A SIGNAL OF DISTRESS.
"A Canada lynx!" ejaculated Garry. "Why, I thought they were to be found
only in the wilds of Northern Canada."
"That's what a good many people think, but they can be found almost
anywhere in the northern tier of this country. A friend of mine a couple
of years ago shot one on the banks of Lake Champlain barely a mile
outside the city of Plattsburg. I don't ever recollect seeing one as
fine or as big as that one of yours. If you'd like, I'll stuff it and
mount it for you."
"That is more than I dared hope," said Garry. "I didn't know whether I
could find a taxidermist up here or not."
"You'll find that a good many old woodsmen are pretty skillful at it,
especially those who hire out as guides in the deer season," replied
Dud. "I mounted a fine deer head for a hunter from New York last year,
and he said it was a better job than was done by one of the high-priced
animal men in that city. But there's something else I want to tell you.
I can't say much, but there is a pernicious lot of activity lately among
a certain class of fellows who find a lot of business over the border
every now and then. Now mind ye, I ain't saying anything, but I've seen
and heard a couple of things since last night. Also, the 'lane' that is
used by these fellows isn't a million miles from here, and a nod is as
good as a wink to a blind mare. Remember I ain't said nothing at all."
Leaving the boys to ponder over his remarks, the gum hunter threw his
bag across his shoulder and departed on his quest of spruce gum.
"Now I wonder why he is so secretive about this business. Evidently he
knows all about it, so why shouldn't he come right out and tell what he
knows. It's a puzzle," said Garry reflectively.
"Don't you suppose he is that way because he lives here and knows all
these people and does not want to become involved in any way, fearing
that they might seek revenge on him for giving away their secrets?
Perhaps he even has some misguided relative or friend who is mixed up in
the mess some way," suggested Phil.
"I believe that is the only solution, Phil. At any rate, it behooves us
to be on the move and see what we can find out. He said something about
the smugglers' 'lane' being around here. I suppose that he means the
trail over which the stuff is brought. I suggest that the business of
the morning be to locate it if possible. Let's head toward the boundary
stone, and strike up along what is approximately the border from there
and see if we can discover anything in the way of a trail. First,
however, I suggest that we take all our food supplies and cache them
safely in a tree somewhere in this vicinity. Not so much for fear that
they will be stolen, but because I don't want the fact advertised of our
being here in case someone should come along in our absence. If we are
here, then all right, if we are not, these lean-tos look to be only
temporary, and no one would give them a second thought. I've also
thought it would be a good plan to search out one or two other likely
camp-sites and establish camps there. Then we can go from one to another
and not advertise our presence so blatantly. So on our march today, keep
an eye for a good spring. Now let's go and cache the stuff."
First Garry measured out a two-day ration of food, dividing it among the
three. The rest was then packed in a cloth flour bag that Garry had
procured at the general store, showing that he had had this idea in the
back of his head since they had arrived at the border. Some little
distance away, a thick pine tree was located and careful observation
was made so that the boys could find it easily.
Phil climbed the tree and then let down his lariat and Garry tied the
bag to the end. Phil then drew it up into the tree and placed it
securely in a crotch in one of the branches. This done, Phil clambered
back down, remarking when he reached the ground:
"If we get a good storm it's goodbye to the sugar and flour in that bag.
The stuff will just naturally melt away. If we are going to make a
practice of caching the stuff, I suggest that we provide a number of tin
cans with tight covers. Then it can rain on the articles for days and
never hurt them a bit."
"That's a prime idea, Phil, and next time we go to town, you are
delegated to provide said tins," said Garry.
"Ha, that's the time I talked myself into extra work," rejoined Phil
with a laugh.
"Believe me, young man, I'll take a lesson from that and make only
suggestions that won't entail extra work," chipped in Dick.
"On our way now, but first Dick, you run back to the camp and empty your
canteen on the fire, and obliterate all traces of it. Then fill your
canteen and rejoin us here, and we'll be off for the boundary monument,"
ordered Garry, thus proving himself to be a real woodsman and Ranger,
never forgetting that a stray spark or ember may smoulder for some
little time and perhaps start a fire that would sweep through the
forests as though they were so much tinder.
Dick sped away to do Garry's bidding, and in a few moments was back, and
the three chums started for the boundary line. This time they were able
to proceed directly to it, without wasting precious time hunting for it.
Arriving at the marker, they branched out fanshaped as was their wont
when they were in search of a trail or water. For some three or four
miles they found nothing in the way of a well-defined trail, or even the
remains of a camp, and were beginning to think the whole affair was
nothing more nor less than a wild goose chase, when they were called
together by a hail from Dick.
They ran speedily to him, and found him gazing at the ground.
"I don't know that what I've found amounts to a continental, but this is
an old abandoned tote road, and I've found the marks of three or four
different style boots, or rather, different sized boots. To my mind, it
is worth following up, as there hasn't been anything yet worth while
investigating except this. I wonder if our friend Dud isn't just giving
us a wrong steer, or is this what he meant we should find? What say,
Garry, what shall we do?"
