THE GUM HUNTER’S CLUE
With these words, Lafe turned and walked swiftly away, leaving Garry
standing there dumbfounded for the moment. There was much food for
thought in what Green had just said. In the first place, Garry had
little idea that he would see Green at all, and could not understand
how he had gotten bail for his freedom. Then came the recollection
that the man had several friends around this particular section, and
undoubtedly had quite a little money himself, made out of some of
his illegal practices, such as the smuggling at which he had been
caught only a comparatively short time ago.
The threat of harm did not worry Garry particularly. He and his
chums had so often been in tangles that it did not faze him.
What did cause him the most concern was why Lafe should want them to
leave town. Of course he would be vengeful about the part they
played in his arrest, but that would hardly make him follow them and
give a specific warning.
Lafe and LeBlanc had been mixed up in the smuggling plot, and to
Garry it required no great stretch of the imagination to figure that
they might again be working in cahoots.
There was no particular use in following him, since he would
probably go to his home, and had possibly been seen by some of the
people in the town.
Deciding that he could do nothing, Garry hastened homeward, and
found that his friends had already arrived. They asked him what had
kept him so long, and he exploded a bombshell under their feet when
he told them of his meeting with Green.
“Now if we find out anything that connects the tramps with this
outfit as I suggested a while ago, we’ll have a pretty pack of
villains, won’t we?” asked Dick.
“I don’t think the tramps have anything to do with this, much as
you’d like to have it so, Dick,” said Garry.
“There’s one thing we might do a bit later if we deem it advisable,”
suggested Phil, “and that’s make a little tour of investigation of
Green’s house as you did last time, Garry. We know of the secret
entrance to the house, and that would simplify getting inside.”
“We’d have to have pretty good clues to make us do that again,”
decided Garry. “That last time was a pretty risky piece of business,
and luck was with us all the time. However, we shall see what later
developments will bring about. Now I move we say goodnight and crawl
off to bed.”
Ruth had been an interested listener all this time, and she implored
the boys to let her help if they would.
“I’d just love to think that I helped in any way to round up the
people that have been sending those horrid letters,” she said with
bated breath.
The boys laughed, and assured her that if they could use her in any
way to play detective they would surely call on her. They said
nothing concerning the new developments in the postal situation,
deeming it wiser to keep this matter a secret until the arrival of
the inspector.
Next morning after breakfast they set about taking photographs of
the letters. They did not think it highly necessary that this be
done, but there was little they could do until the arrival of the
man from the postoffice department, and besides, Dick was anxious to
try out his skill as a photographer. He was fairly adept already,
and was always trying to add to his experience.
“Now how are you going to treat that fingerprint, Garry?” asked
Dick.
“I won’t promise that it will be altogether successful; all I know
about doing it is something I read in a newspaper once. It seems
that the way they photograph prints is to cover the spot with some
specially prepared dark powder and that catches on the ridges of the
print left by the finger. Now we haven’t any of that particular kind
of powder, so we’ll have to invent something.”
“Let Uncle Dudley here come to bat with a bright suggestion,” said
Phil. “Suppose we just take an ordinary lead pencil and scrape on
the lead until we have sufficient powder for the purpose?”
“Fine. I believe that will do the trick,” responded Garry.
A pencil was quickly procured and Garry scraped a little heap of
graphite powder while Dick prepared to take the pictures.
He procured a board and tacked the letters on it, and then set it
against the house where the bright sunlight would strike it with
full force.
“I’m going to give this a time exposure,” he told the boys. “This
kind of work is generally done with artificial light, using an extra
powerful bulb; but I think with this bright sunlight and a time
exposure instead of a snapshot, we will be able to do a good job.”
Dick snapped the various letters, all except the one with the greasy
imprint on it. This was held to the last, and when he was ready the
board was laid flat while Garry sprinkled the powder on the print.
Then the board was tilted so that all the surplus scrapings would
slide off, leaving only those that adhered to the ridges. They were
delighted when they found that they could almost make out the
complete design of the print.
“I’m no judge of such matters, but I venture to say that there’s
enough of a print there for any purposes of identification. Snap
away,” said Garry.
Aunt Abbie and Ruth and her grandfather had been interested
spectators during this operation, and as soon as the photographing
of the letters was completed, Ruth asked if the boys would not take
a snapshot of the entire group.
