The Telltale Thumb-Print
More serious than ever was the ranger's face when Charley showed him the
telltale footprint.
"It's bad!" he said. "Altogether bad! He's as cunning as a rat, that Bill
Collins. But how he could ever discover a camp so well concealed as this
one is, I don't know."
And with that the ranger fell into a brown study. Lew and Charley went on
rapidly with their preparations for supper.
"Here," called the ranger, noticing what they were about. "Mr. Marlin sent
this to you. I almost forgot about it." He reached into the capacious
inner pocket of the hunting-coat he wore and drew forth a bulky package.
"Beefsteak!" cried Charley, opening the package. "Oh boy! And enough for
two meals. We're certainly obliged to you and Mr. Marlin both."
Meantime, the pup, neglected, fawned upon them and began to whine, when
suddenly the ranger cried out, "I've got it. It was the pup."
"The pup?" echoed Charley. "What about the pup?"
"Why, it was the pup that betrayed the camp. In some way those men got
within hearing or smelling distance of this place, and the pup must have
barked or whined. You know how a lonely dog will howl and carry on. I'm
sorry, but I guess that pup will have to go, Charley."
Charley's face expressed almost as much mental agony as the pup's whine
had shown, though he said nothing. The ranger, looking up, caught the
expression, however, and understood. He knew how lonely it would be for
Charley after Lew returned to Central City. "The harm's already done," he
continued, "and I suppose it never does any good to lock the stable after
the horse is gone. You may keep your pup, Charley; but I do wish he was a
dumb brute in fact as well as in name."
"I can train him to be quiet," said Charley eagerly. "I trained Judge
Gordon's dogs to hunt and I can train this little fellow not to make a
noise. If I could keep him, sir, I'd be mighty glad. He'll be a lot of
company."
"Keep your dog, noise or no noise," said the kindly ranger with
determination. "If you can really train him well, he'll do us a thousand
times more good than he does harm. Now that I know Bill Collins is in
these woods, I don't like the idea of leaving you here alone. You train
that dog as fast as you can. Train him to warn you of the approach of
strangers, and train him to fight, too--and to fight hard."
Again the ranger lapsed into silence. After a while he said, "What
puzzles me now is this: Should we move your camp to another place or leave
it where it is? Bill Collins knows there is a camp here. He saw you two
boys in the forest and he has probably seen no one else. He will likely
infer that it is your camp. But he has no way of knowing that you are
connected with the Forest Service, unless, unless--By George! Why didn't I
think of that sooner? Ten to one he hid close by and watched for you to
come back. If he did, he saw us when we came down from the top of the
hill. And if he saw me with you boys, he knows as well as I do why this
camp is hidden and what you boys really are doing. I'll bet it made him
swear some when he saw me." And the ranger chuckled.
"But maybe he didn't see us," suggested Charley.
"I'd just as soon believe that the sun didn't set. That fellow's a fox for
cleverness and a bulldog for persistence. Yet I don't see that we need
feel bad, even if he does know where your camp is. We've learned more than
he has. We know he's back in these parts and that he is making a secret
visit to this timber; for you may be very sure he intended it to be a
secret visit."
"But he can't be certain we know who he is," argued Charley. "He is as
much a stranger to Lew and me as we are to him."
"True enough, Charley, true enough. It was really a great piece of luck
that you boys happened to bump into him. It would have been better, of
course, if you could have seen him without being noticed yourself, but in
that case we should never have guessed who he was. No; it's a game of
checkers between us now, and we've each lost a man to the other. But in my
opinion we got a king in exchange for an ordinary checker. What I'd like
to know is, who the man is that's with him."
"Supper is ready," announced Lew.
The three entered the tent, where Lew had hung the lighted candle lantern,
and in the growing darkness ate their meal.
"It seems to me," suggested Lew, "that it would be best to leave the camp
right where it is. If we move it, that will indicate that we know its
location has been discovered. If we let it remain where it is, these men
won't know whether we are aware if their visit here or not."
