TRAPPED IN A HOLE
The trail continued to be a plain one, made by two pairs of feet. The
boys had followed it for a considerable time before attention was
called to the fact that the prints were going in but one direction!
“Well, of all boobs that’s us!” declared Lanky when this fact was
finally noted.
“It’s peculiar!” Frank stood against a tree, looking carefully at
the trail. “I wonder how long since the prints ceased going in two
directions.”
Sheepishly the boys looked at the trail, each one now cognizant of this
fact, and wondering, with Frank, when the prints had ceased showing
travel in both directions.
“It would indicate,” went on Frank, “that these fellows did not come
from this direction--they are merely going this way. Unless, of
course--and we must not forget that point--they came through here
before the snow fell.”
“I believe we can eliminate that possibility,” Lanky spoke up. “There
would be a faint track, at least, to show that they had come to our
place from these hills. It surely does look queer. Wonder if this
trail could possibly lead to some settlement below the mountains?”
“If that is true,” Frank’s eyes followed out over the hills, “we’ll
catch up with them somewhere, and they’ve got to give us back
everything they have.”
Not getting anywhere in their guesses over this circumstance to which
they had given no heed previously, they plodded on through the snow,
trudging along the same path followed by the two men somewhere ahead of
them.
“Whoa!” suddenly cried Paul Bird, who now was leading the single file
followers of the trail. “What’s this? Are they leaving our stuff along
the trail?” He stooped to pick up something lying in the snow--a
silver-plated knife!
“We’re on the right track!” Lanky exploded. “Wow! This is fine! Must
have dropped out of their pockets or the bundle they were carrying.
Ahead of us are the fellows with our stuff!”
There was no other conclusion to be reached. This knife was mute
evidence that they had not missed their guesses at the point where the
trail divided. They were on the right track.
“But I still cannot understand why the trail divided and why two came
this way and two went the other way,” Frank remarked.
“I believe I can,” Buster chimed in, not often given to offering
solutions to such problems. The boys turned to listen to what he had to
offer. “I believe Jeek and one of his pals were with those two tramps.
I believe the two tramps are on this trail and that Jeek and his
companion went back to Jeek’s camp on the lake.”
For a moment there was no answer to this. Finally Lanky spoke up to
give his opinion:
“That sounds all right, because at Todds we saw the print of that
crescent piece on the heel--must have belonged on the shoe of one of
the men with Jeek.”
Frank shook his head. That was not entirely sound.
“The tramps may have come that way, too. Notice this: the tramps were
here when we got here. Jeek and his pals did not come until afterward.”
This puzzled the boys for a while. Frank was right in his statements,
and there was no other way out. So, quiet, thinking over it, the boys
turned once more to follow the trail.
It was getting toward evening, and with the closing of the day the
clouds hung lower, gray, while a wind sprang up from the northwest, a
cold, piercing wind that promised to force the boys back to their camp
over night.
“Let’s follow this trail to the next hill and take a good look. Of
course,” said Frank, “they are maybe twelve hours ahead of us and they
can go a long distance in twelve hours. But if we cannot see anything
we’ll turn back to the cabin and come back here the first thing in the
morning.”
Keeping straight ahead, more enthusiastic than they had been for the
past half-hour, they made for the crest of the next rise, hoping they
would see the end of their trail, see something to indicate that
success was theirs.
At last, coming to the crest, making the last few yards of the steep
incline with something of an effort, blowing hard, they stopped to rest
and to peer ahead--hoping.
“Look!” Frank gasped slightly, as his right hand went up to indicate a
spot where he had seen something. “There’s a cabin over there behind
that clump of trees. Can you see it? Just barely visible--right there!”
There was no doubt of it! A hut was behind that clump, and the trail
which they had followed to the crest of this hill seemed to lead in
that direction!
“It surely looks as if that might be the place. I wish we had a glass
with us to take a better sight at it,” muttered Lanky, while he shaded
his eyes against the burning white of the snow.
“It’s a shack, all right,” Frank verified by looking more keenly at
it. “Whether it is the one we want is another question. But it is the
first one we have seen--and because this seems to be a lone trail, I
shouldn’t be surprised that these fellows are in that shack.”
“How do we get there? Go straight to it and take a chance on being
picked off? Or, do we sneak up to it?” Paul asked.
