AN INDIAN TRICK
With the scream still ringing in their ears, Garry and Phil dashed
into the lean-to to discover Dick staring spellbound at the ground.
“Look,” he gasped.
The boys cast their eyes on the ground, and beheld a big
rattlesnake, stone dead.
“Did you kill it, Dick?” was Garry’s first question.
“No, it was laying there under the boughs that made my sleeping
place. Gosh, it scared me, I can tell you. I don’t know what made me
scream so. I guess it was just the thought that it might have been
alive, and that I would have laid down there tonight. I saw that it
was dead, of course, the minute I looked at it, but I couldn’t help
letting out that yelp. Ugh, it makes me creep now to think of it.
Wonder how it chose that place to die?”
“Must have crawled in and then gave up the ghost,” said Phil.
In the meantime Garry had been examining the reptile’s body.
“That snake was killed by a human being,” he announced. “See, its
head is crushed, and it has been hit several times with a club.
Don’t see how it could have crawled very far after being mashed up
that way.”
“What do you mean?” was the startled question of Dick.
“Looks suspiciously like an ill-timed practical joke to me,”
answered Garry. “Of course it is foolish to think we are the only
ones that ever come near here, and some passerby or camper might
have killed it and seeing that this place was occupied, hidden it
there to do just what it did—scare one of us half to death. Any
snake is bad enough, but a rattler, even a dead one, is enough to
shake anyone’s nerve for a minute.”
“Well, let’s throw the thing away and forget about it,” said Phil.
“I think I remember Dud say once that among his many occupations and
ways of making a living in the woods, was by skinning a snake
whenever he happened to kill one, and selling the skin. There are
some people who want such things for curios, but blessed if I would
want one,” said Dick. “Chuck it outside and next time we see him we
can tell him he can have it.”
“Wonder if Dud would have done that for a joke,” asked Phil.
“I doubt that,” said Garry. “Dudley is too sensible a person to play
a fool trick like that, knowing how it would startle anyone. No,
whoever did that was half foolish. Gosh, there’s the coffee boiling
over,” and Garry dashed to the campfire. They forbore talking about
the snake during supper, and were about to forget it, when Garry
looked at his chums with a gleam of understanding.
“Listen, you two. I may be wrong, but am more likely right. I just
happened to remember something that gives me the creeps. If I’m
right, it is the most dastardly attempt to kill a person that I ever
heard of.”
“Gosh, don’t give a lecture; tell us what you mean,” broke in Dick.
“It’s just this. That dead rattler was put there with a distinct
purpose by some one who wants us out of the way!”
“You don’t think anyone is foolish enough to believe that a dead
reptile would drive us away do you? Of course we would be startled,
but it wouldn’t make us run out of the country,” scoffed Phil.
“No, you don’t get the point at all,” said Garry, his face paling at
the thought. “Haven’t you ever heard that the mate of a dead snake
will always find the body and wait there, sometimes for days? It
must be some instinct that makes it think the killer of its mate
will come that way, and enable him to get revenge.”
The truth of this sank in with such appalling suddenness that the
boys were speechless for a moment.
When at last Dick found his voice, he said in a trembling tone that
he tried to conceal but could not:
“Why, that means that I might have been bitten as I slept tonight;
and not only that, but all three of us might have met the same fate.
Who do you suppose was at the bottom of that attempt on our lives?”
“Well,” remarked Garry grimly, “I can think of only one person who
would have been fiendish enough to do that, let alone think of it.
It’s an old Indian trick to get rid of an enemy without leaving a
trace. Boys, just as sure as we’re sitting here, Jean LeBlanc is
back on our trail, and that snake was put there by none other than
our halfbreed enemy!”
“That means step carefully every minute then, doesn’t it?” asked
Phil.
“You bet it does,” responded Garry. “From now on we go back to our
old system of night watches. Two hours and a half of duty for each
of us every night while we are in the woods, and eyes in the back of
our heads all the time.”
“Do you suppose Lafe Green could have done that?” queried Phil. “You
know he gave a pretty significant warning to you last night, Garry.”
