WHERE IS JACK?
“Isn’t it about time for the show to start?”
The boys had taken a long nap after dinner as they had determined to
stay awake all night in an effort to accomplish something toward
clearing up the mystery. Since dark they had been sitting in the
little cabin not speaking above a whisper and it was Jack who asked
the question.
“Five minutes to twelve,” Bob replied.
He had hardly whispered the words when a soft but distinct rap,
repeated four times, was heard.
“S-s—h,” Bob cautioned.
For a moment they waited and then the raps were repeated.
“Where is it?” Jack whispered.
“Sounds like it was on the head of my bed.”
“On the wall you mean.”
“Maybe, it’s hard to tell.”
Three more times the raps came and then a weird hollow groan
followed seemingly in the room. At the same time the mysterious spot
of light sprang into view directly over Jack’s bed.
“They’re giving us a little variation this time anyway,” Jack
whispered.
After remaining stationary for two or three minutes during which
time it seemed to increase in brightness, the spot began to slowly
move toward the ceiling. When near the top of the wall it moved to
the right about two feet and then began to descend and finally came
to rest in the place where it first appeared.
“Of all the fool—” Jack began but stopped as the raps started again.
“Come on,” Bob whispered. “It’s time we were off.”
They had been sitting side by side in the center of the room so that
there was a clear space between the window at the foot of Bob’s bed
and the wall opposite. Now they quickly got down on their hands and
knees and crept across the floor until they reached the end of the
room close by the head of the bed. They had removed the netting from
the window in that end of the cabin and in another moment they were
both crouching close to the ground outside. The night was intensely
dark as the moon had set early in the evening and a south wind had
covered the sky with thick clouds so that not a star was visible.
For a long moment they listened. The heavy boughs over head sighed
and moaned as they swayed in the breeze but no other sound reached
them.
“Keep close behind me and don’t make a sound,” Bob cautioned as he
got to his feet and started.
“It’s dark enough to cut,” Jack replied. “But you can’t lose me.”
Noiselessly they stole through the thick forest, their feet making
not the slightest sound on the ground, thickly carpeted with pine
needles. Every few steps they stopped to listen. Once a sharp crack
brought them to a sudden halt and they heard a large animal as it
bounded off between the trees.
“Only a deer,” Bob whispered.
“Sure, a ghost doesn’t make that kind of a noise,” Jack chuckled.
“But aren’t we round pretty near far enough?”
“We must be nearly in line with that window, I should say, but it’s
pretty hard to be sure in this pitch blackness.”
He turned slightly to the right and went ahead for about thirty feet
when he again stopped.
“Jack,” he whispered as the sound of his brother’s breathing did not
reach him.
There was no answer.
“Jack.”
This time he whispered as loudly as he dared, but again there was no
answer.
“That’s mighty strange,” he thought. “He was right behind me only a
moment ago.”
Carefully he retraced his steps whispering his brother’s name almost
continually. But Jack had disappeared as completely as if the ground
had opened and swallowed him. For fully fifteen minutes Bob searched
using his flash light regardless of consequences and calling his
name aloud. But no slightest trace of the missing boy could be
discovered. It was baffling and a hot wave of anger surged up within
him as he paused and mopped his forehead. What was he to do? That,
in some way, his brother had fallen into the hands of their enemies,
he felt sure, but how he could have been spirited away without a
sound when he was so near was a question he could not answer. It was
one of the few times in his life when he felt absolutely helpless.
It added to his sense of helplessness when he realized that he had
lost all idea of direction. Which way was the cabin? Versed as he
was in woodcraft and accustomed to finding his way through the
trackless forest with little save his sense of direction, now, in
the intense blackness which surrounded him, he realized that he was,
for the time being, as completely lost as could have been the merest
child. He had turned so many times in his search that he was
entirely ignorant as to the points of the compass.
Not that he had any fear regarding his own safety. He knew that he
had only to remain where he was until the first streak of dawn
showed in the east to be able to find his way back with ease. But,
meantime, what of Jack?
“Guess I might as well be hunting around as standing still,” he
thought as he threw the light from his flash about him.
And then he stopped and strained his ears as, from what seemed a
great distance, through the vast forest, came the sound of weird
mocking laughter.
