.

But they wanted to be sure of that. Billy wasn’t desirous of “mixing in” with those three masked robbers who had treated old John Bromley so roughly.

And so thinking, as he crept on over the higher part of the island above the hollow stump, Billy suddenly stepped right out into space. At least, so it seemed. He put his foot upon a bank of snow, and “slumped right in”!

The snow had treacherously filled a narrow cut between two boulders. Billy dropped to his chin in the soft, cold mass, and then found that he was wedged so tightly that he couldn’t get out.

He dared not shout to Dan.Thatmight be their undoing indeed. If there were men about whom they must perforce consider enemies, Billy was determined not to bring them out here.

So he struggled, and panted, and wrenched himself from side to side, and tried his very best to seize upon the edge of the rock above him and draw his body up. All to no purpose!

He was just as much a prisoner as though he were bound with cords. The snow was fast drifting over him, too. Billy was already badly chilled, and the thought of being covered completely by the snow made him shake all the more.

Indeed, he was in a bad way. He was too courageous to yell for his brother and thus run the risk of attracting others in the neighborhood; but it did seem to Billy as though he were doomed to be smothered, standing erect between the two rocks.

Above the imperilled boy the snow whirled in ghostly forms. Like shrouded figures of lost spirits the snow drifted through the open grove, passing the frightened lad in a dreary procession. The “sh-sh-sh” of the falling flakes seemed now like an actual voice.

There came a white figure more certain in its outlines than the others. Billy struggled to raise himself again, his lips parted, tempted to shriek. The figure came nearer.

“Goodness gracious! what’s the matter with you?” gasped Dan’s anxious voice. “I’ve been hunting for you everywhere.”

“Crickey! is that you, Dannie?” returned Billy. “I thought I was done for.”

“Why didn’t you yell?” demanded Dan, laying hold of his brother’s wrists.

“And start something, maybe?”

“Well! you plucky young duffer,” exclaimed Dan, in some pride. “Now! out you come!”

Billy lay panting at his feet for some moments. Dan examined the hole into which his brother had fallen.

“Don’t suppose that’s a way into the den, do you?”

“So—solid under my feet, Dan,” gasped Billy. “That’s no entrance, I bet.”

“Come on, then. We’ll keep together this time. Haven’t found a sign of the way in yet.”

They took a wider circle about the hollow stump. Stumbling on, arm in arm (for Billy was getting exhausted, although he would not own up to it), the Speedwells made another complete round without discovering anything.

The way was so rough that it was impossible to recall just where the hollow stump stood. The boys had reached the bottom of the hill and the shore of the island was near at hand. But in that direction they could see but a short distance. The snow was like a thick curtain before their eyes.

“Crickey, Dan!” groaned Billy. “We’ve lost it.”

“Oh, I guess the old stump hasn’t moved,” said Dan, cheerfully. “It’s up yonder—somewhere!”

At that moment they again caught sight of the rosy glow in the tree-tops. “See!” exclaimed Dan. “More heat. Jingo! that must be a great draft.”

“They must have some way of shutting off the draft, and then opening it again,” said Billy, in a puzzled tone. “There! it’s gone.”

“I’ve got it” exclaimed Dan, suddenly. “I bet that’s a forge.”

“A forge?” repeated Billy, in wonder.

“They’d want a tall chimney for a forge on account of needing a strong draft,” declared Dan. “That’s what it is.”

“But a forge in a cave?” queried his brother, doubtfully. “What for?”

“Ah! that’s another question,” returned Dan. “I don’t see that far, yet.”

But in secret Dan believed he had guessed the business of the men who had once, at least, occupied the cave, whether they were there now, or not. He said nothing to Billy about this, however.

The younger boy had stumbled into a heap of split wood. Dummy—or somebody else—had spent some time in preparing a great heap of fuel against just such a storm as this that now raged over the valley of the Colasha.

“And Dan,” whispered Billy, eagerly, “wouldn’t he have his woodpile pretty near to the door of the cave? What do you think?”

“I think you’ve got a good head on you,” returned Dan, promptly. “Let’s go careful here.”

Right at hand was a thick, low clump of bushes. The snow was heaped upon and into this brush, until it was waist high, only the tops of the bushes sticking out.