Dick said he would be glad to, and was arranging the members of the
little party in a compact group, when the gate was opened and a man
walked up the path. He was a lean, sallow looking man, and as he
observed the three boys, he said:
“Am I right in supposing that one of you is Garry Boone?”
Garry stepped forward and said that was his name.
“My name is Simmons, and I’m from the postoffice department.”
Here was the expected inspector, and the boys crowded forward to
shake hands with him. Garry acted as master of ceremonies, and
introduced all the party to Simmons.
“We’re whiling away a few minutes taking pictures. Won’t you step in
and we’ll have a complete group; a regular illustration for ‘The
Mystery of the Threatening Letters,’” said Dick with a laugh.
Simmons appeared to hesitate for a moment, and then with a smile
stepped in beside Aunt Abbie and in another minute the picture was
snapped.
The boys neglected to mention the fact that they had taken pictures
of the letters—not meaning to conceal anything—but they were eager
to have Simmons go with them to the postoffice where they could
begin work on the mystery.
Simmons went into the house to question Mr. Everett, and while he
was talking, Dick removed the letters from the board and gave them
to Ruth to carry to Simmons. They followed in a few moments, as soon
as Dick had taken out the film, which had been exhausted, and
substituted a new one for more snaps.
“I’ll take charge of these letters,” said Simmons. “I don’t know
that you boys can be of a great deal of help. In fact I am of the
opinion that the less you are seen in connection with the case, the
better. Now I’m going to be perfectly frank with you. I don’t see
why boys were sent to mix in this case at all. It would have been
far better to have me here alone, where I could work with some of
the necessary secrecy that the case demands. Which reminds me, also,
that no one here is to tell anybody what my business is.”
This had been delivered in a rather snappy tone, and the boys were
somewhat hurt at the attitude taken by the inspector.
“Now get us right on this matter, please, Mr. Simmons. You won’t
find us making any silly suggestions to you how to do your work, and
as for our being here, boys or not, we came simply on the orders of
our superior. We are in the service of the State of Maine, and as
such are bound to obey orders, whatever duty may be assigned to us.
We were fortunate enough to give some slight assistance on the other
matters here, and it is probably for that reason that the Chief
Ranger had us come here.”
“Slight assistance indeed,” burst out Ruth. “Why, Mr. Simmons, they
were the only ones that did anything on that smuggling business. All
the treasury man had to do was bring handcuffs and arrest the men
after the boys had found out who was in the ring, and everything
that had to do with the fur and diamond smuggling.”
“Oh, I don’t mean that you may not prove to be of valuable
assistance,” Simmons hastened to say. “I merely thought that I would
get a good line on what is what, and it wouldn’t do for us to be
seen in company too much, for that would tip our hand to the ones
who are stealing the mailed checks.”
This seemed good logic to the boys, and so it was agreed that the
only time they should meet would be after nightfall and at Aunt
Abbie’s home.
Simmons decided to go alone to the postoffice, and the boys, seeing
there was nothing they could do for the present, determined to get
some supplies and go to their old lean-to and put it in shape for
habitation during their stay in that section.
They procured their groceries and wandered down the leafy forest
lane to their old camping ground. They found the lean-to in
excellent condition. All that needed to be done was to fix up stones
for their campfire and cut new boughs for a “mattress” on which to
lay their blankets.
“What do you think of this man Simmons?” asked Dick, as they set out
for a little clump of balsams to get boughs.
“Don’t know just what to say offhand,” answered Garry. “I can say,
however, that he seems to be a little peeved at our being here to
help him out. Of course I realize that it is a cheeky thing for a
pack of boys to be sent to help a man that knows his business, or is
supposed to know it, but orders are orders.”
“Well, maybe it is cheeky; but without being stuck on ourselves, I
don’t think the smuggler band would have been run down without our
help; or to put it more modestly, without the help of someone more
familiar with the ways of the woods than a city man from Washington.
However, we’ll do just what he tells us to, and let it go at that,”
said Phil, as he swung his hatchet and knicked off a few boughs.
