The meeting was a joyous one. Alvin and Chester sprang to their feet and
grasped in turn the hand of their astonished friend, while Zip, never
forgetting his dignity, looked on as if he understood it all, as quite
likely he did.
“I didn’t leave Uncle Wilson’s until after dinner yesterday,” said
Burton, “and as Zip and I were in no hurry, it was growing dark when we
got here. Somehow or other, I fancied the looks of this old-fashioned
inn and decided to stay over night, but what is it brings you here?”
asked the young man as all three sat down to the table.
And then Alvin told his astounding story, to which Burton listened with
breathless interest.
“How dreadful!” he exclaimed; “it distresses me more than I can tell. It
was fortunate indeed that I decided to stop here, for I may not return
to Mouse Island for several days. I reckon we shall do some tall
traveling to Gosling Lake.”
They did not linger over their breakfast. Burton tossed a few mouthfuls
of meat to the dog, which sat on the floor beside his chair. As a rule,
when off on one of his tramps, the hound shared his room, though he did
not do so at the bungalow, which explained why Alvin and Chester saw
nothing of the animal when they arrived several hours before.
“It isn’t any use to theorize,” remarked Burton, as the three paid their
bill and hurried out of the inn, “for at such times you are more likely
to be wrong than right. Ruth may have fallen into the lake and been
drowned, without her body being found for several days; it may be that
those tramps belong to an organized gang and have stolen and hidden her,
but in that case,” added the young man with a flash of his eyes, “they
forgot to reckon with Zip; and if so, they will soon learn their
mistake.”
“The general belief when we left last night,” said Chester, “was that
she had simply wandered off in the woods until tired out, when she lay
down and fell asleep.”
“That sounds reasonable, but I can’t shake off the fear that it is not
the right explanation.”
It need not be said that while the three boys were hurrying over the
highway and along the rough path with the eager Zip, who knew that
something was in the air, keeping them company, the Boy Scouts and
Doctor Spellman and his wife were busy.
Their aimless groping through the wood was kept up until far beyond
midnight, when the physician compelled his wife to return with him to
the house and lie down for a brief rest. Scout Master Hall suggested to
the members of the troop to return to the bungalow, he accompanying
them, where they too secured sleep, and ate their morning meal at
daylight. The agreement was that all should assemble at an early hour at
the doctor’s home, where a decision would be made as to what was next to
be done.
If the child, as all prayed was the case, had simply gone astray in the
woods, she would awake at an early hour and renew her effort to find her
way home. With so many persons wandering here, there and everywhere she
must hear their calls and her rescue could not be long delayed. If such
proved not to be the case, and she had not been drowned, it would mean
the worst. She was the victim of the most atrocious miscreants who
lived,—for no crime is more merciless and unforgivable than the
kidnapping of the pet of a household, and giving its parents the choice
of paying an enormous ransom or never seeing it again.
Now, it may have struck you as strange that no reference has been made
to Uncle Elk in the consternation which followed the discovery that Ruth
Spellman had been lost or stolen. In knowledge of woodcraft none of the
searchers could be compared to him, and yet no one had asked his help.
The reason was simple. With all his skill in the ways of the forest, he
could do no more, so long as the night lasted, than the youngest member
of the Boy Scouts. He could join in the aimless groping and shouting,
but with a score already doing their utmost, he would simply be one
among them.
Although morning brought a change of conditions, it would seem that they
were still unsurmountable, for what Apache, or Sioux or Shawnee (unless
he were Deerfoot) could trail a little child through the forest, when
her almost imperceptible footprints had been repeatedly crossed by other
feet?
“I think we ought to appeal to Uncle Elk,” said Scout Master Hall to the
parents, after the scouts assembled at the Doctor’s home had scattered
to press their hunt harder than ever. “None of us can equal him.”
“You know that for some cause which I cannot fathom, he has formed an
intense dislike for my wife and me,” said the perplexed father.
“But it is impossible that it should include the little one. At such a
time as this no heart has room for enmity, no matter what fancy may have
dictated.”
“I am willing to be guided by your judgement,” replied the doctor, after
his wife had joined in the plea. “If Ruth has slept alone in the woods,
she must have awakened an hour or two ago and ought to have been found.
I don’t see how the old hermit can help us, but we must neglect nothing.
Come on.”
But Mike Murphy had anticipated their action. We know what unbounded
faith he held in Uncle Elk, and more than once he had felt inclined to
go to his cabin. With the coming of morning he decided to do so.
Consulting with Patrol Leader Chase, Mike found that he had formed the
same decision. Accordingly the two withdrew from the others without
attracting notice and made their way together to the cabin of their old
friend. This was so far removed from the zone of active search that none
of the other Scouts was met.
“If he can’t help us, no one can,” said Chase.
“There’s only one cratur that can thrack Sunbeam through the woods, and
his name is Zip,” replied Mike. “If I hadn’t seen with me own eyes what
he can do, I wouldn’t belave the same. Wal, here we are!”
They had reached the little clearing in the middle of which stood the
familiar cabin, as silent and devoid of all signs of life as ever.
Without hesitation, Mike led the way up the path, placed his foot on the
small steps, and was about to reach up to draw the latch, when he
recoiled with a gasp.
“Do ye obsarve that?” he asked in a startled whisper.
_The latchstring was inside!_
Never since the leathern thong was first shoved through the little
orifice above the tongue of iron had this occurred, by day or night.
The two boys stood for several minutes staring at the blank door, and
then looked in each other’s face. Not the slightest sound was heard from
within.
