Smoke still hung over the "burn." Now and then it was swept aside by a
gust of wind which seemed now to blow out of the east, and so did not
come sizzling with the heat of burned forests. The general effect,
however, was that of a heavy, stifling fog, and Green and Frank crept
along toward the aeroplane with their hands held out before their faces.
The clatter of the motors had ceased, but the tap-tap of steel on steel
was faintly heard as they neared the machine. Occasionally the worker,
whoever he was, ceased his tapping, as if listening.
"He's got his nerve with him," Frank whispered, as they moved along.
"How did he get here?" asked Green. "That is the question that is
troubling me."
Presently the two came up so that the figure of the man could be
discerned, standing before the bulk of the planes. Green sprang forward
and seized him by the arm. For an instant it seemed as if the capture
would be made without a struggle, then a shot was fired and a crouching
figure leaped away.
Frank saw the forester fall and leaped toward the retreating figure. The
race in the darkness, caused by the pall of smoke which followed, was
short, for Frank was a noted runner and soon overhauled the fugitive. He
did not attempt to take hold of the man as he came up. He knew that such
a course might mean an unequal contest, for he was only a boy.
Instead, he dropped to the ground and caught one of the runner's ankles
in both hands. Naturally the fellow plunged to the ground head-first. He
turned quickly and leveled a revolver. There was no warning. The shot
came instantly, the bullet passing over the boy's head as he dropped
upon the prostrate figure.
With the hand which held the weapon held closely to the ground, Frank
struggled with the fellow for an instant, filling the heavy air with his
cries for assistance. The first shot had been heard by the sleepers, and
help was at hand immediately. The captive was neatly tied by the light
of Frank's flashlight, and the foresters gathered about, still rubbing
their eyes.
The "burn" was not all in darkness all the time, for the glare of the
smouldering embers to the west lighted the place fairly well. Only for
the smoke the ruddy light would have made a pretty good illumination.
When the fellow was lifted to his feet an exclamation of astonishment
came from the group about him.
"Sawyer!" some one cried.
The prisoner dropped his chin for a moment, as if studying out some
difficult proposition, then faced the others sheepishly.
"I thought I could get away with it," he said.
A cry now came from the men who had hastened to Green's assistance.
"He's dead, I guess," the voice said.
"I didn't shoot to kill," Sawyer exclaimed. "He can't be dead."
"Why did you shoot at all?" demanded one of the rangers, approaching
Sawyer with threatening fists.
"He was in my way," was the sullen reply. "I have always wanted an
aeroplane, and I thought this a good time to get one."
"Did you injure the machine in any way?" asked Frank, as Sawyer stood
gazing furtively from face to face, his black eyes showing fear.
"When I found I couldn't get it off," was the reply, "I loosened some of
the burrs. It can be repaired easily enough."
"That is more than can be said for you, if you have killed Green," one
of the men declared, shaking a fist at the prisoner. "If he's dead
you'll be hauled up on one of these trees."
"You wouldn't dare do that!" Sawyer cried.
"Wouldn't we?" cried the other. "You'll see when we know whether he will
live or not. How is it, boys?" he continued, stepping toward the spot
where Green lay.
The man bending over Green was about to reply when Nestor laid a hand on
his arm. The boy had been awakened at the first shot and had slipped out
of his tent and over to the side of the wounded man, being the first to
arrive there.
"Wait," he said, as the ranger looked up in surprise. "Green is not
seriously injured," Ned went on, "but I want to make that rascal think
he is."
"What's the idea?" asked the other, glancing from face to face about
him.
"When he stands under a tree with a rope about his neck," Ned said,
"he'll tell us the truth about this affair."
"He was trying to steal the machine," the other said.
"Green has a bullet hole through his shoulder," Ned said, "but I want
you to treat the prisoner as if the shot had been fatal. Kindly carry
him to his tent."
The command was instantly obeyed, for the foresters all knew why Ned was
there, and understood that he was the personal representative of the
Secret Service chief at Washington. Ned then called Frank aside and
spoke a few words in a whisper. The boy grinned and hastened back to the
group about Sawyer.
