THE OUTLAW'S NOTEBOOK
"Are you Bart Dawson?" asked Frank.
"That's me," said the old man. "I'm the fellow they stole that there
gold from."
The Hardy boys looked curiously at the old miner. From what they had
heard of Bart Dawson from Jadbury Wilson they had been prepared to
dislike him. But he appeared so genial and friendly and his grizzled
old face was apparently so honest that they could not help but feel
drawn to him. He certainly did not look like the sort of man who
would desert his partners and rob them in the way Jadbury Wilson had
described. Still, the evidence seemed all against him. He had betrayed
his comrades and decamped with their gold, according to Wilson's story.
But why, argued Frank, should he wait twenty years to return for the
wealth he had hidden? Why should he return with one of the Coulsons?
Could it be possible that the pair had been in league with one another
against Jadbury Wilson? The mystery defied explanation, but the more
Frank looked at the jovial, honest face of the old man before him the
more he was convinced that Bart Dawson had none of the earmarks of
either thief or traitor.
"We've got one of 'em behind the bars now," said Dawson, rubbing his
hands with satisfaction. "I only wish we had 'em all."
"Perhaps we will have them all before long," remarked Frank. "We've run
across a few clues that may lead to something."
"That's good! That's good!" declared the old man. "Do your best, lads,
and you may be sure Bart Dawson won't forget you."
Frank and Joe forbore any mention of the name of Jadbury Wilson. It was
best, they decided, to keep that information to themselves until they
should learn more about the affair of the stolen gold. They had long
since learned that one of the axioms of successful detective work is
to listen much and say little. Accordingly, they bade good-bye to Bart
Dawson and left the jail.
"Where to?" asked Joe.
"Back to where we caught Slim Briggs. We were on the right trail to the
camp."
"But if the outlaws have left there isn't much use going up there now."
"We never know what we'll find."
The boys made their way up into the mountains again and, after about
an hour of steady traveling, found themselves on the trail that led
into the defile where they had trapped Slim so neatly. On the way they
discussed their meeting with Bart Dawson.
"I can't imagine that old fellow being the kind of man who would desert
his partners and steal their gold, the way Jadbury Wilson described,"
said Frank, for the tenth time. "I just can't figure it out at all! You
can tell with half an eye that he isn't a crook."
"Yet Jadbury Wilson was absolutely convinced that he had left them all
in the lurch."
"And he had the gold in his possession. We know that. He came back here
to dig it up. That shows he must have hidden it, as Wilson said he did.
The whole story hangs together mighty well."
"Yet why should he bring Coulson with him?" objected Joe.
"That's another queer angle. I can't figure it out at all. I think we
should see Coulson and tell him what we know, tell him what Jadbury
Wilson told us, and ask him about it."
"That's the best idea. But isn't it strange how Jadbury Wilson, away
back in Bayport, should be connected with this case, away out here in
Montana?"
"It's a coincidence, all right. We just seem to have blundered into
the affair from both ends. Bart Dawson and Coulson know a lot that we
don't know, but then we know a lot that Bart Dawson and Coulson don't
know."
"I think we hold the advantage. To-morrow we'll try to find Coulson."
The boys were going down the defile now and they passed between the
overhanging rocks where they had captured the outlaw. The marks of the
struggle were still plainly evident in the snow.
"Poor Slim!" remarked Frank, with a laugh. "He'll be kicking himself
all around the cell for talking so much."
"He was nicely fooled. He was sure the rest of the gang were all in
jail."
"We didn't tell any lies about it. He took it for granted that the
outlaws were arrested. All we did was to look wise and let him keep on
thinking so." The boys chuckled at the recollection of the ease with
which the dull-witted Slim had been duped.
"If only the rest of them are that easy!" said Frank.
"No such luck. I'm thinking this Black Pepper will give us trouble
before we are through. He seems to have Lucky Bottom pretty well under
his thumb."
"He has the sheriff buffaloed, at any rate, by the looks of things.
If Bart Dawson hadn't shown up when he did I don't think Slim Briggs
would have been put in jail at all."
The trail now led toward a clump of trees, and here there were
evidences of recent habitation. Some of the trees had been chopped
down, presumably for firewood, and the stumps rose above the level of
the snow. There were numerous footprints about the little grove and in
some places the snow was closely packed down. As the boys drew closer
they caught a glimpse of a small cabin in the midst of the grove.
"We'll go easy from now on," said Frank quietly. "Some of them may have
come back."
The boys went cautiously forward, keeping to the shelter of the trees
as much as possible. Every few moments they would stop and listen.