"You've a good head on you, young man," said the ranger approvingly.
"That's exactly the thing to do. Besides, if we moved it and Bill Collins
wanted to find it, he'd stick right to the job until he succeeded. But I
don't believe he has any interest in watching this camp or in staying in
this forest. It isn't a healthful place for him and he knows it. You see,
Bill and I are old acquaintances. It's my opinion that he came in here for
some particular purpose and that he'll get right out the instant that
purpose is accomplished. Those men didn't have any packs, did they?"
"Not a sign of a pack," replied Charley. "Their coat pockets bulged out
as though they had sandwiches or something in them, but they hadn't a
thing in their hands or on their backs except fishing-rods and creels."
"That settles it," said the ranger. "They can't stay here more than
forty-eight hours at the most. And there's no danger of their telling
anybody else about your camp because they won't want anybody to know they
were here. We'll just consider the camp situation settled."
They finished their supper and had begun clear up the dishes when suddenly
Charley thought of the fire-clay. "Oh! I have something to show you," he
cried, and went to the corner of the tent to get the clay ball. It was
just where Charley had left it, but the instant he picked it up he was
somehow conscious that it was different. He held the ball up and looked at
it critically. Then he hefted it in his hand.
"Lew," he exclaimed, "how big was that ball of clay we took for a sample?"
"Four or five inches in diameter," rejoined Lew. "Why?"
"Look at that. It isn't a bit more than three inches thick. I was sure we
had more clay than that. I meant to make a little pot of it."
"We did have more. I'm sure of it. You don't suppose those men could have
taken any of it, do you?"
"Let me see," said the ranger.
He took the ball and examined it critically. "That looks like fire-clay.
If it is, and the deposit is of any size, you have found something of
value. You know the state sells things like that on a royalty basis. We
might be able to develop a good clay business. We like to work up all the
business we can, because the revenues go toward the purchase of the
equipment we need. You know the legislature won't give us all we need to
buy implements for fighting fires, and for fire-towers, and other
equipment."
"If we could make a fire," said Charley, "you could soon tell whether it
is good fire-clay or not."
"Make a fire," said the ranger. "Collins already knows where our camp is
and nobody else will be prowling around here at this hour."
In a minute the boys had a fire going. When they had a deep bed of coals,
they dropped the ball of clay in it and made more fire on top of the bed.
While they were waiting for the clay to bake, Charley sat down at his
wireless key. As it was still early in the evening he did not feel certain
that any of the Camp Brady boys would be listening in. He called several
times with no response, so he threw over his switch and resumed his
conversation with his fellows. When he flashed out his signals a quarter
of an hour later, however, he got a prompt reply.
"I've got 'em," said Charley quietly to his comrades. "And it's Henry
talking." He was silent a while, listening to Henry's message. Then he
said, "Henry wants to know when Lew is coming home. Vacation is about
ended."
"Tell him that I think I'll go back with the ranger to-morrow. I've stayed
as long as I possibly can."
Again there was a pause. "Henry wants to know what we are doing and
whether or not we've had any adventures. I wish I could tell him the real
situation. But that would never do."
Charley turned to his key and began to tick off a message: "Everything as
quiet as--" He stopped abruptly. A cry that fairly made him shiver sounded
in the forest. He turned to the ranger. "What in the world was that?"
"A wildcat," replied the ranger. "He smells the meat you hung up. You'll
just have to be a bit watchful. He may hang around here for days, and
sometimes those fellows get nasty."
Another piercing cry startled the night. Again Charley shivered. Lew got
up and by putting more wood on the fire lighted up the interior of the
thicket brightly.
Charley turned to his wireless key and sent a call signal flashing.
"What's the matter?" came back Henry's reply. "Why did you cut off?"
"Wildcat," flashed back Charley. "Just outside our camp. Smells our meat.
Scares a fellow half to death when he cries out. Ranger says it may hang
around for days. Wish you would send us some traps."
"You'll bring them out on your next visit, won't you?" said Charley,
turning to Mr. Morton.
