BIG BEN DECIDES THAT HE HAD BETTER NOT.
For a moment Big Ben paused as if undecided what to say, and before he
could come to a decision the sound of sleigh bells was heard, and,
glancing quickly around, the boys were overjoyed to see their father
just turning into the clearing in a light cutter drawn by a spirited
bay. Mr. Golden was driving and by his side sat Sheriff Switzer. As Big
Ben saw the two men he started toward his crew, but, evidently changing
his mind, he stopped after taking a few steps, and turned back.
"What's all the rumpus here?" Mr. Golden cried as he handed the reins to
the sheriff and sprang from the sleigh. "Hello Ben," he added, as though
he had just noticed the man. "What seems to be the main difficulty?"
"Your men have been cuttin' on my land, that's what's the mater," the
man growled.
"You don't mean it," Mr. Golden said, and turning to Tom he asked:
"How about it, Tom? That's a pretty serious accusation," he said
gravely, but as he spoke the boys caught sight of a well known twinkle
in their father's eye which told them that he was not blaming them for
what had been done.
"Sure and if he owns thot strip," and Tom waved his hand in the
direction of the disputed tract, "we're guilty all right."
"I've got the papers what says I own it," Big Ben shouted.
"And so have I," Mr. Golden declared, more quietly but no less firmly.
"Didn't the boys tell you that my deed had been found?" he asked.
"S'posin' they did, that don't make it so. I say the land is mine."
"Well, well, I see there's no use in arguing about it now. We'll have
the court settle that question at the next term. Meanwhile I'm sure
there is no reason why we should have trouble. You've cut on the tract
and it seems that we have done the same. If the court says the land is
yours then the timber which we have cut belongs to you, and the same the
other way round. That's fair, isn't it?" and Mr. Golden glanced at the
sheriff, who nodded his head.
But Big Ben, evidently realizing that the argument was going against
him, had already turned away and was walking rapidly toward his men. He
said a few words to them in a tone too low to be heard by the boys, and
after a short pause the mob turned and soon disappeared in the woods.
"You sure came in the nick of time," Bob declared as he shook hands with
his father and the sheriff. "Those fellows were just in the right mood
for a fight and it's hard telling how long we could have held them off."
"You seem pretty well fortified," Mr. Golden laughed as he turned to the
six men with the rifles and shook hands with each of them.
"It's good to see you, Jacques," he added, as he welcomed the big
trapper. "I hope you've had a good season."
"Ver' bon merci," Jacques replied with a bright smile. "I bring down one
beeg load ver' fine pelt. Mebby geet 'nother fore spring."
"Oh, by the way, Tom, I managed to scare up four horses for you and they
ought to be along in an hour or two," Mr. Golden said, turning to the
foreman. "How are the sick ones? Did you find out what's the matter with
them?"
"Come into the office and we'll tell you all about it," Bob broke in.
"It's quite a long story."
Leaving the horse to be taken care of by one of the men, Mr. Golden and
Mr. Switzer followed Tom and the boys into the office, where a good fire
was roaring in the stove.
"Now let's have the story," Mr. Golden smiled, as they removed their
overcoats and sat down.
For some minutes Bob talked rapidly, telling them all that had happened.
No one interrupted him, and when he had finished the sheriff, as if he
could hold in no longer, exploded with:
"The dirty rascal. I never would have believed that Ben would do as mean
a thing as that."
"Nor I," Mr. Golden agreed. "Of course I knew that he was pretty sore
over losing that contract, but I did not think that he would poison my
horses. He ought to be punished for that. I could overlook all his other
tricks to try to hold us back, but he's gone a bit too far," and he
shook his head gravely.
"But we've got to prove that he did it first," Jack said as he put a big
chunk of wood in the stove.
"And I'm afraid that will be a hard thing to do," his father declared.
"You see it's against the law for a druggist to sell arsenic, and for
that reason whoever sold it to him is not going to own up to it."
"How about doing any more cutting on that strip?" Bob asked.
"I don't think we'd better risk it," his father answered after a
moment's thought. "It would probably end in a fight and it isn't worth
it. Court sits week after next and I'll have the matter settled then."
They talked matters over until the dinner horn sounded. Mr. Golden said
that he and Mr. Switzer would have to leave soon after dinner in order
to catch the afternoon train for Skowhegan, as he had to attend an
important directors' meeting at the bank the next morning.
The four horses arrived soon after the two men left, and the following
morning saw three teams hard at work trying to catch up on the hauling.
