DICK'S MISFORTUNE
Now what of Dick all this time? Let us go back to the night when Garry
and Phil had started for the Dutton Lake to see what could be found out
about the stolen timber.
Barrows, of course, had not told the truth when he said that he had not
seen Dick after they had gone to their shack.
He had come into the office as had been agreed upon, and engaged Barrows
in conversation about fishing. Barrows had chatted cordially for a brief
while, and then excused himself for a moment to give orders to one of
the section bosses whom he heard outside.
Dick heard him give the order to work on the coming day, delivered in a
loud tone of voice, and almost instantly after the close of the
conversation he came into the office again.
The conversation was picked up where they had left off, and they chatted
like old friends for nearly a half an hour.
Finally, Dick heard the cookie calling for Barrows to come out a moment,
and Barrows obeyed the summons. Knowing that the cookie was suspected of
being in league with the traitors in the camp, Dick walked softly to the
door and tried to hear what was being said, but as they were several
feet from the entrance to the office, and speaking in the most cautious
whispers, he could distinguish nothing that was being said. Suddenly the
cookie darted away, and Barrows re-entered the cabin and stood leaning
against the door.
"Speaking about fish," he remarked, looking malevolently at Dick, "they
are foolish things since they always take bait. Now did you three boys
take me for a fool entirely, and did you think that I would take any
bait that was offered me? I know every move you made since you have been
here, including your letter to Boone. Why, you poor, useless boy, I am
playing for too big stakes here to let a pack of mere children balk me.
Your work was clever if it had been against an ignorant man, but you're
done now."
Dick's heart sank. He knew that a cog had slipped somewhere. They had
been too sure of themselves. Barrows kept on talking in the same strain
until Dick began to realize that he was merely talking against time. He
rose to his feet and prepared to make a dash for the door, but
realization came too late, for the door was thrown open and in stepped
the arch enemy of the boys, Jean LeBlanc.
"So, mon ami, we meet again. This is a mos' pleasant meeting, but you
are not to escape so easily this time."
There was hatred in the halfbreed's voice and in his eyes. Dick shivered
inwardly, although he let no sign of fear be shown in his face or
actions.
"All the better to have you here this time, LeBlanc, you just walk into
our hands; and this time you will see the inside of a jail for sure,"
said Dick boldly.
LeBlanc's face darkened with rage. He made as though to reach for the
knife that hung in his belt, but Barrows stopped him.
"That will do, LeBlanc, I'll handle this matter in my own way. Remember
you're working for me, and you do as I say or get out, and I'll find
another man for the job."
Dick was astonished at the way LeBlanc subsided. Evidently Barrows was a
much braver man than they had given him credit for being; at any rate,
he seemed to be the absolute master of the halfbreed.
"Yes, ma frien', you are the boss, but perhaps another time, when I am
not working for you, I will take care of this one. Now what we do with
him."
"We will put him in the cellar under the storehouse for the present,
then when we have captured his friends, we will have them taken to
Misery Camp."
"Taking the others will be an easy matter, will it not? We shall just
surround them like that and take them," and he snapped his fingers with
a derisive gesture.
"That's just what we won't do. Why do you suppose I am going to the
trouble of all this secrecy for? If it had been merely a matter of
capturing them, it would have been done long ago. But they have been on
their guard most of the time, and this camp is full of lumberjacks that
worked for old man Boone. If they got wise to anything, they would have
me strung up to a tree in no time, and one of the worst riots in the
history of the lumber business would have been pulled off in this camp.
No, sir, I am saving my skin."
"Why not get rid of those who would help them?" inquired Jean.
"I am, just as fast as I can. Everything was all right till these boys
showed up to play amateur detective. Now we must make a grand cleanup
and work fast. Things are getting too hot."
"I, Jean LeBlanc, am giving you warning. The bes' thing to do is to slip
a knife in a place where it would do the most good. Every time they have
cross my path, they have won, and Jean LeBlanc is not one who is easily
beaten in anything."
"Bah, you make me tired, LeBlanc. They may have had a little luck and a
lot of help, or else you didn't know how to do your work. I'm here to
tell you that Gene Barrows will not be fooled."