"Nestor wants to talk with Sawyer," he explained, "and wants me to take
him to his tent."
"We'll take him to Nestor's tent after we get done with him," declared a
burly forester whose face bore many evidences of the hard fight he had
made during the fire. "It won't take us long to settle with him."
Frank spoke a few words to the man and he was one of the first to push
the prisoner toward Nestor's tent.
"If you'll keep those men off me," were Sawyer's first words, "I'll tell
you what you want to know. They mean to kill me."
"I think there is little doubt about that," was Ned's reply. "Why did
you want the aeroplane?"
"If you must know," was the reply, "I was sent here to get it, or to
wreck it so you couldn't use it."
This looked promising, and Ned waved a hand at Frank.
"Throw him out here!" came a gruff voice from the crowd.
"I won't tell," Sawyer went on, "unless you promise to keep them away
from me. I didn't mean to kill Green, and no court will convict me."
"When did you come here?" asked Ned.
"A month ago," was the reply. "The day you landed in San Francisco a man
came to my boarding house and employed me."
"He mentioned the aeroplane?"
"Yes, he knew all about it."
"Treachery in the Secret Service, eh?" asked Ned.
"I don't know how he gained his information," was the reply. "He told me
that he had secured a job for me in the forest service, and that I was
to join the crew in this district."
"And steal the aeroplane?"
"Steal it or wreck it. There are men with the other crews. You would
have found an enemy wherever you landed."
This was all very amazing, and Ned wondered how many pitfalls had been
set for him in San Francisco. He had no doubt that Sawyer was telling
the truth. The question was as to whether he would tell the story as it
was from that point on.
"Who was it that engaged you--gave you your instructions?" he asked.
"I don't know," was the reply.
Ned swung his hand again, and a fierce demand that the prisoner should
be thrown out arose from the group outside. Sawyer shivered and crept
out of his camp-chair to Nestor's side. His face was deadly pale, being
sheltered from the ruddy glow of the fires. Just where the men stood
outside lay a red lance of light, giving a demon-like look to their
rugged faces.
"If you don't tell me the truth," Ned said, "I can't protect you."
"I tell you I don't know," wailed the frightened man. "I had never seen
him before. I wanted a job and took what he offered. I didn't think it
would be so great a crime to steal or wreck an aeroplane."
"What were you to receive for the job?"
"One thousand dollars."
"Hurry up! Throw that sneak out!"
Sawyer, like the coward he was, threw himself down on the floor of the
tent and groveled at Ned's feet.
"You would know the man again?" asked Ned.
"Yes; I can pick him out of a score of men."
"You will do this willingly?"
"Yes; I'm sick of the whole game. I didn't mean to hurt Green. I wanted
to scare him away so I could get back to my tent without being
recognized. That is all I wanted, and I did not mean to hit him at all."
There was a great deal more talk between the two. Ned soon became
convinced that Sawyer was a weak man, morally and intellectually, who
would be apt to follow the lead of one stronger than himself.
After Ned had left a guard over the man and visited Green--who was doing
very well, and laughing over the trick the boy had played on Sawyer--he
went back to his rough bed, well satisfied with the events of the night.
"By the way," Frank said, crawling into the tent after assisting in
caring for the wounded man, "I don't understand what you mean by saying
that you've got a clue which you think will force the man behind the
scenes out on the stage, in full view of the audience. If there is such
a clue hovering about I haven't become acquainted with it."
"The clue is hardly well enough advanced to talk about," Ned replied.
"But if you've got a line on the leader of this bunch you've won the
case," suggested Frank.
"That is what the government sent me here for," Ned replied. "The chief
of the Secret Service expects me to round up the man responsible for the
frequent forest fires. I think now that he should have told me that
smuggling was going on up here, but he may have had a good reason for
not doing so."
"You know what Mr. Green said," Frank interrupted. "He said the
government officers wanted you to take the case and find out everything
for yourself. Perhaps they feared that you would pay too much attention
to these smugglers, and let the forest fires issue go with scant
investigation. They might have arrested the smugglers at any time, you
know."