The sick horses were rapidly recovering, and Sam declared that they
would be able to work in a day or two.
All that day the two boys worked with the crew cutting down the big
spruce trees, rejoicing in the thought that every one added to those
already cut, brought their father so much nearer to the fulfillment of
his contract. It had been moderating all day, and toward nightfall it
began to rain.
"Looks like we're in fer a thaw," Tom declared as they entered the mess
room for supper.
Soon the rain was coming down in a steady pour, which lasted until about
eight o'clock, when the wind shifted into the northwest and the mercury
began to fall rapidly. In another half hour the rain had ceased, and
with a sigh of relief Tom stepped to the door of the office and glanced
at the thermometer hanging just outside.
"Faith and she's tumbled twenty degrees in the last hour," he declared,
coming back into the room. "There'll be one peach of a crust in the
mornin' I'm thinkin'."
The next day was Sunday and the boys had decided to get an early start
and spend the day with their Indian friend, Kernertok.
"Hurrah!" Jack shouted, when, just as day was breaking the next morning,
he rushed out of the bunk house, closely followed by Bob. "There's a
crust strong enough to hold a horse."
It was many degrees below zero, and as he had declared, the surface of
the snow was frozen solid.
"I really believe we can skate on it," Bob asserted as he slid about on
the smooth surface.
"Of course we can," Jack agreed eagerly. "And it's mighty lucky we
brought our skates with us."
After a hurried breakfast they got their skates from the office and
quickly exchanging their moccasins for shoes they were soon skimming
over the surface of the lake on their way to Kernertok's cabin.
"It's almost as good as ice to skate on," Jack declared, and his brother
agreed with him.
Thanks to the crust they reached the cabin much sooner than they had
expected and found Kernertok eating his breakfast. Kernertok was very
glad to see them, as was also Sicum, his faithful dog.
The day passed quickly, as days spent with him always did, and almost
before they were aware of it, it was time to start for the camp.
As they skated along side by side, with long swinging strokes which bore
them rapidly over the surface of the lake, Bob said suddenly:
"Jack, boy, we've got to prove that Ben Donahue poisoned those horses.
If we don't he'll find some way to hold the crew up long enough to make
father forfeit that contract. But if we can prove that he did it, we'll
have a club to hold over him and can make him be good."
They were only about a mile from the camp as Bob spoke, and, as if by
one impulse, both stopped.
"You're right, of course," Jack said as he stooped to tighten a strap.
"But how are we going to do it? You remember what father said about it
being next to impossible to find out where he got the stuff."
"I remember it all right, but I've been thinking about it all day and I
believe there's a chance. It's a mighty slim one, I'll admit, but it's a
chance."
"All right, spring it," Jack said eagerly.
"Well, it's like this. He must have had the arsenic either in a bottle
or a box, and if we could find it, it might tell us what we want to
know. Now he either threw it away or else he took it back with him, and
I'm counting on his having taken it back to his office. You know in some
ways he's rather stupid, though smart enough in others."
"I guess I get what you're driving at," Jack declared as Bob paused.
"You mean that it's up to us to search his office for that bottle, hey?"
"You guessed it the first time," Bob smiled. "What do you think of the
idea?"
"Mighty risky."
"Granted; and what's more, not likely to be successful," Bob agreed.
"But it's a chance. Anything better to offer?"
"I didn't mean to throw any cold water on the plan," Jack assured him
with a smile. "I really like the idea, and as you say it's the only way
that even has a hint of success. I've always thought I'd make a dandy
burglar. When do we make the try?"
"The sooner the better, I'd say. How about tomorrow night? I don't want
to do it on the Sabbath."
"Tomorrow night it is then," Jack agreed without hesitation.
"Not a word to a soul, even to Tom," Bob cautioned. "He wouldn't let us
go if he knew it."
They reached the camp just in time for supper, and as soon as the meal
was over Bob got his guitar and for nearly two hours the room rang with
the music of the old hymns.
The cold weather continued and the next day the horses which had been
sick were again put to work, and at quitting time that night the teams
had caught up with the work and the last log felled was loaded on to a
sled just as the supper horn sounded.
"Now I fale better," Tom declared as he led the way to the mess house.
It was shortly after ten o'clock that night when the chorus of snores in
the bunk house struck the key, as Bob afterward told Jack, which assured
him that all the men were asleep. Jack occupied the bunk directly over
them and as he had been conscious of no movement "on the upper deck" for
the past thirty minutes, he guessed that his brother had fallen asleep.
