BOGLE SHOWS HIS HAND.
A brief pause followed Brick's impulsive question. The boys looked on
with interest. Raikes gave an almost imperceptible start. Then he drew a
pipe from his pocket, and began to clean the bowl industriously with a
twig of wood.
Mr. Joe Bogle was the most unconcerned one of the party. A smile
lightened his sinister features, and he came quite close to Brick.
"We may have met before, youngster," he drawled, in a tone that was the
exact opposite of the one he had used before. "It's quite likely, though
I can't say that I remember your face."
"I guess I'm mistaken," admitted Brick. "It was your voice that seemed
familiar when you first spoke. I don't notice it now."
"I've often been tricked that way," said Raikes, laughing. "Lots of
people have voices alike. Still, you may have run across Bogle some time
or another. How long have you been in Maine?"
"I never was inside the State in my life, until two or three weeks ago,"
replied Brick.
"Then I reckon you must be mistaken," emphatically declared Raikes.
"Bogle and I have been in the woods since November."
"And I haven't been outside of Maine for nearly fifteen years," added
Bogle. "It ain't very likely we met before that."
He laughed in a rasping way. Brick laughed, too. Now that the stranger's
voice had lost its familiar chord, he was satisfied of his mistake, and
ceased to think about the matter.
Raikes quickly turned the conversation into a different channel.
"It seems to me," he said, "that we ought to overhaul that rascally
thief, and restore the stolen property to these lads. How does it strike
you, Bogle?"
He exchanged a lightning-like glance with his companion. The latter
nodded assent.
"That's right," he replied. "I'm with you. It won't take us much out of
our way."
"No," Raikes continued, "we'll catch him in a jiffy. He can't be far
off."
"It would have taken him almost this long to put on his clothes," said
Jerry. "He has snowshoes, though."
"So have we," replied Raikes. "If you lads will come along with us,
we'll try to recover the money and watch."
"Hamp ain't fit to travel," answered Jerry. "He's got to sit over this
fire for a couple of hours. And Brick and I can't leave him alone.
Besides, how are you going to cross the Mallowgash? That leap is too
dangerous."
"Just below the bend, yonder, is a clean freeze-over," replied Raikes.
"We were in the act of crossing when we heard you fellows sing out. But
one of you ought to go with us to identify the property and bring it
back. You see, the rascal may head just in the direction we want to go,
and; under them circumstances, we wouldn't care about tramping all the
way back."
"I'll go with you," eagerly exclaimed Brick. "I'd like to be on hand
when you corner Sparwick, and make him fork over."
A sudden gleam passed over Bogle's face. Raikes twisted his mustache and
looked across the stream.
"It don't matter which one of you goes," he replied, carelessly. "Come
on, youngster, if the rest are willing."
Jerry and Hamp had no objections to offer. They knew that Brick was
eager for the chase, and they saw no reason why he should not accept the
friendly offer of the two genial strangers. It was his money and his
watch that were at stake.
Brick filled his belt with fresh cartridges, and shouldered his rifle.
Then he started briskly down stream with Raikes and Bogle.
As soon as they rounded the bend, the party found the channel frozen
tightly from shore to shore. They crossed over and went up the other
side. They soon found Sparwick's trail, leading off from the Mallowgash
at a right angle. After apprising Jerry and Hamp of this fact by a
shrill whistle--the signal agreed upon--they took up the chase.
For a mile they pushed on through heavy forest and rocks. The men went
at a rapid pace, and Brick easily kept up with them.
"We'll overhaul the rascal before long," assured Raikes. "You'll get
back to your companions in time for dinner."
But at the end of another mile Sparwick was still invisible; nor did
the scant-marks of his snowshoes appear to be particularly fresh. He
evidently suspected pursuit, and was moving at his top speed.
Presently the trail turned due north. During the next half hour the
pursuers caught an occasional glimpse of Chesumcook Lake from high
ground. They pushed steadily on, until Brick began to feel a little
weary. He admitted as much to his companions.
"Don't give up yet, my lad," said Raikes. "Now that you've come this
far, you may as well finish. The rascal can't keep ahead of us long."
"And when we get your watch and money, we'll take you part of the way
back," added Bogle.
"If you'll do that, it's all right," replied Brick. "It's a long
distance to where we left the boys, and I might get lost by myself. It
must be dinner time now."
"I reckon it is," admitted Raikes.
He looked up at the sun, which was dimly visible through a bank of
fleecy clouds.
"Shall we have a bite to eat?" asked Bogle, glancing at the sled.
Raikes shook his head.
"Better not stop now," he replied. "Every minute is precious."
