BIRDS OF A FEATHER.
When Eli Perkins left the camp on that memorable afternoon with
Cuthbert's fine rifle on his shoulder, he did have a card up his sleeve,
so to speak.
Not that Eli was not intent on securing game for the pot, and meant to
keep an eye out for anything in the shape of a deer that he could bag;
for he had long desired to shoot that dandy gun, the envy of his soul,
and as yet the opportunity to use it on a gallant stag had not been
forthcoming, though he had often carried it forth when the time seemed
propitious.
But Eli had been looking around ever since they landed, and it was his
settled conviction that the country in that section had all the color of
a copper region.
Copper was Eli's little god.
He eternally dreamed of some day finding a ledge of such incredible
richness as would make all previous discoveries sink into utter
insignificance; and from his delightful share of the profits from the
mine he meant to satisfy that yearning for seeing foreign lands; for
long had he looked forward to the time to come when he could visit
Egypt, Turkey, Russia, Germany and all those countries he had read so
much about.
His only prospect of ever getting there, in his mind, lay in this
discovery of copper, and copper haunted him day and night.
Cuthbert knew all about his yearning, and in his own mind had long since
arranged it so that Eli would share his next trip abroad; but the other
knew not what luck was awaiting him and so he kept thinking of this
happy find, and his eyes were constantly on the watch for "signs."
And now more than ever before he was convinced that he must be in a
country where there was undiscovered copper veins.
That no one has as yet stumbled upon them did not strike the lad as
strange, for he knew that those who stalked through this wilderness
were, for the most part, ignorant trappers or Indians, who would not
know the value of a find if they fell over the richest outcropping ever
found.
Eli had studied up the subject in his leisure hours for some years past,
and was fully posted on all that pertained to its various branches.
So while he was walking ahead and looking with one eye for big game his
other optic was on the alert for any signs of an outcropping of the
rich metal that had been given the place of honor in his heart.
This accounted in some measure for his eccentric advance; for many times
he turned aside to bend low over some suspicious spot where his keen eye
had detected symptoms of a deposit.
Although disappointment came again and again Eli never despaired, for he
was certain he would sooner or later come upon that which he meant to
have, and the delay, while aggravating, could not crush his spirits.
Twice later on he found reason to believe he was getting nearer the
object of his ambition, for the signs were certainly growing stronger;
and thus he was being lured further and further away from the camp.
Then came the moment when he sighted the deer through the bushes, and
all his hunter instinct was aroused by the sight.
He began to creep forward, his finger upon the trigger of the gun, and a
sense of delicious uncertainty thrilling his nerves.
Just as the observant Owen later on declared, he did get down on one
knee several times, intending to shoot; but finding that the deer had
not shown any indication of alarm, he had concluded to advance a bit
further, in order to make doubly certain.
Eli knew that he was sure of that buck, for he had perfect faith in his
own abilities as a marksman, when within such short range; and as for
the quality of Cuthbert's pet rifle, that went unquestioned.
Finally he took a quick aim and fired.
It had been the report of his gun that floated away back to the camp,
and was heard by his two comrades about half an hour before dark.
Eli deliberately pumped another cartridge into the chamber with one
speedy movement of his hand, as he had done many times in practice, and
then ran forward to where he had last seen the deer.
He knew full well that it had gone down in a heap, for he had seen as
much while he was in that instant placing the rifle in condition for
further work; and hence he was not in the least surprised to find the
noble animal kicking its last when he arrived upon the spot.
Eli was not an enthusiastic hunter; indeed, as a usual thing, he had
been pretty well satisfied to let Cuthbert do most of the shooting and
fishing of the trip; but when it came to disposing of the cooked product
while they sat around the camp fire, he was right in the game, for Eli's
one weakness was his appetite, and he never seemed to have enough.
He placed the rifle against a neighboring tree, and, drawing his
hunting knife, proceeded first of all to bleed the deer, after which he
started to work cutting it up, for it was too heavy by long odds to
think of trying to carry the whole carcass to camp, now more than a mile
distant.
So busily engaged was he in this work that he paid not attention to what
was taking place around him, and consequently did not see the shadowy
figure that came flitting from tree to tree like a wraith of the great
pinelands, finally reaching the oak against which Eli had leaned his
gun.
Then a gnarled hand was stretched out and eagerly seized upon the
beautiful little Marlin, which was quickly withdrawn from view.
Just then Eli was startled to hear a gruff "Ahem" from a point in front
of him, and glancing up hurriedly from his work he discovered a man
standing leaning on a long-barreled rifle and surveying him with a sneer
on his face.
