Case dodged deeper into a rocky depression as he spoke, and Alex was not
slow in following him. Three men, all carrying guns, were approaching
from the south, now in full view as they mounted an elevation, now lost
to sight as they dipped into a canyon. The boys watched them furtively.
“I wonder if they saw us?” queried Alex shifting about so as to look
over a stunted shrub growing on the edge of their hiding-place.
“I think not,” Case reasoned, “for they are headed farther to the east.
Looks like they were going up the slope in search of game.”
“I just believe they are the train robbers!” Alex exclaimed, in a
moment. “You know, we were talking, a short time ago, about what a cute
little place this would be for a fugitive to hide in.”
“And they may be hunters, or officers in quest of the robbers,” Case
amended. “Anyway, there’s their camp, to the left of that crag, and
we’ll work over that way as they get farther off. If they did see us,
and are hoping to capture us, the safest thing for us to do is to double
back, like rabbits. Come along!”
Keeping under cover of ridges, sneaking through depressions in the
broken surface, the boys moved toward the spot indicated by Case. In a
few moments they saw that the three men were bearing farther away to the
north and east. This fact relieved their minds of the suspense which the
sight of the advancing men had occasioned, and they made more open
progress.
Directly they came to the camp itself, and were delighted to see that it
was shut out of view from the direction taken by the men by a rocky
ledge.
It was a primitive camp, with boughs dragged up from below serving as
beds. The number of empty food tins scattered about indicated that it
had been in use number of days.
A great coat, ragged and soiled, yet still valuable in that exposed
position because of its thickness and evident warmth, lay on a rock near
the embers of a dying fire. After glancing carefully around to see that
they were still out of sight of the men, Alex picked the garment up and
began a search through the pockets, still whole and mostly empty.
“Have you any idea they left their cards in there?” grinned Case.
“Never can tell,” replied the other. “Sometimes people leave things in
pockets. Anyway there may be a tailor’s label on the coat which will
tell us where it came from.”
He drew out a paper as he spoke and tossed it to one side with the
remark that they were saving up fire-lighters.
“Now, don’t throw that newspaper away,” Case protested. “Hand it here!
It may show the town they visited last. Calgary, date, eh?”
“How old is it?” asked Alex at once interested. “When was it printed, I
mean. That may tell us something.”
“A week ago,” was the reply. “They must have secured it at Donald or
Beaver, for that matter. It will be new to us, anyhow, whatever date it
is. Not much of a newspaper, after all, though.”
“Just don’t be in a hurry!” Alex suggested, as Case laid the newspaper
down on the ground. “There is a marked item in it.”
“Oh, just a few pencil marks,” Case admitted. “Nothing to them.”
“It tells about the train robbers hiding in the mountains,” Alex
explained, reading over the headlines. “And here’s another item under
it. Listen to this, will you?”
“‘Chicago, April 1,’” the boy read aloud. “‘An unprovoked murder was
committed on Wells street late last night. Charles Stiven, employed as
barkeeper at a South Side saloon, was attacked by Richard Miller, of the
importing firm of Durand Miller, and shot to death. The injured man did
not die on the street where the shooting took place, but later expired
at St. Joseph’s hospital, after making a statement which is likely to
hang Richard Miller if he is caught. Miller escaped after the shooting
and had not been captured at the hour of going to press. No reason is
given for the brutal attack.’”
“Rather old news, that,” Case remarked. “Why, we were in Chicago when
that affair took place. Anything more about it?”
“Just a short description of Miller,” was the reply. “It says he is
unusually tall, with—”
The boy stopped and looked up at Case with a question mark in each
excited eye. Then he arose and held the paper out so Case could read the
paragraph where his finger was placed. The boy did so wonderingly.
“Unusually tall, with long arms,’” the boy read, following Alex’s slowly
moving finger. “Now, what do you think of that, young fellow?”
“That’s the man that was on the train,” Alex declared. “That’s the man
Gran talked with in the cedars! That’s the man who took Gran off in our
rowboat! No wonder the lad doesn’t want to say a word about his
adventures on the mountains. What can it all mean?”
