  Not until the following morning did the boys have a chance to discuss the happenings of the previous night. Over the breakfast table, Dick was the cynosure of two hostile pair of eyes—those of Sandy and Toma. It was quite evident that Dick’s chums were not satisfied with the outcome of the night’s adventures. Sandy, in particular, could scarcely contain himself. He kept glowering at his friend over his coffee and bacon, and Dick could see that a lecture was forthcoming. However, Sandy did not get his chance until nearly an hour later, when the three boys left the dining room for a turn in the open air. Scarcely were they outside, when Sandy broke forth petulantly: “Look here, Dick, I must say that you followed out our agreement to the letter. What did you mean by crying out like that, after it had been decided to let Frischette walk away with the money?” “But it wasn’t Frischette,” Dick defended himself. “Wasn’t Frischette. What do you mean? Of course, it was Frischette. I saw him with my own eyes.” “It was Creel.” “Creel!” “Yes, that fellow who took the box from the Frenchman yesterday.” Sandy whistled softly. “So that’s their game. Creel is Frischette’s confederate. I can see it all now.” “That’s the way I have it all figured out too. Frischette is the man who plans all the robberies and Creel is the one who executes them.” Dick paused and leaned against the trunk of a huge jack-pine, contemplatively regarding his two chums. “It means we have two persons instead of one to deal with. The treasure-box they keep between them. Each probably has an equal interest in it. I wish there was some way we could get hold of it.” “Mebbe that not be so very hard,” Toma suddenly interjected. “One night we go over to Creel’s cabin an’ find it sure. I think I know how we get it without much trouble.” “How?” demanded Sandy. “You remember yesterday when Frischette come close to Creel’s cabin he stop in the brush an’ make ’em noise for him to come out. Well, one of us do same like that while other two hide close to cabin. When Creel come out, thinking it Frischette, good chance go get box. What you say?” “A good plan, certainly,” criticised Dick, “only how are we going to imitate that peculiar, mysterious whistle. I’m sure I couldn’t.” “I couldn’t either,” declared Sandy. Toma put two fingers to his mouth and blew softly. It was an excellent imitation of the sound the boys had heard on the previous day, and both Dick and Sandy clapped their hands in delight. “You’re good!” Sandy exclaimed. “I’m proud of you. How can you manage to do it, after hearing it only once?” “I hear it many times,” flushed the young Indian. “You see, there is bird that hide deep in the woods that make ’em call like that. Frischette, jus’ like me, try make sound like that bird.” “We’ll go tonight,” exulted Dick. The other two nodded in agreement. “Ten o’clock will be a good time,” Sandy suggested. “Dick and I will enter the cabin, while you, Toma, practice your wiles upon the thieving Mr. Creel. Lead him away from the cabin as far as you can, so that we’ll have plenty of time to look around. We may have some trouble in finding the place where he has hid the box.” The boys had worked themselves up to a high pitch of excitement long before the time appointed for setting out on their night’s adventure. In order not to arouse Frischette’s suspicions, should he discover their absence, they had informed him that they were planning to go over to Lake Grassy Point, a distance of about eight miles, and visit the Indian encampment there. Fontaine and Le Sueur, they explained, would accompany them too, and he, Frischette, must not worry if they were late in getting back. To their surprise, the arrangement met with the Frenchman’s immediate approval. “Et ees good you go,” he told them. “You young fellow get ver’ tired stay one place all ze time.” Then he sighed regretfully. “Ver’ often I weesh I might be young too. Always go, always have good time. Et ees ze great fun, monsieurs.” Dick’s brow contracted thoughtfully. Did Frischette contemplate a visit to Creel himself? Had the Frenchman a plan of his own? “Just our luck,” Dick told Sandy a few minutes later, “if the old rascal decides to visit Creel tonight. We’ve gone to a lot of trouble already.” The young Scotchman slapped irritably at a mosquito that had lit upon his arm. “Yes, it was necessary to take Fontaine and Le Sueur more or less into our confidence. That’s one phase of the thing I don’t like. Those two friends