DANGEROUS BUSINESS.
"Now fellows," whispered Garry, "duck around the side of the barn here,
while I tell you what I doped out as we walked along. Keep an eye out
for dogs."
They followed Garry's lead around the barn.
"Here's what I doped out. Only one of us can enter the house. To have
more do it might spell disaster to our plans, for in case of danger one
could find a hiding place where two could not. Two of us will go into
the barn, while one stays out here as guard. Once in the barn, the feed
box will be moved, and the one to enter the passage will do so, while
the other replaces the feed box, and rejoins the man on guard. It is now
twelve-thirty, and the man who enters the house ought to hear all that's
going on and be able to make a getaway in at least three hours and a
half, probably a lot sooner. That is allowing the men an hour or more
for talking, as they probably will take no longer, and two hours or two
hours and a half for everything to get quiet and allow the man in the
house to get away. Now to settle who goes into the house, we will follow
our custom of drawing lots. Phil is out, for he has already been in
danger once, and furthermore, he has had his share of adventure. That
leaves it up to either Dick or I to go in. Phil, get your knife out and
hold it in one of your hands. Then Dick and I will each choose a hand
and the one who guesses rightly will enter the passage."
Phil did as he was bade, and then Garry told Dick to take first choice
of hands.
"Right hand," said Dick, after a pause.
"Garry goes," whispered Phil. "I had my knife in my left hand."
Dick muttered a muffled exclamation of disappointment, for he had
counted on being the one to undertake the dangerous mission, but he
abided by the lot.
Leaving Phil on guard outside the door, Garry and Dick noiselessly
rolled back one of the folding doors just enough to allow them to slip
through.
The inside of the barn was as black as a pocket. Standing there for a
minute or two, the boys waited in silence. They could hear the uneasy
stamping of a horse, awakened probably by their entrance.
After what they judged to be a safe interval, Garry snapped on his
flashlight, and threw the beam of light playing about the floor,
keeping it on only long enough to get a general impression of the
interior, and being careful not to allow its rays to strike upward lest
it be seen through a window.
What they saw made it apparent that Mr. Everett's words about farming
playing a small part in Green's life proved true. There was a single
horse in the barn, and one good wagon. The farming implements appeared
to be suffering from long disuse.
Garry located at the end of the barn the feed box that marked the
passage entrance.
Hastening to it, they moved it forward, and there, as told them by
Ruth's grandfather, was the knot. Getting his knife out, Garry dug at
the knot which yielded to his efforts and came out.
The trap was lifted, and Garry, shaking hands with Dick, made ready to
enter. A musty odor emanated from the passage, making it evident that it
had not been used for a long time.
"Push the box back over the passage when I get in," he whispered to
Dick. "When I come to get out, I can tip it over when I push upward on
the trap. Now you hustle back out and rejoin Phil. Wait for me down the
road under that big elm tree that we passed on our way here. I noticed
that there was a field back of it, and in case you hear anyone coming
along, you can slip back into it and hide until he or they have passed
on. Now see you later," and snapping on his flashlight, went down the
crude ladder that gave entrance to the passageway.
He waited at the bottom of this ladder until he heard the crunching
sound of the feed box being pushed back over the trap door. Then the
light of the flashlamp ahead of him in a dancing beam, his heart beating
rapidly with excitement, he pushed on.
He was almost startled into an exclamation of dismay, as there came the
sound of a squeal, and a small form scurried across his feet. Then he
laughed with relief, for it was nothing more than a small rat.
After walking what he judged to be about twenty feet through the
passage, which was shored up and roofed with timbers much after the
manner of a mine tunnel, he approached a spot where the passage widened,
and he found he was in a sort of room.
At one side were a number of casks, but these were empty, as Garry found
when he stirred one of them with his feet. At the other side of the room
was a crude table, built of pine boards. On this table reposed a stack
of fine fur, roped into a bundle. Garry examined it and found the skins
to be those of fine seals, caught in Canadian waters, and destined to be
sent to New York and sold to some woman who would have no idea that the
law of the land had been broken by the making of the coat or neckpiece
that she would be wearing.
They had been there for some time, Garry judged, for the dust was thick
enough to denote that no one had been there for some days.
He pushed his way on through the passage, and came at last to the end.
There was a box to stand on so that one might get up high enough to get
a good purchase on the trap.
Now came a crucial moment. There was no telling whether or not the
cellar was occupied. All that Garry could do was to push upward and
trust to chance. Very carefully and slowly he pushed upward.
It required some exertion, but finally gave way. Pushing it three or
four inches, Garry paused, and both looked and listened. There was not a
sound, and no beam of light came to disclose the presence of anyone in
the cellar.
Giving the trap a last upward fling, Garry was soon in the cellar.