It was the same fellow who had bunked with them and drank their elegant
Java with such gusto--Stackpole, the timber-cruiser.
Eli had not liked his looks when he was in camp, and he certainly saw no
reason to change his mind concerning the fellow now, for Stackpole did
have a piratical appearance when he scowled or looked scornful.
Instinct compelled Eli to reach out his hand for his gun, even while not
removing his eyes from the interloper with the evil cast of features.
When his groping hand failed to connect with the rifle he was compelled
to turn his head quickly and saw, to his dismay, that the gun no longer
occupied the spot where he had placed it.
At the same moment a second man stepped into view, having his own rifle
hung over his shoulder with a strap, while the repeater belonging to
Cuthbert was resting in his grimy hands.
Eli recognized this worthy immediately, nor was he very much surprised
to see him there, since Owen had declared it to be his belief that they
might run across him sooner or later.
He remembered how they had met him some weeks earlier, and also how he
had made up that chart for Cuthbert, for a consideration, which since
that time had proven so very unreliable, and which the Canadian lad
pronounced utterly worthless.
It was Dubois, the greasy woods-ranger, fit comrade for the ungainly and
grinning Stackpole.
He stood there looking at the boy and nodding his head.
"Well, well, if it ain't Eli Perkins alive and in ther flesh! Who'd ever
a thort tew see yer up hyer? I allowed thet p'raps yer boys mighter come
part way, but it does beat all how some fools air taken keer ov. Thank
yer kindly fur this yer purty little gun, Eli. Reckon I kin soon git
ther hang o' the way ye work thet pump bizness. Anyhow, I'm willin' ter
larn. Hold on, now, jest keep yer distance, er somethin' not down on
ther bill'll happen ter ye, boy!" was the way Dubois addressed him.
Of course, Eli felt angry, but he saw that they had him trapped neatly
enough, and he was not the fool the other would try to make out.
At least he had had considerable experience with just such fellows as
these and knew how far one could go in conducting negotiations with
their breed.
Eli had a streak of caution and also a bit of cunning in his make-up;
doubtless he had found need of both in his dealings with the huskies to
be met with in the Michigan lumber camps, where brute strength counts
for more than education.
It evidently behooved him to play "lame duck," just as the mother
mallard does in order to deceive the wandering egg hunter, and lead him
away from her nest.
So Eli simply chose to look foolish, and stood there grinning and saying
not a word.
He was a good hand at playing the game of "wait," and perhaps in time
his chance would come to knock up their hand, and call the deal.
"I see yer hev cut up ther deer all hunky-dory, Eli. Now, sence we old
fellers is a bit troubled with rheumertism s'pose ye shoulder ther bag
o'game an' come erlong wid us. My ole friend Dubois hes got er shack not
werry far off, an' we kin hold our hungry feelin's in till we git thar.
Up she goes, boy, an' don't yer dare ter scowl at me like thet again,
less ye wanter feel ther toe o' my moccasin. Wy, I've sliced a feller's
ears orf fur less'n thet. I'm a holy terror wen I'm riled up, ain't I,
Dubois?" said Stackpole.
And this was the man whom they had entertained at their camp and given
the best meal of his whole life!
Eli made a note of the fact for future reference.
There would perhaps come a day of reckoning, and the account, however
long, could be adjusted.
He took up the pack of meat and followed Stackpole, while Dubois walked
along a little distance behind.
Perhaps it was accidental, this meeting with the two woodsmen, but Eli
doubted it, preferring to believe that they had been watching him ever
since he left the camp, with the idea of effecting his capture should
the opportunity arise.
With such men this was not a difficult thing to do.
What puzzled him, however, was the trouble they were taking on his
account.
If it was simply that coveted gun they wanted, why not turn him adrift
after securing possession of the firearm, rather than make a prisoner of
him; surely they could not be doing this for the mere sake of compelling
him to "tote" the venison to their camp, for that would be slipping up
on a point, since he must know where they held out and could carry the
information to Cuthbert when released.
Now had it been the young Virginian who was captured, he could readily
understand their reason, for Cuthbert had money in abundance, and would
pay a round sum to be set at liberty; but who under the sun cared
whether he, Eli Perkins, lumber-jack from the Michigan pine woods, were
free or a prisoner, living or dead?
And poor Eli was wrestling with these puzzling questions as he trudged
wearily after Stackpole; nor did he seem to get any nearer a solution,
though approaching the matter from all sides.
Darkness overtook them while they were still tramping through the woods,
having covered some miles since leaving the spot where the deer was
shot.
And then by degrees Eli began to guess what they had in view in holding
him.
