A MISADVENTURE
Neither Fred nor Bill had any desire to sleep, now that the solution of
the mystery seemed so near. They remained in the same place where the
halt was made until the blackness of night gave way before the pale
threads of light.
"It's gettin' pretty nigh time to begin our work," Bill said, "an' this
heat we mustn't make any mistake."
"I'm afraid we can't get near enough to see whether they take the money
or not. Perhaps it isn't anywhere around here."
"Then we'll follow 'em, if it takes a week, to find out what we're
after. My idee is that we'd better separate, so's to make sure of
knowin' what's goin' on. You stay here, an' I'll creep over to the other
side, then we shall be doublin' our chances."
"But what is to be done in case we don't see them dig up the money?"
"Foller, no matter how long a chase they lead us. We shall come together
somewhere on the road; but it won't be a bad plan for you to take a
little of this money. If we had only bought some grub last night things
would be in better shape."
"I can get along without food for a week if there is any hope of helping
Sam."
"The whole thing will be cleared up providin' we don't loose sight of
them. Here's the money, an' now I'll be off. You'd best crawl nearer
before the sun rises."
With a pressure of the hand Bill started, making a wide detour around
the encampment, and Fred was alone, trying hard to repress a tremor of
excitement which was causing him to tremble as if in an ague fit.
After waiting half an hour, and assuring himself that Bill was well off,
Fred began an advance, working his way from bush to bush until
convinced he could approach no nearer with safety.
By this time the sun had risen, and his rays falling upon the faces of
the sleepers, awakened them.
Both sprang to their feet, and Gus began building the fire while his
companion was busily engaged at something among the bushes--preparing
food for cooking, as Fred thought.
"Then you still think we oughter leave here?" Gus said, interrogatively.
"Yes, an' the sooner the better. There's no knowin' when that feller's
friends may come sneakin' around agin. We'll hurry up with the
breakfast, an' start when it's over."
The boys had quite an outfit, as Fred could now see. A frying-pan,
coffee-pot, tin cups, plates, and a bag well filled with provisions.
Gus acted the part of cook, and soon the odor of hot coffee was wafted
in the direction of the watcher, causing him to feel the need of
something to eat.
But little conversation was indulged in during the preparations for the
meal. Gus' companion did not show himself until everything was ready,
and then he ate hurriedly as if time was too precious to admit of
talking.
"Now let's divide the load," the boy said, as he leaped to his feet and
began tying the cooking utensils together. "If you'll see to the grub,
I'll take care of these."
Fred gazed intently, expecting to see the money exposed to view; but no
mention was made of it.
Gus shouldered the bag; his companion swung the remainder of the
baggage over his shoulder, and the two started, walking rapidly around
the mountain on a course which would carry them to the eastward at right
angles with the railroad track.
Fred followed, remaining as far in the rear as was possible to keep them
within view, and at such a distance that he could no longer overhear the
conversation.
Beyond a doubt Bill was also in pursuit; but he did not show himself,
and Fred fancied he was well over to the left travelling on a parallel
line with the boys.
During an hour these relative positions were maintained, and then Gus
threw down the bag as if to make a halt.
"Now they're going to dig up the money," Fred said to himself, and he
pressed forward that he might see all which occurred.
In this he was mistaken, however. The two had simply stopped to rest,
and such of the conversation as could be overheard only had reference to
the location for a permanent camp, Gus insisting they were far enough
away from the villages, while his companion urged that twice this
distance should be covered.
"It's plain they have no idea of digging," Fred muttered. "It begins to
look as if we had made a big mistake; but if that is so, what was the
meaning of the talk they made last night?"
It was an enigma which he could not solve. Although believing they were
on the wrong track, he did not feel at liberty to abandon the search
until after consulting with Bill, and as yet no signs had been seen of
that gentleman.
The halt was continued for half an hour, and then the two boys pushed on
again, walking at a leisurely pace until the forenoon was well nigh
spent, when they came to a full stop at the bank of a small brook.
They were now, as nearly as Fred could judge, eight or nine miles from
the starting point, and that this was the end of the journey could be
told by the preparations made.
From the bag a new hatchet was produced, and both set about hewing small
trees and bushes with which to build a camp.
Not until this shelter was put up did Fred dare to move near enough to
hear what was said, and then he found a hiding-place in the thicket
twenty paces in the rear of the rude dwelling.
Even though two hours had been spent in this work, Bill did not show
himself. It was possible, however, that he believed it dangerous to move
about in the daytime, but would join his companion after dark.
