  For a moment he thought he must have been mistaken and it was nothing but a dream, but as he lay and listened the sound was repeated. He remembered that he had barred the door before going to bed, and now he thanked his lucky star that he had done so. As the sound was repeated, now with more force, he reached over and gave Jack a shake. “S-s-s-h,” he whispered, as Jack stirred and was about to speak. “There’s somebody trying the door.” “Perhaps it’s Nip,” Jack whispered as he sat up. “Not likely,” Bob whispered back. “You have the gun ready and I’ll ask who it is;” and, getting out of his bag, he crept close to the door. “Who’s there?” he called. For a moment there was no answer, then a voice replied: “Eet’s me, Jacques Lamont.” As quickly as possible Bob withdrew the bar and threw open the door. By the light of the moon he saw a powerfully built man standing in the doorway, and the next moment the two were shaking hands as though they would never stop. “Weel, weel, to think of seeing you way up here, and Jack too,” the Frenchman almost shouted, as Jack, having shed his bag, rushed forward, and throwing his arms around the man’s neck, gave him a bear like hug. “Where in the world did you come from?” Bob asked, as soon as Jack let the Frenchman loose. “I been trapping up long Glazier Lake. Geet beeg lot ver’ fine fur and take hem to Greenville.” Jacques Lamont was an old and very much loved friend of the Golden boys. He had worked for Mr. Golden off and on for many years, and the boys had always declared that he was the best Frenchman in the world. Now well past fifty, Jacques was as young and spry as most men of thirty. Straight as an arrow, his fame as an athlete was state wide. On more than one occasion they had seen him walk beneath a bar without stooping, and then run and leap over it. A fine physical specimen of manhood, his character was on a par with his physique. “I have eat supper, oui. One minute till I feex these dogs and I be with you,” Jacques said as he passed out into the night again. Both the boys followed him, and at sight of the strangers the four dogs set up a loud yelping; but, at a word from Jacques, they quickly quieted down. They were large rangy beasts, resembling closely the huge timber wolves, which they had fought. They were harnessed to a long sled, which was piled high with various pelts. It took the Frenchman but a few minutes to “stable” his team for the night, as all he did was to slip the harness from them. “No danger of them running away?” Bob asked, as they returned to the cabin. “Not a leetle bit,” Jacques laughed as he warmed his hands at the stove into which Jack had piled several pieces of wood and which was now roaring again. Although they had no light except their flashlights and that which came from the open door of the stove, the moon shone in at the window so that they were easily able to see each other. Sitting on the floor in front of the stove, the boys gave their friend a full account of their trip. “Oui, I meet heem,” Jacques interrupted, when Bob had related their encounter with Nip. “He most to the border when we meet. He look a bad one.” “He sure is,” Jack laughed, “and here’s hoping that we’ve seen the last of him.” “Oui, we make eet all right,” Jacques declared, when the boys told him of their intention of making the Carry the next day. Bob’s alarm clock went off at the appointed time the next morning, but he found that Jacques was up ahead of him and had the fire going. The Frenchman had a small supply of flapjack flour, and it made a very welcome addition to their trout menu. By four o’clock the dogs had been fed and harnessed and they were ready for the start. Jacques cracked his long whip and the dogs sprang forward, setting a pace that made the boys exert themselves to their utmost to follow. The Frenchman swung along directly behind the sled with no apparent effort. The boys knew that both man and dogs could keep up the rapid pace all day, but at the end of the first hour they were, as Jack declared in a low tone to Bob, “about all in.” “Hey there, Jacques,” Bob shouted. “What do you think we are? I didn’t mean that we expected to get to Carry before dinner time.” The Frenchman shouted a command to the dogs, and they at once came to a halt and sat down on their haunches. “Pardon moi,” he laughed. “I forgeet, you not so used to go fast. We take leetle rest, oui, and then we go not so fast, hey?” “Not so fast is right,” Jack laughed, as he leaned against a big spruce. “These long legs of yours just naturally seem to eat up space, but ours aren’t so long.” While they were resting Bob attempted