GARRY SAVES A LIFE
They rushed back to the cabin and a sight met their eyes that stunned
them all.
The youngster with childish curiosity, had climbed up on the table and
captured the bottle of iodine. It was immediately evident that the child
had drunk some of the poison, for its lips were stained. There was no
telling how much the child had drunk, for the bottle had fallen to the
floor, spilling some of the liquid over the floor.
The old man seized his child in his arms, and tears began to roll down
his cheeks.
"Oh, she's going to die, she's going to die," he moaned.
Garry's brain spun with thought.
"Quick," he shouted to the old man. "There's one thing that will save
her. What did you do with that foodstuff you took out of the pack
there?"
The sharpness of his tone startled the old man into activity. The words
of Garry that there was one way to save her galvanized him into action.
"It's up there on the shelf back of you. Can ye save my baby? Hurry!
Save her an' there's nothin' on this earth I won't do for ye!"
Garry had fortunately remembered that he had in his knapsack a package
of cornstarch that they had brought to make thickening for gravy in case
they did any cooking. Garry, and for that matter both of his chums, were
pastmasters in the art of first aid to the injured. They knew that the
antidote for iodine was cornstarch.
Rushing to the shelf, Garry snatched the package and tore open the top.
His eyes fell on a can of mustard and he seized that.
On the ground outside the door Garry had noted a campfire with an old
tin pail swung across it on a branch held up by forked sticks. Working
with the speed of an express train, he dashed through the door and
grabbed the pail of hot water.
Back in the cabin, he took a tin cup from the table, and hastily melting
some of the mustard, made an emetic. This he gently forced the
frightened child to swallow. Soon the emetic had the desired effect, and
by this time Garry had moistened the cornstarch to the consistency of
cream.
While the frightened squatter looked on helplessly, Garry fed the
cornstarch to the baby, who seemed instinctively to trust the boy, and
made little fuss over taking the pasty drink.
Throughout the morning Garry, with almost the skill of a trained nurse,
watched the child's breathing and kept count of her pulse. As nothing
developed to show that the child was in any danger, Garry privately
formed the opinion that the iodine had not gotten much further than the
inside of her mouth, and that the burn of the poison had prevented her
from drinking any great quantity of it. Then, too, the stain on the
floor, where the liquid had sunk into the rough boards, was large enough
to denote that most of the contents of the small bottle were on the
floor and had not been swallowed by the child.
As the youngster brightened up, the relief of the father was almost
pitiful to see. He grasped the hand of Garry and in broken, halting
words thanked him for saving the life of the baby. At the door was a
throng of curious squatters, and when they saw that the King baby was
going to live, gradually broke away and returned to their duties. All
this time Phil had stood by ready to lend a hand, in case Garry needed
assistance.
"Boys," said the old man, "I've never broken my word before, but this is
one time that I'm going to. It will mean that we'll be driven off here,
but that can't be helped. You can go away whenever you want to. My
promise to that Frenchman ain't nothin' to me since you've saved my
baby."
This was what Garry had hoped would happen. He did not want to trade the
baby's safety for freedom, but there was still Dick to consider. He
might be and probably was in grave danger at that moment, and it
behooved the boys to return as speedily as possible to the lumber camp
to set in motion the machinery to effect Dick's release, for they had
decided that Dick was probably a prisoner at the camp. Of course they
did not know of the hidden room under the storehouse, where, at that
moment, their friend was still languishing.
"I'll make you a promise now," said Garry. "It happens that my father
owns this tract of land, and I'll give you my word that you will not be
forced to move from here for the rest of the summer. Of course the
logging will soon extend in this direction and you will be forced off,
but until that happens you can stay here unmolested. Now we're going
back to start a young war at the camp, and release a chum of ours who is
held prisoner there."
"You better stay here for awhile, for part of the word of the Frenchman
was that another boy would be brought here to be kept. Now if you boys
stay here and pretend to be prisoners when LeBlanc comes with your
friend, you can wait till he goes and then all be freed together. In
case there's any trouble comes, I guess my men and I can take care of
it."
"That's fine," said Garry. "I don't think there's anything better that
can be done. When did you expect LeBlanc to come with the other boy?"
