A WARNING
Frank looked about him with some curiosity when they reached the
settlement, which struck him as a singularly unattractive place. In a
hole chopped out of the forest that crept close to the edge of the water
stood a few small log houses and several roughly boarded shacks. Tall
fir stumps surrounded them, and here and there provision cans and old
boots lay among the fern, in which a few lean hogs were rooting. Farther
on, however, there was an opening in the bush, for the boy could catch
the gleam of water between the trees, and in one place the great
columnar trunks cut against the soft green of a meadow. The grass was
bright with sunshine, but dim shadow hung over the forest-shrouded
settlement.
"A forlorn spot," said Harry. "I don't know why the folks first pitched
here, but they raise a little fruit, and now and then a Seattle boat
comes along. It's thin gravel soil on this strip, and that's probably
the reason they haven't done any more chopping--there are salt meadows
farther along--but if they'd any hustlers among them they'd have got out
their axes and let a little daylight in." He waved his hand
contemptuously. "They're a mean crowd, anyway, except the storekeeper,
and I've wondered how he makes a living out of them. Now we'll go along
and get that flour."
They moved on down the trail, which was torn up by the passage of jumper
sledges, until they reached a frame building which Frank had not noticed
at first. It stood back a little and was larger and neater than any of
the rest. A veranda ran along the front of it and in one window small
flour bags and more provision cans were displayed. A couple of men in
blue shirts and overalls lounged smoking on the veranda in a manner
which suggested that they had never hurried themselves in their lives,
and they seemed to be the only inhabitants of the place. As the boys
walked up the stairway Harry pointed to a notice pasted up in the
window. Frank stopped and read it aloud.
"_Twenty dollars will be paid to any one identifying
the man who recently drove a pair of horses off the
Oliver ranch._"
With a laugh Harry looked up defiantly at the lounging men. "That's
Oliver's answer," he said. "They told him to keep his mouth shut."
One of the men grinned. "Seems to me it was good advice. Do you figure
any one round here is going to earn those twenty dollars?"
Harry shook his head. "I don't," he answered. "Still, my only reason for
believing it is that the money isn't big enough. Anyway, that notice
will serve its purpose. It makes it clear that we mean to fight."
The lounger grinned again and Harry, marching past him with his head up,
entered the store. A man who was sitting behind the counter rose when
the boys came in and raised his hand in a manner which seemed to
indicate that caution was desirable.
"You're wanting some groceries?" he asked.
"Flour," Harry answered. "A seventy-pound bag, if you've got it. Some
pork, too--you know the piece we take. You might send them down to the
beach, if there's anybody in the place who's not afraid of carrying a
flour bag."
The storekeeper smiled and strolled casually toward the window. Coming
back he leaned upon the counter.
"Your aunt's mighty particular about her pork," he said, raising his
voice a little. "Better come along into the back store and see what I've
got."
They followed him into a smaller room, where he first of all threw
several big slabs of pork down upon a board, making, it seemed to Frank,
as much noise as possible.
"Twelve pounds in this lot," he said loudly, then lowering his voice:
"Those fellows outside haven't gone and I don't want them to hear. You
haven't found your horses yet?"
Harry admitted that they had not done so, and the man nodded gravely.
"Well," he said, "I guess they'll turn up presently. I couldn't tell
your father that because there were other folks in the store when he
handed me the notice. What I want to say is that he's not wise in
bluffing the boys. You had better tell him that's my opinion."
"How much do you know about the thing?" Harry asked directly.
"Very little, but I can guess a good deal. Quite enough, anyway, to
convince me that you folks had better lie quiet, and let the boys
alone."
Harry glanced scornfully toward the veranda.
"Pshaw!" he growled. "We don't want to meddle, but it's another matter
to let those slouches drive off our team. That's my view, though I don't
know what my father means to do about it. He hasn't told me."
