“It doesn’t seem possible!” Clay exclaimed. “What could have Gran been
doing there? Could you hear what they were saying?”
“Not a word,” was the reply; “they talked in low tones.”
“But I thought Gran was on the boat.”
“Well, he left the boat, alone, just after I did. I saw him go across
the plank and pass into the canyon. Then he turned in another
direction.”
“He was back in the boat when you returned with the rabbit?” asked Clay.
“Of course, he must have been. Well, then, he had very little time to
visit with that fellow. It is a queer proposition.”
“I should say so!” Alex agreed. “Are you going to say anything to him
about it—let him know that we are wise to his doings?”
“I think not,” was the slow reply. “If there is something between the
boy and these men, the way to find out what it is, is to keep still and
sleep with our eyes open. Strange that we should have a mysterious
passenger on this voyage as well as on the one up the Amazon!”
“I hope this one turns out as rich as the other,” Alex grinned.
The breakfast, when finally prepared, was a light one, so the boys had
dinner early and then got under way. It was much more convenient cooking
when the boat was not trying to turn handsprings in the river. Now and
then they came to rapids which any ordinary caution would have warned
them to hesitate before entering, but Clay was anxious to get as far
away from his pursuer as possible in the shortest time allowable, and so
took chances.
In the middle of the afternoon they came to a quiet piece of river some
distance above a stretch of rapids, around which the boat would have to
be carried. They decided to remain here for the night, making ready
during the afternoon and evening to convey the _Rambler_ around the
falls early in the morning.
Clay was careful to anchor the boat on the west side of the river. They
had come a long distance, and if the unwelcome visitor of the morning
had indeed succeeded in keeping up with them by taking to the stream in
a light boat, he would have to show himself if he passed, or even if he
came within a hundreds yards of the _Rambler_ during the afternoon.
“Now,” said Case, as the boat lay rocking in a small cove, “I’ll go and
catch a fish and show you how to cook it. Here we’ve been on the river
two days and haven’t had a bite of fish yet. That is what I call a
burning shame. Do you think I can ride that log of a canoe to the shore?
I’ve got to do my expert cooking under the leafy trees, you see, and so
I’ve got to use the canoe.”
“You might try it,” Clay laughed. “Alex went after fish last evening and
caught a bear, so there is no knowing what you may get.”
“Perhaps an elephant!” laughed Gran.
“Or a bold train robber!” Alex put in, just to see what Gran would say
at the mention of the incidents at the pass.
Gran looked up quickly, but there was no surprise in his face. Instead
he smiled and pointed to a grove of tall cedars on the shore not far
from the edge of the stream.
“That looks like a fine place to fish for train robbers,” he said. “I
have a great mind to go ashore with you to see you get the fish, and
help cook it. I know something about cooking fish!”
“Wait until he gets his fish,” Alex said. “When he comes up with a
corker, big enough for all of us, I’ll help him cook it. I used to cook
in the South Branch until the policeman on the beat came to the cabin
and asked for my pies and things. You know I did, eh, Clay?”
“Yes,” replied Clay, gravely, “you used to cook so well that the
policeman got the habit of asking who cooked the coffee before he tasted
it. If you made it, he had business outside right away.”
“You’re having another dream!” shouted Alex. “If you think I can’t cook,
just watch me serve the cold beans to-night.”
“That is where you shine,” laughed Alex, “serving cold beans!”
During this conversation Case had been getting out his fishing tackle
and leading the canoe around to the side of the _Rambler_ nearest the
shore.
“Are you going with him?” asked Clay, of Gran, hoping to receive an
affirmative reply, for he had decided to follow the lad if he went into
the forest alone.
He was not taking to this role of a spy kindly, for it was with many
twinges of conscience that he had made up his mind to keep a close watch
on the boy.
“I think I’ll go,” Gran, in a moment, answered. “I want to see the big
woods. While Case is cooking his fish on the bank, I can do some
hunting. Another rabbit stew would be about right. I always liked rabbit
stew! We’ll need it, too, if Case doesn’t catch any fish.”