For a long time he stood leaning against a spruce tree and trying to
figure out what it meant. How could it have been possible for anyone
to have captured Jack when he was so near without the slightest
indication of a struggle? He well knew that he was not one to submit
tamely to an attack made upon him, but the thought brought him no
relief, rather it added to his fear. To search further in the
darkness he felt would be useless and he sank down at the foot of
the tree to wait for morning. On his knees he fell and the prayer
which he offered, that God would keep his brother from harm, was
fervent indeed.
Somehow he felt better after the prayer and the thought that He who
notes the sparrow’s fall was watching over them comforted him. He
was not sleepy at first, but gradually the sound of the branches,
swaying softly overhead seemed to be singing a lull-a-bye to him
and, before he was aware of it he was asleep.
Suddenly he started up wide awake in an instant. Had he heard his
name called? He was not sure but he thought he had heard Jack’s
voice.
“Jack.”
There was no answer and, after he had repeated the call several
times, he decided that it had been a dream. He saw that the darkness
was less intense and knew that daybreak was close at hand. Slowly
the light grew as he leaned back against the tree, impatient for the
time to come when he could see clearly enough to pick up the trail
of whoever had been responsible for Jack’s disappearance.
As soon as he felt that there was light enough he set to work. He
knew that he had gone but a short distance from the place where he
had missed his brother, although he was not sure in what direction
the spot was. For an hour he searched, going around in ever widening
circles examining every foot of the ground. He knew that he had to
deal with a man or men who were versed in forest lore for none other
would have been able to sneak up on them in the darkness unheard and
he knew that such a one would leave but a slight trail at the best.
Another half hour passed before he found it. There was no sign of a
struggle but several foot prints, barely discernible in the soft
leafy mold, told the story to his trained eye. There had been two of
them he read, but how they had succeeded in preventing him from even
crying out was as big a mystery as ever. The trail led down the lake
in the direction of the dam. Now that the sun was creeping up he was
sure of the direction. The thought of first going back to the camp
for help never occurred to him. Jack was in danger and he must get
to him with the least possible delay.
The trail, once found, was not so difficult to follow as he had
feared. To be sure there were many stretches where the foot prints
failed to show in the pine needles, but the growth was thick and a
broken twig here and a slight abrasion on the trunk of a tree there,
led him rapidly on. Once he feared he had lost it but kept on in the
same general direction, and after nearly a mile had been left
behind, he picked it up again where the damp mold had preserved the
foot prints.
The trail sheered off to the left as he neared the dam and presently
he struck a fairly well defined path.
“I’ll bet they’ve taken him up to that cave on Katahdin,” he thought
as he hurried along no longer looking for signs.
It was a little past eight o’clock when he reached the foot of the
mountain and sat down for a short rest on a log. He had hurried so
since he struck the path that he was about winded and knew that he
would save time in the end by taking a rest before beginning the
climb. In a few minutes he was ready to go on and, to his joy, found
that the path continued up the mountain making it much less
difficult than they had found it on their previous trip. Still it
was rough and in places very steep and before he had gone far he was
puffing and nearly out of breath.
“Guess I’d better take it a bit more easy,” he thought as he stopped
again for a much needed rest. An hour later he figured that he must
be nearly there and stopped every few minutes to listen. It wouldn’t
do to be caught unawares, he told himself. Suddenly he heard the
sound of voices and, as they seemed to be coming nearer, he quickly
stepped out of the path and crouched in a thick clump of bushes.
Soon he saw two men, both well above the average in size, pass only
a few feet from where he was hiding. They were talking Canuck but,
although he was familiar enough with the language to follow an
ordinary conversation, they were talking so rapidly that he was only
able to catch a word or two, not enough to afford him a clue as to
the subject they were discussing.
“Reckon those are the fellows who nabbed us in the cave,” he thought
as they passed out of sight down the mountain. “And that probably
leaves only that slim guy,” he added grimly.
Waiting a few minutes longer to make sure that the two half-breeds
had really gone, he started off again feeling much rested and
greatly encouraged. Still he in no way relaxed his vigilance,
feeling certain that the man, who was doubtless the boss of the
party, was too sharp to be caught napping if he could help it.
“I don’t know whether or not he has any idea that I’m on his trail,
but it’s always best not to take unnecessary chances,” he
soliloquized as he crept slowly upward.
In about ten minutes after he had made his fresh start the shack
came into sight only a few yards ahead. The path, after turning
around a huge rock ran, not into the small clearing in front of the
building, but a little to the right. He might easily have missed it
altogether and gone on past had he been less careful to miss
nothing. In another minute he was lying at full length on the ground
behind a thick bush just on the edge of the clearing. From his
position he had a good view of the shack and was certain that there
was little danger of being seen by the man who he supposed was on
guard inside.
