So tired were all members of the party after their unexpected exertions
of moving camp and trekking on, coming at the end of a day filled with
fatiguing labor, that now a haven had been reached and they had relaxed
from their tension, they were ready to go to sleep at once. First,
however, preparations had to be made not only to keep guard but to keep
watch also for Dick and Art. Although the latter did not know
definitely, of course, where they were encamped, yet it would not be
difficult for them to follow the trail at least to the shore of the
lake.
"Look here," said MacDonald, returning to join the conference, "I'm not
near as tired as the rest of you. I'll keep watch for your friends for a
couple of hours while the rest of you get some sleep."
"All right," said Farnum, gratefully, "that is, if you promise to wake
me at the end of two hours. I can use a little sleep right now."
"Turn in, then," said MacDonald. "These spruces give you enough shade.
And, anyway, I guess you don't need much inducement to go to sleep."
"I could sleep right out in the open sun with my face turned up to the
sky," said big Bob, yawning. "Well, nighty night, folks."
Nothing occurred during MacDonald's watch, and at the end of the
two-hour period he awakened Farnum, in keeping with the agreement.
"Thought some of letting you sleep on," he said. "But, to tell you the
truth, I been travelin' hard myself, and need a little sleep, too."
"Right," said Farnum. "I'd have been peeved if you hadn't waked me."
Several hours later, Farnum keeping lonely vigil among the bushes by the
lake shore, descried a canoe shoot out of the mouth of the stream down
which they, too, had come and swing into the lake. At first, as only the
bow of the canoe appeared, he was startled, believing Lupo's Indians
already were on the trail. But a moment later, with relief and yet
surprise to see them there, he made out the two figures in the boat as
those of Dick and Art.
The pair rested on their paddles a moment, scanning the shore and also,
Farnum noted, apparently casting anxious glances behind them. He was too
far away, however, to see whether that were really the case. Farnum
realized that, with the skin kayak belonging to MacDonald now drawn
safely out of sight among the bushes, beside their own canoes, Dick and
Art would not have the same indications pointing to the island that had
he on arrival. Therefore, he stepped from the bushes and was just about
to set his cupped hand to his mouth and call when the unexpected
occurred.
Dick and Art already had dipped their paddles into the water again and
were making a wide swing with the evident intention of bringing the
canoe parallel to the shore but some distance out, when Farnum's
startled eyes beheld another canoe arrive at the mouth of the stream
behind them.
Action was as quick as thought. Dick and Art evidently had managed to
obtain one of Lupo's canoes and were being closely pursued. How closely,
moreover, apparently they did not know. He must warn them, not only of
his presence and of help close at hand, but also of the danger behind
them. The course they were taking would bear them away from the island
and, unless changed at once, would make it possible for Lupo to cut them
off from their friends.
Although he had left his rifle at camp, as he stumbled out with sleep
filling his eyes and dulling his brain, Farnum had his automatic
swinging in the holster at his belt. Whipping it out, he shot three
times in rapid succession.
At the sound, Dick and Art stared towards the island where Farnum,
stepping into the open, was vigorously waving his hat to attract their
attention. Lupo's men also set up a shout, as they churned the water
racing to cut off their quarry.
"What is it?" cried Frank, first of the aroused camp to gain Farnum's
side.
Then his glance took in the situation.
"Look here, those fellows might pick off Art and Dick before they can
gain safety, even if they don't succeed in cutting them off," he said.
"Let's get our rifles, fellows, and open fire. A long shot, but they're
coming closer."
"Anyway, it will make them draw in their horns," said Farnum. "Tell you
what, you boys run and get the rifles, and Mr. Hampton and I will launch
one of our canoes. We'll go out to help Dick and Art, if those fellows
keep closing in on them."
The three boys sped away, nothing loath, but when they returned they
found Farnum's plan unnecessary. As the two canoes had swept along,
Dick, who was in the stern, suddenly had thrown down his paddle, and
taken up his rifle, while Art had swung the canoe about with one
dexterous stroke. Dick immediately had opened fire, and Art had followed
suit.
The boys heard the shots as they ran down towards the shore. When they
reached the sand they found Lupo's men already had faced about and were
hurrying towards the mainland. One of their number evidently was hit.
"Main good shootin' at long range a' so quick after paddlin'," commented
MacDonald appreciatively.
Content with having beaten off their enemies, the two desisted, resumed
their paddles and soon were within hailing distance. Greetings and
congratulations were exchanged, and Dick and Art ran their canoe on
shore. As soon as the first hubbub of exclamations died away, Mr.
Hampton led the way to the camp. MacDonald put the coffee pot on the
fire and between draughts of the strong, hot liquid Dick told their
story.