Such conversation as the boys indulged in had no especial interest to
the listener, since it referred almost entirely to the length of time
they would remain in the camp.
When the day came to an end Fred had not heard anything of importance,
and he resolved to advise an immediate return to Farley's when Bill
should join him.
During the evening Gus and his companion appeared to be very jolly; they
told stories, sang, and laughed as if there was nothing in connection
with this "camping out" to be concealed, and the watcher in the bushes
wondered why the miner did not come.
Half a dozen men might have walked around the encampment without being
observed by the boys, and Bill's delay seemed very singular.
Fred did not dare to leave his place of concealment, and even if it had
been perfectly safe to do so, he knew not in which direction to look for
his friend, therefore nothing could be done save exercise patience.
The hours passed without any change in the condition of affairs. The
camp-fire burned itself out. The supposed culprits retired to rest, and
Fred, who had slept but a short time during the previous night, found it
absolutely impossible to prevent his eyes from closing.
Lower and lower his head drooped upon his breast until slumber came, and
he remained unconscious for many hours.
The glare of the sunlight aroused him after the occupants of the camp
were astir, and he sprang to his feet in alarm.
The noise made by this sudden movement startled those whom he had been
detailed to watch, and before Fred could collect his scattered senses
both the boys were upon him.
For a single instant the three stood surveying each other, and then Gus
and his companion seized the bewildered spy by the arms, rendering
useless his frantic struggles to defend himself.
"Can you hold him, Tim, while I get something to tie his hands?" Gus
cried, and Tim replied:
"I can take care of three or four jest like him. Get the rope outer the
bag; that'll be strong enough."
With a quick movement the boy clasped Fred around the waist and held
him firmly until Gus returned.
When the prisoner's hands had been lashed to his side he was led to the
camp, where his legs were also bound, and the captors seated themselves
in front of him.
"Now tell us where that man is?" Tim said, sternly.
"What man?"
"You know who I mean; the feller what come over to Blacktown with you
an' Skip."
"I wish I knew," Fred replied with a sigh.
"Don't lie to us," and Gus shook his fist in the helpless boy's face.
"That miner went to a lawyer an' told him I had a hand in stealin' the
money what Sam Thorpe lost. Then you an' Skip tried to pump me. Now give
us the whole yarn, or things will be mighty hot."
Fred remained silent.
"He's been follerin' us ever since we left the town," Tim said after a
moment's thought, "an' it stands us in hand to get outer this lively, or
the rest of his gang will be on us."
"Have we got to do more trampin' jest on account of a sneak like this?"
Gus asked fretfully.
"Do you want to stay an' run the chance of bein' carried back to
Blacktown?"
"Of course not; but travelin' all the time when we mighter got on the
cars in the first place is more'n I bargained for."
"If you'd had your way we'd been pulled in before this. Get the stuff in
shape, an' I reckon we'll fix things right now. Let him carry the load,
an' we'll take the tramp kinder easy."
Gus obeyed with a very ill grace, and while he was getting the cooking
utensils together Tim walked along the bank of the brook to where a flat
stone lay half submerged in the water.
Fred watched his every movement as he overturned this, and dug with a
pointed stick until a small, square package had been exposed to view.
There was no question in the prisoner's mind but that the wrappings of
cloth covered the money Sam was accused of stealing, and now the secret
had really been discovered, all else seemed trifling in comparison.
"I wonder how it happened that I didn't see that when they left the last
camp?" he thought, as Tim put the bundle carefully in the inside pocket
of his coat.
"So you've found out what you come for, eh?" the boy cried, angrily.
"Well, it won't do any good, for when we get through with sneaks they
can't do much harm. Pick up that load, an' if you don't walk lively I'll
find a way to make you."
"How can I pick up anything while my legs are tied?"
Tim unfastened the ropes from Fred's ankles; loosened one of his arms,
and threw the cooking utensils over his shoulder.
"Come on Gus," he said, impatiently. "We'll take turns carryin' the grub
'till we've given the slip to whoever may be follerin', and then he can
tote the whole load."
Fred was faint from lack of food; but he mentally braced himself to
perform the task, and Gus cried as he struck him a blow full in the
face:
"Step out now, an' when we make camp to-night you'll get a taste of how
we serve spies. It'll be a worse dose than the regulators ever gave you,
an' don't forget it."
"There's no time for foolishness," Tim said, impatiently. "His gang may
be close behind, an' we can't afford to pay him off yet a while."
With this sage remark he took up the provision bag, and led the way
across the base of the hill, at right angles with the course pursued on
the previous day, while Gus remained in the rear to urge the prisoner on
in case he faltered.