And, strangely enough, there seemed to be a narrow path, crooked as a ram’s horn, but quite plain—through the midst of this brush-clump.

“Look, there!” exclaimed the watchful Dan. “Leads right to the steep side of that rock. Come on.”

“But there’s no way of getting through that big boulder!” gasped Billy.

“Under it, perhaps,” ventured Dan.

He stooped as he spoke and tossed the snow aside. He got below the interlocked branches of the bushes, and knelt upon the stony ground. Therewasa sort of a tunnel under the brush. The ground was packed hard.

“By the paws of some wild animal that must have used this runway once,” whispered Dan. “It leads to his den.”

“I hope it isn’t at home,” chattered Billy.

“But there will be somebody else at home—sure! Come on—softly.”

In half a minute the two boys, Dan ahead, and both on hands and knees, had crept to the foot of the huge rock that seemed so impassable from a little distance.

Underneath the foot of the boulder, however, was a narrow passage entering the hillside. Without doubt it had once been the lair of a wild animal.

But Dan and Billy did not apprehend the appearance of any such tenant of the hollow in the hillside. It was long since any dangerous animal had been seen in the woods about Riverdale.

And it was man that had built the fire. The two boys crept a little way into the passage and listened. In a moment they heard a high pitched voice—a voice shrieking, it seemed, in pain and fright. But the words—if words the person uttered—were quite unintelligible.

“What d’ye know about that?” whispered Billy, forgetting at once his own misfortunes. “There’s trouble up there——”

Again and again the shrieks echoed down the passage. Then followed the rough tones of a deeper voice. The man spoke in anger—there was no doubt of that—and instantly the shriller voice cried out again.

CHAPTER XVII

IN THE DEN

IN THE DEN

IN THE DEN

“It’s the dummy!” Dan exclaimed, in an awed voice.

“He’s in trouble,” agreed the trembling Billy. “Whatever will we do? There! hear him?”

“I wish we had a gun,” muttered his brother.

“What for?”

“We’re going to get into a fight in about half a minute,” Dan declared. “That is—if we stay here.”

“Let’s get out then,” said Billy. “Whatever it is——”

Again the piercing cries of the unfortunate dummy broke out.

“My goodness! I can’t stand that,” gasped Dan.

“Can we help him—do you think we can?” demanded Billy. “But let’s not get into trouble ourselves——”

Again the shrieks. Dan scrambled forward up the passage, with Billy right after him. The boys could not remain quiet when a helpless human being was being tortured.

In a few moments they came out into a roomy cavity. The roof was high and dome-shaped. At the far side was a huge fireplace of rock and mortar, with a forge set into one side of it. There was a fire of charcoal in the forge as well as a heap of burning cordwood on the wide hearth.

At a glance the boys saw the whole picture. There were three rough looking men. Both Dan and Billy believed they were those who had robbed them of theFollow Meand had so ill-treated old John Bromley. But they were not masked now.

Two were holding the wildly shrieking lad the Speedwells knew as Dummy. The noise the unfortunate boy made drowned that made by the Speedwells in getting into the cave.

The back of the third man was toward the entrance. He was in command. “Give him another taste of it!” he ordered, just as Dan and Billy scrambled to their feet.

At once the other two swung the screaming boy up, and held the calves of his legs over the glowing coal on the forge.

The sight was too much for Dan Speedwell. He let out a yell, picked up a heavy stick of wood and charged the men. One he brought down at his first blow.

They dropped the dummy, who fell partly in the fire, screaming and struggling. He overturned the forge as he fell. The two other men sprang at Dan.

Billy had found a shovel. He used this with good effect upon one of the men; but the other got Dan down and was choking him on the floor of the smoke-filled cavern.

“Come on, Dummy! Help us!” shouted Billy, whanging away with his shovel.

But either the scorched boy was too hurt, or too frightened, to assist those who had come to his rescue. Dan and Billy had all the fighting to do themselves.

And they had a very poor chance when the three men recovered from their surprise. The one first knocked down rose, kicked the weeping dummy out of the way, and dived for Billy with a roar of rage.

He tore the shovel out of the boy’s hands and hit poor Billy just once across the shoulders. It nearly knocked the wind out of the lad and he staggered across the cave and fell against the wall.

