The Shortcut
Jack led Madge a short distance down the shore. After surveying the
locality intently to be certain of his bearings, the ranger parted the
thick growth of bush which fringed the water, and they plunged into the
forest. At first they followed a thinly worn path, but presently thorny
vines and underbrush impeded their progress. It was unpleasantly warm;
mosquitoes and insects were a torment.
Once Jack slackened his pace and looked back at his companion but Madge
urged him on. She knew that everything depended upon speed. Rather than
hold Jack back she would drop by the wayside.
She managed to keep up with him, never uttering a word of complaint, but
when at last they came within sight of Rice Lake she felt that she could
not have continued a hundred yards farther. Emerging from the forest they
paused to survey the lake. There was no sign of a canoe or a boat.
“Do you think we’re too late?” Madge asked.
“Hard to tell,” Jack returned briefly.
They hurriedly made their way along the muddy shore toward the point
which marked the end of the portage Clyde Wendell must have taken. Jack
studied the soft ground along the shore but the only footsteps visible
had been made many days before. They walked a few steps down the portage
and paused to listen. Only the wild cry of a bird greeted their ears. No
broken twigs or bushes disclosed that anyone had passed along the trail
that day.
“Either we’re here ahead of him, or he didn’t come this way,” the ranger
said in a low tone.
Madge sank down on an old log to rest. The ranger stood beside her
staring meditatively down the trail. Suddenly he straightened, and Madge,
hearing the same sound, looked quickly up. She stifled the exclamation
upon her lips.
She could plainly hear the crackle of twigs underfoot. Someone was coming
down the trail! Madge quietly arose and looked questioningly at the
ranger. His expression had not changed.
Then through the trees they glimpsed Clyde Wendell. He was staggering
under the burden of his canoe, and with head bent low could not see the
two who awaited him in the clearing.
“Hello,” Jack said challengingly. “We’ve been waiting for you.”
With an exclamation of startled dismay, the chemist straightened and
allowed the canoe to slide to the ground. He faced the two defiantly.
“Well, what do you want? I’m on my way to Bryson.”
“So I observe,” Jack commented dryly. “What are you doing with the
canoe?”
“I only borrowed it. I’d have sent it back when I got to Bryson.”
“It isn’t considered wise to borrow government canoes. But we’ll let that
pass for the time being. Hand over the book!”
“What book?” Wendell countered.
“The one I see sticking out of your hip pocket.”
The chemist’s hand went involuntarily to his pocket but he faced Jack
with blazing eyes.
“I’ll not hand over what belongs to me.”
“It’s Anne’s book!” Madge cried for she had seen the cover. “Clyde
Wendell, you did steal it!”
The chemist half turned as though to make a dash back over the trail he
had just come, but the ranger caught him firmly by the shoulder and
wheeled him about.
“Oh, no you don’t! Hand it over or I’ll take it by force.”
Wendell looked searchingly at the ranger. “See here,” he said in a
conciliatory tone. “I’ll pay for the book and the canoe too. I meant no
harm. I only want to catch my train at Bryson. You see, I picked up the
book by accident—”
“You’ll catch no train today,” Jack interrupted bluntly. “You’re going
back to Loon Lake. Incidentally, there’s a matter of a board bill to
settle. Now hand over the book!”
Reluctantly, the chemist relinquished it. Jack passed it on to Madge who
hastily examined it to see that no pages were missing.
“You knew it contained the formula,” she accused.
“That’s the wildest accusation yet!” the chemist laughed derisively. “You
and that Fairaday girl have built up a pretty story which you’ve kidded
yourselves into believing is true. Fairaday never owned a formula. It was
an obsession.”
“Move along!” Jack ordered. “Walk ahead of me and don’t try any tricks.”
Madge followed close behind. She was highly elated at having regained
possession of “Kim.” Yet what if Anne should fail to bring out the secret
writing? Clyde seemed so confident they would not succeed.
“We’ll find some way to reveal the writing!” she resolved. “At any rate,
I’ll not worry until after we’ve made another laboratory test.”