But they heard not a sound. There was not a voice from the cabin. The
only noises were the rustling of the trees in the wind. Quietly, the
Hardy boys stole up toward the cabin. It stood in a little clearing in
the wood. At the edge of the clearing they waited, but still they heard
nothing, and finally Frank was satisfied that the place was, in fact,
deserted.
"No one here," he said, in a tone of relief. "We'll take a look around."
They advanced boldly across the clearing, directly toward the door of
the cabin. It was half open. Frank peered inside.
The place was deserted. The cabin was sparsely furnished, with a rude
table, two chairs, and bunks on either side. There was a small iron
stove at the far end of the building and the place was dimly lighted by
one window.
There was every evidence that the outlaws had left the place in a
hurry. Papers, articles of clothing and rubbish of all kinds lay about
the floor, scattered here and there in abandon. One of the chairs was
lying overturned on the floor. The place was in confusion.
The boys entered.
"Looks as if they didn't waste much time in getting out," remarked Joe.
"I'll say they didn't. The cabin looks as if a cyclone had hit it."
"Wonder if there'd be any use looking through those papers." Joe
indicated a scattered heap of old envelopes, letters, tattered
magazines and torn sheets of paper lying on the floor.
"That's just what I was thinking." Frank scooped up a handful of
the papers and sat down on a bunk. He began to sort them over. The
magazines he flung to one side as worthless. Some of the sheets of
paper contained nothing but crude attempts at drawing or penciled
lists of figures presumably done by some of the outlaws while idling
away their time in the cabin.
One or two of the letters, Frank put to one side, as liable to give
some clue to the identity of members of the gang. When he had looked
through the first handful of papers he picked up some more.
Suddenly he gave an exclamation of satisfaction.
"Find something?" asked Joe.
"This may be valuable." Frank held up a small black notebook and began
flipping the pages. On the inside of the cover he read:
"Black Pepper--his book."
"This is the captain's own little record book. There should be some
information here."
Frank began studying the book carefully. The first few pages gave
him little satisfaction, the writing consisting largely of cryptic
abbreviations evidently in an improvised code known only to the outlaw
himself. There were the names of several men written on another page,
and among them he recognized the names of Slim, Shorty and Jack, the
trio who had captured them at the abandoned mine working. Across from
their names had been marked various sums of money, evidently their
shares of the gang's takings in some robbery.
Then, on the next page, he found a crude map.
He studied it curiously. It looked something like the ground floor
plan of an extremely crude house. There was one large chamber with two
passages leading from it. One of these passages was marked with an X,
and each passage led to a small chamber. From one of these led still
another passage which branched into a tiny room, in one corner of which
was inscribed a small circle.
"That's the funniest plan of a house I ever saw!" said Joe, looking
over his brother's shoulder.
Frank studied the plan for a few moments and then looked up.
"Why, it isn't a house at all. It's a mine!" he declared. "This is the
plan of a mine. This big room is the main working at the bottom of the
shaft, and these passages are tunnels leading out of it."
"Perhaps it's the mine where the gold is hidden!" cried Joe, in
excitement.
"There may be something about it on another page." Frank turned the
leaf of the notebook. There he found what he was so eagerly seeking.
At the top of the page was written, in a scrawling, unformed hand:
"Lone Tree Mine." Beneath that he found the following:
"Follow passage X to second cave, then down tunnel to blue room.
Gold at circle."
Frank looked up at his brother.
"This is what we wanted," he said jubilantly. "They've had the gold
hidden there all the time. All we have to do now is find the Lone Tree
Mine and we'll recover the stuff in no time."
"Unless the outlaws have taken it away by now," pointed out Joe.
"That's right, too. I hadn't thought of that. They may have taken it
away right after they abandoned this camp. Well, we've just got to take
our chances on that. If they've left it in the mine this long they may
think it's safe enough there a while longer." Frank got up from the
bunk and stuffed the notebook into his pocket. His eyes were sparkling
with excitement. "Joe, I believe we're on the right track! We know just
where the stuff has been hidden and I've a hunch it's there yet. We
haven't any time to lose. Let's start right now, before those rascals
get ahead of us, and hunt for the Lone Tree Mine."
"Why, I'll bet I know where that is!" declared Joe. "Don't you remember
an old mine working near where they caught us the other day? There was
a big pine right by the top of the shaft, standing all by itself."
"I'll bet that's the place! Come on! We'll try it, anyway!"
Hastily, they left the little cabin. They were sure now that they were
on the trail of the hidden gold. Frank remembered the lone pine tree
that Joe had mentioned; it seemed to identify the abandoned working as
the place they sought.
It was snowing heavily as they started down the trail but the boys
scarcely noticed it in their excitement. They even forgot that they had
not had their lunch.
"If the outlaws haven't beaten us to it," declared Frank, "we'll have
that gold before the day is out!"