A SUCCESSFUL EXPERIMENT
“We might as well move on,” advised Grace. “To-morrow will be
Sunday, and we ought to find a good camping place for that day, and
have a day of rest.”
“Does Miss Briggs feel able to ride?” asked Ham White.
“Yes. Her head naturally is still quite sore, but otherwise she is
as fit as any of us. It takes a lot to put J. Elfreda Briggs out of
commission,” added Grace laughingly.
“That it does,” agreed Elfreda herself, emerging from her tent with
a head bandage like a turban.
The party were just gathering for breakfast on the morning after the
attack on Elfreda. She was a little pale, but wholly herself. The
Overlanders all shook hands with her as she came out, Ham White
among the number, and, for the instant of the hand-clasp, their eyes
met, each seeking in the fleeting look to read the secret of the
other’s reserve.
“I have been out since break of day, following the trail of our
prowler,” announced White. “There was more than one man involved in
the game, whatever it was. They had horses, three horses, and there
must have been that many men involved, though only one man entered
the camp. The probabilities are that they reasoned one man would
stand a better chance to carry out their plan without detection than
would a bunch of them, and they undoubtedly were right. One of our
shots, as I said last night, hit the fellow, for I found a trail of
blood drops. Their trail shows that he had to be assisted to his
saddle, and that a companion rode along at his side when they went
away.”
“Oh, Hamilton. Did you demonstrate all of that?” begged Emma, her
eyes filled with admiration.
“I read the trail, that’s all,” replied the guide. “If that is
demonstrating, I demonstrated.”
“Ha, ha!” laughed Stacy.
“Stacy Brown, you are a young ruffian!” cried Emma indignantly.
“I know it.”
“Besides, you show the most abject cowardice whenever courage is
called for. Why not be like Mr. White, afraid of nothing?”
“I suppose Ham’s a hero, eh?”
“Yes, you know he is,” agreed Emma, her face relaxing into a happy
smile.
“Well, he didn’t do anything to save Elfreda’s life, did he?”
“Perhaps not directly. Indirectly he did.”
“Then I am the heroest hero of the two. Elfreda, didn’t I save your
life—directly—when that bandit was shooting at—” Stacy checked
himself. “I leave it to this honorable bunch if I am not entitled to
the cross of war with all the palms on it that the old thing will
hold. I demand a rising vote.”
All except Emma got up, and all were laughing heartily.
“Carried! We will now proceed to replenish the coal bin,” announced
Stacy, resuming his breakfast.
Emma had nothing further to say to him, though Stacy regarded her
with large, soulful eyes during most of the meal. Following
breakfast, the men of the party broke camp and rolled the packs, and
in a very short time they were on their way.
Grace and Elfreda rode side by side, Grace wishing to see to it that
her companion did not overdo herself.
“I haven’t had an opportunity to ask you if the thief got anything
of value?” asked Grace.
“No. The diary was not in the bag. I put it under my money belt when
I turned in,” Elfreda informed her.
“Good for you! I have been thinking that you and I should look
through that book carefully, and if there be information of value in
it, we should make a copy of it. You keep the original and I will
keep the copy.”
Miss Briggs said she didn’t care much what happened to the diary,
save that she did not like the idea of being beaten.
“I hope I am too good a lawyer to give up a case until the jury has
brought in a verdict against me. Then, after I have carried it to
the higher court and have been defeated there, then I’m beaten. But
not until then. What about the peanut man? Grace, is he the guilty
one?”
“Ask Hamilton White. He knows,” was the low-spoken reply.
“Why do you say that?”
“From the expression of his face when I asked about Haley. There is
something about those men that I do not clearly understand.”
Elfreda averred that there were several “somethings” that needed
clearing up.
“My dear Elfreda, we are involved in so many mysteries that, first
thing we know, we will be accusing each other. To-morrow being
Sunday, I suggest that we go over the diary—get off somewhere by
ourselves and make a thorough job of it,” suggested Grace, to which
Elfreda agreed with a nod.
Grace, at this juncture, turned in her saddle to see what had become
of Stacy, who had been lagging behind all the morning. He was not in
sight when she looked, but the next time she turned he was observed
back some distance, riding off the trail a little way, leaning over
and catching bushes in his hands.
“I wonder what mischief that boy is up to now?” murmured Grace.
“Surely he is not doing that solely for exercise.”
“Don’t you think he needs exercise?” questioned Miss Briggs with a
smile.
Grace’s answer was a laugh.
“Nevertheless I owe Stacy Brown an obligation that I never can
repay,” added Elfreda gravely, and to this Grace gave an emphatic
assent.
The day’s journey was without incident, and was thoroughly enjoyed.
Many trails were crossed, some of which Hamilton White halted to
examine, and then proceeded on his way without comment, unless he
gave an opinion to Hippy Wingate who was riding beside him. Emma
Dean kept as close to the guide as possible, and watched him as
though fearing that he might get away from her. The guide, however,
gave only the most ordinary attention to Emma, just as he did to the
others of the party.
“Is there much gold up this way, or is it a myth?” Hippy was asking
him, as the fat boy continued with his operations at the rear of the
line of horses.
“There undoubtedly is plenty of it if one knew where or how to find
it. I never did, never expect to, and don’t know that I should care
to. In my experience I have learned that not only is gold an elusive
substance, but that it seldom brings the finder happiness.
Ordinarily it brings him disaster, even death!”
“Whew! You talk like an actor playing in a tragedy,” observed
Lieutenant Wingate.