“That isn’t my idea at all,” interrupted Dick. “We will in all
probability not be asked to give any help at all if my impression of
this man is correct. Therefore I move that we do a little work on
our own hook and see what we can do ourselves. If we find any clue
that is really promising, we can turn it over to Simmons. If he
accepts it, all well and good; we will know that he appreciates the
help. If he doesn’t, we can go on quietly ourselves and do what we
can. If we are fortunate enough to get the right clue that will lead
to the real culprit, we will offer it to him again. Then if he bars
us and pays no attention to it, the best thing to do will be to
communicate with the Chief Ranger at Augusta and get his advice as
to what to do. How does that strike you fellows?”
“Sounds good to me,” said Garry, “but I think you chaps are building
a mountain out of a mole hill. If we find something that means
anything, it will give the inspector a good impression of us, and we
will then be asked to give all the help we can. However, only a
little time will tell what is going to happen, and the first thing
to do is to find some real evidence that will help the case. Until
we do that we can’t claim to be much good, and I wouldn’t blame the
man for not wanting us to be bothering around.”
“Well, then, let’s follow our usual custom and hold a council of
war,” suggested Phil, as they started back to the lean-to with their
arms full of the fragrant balsam boughs.
This suggestion was hailed with delight by the others, and at the
lean-to they made haste to spread the boughs to that they would make
comfortable bunks, and then sitting Hindu fashion on the ground
between the two branch lean-tos, opened the council.
Garry was the appointed leader of the boys on all expeditions. This
had held true ever since they had first become friends, for Garry
was a year older than the others, and possessed of a level head. His
was a forceful personality that made him a born leader. Yet there
was never a complaint on the part of the others against Garry’s
leadership, for he possessed the fine trait of never being “bossy.”
An important step was always discussed before a decision was made,
and when there was any doubt, a vote was taken after each man had
had his say. Oftentimes they decided such matters as who should
perform certain duties by drawing lots, using three twigs, the man
getting the shortest being named for the job.
“All right, now,” said Garry. “Who has suggestion number one?”
“I believe that I have a hunch,” answered Phil. “Perhaps I am all
wrong and am just trying to paint a villain blacker than he is; but
I cannot get it out of my head that the halfbreed is mixed up in
this some way. Perhaps he is not the brains of the organization, but
Lafe Green might be. He is a cunning man, versed in all kinds of
villainy, and with LeBlanc’s bravery, for bad as he is, you must
give him credit for being fearless, they make a dangerous
combination. Lafe Green can command a certain type of men by holding
influence over them, and LeBlanc can lead certain kinds through
making them fear him. Then they seem to be mixed up in any mess that
we come in contact with. I move we start on the premise that they
are the ones.”
“Good logic, there,” said Garry, “and there is only one way to find
out whether or not your hunch is true. That is by following them all
and either pinning something on them, or finding that they are
guiltless.”
“Of all the crowd that we have run afoul of in the past few weeks,”
said Phil, “who is still at large?”
“Why, let me see,” said Garry. “I can think of only three. There are
the LeBlanc brothers and Lafe Green. Of course we don’t know how
many confederates there are for this outfit, but there should not be
many. Most of them were cleaned up at the time of the smuggling.
Then, too, this kind of business is something that does not require
a great deal of help. The threatening letters could be sent by one
man, and the mail robbery would not need many. I am inclined to
think there is inside help somewhere in that. Yes, there are only
three that I can think of.”
“Wait a minute, now,” interrupted Dick. “You forget the tramps.”
“Maybe, but I doubt it. There is nothing to make us think they would
have become acquainted with Green and his outfit, and besides they
have seen us a couple of times and failed to recognize us. That was
natural, because we are dressed differently and are tanned up so
that our own families would hardly recognize us. If they had been
part of the Green-LeBlanc outfit, they would have been told of us,
and when they saw us would have made it known in some fashion. I
think they are only in this section because it is close to the
border, and they can keep out of sight. Perhaps they are laying
plans for some sort of a crime around here. At any rate, it would be
well to watch them and if possible effect their capture, for they
are wanted in Portland for jumping their bail. Well, that being put
aside for the moment, what is our first step?”
“I suggest first that we have a quiet talk with Denton, since we
were not allowed to be in the conference between him and Simmons.
Then I move that we take a little trip to Green’s house and try to
get in by way of the secret passage as you did the other time,
Garry,” said Phil.