of Toma’s know we’re up to something. All I hope is, that they’ll have sense enough to keep their mouths shut. If Frischette ever gets an inkling that we’re watching him, the game’s up.” “But Fontaine and Le Sueur haven’t the least idea what we purpose to do,” said Dick. “Neither one of them knows that we’re spying upon Frischette.” “Yes, but they’ll think it’s queer that we’re deceiving him. They’ll wonder why we have lied to him, want them to go to the encampment while we remain behind.” “You don’t need to worry about that, Sandy. You may depend upon it that Toma has made our proposed actions seem very plausible.” Sandy grinned. “Toma probably has told them a wonderful story. I’ll agree with you there. He certainly possesses a keen imagination.” Dick consulted his watch. “It’s twenty minutes past nine now. I think, Sandy, we’d better go back to the house and find Toma and the others. It’ll be time to start before long.” They hurried along the path, and a few minutes later entered the house, where they were joined by Toma and his two friends. Soon afterward, Frischette strode into the room, carrying his coat and hat. “I go with you a leetle way,” he announced. “All day long I work in ze kitchen, where et ees hot. I think ze night air mebbe make me feel good.” Dick glanced sharply across at Sandy, keen disappointment depicted in his gaze. The Frenchman’s announcement had taken him completely by surprise. The situation was awkward. “Why not come all the way to the encampment with us,” invited Dick. “We’ll be glad to have you.” Frischette threw up his hands in a gesture of dismay. “All zat way! Empossible! Et ees too far, monsieur. I am too tired. Eight miles there an’ back an’ ze brush tangle in my poor tired legs. No, I will go only a ver’ short way.” So Frischette, much to the boys’ disappointment, accompanied them. He chatted as they walked, continually gesturing, often stopping abruptly in his tracks to point out some inconsequential object. Never before had Dick been given so excellent an opportunity to study the man. He was slightly amused at the Frenchman’s queer antics. He would become intensely enthusiastic over the merest trifles—a bright flower, a sparkling stone, a gnarled, misshapen tree. A person of moods and impulses, Dick decided, watching him. Sometimes he wondered if Frischette were not assuming a certain behavior for their special benefit. What was his real purpose in coming with them? Certainly it was not because he really wanted the exercise and fresh air. More likely, he intended to go over to visit Creel. Their course to Grassy Point Lake led them in the general direction of Creel’s cabin. When the Frenchman bade them adieu and turned back, Dick estimated that they had still about two miles farther to go before they would be directly opposite the abiding place of the mysterious recluse. Realizing this, his previous conviction that Frischette was really going there became shaken. Perhaps, after all, the road-house keeper had told the truth, was actually going back as he said. Even if the man planned to strike off obliquely through the woods to Creel’s, hope of obtaining possession of the box was not altogether lost. They might still turn the trick that same night, if only they hurried. By running part of the way, they would arrive at the cabin sufficiently in advance of Frischette to achieve their purpose. With this thought in mind, Dick, after waving a friendly farewell to the unsuspecting Frenchman, led the party forward quickly until a turn in the trail obscured their movements. Then, breaking into a run, he darted along the shadowy forest path, motioning the others to follow. Ten minutes later, the three boys drew away from Fontaine and Le Sueur, striking off at right angle with the dim trail to Grassy Point Lake, and continued their hurried course straight in the direction of the lonely cabin. As they proceeded on their way, excitement, caused by the thought of their coming adventure, grew upon them. They were shaky and nervous when they finally drew up in front of a thick screen of underbrush, less than sixty yards from the house. Dick motioned to Toma. “Hurry around toward the front of the cabin,” he whispered tersely, “and give your bird-call.” “Sure you all ready?” inquired the young Indian. “Yes, all ready.” “I go then.” Without further word, Toma slunk forward, skirted the line of underbrush and presently disappeared from view. |
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