The guide grinned and resumed his study of the trail. Hippy had
thought there might be opportunity to draw Hamilton White out as to
his career. The Overlander was positive that it would prove an
interesting story, but no opportunity presented itself on this
occasion, so Hippy prudently kept his questions to himself. Emma,
however, kept up an almost continuous chatter all the morning and
most of the afternoon.
As the day waned, they began urging their horses to a faster pace,
White explaining that he wished to reach a certain camp-site that
day. He said it would make an ideal Sunday rest camp.
“Do you think we shall be safe there?” questioned Emma. “Oh, I hope
so, Hamilton.”
“As safe there as anywhere up here—perhaps more so, for we shall be
on high ground where nothing can get to us, at least in daylight,
without our observing the approach.”
“You know the place, then?” suggested Hippy. “Have you been there
before?”
“No.” The answer was brief and final, and Hippy wondered how Ham
could know about a particular spot in the forest, and lead them
directly to it if he never had been there. Hippy could find no
answer to that.
The Overland Riders reached the site just before sundown. The
country about them was mountainous and heavily forested. Back of the
camp towered a huge rock. A little way from it was a smooth level
spot, and bubbling from the rock itself there came a stream of water
almost at ice temperature, as they discovered when drinking cups
were brought and all hands helped themselves.
“Oh!” cried Grace. “Is there any drink in the world to equal it?”
“Not now,” answered Hippy Wingate.
“And never has been,” nodded Miss Briggs.
The guide gave expression to a wry smile and went on about his work
of preparing for a week-end camp. Lieutenant Wingate attended to the
unloading, the equipment being piled in orderly manner, and, after a
time, Stacy was prodded into assisting him.
“Mercy! What a peculiar odor there is here,” exclaimed Grace. “Don’t
you smell it, girls?”
Nora, Emma and Elfreda sniffed the air.
“Hippy, what is it? Don’t you smell something disagreeable?”
demanded Nora.
“Now that you speak of it, I do. Stacy, see if you can find anything
dead about here.”
“The place is all dead,” growled the fat boy. “No excitement, no
nothing. But there may be, there may be.”
“May be what?” asked Hippy, regarding the boy keenly.
“Oh, nothing much. I was just thinking.” Stacy avoided Hippy’s eyes,
for his was a guilty conscience. Stacy Brown had been making an
experiment, but as yet he did not know whether or not it was going
to produce satisfactory results. He saw Hamilton White give him a
slanting glance out of the corners of his eyes, and got busy at once
unrolling packs and laying out the tents. This alone should have
been sufficient to arouse the suspicion of the Overland Riders, for
the fat boy never worked unless for some particular reason of his
own. The others of the party were too busy to notice him, and after
a time they became used to the strange odor, faint at times and then
strong, as the evening breeze stirred it into life.
At supper, however, they did find it most unpleasant, and Lieutenant
Wingate discovered that the odor was always more noticeable in the
vicinity of Stacy, but he made no comment. The guide some time
before that had made a similar discovery.
Immediately after the evening meal, Mr. White made a survey of their
surroundings, including a visit to the top of the big rock. From
there he found what he expected to find, an excellent view of the
mountains and the forest for many miles about, but the light was
fading, and he deferred further survey until the morning when the
light would be right to see much farther.
The Riders were tired after their long day’s ride, so all hands
turned in early, and were asleep in a few moments, except the fat
boy. Stacy, by frequent pinchings of himself, and chuckling over the
fun he might have were his experiment to prove a success, managed to
keep awake.
Giving his companions ample time to sink into a profound sleep, the
fat boy crept from his blanket, moving very cautiously so as not to
awaken Hippy Wingate. Once outside he took a long look at the form
of Hamilton White who lay rolled in his blanket near the campfire,
for the air was now chill. White was plainly asleep.
Stacy crept to Grace’s tent, then to the one occupied by Nora and
Emma, pausing for a moment at each and performing some peculiar
motions. It would have been difficult for anyone to even guess at
what the boy might be up to.
“I’d like to give that guide fellow a dose, too,” muttered the fat
boy, again pausing for a long look at White. “I reckon I’d better
let well enough alone, though.”
Stacy got back to his own tent without awakening a single member of
the party.
“Humph!” he muttered. “Sleepy-heads, all. Anybody could walk in here
and steal them without awakening a single person. I don’t believe
anything is going to happen at all. That fellow down at Cresco is a
fake, and I’ll be even with him when we get back there. I’ll get my
money back or—or—” Stacy Brown’s eyes closed, his mutterings became
mere murmurs and then ceased altogether. He, too, was sound asleep,
the biggest sleepy-head of them all.
It was several hours after that that something happened.
Emma Dean uttered a terrified scream, and Nora Wingate, suddenly
awakened, screamed louder than Emma did. The two girls bounded from
their beds and ran from the tent hysterically crying for help.
“Hamilton! Oh, Hamilton!” cried Emma.
The guide had sprung to his feet at the first scream. Grace and
Elfreda were only a few seconds behind him.
“Merciful heaven! What is it?” cried Miss Briggs, as her eyes saw
what appeared to be a huge form at the tent entrance.
Both girls ran out at the other end of the tent, then Hamilton
White’s rifle spoke, waking the echoes of the forest, just as Stacy
Brown ran from his own tent in a terrible fright.
“Oh, wow, wow, wow!” howled the fat boy. “He got me, he did.”
Stacy’s experiment had proved an entire success, and he had fallen a
victim to his own prank.