"Bring what out?" demanded the perplexed ranger.
"Why, traps. I forgot that you couldn't read the message I was sending.
I'm asking Henry for traps."
"Tell him to send them along. Trapping will be better than shooting under
the circumstances, but don't hesitate to use your gun if you need to."
Charley turned back to his instrument and asked Henry to rush the traps.
He inquired about his fellows of the Wireless Patrol. Henry had nothing
out of the ordinary to report. Then Charley asked Henry to get the
forester at Oakdale on the telephone.
After a long wait, Charley's receiver began to buzz. "Henry has the
forester on the telephone," Charley explained to the ranger. "What shall I
tell him?"
"Nothing. I'll tell him about Bill Collins myself. Just say that
everything is all right and ask him to get Katharine on the telephone."
Again there was a pause. "He's got her," said Charley.
"Please tell Katharine," said the ranger, "that it was necessary to stay
in camp with you to-night. Ask how she and the little girl are."
While his friends sat in silence before the crackling fire, Charley took
the message. "Katharine says that everything is all right and they are
well. She thanks the fire patrols for taking care of her husband."
Charley said good-night and laid down his receivers. "Your wife is a
pippin," he said with a smile as he turned toward the ranger. "I don't
wonder you like her. Think of her thanking us for taking care of you. Why,
we'd be scared to death if we were here alone, with that confounded hyena
howling out there in the bushes. She must be a brave little woman. She
didn't seem a bit worried because you hadn't come home."
"I guess she had an idea I wouldn't get back to-night," said the ranger.
"You know it's a pretty good hike for one day."
Charley knew well enough that Mr. Morton was trying to mislead him. He saw
at once that the kind-hearted ranger had intended to spend the night in
camp. But not knowing what to say, he turned in silence to the pup, which
evidently smelled the wildcat, and tried to quiet him.
"You can be glad that you've got that dog," said the ranger. "I don't
think that cat will come any closer, for it can smell the dog as well as
the meat. Take care of him and make him useful. Now we'd better turn in,
for we must pull foot early in the morning."
"Let's first see if our clay is baked," suggested Charley.
Charley scattered the embers and rolled the clay ball out of the ashes
with a stick. It was baked as hard as a brick. The ranger folded up the
newspaper which he had used as an outer wrapper for the meat, and picked
up the ball with the paper. Lew held the candle lantern close while the
ranger examined the clay. Slowly he turned the ball around, picking at it
with his knife blade.
"Who made this ball?" he asked suddenly.
"I did," said Charley.
"Did Lew touch it at all?"
"I can't recall that he did."
"No; I never laid a finger on it," said Lew. "Charley rolled it and
carried it here himself."
"Let me see your thumbs, Charley," said the ranger.
Charley, puzzled, held them up for inspection. The ranger examined them
closely. "Now let me have that little microscope of yours," he continued.
Charley handed it to the ranger, who studied the clay ball intently
through the glass, then as carefully looked at Charley's thumb. Then he
chuckled. "We've taken another king in this little checker game," he said.
"Look at that."
While Mr. Morton held the lantern for them, the two boys studied the
burned ball of clay. On it were a number of distinct thumb-prints, now
turned into solid brick by the action of the fire. The boys looked at each
other questioningly and then at Mr. Morton.
"It's a clever rogue who doesn't trip himself up somewhere," chuckled the
ranger. "What happened is as clear as daylight. Collins and his companion
found this clay while they were inspecting your camp. They must have
suspected that it was fire-clay and that you had found a deposit of value.
They took some along to test, and rolled what was left into a ball again,
thinking you would never notice the difference. But they forgot that clay
would take finger-prints so readily, and they have left their calling
cards behind them."
The ranger carefully wrapped the clay ball in his handkerchief, and then
in a newspaper. "Let me have this," he said. "The police may have some
duplicate prints somewhere. We don't know what Collins and his pal are up
to, but we have something here that we may find very useful. It isn't
every crook that is so considerate as to leave his thumb-prints behind
him."