to pet the dogs, but low, deep throated growls warned him not to get too friendly. “They no like strangers,” Jacques explained. “Take um three four days geet quainted, then they make friend all right if um like you.” “I think I’ll take your word for it,” Bob laughed. “That big leader has sure got a dandy set of teeth and he looks as though he’d rather enjoy taking a sample out of my leg.” In a few minutes they were off again, but now, in obedience to a command from Jacques, the dogs set a more moderate pace. Still it was, as Jack declared, plenty fast enough, and at the end of another hour Bob had to call a second halt. At ten o’clock they reached the spot where they had spent the first night of the trip, and here they stopped to cook their dinner and feed the dogs. “We mak de carry by seex o’clock eef all goes well,” Jacques declared as he began to harness the dogs again. As a matter of fact they did a little better than his estimate, for at half-past five the lights of the little settlement hove in sight. “Hello, just in time to eat. Hurry up and take a seat,” was Ezra Kimball’s greeting as they pushed open the door of the store. “Did you get the deed, or had he too much lead?” he asked as soon as they were fairly inside. “We got it all right, thanks to you,” Bob replied. “That’s the stuff. Knew you were good enough,” Ezra chuckled as he opened a door at the back of the store and called: “Supper ready, mother? Put on two more plates and then another.” “Don’t say that you’ve got trout for supper, Ezra,” Jack said anxiously. “Not a trout, that I know about,” Ezra assured him, and Jack explained his antipathy to the fish. “We’ve eaten so many trout since we’ve been gone that I’ll be ashamed to ever look one in the face again,” he declared. His fears were groundless and, while they were eating the excellent supper which Ezra’s wife sat before them, they told again the story of their trip. There was a ’phone in the store, and as soon as supper was over Bob called his father and told him of the recovery of the deed. “That’s fine,” Mr. Golden declared, his voice expressing his pleasure. “That will save me a good many thousand dollars. You two boys certainly do beat the Dutch. Tom ’phoned yesterday from Greenville and said that Ben had begun to cut on the tract. Now I’ll be up in a few days, as soon as I can get away, but when you get back to camp you might go and see Ben and tell him that you have found the deed, but don’t take it with you.” Bob gave his father a brief account of their trip but did not mention the wolves, as he knew that the thought would worry him. As soon as he told him of their meeting with Jacques and that the latter was going to Greenville the next day, Mr. Golden suggested that they give the deed to him and have him leave it at the First National Bank. “It’ll be safe there,” he said, “and I’m afraid it won’t be at the camp, as the safe there does not amount to much.” The boys were very tired and went to bed soon after supper, knowing that Jacques wished to get a fairly early start the next morning. The first man they saw, as they entered the lumber camp the next day, was Tom Bean. Jacques had not stopped, as he wished to reach Greenville as soon as possible to dispose of his furs. But he had promised them that he was coming back in a day or two and would stay a few days with them. As soon as they saw Tom they knew that something was wrong. Tom never wore that look on his face unless he was deeply troubled. However, his face brightened as he caught sight of the two boys. “Sure an’ it’s about time yez was a gitting back,” he called from the office door. “What luck?” he asked, as he came forward to meet them, holding out both hands. “The best in the world,” Bob replied, as he shook one hand while Jack did the same to the other. “Glory be! Sure an’ I knowed ye’d do it if it could be did. But come on in the office an’ tell us all about it.” Tom listened without once interrupting while they told about the trip, and when they had finished he congratulated them heartily. “But what’s the trouble here, Tom?” Bob asked. “I knew the minute I laid eyes on you that something had gone wrong, so out with it.” “Ye said a mouthful then,” Tom replied gloomily, as he thrust a big hunk of wood into the fire. “Sure and there’s the dickens to pay, so there is. Day afore yisterday Jim broke his off hind leg and o’ course had ter be shot, and thin yisterday mornin’ when the drivers went to hitch up, they found six o’ the horses sick, and two o’ thim has died since. This mornin’ three more were sick in the same way, and thot laves us wid only three ter do the