Dan was by this time overpowered. The fight was over almost as soon as it had begun.

“What d’ye know about these kids buttin’ in this way?” demanded one of the roughs. “Ought to give ’em both a taste of the fire, too.”

“No! go easy!” advised the man who seemed to be the leader, in a cautious tone. “There must be somebody else near.”

“Why so?”

“These kids wouldn’t have been ’way out here alone. Maybe we’re in bad, boys——”

But a cry from the third man stopped the other’s mouth. The excited individual was hauling away the broken forge.

“Here we were trying to find out from Dummy where the box was hid, an’ here she be! Look a’ here, boys! What d’ye know about this?”

The others left Dan and Billy where they lay and rushed to the fireplace. Under the legs of the forge had been a loose stone in the hearth. One of the fellows pried it up. A cavity was revealed.

“We’ve got it! we’ve got it!” yelled one of the men.

“Shut up, I tell you!” exclaimed the leader of the three. “I tell you there must be somebody on this island besides these kids.”

“Aw, don’t be so scared, Tom. The kids just butted in. Friends of Dummy, proberly. Didn’t know no better.”

“They’ll know better now,” grumbled the cautious one. “We gotter beat it.”

“You bet,” agreed one of his fellows.

Meanwhile two of the men were lifting out what the hollow under the hearthstone contained. This was a heavy box, some two feet square, bound with iron bands, and padlocked.

“Knock off the lock and let’s see ’em!” exclaimed the more excitable fellow.

“No, we won’t,” declared the leader. “We gotter beat it.”

“How’ll we get away in this storm?”

“The wind’s all right. We can get away just the way we come—sure.”

“And these kids?” growled the other, eyeing the panting and bruised Speedwell boys with much disfavor.

“Leave ’em here with Dummy.”

“They’ll set the officers after us in short order.”

“Not if these two lads were foolish enough to come here to the island alone,” growled the first speaker.

“Huh! Going to tie ’em up—eh?”

“You bet. And Dummy, too. They can stop here a while and be company for each other,” and the fellow laughed in anything but a comforting way.

Dan and Billy were badly frightened, whether the dummy was, or not. The latter nursed his scorched legs in one corner. The Speedwell boys lay side by side in another. There wasn’t the first chance for them to escape, and the brothers knew it.

“We butted in where we had no call to, this time,” muttered Billy, in despair.

They had not long to wait. The three robbers had come to the island for just one thing, and they had found it. Whatever was in the padlocked box, they seemed delighted to have it.

Dan had joked about there being treasure buried on the island; but that is exactly what there was—so Billy thought. Dummy had been left to guard it, and was to show the hidden box to somebody. But these three ruffians were not the people who had any right to it.

This was easy to understand. And Dummy, although he had screamed and would not put up a fight, was brave in his way. He had suffered torture rather than show these men where the box had lain.

Now two of the fellows seized him once more, and the poor chap screamed again. They only bound him, however—but they bound him so tightly that he had good reason to cry out.

It was so with Dan and Billy, in turn, as well. At wrists and ankles the three boys were lashed with strong fishline, that cut into the flesh. It was impossible to stretch their bonds at all without lacerating their wrists and ankles.

Dan and Billy were thankful the scoundrels did not gag them as they had John Bromley earlier in the evening. Yet, who would hear them shout down here in the bowels of the island?

They saw the three men leave the cave, dragging the heavy box with them. One of them came back after a moment, made sure for the last time that the bonds of the trio of captives were all right, and then he, too, disappeared.

The boys were alone in the cavern.

CHAPTER XVIII

AN EVENING DRIVE

AN EVENING DRIVE

AN EVENING DRIVE

Although the weather had been threatening all day, Mildred Kent went over to Lettie Parker’s house after supper, as she had promised. There had been no school for several days, but the girls were just as busy as Dan and Billy Speedwell. They were hard at work finishing certain Christmas presents.

To tell the truth, Lettie’s present was for Billy Speedwell, and was a handsome silk scarf—thick and warm—that the bronze-haired girl had been at work on for several days. Now her nimble fingers flew as she sat and gossiped with the doctor’s daughter. Meanwhile the latter was completing the initials “D. S.” she was embroidering in the corners of six very handsome handkerchiefs.