They pushed on rapidly, spurring Brick to greater efforts by repeated
words of cheer. Now and then they bent over to examine Sparwick's trail,
or whispered together in low tones.
An hour after midday, a strip of open ground was reached. It had
probably been devastated at one time by a forest fire.
Sparwick's trail led across the clearing to within a dozen feet of a
brook. Then it turned abruptly and entered the thick forest, in the
direction of the lake.
Raikes stooped down, and intently examined the imprint of the snowshoes.
"What do you think of it?" he asked of Bogle.
"Not very fresh, eh?" replied Raikes.
"Exactly. The scamp is traveling at a two-forty gait. It will be wasting
time to keep this up any longer."
"And the game's not worth the candle, anyhow," added Raikes.
He looked meaningly at his companion. They moved away from Brick to a
ledge of rocks that extended clear to the brook. For several minutes
they conversed in low tones. They pointed first to the stream, and then
to the rocks on which they stood. The latter, owing to their exposed
position, had been blown full of snow. Finally the men returned to
Brick.
"We've decided to give up the pursuit," said Raikes. "Instead of
gaining, we've been falling behind."
"Sorry we brought you on such a wild-goose chase," added Bogle, "but it
can't be helped."
"I don't care much," replied Brick. "Only it's a long ways back. Are you
going with me?"
"I reckon not," said Bogle. "In fact, you had better go along with us.
You're pretty tired, lad, so I'll carry your rifle for you."
By a quick movement, he snatched the weapon.
The act and the words startled Brick. He suddenly realized that his
companion had some evil design against him.
"Give me my rifle," he said. "I can find the way back alone. The boys
are likely to meet me."
Bogle scowled savagely.
"Don't get obstinate, youngster," he said, in a sharp tone. "I told you
before that you were going with us. Now march! we have no time to lose."
Again Brick recognized the familiar chord in the man's voice. Like a
flash, he remembered where he had heard it. The discovery so angered him
that he forgot every instinct of prudence.
"I know you now," he cried. "You can't fool me with your beard and
mustache. You are the missionary who was on the train that night. You
followed me and tried to steal my pocketbook."
The ferocious expression that instantly appeared on Bogle's face told
Brick he had done a foolish thing. His dread of consequences led him to
commit another blunder. He turned and dashed at full speed across the
clearing.
A hoarse command to stop fell on his ears. He disregarded it and ran
faster. He heard crunching footsteps behind him. Then one of his
snowshoes caught in a tuft of bushes, and he sprawled headlong. As he
rose to his feet, a muscular hand clutched his collar. He wheeled around
to meet Bogle's grim and angry face.
"I've got you," growled the ruffian. "Don't try another trick of this
sort, youngster, or you'll be sorry."
"Let me go!" cried Brick. "Let me go, I say. It's you that will be
sorry!"
Fear and terror lent him strength. He struggled desperately to break
loose. In the short scuffle that followed he was roughly handled. A blow
on the nose from Bogle's fist partially stunned him and drew blood. He
realized the folly of further efforts, and meekly submitted to be
dragged back.
"I told you not to be rough," remonstrated Raikes. "The lad's nose is
bleeding, and there's blood on the snow. How are you going to hide it?"
"It won't matter," replied Bogle. "It's his own fault. He had no
business to struggle. I hit him accidentally. Use your handkerchief,
youngster."
Brick did so, and in a short time the bleeding stopped. He quietly let
Bogle search him, and the belt of money that he wore under his clothes,
was soon brought to light. The men opened it greedily, and counted over
the gold coins and banknotes.
"You're welcome to that, since I can't help myself," said Brick, in a
sullen tone. "And now I suppose you'll let me go."
Raikes looked at his companion, and shrugged his shoulders.
"No; we won't let you go," replied Bogle, savagely. "The cash will do
very nicely, but just at present we want you more than anything else.
And here's a word of advice, youngster. You'll do well to heed it, for
I'm not given to idle speech. Keep your mouth shut, and ask no
questions. Obey orders, and you shan't be harmed. If you try to escape,
I'll put a bullet through you. How's that, Silas?"
"Couldn't be any plainer," assented Raikes. "I hope you understand,
lad."
Brick did not reply. He was pretty badly scared by Bogle's threats, and
had no intention of disobeying. The whole affair was a profound mystery.
He could not imagine what his captors wanted with him, now that they had
all his money.
"I guess they intend to keep me prisoner for a while," he reflected, "so
they will have a better chance to escape."
Then a darker thought entered his mind, and brought a gleam of terrible
anxiety to his face. Supposing they should make an attempt upon his
life?