It would be only natural for the two worthies to try and hide their
trail when thus passing through the woods and bound for the place where
according to Stackpole the other had some sort of a dugout or shack.
To the surprise of Eli not only did they fail to take any precautions in
this respect but on the contrary actually seemed to leave as plain a
trail as possible.
It took Eli some time to understand the meaning of this, and then it
broke upon him like a thunderclap--these fellows were laying a trap, and
expected Cuthbert to walk into the same just as the fly enters the web
of the spider.
Of course in due time Cuthbert and Owen would feel it necessary to look
him up, and as the latter was a good trailer they would follow the
course now being taken by himself and his captors, follow it until the
door of the trap was sprung shut, making them also prisoners.
Eli grunted his disgust when he saw all this spread out before him.
Eli was so utterly helpless to prevent it.
And while he walked he was busying his mind in the endeavor to invent
some clever scheme whereby he might get the better of the twin rascals
and turn the tables upon them.
But Eli did not possess a very brilliant mind and suggestions came
slowly to him; all his life he had been in the habit of allowing some
one else do his thinking for him, and when thrown upon his own resources
he found it difficult to fully grasp the situation and conjure up any
possible remedy.
At the same time he was stubborn by temperament and not given over to
despair, no matter how black the circumstances seemed.
Perhaps presently things might take a turn; all he wanted was to keep
his eyes about him, and his wits sharpened, so that if the occasion
arose he would be in shape to reap the benefit.
Stackpole must have been joking when he said the shack was close by, or
else they had purposely made a circuit in their walk, for it was a full
hour before they arrived at their destination.
Whoever had originally built the cabin in the wild section where the
rocks cropped up amid the stunted trees, it had evidently been abandoned
many years, until of late Dubois took possession of the same.
A light through what seemed to be a window without glass was the first
indication they had that they were approaching the end of the trail; Eli
showed some sign of interest when he saw this, for it meant that there
might be another member of the party, and his curiosity was excited.
Could it be possible that there was a regular league of these lawless
rovers of the great timber belt, organized to prey upon their fellows,
and eager to milk such prizes as Cuthbert Reynolds would prove to be, if
once he fell into their clutches?
If so, this could hardly be their headquarters, for it was too near the
Hudson Bay post; and from what he had heard about the stern old factor,
he would never allow such an organization to get a footing within his
territory--if he was a martinet and a stickler for fealty to the
company, he was also an honest man, with a hatred for rascality that
made him the terror of evil doers.
Stackpole brushed open the door and strode within.
"Follow yer leader, kid," ordered the man in the rear, and accordingly
Eli passed over the threshold.
Once within, the boy was ordered to prepare supper, and knowing the
folly of resistance he obeyed.
All the time he was on the watch for a chance to do something that would
render the guns of the timber cruisers useless. They were both old style
rifles of the breech-loading type, and given a chance Eli knew how to
fix them so that it would require the assistance of a gunsmith to place
them in serviceable condition again.
Once Dubois went out and called to Stackpole, evidently desirous of
conferring with his partner over something he did not wish the boy to
overhear.
Eli saw his chance, and though his heart seemed to be in his mouth, he
carried out his hastily formed plan.
Stackpole had taken the repeating rifle with him, as if not fully
trusting the prisoner. But Eli could wait. Besides, he was hungry, and
that was his venison, so he felt entitled to some of it.
While they ate the two men occasionally joked the boy in their rough
way. But Eli only grinned, knowing that his time had almost come.
"Now git a hustle on and clar up the muss, younker!" said Stackpole, as
he lighted his pipe.
Eli coolly snatched up the little Marlin repeater. He heard the angry
cries of the men as they reached for their own guns.
Then Eli laughed.
"The joke is on you, Stackpole. Couldn't shoot them guns in a week, for
I doctored 'em all right. Stand back now or take the consequences, you!"
They were cowed by the sudden and complete change. Neither of them dared
move a hand even when Eli opened the door of the cabin, having slung
some of the venison across his shoulder.
"Next time, gents, don't leave a timber boy alone in a cabin with your
guns," he remarked, and waving his hand mockingly he closed the door.
Five minutes later one of the men ventured to open the door, when a gun
sounded, and the bullet struck so close to him he slammed the barrier
shut again.
Then Eli hurried off, having taken his bearings. Half an hour later he
discovered the glow of the little headlight torch, and to the delight
of his chums hailed them.
Although Cuthbert and Owen were indignant at the action of the timber
cruisers, they thought best to let the incident pass. No doubt the men
would leave the country now, since they must fear lest their unlawful
act get to the ears of the old factor and cause them trouble.
So our three boys returned to the camp and spent the remainder of the
night in peace.