NEW COMPLICATIONS
Not until the following morning did the boys have a chance to discuss
the happenings of the previous night. Over the breakfast table, Dick was
the cynosure of two hostile pair of eyes—those of Sandy and Toma. It was
quite evident that Dick’s chums were not satisfied with the outcome of
the night’s adventures. Sandy, in particular, could scarcely contain
himself. He kept glowering at his friend over his coffee and bacon, and
Dick could see that a lecture was forthcoming. However, Sandy did not
get his chance until nearly an hour later, when the three boys left the
dining room for a turn in the open air. Scarcely were they outside, when
Sandy broke forth petulantly:
“Look here, Dick, I must say that you followed out our agreement to the
letter. What did you mean by crying out like that, after it had been
decided to let Frischette walk away with the money?”
“But it wasn’t Frischette,” Dick defended himself.
“Wasn’t Frischette. What do you mean? Of course, it was Frischette. I
saw him with my own eyes.”
“It was Creel.”
“Creel!”
“Yes, that fellow who took the box from the Frenchman yesterday.”
Sandy whistled softly.
“So that’s their game. Creel is Frischette’s confederate. I can see it
all now.”
“That’s the way I have it all figured out too. Frischette is the man who
plans all the robberies and Creel is the one who executes them.”
Dick paused and leaned against the trunk of a huge jack-pine,
contemplatively regarding his two chums.
“It means we have two persons instead of one to deal with. The
treasure-box they keep between them. Each probably has an equal interest
in it. I wish there was some way we could get hold of it.”
“Mebbe that not be so very hard,” Toma suddenly interjected. “One night
we go over to Creel’s cabin an’ find it sure. I think I know how we get
it without much trouble.”
“How?” demanded Sandy.
“You remember yesterday when Frischette come close to Creel’s cabin he
stop in the brush an’ make ’em noise for him to come out. Well, one of
us do same like that while other two hide close to cabin. When Creel
come out, thinking it Frischette, good chance go get box. What you say?”
“A good plan, certainly,” criticised Dick, “only how are we going to
imitate that peculiar, mysterious whistle. I’m sure I couldn’t.”
“I couldn’t either,” declared Sandy.
Toma put two fingers to his mouth and blew softly. It was an excellent
imitation of the sound the boys had heard on the previous day, and both
Dick and Sandy clapped their hands in delight.
“You’re good!” Sandy exclaimed. “I’m proud of you. How can you manage to
do it, after hearing it only once?”
“I hear it many times,” flushed the young Indian. “You see, there is
bird that hide deep in the woods that make ’em call like that.
Frischette, jus’ like me, try make sound like that bird.”
“We’ll go tonight,” exulted Dick.
The other two nodded in agreement.
“Ten o’clock will be a good time,” Sandy suggested. “Dick and I will
enter the cabin, while you, Toma, practice your wiles upon the thieving
Mr. Creel. Lead him away from the cabin as far as you can, so that we’ll
have plenty of time to look around. We may have some trouble in finding
the place where he has hid the box.”
The boys had worked themselves up to a high pitch of excitement long
before the time appointed for setting out on their night’s adventure. In
order not to arouse Frischette’s suspicions, should he discover their
absence, they had informed him that they were planning to go over to
Lake Grassy Point, a distance of about eight miles, and visit the Indian
encampment there. Fontaine and Le Sueur, they explained, would accompany
them too, and he, Frischette, must not worry if they were late in
getting back.
To their surprise, the arrangement met with the Frenchman’s immediate
approval.
“Et ees good you go,” he told them. “You young fellow get ver’ tired
stay one place all ze time.” Then he sighed regretfully. “Ver’ often I
weesh I might be young too. Always go, always have good time. Et ees ze
great fun, monsieurs.”
Dick’s brow contracted thoughtfully. Did Frischette contemplate a visit
to Creel himself? Had the Frenchman a plan of his own?
“Just our luck,” Dick told Sandy a few minutes later, “if the old rascal
decides to visit Creel tonight. We’ve gone to a lot of trouble already.”
The young Scotchman slapped irritably at a mosquito that had lit upon
his arm.