Dick had been sitting silently all this time, drinking in the
conversation of the two men. They seemed not to be noticing him, and in
a desperate attempt to make his escape, he darted for the door and
succeeded in getting outside. But his triumph was short lived, for he
had no more than attained the outside air, when he was seized by an iron
grip by two men, and hauled ignominiously back into the office. He saw
at once that his captors were LeBlanc's brother, Baptiste, and the
unknown chap who had been implicated with Baptiste in the attack on
Howells.
Dick reddened with rage at the laughter of his enemies, and vowed to
himself that somehow, somewhere, he would pay them for their taunts.
"Come, we are wasting time; the others may be back from their little
spying expedition at any moment. Grab him, you two," directed Barrows.
Baptiste and the unknown, whose name Dick later learned was Fearon,
seized him in no gentle grasp. One of them clasped a hard, dirty hand
over his mouth to prevent any outcry, and they walked him across the
camp to the storehouse.
Barrows produced the key and threw open the door. Once inside, the door
was carefully closed, and Barrows produced a candle which he lighted.
Dick was searched and his knife and matches were taken away.
Two heavy molasses barrels were rolled away, disclosing a trap in the
floor. This was raised and a rude ladder was seen to lead below. Dick
was mercilessly bundled down the hole, little care being taken as to
whether or not he broke his neck as he slipped down the damp ladder.
Then he heard the clatter of the trap door as it fell, and he was left
alone in the dark.
Once before Dick had been in a tight hole, and the lack of knife and
matches had almost been his undoing. Thereafter he had guarded against
this happening again. To this end he had contrived a secret pocket in
the lapel of his coat, where a knife always reposed. Also inside of the
sweatband of his hat were several matches rolled tightly in waterproof
silk.
He got out the matches, and lighting one, looked about him. He surveyed
the room with a quick glance, for the matches were too precious to use
too many of them. His quick survey showed that the underground room was
bare of any furnishing; there was not even a blanket to sleep on. He
lighted a second match and inspected the floor, discovering that both
floor and walls were constructed of hand-hewed logs, and knew that it
would take a week to dig through them with nothing but a pocket knife
with which to work.
The underground room was damp and musty, and Dick shivered.
He wondered how long it would be before they took him out, and he began
to do calisthenics vigorously to restore some warmth to his already
chilled body.
For a time he thought of crawling up the ladder and trying out his knife
on the trap door, but he had noted that it was of triple thickness of
inch boards and would probably blunt and dull his knife without making
any great impression.
There was one hope that someone might come into the storehouse above and
he could rap on the door and let them know he was a prisoner there.
After some moments of reflection, he decided that this would also be
unavailing, for the cook must also be one of the traitors. It was not
possible that he would be unaware of the secret room, and was in all
probability a member of the gang.
Dick was a healthy boy, and soon his eyes grew drowsy with sleep. He
laid himself down on the hard floor, and as soon as his bones got
accustomed to the floor, dropped off to sleep, sensibly refusing to
worry and letting the morrow bring what it would.
His last thought as he fell asleep was the hope that his companions
would not fall into a trap as he had, although he half expected that he
would be awakened any moment by the sound of the trap door opening, and
the entry of his chums as prisoners.
But when he awoke in the morning, he found that he was still alone. He
unscrewed the cover of his watch face, and felt the hands, finding that
it was nearly eight o'clock. So far no one had come, and he wondered if
he was to be given anything to eat. Two weary hours dragged on, and then
the trap was opened, and a pack of food lowered to him, together with a
pail of coffee. He looked up and saw the cook and cookee peering down at
him. Evidently they were going to take no chances of a surprise on his
part, hence their coming in pairs.
Dick called to them to ask when he was to be taken out, but they had
evidently been instructed to hold no words with him, for they quickly
lowered the trap and the barrels were again rolled into place. Dick's
last sight as the trap closed was the leering face of the cookee. He
managed to eat his food in the dark, and resolved to ask for a blanket
when next they came to bring him food.
The day dragged as though on leaden feet, but no one appeared again.
Dick thought that dinner would be brought to him, but none came, and he
figured that perhaps there were too many watchers who would be
inquisitive if they saw cooked food being carried to the storehouse.