“No, I don’t believe he would have thought of that, and besides he
was around town all day, as you will remember Denton told us when we
asked him. It means that LeBlanc has come back and they have joined
forces.”
The chums carefully searched every nook and corner of the lean-to,
and shook out the boughs that made their bunks, for they did not
know what other infernal contrivance their enemies might have laying
in wait for them.
It was also agreed to keep the campfire going all through the night,
the boy being on sentry duty being detailed to keep it supplied with
fuel. To this end, all hands turned out for a few minutes and
gathered firewood. A sharp watch was kept for the mate of the
rattler, and before turning in, it was carried several feet away
from the camp, and thrown at the foot of a tree.
“You know I have an idea that whoever did that, or rather say
LeBlanc, since we are morally certain it was his work, will come
back here tomorrow to see if his ruse worked. If he finds us gone,
he will be likely to look under the boughs to see if the reptile is
still there. Now we are not certain that it is LeBlanc or Green, it
may be someone else. In that case we would want to know what he
looked like. So here is my idea. Just before we leave in the
morning, I am going to rig up a camera trap,” said Dick.
“A what?” asked Phil.
“Camera trap; haven’t you ever heard of one? They’re often used in
the woods by people who want to get good pictures of wild animal
life. You just fix a place for the camera and focus it on a spot,
then set a trap that will pull down the lever when it is stepped on
or moved. Simple as A B C. I’ve never done it before, but I know how
to construct one. We’ll do it first thing in the morning.”
By this time it had become quite dark, and the boys turned in,
except for Phil, who drew the first tour of sentry duty. Warning him
to keep his eyes and ears open every minute, Garry and Dick rolled
into their blankets.
Phil was as restless as a cat on a hot plate. Every snapping twig or
soughing of the breeze through the trees made him jump. He made
constant patrols around the lean-to, snapping on his pocket electric
light as soon as he got out of the range of the light afforded by
the campfire.
Nothing, however, developed during his watch, and it was with a bit
of relief that the end of the two and a half hour period came. He
awakened Garry, who was to take the second watch, and soon was
curled up in his blanket and fast asleep.
Garry felt much the same as Phil had, although he took things
easier, for he was not of the sensitively nervous type as was Phil.
Nevertheless, he too was glad to call Dick. It was not that the boys
were in any way cowards, for they were not. Had it been a human
being whom they expected, they would have thought nothing of it;
rather they would have considered it a welcome bit of excitement.
But this was an entirely different matter—a creeping enemy that
would come on them unawares, and which was more dangerous than human
being or animal could have been.
Dick yawned and grumbled when Garry shook him, then he rubbed the
sleep out of his eyes, and looked to see that his rifle was in good
working order.
“Anything stirring?” he asked, as Garry handed over the electric
torchlight to him.
“Nothing breezing yet; keep your eyes peeled,” whispered Garry.
Dick took a round of the lean-to, then running true to form,
rummaged around till he found a package of cookies he had bought the
previous day, and munched away at them as he watched. He kept his
eyes glued to the spot where the dead reptile had been thrown,
flashing his light there at momentary intervals.
Then another thought struck him. He now wondered whether the snake
would go directly to the body, or whether it would come first to
where its mate had originally been. This made Dick jump to his feet,
for he had been sitting with his back to the lean-to where his chums
were asleep, where he could watch everything for several feet around
in the gleam of the campfire. He patrolled the camp, and then came
and threw fresh wood on the fire. As the dry branches caught and
burst into a bright flame, he cast one look at the spot where the
dead snake had been put, then let out a yell, and throwing his rifle
to his shoulder, fired after a hasty but accurate aim. He emptied
the magazine before he stopped firing.
The shots brought his companions tumbling out with their rifles.
“What is it Dick?” shouted Garry.
“Gosh, it’s a wonder I had presence of mind enough to shoot,”
shivered Dick. “I looked at the place once and saw nothing, then
made a patrol of the camp and threw on some more wood. It couldn’t
have been quite five minutes when I looked at the spot once more,
and there, coiled up was a real live snake. Let’s go over and see if
it’s dead.”