“I’m going right back and show this to him!” Case cried. “I’m going to
know all about this. Gran’s got to come through on this, as the police
officers say. Don’t you think that’s what we ought to do?” he asked as
the other looked grave and doubtful.
“We’ve trusted him so far,” Alex replied, “and I see no reason why we
should not continue to do so. Besides, the boy is ill, and must not be
excited. But, look here, that man is undoubtedly still around here
somewhere. Why he sent the boy over the mountains alone is more than I
can say, but a man who will commit an unprovoked murder is equal to
almost anything! We’d better get back to the _Rambler_. He may try to
get the boy away again. We’ll look after this Mr. Richard Miller, all
right!”
“You just bet we will!” was the answer, and the boys, forgetting, for
the moment, the men whose camp they had invaded, crept out of the
tumbled rocks and, once out of range of the three men on the hills,
hastened toward the _Rambler_. Half way to the river, Alex paused.
“I wonder if the men we saw aren’t officers, looking after this Miller
person?” he asked. “They’ve got the description of him, you know.”
“No they haven’t!” chuckled Case. “I brought it away with me.”
“That was a foolish thing to do,” Alex protested. “Now they will know
that their camp has, been visited. I reckon we’d better get the
_Rambler_ under way just as soon as we get to it. If we don’t they’ll
find us and make trouble.”
Case agreed with this view of the matter, and, as they stood on the east
bank of the Columbia, waiting for Clay to run across and get them, they
decided to tell him all about it and to advise an immediate departure
for Upper Arrow lake, where Gran would, they thought, be safe.
Clay was not a little excited at the recital. He agreed with the boys
that they ought to leave at once, and preparations for departure were
accordingly begun. Gran looked on indolently at first, but finally
called Clay to his side and asked:
“Are you going to leave this section of country now?”
“Of course,” was the guarded reply. “We want to get to the Pacific
before snow flies, and we have a long way to go. Besides, we do not want
to remain too long in one place.”
“But you wanted to hunt over on the plateau, this morning,” Gran urged.
“And why did the boys come back from the mountain so soon? Is there
anything wrong?”
“Why, of course not,” Clay answered. “Only we have the moving-on spirit
to-day. We’ll drop down to Revelstoke and get a sight of the Canadian
Pacific right-of-way before night, or, at least, before morning. That
will connect us with civilization, at least,” he added, with a grin.
“I’m afraid the motion of the boat will hurt my leg,” Gran urged, not
looking Clay in the eyes. “I want to get well as rapidly as possible,
you know. Can’t you wait a few days—wait here?”
“I’ll talk with the boys,” Clay promised and went out. When he told them
of the request Gran had made, their eyes stuck out “good and plenty,” as
he afterwards expressed it. It was a puzzle to all of them.
“But why should he want to stay here?” Case asked, in amazement. “Why
shouldn’t he want to get away from a valley which must have unpleasant
recollections for him? He would have died in that hut if we hadn’t
happened along! And the man we’ve been talking about brought him to it
all by taking him away from us. It is the strangest thing I ever heard.”
“He went away with the man willingly,” Clay explained, “at least we saw
him make no attempt to get away when we were close at hand, and might
have helped him. Now, how do we know that he is not waiting in this
valley to meet this man again? This Richard Miller, who is wanted in
Chicago for the crime of murder. I suppose,” he added, thoughtfully,
“that there can be no doubt about the description? The man described in
the newspaper article is the man we saw on the train, the man who talked
to Gran in the cedar canyon, the man who was rowing when Gran passed
down stream and flung the note in the water?”
“Not a doubt of it,” Case asserted. “That is the man—Richard Miller, the
man wanted in Chicago to answer to the crime of murder.”
“But, look here,” said Alex always ready to defend Gran, “stop and think
a minute! If Gran went with this man willingly, why didn’t he stop long
enough to tell us he was going? Why didn’t he tell the man to row up to
the _Rambler_ and let him explain? Why was it necessary for him to put
what he had to say to us on paper, and then stop his writing in the
middle of a sentence. I don’t believe he left us willingly.”
