TRYING TO FIGURE IT ALL OUT
"We'll have to look into this thing," said Paul, finally, seeing that his
three chums were waiting for an opinion from the one they looked up to as
their leader.
"But what I said was pretty close to the truth; wasn't it, Paul?"
Jack asked.
"Every word of it" came the ready response, for Paul was always willing
to give every fellow his meed of praise. "The only trouble is, it stops
right where you left off. None of us can say a word after that."
"How many men were there in the crowd?" asked Tom Betts.
"I could make out four," replied Jack; "you take another look, Paul, and
see if that's correct."
"I know it is," remarked the scout master, nodding, "because I counted
them before I called you. And they seemed to lift something heavy from
the boat, which they carried away into the bushes here."
"Whee! something heavy, eh?" burst out the impetuous Bobolink; "and they
carried it between them, two and two; was it, Paul?"
"Why, yes, two on each side; if you look close, you can see where they
stepped into each other's footprints," assented the patrol leader.
"That's so," agreed Bobolink, after bending down hastily; "just
like--er--you've seen the pall-bearers at a funeral!"
"Oh!" exclaimed Tom, turning a little white at the idea.
"Of course, that isn't saying it _was_ a funeral," remarked Bobolink,
hastily, as he noticed that Paul glanced at Jack, and the two shook their
heads a trifle, as though the idea failed to impress them favorably. "But
whatever it was, they seemed to find it heavy, the way their toes dug
into the sand here."
"Yes, it was heavy, all right," admitted Paul. "I think, from the way the
rear men stepped into the prints of the one up head, that whatever they
were carrying could not have been very lengthy; in fact, it must have
been short, but rather broad."
"Well, that's a smart idea of yours, Paul, and I c'n see how you hit on
it," Bobolink was quick to say, with a look of sincere admiration.
"But whatever do you reckon would bring four men up here to this lonely
island, carrying some heavy object in a rowboat?" Tom Betts went on.
"That's where we have to do our guessing," Paul replied. "We don't know;
and as they haven't been obliging enough to write it out, and fasten the
card to a tree, why, we've just got to put on our thinking caps, as my
mother would say."
"Well, we've had some experience in the past with hoboes; think they
could be a batch of Weary Willies, Paul?" remarked Tom Betts.
"I'm not ready to say off-hand that they're not," replied the other,
slowly; "but it hardly seems likely. In the first place, every one of
them seemed to be wearing sound shoes. Did you ever know four tramps
to do that?"
"Well, I should say not," replied Bobolink, scornfully. "It'd be a wonder
if one out of four had shoes that'd hold on without a lot of rope. You
clinched that idea the first thing, Paul."
"Then what'd you say they were?" demanded Tom.
Bobolink rubbed his chin reflectively.
"A heap of difference between plain tramps, and the kind they call yeggs;
isn't there, Paul?" he asked, presently.
"Everybody says so," came the answer. "Yegg-men are supposed to be the
toughest members of the tramp tribe. They're really burglars or
safe-blowers, who pretend to be hoboes so they can prowl around country
towns, looking up easy snaps about the banks and stores that ought to be
good picking. And so you think these four men might belong to that crowd,
do you, Bobolink?"
"It's barely possible, anyhow," the one addressed went on, doggedly. "And
I was just trying to remember if I'd heard of any robbery lately. There
was a store broke into over at Marshall two weeks ago, and the thieves
carried off a lot of stuff. But seems to me, the men got nabbed later on.
I'm a little hazy about it, though. But supposin' now, that these four
men had made a rich haul somewhere, and wanted to hide their stuff in a
good place, could they find a better one than up here on Cedar Island?"
The other three exchanged glances.
"I guess that's about right," admitted Tom.
"It's certainly quiet enough to suit anybody; and chances are they
wouldn't be disturbed in a coon's age," declared Jack. "Our coming here
was a freak. It mightn't happen again in many years."
"And this old island's already got a bad name; hasn't it?"
Bobolink went on.
"That would help keep people away," admitted Paul. "I've heard of men
coming up in this region winters, trapping the muskrats that swarm in the
marshes; but up to cranberry picking time it's almost deserted."
"Jack, you must have had an idea, too?" remarked Bobolink.
"Well, I did; but perhaps the rest of you'll only give me the laugh if I
mention it," replied Jack.
"All the same, it isn't fair to keep anything back," Tom declared. "My
guess didn't pan out much, and you couldn't have worse luck than that.
So tell us."
"Yes, go on, Jack, and give us the benefit of your think-box. I've known
you to get away up head more'n a few times, when it came to a live race.
And mebbe some of the rest of us mightn't think so badly of your idea as
you do yourself," and as he said this Bobolink sat down on the sand to
listen, all the while eyeing those mysterious tracks as though he half
expected them to give tongue, and tell the true story of their origin.
"Oh! well, that seems only fair, so here goes," Jack began. "Somehow I
happened to remember that once on a time I read about some counterfeiters
who had their nest in an old haunted mill, away up in the country."
"Whee!" Bobolink said, sitting bolt upright.
"None of the country people would ever go near the place, you see; and
when a light happened to be seen in it at night time, they talked about
the ghost walking, and all that," Jack continued.
"Huh! that must have been when the boss was paying off his hands,"
chuckled Bobolink. "I always heard that was the time the ghost walked."
"In this case the truth was only found out by some accident," Jack went
on to say, without paying any heed to the interruption. "I think a hunter
was overtaken by darkness, having lost himself in the woods. He was a
stranger, and had never heard about the haunted mill. So, seeing a light,
he went up to ask his way, or if he could get a chance of a bed that
night, I forget which. He saw enough to give him a suspicion; and when he
did get back to the tavern he was stopping at, he sent word to the
Government authorities. A raid resulted, and they caught four
counterfeiters hard at work."