“Careful now; throw on some more wood and get your flashlights out,”
ordered Garry. “Dick, you take the three of them, they’ll give a
fine light. Phil, you and I will take our rifles, and we’ll edge
over there very slowly. Be ready to shoot on the instant.”
“Wait a minute,” said Phil. “Bullets won’t always kill a snake. Get
a pole and be ready to break its spinal cord with a good blow. One
can keep his rifle ready. A rattler can’t strike without coiling,
and if it is alive it’s probably threshing around from the bullets.
Here, grab this heavy sapling that forms a support for this side of
the lean-to.”
It was only an instant to tear away the pole, and then with Dick
holding the flashlights they advanced cautiously. When they reached
the spot they heard no warning rattle. The rattle snake never
strikes without first whirring the button-like appendages on the
tail. They looked and saw that Dick’s aim had been deadly. Dick’s
magazine rifle contained fifteen bullets, and he had emptied the
whole of them at the snake. One had taken deadly effect, smashing
the reptile’s head, and one or more had severed the spinal column.
“Ugh, that’s over with, unless they bring some of their cousins and
aunts,” said Dick with a little shudder.
Dick’s remark brought a relief to the tension, and the others
laughed heartily.
“No, it’s all over now,” said Garry. “We’ll heave these things far
into the woods and forget about it. Mark where we put them and Dud
can have the skins. Now let’s get back to bed. Just to be safe,
however, Dick you finish the night watch.”
Quiet then reigned in the camp, and Dick waited contentedly until
dawn, when he started the coffee and then awakened his companions.
Immediately after breakfast, Dick set about making his camera trap.
“First thing we must do,” he announced, “is to make this lean-to so
that there is only one entrance. That’s because I can focus the
camera to cover only so much ground. Best way to do is to lay two or
three more saplings crosswise between the two brush shacks, and
weave some branches on them.”
All three set to work and made the lean-to inaccessible on one side.
This was done by laying four saplings across the opening and
fastening them to the uprights that held the lean-tos. On these were
hung quantities of branches, which were then twisted in and out of
each other much as one would weave a basket. This is the usual way
to make a brush house in the woods, and so constructed, they are
easy to make and all right for good weather. Of course a heavy rain
will soon penetrate, and so they are not generally used for
permanent camps. Still, when they are properly prepared, and thickly
woven, these houses will keep out an ordinary summer shower.
“There, how’s that for a job?” asked Garry.
“Pretty good, except for one thing. We’ll need some more branches so
as to make that wall extra thick, because it is in that that I am
going to mask the camera,” answered Dick, who was superintending the
job since it was his idea.
This was soon done, and then they stepped back and surveyed their
handiwork.
“Now what’s the next step?” queried Phil.
“Next thing to do is to dig a shallow trench two feet square and six
to eight inches deep. Only way I see to do that without a shovel is
to use our hatchets as pickaxes, and then scrape away the dirt with
our hands.”
“What’s the idea of the trench?” asked Garry.
“You ought to be able to see that without asking questions. That’s
what I’ll use to lay some sort of a platform on that will cause the
lever of the camera to snap. Thing that stumps me just now is how to
make that platform. Before we cross that bridge, however, let’s get
that trench fixed. On second thought, it need be only about three
inches deep. I am beginning to see light.”
The work of making the trench was simple, and when it had been
completed, Dick ordered them to get about a dozen thin saplings.
“Strikes me the fat boy is pretty good at bossing, isn’t he, Garry?”
said Phil with a laugh.
“Go on now, get those saplings. You see before you a mighty inventor
who cannot be bothered with menial tasks,” said Dick in a lofty
tone.
“Don’t know whether to trip him up and sit on him, or just ignore
him,” said Garry to Phil.
Still chaffing good naturedly, the two set out for the saplings,
while Dick busied himself with setting his camera in the brush,
masking it so that only the lens appeared. Having done this, he
stepped away a few feet and looked to see if it was observable. He
decided that no one could see it without looking for it especially.
Garry and Phil came back and stood for a moment, looking straight at
the brush screen that had been erected.
“Why didn’t you improve the shining moments and put your camera in
place?” asked Garry as he saw the closed case lying on the ground.