haulin’.” “But what seems to be the matter with them?” Jack asked anxiously, as Tom paused. “Sure and it’s meself as don’t know. I had Doc Sam up from Greenville yisterday but all he could say was thot they must a eat sumpin thot give ’em the colic.” “Do you suppose it’s some more of Ben’s work?” “Niver a bit o’ doubt of it,” Tom replied quickly, and there was in his voice a note of anger which the boys had seldom heard. “Somebody has put sumpin in the feed as did it and who else would be after doin’ a mane trick like thot?” “Have you told Father?” Bob asked. “Not yit. I’m after goin’ down ter the village right after dinner and see if I kin hire some horses, and I’ll telephone him then. But it’s meself thot’s afeared thot I can’t git a horse at all at all, and there’s the logs a pilin’ up and no horses ter haul thim.” “I had Father on the ’phone last night and he said that Ben had started to cut on the tract,” Bob said. “Sure and he’s been cuttin’ fer two days now, and he got all of 100,000 fate down areddy, and it’s the finest spruce yer iver laid yer eyes on.” At that moment the dinner horn sounded its welcome blast through the forest and telling Tom to keep up his courage, the boys hurried to the mess house. Soon the men began to troop in by twos and threes, and as they caught sight of the boys all had a hearty word of greeting for them, especially Jean Larue. “I mees you beeg plenty,” the latter declared as he took his seat beside Jack. “I tink it be one two week you been gone, oui?” “Hardly so long as that,” Bob laughed, as he heaped his plate with potatoes and beef steak. “But we’re mighty glad to be back.” As soon as dinner was over Tom harnessed his driving horse to the light cutter and was off for Greenville. The boys, as soon as the men had returned to their work, put on their snow-shoes and started for Big Ben’s camp. “He’ll be mad as a bear with a sore head,” Bob declared, as they trudged along over the snow which was now so well packed that the broad shoes hardly made any impression. “Be mighty careful what you say,” he cautioned. “You know what he is when his dander is up, and it’ll be up a plenty when he learns that we’ve got that deed and all the timber he has cut on the tract will have to be turned over to Father.” Soon they could hear the sound of axes ringing through the stillness of the forest, interspersed with the shouts and laughter of the men as they sang and joked at their work. “They seem to be in mighty good spirits all right,” Jack declared, as they came in sight of the cutting. For a moment they stood watching the scene to see if they could locate Big Ben. “There he is over there by that big tree to the left,” Jack whispered. “All right, come on and we’ll get it over as soon as possible. But remember what I said and let me do the talking.” Big Ben was busy talking with one of his men as the boys approached, and at first failed to notice them. They waited until he looked up and saw them. “Good afternoon, Mr. Donahue,” Bob greeted him pleasantly. For an instant a look of anger flashed into the big man’s face, but he quickly controlled himself and forcing a smile said: “Hello boys. Been takin’ a walk?” “Why, yes. I guess you’d call it that,” Bob returned smiling. “We thought we’d come down and see how the new cutting was going.” “Well, it’s goin’ fine, as you can see. Don’t think I ever saw better timber. Lots of those trees’ll scale close to a thousand feet.” “I think you’re right there,” Bob replied slowly, letting his eyes glance at the fallen monarchs. “They’ll help us out a lot on our contract,” he added easily. “On your contract!” the big man exploded, the look of anger returning to his face. “Why, yes,” Bob said quietly. “Why not? They belong to Father, you know.” “I know nothin’ of the kind,” Big Ben shouted. “Them trees belong ter me and I’ve got the papers to prove it.” “I doubt it, Mr. Donahue,” Bob said. “But as I told you once before, that is a matter for the courts to decide. But what we really came down for was to tell you that Father’s deed to this tract has been found.” “What!” the big man shouted, so loudly that several of the workmen nearby glanced up. “I don’t believe a word of it,” he declared in a slightly lower tone. “And we don’t ask you to,” Bob said calmly. “Having told you the facts, we consider that we have done all that could be expected of us. It is immaterial to us whether or not you believe it and whether or not you keep on with the cutting. Of course the more you get down the less Father’ll have to cut, and if he were not an honest man as well as a generous one, he’d have let you go on cutting