Pressing the snap of his light so that it would continue to shine, he
covered the trap with the dirt, smoothing it with his hands so that it
would show no signs of having been recently displaced.
The first step had been successfully negotiated. Now remained the
difficult task of getting upstairs and in a place where he could hear
what was being plotted by Green, LeBlanc and their friends.
Walking as near the edge of the steps as he could, for it is at this
point that they are less apt to creak, he made his way up the cellar
stairs.
Every step was now one of potential danger, for the throwing open of the
kitchen door would disclose his presence, and he would be trapped, for
there was no exit from the cellar except through the passageway, and he
knew that if he were discovered, some of the men would run to the barn
and guard that exit. His rifle had been left with the boys, for it would
only be a hindrance in his movements in getting into the house.
After a few moments he reached the top of the stairs, and with his ear
pressed to the door, listened for sounds that would tell him whether or
not the kitchen was occupied. He heard nothing, and then bent to where
the latch pierced the door. He could see no bit of light shining through
the small crevice, and then carefully raised the latch, taking nearly a
minute to do so, that it might give no sharp, warning click.
The latch once raised, he pushed the door open carefully, shoving it
barely a fraction of an inch at a time.
After what seemed almost ages, Garry stepped into the kitchen. He knew
it was dangerous to press the button on his flashlamp, but there was
nothing else to be done, for he could not go moving through the dark,
taking the chance of crashing into a chair or table, and thus
advertising his presence in the house.
Throwing the beam of light sweeping along the floor for an instant, and
concentrating with all his might, he impressed on his mind a mental
picture of the interior of the room, noting two doors and locating the
various pieces of furniture in the kitchen.
His next act was to untie hastily the strings of his shoepacks, and
slipping out the footgear, knotted the laces and strung the shoepacks
about his neck. He was now able to move noiselessly.
Standing silently, he listened. He could hear the murmur of voices
beyond one of the doors. His heart leaped, for there were probably the
plotters. He crept to the door, and listened, but could make out nothing
of what was being said. Only an indistinct murmur reached his ears.
It would be foolhardy to try and open the door, for he could not hope to
do it without letting those in the room know it, even with all the luck
in the world.
Garry was stumped. He began to wish that he had taken a chance and
approached the house from the outside, trusting to fortune to get to a
window through which he might both see and hear.
The boy stood for a moment and debated as to what was the best course to
pursue, whether to go back through the passage and try and approach
from the outside, or what.
Then he recollected the other door. Knowing that the construction of old
New England houses generally called for a front and back stairs, he
guessed that this other door would lead to the upper part of the house.
Noiselessly crossing the floor, he cautiously opened the door, and found
that his guess was right, for a single flash of his lamp showed a flight
of stairs.
His stockinged feet making no sound, he crept up the stairs. At the top
of the flight was another door, and opening this a bit at a time, he
entered the room. All was darkness and silence.
He swept his flashlamp around the room, and made a discovery that
promised the means of hearing what was going on in the room the plotters
were in.
In most small towns, and especially in farm houses, a furnace is an
unknown quantity. So to provide heat for the upper rooms without going
to the expense of getting extra stoves, holes about a foot in diameter
are cut through the ceiling, and an iron grating called a "register" is
installed. This allows the heat to mount to the upper rooms.
Garry mentally estimated the location of the room he was in, and decided
that it was over the kitchen. Hence the next room on that floor must be
the one over that in which the conference of the smugglers was taking
place.
Walking as though the floor were covered with eggs, he proceeded to the
other door of the room, and pursuing the same tactics of taking several
moments, cautiously opened the door. He found that he was in a bedroom.
He stood stock still, and listened.
The room was unoccupied, for there was no sound of breathing coming from
the direction of the bed. Deciding to get his bearings before going
further, he looked about. By this time his eyes had become accustomed to
the dark, and he did not make use of his lamp. A faint bit of light
proved to be coming through the window. Creeping across the floor, he
examined. It was open, for the night was warm.
Outside the window was a great maple tree. One branch was almost on a
level with the sill and not more than two feet distant.
This done, he searched for the light that would disclose the location of
the register, and his heart fell when he found nothing. It seemed as if
his carefully planned move had fallen like a house of cards.
Since there was evidently no register in the room, it seemed safe to
flash his lamp.
It must be explained that Garry's examination of the room occupied only
a matter of seconds.
Just as he was about to press the button of the flashlight, he heard the
purring voice of LeBlanc, muffled and indistinct.
With a thrill of excitement, he knew that there was a register in the
room after all. Getting down on his hands and knees, he felt about the
floor. Only the bare boards were his reward, until as he approached the
bed he felt a heavy rag rug.
Feeling over this, he discovered it to be slightly raised in the middle.
Carefully rolling it back, he was rewarded by seeing light and hearing
the hum of voices.
At last Garry was an unseen listener to the plot being hatched below!