"Perhaps so," Ned replied, "But that wouldn't have brought the manager
of the unlawful enterprises into the hands of the law. After all, the
Secret Service men may have been right in sending me up here without
instructions or special information. What a laugh they would have had if
I had failed to discover the Chinamen and the opium."
"Perhaps they wanted to see if you would discover them," laughed Frank.
"Have you any idea," he added, "that the Secret Service men knew that
you would be followed in here--that the plans of the government
regarding your work were known to the outlaws? Do you think they knew of
the employment of Sawyer and the others by the men at the head of the
conspiracy?"
"No; I hardly think the man who gave me final orders at San Francisco
knew that all he did was known to the men he was fighting," Ned replied.
"The head of the bunch put a good one over on him there."
"And came near putting one over on you, also," grinned Frank. "The
aeroplane has been attacked twice already, and others are doubtless
waiting to get a crack at it."
"They will have to hurry up if they do," Ned said, with a chuckle, "and
you will have to look out for yourself if they succeed, for I'm going to
have you take me to Missoula in the morning and then go back and collect
the boys."
"And not come back here again?" asked Frank.
"Not unless we come back for a pleasure trip," was the reply.
"Well," Frank said, "that pleasure trip idea looks pretty good to me.
Why not?"
"I may have time," Ned replied.
Frank threw himself on the blankets which had been provided by Mr. Green
and closed his eyes, which were still smarting from the effects of the
smoke.
"If you go away to-morrow," he said, presently, "what is to become of
the clues we found in the cavern by the lake?"
"All provided for," Ned answered.
"And all the Chinks, and everything you discovered while visiting them
in the caves almost under the divide?"
"Everything provided for," Ned said, sleepily.
"And you think you can close this case by going to San Francisco?"
demanded Frank, a touch of sarcasm in his tone.
"Go to sleep, little boy," said Ned, in a tantalizing tone.
"But do you?" insisted the boy.
"Of course I do," was the muttered reply. "Go to sleep, little man!"
And Frank tried to obey, but sleep would not come. The fire still
smouldered over in the west. The ruddy light of the embers was still
touching the camp with its red fingers. The smoke was still asserting
itself in the air. The puzzle was still there!
After the boy had rolled over at least fifty times, and arose to consult
a water bag at least a dozen times, he seated himself under the flap of
the tent and looked out. There was a moon now, and the smoke only half
hid it. Far off in the woods wild creatures were expressing their
opinion of the fire and the wanton destruction of their homes. There was
a faint rustle in the foliage of the trees east of the "burn."
"Gee!" the boy muttered. "I'd like to come back here for a month!"
Then his attention was attracted to the savage growl of some animal in
the thicket beyond the fire limit of the "burn." It seemed to the boy as
if some man-eating creature had cornered a bit of animate supper, but
couldn't reach it. The language used by the forest resident seemed to be
in the tongue of the panther. While he listened a cry which was not that
of a hungry beast came out of the gloom.
That was a cry for help, surely. Frank put his revolver and his
searchlight into convenient pockets and set out for the scene of the
disturbance, without awakening any of the sleepers. It was slow work
pushing through the bushes, and the boy wondered if a fire there, well
guarded on a quiet day, wouldn't be a good thing.
He kept his searchlight ahead and looked about for the source of the
noises as he advanced in the darkness. In a short time he heard a voice
he knew, but hardly expected to hear there.
"Hurry up!" the voice said. "I'm goin' to tumble out of this tree in
about a minute! I'm that hungry! I thought you might meet me with a pie
under one arm."
"Well, why don't you come down, then?" Frank asked.
"If you'll turn your honorable attention to that tree to the east,"
Jimmie said, "your excellency will observe a panther waiting for his
supper. He's been tracking me all day, getting bolder every minute. Now,
if I turn this searchlight away for an instant, he'll jump on me, and
there you are. No more Jimmie McGraw than a rabbit!"
"I didn't see your light at first," Frank said, "for it was hidden by
the foliage of the trees. I suppose you want me to shoot the cat?"