“And there’s another thing, Milly,” Lettie was saying, “that I want to see Billy about. There’s something going on up at Island Number One, and they say Dan and Billy know about it.”

“What do you mean?” asked Mildred, calmly.

“Something queer. You know what the boys said about that fellow they call ‘Dummy’?”

“Oh, yes.”

“Well, Sheriff Kimball told my father that the Speedwells are at the island a good deal, and that the dumb boy is a member of a gang of outlaws. Now, what do you think ofthat?”

“What nonsense!” exclaimed Mildred, her eyes very big and round.

“It’s not nonsense at all. I’m telling you the truth,” said the bronze-haired young lady, sharply.

“Of course. I don’t mean that you are not telling the truth. But this sheriff must be crazy to believe that Dan and Billy would know any outlaws. What kind of outlaws?”

“I’m sure I don’t know. But Sheriff Kimball has been twice to see father about it. Dan and Billy are bound to get into trouble if they don’t look out.”

“How ridiculous. I don’t believe there is anybody on the island.”

“We saw that dummy ourselves,” declared Lettie, her lips pursed.

“But you went all over the island with Billy afterward. You didn’t find any hiding place.”

“The sheriff says it’s there. He has reason to know, he states. There was some man—so he says—who broke with the outlaws and ‘turned State’s evidence,’ he calls it. Sheriff Kimballsays he has been waiting for two months for this boy who can’t talk very well to come and see him. The man who confessed said he would send all the evidence by this dummy. And you know he was at Billy’s house and the boys never told the sheriff——”

“Why should they?” demanded Mildred, startled.

“Well, you know what the boys said about finding a slip of paper after the dummy went away, and what was written on the paper? It said: ‘Buried on the island. Dummy will show you the spot.’ Sheriff Kimball says that doubtless referred to the evidence Harry Biggin meant him to have.”

“Harry Biggin?”

“That’s the name of the man who broke with the outlaws and is helping the officers get the crowd.”

“He’s an informer,” asserted Mildred, with scorn.

“But that doesn’t help the matter any. If Dan and Billy have foolishly got themselves mixed up in it——”

“Mixed up inwhat?” demanded Mildred, with some heat. To Mildred Kent’s mind it was impossible that Dan Speedwell could ever be in any real trouble—that is, trouble that came about through his not being “perfectly straight.” Billy, perhaps, might be foolish; but never Dan!

Just as she spoke there was a jingling of sleigh bells at the door of the Parker house. There had been little sleighing this winter, save on the river; but a couple of days before, a trifle of snow had fallen—enough to crust the Riverdale streets and the drives in and out of the town.

“Here’s Mr. Kimball now—I do believe!” cried Lettie, jumping up and running to a front window. “Yes! he said he was going up the river to the Biggin place, and he’d stop for father——”

“This Harry Biggin,” said Mildred, suddenly. “Is he one of those farmers on the other side of the river?”

“Yes. They own that big place near Meadville, only on the other bank.”

“And he says Dan and Billy are connected with robbers—or outlaws—or something——”

“I never said so!”

“I’m going to ask Mr. Kimball what he means, then,” said Mildred, firmly, and putting aside her work she arose and went quickly to the hall door.

Mr. Parker was welcoming the sheriff at the door. The latter was a tall, thin and wiry man, dressed in a long gray ulster belted at the waist. If old John Bromley could have seen him hewould have immediately recognized the man he had driven away from his dock while the Speedwells were trying out their new motor-iceboat.

“Hullo!” said the jolly county clerk. “It’s only my girl and her chum. How are you, Milly?” and he pinched the cheek of the doctor’s daughter.

But Mildred was too anxious to be anything but direct. “Oh! I beg your pardon, sir,” she said, to the man in the ulster. “But are you the sheriff?”

“Of course he is!” chuckled Mr. Parker. “Have you some mysterious evidence you want to put before him——”

“That’s just what she’s got, Dad!” cried Lettie, giggling.

“I’ll be glad to take up any case Miss Mildred has to offer,” said the county official, his eyes twinkling.

“It isn’t that. I want to know about Dan and Billy Speedwell. Theycan’thave done anything wrong——”

“There it is again, Kimball,” exclaimed the county clerk, slapping the sheriff on the shoulder. “You start anything about Dan and Billy in this neighborhood, and even the girls will be after you.”