for the rest of the winter before letting you know about the deed.” Bob had hoped that the explanation would serve to mollify the man but it seemed to have exactly the opposite effect. Big Ben’s face grew darker and darker as he listened to the boy, and he clinched and unclinched his hands in a nervous effort to control himself. “If you’ve got the deed, let’s see it,” he demanded angrily, as soon as Bob had finished. “We haven’t got it with us,” Bob replied. “No, nor you haven’t got it anywhere else neither,” the big man sneered. “It’s all a cooked up lie to try to make me stop chopping, but it hain’t a goin’ to work; not no cock and bull yarn like that.” “Do just as you think best, Mr. Donahue,” Bob said still pleasantly. “If you really think we are lying you would, of course, be very foolish to let it interfere with your work.” “Where’d you find the deed?” Ben asked suddenly. “That’s something that I can’t tell you just at present,” Bob replied. “Of course you can’t,” the other sneered. “And there’s a mighty good reason why you can’t too.” “As you please,” Bob said. “And now, having completed our errand, we’ll go back. Come on Jack.” Big Ben turned away muttering something about two kids thinking they were smart, and, without further words, the boys started for their camp. “Do you think he was bluffing?” Jack asked, as soon as they were out of hearing. “Of course he was,” Bob replied. “Ben knows Father and us too, for that matter, too well to believe that we’d say that we had the deed when we didn’t have it.” “I guess you’re right, but do you think he’ll keep on cutting?” “I doubt it.” “I thought you would say something about the horses,” Jack said a moment later. “Well, I did intend to at first, but, after all, what’s the use. He’d have denied knowing anything about it, of course, and we haven’t any proof you know,” Bob said, a note of sadness in his voice. “You were right, of course,” Jack replied. “But it seems to me that it is about up to us to get the proof.” “My sentiments exactly,” Bob agreed. “It fairly makes my blood boil to think of those poor horses suffering. The ghost and the whiskey were not so bad, but when they start to torturing poor dumb beasts in order to get the best of us, it’s time something was done and don’t you forget it.” On reaching the camp they went at once to the big shed about a hundred feet behind the cook house, where the horses were kept. There they found a halfbreed, whose only name so far as anyone knew was Sam, doctoring the sick horses. Sam knew and loved horses and was a very capable and reliable man when it came to tending them. “Hello, Sam, how are the patients,” Bob called as they entered. “They ver’ seek, but I tink dey geet well all but the two who dead,” Sam replied. The boys could plainly see that the horses were indeed very sick and the hot tears sprang to their eyes as they looked at the suffering animals. “Any idea what caused it?” Bob asked. “Oui, I tink it in der oats. You come here. I show you,” Sam replied, leading the way to one end of the shed. He caught up a peck measure and, lifting the cover of a bin, scooped it about two-thirds full of oats. The boys noticed that the bin was nearly empty. He then sat the measure on the top of a box and began to shake it violently back and forth. Then, with his hands, he shoveled the oats back in the bin. As soon as the measure was emptied he held it out to Bob. “You see,” he cried excitedly. Bob and Jack both looked into the measure and saw, on the bottom, a thin coating of a fine white powder. “That stuff no should be in der oats,” Sam declared. “I should say not,” Bob agreed, as he touched the powder with his finger and carefully touched his tongue to it. “You come with me,” he cried, leading the way toward the cook house. The cook had a roaring fire in the stove, and taking a pinch of the powder he threw it on to the hot lid. Instantly a white vapor rose in the air. “I thought so,” he declared, turning to Sam, who was standing close by with a puzzled expression on his face. “Now Sam, when I put another bit on the stove, I want you to get your nose into that smoke and tell me what it smells like. It won’t hurt you.” “She smell ver’ lak garlic,” Sam declared a minute later, and, after a third trial, Jack corroborated his assertion. “That settles it beyond the shadow of a doubt,” Bob said. “It’s arsenic.” “You’re sure?” Jack asked. “Of course I’m sure. What do you suppose I’ve studied chemistry for?” “She ver’ pisen, dat arsenic,” Sam declared, shaking his head. “Indeed it is,” Bob said. “It’s a wonder they didn’t all die.” “Well, it seems that we’ve found