“Yes, it was necessary to take Fontaine and Le Sueur more or less into
our confidence. That’s one phase of the thing I don’t like. Those two
friends of Toma’s know we’re up to something. All I hope is, that
they’ll have sense enough to keep their mouths shut. If Frischette ever
gets an inkling that we’re watching him, the game’s up.”
“But Fontaine and Le Sueur haven’t the least idea what we purpose to
do,” said Dick. “Neither one of them knows that we’re spying upon
Frischette.”
“Yes, but they’ll think it’s queer that we’re deceiving him. They’ll
wonder why we have lied to him, want them to go to the encampment while
we remain behind.”
“You don’t need to worry about that, Sandy. You may depend upon it that
Toma has made our proposed actions seem very plausible.”
Sandy grinned.
“Toma probably has told them a wonderful story. I’ll agree with you
there. He certainly possesses a keen imagination.”
Dick consulted his watch.
“It’s twenty minutes past nine now. I think, Sandy, we’d better go back
to the house and find Toma and the others. It’ll be time to start before
long.”
They hurried along the path, and a few minutes later entered the house,
where they were joined by Toma and his two friends. Soon afterward,
Frischette strode into the room, carrying his coat and hat.
“I go with you a leetle way,” he announced. “All day long I work in ze
kitchen, where et ees hot. I think ze night air mebbe make me feel
good.”
Dick glanced sharply across at Sandy, keen disappointment depicted in
his gaze. The Frenchman’s announcement had taken him completely by
surprise. The situation was awkward.
“Why not come all the way to the encampment with us,” invited Dick.
“We’ll be glad to have you.”
Frischette threw up his hands in a gesture of dismay.
“All zat way! Empossible! Et ees too far, monsieur. I am too tired.
Eight miles there an’ back an’ ze brush tangle in my poor tired legs.
No, I will go only a ver’ short way.”
So Frischette, much to the boys’ disappointment, accompanied them. He
chatted as they walked, continually gesturing, often stopping abruptly
in his tracks to point out some inconsequential object.
Never before had Dick been given so excellent an opportunity to study
the man. He was slightly amused at the Frenchman’s queer antics. He
would become intensely enthusiastic over the merest trifles—a bright
flower, a sparkling stone, a gnarled, misshapen tree.
A person of moods and impulses, Dick decided, watching him. Sometimes he
wondered if Frischette were not assuming a certain behavior for their
special benefit. What was his real purpose in coming with them?
Certainly it was not because he really wanted the exercise and fresh
air. More likely, he intended to go over to visit Creel.
Their course to Grassy Point Lake led them in the general direction of
Creel’s cabin. When the Frenchman bade them adieu and turned back, Dick
estimated that they had still about two miles farther to go before they
would be directly opposite the abiding place of the mysterious recluse.
Realizing this, his previous conviction that Frischette was really going
there became shaken. Perhaps, after all, the road-house keeper had told
the truth, was actually going back as he said.
Even if the man planned to strike off obliquely through the woods to
Creel’s, hope of obtaining possession of the box was not altogether
lost. They might still turn the trick that same night, if only they
hurried. By running part of the way, they would arrive at the cabin
sufficiently in advance of Frischette to achieve their purpose. With
this thought in mind, Dick, after waving a friendly farewell to the
unsuspecting Frenchman, led the party forward quickly until a turn in
the trail obscured their movements. Then, breaking into a run, he darted
along the shadowy forest path, motioning the others to follow.
Ten minutes later, the three boys drew away from Fontaine and Le Sueur,
striking off at right angle with the dim trail to Grassy Point Lake, and
continued their hurried course straight in the direction of the lonely
cabin. As they proceeded on their way, excitement, caused by the thought
of their coming adventure, grew upon them. They were shaky and nervous
when they finally drew up in front of a thick screen of underbrush, less
than sixty yards from the house. Dick motioned to Toma.
“Hurry around toward the front of the cabin,” he whispered tersely, “and
give your bird-call.”
“Sure you all ready?” inquired the young Indian.
“Yes, all ready.”
“I go then.”
Without further word, Toma slunk forward, skirted the line of underbrush
and presently disappeared from view.