“One reason why the man—this Richard Miller—did not let him come up to
the _Rambler_ was that he had our rowboat—the boat which had been cut
loose from her chain the night before. Say,” he continued, with a blush
and a laugh, “I’m getting this mixed. It was the anchor that he cut
away, and not the boat! At least, I think he did! He wouldn’t want to
come to close quarters with us after doing that, would he?
“Well, he might as well have cut the boat loose,” Clay said, “for he
stole it after it had drifted away. We saw him in it. That’s proof!”
“Well, what are we going to do about it?” asked Case, turning to Clay.
“Let’s stay here and see it out!” Alex interposed.
“That suits me!” Clay answered. “I haven’t lost confidence in Gran yet,
and, besides, there’ll be excitement in it, if what you boys say about
the men on the other side of the river is true—if they are really train
robbers. I think it will be fun to see it out!”
And so it was agreed that they should follow the wishes of the boy and
remain where they were for a time, although they all understood that the
reason given by the lad—that the motion of the boat might affect his
broken leg unfavorably—was not the true one. But another surprise
awaited Clay when he went into the cabin to acquaint Gran of the
decision which had been reached. The boy was half sitting up in his bunk
with a flush on his cheeks which had not been there before.
“I’ll tell you what,” he said, as Clay entered. “I am beginning to think
that my leg ought to have the care of a surgeon. You boys are all
anxious to be on your way, and so why not drop down to Revelstoke? I can
endure the short journey, all right, and we can remain there a few days
until the surgeon has had time to straighten me out.”
“We have all agreed to remain here,” Clay said, with a smile, “but we
can go on just as well as not. We need a glimpse at a town.”
“I don’t want to keep you here,” Gran went on. “When I spoke about
staying here I didn’t think I would need the attention of a surgeon, but
I begin to feel that one ought to be consulted.”
When Clay went out to the others with this new proposition they were
more puzzled than ever.
“Why did he change his mind so suddenly?” was the question Alex asked.
“There’s something back of all this. Do you think he heard us talking
about the train robbers?”
“He might,” answered Clay, and there the subject was dropped.
That night, without mishap on the way, they tied up at Revelstoke, which
is a small town where the Canadian Pacific takes to the valley of the
Columbia river again. They did not succeed in finding a surgeon that
night, the one located there being away, neither did they spend any time
about town, for they thought it best to remain on the boat with the
injured boy.
The next morning Clay found the surgeon at his office and sent him down
to the _Rambler_, himself remaining in a general store to purchase a few
luxuries for the lad. While there he heard considerable talk about the
chase after the train robbers, who were thought to be in that section.
“I’d like to be the one to catch them,” he heard a rough-looking man
saying. “It would be worth $10,000 to me. I need the money!”
“If I could only point them out,” another cut in, “I would be satisfied.
There’s a reward of $5,000 for just locating them.”
Clay left the store with the reward bee buzzing in his cap. They were
not plentifully supplied with money, and a portion of that reward would
be very acceptable. And the three men in the mountains! Perhaps they
were the very men wanted by the officers.
While he walked about, thinking the matter over, the surgeon came into
the one street of the place and stopped him, rather bruskly, he thought.
Clay had an idea that it was his fee he wanted.
“Where did you pick up that boy?” the surgeon asked.
“He came into the country with us,” Clay answered, not very pleasantly,
for he believed that the surgeon was interfering with something that was
none of his business. He turned away, but the other followed.
“You mean that he came from Laggan with you,” he said.
“How do you know that?” demanded Clay, getting angry.
“Well,” sneered the surgeon, “this boy’s description is among those of
the hold-up men. He, or some one looking remarkably like him, was seen
on the pass, in the company of the men who are believed to have held up
the Canadian Pacific train. I’m going now to notify an officer.”
Clay, for a moment, did not answer. What was there he could say?