"He never does tell folks," the storekeeper answered with a trace of
dryness. "I guess he'll wait, and kick when he's ready, but you tell him
from me that he's up against quite a big thing." He raised his voice:
"Well, I'll send that pork and flour along."
The boys went out and met one of the loungers strolling casually across
the store, though Frank had a suspicion that he had come in softly some
time earlier. As they were walking down to the beach Harry glanced up
the strip of sheltered water.
"There's a Chinese camp a little way up the creek," he said. "Nothing
much to see there, but we may as well take a look at it."
They paddled across a strip of shadow where the reflections of spreading
cedar and towering fir floated inverted in the still, green water until
the ripple from the bows broke across and banished them. After that they
slid out into the sunlight where a narrow belt of cultivated land ran
back on either hand. On one side it was partly hidden by a bank of soil,
at the end of which three or four men were leisurely working. They
merely looked down as the canoe slid past.
"Hard cases!" said Harry presently. "If I was sheriff I'd clean this
hole right out. There are decent folks here, but the curious thing is
that when you let two or three toughs into a place they seem to get on
top."
Frank made no comment, and soon they were once more paddling into the
shadow of the forest. The creek was growing smaller, and at length they
ran the canoe ashore and struck into a narrow trail through the bush.
It was now getting on into the afternoon and Frank felt sorry that they
had not eaten the lunch Miss Oliver had prepared for them before they
left the sloop. It was very hot, and very still, except when now and
then the drumming of a blue grouse came sharply out of the shadows. By
and by, however, the wood became a little thinner, and Harry pointed
toward an opening between the trees.
"That's the place," he said. "Not much to look at, but it's good land.
You can see the maples yonder--that's always a favorable sign--and
somebody with money has lately bought quite a piece of it to start a
fruit ranch on. The Chows have taken the contract for clearing it, and
if any dope has been landed in the neighborhood they're probably mixed
up with the thing."
Frank glanced toward the opening, and sitting, as he was, in dim
shadow, the open space he looked out upon seemed flooded with dazzling
brightness. In the background, and some distance away, little, blue-clad
figures were toiling with axes that flashed as they swung amidst a
confusion of branches and fallen logs, the staccato chunk of the blades
ripping through the heavy stillness. Nothing else, however, seemed to
move, and the air was filled with a languorous, resinous smell. Rows of
stumps stretched out from the spot on which the Chinamen were working,
breaking off before a cluster of bark and split-board shacks that stood
beneath the edge of the forest. A man dressed in loose, blue garments
was seated motionless outside one of the shacks, before two logs, from
between which a little smoke curled straight up into the air. Presently
the man stood up, and just then Harry seized Frank's shoulder.
"Look round a little--to the left," he whispered.
Frank did so and was astonished to see another man slip quietly out of
the forest and approach the shack. His face was not discernible, but
there was something peculiar in the way he walked, and his dress made it
evident that he was a white man.
"Have you seen him before?" Harry asked softly.
"I can't locate him, but I've an idea that he's not quite a stranger,"
said Frank.
"Well," said Harry, "I'm open to make a guess at him. Just as the
schooner went about that night I had a look at her helmsman. He had his
back to me, but it was moonlight, and I could see that one shoulder
hunched up in a kind of curious manner."
Frank looked again and it seemed to him that there was something unusual
in the way the man held his shoulder. It was somewhat higher than the
other, though it hardly amounted to a deformity.
"Slip in behind that tree," whispered Harry, pointing toward the bush.
"We'll creep up through the shadow if he goes into the shack."
They spent some minutes moving forward in and out among the trees, and
in the meanwhile Frank saw the stranger enter the shack and the Chinaman
follow him. Then he and Harry walked out of the bush scarcely a score of
yards from the rude building, and headed straight for it. As they
approached, the Chinaman became visible in the doorway, where he stood
waiting for them. He appeared to be an old man, for his face was lined
and seamed, but it was absolutely expressionless, an impassive yellow
mask, and Frank felt baffled and repelled by it. As soon as it was
evident that the boys intended to enter his dwelling, he moved aside,
and when they stood in the little, shadowy room Frank was astonished to
see that there was nobody else in it. This seemed incomprehensible, for
there was only one door in the place. In the meanwhile the Chinaman was
looking at them quietly.