“Don’t you worry about that,” Case broke in. “I’m the one that put the
salmon in the Columbia river.”
“How are you both going to get ashore in that canoe—only half finished
as it is?” asked Clay, presently, as Gran brought his gun and one of the
searchlights from the cabin. “You can’t swim there, very well, for the
water is too cold for pleasure, as Alex discovered not long ago. I don’t
think two can ride in that contraption at the same time,” he added.
Alex scratched his head. It was plain to Clay that the boy was on the
same line of thought as himself. He, too, wanted Gran to go ashore so
that he might be followed.
How was it to be arranged so that the canoe could be brought back to the
_Rambler_ after each boy had landed? Then the boy laughed softly to
himself, wondering that he had ever given the matter a second thought.
“I’ll tell you!” he cried. “I’ll tie a long rope to the canoe, and when
Case gets ashore I’ll pull it back. Then, when Gran gets ashore, I’ll
pull it back again, so there will be no chance for any one to steal it.”
“Great head, Alex!” grinned Case, dropping off into the canoe and tying
a longer and stronger line to the prow, in order that it might be drawn
back to take Gran to the shore. “You’ll be president of some small
country town yet. Now, don’t pull on that line, young man,” he
continued, as the rope slipped through Clay’s fingers. “Just let her
play out easily, and I’ll have no trouble with the old scow!”
He paddled to the shore easily enough, landing on a little sandy spot
where hundreds of years of wash of water from the hills had ground soft
rock to bits. Back of him ran the forest of cedar, and back of that the
western ridges of the Rocky mountains.
“Pull her back, now!” he cried, taking his fishing tackle out of the
canoe, “and have Gran bring some matches. I forgot it.”
“Where are you going to get your fish?” mocked Alex. “There are no
fishes along that shallow shore.”
“Never you mind about that!” answered Clay. “See that pool just below
the rock? Well, there is a big one in there that I’m going to have for
supper. When I get him caught, you can come and help get his feathers
off, Alex.”
“All right,” Alex answered, pulling the rude canoe back, very glad of
the suggestion that he go ashore with the boys, “I’ll be there watching
you when you haul him out.”
Gran now entered the canoe and paddled ashore. The new canoe was not
much of a craft. It was just a cedar log on the outside and a black
trough on the inside. Still, the boys figured that it would save them
many a wetting, for there were places shrewd smile on his face, and Alex
knew just what that smile meant.
“Do you think he’ll meet our Robin Hood friend again?” Clay asked.
“I think he wants to meet some one,” was the reply. “He never went
ashore just to hunt. Who’s to go after him?”
“Perhaps you would better go,” Clay answered, reluctantly, for he was
aching for a turn in the woods. “He’ll not suspect you of anything more
than a trick if he sees you following him.”
“What did he take that searchlight for?” asked Alex.
“I can’t answer any questions about the boy,” Clay replied, with an
expressive shrug of the shoulders. “He appears innocent, loyal, and
honest, but he is mixed up in some game which I believe him to be
playing under compulsion. You see if it doesn’t come out that way.”
“While I’m away,” Alex went on, “you might take another look for the
films. It is quite important that we get them.”
“And when we do,” Clay interrupted, “what do you think we will find
there? Just give a guess about it!”
“Unless I’m mistaken,” the other replied, “we’ll find a picture of a
tall man with long arms peering out of a canyon back of a campfire.”
“Just my notion! But who is this tall man with long arms, and why does
Gran meet him in the forest, and say nothing to us about it? If he is in
trouble, why doesn’t he put it up to us to help him?”
“Well, well, well,” chuckled Alex, “here we stand talking about films
that never existed, about a campfire that never was, about a pass never
on any map, about a pursuer who never lived! And over there on the shore
Case is building a big fire. Now, Clay, just remember that there never
were any films! We’re not going to have this trip spoiled with any
mystery! What is Case building his fire for before he catches a fish?”