Garry decided immediately.
"We'll follow this for a bit and see where it leads us. It may amount
to nothing at all, and then again it may lead us to a real clue."
They set off down the old tote road, and after a walk of nearly an hour
came upon several shacks, all boarded up, and bearing an air of
desolation and abandonment.
"By golly, this is a deserted lumber camp. You remember the storekeeper
told us there used to be logging operations in this vicinity? This must
have been the scene of the camp, although they had quite a haul to reach
the river for the drive. Let's take a look-see and find out what's
here," cried Phil.
They went to the main building, that is, the largest, evidently what had
been the bunkhouse for the lumberjacks, but every window was tightly
boarded up. A little to one side was a smaller building, which had
probably been the office and home of the camp boss and timber cruisers,
who generally lived by themselves.
This, too, had a deserted and forlorn appearance. Phil's keen eyes were
roving over the ground, but he found nothing to excite him till he came
to the rear of the building. Here was a small door.
"Say, fellows, look at that door. It's been repaired, and only lately.
You can see that someone has tried to obliterate the fact that new
boards were put in. It looks as though some tramp or woods wanderer had
broken in at some time, and the person or persons who have been here
lately have repaired it," said Phil, dropping to his knees and examining
the ground in front of the door.
"Why might not whoever has charge of this camp have fixed the door? It
is very likely that when the logging operations were given up that some
person in Hobart was put in charge to see that it was not destroyed,
because logging can again be carried on in this section," inquired Dick.
"Why, I dope it out this way. If, as you say, there is a caretaker or an
agent, it would be only natural for him to repair the broken door; but
why take all the trouble to smear it with dirt and dent it a little to
make it appear that it hadn't been touched? You can see that there are
different woods used in the door, and the repaired part is of much newer
timber. I tell you, there is some reason for this secrecy. By Jove,
let's try and get in."
As he spoke, Phil ran to one of the windows. This had been boarded up
from the outside, but one of the boards appeared to be loose.
"What say, Garry, shall I try and make an entrance?"
"I think under the circumstances it would be all right, since we are in
search of possible evidence," replied Garry, after a moment's
consideration.
Carefully inserting the edge of his axe under the loose board, Phil
worked the axe handle slowly, until at last he was rewarded by the board
giving way, gently withdrawing the nails with it. In a few moments more,
he had a second board removed, disclosing a window. It had an ordinary
lock, and opening his knife, Phil inserted the blade and soon snapped
the lock back. In a few seconds the three had clambered in, and were
taking stock of the interior.
Undeniably the place had been recently occupied. On the table were two
bottles with the remains of candles stuck in them, while in the
fireplace were the remains of a fire. A good woodsman can tell whether a
fire has been made recently or not, and the boys saw at once that this
was the case.
On the table was a pack of cards, thrown there evidently at the ending
of a game. There were four bunks at one side of the room, and these had
been cleaned out and fresh boughs were laid there, although there were
no blankets.
Garry discovered a closet, and on opening it, found that there was a
fair stock of provisions.
"Guess you are right, Phil. Someone is making a headquarters of the
shack. It seems logical to think that they are doing so secretly, for if
anyone with a right to use the place were living here, they would have
removed the boards from the windows, and would have made the place a
little bit more habitable. However, we had better dust out of here, for
we don't want to be surprised by anyone that happens to come along,
especially whoever is using this place. Perhaps it would be a good idea
to establish a watch and see who comes here. The chances are whoever
uses the place comes at night, or at least in the early evening, and one
might be able to get a look at them. At any rate, let's hike out,"
concluded Garry.
Looking around carefully to see that they left no evidence of their
surrepticious visit, they went out through the window.
"Sorry there's no way to lock that window hasp again, but since the
windows are evidently not used by the occupants, I don't believe it will
ever be noticed," remarked Phil, as he carefully nailed the boards back
in place with the back of the hatchet, being careful that his axe did
not slip and leave a mark to show that the boards had been pried off.
"When it comes time to watch for the occupants, I have an idea of the
proper place to keep an eye on them," said Dick, "and that is the
spring. Whoever is living here must have water, and if I'm not mistaken,
that's the spring over there."
Following Dick's lead, they went in the indicated direction, and sure
enough, there was the spring.
"You can see fairly fresh footprints there. I wish now that we had Sandy
with us," said Garry.
"Sandy" was Garry's big Airedale dog, which they had left with Nate
Webster when they went off to Augusta. They had not taken him on the
trip, for all those with whom they had had trouble, knew the dog, and he
would call too obviously attention to the presence of the trio of
Rangers.
"Let's take a look at the big bunkhouse and see if that is being used
also," suggested Phil.
They returned to the long low shack, and were in search of a window from
which the boards might be removed, when suddenly Garry said:
"Listen, do you hear the sound of rifle shots?"
Faintly borne on the breeze, came the sound of a distant shot.
"Probably only some youngster from town out after rabbits," said Dick.
They waited for a few minutes, and then again was heard a shot, closely
followed by two more.
"The forest distress signal. Some one's in trouble boys!" cried Garry
excitedly.