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!”