out the how and now to find the who,” Jack said as they returned to the shed. By repeating Sam’s sifting process Bob secured about two tablespoons full of the white powder, which he had declared to be arsenic. This he put in a small bottle which the cook had given him. “I want you both to remember that you saw me get this stuff out of these oats,” he told Jack and Sam. “If this ever gets to court it will be a mighty important piece of evidence.” The boys did not expect Tom back until late at night, and he had said that he might not return before the next day. So they cautioned Sam to say nothing about what they had discovered, thinking it best to keep the knowledge to themselves until they had asked Tom’s advice. “But some one must keep watch here all the time,” Bob declared. “You see whoever did it may try it again, and we may get a chance to catch him, although I doubt it. I hardly think he’d dare try it a second time.” Sam readily agreed to watch through the night, saying that he would have to be up a good part of the night anyway to give the horses medicine as he had the past two nights. He said that he had had a good long nap that morning and would not miss the sleep. By this time it was beginning to get dark and they knew that within a few minutes the men would be coming in from the cutting. So the boys decided to go to the office and talk over this latest development while waiting for the supper horn. “It ought not to be a very difficult matter to trace that arsenic,” Bob declared as he lit the kindling in the office stove. “You see white arsenic is not very common around here, and if it was bought in Skowhegan or any other small town, whoever sold it would be pretty sure to remember it. Of course if the fellow sent to Boston or to some other big city for it, it would complicate matters. But I’m counting on the idea that he did not think that it would be found out.” “This is going to be real detective work, isn’t it?” Jack said as he filled the stove with wood. “It’s a job that’s apt to take a long time,” Bob declared soberly. “You see it means canvassing all the drug stores within a big radius of here; that is, unless we hit on the right one early in the game.” Just then the horn called them to supper, but as soon as the meal was over they returned to the office where they sat and discussed plans until Tom returned shortly after ten o’clock. “What luck?” Jack asked, as the foreman pushed open the door. “Sure and it’s jest as I expected. Nary a horse fer love nor money. But I got yer father on the ’phone and he’s a goin’ ter see what he kin do,” and Tom threw himself into a chair in front of the stove. “And what ye byes bin doin’?” he asked. They told him, first of their visit to Big Ben, and the Irishman chuckled with delight as he learned of the man’s discomfiture. “And we’ve found out what poisoned the horses,” Jack said. “Who did it?” Tom shouted, jumping to his feet. “Don’t get excited,” Jack cautioned, as he pushed him back into the chair. “I said ‘what’ not ‘who,’” and he proceeded to tell him how Bob had found and proved that it was arsenic. “We’ve got to give Sam a lot of credit for it,” Bob interrupted. “It was really he who discovered the stuff.” “Sam’s a mighty fine bye even if he’s a breed,” Tom declared. “And it’s meself thot’s bettin’ thot the rascle won’t git anither chance while he’s thar.” “But what do you think we’d better do, Tom?” Bob asked. “Sure and thot’s hard ter say,” Tom answered reflectively. “If we could find out who sold the stuff and who bought it, we’d sure have a bunch o’ cir—cir—, what the blazes is thot kind o’ ividence when yer don’t know nothin’ but think yer know it all?” “I guess you mean circumstantial evidence,” Bob laughed. “Sure and thot’s the woid,” and both Tom and Jack joined in the laughter at the former’s expense. “If we could find the bottle or box, or whatever the stuff was in, it would probably help a lot,” Bob suggested. “But I don’t suppose there’s much hope of that,” he added mournfully. “No, the mane skunk probably dumped the whole of it in and took the bottle away wid him,” Tom agreed. “Did Father say when he would be up?” Jack asked. “Not fer sartin sure, but as soon as he could git away, in a day or two he said,” Tom replied. “Well, don’t you think it would be a good plan to wait till he comes and see what he thinks about it?” “I think you’re right. A day or two probably won’t make much difference one way or the other, and if we do the wrong thing we might make a bad matter worse,” Bob replied, and Tom nodded his head in agreement. |
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