"It's quite hot," observed Harry.
"Velly hot," assented the other, who did not seem in any way disturbed
by the fact that they had so unceremoniously marched in.
Harry appeared embarrassed after this, as though he did not know what to
say next, until he was evidently seized by an inspiration.
"Got any chow, John?" he asked.
"Velly good chow," answered the Chinaman. "Lice, blue glouse, smokee
fishee."
"Blue grouse!" said Harry disgustedly aside to Frank. "It's the nesting
season, but I guess that wouldn't count for much with them." He turned
to his host. "I'm not a heathen. Savvy cook American? Got any flour you
can make biscuits or flapjacks of?"
"You leavee chow to me," said the other. "Cookee all same big hotel
Seattle, Tacoma, San F'lisco."
"It's quite likely," said Harry, looking round at Frank. "You can trust
a Chinaman to turn out a decent meal. I'll walk round a bit in the
meanwhile; you can sit here and rest."
Frank did not particularly wish to rest, but he fancied that his
companion had given him a hint, and while the Chinaman busied himself
with his pots and pans he sat down outside the shack. He had been up
early that morning, and after the steady, arduous work at the ranch it
was pleasant to sit still in the strip of shadow and let his eyes wander
idly about the clearing. Among other things, he noticed that a little
trickle of water flowed across it, and that the soil was quaggy in the
neighborhood. He concluded that the stranger, who had so mysteriously
disappeared, must have crossed the wet place.
It was some little time before Harry came back and the Chinaman then set
out their dinner. Frank had no idea what some of it consisted of and his
companion was unable to enlighten him, but it was excellent. When they
had finished, the man turned to Harry.
"One dolla," he said gravely.
Harry handed it over readily and smiled at Frank when they strolled back
into the bush.
"It wasn't what I'd figured on when I first walked in, but I had to make
some excuse," he said. "Just now I'd very much like to know how far it
went with him." He paused and looked thoughtful. "I guess it wasn't a
very long way. The image is ahead of us by a dollar."
Frank laughed. "You had some reason for going for that walk?"
"Oh, yes," replied Harry. "I wanted to make sure of things, and the
ground was soft. There were some footprints in it--going from the
shack--and they'd been made quite lately by a white man's boot. John
sticks to his slipper things in a general way. Anyhow, it was the man we
saw who left those tracks."
"How do you know that?"
"There were a lot of others about, but they'd been made earlier. The
water had got into them, but there was very little in those I was
interested in."
Frank was conscious that this was a point which would probably have
escaped his notice, but he had not lived in the bush and learned to use
his eyes.
"It's very curious how the fellow got out of the shack without our
seeing him," he said.
"It looks curious until you begin to think. Now, though I tried to keep
my eye on it all the while, the trees kept getting between me and the
shack as we made for it, and what I couldn't see you couldn't see
either. You were close behind me, which, in one way, was where we were
wrong. If we had crept in well apart, the same tree wouldn't have
bothered both of us, though if we'd done that it would have doubled the
chances of our being seen."
"A tree isn't such a very big thing," Frank objected.
"No," said Harry. "The point is that it will shut an object a good deal
bigger than itself out of your sight." He stopped a moment and pointed
toward a neighboring cedar. "We'll say that one's three feet in
diameter, but, as you're standing, it will shut off a good deal more
than a track three feet wide through the bush. You want to run a line
from your eye to both edges of the trunk and then carry them out behind
it. The farther you run them, the farther they get apart, and as you
can't see round a corner, everything in the wedge they enclose is shut
out from view. Got that into you? It will come in useful when you're
trailing a deer."
It was quite clear to Frank now that it had been explained, but his
companion went on.