As he lay there, watching the door which was open about a foot, his
mind was busy with the problem of how he should go about the task
which he felt must not be long delayed. The two half-breeds might
return at any time and with the three of them there the releasing of
his brother would be well nigh impossible. On the other hand the man
on guard was doubtless armed with a revolver and probably would not
hesitate to use it and a false move on his part would prove
disastrous. It was a hard nut to crack and he was still turning the
matter over in his mind when the door was suddenly pushed farther
open and the slim man stepped outside.
He paused just outside the door and glanced about him. Once his eyes
stopped seemingly focused directly on the boy and his heart skipped
a beat as he thought he had spied him. But his glance soon turned
away and, after seeming to listen for a moment, the man turned and
re-entered the shack, closing the door behind him.
“I’d give a good bit to know whether or not he saw me,” Bob thought.
After watching a few minutes longer he decided to act. There was a
single small window in the front of the shack about three feet to
the right of the door and he crept around until he was facing the
corner away from it. About twenty feet separated him from the shack
and, darting across the intervening space, he crouched close to the
building. Had he been seen? If he had the odds, he well knew, would
be all with the other man. But, as the minutes passed and nothing
developed, he began to breath more freely. He noiselessly edged over
until he stood only a couple of feet from the door.
From time to time he could hear the man moving about inside and once
he heard him approach the door and even lay his hand on the latch
but he evidently changed his mind for some unknown reason and did
not open it. It seemed to Bob that never had time passed so slowly.
He was in a fever of fear lest the two men should return and find
him there. Then the fat would be in the fire for sure, he thought.
He had been standing there close to the door for nearly twenty
minutes when he again heard steps approaching the door and in
another minute it opened and the man stepped out. Bob was facing the
opening and did not hesitate an instant. With a lunge, which he had
learned through long practice on the foot-ball field, he threw
himself forward and tackled him just below the knees. The surprise
was complete and, with a startled cry, the man bowled over with Bob
on top of him. But, if he was taken by surprise, he was far from
being helpless. Squirming from beneath with the agility of the
trained wrestler he almost instantly had their positions reversed
and was striving for a strangle hold on Bob’s throat. But Bob foiled
the attempt and for a time they rolled over and over now one on top
and then the other.
Bob had been well trained in the science of wrestling but he quickly
realized that, although his antagonist was slight of build, he had
muscles of steel and furthermore was acquainted with the various
holds. One after another he tried them only to find himself baffled.
However one thing gave him hope. The man was breathing more and more
heavily and he knew that he could not be in first-class physical
condition. Feeling certain of this he began to conserve his strength
exerting himself only enough to prevent his antagonist from
obtaining a decisive hold.
Soon he could hear the man’s breath coming in gasps and he judged it
was time to again take the offensive. As if realizing the change in
the boy’s attitude and knowing that he was nearly winded, the man
managed to break a half-Nelson which Bob had secured and sprang to
his feet. Bob did the same and for an instant they stood facing each
other.
“I’ll teach you,” the man hissed as he sprang forward and aimed a
blow at Bob’s head.
But the boy ducked and the blow was wasted on the air. As if
maddened to the point of frenzy he rained a shower of blows on him
several of which took effect but, although they hurt, they lacked
force enough to do any real damage. Bob was watching for an opening
the while he was doing his best to protect himself. Suddenly, as if
realizing that he was accomplishing nothing, he stepped back and Bob
saw his hand reach for his hip pocket. He knew what that meant and,
like a flash of lightning, sprang forward. The man’s guard was down
and before he could pull his gun from his pocket, Bob had struck
with all the force of his one hundred and seventy pounds behind the
blow. Fairly on the point of the chin the blow landed and the man
toppled over without a sound and lay still. It was a complete
knockout.
“Hope I haven’t killed him,” Bob muttered as he felt in his pocket
and found a stout piece of cord. “But he’d have had me in another
second.”
A small maple tree was close by and pulling the man up against it he
soon had his wrists firmly bound together with the tree between them
and his back.
“Reckon that’ll hold him,” he muttered as he stepped around in front
of him.
Somewhat to his surprise he found that the man’s eyes were open.
“What’s the idea?” he asked in a feeble voice.
“Where’s my brother?” Bob demanded ignoring the question.