"_Four,_ you said, Jack!" echoed Tom.
"Yes, just the same number there seems to be here; but then that's only a
coincidence, because those others are serving ten-year sentences in the
penitentiary. Now, you see, I guess the fact of Cedar Island being said
to have a real ghost got me into the idea of thinking about that story I
read in the paper. Of course it's a silly idea all around."
"Well, I don't know," said Paul, slowly.
"You don't mean to say you think it might happen that way here?" demanded
Jack, seeming to be the only one desirous of "shooting holes" in the
proposition he had himself advanced, as Bobolink expressed it later on.
"It's possible," Paul said, simply.
"Huh! for my part," spoke up Bobolink, "I think it's more than that,
even. If you asked me straight now, I'd be inclined to say it's
probable."
"Same here," remarked Tom Betts, eagerly.
Jack laughed as if pleased.
"I declare, I really expected to hear you knock my idea all to flinders,"
he remarked.
"But what under the sun could they be carrying in that big box?" asked
Tom Betts.
"Box!" muttered Bobolink, frowning, as though the word recalled to his
mind a matter that had been puzzling him greatly of late; but he did not
think to say anything further on that subject.
"Well, sometimes machinery comes that way," suggested Paul. "If these
strange men did turn out to be what Jack said, they might be getting
a press of some kind up here, to do their printing with. I never saw
an outfit, but seems to me they must have such a thing, to make the
bogus bills."
"That's right," added Tom. "I read all about it not long ago. Wallace
Carberry's so interested in everything about books and printing, that he
clips all sorts of articles. And this one described a kind of press that
had been taken in a raid on some bogus money-makers. Yep, it must have
been machinery they were lugging off here. Whew! just to think of us
bein' mixed up in such a business. I wonder, now, if the Government ever
pays a reward for information about such things."
"Oh! rats! that's the last thing a scout should bother his head about,"
said Bobolink, scornfully. "He ought to see his duty, and do it. Though,
of course, if a nice little present happens along afterwards, why, I
guess there's no law against a scout acceptin' it; eh, Paul?"
"Certainly not," replied the other, "you've got the idea down pretty
fine, Bobolink. But let's see if we can guess anything else. Then we'd
better go back to camp, and start the rest of the fellows thinking about
it. Perhaps Jud or Andy or Nuthin might dig up something that never
occurred to any of us."
But although they talked it over for some little time they did not seem
able to conjure up any new idea; everything advanced proved to hinge upon
one of the explanations already spoken of. And in the end they were
forced to admit that they had apparently exhausted the subject.
"Let's pick up our fish, and stroll back, fellows," proposed Paul,
finally.
"Lucky to have any fish, with that hog around," remarked Bobolink.
"Now you're meaning the wild man, I take it?" said Jack.
"No other; the fellow that drops in on you when you ain't expectin'
company, and just swipes your string of fish like he did Jud's. I might
'a thought Jud was giving us a yarn to explain why he didn't have
anything to show for his morning's work; but both Little Billie and Gusty
saw the same thing. Say, that's another link we got to straighten out.
What's a crazy man doing up here; and is he in the same bunch that made
these tracks?"
"That's something we don't know," admitted Paul.
"But we mean to find out," asserted Bobolink, with a determined snapping
of his jaws.
"Perhaps so--anyhow, we'll make a brave try for it," Paul declared.
"He wasn't one of these four, that's flat," said Tom Betts. "We all saw
what a big foot the wild man had; and besides, he goes without shoes."
"Glad to see you noticed all that," commented Paul, who always felt
pleased when any of the troop exhibited powers of observation, since it
proved that the lessons he was endeavoring to impress upon their minds
had taken root.
They turned their faces toward the camp, and Paul made sure to pick up
the fish he and Jack had caught.
"With what we'e already cleaned, they'll make a fine mess for the
crowd," he remarked, pointing out an unusually big fellow that had given
him all the fun he wanted, before consenting to be dragged ashore.
"I notice that you both kill your fish as you get 'em," remarked Tom.
"I wouldn't think of doing anything else," replied Jack. "It only takes a
smart rap with a club on the head to end their sufferings. I'd hate to
think of even a fish dying by inches, and flapping all over the boat or
the ground, as it gasps its life away. That's one of the things scouts
are taught--to be humane sportsmen, giving the game a chance, whether
fish, flesh or fowl, and not inflicting any unnecessary suffering."
"Wonder if anything's happened in camp since we came away; because
Bobolink and I have been gone nearly an hour," remarked Tom Betts, to
change the subject; for his conscience reproved him with regard to the
matter Jack was speaking about.
"What makes you think that?" asked Paul, suspiciously.
"Oh! nothing; only things seem to be on the jump with us right now; and a
fellow can't turn around without bumping into a wild man, or some bogus
money-makers, it seems. P'raps the ghost'll show up next. Listen! wasn't
that somebody trying to blow your bugle, Bobolink, that you left hung up
in the tent?"
"It sure was, for a fact. Let's start on a run, fellows. Mebbe they've
gone and grabbed that wild man! P'raps he was bent on carryin' off the
whole outfit this time. You never can tell what a crazy man'll do next;
that's the hard part of being a keeper in a queer house, where they keep
a lot of that kind; anyhow a man told me that once who'd been there. But
listen to that scout trying to sound the recall, would you? Whoop her up,
boys; there's _something_ happened, as sure as you live!"