“There isn’t any chance of sneaking up to it all the way,” Lanky
expressed his opinion. “We’ll just have to follow this trail, because
if it leads to the shack we are on the right one, and if the trail does
not lead to the shack, then the shack doesn’t interest us one particle.”
With a goal of some sort in view, maybe the right goal, the boys went
across the crest of the hill and followed the trail down toward the
shack, situated on the farther hill behind the clump of hemlocks and
pines.
“When we get closer to that place we’ll have to use some care,” said
Frank. “If they are the thieves who got our stuff they are going to
welcome us rather roughly.”
The trail took a long curve as it sloped downward, and, as the boys
saw, it was a fortunate curve for them, inasmuch as it kept them hidden
for a period from sight of the shack.
No smoke issued from the place, they could see as they got closer
to it, indicating that the men being trailed had not built a fire,
probably fearful that it would attract attention.
Reaching a point where the trail might have turned back up the same
hill, they noted that it turned off in the other direction, swinging
toward the cabin behind the trees. At this point they came out into
full view from the cabin.
But no sound came, no one was in sight, no indication that they had
been seen or were feared. But the trail was now most decidedly trending
toward that little old building.
The boys moved more slowly, at the leadership of Frank, who was wary
because of the lack of anything human. His mind was so set upon the
fact that the thieves would meet them with fire or some other show of
fight or defense that he could not understand why everything was so
very quiet and peaceful.
“Don’t you think we ought to get our guns ready?” asked Lanky, speaking
in a guarded tone of voice.
“Yes, get them ready. But it doesn’t seem as if any one is going to say
anything. Maybe they’re not expecting visitors,” replied Frank.
By this time the boys had reached a point not more than three hundred
yards from the cabin, the trail was plain and was headed straight for
the clump of trees. There seemed little doubt as to the goal reached
by the two men whom they were trailing.
Now they reached the first of the clump of trees which surrounded the
cabin. Still there came no outcry from the place.
Sneaking carefully through the trees, dodging from one to the other,
the boys slowly crept upon the shack, stopping now and then to study
the situation. The trail led straight toward the building, not
deviating from a straight line any more than was necessary to dodge
trees.
They were approaching it from one side, feeling that they could not
be seen quite so readily, unless the inmates were peeping through any
cracks which might be in the place.
It was a half-log, half-board place, leaning as if it had been pushed
over by strong winds, with no window or other opening on their side,
a door opening out toward the direction from which they had come. The
door was closed, evidently, though they could not be certain at the
angle from which they approached.
Foot by foot they got closer to the shack, finally getting to the last
few trees that stood about twenty feet distant.
With a nod of his head Frank indicated the front, and the boys followed
him around, keeping their eyes steadily fastened on the chinks, cracks,
or crevices in the building, fearful each moment that some one would
take a shot at them with a firearm.
“Two of you fellows, Paul and Buster, stay outside,” whispered Frank.
“Keep your guns ready. Lanky and I will go in to see what’s there. See
the tracks?”
He pointed to the footprints which led directly to the front door.
There was no longer any doubt. They had followed their quarry to the
place where they were hidden. No other tracks indicated that the men
had left the place. There was only one direction to the prints. The men
were still within that place!
“Be ready to move quickly,” whispered Frank. “All ready? We’ll run for
that front door. Go!”
Frank darted across the twenty feet of space which separated them from
the shack. Lanky was alongside. There came no sound from within.
Frank tried the door very gingerly. To the boys’ great surprise it
opened when the latch was lifted.
Inside it was as dark as pitch. As the day was almost gone, but little
light fell through the door to give any indication of what was within.
Frank felt certain two men were inside, yet there came no sound. It was
all very strange. His decision was made, though.
With a bound, his strong, athletic body thrown forward with all the
agility of which he was capable, Frank Allen leaped to the center of
the shack. His feet struck leaves and twigs, going through them.
One foot struck solid ground as it crushed the leaves downward, while
the other struck nothing! He threw out his arms to catch his balance!
Suddenly he felt a push, just as he fought to regain his balance, and
his foot was thrown clear of the ground. Down, down he went, striking
leaf-covered ground below!
Bang! A gun discharged just over his head, and another form came
toppling into the hole, almost on top of him. Lanky had leaped into the
cabin immediately behind Frank, striking on the covering of leaves,
and he, too, had gotten a push. His finger being on the trigger of his
weapon, it had discharged into the air.
Frank and Lanky both in a hole in the center of this shack--shoved in
by unseen hands!