“That sounds good to me. I think we could do it, for there was never
anything said about our knowing it. If we had been discovered that
time, they would either have blocked the passage up, or made some
provision for keeping prying people out when they were holding a
conference. Suppose we set tomorrow night for the trial and draw
lots for the one to go?” offered Garry.
“All right except for one thing,” said Phil. “I suggest that the
lots be drawn only between Dick and me. You had the thrill and the
adventure last time, so that ought to let you out, Garry.”
“Suits me, but I don’t like to think of you chaps doing anything as
dangerous as that might easily be, without being in on it.”
“Well, you did your duty the other time, and there will be no one to
say that you are backing out of danger, for you aren’t. Phil and I
are backing you out ourselves, so you can console yourself with that
thought,” said Dick with a laugh.
The lots were drawn, and to his inward delight, Dick was the lucky
man.
“That seems to be all that we can do for the present,” remarked
Garry. “Suppose we rest a bit and have dinner, then let Dick take a
few pictures and wander back to town and have a talk with Denton.”
This was the course agreed upon, and Phil wandered into the woods in
search of squirrels for a squirrel pie.
He was back in an hour with four beauties, and Dick was set to
skinning while Phil made the necessary dough for the pie crust.
All busied themselves in the task of preparing the dinner, and soon
it was ready. They had barely sat down, when a voice startled them.
“M-m-m, that coffee smells powerful good,” said the voice, and the
boys looked up to see a man standing near them.
“Well, if it isn’t our old friend, the gum hunter,” cried Garry.
And so it was. The gum hunter; meaning a man who made a part of his
living by wandering through the woods collecting spruce gum to sell
to the drug stores throughout the state, who had made their
acquaintance on their previous visit and at that time had given them
a tip that stared them on the quest of the smugglers that had ended
so successfully.
“Sit in and have pot luck with us,” invited Dick.
“Don’t know but what I will; was getting pretty hungry, and since I
was round near, thought I’d come here and fix myself some lunch.
Often come here because I can build a campfire at the same place,
and generally have a few old branches cut to use. Two or three times
I’ve slept here to save bother of going all the way back to town,
especially when I wanted an early start in the morning,” said the
gum hunter.
They finished their dinner, and were about to clean up, when the gum
hunter bade them wait.
“Callate I’ll have to furnish something towards this eatin’,” he
told them, and carefully delving into his pack brought forth a flat
package. “This is a home-made apple pie, and I hope ’tain’t squashed
up much, though I bin carryin’ it since morning. That’ll cut four
ways, and make good big pieces. ’Tain’t none of your miserable
little bakery pies.”
“Gosh,” said Dick, “that’s just what I need to top off my dinner.
Garry, pass the coffeepot.”
“Now what might you boys be doing back here? Setting out to catch
more smugglers? Saw Lafe Green in town again last night, and
wherever he is there’s bound to be contraband running across the
border.”
The boys knew that the old man was reliable and trustworthy, and one
who could be relied upon not only to keep a tight mouth about any
confidence that was given him, but one who could give sound advice
when occasion demanded it.
With this in mind, Garry sketched briefly the main points in the
matter that brought them back to Hobart and its vicinity.
“M-m-m, now, that requires considerable thought,” said the old
woodsman. “This matter of the mail robbery is somethin’ new to me.
Guess naturally the postoffice kept mighty quiet about that. ’Course
I know about the letters, saw one of them. That’s something I’d put
right at Lafe Green’s door, and where he is, there’s the halfbreed
to consider also. Lafe has always had it in for Everett, and
especially since the smugglin’ business; for everyone round here
knows that you chaps were in on it, and your bein’ friendly with Mr.
Everett has given rise to pretty good guesses that he helped you
out. That was to be expected, his having been in the Customs service
so long. But this other matter, I can’t say anything about till I
think it over.”
“We have had some idea that someone along the line in the
postoffices might have helped out. Otherwise this could not have
been done unless the mail carriers were held up at the point of a
gun and robbed,” said Garry. “What about Postmaster Denton?”
“Honest as the day is long,” promptly returned the gum hunter. “I’d
trust him with anythin’ I have, and there ain’t a soul in Hobart
that wouldn’t do the same thing.”
“That seems to let him out, then,” said Garry. “Now are we crazy and
stretching things when we figure that Green may have something to do
with this?”