“Didn’t know you had one.”
“Well, where’s the boy you brought here last night or rather this
morning?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“I didn’t expect you’d tell me, but I reckon I can find him.”
“Help yourself.”
Bob started to enter the shack then turned back.
“Guess I’d better take your gun,” he said as he leaned over and
pulled the revolver from his pocket. “You got away once and you
might this time.”
The man said nothing but smiled in a way that made Bob shiver.
“He’s got something up his sleeve,” he thought as he again turned
toward the shack.
Inside the place looked much the same as it had before except that
three folding cots had been added and were arranged along one side
of the room. The door, leading into the cave, was closed and
fastened with the heavy bar. It was a moment’s work to remove the
bar and throw open the door.
“Jack,” he cried.
There was no answer and, throwing the light of his flash ahead of
him, he entered. It took but a short time to convince himself that
Jack was not there and an unaccustomed feeling of fear seized hold
of him. Several times he called his name but save for the echo the
stillness of the tomb pervaded the place. He had been so certain
that he would find his brother in the cave that the disappointment
almost overcame him and for a moment he leaned weakly against the
wall not knowing what step to take. Finally he shook himself
together and went outside.
The man was in the same position in which he had left him and
apparently had not moved.
“Well, did you find him?” he asked pleasantly.
“I guess you know well enough,” Bob snapped.
“Well, to tell the truth, of course I didn’t expect you would. I
told you he wasn’t there, you know.”
“I’m not so sure of it.”
“No?”
“No. There must be some way out of that cave or some other room to
it.”
“What makes you think that?”
“Because I’m not a fool.”
“No?”
The man’s grin was exasperating, but Bob steeled himself to keep his
temper.
“You got out of there the other day some other way and not through
the door and I reckon you couldn’t very well go through solid rock,”
he said.
“I congratulate you on your reasoning.”
“Never mind about the congratulations. I want you to tell me where
my brother is and I want you to do it quick.”
“But suppose you’re asking the impossible?”
“You mean you don’t know where he is?”
“Exactly.”
“I don’t believe it.”
“And I didn’t expect you would, but you can’t very well blame me for
that. I mean that you don’t believe me.”
“Will you tell me how you got out of the cave the other day?”
“Hardly.”
“Maybe I can find a way to make you.”
“Maybe, but I doubt it. I’m pretty stubborn at times, you know.”
Bob was bluffing for he had not the slightest notion how he could
compel the man to disclose the secret of the cave. It may be that
stories he had read telling how torture had been applied to force
secrets flashed through his mind but, in his heart he knew that he
could never do a thing like that unless he was sure that it was the
only way of saving a life.
“Suppose I take you down to Greenville and have you arrested?” he
suggested.
“On what grounds?” the man smiled.
“Kidnapping.”
“Go ahead. But remember my word will be as good as yours. What proof
have you?”
Bob well knew that the man was right. He had no proof beyond his own
word and that would not be enough. If he only knew how long it would
be before those other men would return he would soon decide what to
do. The fact that his captive did not show the least sign of anxiety
disquieted him not a little. It indicated that he knew he would be
set free before long. Still he was almost certain that his brother
was not far off and in the power of the rascals and he was
determined to find him if it was in any way possible.
“I’m going to make another search of that cave,” he finally said.
“And if those others come back while I’m gone, remember I’ve got a
gun and know how to use it.”
“I won’t forget it,” the man grinned. “Good luck to you.”
Before turning back to the shack he first examined his captive’s
hands and made sure that he had not loosened the cord.
“You’ve got them tied pretty tight,” the man remarked.
“I intended to,” Bob returned grimly. “But you won’t suffer any if
you don’t try to get away.”
“I tried that while you were gone before.”
Back again inside the dark cave he began a systematic examination of
its walls. That there was a secret passage way he felt sure. As he
had said a man doesn’t pass through solid rock and the man he had
tied outside had, in some way, made his escape, therefore there must
be a way.
Foot by foot he made the circuit of the room, throwing the rays of
his flash light on every inch of the wall. He had covered three
sides when a faint sound caught his ear. At first he feared that he
had been mistaken, but a moment later it was repeated a trifle
louder. It sounded as though some one was striking one rock against
another, but it seemed a great way off and he was unable to
determine the direction from which it came.
“Jack.” He shouted the name as loudly as he could.
Now the taps came at closer intervals and in a moment he realized
that there was a meaning to them.
“B-O-B.”