"The Frenchman was aiming to get back here by tomorrow night," replied
King. "He'd have to start in the night time, which will probably be
tonight, and get here some time tomorrow afternoon."
"How will LeBlanc be able to find his way in the dark?" asked Garry.
"I left one of my men behind to meet him and guide him," answered the
old man. Then a thought struck him, and he asked:
"What are you all such powerful enemies for?"
Garry then told him some of the adventures that they had encountered,
and the part that the halfbreed had played in them. When he came to the
tale of how LeBlanc had kidnapped little Patty Graham, the old man's
eyes flashed fire.
"He's a treacherous weazel, that halfbreed. I don't mind some of the
other things he did, but any man that will steal a person's baby ought
to be cut into pieces. I'll tell you that. When he comes here with your
friend, we'll just tie him up and keep him here and you can do what you
want to with him."
This seemed like a stroke of real luck for the boys. It would mean
LeBlanc would be safely held until time for them to have him taken to
prison to pay the much deserved penalty for his crimes, and at the same
time would rid them of a dangerous enemy, as well as lessening by one
the allies of the rascally Barrows.
The rest of the day passed quickly, and they told the squatter king many
of the things of the outside world. He had heard little or nothing of
the great cities, and had never seen a moving picture nor ridden in a
railroad train. But he knew the woods as few men do, except perhaps the
Hermit, although there was no comparison between this giant of the
woods, who could neither read nor write, and the old recluse, who was
eternally surprising the boys with a quotation from some poet, or a
snatch of Latin.
"Now, Phil," said Garry, when they were left alone for awhile by the
squatter, "let's plan a war campaign. As soon as Dick gets here, we will
let him have a good rest, and then hike for the camp. We'll make it to
get to the small lake without anyone seeing us, and there we'll get the
canoe and portage it through the woods to the other lake. There we can
hide out and get the dope on the timber thieves. Once we have done that,
we have only to draw in the strings, and we'll have the whole job done."
Phil assented to this as the wisest course to follow, and night coming
on, they turned in. The squatter had insisted on giving up his own cabin
to them, which although poor and bare, was the best one on the clearing.
They whiled away the next day waiting the arrival of Dick, and hoping
that no change would be made in the plans of Barrows to prevent Dick's
being sent to Misery Camp.
It was late afternoon when a man whom the squatter king had sent into
the woods to act as lookout came running back.
"He's got a young fellow with him," he told the squatter leader.
"Is it the Frenchman?" demanded the old man.
"Yes, it's a Frenchman, but," and here the boys met with a
disappointment. "It's not the one that came the other time, but a fellow
that looks like him."
"Tough luck; that's Baptiste, not Jean. Look King, I've changed my mind
about having him captured. Let him go back and let the camp think that
we are held prisoners safely here. That will allow us to work with
greater freedom. Now we'll duck under cover and you meet the halfbreed
and bring Dick here."
"Just as you say," said the old man. "All you have to do around here
from now on is to say the word, and everyone in Misery will do just as
you order. I will, and I'll see to it that the others toe the line."
"Funny he don't come," muttered Garry.
"Oh, he won't be here for a time yet," said the chap who had brought the
warning. "I was in a tree top, and could see way down to a clearing, and
saw them there taking a rest. Ain't nobody on the clearin' here that can
run as fast as I can, and I came quicker than ever to tell you about
it."
"Had we better let Baptiste see us so that he will know we are still
here, Garry?" asked Phil.
"That's a good suggestion. Suppose you station a guard with a rifle
outside the door, King, and let Baptiste have a peek at us when he gets
here," directed Garry turning to the squatter.
"That's what I'll do. Here you, Job," turning to the youth who had
brought news of the coming of Baptiste and Dick. "You take your stand
outside there like as if you were guardin't the door. Now I'll get out
o' here and meet them."
The squatter king hastened out, while Job stood before the shack door
with his rifle clutched in his hands. Garry and Phil, with some
excitement, waited the coming of Dick.
In a few moments they heard someone approaching, and King threw open the
door. "Here's your friend," he whispered, and thrust someone in.
Bewilderment spread over the faces of the boys.
It was not Dick who entered the cabin, but Art Howells!