“Yep, seems to be stretching it a little bit, but I wouldn’t put it
past him. Let me light up and think this out for a minute.”
So saying, George Washington Dudley—for that was the name of the
hunter—although he insisted that his friends call him “Dud,” hauled
out an old pipe and was soon puffing ruminatively away at it.
“If this thing was done with the help of any of the postoffice men,
it ought not to be a hard matter to trace it down,” suggested Garry.
“How about the man who delivers the mail with the flivver to
Coldenham when the pulp mill owner’s private road isn’t running?”
“He’s all right, cousin o’ mine; bank on his being honest,” returned
Dud.
He was silent a minute and then burst out:
“By ginger, it’s funny I didn’t think o’ that before. Find out one
thing, and you’ll have a good start. Find out if the robberies
happen to the mail that is delivered by my cousin or on the train
that runs between Hobart and Coldenham, and there’s your start.”
“Why, how will that help us?” inquired Garry.
“Why, dad blame it, the engineer o’ that train is a brother-in-law
of Lafe Green!”
This surprising piece of news threw all into a silence for a moment.
“You see how simple things are now?” queried Dud. “If you can find
out that letters are all right when they leave the Hobart
postoffice, and are all wrong when they get delivered to Coldenham,
then you have half the work done, and you can be pretty certain that
Lafe is back of it.”
“That’s step number one, then,” said Garry. “Let’s hustle back to
town and have a little chat with Denton. Which way are you bound,
Dud?”
“I’m off for about two or three days in the woods. Need some money
and so can’t afford to loaf; besides, these be great days for
wandering through the forest, and can’t afford to miss one of ’em.
We’re due for good weather for a week or two, then we’re due for a
spell o’ rainy days. All signs pint that way. So good luck to you.
I’ll look ye up when I get back, either here or in town. Ought to
catch you one place or t’other.”
Dud shouldered his pack, and loped off into the woods with a wave of
his hand at the chums, and soon disappeared from view.
The boys hastened to straighten out the camp after their dinner and
then prepared to go to town.
“What say we do same as we did last time—cache the foodstuff in one
of the trees near here; that will prevent any marauder from making
off with it, and leaving us hungry some night?” asked Dick.
“Good enough,” said Garry. “We can use the same tree, since it is
already marked so we can readily recognize it.”
This was done and the trio proceeded townwards. Arriving at the
postoffice they found Denton sitting on the wide porch that
stretched for the full length of the store, gossiping with several
old men of the village.
He hailed the boys as he saw them approach, and when they climbed up
onto the porch invited them to come inside.
He led the way back to his little cubbyhole office, and when they
were seated, asked what luck they had had.
Garry replied that little had been done and little could be until
they had asked him some questions.
“First thing,” said the leader of the Rangers, “has Simmons, the
inspector, been here yet?”
“Yes, drat him, only left a little while ago,” was the sour reply.
“Why, what’s the matter?” asked Garry in surprise, at the tone of
Denton’s voice.
“Seems to think I know all about this matter, and says he thinks
half the trouble is right here. Asked a lot of fool questions about
the letters sent to the Everetts and darn few about the stolen mail.
Seemed to be most interested in the contents of the safe. Made me
check over all the stamps and the cash of the postoffice, and wanted
to know how much money was generally kept there, and if it was cared
for safely, and all that sort of stuff. Seems kind of funny he’d be
worried more about a couple or three hundred dollars of postoffice
money than about Ferguson’s missing checks, which now total up
nearly three thousand dollars. I think he has an idea I’ve stolen
the dratted checks myself.”
The boys did not pay too serious attention to Denton’s tirade
against the inspector, for they thought that his brusque manner, a
little of which had been displayed to them, had riled the
postmaster.
Dick said so in as many words, and laughed a little at Denton’s
ruffled feelings. “What did he say about us?” asked Dick.
“Well, young feller, you think I’m put out at the way Simmons talked
to me, here’s a little for yourself. He told me not to have anything
to do with that parcel o’ dime novel reading boys that had come to
town to tell the postoffice how to run its business. So there’s one
for you!”
This time it was Dick’s turn to be ruffled, and in fact so were his
chums.