Slowly he spelled out the name in Morse and knew that it was Jack
who was signaling.
“Where are you, Jack?” he shouted.
“U-N-D-E-R Y-O-U-R R-I-G-H-T C-O-R-N-E-R T-R-A-P.”
“All right, I’m coming,” he cried as he hastened to the place
indicated.
The corner was littered with dead leaves, but as soon as he had
brushed some of them aside with his foot he saw that there was a
small trap door fitted with an iron ring. Eagerly he seized hold of
the ring and a black hole yawned at his feet. The light from his
flash showed that an old ladder led to the depths below, and in
another moment he was standing in a circular well about ten feet in
diameter. But, as he flashed his light about there was no sign of
Jack.
“Where are you, Jack?” he called.
There was no reply in words, but a loud tap sounded over to his
right and, flashing his light in that direction, he saw what his
eyes had missed at first. Close to the floor was a hole about two
feet high and the same distance across. It was but the work of a
minute to crawl through, a distance of only three or four feet, and
he found himself in another room about half the size of the upper
cave and, stretched on the floor, at the further side, was Jack.
“Jack,” he cried as he sprang forward.
A low gurgle greeted him and he saw that there was a gag in the
boy’s mouth and that he was tied hand and foot, with his hands
behind his back.
“I knew you’d come,” he said as soon as the gag was removed.
“Of course,” Bob replied as he cut the rope which bound his hands
and feet. “Are you all right?”
“Sure only a bit stiff.”
“Then let’s get out quick.”
“Why the rush?”
Quickly Bob explained the situation. “Those fellows may be back at
any minute,” he finished.
Bob crawled through the hole closely followed by Jack and had just
gotten to his feet when a shaft of light was shot through the
opening above.
“Get back, quick,” he ordered.
“Of all the luck,” Jack groaned as soon as they were back in the
larger chamber again.
“Either they’ve come back or that fellow’s got loose,” Bob said,
“and I don’t believe he got that cord off by himself.”
“And we’re caught like rats in a trap.”
“Unless there’s another way out. But we’re safe for the present.
They won’t dare come down that ladder. I’ve got that fellow’s gun
and he knows it.”
“But why, in the name of common sense, did they let us know that
they had come back? If they had waited till we got out they could
have caught us without much trouble, that is if the others are
really back.”
“I was thinking of that very thing myself.”
“Well, what about it?” Jack asked as Bob paused.
“I don’t know the answer, if that’s what you mean.”
“Well, I don’t know as the answer’s the important thing just now
after all. How are we going to get out, is the big question.”
“I’m afraid it’s too big,” Bob sighed as he threw the rays of his
light about the room. “Do you suppose there’s any back door to this
place?”
“It seems to me that there must be because when you lifted up that
trap, I thought I could feel a draft, but of course I might have
imagined it.”
“Well, here goes for a search. You stay here and if you hear
anything suspicious let me know.”
While he was speaking Bob was moving about the chamber examining the
walls but, after he had made a complete circuit, he had to confess
that he had found nothing which promised the faintest hope.
“I’m afraid that draft was an imaginary one,” he said as he came
back to Jack’s side. “I can find nothing which looks like an opening
of any sort.”
“Then I guess it’s up to us to wait till they make their next move,”
Jack sighed.
“But the air seems perfectly fresh in here,” Bob said as he sat down
on the ground.
“I hadn’t thought of it before but that’s right. There must be some
way for air to get in or it would begin to be stuffy.”
“Suppose you take a look. I may have missed something,” Bob proposed
handing the flash light to Jack.
For some time they did not speak while Jack moved about throwing the
light over every part of the walls and roof. He had already examined
the floor in hopes that there might be another trap door.
“Come over here a minute, Bob,” he finally called.
Then, as his brother joined him in the right corner farthest from
the hole through which they had crawled, he pointed upward with the
flash.
“What do you think of it?” he asked after a moment had passed.
“I think I see what you mean,” Bob replied. “That rocky ledge like
stone which juts out there doesn’t seem to meet the roof, is that
it?”
“That’s it all right and I believe there’s an opening up there, but
how are we going to get up to it? It’s all of twelve feet from the
floor.”
“And there isn’t a thing here to help so far as I can see.”
“Well, let’s sit down and think it over. Maybe something will bob
up. I didn’t see how I was going to signal to you when I first heard
you up there, and I guess I rolled over every square foot of the
floor before I got my hands on that piece of rock.”