THE NEAR-BANDITS
Yardsley glanced from one to another with a helpless expression, then
stared at the bundles of furs as if doubting that he saw aright, while
a variety of exclamations came from the astonished boys.
"Never was so beat in all my life," murmured the trapper, scratching
his head. "Honest, cap'n! Ter think of goin' off on a chase like that,
an' then findin' the hull shootin' match when we gits back."
Piper surveyed the speaker with a peculiar expression.
"And these are the furs and skins you claimed to have lost, Yardsley,"
he said, with strong emphasis.
"The identical ones, jist as they was afore."
"And how do you account for their being back on the shelves again?"
"Yer got me thar, Piper. Bless me--I don't know."
"Perhaps you will tell us that some woodland fairy boldly entered
through a crack under the door, moved her little wand, and presto--the
furs sailed through the air and landed on the shelves again--is that
it?" asked Piper, with a sarcastic smile.
"Never seen sich chaps as ye be," said Yardsley, impatiently. "How many
more times must I tell yer the joke's on me?"
"It strikes me," put in Bob Somers, quietly, "that we can soon find out
how the cabin was visited."
"Of course," laughed Dave, "they either came in through the doors or
window. Don't think we need consider the stovepipe."
"Well, the door we came in by was pad-locked, I believe," said Piper,
stiffly.
"Quite correct."
"And the window is probably fastened."
Piper led the way into the main room, and Dave tried the window.
"Correct, again," he said.
"How about the storehouse door, Yardsley?" asked Piper.
[Illustration: "HOW ABOUT THE STOREHOUSE DOOR?"]
"Wal," replied the trapper, with a faint grin, "we can't tell much from
that, mates. When them furs was taken out, the bolt was knocked
clean off. Then, not havin' nothin' of value left, I never fixed it."
"Nothing forgotten," sneered Piper.
"Hello, I believe there is another paper up there," broke in Dave
Brandon, abruptly.
"Where, Chubby?" asked Dick.
"Sticking out over that bundle!"
The poet laureate spread the paper out, started to read, then suddenly
paused.
"What's the matter?" asked Piper. He leaned over the stout boy's
shoulder. "H'm, I don't wonder you stopped," he added. "Here's what it
says, Heydon:
"'We feel sorry for the poor chump who dug, dug, dug. Oh, say--was
it a hard job? Did your back ache? After this, consider yourself
easy. Sit down and think it over.
"'The Unterrified Band of Near-Bandits.'
"That settles it," sneered Piper, wrathfully. "But we don't need to sit
down and think it over. We'll stand up and think, and tell you what we
think--of you. In the first place, Yardsley, I didn't know you wrote
such a good hand.--My compliments."
The trapper looked at the angry face of his visitor and had difficulty
in repressing a smile. "Young feller," he said, "I allow it all looks
kinder queer, an' mebbe I shouldn't blame ye, but I tell yer fur
the last time that this ain't none of my doin's, an' I want yer ter
believe--"
A series of wild war-whoops suddenly interrupted him. Then, from behind
a clump of trees, to the astonishment of all, Musgrove, Sladder and
Bowser stepped slowly forth.
The Stony Creek boys presented a strange and picturesque appearance.
Their cheeks were liberally daubed with red and white chalk; each wore
a thick bunch of goose feathers in his cap, and carried in his right
hand a club of tremendous size.
"We're the Unterrified Band of Near-Bandits!" roared Sladder, swinging
his club vigorously.
"An' ain't afear'd of nothin' that walks!" yelled Musgrove. "Ha,
ha--Pardsley won't never try no more funny tricks on us--ha, ha!"
"Ye young scamps," cried Yardsley, but there was no anger in his voice.
His eyes beamed, and he chuckled, as the "Unterrified Band" defiantly
leaned on their clubs. "Wal--wal! Paid back in me own coin, eh? It
sartingly beats all! Them two chaps hev been clean too much fur us!"
Fulmer Robson walked forward, extending his hand. "Yardsley," he said,
"please accept my apologies. Too bad that this row occurred. I hope you
have no hard feelings?"
"Not I!" replied the trapper, heartily.
"Ha, ha--look at Sniper an' Pardsley a-shakin' hands," cried Musgrove.
"Oh, ain't it a purty sight, Tim?--Hey--want us ter come over? No more
funny tricks, eh, Pardsley?" he asked suspiciously.
"Nary a thing--my word on it. All bad feelin's declared off."
The Stony Creek boys conferred together a moment, then, tightly
clutching their clubs, marched forward.
But Yardsley's good-natured smile soon dissipated their fears.
"What's that, Pardsley--who writ them notes?--Why, me pal, Tim
Sladder--he's a scholar, he is--yes, sir."
"Took a prize at school," asserted Sladder, proudly. "Keep me dad's
books. I kin spell, too, all right, you bet."
"You sartingly can," laughed Yardsley. "Now, boys, tell us how yer done
all these things, an' we'll call it square."
Billy Musgrove laughed. "Well, Pardsley, I tole yer in the fust place
ter never try no more tricks on us."
"But how my friend, the animalist, would laugh at the way yer paid me
back," said Yardsley, soothingly; "bless me, he would."
"Wal, of course, we know'd all about yer havin' the furs," said
Musgrove, "an' watched our chance ter git 'em. Tim an' me pried open
the door, took the stuff, an' hid the hull business under a pile of
hemlock boughs. Then we covered it with snow." He pointed toward a
thick copse of woods only a short distance off.
"Did yer ever hear the beat of it?" said the trapper.
"Yer own fault, Yardsley. Tim an' me puts a big rock on a sled, an'
hikes away, an' if it hadn't been fur the storm yer'd have gone a sight
further than yer did, eh, Tim?"
"Lucky for you we didn't know about it at the time," said Hackett.
"Huh!" Billy straightened up. "An' what would you an' Scummers have
did, eh?"
"Finish yer tale, lad," put in Yardsley.
"Ain't much more ter say. Tim an' me didn't think the storm would turn
out so bad, Wackett--that's honest. Anyways, we ain't a-goin' ter stay
around these parts much longer, so Tim writ that note an' fixed it on
the door. We had lots of time ter put them furs back, Pardsley, an'
mebbe yer ain't been laughed at."
"Wal," said Yardsley, "I'm powerful glad ter git them furs back, an'
jist as powerful glad that good feelin's been restored. Shake hands
with Piper, lads, an' we'll call everything all right. Let's bury the
hatchet.
"Now, fellers," added Yardsley, "I'll expect the hull crowd of yer ter
come over here to-morrer night, an' pertake of the finest feast yer
ever hearn tell of."
A unanimous chorus of assent immediately came from his hearers.