“It’s plain to be seen that there can be little cooperation between
us and the inspector,” said Garry after everyone had cooled down a
trifle. “I think we had better proceed in our own way, being ready
of course to do anything that Simmons asks us to do. Now, if you
feel that you can give us any private information, Mr. Denton, we’d
be glad to have it. We have one clue now that may be worth
following. Can you tell us when most of the letters that contain the
checks are delivered and how?”
“Surely can,” answered Denton. “They’re registered, and generally
come in on the noon train that goes across the border. That has most
of the mail from the big cities. Most of the mail that comes on the
local trains is only from Bangor and smaller towns along the way.
That means that it’s delivered on Ferguson’s one-horse train. We
call it the creeper around here, it’s so wheezy and slow. It comes
in mornings dragging a load of pulp which is generally left in the
storehouse that Ferguson has here until he gets a sizable amount,
then a freight train takes it from here to the paper mills down the
line. Late afternoon it makes a return trip.”
“I always aim to put the registered mail and most of the Ferguson
mail on that train, for the carrier doesn’t start until later than
the train.”
Garry looked significantly at his pals, and warned them with a look
to let him do all the talking.
“What makes you ask about that?” asked Denton.
“Why, we only have a hunch that it would be a good thing to check
the deliveries along the route and see if there is any way of
ascertaining where the letters might be opened,” answered Garry, who
decided that they had better keep their ideas to themselves for a
while, until they found there was basis for suspicion, or else found
they were on a wild goose chase. If the latter were the case, they
did not want everyone to laugh at them for their foolish hunch.
The answer seemed to satisfy Denton, and he said:
“As for giving you boys any help, you can count on me every minute.
I know what you chaps have done, and I kinder like you, and I don’t
like that man Simmons at all. In fact if he don’t show some signs of
life and do something after he’s been here for a reasonable time, I
am going to write the department and ask that another inspector be
sent that won’t bother about the stamps, which have a regular
inspection every so often, and will put his time in on the right
matter.”
There was nothing further that the boys could ask then, so they went
out into the store.
“Better buy something so that we will seem to have a purpose in
coming to the store other than our real one,” whispered Phil to
Garry.
Garry nodded his head, and for the benefit of those who were sitting
out on the porch and who he knew were probably inveterate gossipers,
they made a few minor purchases, leaving them to be called for on
their way back to the lean-to.
Then they went to Aunt Abbie’s to see their friends, and found that
Mr. Everett was out but that Ruth was at home. She greeted them with
sparkling eyes, and her whole manner indicated the she had some very
important secret or idea in her keeping. The boys could not help but
notice this, and pressed her to tell them what she was so excited
about.
The girl, however, steadfastly refused to divulge her thoughts, and
seeing that she had made them curious to a great degree, teased them
considerably about what she called “womanish curiosity.”
It was well along in the afternoon by now, and the boys, refusing
Aunt Abbie’s pressing invitation to stay for supper, withdrew to
make their way back to their camp. They wanted to talk over the new
angle in the case, which might mean a trip to Coldenham first,
rather than a search of Lafe Green’s house. That could probably come
later.
They arrived at camp just before dusk and set about the routine of
preparing the evening meal. As the boys worked, Dick remarked that
he did not think he had enough boughs for a bed, as he was heavier
than the others and would sink in them much more easily.
The chums laughed at this, and Dick retorted:
“Go on, just because you skinny fellows can sleep on two branches
and a stone is no reason I should be uncomfortable. Go on, start the
supper while I get some more boughs.”
“How about you helping out a little on the supper?” queried Phil.
“I’ll tell you what I’ll do. You get the supper and let me get some
more stuffing for under my blanket, and I’ll wash the dishes.”
This announcement was like a thunderbolt, for Dick hated dish
washing above anything else. He would cut wood or carry water or
cook without a murmur, but dish washing drew one constant grumble
from him.
“Gosh, Garry, let him get all the boughs he wants. When Dick offers
voluntarily to wash the dishes, it’s a day to celebrate. By the way,
Dick, you might bring a few extra ones for me while you’re at it.”
“Dick must be sick or something,” laughed Garry, as he watched the
fat boy depart.
In a short time Dick came struggling back under a load of boughs,
and as supper was not yet ready, decided to re-arrange his bunk
while waiting. He went into the lean-to and kicked away the boughs
he had already placed.
Then his chums were startled out of a year’s growth by hearing him
utter a piercing scream.