“But what’s their game up there at the island?”

“They have no game there,” said Mildred, with a very determined look.

“And at that old fellow’s wharf up the river. I’m not known much around that section. I’m from the other end of the county, and having only been in office six months, everybody doesn’t know I’m sheriff,” and Mr. Kimball laughed.

“To-day I was watching Island Number One for—well, for a reason. I saw those two boys racing over there in a most marvelous iceboat run by a motor——”

“Oh, jolly!” exclaimed Lettie, breaking in. “They’ve built the new boat, then.”

“Wait, Kimball,” interposed Mr. Parker. “Tell the girls something more. I can see Mildred is interested.”

“She is if you are going to arrest Billy and Dan Speedwell,” laughed Lettie, who was just as full of fun as her father, and was not above teasing her chum on occasion.

“Well, I tell you!” exclaimed the sheriff, smiling. “I’m in a hurry. The Biggins, like all farmer folk, go to bed early, and I hear that Harry has dared creep home again and may be there to-night. I’m in a hurry, as I say; but I’ve got a two-seated sleigh here, and plenty of robes, and about the fastest pair of horses in this county—raised ’em myself. What say if we all—you, too, Parker—drive up the river, and on the way I’ll explain how the Speedwells seem to be mixed up with the Steinforth counterfeiting gang.”

“The Steinforth counterfeiters?” gasped Mr. Parker. “That’s more than you’ve told me before, Kimball.”

“Yes. But it seems we have about got things to a head now. Something is going to break soon, and I’ll risk talking a little. Want to go, Parker?”

“We’ll go,” said Mr. Parker, looking at the girls. “Just ’phone your mother, Milly, that you are going sleighing with me.”

“That’s all right,” said the sheriff, with a boyish laugh, and he ran out to spread the robes for the girls in the rear seat. Not a flake of snow had fallen yet, but the night was starless, and the wind cut sharply.

They got under way in ten minutes. The black horses were young and they had been standing in the stable behind Appleyard’s all day, and were very restive. The girls squealed a little as they clipped the corners going down to the open ice.

From River Street a path had been made down to the shore. It was an easy slant and the runners of the sleigh fairly pushed the horses on their haunches.

“Easy, boys!nowwe have it!” cried the sheriff, coaxingly. He handled the colts as though he loved them, and they tossed their heads, and pricked their ears forward, and seemed to know that he would let them out in a minute and give them a chance to show their mettle.

Their shoes had just been sharpened, and when they clattered out upon the clear ice they left little marks every time their dancing hoofs landed.

That did not seem to be often, at the pace they took when first Mr. Kimball let them out. They whipped the sleigh behind them as though it was of a feather’s weight. The two little lamps—one set at each side of the dash—sent twinkling, narrow rays of yellow light along the ice, glistening on each little imperfection. It seemed as though where the light fell a trail of stardust had been laid.

But there were no other lights upon the ice. With the keen wind blowing stronger, none of the boats were out from the Boat Club cove where all but the Speedwells’ craft were kept. And there were few skaters out on the river to-night.

For several miles—until they had swung past the lower end of Island Number One, indeed—Mr. Kimball had no chance for much talk. The girls were delighted with the drive now.

“It’s almost as good as being on the boys’ ice yacht,” declared Lettie.

“And now, what about the Speedwells and this Steinforth counterfeiting gang, Kimball?” demanded Mr. Parker, laying a hand upon the sheriff’s arm.

CHAPTER XIX

LOST IN THE BLIZZARD

LOST IN THE BLIZZARD

LOST IN THE BLIZZARD

“I’ve got nothing against the lads,” explained the sheriff, sitting sideways on the front seat after bringing the horses down to a more quiet pace, and speaking so the girls on the back seat could hear him. “But some things I have heard make me suspicious.”

“They seem to have had something to do with a boy called ‘the Dummy’—he’s been to their house, you know. You told me so yourself, Parker.”

Mildred flashed Lettie a sharp glance and the red-haired girl had the grace to blush. So it had beenherchattering to her father of what the Speedwell boys had told them about the island, and Dummy, that had set the sheriff to looking up Dan and Billy.