"Well," he added, "it wouldn't have taken that fellow more than a few
seconds to slip out of the shack and in behind it. Then if he kept it
between him and us he'd be hidden until he reached the bush."
"Yes," said Frank. "It must mean that he saw us, and didn't want us to
see him."
"You're getting quite smart," said Harry with a grin. "I don't know if
you noticed it, but you trod on a rotten branch that smashed. He didn't
want us to know him again, but I'd pick that fellow anywhere by his back
and walk. Now why was he so anxious that we shouldn't see him talking to
the Chinaman?"
It was a suggestive question, but Frank could not answer it, and Harry
said nothing further. Reaching the canoe they paddled down the creek
until they came abreast of the sloop and saw the provisions lying upon
the shingle some little distance from the water, for the tide had ebbed
since their arrival. When they had run the canoe in Frank assisted Harry
in getting the flour bag on his back, but gave a sudden cry of dismay as
a white cloud flew all over him.
"Hold on!" he cried. "Put it down. It's running out!"
Harry dropped the bag and drew down his brows as he gazed at the little
pile of flour which lay at his feet. Then he suddenly stooped down.
"The bag seemed a sound one," Frank suggested.
"Oh, yes," said Harry shortly. "There's only one thing the matter with
it. See here," and he laid his finger on a long slit. "Somebody has
stuck a knife into it."
"A mean trick!" Frank broke out wrathfully.
Harry stood up with a flash in his eyes. "It's rather more than that.
It's a hint. Anyway, if you'll get hold of the other end we'll pack the
bag down with the cut uppermost."
In spite of this precaution they spilled a good deal of the flour before
they got it on board the sloop, but Harry said no more about the matter,
and hoisting sail they slid out of the inlet with a faint breeze abeam
of them. They found it fair and the breeze only a little stronger when
they had left the woods behind, and Frank sat at the tiller while the
sloop glided rapidly through the smooth blue water with no more than a
drowsy gurgle beneath her bows. The tide was running down with them now
and it was only when he glanced toward the beach that he realized how
fast they were going.
A pleasant salt odor of drying weed was mingled with the scent of the
firs. In front of them a wonderful vista of white snow mountains emerged
from fleecy cloud, and far beneath the silvery vapor appeared the faint
and shadowy blurs of distant hillsides clothed with mighty forest.
Overhead the big white sail swayed languidly to and fro, cutting sharply
into the blue, and Frank felt that he would like to sail on like this
for hours, lounging at the helm, and listening to the water as it
slipped along the sides. With a light fair wind he could guide the boat
wherever he wished by the slightest touch of the tiller, and it was
pleasant to see how steadily he could keep her bowsprit pointing to a
low rocky head that rose, a patch of soft blue shadow, against the
evening light.
The voyage, however, came to an end almost too soon, and the rocks and
firs were growing dim when they ran into the cove and picked up their
mooring buoy. After they had stowed and covered the sails they went
ashore, and both boys were very tired and warm when they reached the
homestead. Harry's clothes were covered with flour, which had left a
white trail along the way. Miss Oliver was standing in the lamplight
when they came in and noticed the white patches on their clothes.
"You have let him give you a burst bag!" she exclaimed.
Harry looked meaningly at Frank. "No," he said, "I think it was all
right when it left the store and I don't think we have spilled more than
a few pounds. Perhaps we had better skip it into the barrel. It will
save the stuff from running out when you move it."
They managed to carry it away between them; and when they had emptied it
Harry turned to Frank.
"If she starts talking about that bag, head her off on to something
else," he said. "I don't want her to get imagining trouble every time we
leave the ranch."
When Miss Oliver resumed the subject at supper Frank attempted to divert
her attention, and fancied that he succeeded, though he wondered why she
smiled at times. When the boys had gone to their room she picked up the
bag and stretched it out under the light. Then her face grew grave as
she saw the slit in it. Being a clever woman, however, she decided not
to mention her suspicions.