Reaching up, he gave the slats a push, and immediately a low whisper
assured him that he had misjudged him.
Very quietly the two boys slid to the floor and started pulling on their
clothing, and a few minutes later they were sitting on the steps of the
office fastening on their skates.
"Gee, but it sure is cold," Jack declared, as he pulled his heavy
mittens on to his nearly numbed hands. "Thirty-five below," he announced
a moment later, as he glanced at the thermometer by the light of his
pocket flash.
It was very dark, as there was no moon and a slight haze rendered the
stars all but invisible, although now and then bright streaks lighted up
the sky as the weird Northern lights sent their mysterious streamers up
and down the heavens.
"There, I guess we're about ready to start," Bob declared, as he thrust
a pair of soft doeskin moccasins in his pocket.
But just at that moment Jack laid his hand on his brother's arm with a
low hist of warning. His sharp ears had caught the sound of crackling
snow crust off to the right. Hastily he unlaced his shoes and, slipping
them off with the skates still attached, he substituted a pair of
moccasins similar to the ones his brother had put in his pocket.
"Wait a minute, Bob, I'll be right back. I just heard a noise off there
in the direction of the bunk house and I'm going to see what it was,"
and he glided away in the darkness with noiseless steps, while Bob, with
his skates still on, hobbled into the office, where it was comparatively
warm.
Ten minutes passed.
"Wonder what's keeping him," he thought.
Five more minutes went by.
"If he don't come in another five minutes I'll go look him up," Bob
declared half out loud.
The five minutes slipped away and no Jack came.
"Hope he hasn't got into trouble," he thought, as he also quickly
substituted moccasins for the heavy shoes.
Outside the door he stood and strained his ears. A light wind swayed the
tops of the pines and spruces with a faint moaning sound, but otherwise
perfect silence reigned throughout the deep forest.
"He said over by the bunk house," he muttered, as he started off in that
direction, making not the slightest sound as his moccasined feet struck
the snow.
In a moment the rough side of the bunk house loomed out of the darkness
directly in front of him, and again he stopped and listened. No sound
came to tell him what had become of his brother.
"Mighty funny," he thought, as he turned the corner of the building and
groped his way step by step along the back.
As he neared the other corner he stumbled over an object lying on the
snow. A flash from his light showed him that it was a gallon oil can. He
picked it up and, unscrewing the top, smelled of the contents.
"Gasoline," he whispered. "Now I wonder what that's doing out here." And
then the thought struck him that he did not remember ever having seen a
can of that kind anywhere about the camp. Throwing the light of his
flash about him, he eagerly searched for tracks, but the surface of the
snow was as hard as ice and he could see nothing which gave him the
slightest clue. Carrying the can in his hand, he crept around the
building until he had made a complete circuit.
"And I know just as much as when I started," he thought as he listened
again. "One thing is sure though," he muttered. "Something has happened
or Jack would have been back long before this."
After waiting a moment in deep thought, he decided that he had better go
back to the office.
"He may have turned off and came around another way and be waiting for
me all the time," he thought.
But the hope was vain for, as he approached the little office, no answer
came to his low whistle.
He had brought the oil can with him, and having stepped inside the door
he examined it more closely by the aid of his flash. It was a very
ordinary can and he had about given up the hope of obtaining a clue from
it, when his eye caught sight of two letters in the tin near the bottom.
B. D. he made out, and a slight shudder passed down his back as a
horrible thought struck him.
"B. D. stands for Ben Donahue. Someone came here with that can of gas
intending to set fire to the bunk house," flashed through his mind, as
he stood rooted to the spot. "Jack must have discovered him or them and
they gave it up. But what have they done with Jack?" And another shudder
shook him as he realized that the boy was probably in the power of
someone who was desperate enough to set fire to a building in which many
men were sleeping.
"What shall I do? What can I do?" were the questions which flashed
through his mind over and over again.
And then a sudden feeling of hope came to him as he remembered that
Jacques Lamont was there, and in almost no time he was inside the bunk
house creeping softly toward the farther end where he knew Jacques was
sleeping. He thought he knew the right bunk and as he reached the end of
the room a flash showed him that he was right. The Frenchman was in a
lower bunk and kneeling on the floor Bob put his lips as close as
possible to his ear and whispered, "Jacques."
The man stirred and Bob placed his hand over his mouth and at the same
time whispered again.
"It's Bob, Jacques. Don't make a noise but get your clothes on and meet
me outside as soon as you can."