Perhaps Garry and Phil were on the watch. This gave Dick a thrill, for
if his thoughts were true it meant that they had not been trapped in any
way.
Frequently he unscrewed the face of his watch and felt the hands to note
the time. He resolved that his first step when he got back to
civilization would be to buy a watch that had a radium dial so he could
tell time in the dark.
Dick had no idea but that he would get out, for he was one whose courage
did not fail. Then, too, he trusted in the cleverness of his companions
to get him out of the scrape.
He was squatting on the floor Hindu fashion, about eleven o'clock,
thinking that he would soon lie down and try to get some sleep, when the
trap was opened, and Barrows' voice bade him come up the ladder.
He obeyed only too gladly, for the darkness and the chill of the cellar
were beginning to get his nerve. In the storehouse he found that Barrows
was accompanied by the LeBlanc brothers. This made any chance of a rough
and tumble fight with the manager and possible dash for freedom out of
the question.
"Now there will be no fooling on your part, but you will sit down at
this case here and write a note to your friends telling them that you
have been captured by LeBlanc and are being held for ransom. That will
please them, eh, Jean?"
LeBlanc gave a wolfish grin. "At least it make them hurry to rescue
their friend. They do not like me, those boys, any more than I like
them."
"Suppose I refuse to write that note, what then?" demanded Dick.
"Why, I think we will let LeBlanc handle that end of it," said Barrows.
Jean LeBlanc's face wore a diabolic smile as he took from his mouth the
big-bowled pipe that he was smoking.
"Once I saw an Indian torture a man to get from him a secret," he said.
"It was oh, so easy. All that he did was to thrust the man's fingers,
one by one, into the pipe bowl, and after the fifth finger, the man gave
in."
Dick shuddered in spite of himself. He had heard of this Indian method
of torture, and knew that LeBlanc was not only capable of doing it, but
would take a fiendish pleasure in the operation.
"Then if that fails, which I doubt, I give you warning that your chums
will be seized on some pretext and sent out seemingly to jail with
LeBlanc as their guard, and once away from the camp, will be given to
him to do as he pleases," said Barrows. "Now do you think you will write
that letter?"
Dick had resolved on submitting to the torture before writing the
letter, but this last threat made him change his mind. He could afford
to take no chances with the safety, and perhaps the lives, of his chums,
by refusing to write. In the meantime his mind was busy trying to
conjure up some way of warning them that it was a trap.
He took the scrap of paper that was offered to him, and began to write.
As the letter drew near its close, he hastily constructed the cryptogram
which our readers are already aware of.
Barrows took the note and read it carefully, turning it over to see that
there was not other writing on the back, and scanning it for some sign
of warning. Dick was afraid that he would decipher the simple code, but
was relieved when Barrows crumpled the note to give it the appearance of
having been carried some few hours, and then put it in his pocket.
He was ordered back into the cellar, and there was nothing to do but
obey. The trap was closed and he heard the rolling of barrels, then all
was still.
Dick wondered what plot was in the wind, but was unable to puzzle it
out. He finally decided that it was only another private scheme of
Barrows to get money, and a thousand dollars would be a pretty good
haul.
He gave up trying to solve the riddle, and lying on the floor stared
into the darkness.
There was one chance in a thousand that one of them might come alone in
the morning to bring him food, and he resolved to climb up the ladder
the moment he heard footsteps above him, and with his pocket knife try
to fight his way to freedom.
With this comforting thought, he dropped off to sleep.
Following the writing of the note, Barrows slipped back to his office
and told LeBlanc to make one attempt to seize the boys, then if that
failed, they would use their ruse to attract them from the camp.
How this attempt succeeded has already been told, and all LeBlanc got
for his pains was a smash on the hand where Phil's clubbed rifle had hit
him.
He hastened back cursing, and told Barrows of the failure, and after
being upbraided was told to go to the rendezvous where the capture of
the boys was to be made.
Barrows then went to the cookhouse, where the unkempt individual that
was to act as bearer was waiting, and gave him his final instructions.
"Now," said the vindictive manager, "we shall see who wins, a pack of
mere children, or Gene Barrows!"