“This dummy seems to be the important link in our case against Steinforth and his co-operators. Most of the gang were arrested months ago by the Federal officers. But the engraving plates they worked from and a lot of finished notes, as well as a coiner’s outfit, were cached by the outlaws before their arrest.”

“Now, this Biggin, and the dummy, who is his nephew——”

“Oh! is hereallydumb?” cried Lettie, curiously.

“No. Dreadfully tongue-tied, I believe. A good person to trust a secret to, for he couldn’t tell it easily,” and the sheriff laughed.

“But is the poor boy really a criminal?” asked Mildred, faintly.

“Why—as to that——No! I fancy he is attached to Biggin. And Biggin was never really a member of Steinforth’s gang. Biggin drinks—that’s his failing. He used to go off into the woods on lonesome sprees. That’s how he fell in with the counterfeiting gang, he told me.

“Well, when the Federal officers got close on the trail of the outlaws they hid the plates and other things I mentioned, and sort of left Biggin in charge of the camp. But at once all the sheriffs in the State got busy. There’s a good, big reward offered for the discovery of the evidence the authorities need to convict the gang.

“After Biggin talked with me, he got scared. He wrote me he’d send the dummy to lead me to the place where the plates, and so forth, were cached. But he never came to me—the dummy didn’t, I mean.

“Now, what you tell me, Parker, about the Speedwells meeting and being friendly with Biggin’s nephew, has made me suspicious——”

“I’m sorry if it made you suspicious of Dan and Billy,” said the county clerk. “No need.”

“That may be. But they go out to that island—and I believe the dummy is on the island part of the time. It may be, from what you tell me about the paper the Speedwells say he dropped, that the engraving plates and the other stuff is hidden on that Island Number One.”

“You haven’t any reason to suspect Dan and Billy, just the same,” declared Mildred, promptly.

Both the sheriff and Mr. Parker laughed. “Now, don’t you put me in your bad books, Miss Milly,” begged Sheriff Kimball. “I don’t mean to cause the boys any trouble. I am hoping to-night to catch Harry Biggin and make him talk plainly. That’s the object of this trip—although it is a pleasure to take you young ladies for a drive,” and he laughed again.

He spoke to the horses then, and the blacks switched their tails and “let out a notch” in their speed. They seemed as eagerly desirous of covering the distance to the Biggin farm in a short time as their master.

The girls cowered down behind the high back of the front seat, and so had the wind broken for them. But it was awfully cold. Now and then a flake of snow slanted down upon them, and thegirls’ shoulders were nicely powdered before the sheriff turned the horses’ heads toward the far side of the river, and they found an easily sloping bit of bank up which they could drive.

This was beyond the last of the string of islands, and the lights of Meadville—on the other bank—were in sight. Just ahead, as the horses struggled into a well traveled highway, where the runners gritted on the half-bare ground, was a lamp in a window.

“Biggin’s place,” said the sheriff. “And the folks are up yet.”

The snow was gathering by this time, for it had taken them more than two hours to drive from Riverdale, spry as the horses had been. And, without doubt, the blacks were glad of the breathing spell promised them when the sheriff drove directly under the wind-shelter beside the farmhouse. This shed offered a warm spot even to the guests the sheriff had brought.

“Don’t want to take you to the house till I find out how the land lies,” he whispered, handing the reins to Mr. Parker, and slipping out from under the robe.

“O-o-o! doesn’t it make you feel de-lic-ious-ly shivery?” whispered Lettie to the doctor’s daughter. “Just like being on a regular man-hunt with the sheriff? We’re his posse.”

“Goosey!” returned Mildred. “I’m on the point of shivering, all right. But only from cold.”

“Are you well wrapped up, girls?” asked the county clerk.

“Oh, yes, sir,” answered Mildred. “And the bricks are still warm at our feet. But I’m afraid it’s going to snow dreadfully hard.”

“What’s a little snow?” demanded the careless Lettie. “Who’s afraid?”

“I wouldn’t want to be caught out on the river in a heavy storm—would you, sir?” asked Mildred of Mr. Parker.

“It’s a straight road home,” said the gentleman, quite as careless as his daughter. “The river ought to be better than the road, as far asthatgoes.”

