UNEXPECTED NEWS
For a full minute no one spoke.
It was a question who was the more astonished—the prospectors or the
three boys. Corporal Rand turned his head as the two men entered and
regarded them steadily. Creel had half-started from his chair, then
quickly sat down again, while a queer smile puckered the corners of his
mouth. If Dick had expected that Creel’s assailants of the previous
night would show fear at sight of the mounted policeman he was greatly
mistaken. To his surprise the big man nodded in a friendly way toward
the corporal, then advanced to confer with him.
“This sure is a piece of luck,” he exclaimed, extending a grimed and
hairy hand, which Rand totally ignored. “I hadn’t expected to find yuh
here. Most allers when yuh want a policeman, there ain’t one within
fifty miles.”
This statement, apparently, did not wholly please Rand, for he scowled
lightly, his sharp blue eyes full upon the other.
“What business have you with the police?” he demanded.
“It ain’t nothin’ that concerns us,” the little man cut in, in his
attempt to smile looking more repulsive and ferocious than ever. “It’s
like this, constable—”
“I’m a corporal,” interrupted Rand severely.
“A’ right, corporal. As I jes’ started out tuh say Burnnel an’ me—that’s
him there. He’s my pardner—is a hoofin’ it along on our way to Deer Lick
Springs, when sudden like, in a little clearin’ in the brush ’long side
the trail, we comes upon the body of a man.”
The prospector paused, rubbing his chin with the sleeve of his coat.
“He was dead, corporal,” he went on, “—dead as a dead crow he was, sir,
a lyin’ there all stiff an’ cold with a bullet through his head.
“Fer more ’n a minute Burnnel an’ me we couldn’t speak, we was that
surprised, corporal.”
“My pardner has told yuh right,” the big man hastened to confirm the
other’s story. “He’s back there now, jes’ like we found him.”
During the short announcement by the two men, Rand’s expression had
grown severe, as was always the case when he was thinking deeply or when
he had suddenly been made aware of some new and unexpected happening. A
deep pucker showed between his eyes. He motioned the partners to be
seated, produced a notebook and fountain pen.
“Now just a moment,” he began, glancing sharply across at the two tale
bearers. “Answer my questions as I put them to you. First of all, just
where did you find this body? How far from here?”
Burnnel scratched his head.
“Le’s see—I reckon, corporal, ’bout twenty miles from here, southeast on
the trail tuh Deer Lick Springs. It was on the right side o’ the trail,
wa’n’t it Emery?”
“It was,” Emery corroborated the other.
“On the right side o’ the trail,” continued Burnnel, “close to a willow
thicket.”
“In what position was the body?” Rand next inquired.
“The man was a lyin’ stretched out a little on his left side, one arm
throwed up like this:” The speaker imitated the position of the body by
putting his head forward on the table and extending his arm. “It was
like that, wa’n’t it, Emery?”
Again he turned toward the little man.
“It was,” came the ready rejoinder.
“And you say there was the mark of a bullet on the man’s forehead?”
“Yep,” Burnnel answered, “an’ a revolver in the hand what was
outstretched.”
“In other words,” Rand’s tone was incisive, “it looked like suicide.”
Both the men nodded emphatically.
“Yeah, that’s what it was. Suicide. An’ it happened not very long afore
we had come. Yuh could see that.”
The policeman tapped softly on the back of his hand with his fountain
pen. For several minutes he did not speak, then—
“You say you didn’t disturb the body?”
“No,” answered the little man, “we didn’t touch him.”
“Did you, by any chance, examine the contents of his pockets?”
The big man flushed under the direct scrutiny, while his partner, Emery,
suddenly became interested in the fringe of his mackinaw jacket.
“Well, yes,” drawled the big man. “Yuh see,” he attempted to defend
their actions, “Emery an’ me thought that mebbe we could find a letter
or suthin’ in his pockets what would tell who the fellow was.”
“Quite right,” approved Rand. “And what did you find?”
“Nothin’,” stated Emery.
“Nothin’,” echoed his partner.
“Absolutely nothing?” Rand’s eyes seemed to bore into them.
The partners exchanged furtive, doubtful glances. Then the face of Emery
darkened with a sudden resolve, and he thrust one hand in his pocket and
brought forth—to the boys’ unutterable amazement—a small moose-hide
pouch, scarcely more than two inches in width and three inches in
length—a small poke, identical to the one Dick had held in his own hands
less than twenty-four hours before. Seeing it, Dick had taken in his
breath sharply, while Sandy and Toma rose excitedly to their feet and
crowded forward.
“You found that?” asked Rand, wholly unmoved.
“Yes.”
