FOUL PLAY
"Now, as you're here, Kiddie, an' we're all so comfortable, an' so
interested in all you've got ter tell us 'bout this yer campin' trip,
what d'yer say ter stoppin' the night along of us?"
Kiddie looked across at Gideon Birkenshaw.
"Dunno, Gid," he answered lightly. "Only I was hankerin' to go down
an' have a look at the cabin."
"Cabin's all right," objected Gideon. "Cabin won't run away. What's
the good of goin' down thar, a cold dark night like this? Better by
far wait till mornin', an' see it by daylight. Rooms haven't bin
dusted, beds haven't bin aired, fires ain't lighted. Supper 'll be
ready soon, an', say, thar's a great pile o' letters lyin' waitin' for
you on the window ledge back of you."
Kiddie turned and glanced at the formidable pile, but he did not move
to open any of the letters.
"Oh, all right, Gid," he said, flinging a leg over the arm of the
easy-chair in which he was sitting. "I'll stay. Of course I'll stay."
He had brought the canoe ashore in the creek at Grizzly Notch, instead
of at his own landing-place nearer the cabin. Rube's injured leg was
still painful, and he had to be helped up the steep trail to
Birkenshaw's camp. So Kiddie had not yet visited his wood-land retreat.
There was a large party of them at supper. In addition to Abe Harum,
Tom Lippincott and Jake Paterson, Sheriff Blagg had dropped in on his
way home down the trail from Three Crossings, where he had been to look
at a bunch of horses. During the meal Kiddie was very quiet. It was
Rube Carter who did most of the talking, and who told them of the
battle of Poison Spider Creek and of Kiddie's election as chief of the
Crows.
"I ain't any surprised at Kiddie's refusin' ter take on the chief
business," commented Gideon.
"Not but what he'd make a tip-top Injun chief," added Isa Blagg. "But
I'm figurin' as the time's gone by for a lay-out of that sort. Thar
ain't liable t' be any more Injun wars an' mutinies, an' thar's no need
fer another Sitting Bull. Buffalo huntin's played out, too. Buffaloes
are 'most all killed off. All that's left for the Redskin is to turn
his mind to agriculture, an' thar's heaps of men c'n teach 'em
husbandry better'n Kiddie could."
"That's so, Isa; that's so," agreed Kiddie.
"Say, Sheriff," interposed Rube; "have you gotten any news ter tell us
about that Sanson T. Wrangler business that brought you t' our camp t'
get Kiddie's advice?"
"No." The sheriff shook his head. "No, it all turned out just as
Kiddie said, in every particular."
"And Nick Undrell had nothin' whatever to do with it?" questioned
Kiddie.
"No, Nick was innercent that time," returned Isa. "Nick's been keepin'
on the straight trail since that occasion when you'd a talk with him,
I'm told, however, that he's broken out again--gamblin', drinkin', an'
cavortin' around with the old gang."
"Which reminds me," said Abe Harum. "Nick Undrell's bin seen prowlin'
around this yer camp a good deal lately--since you've bin away on your
trip, Kiddie. I'm kind o' suspicious that he ain't spying around for
no good. Seems he's bin making friends with that big dog, too."
"With Sheila?" Kiddie started upright in his seat. "By the way, where
is she? I haven't seen or heard her since we came back. I wonder she
hasn't discovered that we're here. Where is she?"
"Oh, the hound's all right," Abe Harum assured him. "Guess she's
asleep in her kennel. Pass that tobacco jar, Rube."
Kiddie had a profound faith in his deerhound's sagacity, and he was
more than a little disappointed that she had not yet discovered his
presence in the camp.
He did not again refer to her absence that night, assuming that the
hound could hardly have scented him passing in the canoe, or heard him
landing so far away from the cabin as Grizzly Notch. But when he went
to bed he began to wonder anew. He stood at the open window,
listening, hoping to hear her bark. Hearing no sound but the
whispering of the wind in the trees, he got his feet on a chair and
leant out. He whistled, a long shrill whistle.
Rube Carter was already asleep in the same room. The whistle awoke him.
"What you whistlin' that way for?" Rube asked in alarm. "Shanty ain't
afire, is it?"
"I'm whistling for Sheila," Kiddie told him. "Lie quiet while I listen
if she answers."
"She won't hear you all this way off," said Rube. "Wind's against you."
"So it is," laughed Kiddie, stepping down from the chair. "Never mind!
I shall see her in the morning. Sorry I disturbed you. Good night."
During their camping trip Kiddie and Rube had accustomed themselves to
early rising, and on the following morning they were out and about
before the rest of the household.