“But just suppose we got turned around in this snow?” Mildred objected, turning her head to watch the flakes falling thicker every moment. “Didyou ever see it snow so hard, Lettie?”

“Lots of times—sure. Don’t be a ’fraid cat, Milly.”

The doctor’s daughter kept her fears to herself thereafter. Mr. Parker produced a vacuum bottle filled with hot milk. He had been thoughtful enough to supply himself with that before leaving the house for this long ride. The hot drink helped the girls immensely.

“Now I can stand anything,” declared Lettie, happily. “When are we going to be called into action by the sheriff, Pa?”

“Hedoesseem a long time; doesn’t he?” returned her father, as the horses stamped, and shook their heads, and tinkled the bells on the harness.

Finally they heard a door shut, and in a moment Sheriff Kimball appeared. He looked pretty serious in the light of the sleigh lamps.

“What do you know about that?” he said, crossly. “They swear Harry hasn’t been here, and invited me to search the house for him. And I did it, too. I’ve got it in for that boy, when Idocatch him. He’s only scared; but he knows more hide-outs in the wild country between here and Barnegat than anybody else. He’s run wild in the woods most of his life.

“He left a message for me, though. Tells me to go to Island Number One and see the dummy. Now, I’ve been there—twice. I couldn’t find hide nor hair of that boy either time.”

“We might stop going back?” suggested Mr. Parker.

“I mean to. But, I declare! it’s come on to snow hard.”

“Oh, a little snow won’t hurt us. We’re neither sugar nor salt,” cried Lettie. “And chasing outlaws is awfully interesting,” and she giggled again, seeing her chum’s serious face.

“I guess we won’t wait long at that island to-night,” observed Sheriff Kimball, when he had backed the sleigh out of the shed and got the impatient horses headed around again.

“Will you go back by the river, or the road?” asked Mr. Parker.

“Oh, the river. This road is half bare yet, you see,” as the runners scraped over a “sand-bar.” “We’ll slip along on the ice twice as fast, you know. Come up, Dandy! Steady, Poke!”

The blacks got into step and they spun away along the short stretch of road and then down upon the river. At first they did not realize how hard the wind was blowing, being sheltered to a degree by the high bank. But when Mr. Kimball headed out into the middle of the stream, intending to cross to the Riverdale side of the river, the travelers quickly discovered that they were in the heart of a severe storm.

“Some blow—eh?” shouted Mr. Parker, into the sheriff’s ear.

“This is a bad storm, Parker. I—had—no—idea——”

He was having trouble with his spirited team. The gusts of wind which drove the snow down upon them, fired the blacks with a desire to run. They ran in the right direction for a while; but soon they were winded, for the sleigh pulled heavily through the gathering drifts.

There were flaws in the gale. Suddenly the wind shifted from point to point of the compass. The two men could not see a light upon either bank of the river. Indeed, before long it was difficult to know whether the horses were dragging them down the stream, or up.

The snow fell faster and faster. The girls, locked in each other’s arms on the rear seat, were covered with a fresh blanket. They did not know that the men in front robbed themselves to do this.

The cold was penetrating—horribly so! Now and then a swirling, whirling eddy of wind and snow fell upon the sleigh, the horses, and all, and well nigh turned them around. The men were choked by the storm; the horses snorted and plunged, and were able to move on but slowly.

“Dickens of a mess we’ve got into, Kimball!” shouted Parker in the sheriff’s ear.

“I’m sorry I ever suggested taking these children with us. It’s awful, Parker,” said the worried sheriff.

At that instant there came a sudden lull in the storm. The wind fell, and the soft “sh-sh-sh” of the snow seemed rather soothing. But there was a sharper sound discernible, now that the tempest was lulled.

“Put! put! put-a-put!”

“What d’ye know about that?” cried the county clerk, seizing the sheriff’s arm. “It’s a motor—what?”

“It is. It’s that motor-iceboat. I heard it to-day when the Speedwells were trying it out.”

“Then it’s Dan and Billy,” declared Mr. Parker. “Well, now! what do you think of that? Out on the river in such a storm. Shall we shout to them?”

“My goodness, do!” cried Lettie, poking her head over the back of the seat. “If Billy Speedwell is out there, he’ll know the way home—sure. Let’sallshout, Pa!”

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