After leaving the previous camp, they had gone back to where they seen
Lupo break camp and start on the back trail. The meaning of this move,
they had discussed. It seemed to them folly to believe Lupo was
relinquishing the chase. They believed he would suspect Mr. Hampton and
Farnum would spy on him, and was merely trying to throw them off guard
by creating the impression that he was abandoning the chase. Therefore,
they had gone warily, convinced that at the end of a short withdrawal
Lupo would call a halt and prepare to 'bout face.
This suspicion proved correct. Some two miles farther on they discerned
the four canoes of the half-breed halted alongshore while Lupo harangued
their occupants.
"We wanted to listen powerful bad to what he was a-sayin'," explained
Dick. "But we couldn't get close enough. There wasn't much cover near
'em and we had to lay hid where the trees was thickest, quite a ways
off. Art and I lay there, a-strainin' our ears but without any luck when
suddenly somethin' happens. Most of 'em was on shore, listenin' to Lupo
but in one canoe was one man a-huntin' around like he'd lost somethin'.
"What it was we never did know. But suddenly, this fellow shoves off
with a shout to Lupo. Lupo answers like he was agreein'. So then this
fellow comes a-paddlin' down stream like mad. As he goes by where we're
a-layin' low, Art whispers to me: 'This is where Lupo turns his gang
around. That's sure. Best thing we can do is to beat it back an' warn
our crowd. An' my legs is tired. I'd like to let my arms work for me.
Let's go.'
"I nods, and without any more words we backed out and started down
stream after that canoe. The fellow is goin' like mad, which means he
ain't intendin' to go far. He's lost somethin' or other and thinks it
may be floatin' on the water or, maybe is layin' on shore where he
touched. Anyway, that's what we thought. We never did get to know. For
after we'd made a bend in the stream and put some distance between Lupo
and us, we decided it was no use runnin' any farther.
"'Here goes,' said Art. And he let fly over the Indian's head. That
fellow didn't wait for more. He just jumped out of the canoe an' started
swimmin' for the other shore. So then Art give me his rifle an' he swims
out and brings in the canoe. Last we seen of that Indian he was
streaking it back on the other bank. I got in and--well, here we are."
MacDonald, who had listened in silence, suddenly interrupted:
"How many men has Lupo got with him?"
"A dozen."
MacDonald looked at Mr. Hampton.
"You know why I want him," he said. "For murder. And then there's this
raid on you. There are eight of us, includin' these husky young fellows
of yours. Will you help me capture him an' his gang?"
Mr. Hampton looked thoughtful.
"But, MacDonald, what would you do with them? We can't turn aside from
our own object long? We couldn't help you guard them. And you couldn't
get twelve or thirteen men back to your Post single-handed, especially
if any of them are wounded."
MacDonald's face fell.
"Guess you're right," he said. "But when I think o' that skunk--murderin'
the best pal a man ever had--well, I see red, that's all." His head sank
to his clenched hands and he sat on a fallen tree, staring moodily at
the ground between his feet.
"Certainly is a problem, Mr. Hampton," said Farnum, slowly. "If we don't
do something, Lupo will continue to hang to our trail as we proceed, a
constant danger."
"I know," said Mr. Hampton. "Let me think."
He, too, sat silent, staring meditatively at the ground.
The boys had been listening with interest. Now Frank nudged Jack, with
whom he was standing by the fire, and whispered in his ear. Jack's face
brightened and he nodded.
"I'll bet they have," he whispered. "Ask MacDonald."
Frank turned to the ranger.
"Mr. MacDonald, how far away is your Post?" he inquired.
MacDonald looked up puzzled, but answered readily enough.
"A good four hundred miles to the South."
"Why do you ask, Frank?" Mr. Hampton wanted to know.
"Just a minute, sir, please," begged Frank, once more turning to
MacDonald. "And how many men are at the Post?"
"Captain and five men."
"Oh, is that all?"
Frank's tone was one of disappointment. MacDonald smiled slightly.
"People think the 'Mounties' must be as many as an army," he said.
"Well, we keep this wilderness clean with a handful. O' course, when
necessary, too, we can swear in deputies."
"Have you got wireless at the Post?" asked Frank.
MacDonald nodded.
"Captain equipped us some time back," he said. "All posts or forts, as
we call them sometimes, have wireless now."
"Good for you, Frank. I see what you're driving at now," said Mr.
Hampton. "You--"
Frank nodded.
"Yes, sir. I thought if we helped Mr. MacDonald capture Lupo and his
gang, we could call his Post by wireless and have them send men to help
him take his prisoners in."