“He’ll probably dig a hole in the ground, fill it full of hot rocks, and
make a regular oven of it, before he gets the fish. Then, when he has
the bird, fresh from the river, he’ll heat up the rocks again, wrap the
fish in leaves and put it into the oven, with hot rocks on top of it and
under it, and cover the whole outfit up with leaves and earth.”
“Is that the way to bake fish in the woods?”
“That surely is the way,” answered Clay. “Now, you see. Gran has gone
into the forest. Perhaps you’d better be getting ashore.”
“I just don’t like this sleuthing business a little bit!” the boy
grumbled, as they drew the canoe back to the _Rambler_.
“It seems to be necessary,” Clay replied. “If we are ever to acquit
Gran, in our minds, of all crookedness, we’ve got to know the truth, and
the only way to learn the truth, it seems to me, is to find it out for
ourselves.”
“That’s just it!” Alex agreed. “If this was to be done to get the kid
into trouble I wouldn’t be mixed up in it, but as it is to get him out
of trouble. I’ll go to the limit.”
Alex paddled off to the shore, which was not very far away, and Clay saw
him stop for a moment and talk with Case then dive into the forest. By
this time the sunshine had left the valley of the Columbia. Away over to
the west, beyond the ridges, it would shine on the broken country—on a
new world in the making—for an hour or more, but here its rays were
stopped by the peaks which shone, white and still, above the cedars.
Clay sat for a long time, watching Case angling for the “big one,” he
had mentioned, and listening to the call of birds high up in the air.
Like all feathered things they were abandoning the lower levels and
sweeping in swinging circles up into the sky to catch the latest rays of
the sinking sun. Their wings glistened golden in the light and their
musical voices came down soothingly.
Case caught his fish, after a time, and proceeded to heat more pieces of
broken rock for his primitive oven. Clay sat watching him piling embers
on the mound after he had filled it with leaves and earth. It was
growing dark there now, and no hint of the return of Gran or Alex had
come. Finally Case called from the shore:
“I’m going to bring this fish over to the _Rambler_ directly. Have you
got the coffee and potatoes ready?”
No, Clay had not once thought of the coffee and potatoes, he had been so
busy watching Case and thinking of what might be taking place in the
forest.
He hastened to the cabin, built up a great fire in the heater, set a
kettle of potatoes over, switched on the electric stove, put the
coffee-pot on, and then turned to the little table.
Captain Joe, who had been asleep when Alex left, which accounted for his
being there at all, lay on the floor playing with Teddy. The two had
already become firm friends.
The sight of the dog brought a notion to Clay’s mind. Why not send
Captain Joe into the forest to look the boys up? He would do it, if told
to, and would be sure to come back if he failed to find them.
“Here, Captain Joe,” the boy said, “don’t you want to go and find Alex?
Put on your hunting shoes and go find Alex.”
Captain Joe sprang to his feet instantly, tumbling Teddy over in a heap
as he did so and, advancing the deck railing, looked over to the woods.
Clay took one of Alex’s shoes and one of Gran’s handkerchiefs into his
hands and let Captain Joe sniff at them.
“Now you know whom to look after,” he grinned at the intelligent dog,
“and won’t go loafing around Case, even if he is cooking supper.”
Clay got the dog into the canoe, though it was a wonder, more than once
during the operation, that it didn’t tip over, and, taking up the
paddle, started for the shore.
Case saw him coming and ran toward the shore to meet him. Captain Joe
arose to get foothold for a spring, and the canoe went over, landing
both the boy and the dog in twenty feet of water. It did not take them
long to get to the shore, where Captain Joe cleared himself of water by
a few vigorous shakes and Clay threw off his outer clothing to dry them
by the fire.
“You’re a fine dog!” grumbled Clay, as he stood before the blaze of dry
cedar branches. “I give you a chance to have a run on shore, and you go
and give me a ducking in the river!”