Kiddie looked at some of his letters, and then took his towel and went
down to the creek for his morning swim, leaving Rube to help to get the
breakfast ready. Kiddie returned looking astonishingly fresh and clean.
At the end of the meal he sat very silent, watching his companions
taking out their pipes. He seemed to be particularly interested in Abe
Harum, who was feeling in one pocket after another.
"Lost your pipe, Abe?" Kiddie inquired, thrusting a hand into his own
side pocket.
"No," Abe answered. "I got it in my hand. I was feelin' for my
matches."
"Oh, then," returned Kiddie, withdrawing his hand and producing a
briar, "this ain't yours that I found?"
Abe looked at the pipe and shook his head.
"That ain't mine," he said. "Where'd you pick it up, Kiddie?"
"In the spare canoe, when I went down to have a bathe. I supposed
you'd left it there."
"Ain't used that canoe since you've bin away," said Abe. "Nobody's
used it, only Isa, when he went out on the lake t' look for you that
time. Mebbe it's Isa's."
But the sheriff also shook his head.
"'Tain't mine," he said, glancing at the pipe, which Kiddie had pushed
along the table.
Rube Carter took hold of it and began to clear the stale tobacco out of
the bowl with the point of his pocket knife.
Kiddie watched Abe Harum striking a match. It was a safety, with a
brown head.
"What sort of lucifers are yours, Isa?" Kiddie inquired.
Isa Blagg handed him his box, which was partly open, showing about a
dozen matches with pink heads.
"Ah," Kiddie nodded. "Where'd you get 'em?"
"Bought 'em in Brierley's saloon in Laramie," said Isa. "Why?"
"Nothing," replied Kiddie, "only they're the same sort as a broken one
I found in the canoe. Chap as left that pipe must have tried to light
it in a high wind. There was quite half a dozen dead lucifers lyin'
around."
"An' it don't appear as he lighted his pipe after all," added Rube
Carter. "It's as dry as a bone, just as if it hadn't been smoked for
months and months."
Abe Harum leant over and took a pinch of the tobacco ashes, smelling it.
"Thick twist," he said, "strong enough to pull your head off."
Kiddie had taken three dead matches from his pocket and laid them on
the edge of the table in front of Rube.
"See anythin' peculiar 'bout those lucifers, Rube?" he asked.
"Guess I see the same as you do, Kiddie," was Rube's reply. "They're
dirty, an' the charcoal's wore off their tips. Looks as if they'd been
carried in some chap's pocket."
Kiddie stood up.
"Now let's get along t' the cabin," he said. "Will you come, Sheriff?"
Isa and Rube both accompanied him. They went down to Grizzly Notch,
where the still loaded canoe had been left overnight. While Rube was
loosening the painter, Kiddie went aside to the spare canoe, and
searched about on the bank. Presently he stood still, and called Rube
to his side.
"Take stock of that footprint," he began, pointing to the moist ground.
"Horseshoe heel, a toecap, an' two rows of hob-nails; one nail missin'.
D'ye know anythin'?"
Rube shook his head.
"None of our men wears boots like that," he declared. "But I've a idea
I've seen the same impression before--somewhere. Lemme think."
Later, when the three of them were landing at the little pier, close to
Kiddie's cabin, Rube said quietly--
"I remember now, Kiddie, 'bout that footprint--or the boot that made
it. Nick Undrell wears boots nailed an' clamped like that. An' didn't
Abe tell us as Nick had bin seen prowlin' round here? Guess it was
Nick's pipe you found in the canoe. What you whistlin' for?"
"The dog," returned Kiddie. "I want to see Sheila. Go an' fetch her,
Rube."
As Kiddie reached the cabin, he saw that the door was not locked. It
was an inch or two ajar. He pushed it open farther, and strode within.
He sniffed. There was a smell of tobacco smoke in the air. The
living-room was in confusion, the furniture out of place. He ran into
the farther room. Here the confusion was greater. A window-pane was
broken, and the window itself was open.
For the next few minutes he went about opening cupboards and drawers.
Then he heard footsteps on the veranda, and he went back to the front
door.
"Don't come in, Isa! Stay where you are, Rube," he cried. "I've been
robbed! Some one's broken in and gone off with all my jewellery, my
gold watch, my best revolvers, my cash-box with hundreds of pounds in
it. Where's the hound, Rube? Haven't you brought her? Didn't you
find her?"
"I--I found her, Kiddie," Rube stammered, "but I couldn't bring her.
She's dead! Shot dead."