“Let’s see it.”
Emery tossed it over and it fell in Rand’s lap. The corporal picked it
up and examined it closely. He untied the cord at the top and opened it.
He thrust two fingers inside.
“Empty,” he said.
“Yeah. Empty.”
Both Burnnel and Emery wagged their heads. Corporal Rand favored them
with a keen, searching look.
“You’re sure about that. You didn’t take out its contents?”
The partners denied the implication stoutly. Their denials and
protestations were so emphatic, that neither Corporal Rand nor the boys
could believe that they spoke anything but the truth.
“And this was all you found?” Rand continued his questioning.
“Nothin’ else,” grunted the big man. “There wasn’t even a pocket knife
or a comb or a watch, or anything like that. His pockets was absolutely
empty.”
The sight of the moose-hide pouch had produced a strange effect upon
Dick. His eyes kept returning again and again to the mysterious object
Rand still held carelessly in one hand. Improbable as it seemed, Dick
could not shake off the belief that the poke was the same one that had
been taken forcibly from Creel the night before. He wondered what the
old recluse thought about it all. Turning his head, he glanced sharply
in his direction.
To his surprise, Creel sat unmoved, apparently uninterested. His round,
staring eyes, which somehow reminded one of those of a cat, were set in
a fixed stare. Occasionally, Creel’s long hand stole to his bandaged
head. It was evident that nothing was to be gained here. Then Dick
became conscious of a question that Rand had just asked the two men:
“You found the body along the trail, twenty miles from here. Deer Lick
Springs is only ten miles farther on. What motive prompted you to return
here? Wouldn’t it have been much easier to go on to your destination?”
“We thought about that,” the little man answered without a moment’s
hesitation. “Burnnel an’ me we talked that over when we was standin’
lookin’ down at that man’s body. I was fer goin’ on tuh the Springs, but
Burnnel he says no. Wouldn’t hear to it. He insists on comin’ back all
this way tuh Frenchie’s stoppin’-place.”
“Why?” asked the policeman, turning upon Burnnel.
The big man drew a deep breath before he answered.
“It’s like this, corporal,” he finally declared. “Yuh see I had a notion
that I had seen that man before. He looked like somebody I knowed what
lives over this way. I wa’n’t sure, o’ course, but I had a suspicion. It
sort o’ bothered me. I says to Emery: ‘We’ll go back an’ find out.’”
The pucker came back between the corporal’s brooding eyes. He looked
upon Burnnel with suspicion. Dick wondered if Rand believed, as he was
somewhat inclined to believe himself, that the partners were the man’s
murderers.
“What did you intend to do when you arrived here?” Rand asked.
“We was plannin’ to send word tuh the police. We thought they ought tuh
be notified. But afore God, corporal, we didn’t have no idea that yuh
was here. Mighty lucky, I call it. Saved us a hull lot o’ time an’
trouble.”
“Yes, it was lucky,” the corporal averred grimly. “Rather fortunate for
me too. You may consider yourselves under arrest, at least until I have
investigated this case. You and your partner will lead me to the scene
of the tragedy.”
“A’ right,” agreed Emery, his face more repellent than ever, “me an’
Burnnel’ll go with yuh. It won’t take long. If we had some horses now—”
“I’ll supply the horses,” Rand informed him.
“That’s fine!” Emery’s smile expanded into a leer. “We can go an’ get
back afore night. Ain’t that right, Burnnel?”
“Yeah,” agreed Burnnel, “an’ when do we start, corporal?”
“Right away.”
“That’s a’ right with us,” said the big man, “only—”
“Yes,” insisted Rand, “Only—”
“Yuh see, me an’ Emery ain’t had nothin’ tuh eat fer a long time. Soon
as we get suthin’—jes’ a bite, corporal—we’ll be ready tuh start. Ain’t
that fair enough?”
Rand nodded. His brow had contracted slightly, deepening the pucker
between his eyes.
“There’s one thing you’ve forgotten to tell me,” he informed them.
“Burnnel, you said a moment ago that the man out there reminded you of
someone. Who?”
“Yes, yes,” said the big man eagerly, “I was a comin’ tuh that. It’ll
explain, corporal, why we drifts back this way ’stead o’ goin’ on to
Deer Lick Springs. Yuh see, the man out there looked,” he paused,
wetting his lips, “looked like this here fellow what runs this
stoppin’-place—this here Frenchie Frischette.”
The three boys bounded from their seats. Corporal Rand himself started
visibly. With one exception every one in the room showed his
astonishment. That exception was Creel. The old recluse sat perfectly
unmoved, as though he had expected, had been prepared for the strange
denouement.