MISSING.
The mill foreman knocked gently on Dorothy Lowe’s door. “I’m worried,
miss,” he said when the girl answered. “Dan Todd’s missing.”
“Missing? And in the midst of preparing his bid for the big contract? We
were to visit our cedar holdings to-day. Are you sure?”
“His bed wasn’t slept in last night. His horse, scratched up from
bucking the brush, came in with the saddle under him. That horse was in
bad shape, he’d covered a lot of country.”
The girl entered the house and called to her brother: “Get up, Bob;
something has happened to Dan.”
He growled sleepily. “Since when have you been calling him Dan?”
“This is the first time,” she replied, “but I’ve been thinking of him as
Dan for a long time. I’m worried.”
“He’s not worth worrying over. He’ll show up. I’ll be down as quick as I
can dress. Probably he’s off on a bust. You know how these he-men of the
woods are.”
“Nonsense!” she retorted. “Too much important business ahead for to
leave now. I think he may have had an accident!”
He joined her presently and together they made further inquiry at the
mill. The saws were humming, and the “nigger” was dumping huge logs
about as usual, but the men were asking questions.
Uptown they encountered Ludwig. He was carrying a heavy envelope and
just entering the post office. He smiled and tipped his hat, then,
pointing to the envelope: “Wouldn’t you like to know my figures,
Dorothy?”
“No!” she replied, “I am worried about Dan Todd. We haven’t our bid
ready and he hasn’t showed up!”
Ludwig said something conventional, but his mind was obviously on
something else. He eyed the envelope in his hand and then mailed it.
“So the big boy didn’t show up last night, eh?” he observed as they
parted. “Well, don’t worry. He’ll be around in a couple of days. He
doesn’t look on the wine when it is red, but he sure does love to look
on the moon when it’s white—if you get what I mean.”
Perhaps, after all, some such thing had happened. Ludwig was not taking
it seriously. She waited until noon, and then telephoned the logging
camps. The broken wire had been repaired and communication was open. “I
want a thorough search made of every trail,” she directed, “and I plan
to look about myself.”
“I’ll help you, sis,” Bob offered. “You’re worried, and that’s the
reason I’m lending a hand.”
Men worked back and forth through the woods without result. Ludwig
telephoned over that he was sending some of his men to aid. “You’d do as
much for me, Dorothy. I think we’ll find him holed up in some cabin,
lit!”
“Thanks, Sim!”
It was dusk when the girl started back from her second quest that day.
Strange, how important a man can become to an organization! She had
thought some of a combine and with Todd gone it seemed the only open
course. “And yet—” she said aloud.
“And yet?” answered a voice. She started nervously, then laughed. The
voice had come from a cliff—the echo of her own. The trail thickened and
she grew somewhat worried. Perhaps she was lost.
A few yards beyond, a snag had been cleanly cut off with an ax. She
recalled it now. Dan had cut that so she could crawl under without
tearing her clothing. She was on the short cut. Abruptly she looked down
and a strange chill swept through her. There were bloodstains under the
log. Some one, bleeding, had crawled under it recently. In a panic she
hurried down the trail.
There he lay in a clump of brush, a sodden giant in torn clothing and
battered face. “Dan!” she cried. “Oh, Dan!”
He did not answer. She whipped out an automatic pistol and fired the
agreed signal. Three shots, to be answered by two.
The reports seemed to have penetrated his senses. Slowly he opened his
eyes. “Dorothy,” he whispered.
“Yes, Dan!”
“God! Don’t touch me. I hurt all over!” A chill ran through his frame.
“Fire!” he muttered, “find dry stump. Wood inside!”
She searched and presently returned with an armful of dry cedar. Again
she fired the automatic and listened. There was no answer save the echo
following along the mountain range. The fire blazed up presently and she
added more fuel. “What happened, Dan?”
“Four men jumped me and I came out second best. Near as I can figure
they knocked me out, beat me up, then heaved the remains into the river.
Cold water revived me. I have been conscious and unconscious ever since.
Trying to get to the Maple Creek cabin. It’s a ways down the trail.”
He lay close to the fire, enjoying its warmth. She was furious. “Who
were they?”
“They were masked. I left a private mark on some of them. Will settle
later.”
“Masked, eh? The cowards! Four against one. Why did they do it?”
“I’m in the way,” he answered quietly. “Let’s see, what day is this? Oh,
yes, bids are opened to-morrow.” He closed his eyes and rested. So close
was he to the borderline of utter exhaustion the effort of a few words
left him flat.
“Once,” she presently observed, “I used your dry clothes, but you can’t
use mine! If I only dare leave you long enough to get help.”
“Don’t! I’ll be all to the good in a day or so. Now I want—rest!” He
dropped off to sleep instantly. She let the fire die down somewhat,
shifting it along so his clothes would dry out. Moving him was
impossible. Except for the eyes, he was in fair condition about the
face. Most of the beating had been around the body, where injuries are
likely to be permanent. Not murder, but total disablement had been the
motive of the attack.
Nor was he free from his enemies even in sleep. Frequently Dan muttered
threats, and once he leaped to his knees and began to strike out with
his fists. She gently forced him back, and her touch seemed to quiet
him.
She reloaded the weapon and made ready to fire when he awakened. In the
meantime there was nothing she could do but keep the fire going—and
think. The hints she had heard that any warfare in the timber country
would be nasty were borne out. Masked men, brutal beatings, four against
one. But there was no thought of quitting in Dan’s mind. It would be
cruel to tell him it was too late to submit their bid. She would not
have to tell him—he would remember.
There in the darkness, with strange shadows dancing against the dark
trunks of the trees she hovered over him, as, no doubt, some ancestor
hovered over her beaten champion in a darker age when men fought with
clubs. Just then the finishing school and silk clothing seemed far
removed from Dorothy Lowe.
* * * * *
“Sis! Oh, sis!” Dorothy awakened with a start. The bruised giant still
slept; the fire had burned low. She listened, then heaped on fuel. The
fire blazed.
“Sis! Thank God!”
“Where are you, Bob?”
“Down here. I’ve been about crazy. Thought I saw a light up there, but
couldn’t tell until you put on more wood.” Bob Lowe came from the
shadows of the bank below. “Oh! So you’ve found him!”
“Yes! Cowards! They masked themselves, then tried to break him. I mean
just that, Bob. Whoever they were, they did not want to beat him, they
wanted to break him up. He may never be the same again. And you thought
he might be drunk.” Her voice, indignant, rose high.
Dan Todd stirred. “Oh, Dorothy! H-mm!” He blinked his eyes, then
groaned. “Hello, Bob. I’m stiff!” The flames made his eyes deep with
mystery and at times they seemed to burn with a sort of flame as he
looked up at brother and sister. “Bob, more wood! Get some heavy stuff
that’ll burn slow!”
As the youth moved away Todd called the girl. “Little stream down the
trail. Will you get me a drink? Knock in the top of my hat and bring it
in that. Take the flashlight. Thanks!”
Bob Lowe returned first and dropped his burden on the fire. “Anything
else?”
Todd hesitated. “Yes, unbutton the top button of my shirt. It’s choking
me.”
As Lowe kneeled to comply, Todd’s eyes blazed. His hand shot up, and,
though it cost him great agony, he did not falter. Fingers, swollen and
bruised, caught the younger man’s collar. There was a rip of fabric, and
Bob Lowe’s chest was exposed. In a half dozen places the tanned flesh
was punctured by calk marks. Neither man spoke. A few yards down the
trail came Dorothy Lowe with water.