“Fine!” exclaimed Dick delightedly. “It’s there already, and if you
boys who know about it couldn’t see it, then certainly no one else
will. Now for the trap.”
The making of the trap was a delicate process. First he took two
sticks and laid them crossways at each end of the trench. Then he
anchored these securely at each end, putting dirt on them and
stamping it down with his heavy shoe packs so that it would not stir
in the slightest degree.
Next he delved into his knapsack and brought out some strong but
thin linen cord they had bought some time previously and which had
served them well at various times, since it was light enough to do
fairly delicate work with, yet strong enough to bear some strain. He
ran a length of this from the lever on the camera to a sapling which
was laid across the two supports that he had built. With this as a
guide, he attached a dozen threads a foot or two from where the
nearest sapling began.
The next thing was to run the main string down and under one of the
sapling supports on the brush screen where the camera was concealed.
He smoothed away the bark from the wood so that the string would
slip easily, and then ran it back up to the ridge of the lean-to.
From there it was brought across and down to the ground, where the
trap was to be laid.
“You see the idea, now, don’t you?” Dick asked.
“Well, we have vague glimmerings, and that is all,” answered Garry,
speaking for himself and Phil.
“The thing is simple enough. This cord has been brought around so
that it is attached to the lever and to this trap. When someone
steps on the trap, it will sink just enough to pull on the cord, and
that will bring down the lever, and presto, your picture is taken.”
“Well, I see that,” said Garry, “but what’s to prevent its taking
another picture when someone steps on it again?”
“Easy again. Once the camera has been snapped by the trap, its work
is done. You see the lever on this camera takes one picture when you
pull down, then to get another, you push the lever back up. Of
course there is nothing in this crude trap that will push up, so you
can take only one picture without resetting the trap,” explained
Dick.
“That’s well explained; now tell me something else and I will keep
quiet for a while,” said Garry. “Why have you tied some extra
threads to your main line that leads to the lever?”
“That’s an extra precaution. If I had a wide board that I could set
in the ground, a weight on any portion of it would cause the entire
board to sink a bit, and that would give the necessary pull to
release the lever. But we have no board and so I must lay these
strips of sapling close together. Suppose that the intruder steps on
one spot, he would only cover about nine or ten of these saplings,
and if my string was not hitched to those particular saplings, the
trap wouldn’t work. The idea of the extra strings is so that on
whatever portion of saplings anyone stands, he will be sure to pull
down on a string. Savvy?”
“Right, as usual, I stand corrected,” murmured Garry in a purposely
humble tone.
Dick looked at him sharply.
“Are you trying to rag me a bit?” he asked.
“No, not trying to,” answered Garry with special emphasis on the
word “trying.”
Dick was about to make a retort, then kept silent, for he knew that
Garry was having a bit of fun with him, and in a battle of words
with the sharp-witted leader, he knew from experience that he would
come off second best.
All that remained now to do was to set the saplings. Dick filled in
the trench so that the saplings would clear the ground by just about
half an inch, all that was necessary to bring down the little lever.
One by one the saplings were laid and the threads attached, Dick
drawing the string taut while Garry held the lever up so that it
would not be accidentally pulled down. Finally the saplings were all
laid.
“Now we must cover the saplings with some dirt very carefully and
smooth it down hard,” said Dick. The dirt was sprinkled on and then
bidding Garry guard the lever, Dick patted it down hard on the
improvised platform.
“That’s good so far,” said Phil. “But won’t the person who steps on
that feel the give of it, and become suspicious?”
“That’s one chance we will have to take, but I intend to sprinkle a
few pine needles on top of this and try to give it the appearance of
soft ground. You know how often one steps on a springing, spongy
surface in the woods.” As he talked he threw handfuls of pine
needles on the spot.
“There, guess that’s camouflage for you. I don t think anyone would
ever know it had been fooled with,” said Dick, with some pride in
his handiwork. And indeed he had good cause to be pleased, for the
ground looked not a whit different than the surroundings.