Bob did not have long to wait, as Jacques joined him almost as soon as
he was outside the house. Bob quickly led the way to the office and as
soon as they were inside he pulled down the shades and lighted the lamp.
He then told the Frenchman what had happened.
"What do you think about it?" he asked, as soon as he had finished.
"I tink it ver' serious matter, oui," Jacques said slowly shaking his
head.
"No doubt about that," Bob agreed. "But what shall we do about it?"
"I tink we go ver' queek down to dat camp, see what we see."
"My idea exactly," Bob said as he glanced at his watch. "Had we better
get Tom?"
"I tink non," the Frenchman answered after a moment's thought. "Tom he
geet ver' mooch excite, oui. He mak' too mooch noise. We go find Jack.
Me ver' strong. You ver' queek, oui. We geet heem."
Bob was not at all sure that he was doing right in taking the
Frenchman's advice, but he knew that he was right in his judgment of the
Irishman. As brave as the traditional lion, Tom was very impulsive and
Bob believed that this was a time when judgment and wits should be used
rather than brute force. So he decided not to wake the foreman. Opening
the top drawer of a desk, which stood at one end of the room, he took
out a couple of automatics.
"I hope we won't have any use for them, but it's better to be careful
than sorry," he said, as he handed one to the Frenchman and slipped the
other in his pocket.
As they stepped out of the office Bob noticed that it was warmer and
that the haziness had increased.
"Wouldn't wonder if it snowed before morning," he said.
"Eef she get warm enough she may snow," Jacques agreed.
It was so dark in the woods that they were obliged to go slowly to avoid
striking the trees, and Bob chafed at their slow progress. Every little
while they stopped to listen, but no sound save that caused by the wind,
which was gradually growing stronger, came to their ears.
It was eleven o'clock when they started, and Bob's watch told him that
over an hour had passed when he almost ran into a thick clump of bushes
which he at once recognized as the spot where he and Jack had hidden and
from behind which he had shot the jug from the hand of the man.
"We're almost there," he said in a low tone, catching Jacques by the
arm.
"Oui, I know thees place ver' well," the Frenchman whispered back, as he
came to a halt. "We have to be ver' careful now."
The construction of Donahue's camp was very similar to that which they
had just left. There was the office, the mess house, bunk house and
horse shed.
As silently as two ghosts they stole forward until they stood only a few
feet from the office, the building which was nearest to their own camp.
Not a light was visible in any of the buildings as they stood and
eagerly gazed about them. Slowly they crept around the small building,
pausing every few feet to listen with ear pressed close to the walls.
But no sound was to be heard, and silently they made their way to the
bunk house, where they repeated the performance with a like result. Only
the snores and grunts of the sleeping men came faintly to their ears.
The mess house and the horse shed were treated in like manner and with
the same result.
"If they've got him here anywhere they're keeping mighty quiet about
it," Bob whispered, as they stood once more beside the office. "I'm
going to have a look in here," he declared as he tried the door.
It was locked, as he had expected it would be, but at the back they
found a small window which was not fastened.
"You keep watch outside here, Jacques, while I see what I can find
inside," Bob proposed as he carefully pushed up the window.
He did not know whether or not anyone slept in the office, and at the
moment, being greatly upset over Jack's disappearance, he felt that he
did not care much.
"You better watch, let me geet in," Jacques whispered, taking hold of
the boy's arm. "Mebby someone sleep in thar. He geet you. I ver' strong,
he no geet me."
"That's all right," Bob returned, "but you can never get those shoulders
of yours through that window. It's too small."
Bob was right, although Jacques would not be convinced until he had
tried. It was a very tight squeeze for Bob, but after much twisting and
squirming he finally got through and dropped lightly to the floor.
Throwing the light of his flash about him, he saw that he was in a small
room fitted up much the same as his father's office. To the right was a
door leading into another room which, from the size of the building, he
judged must be somewhat larger than the one he was in. The door was
closed, but opened easily as he turned the knob. Throwing the rays of
his flash ahead of him he saw that it had been used as a sleeping room,
for on the farther side was a fair sized bed which, from the rumpled
appearance of the bedding, had been occupied not long since.
Slowly, inch by inch, he pushed open the door and stepped into the room.
"I guess there's no--" but that was as far as he got, for at that moment
he heard a slight sound from behind the door.
He started to turn, but before he could get his flashlight around he was
struck a heavy blow on the back of his head. He struggled to keep his
feet but, in spite of his efforts, he felt himself sinking to the floor.
A myriad of stars flashed before his eyes for an instant, then oblivion.