“What does it mean, Mike?” asked the Patrol Leader in a still lower
whisper.
“It maans ‘no admittince’; this is no place for us. I can’t guess what
raison Uncle Elk has for shutting ivery one out, but he’s done it, and
we must respect it.”
They turned away, hurrying in the direction of Doctor Spellman’s house,
and had almost reached it when they met the physician, his wife and
Scout Master Hall, to whom the two boys told the astounding news. In
other circumstances they would have theorized as to the cause of Uncle
Elk’s unaccountable action, but there was only one theme that filled
every mind.
“It shuts us off from any aid by _him_,” remarked the doctor; “we can
only keep up the search and wait for the coming of my nephew and his
dog,—but,” he added bitterly, “that may not be for days, when even he
can do nothing.”
A ringing shout caused all to turn their heads and look along the beach
toward the northern side of the lake. Three boys were coming toward them
on a run, and a few paces ahead of them, as if he were their leader,
galloped a black dog.
“God be thanked!” exclaimed the mother clasping her hands. “It’s George
and Zip!”
“Not forgitting Alvin and Chest, the two best boys that iver lived,
barring only mesilf.”
The next minute the parties were mingling, and greeting one another.
Alvin, Chester and young Burton were panting, for they had not let the
grass grow under their feet on the way from Bovil to Gosling Lake, but
they were still good for much more of the same kind of work.
“Zip is ready,” said his master, “and we are near the house. Let’s make
a start, for we are soon to learn the truth.”
The news of the arrival of Zip quickly spread by means of shouts and
calls to the scattered Boy Scouts, who began flocking to the quarters of
Doctor Spellman, until very nearly the whole troop were gathered there.
In answer to the request of Burton for some article of wearing apparel
recently worn by Ruth, the mother with a calmness that impressed every
one, brought forward a pair of chubby shoes, which the little one in an
effort to “break them in” had kept on her feet until late in the
afternoon, when they irked her so much she changed them for an old pair.
Burton held them out to Zip, who sniffed several times and then turned
his head away to signify that he had learned enough.
“Now, get to work!” commanded his master.
The scent was perhaps fourteen hours old when the Boy Scouts assembled
in front of the wooden structure, saw Zip begin trotting to and fro with
his nose to the ground. Suddenly he bayed slightly, and started down the
slope in the direction of the lake.
“He’s hit the trail!” said the excited Burton, dashing after him; “not
too fast, Zip.”
The youth never used a leash. The hound wore a handsome collar with his
name and the address of his master engraved on it. His voice was
sufficient to restrain Zip if he traveled too rapidly.
But the dog at his slowest traveled so fast that the boys had to trot to
keep pace with him. His master by common consent took the lead, with
Alvin, Chester, Mike and the others at his heels. Zip would have drawn
away from them all had not his master sharply restrained him. The doctor
was well to the rear, in order to keep company with his wife.
The hound went straight toward the water, but a few paces away turned to
the left, taking a course which if continued would lead him to the
bungalow. This was kept up for more than a hundred yards, when he
abruptly stopped and throwing up his head looked off over the lake,
without emitting any sound.
The mother with a moan staggered and would have fallen had she not been
caught in the arms of her husband.
“That means she is drowned!” faintly whispered the stricken wife. “O
Wilson! I cannot bear it!”
“No, my dear; he has gone forward again; be brave; hope is still left.”
Zip now led the company along the beach, at the same steady trot, with
his master almost near enough to grasp his collar, and checking him now
and then when he went too fast. There could be no doubt that he was
following the scent, from which nothing could divert him.
But whither was it leading?
The run was a long one, always within a few paces of the water, until a
point was reached opposite the path which led to the cabin of Uncle Elk.
Here, to the astonishment of every one, the dog turned off and went up
the slope.
“What can that mean?” was the question which each one asked himself.
And with more amazement than before, the procession of pursuers saw Zip
follow the path across the clearing to the door of the cabin, where he
stopped, threw up his nose and bayed. It was notice that he had reached
the end of the trail.
Ruth Spellman was inside the log structure.
In a twinkling the whole company was grouped around the front of the
building.
“Why don’t you go in?” demanded the Doctor, pressing impatiently
forward.
“You forget the latchstring is inside,” reminded Scout Master Hall.
“What difference does that make? Is this a time to hesitate? Let’s break
in the door! Make room for me and I’ll do it!”
Mike Murphy, Alvin Landon and Chester Haynes ran to the little window a
few paces beyond the door and peered through the panes.
“Sunbeam is there!” shouted Mike, “and nothing is the matter with her!”
Before he could explain further, there was a crash. The impact of Doctor
Spellman’s powerful shoulder carried the staple which held the latch
from its fastenings and the door swung inward. Through it swarmed the
Boy Scouts, the physician and his wife in the lead.
In front of the broad fireplace, where the embers had long died, sat
Uncle Elk in his rocking chair, silent, motionless and with head bowed.
Seated on his knees, with her curls half hiding her pretty face and
resting against his massive chest, was Ruth Spellman, sleeping as
sweetly as if on her cot at home.
With a glad cry, the mother rushed forward and flung her arms about the
child, sobbing with joy.
“O my darling! Thank heaven you are found!” and she smothered the
bewildered one with kisses and caresses.
Suddenly Doctor Spellman raised his hand and an instant hush fell upon
all. He had lifted the limp arm of the man and placed his finger on the
wrist. The professional eye saw that which escaped the others. He said
in a solemn voice:
“Uncle Elk is dead!”