“There is just one thing more. That is the liability of the intruder
sneaking around the corner of the lean-to and dodging the trap
altogether,” said Dick, “and we can soon fix that with a few
saplings. We will make a sort of little fence with an opening only
wide enough for an entrance. That will serve a double purpose. It
will make the intruder step on the trap, and it will offset the
appearance of the brush wall at the back by making it appear that we
have simply fixed up our lean-to in fancy fashion.” As he spoke,
Dick began to make the “fence,” and the others, catching onto the
idea, lent a willing hand.
When it was completed, the shack had a comfortable air about it that
led the boys to decide that when the trap had served its purpose,
the other trappings would be left as they were.
“Now let’s pull out for town and see Denton and look up Simmons,
just to see what he has to say for himself,” suggested Dick.
The chums slung their packs over their shoulders, for they seldom
went anywhere without them, not knowing at what moment they might be
called on to make a hurried move.
The work of making the trap had required about two hours, and the
walk to town generally took them an hour. This morning it was a
trifle longer, for the day was fine, and there was no especial need
of haste, hence they sauntered along at an easy pace, while
chattering about half a dozen different topics.
They reached town about ten in the morning and proceeded to the
general store. Denton was sitting on the front porch, his usual
place when the duties of the store did not demand his attention.
He saw the boys approaching and waved to them as they walked up the
street.
“Well, what news this morning?” asked Garry.
“Nothing much more than usual. Simmons was in this morning and
looked around and asked when the next batch of registered letters
was expected, and then said he was going to drive to Coldenham, and
off he went.”
“Why should he ask you when registered letters would come?” asked
Garry, who was rather puzzled at what seemed the peculiarity of the
question.
“How are you supposed to know anything about when certain letters
will arrive?”
“Lately, Ferguson’s office has been calling me on the telephone to
let me know when money was expected, in the hope that I could
exercise special care for the safety of the letters. Of course I
told Simmons about it, so it was natural that he should ask me about
this.”
“Are any letters due today or tomorrow?” asked Garry.
“Yes, I got notice early this morning that some were expected from
Portland in payment of the last loads of pulp sent down the line.”
There was nothing else in the way of news, and so the boys, after
chatting about other matters for a few moments, took up their way
towards Aunt Abbie’s house. On their way they passed the French
restaurant where Dick had once been imprisoned by LeBlanc and Green,
and were not greatly surprised to see Lafe Green standing in the
doorway. He gave the boys a malevolent look as they neared him, and
when they passed by whispered sibilantly:
“This is your last warning; get out of here and get out quick!”
Garry stopped in his tracks.
“Listen, Green. Let me give you a little warning. You can’t drive us
out of town with threats, and all your little schemes and those of
LeBlanc won’t do you a bit of good. And there won’t be any
kidnapping either, for we are making no move without letting someone
know where we are going and why. The moment that anyone of us
disappears for more than six hours, you and all your friends will be
tracked down and arrested.
“I am writing a complete account of this business for the sheriff,
and for the state authorities at Augusta, so that any move you make
will bring you speedily before someone that you cannot get away
from. Now, is that clear to you?”
Green laughed loudly, but there was a false ring in his mirth. The
idea of the boys having a constant check kept on their movements was
not evidently to his liking, neither was the fact that the state
authorities would take up the matter. He knew, of course, that the
boys were in the Ranger Service—LeBlanc had told him that—and knew
that the Rangers would leave no stone unturned to run down anyone
that would harm a member of that service.
“You make big talk, young fellow, but I’m telling you that this
country is dangerous for you; not from me, understand, but from some
people that I don’t control. Better save your skins and get back to
the city and not concern yourselves with things that you shouldn’t.”
Green turned on his heel and walked into the restaurant, and the
boys resumed their way.
“What’s all this about a letter, Garry?” asked Dick. “That is the
first I’ve heard of it.”
“Same here,” said Garry. “It just struck me at the moment, however,
that it would be a wise thing to do, and so I threw it at Lafe in
the hopes that it might check his future actions slightly. I believe
the shot went home at that.”
Arrived at Aunt Abbie’s, they found her all wrought up.
Her first words exploded like a bombshell.
“Ruth went out last night and hasn’t been home since!”