With the scream still ringing in their ears, Garry and Phil dashed into the lean-to to discover Dick staring spellbound at the ground.
“Look,” he gasped.
The boys cast their eyes on the ground, and beheld a big rattlesnake, stone dead.
“Did you kill it, Dick?” was Garry’s first question.
“No, it was laying there under the boughs that made my sleeping place. Gosh, it scared me, I can tell you. I don’t know what made me scream so. I guess it was just the thought that it might have been alive, and that I would have laid down there tonight. I saw that it was dead, of course, the minute I looked at it, but I couldn’t help letting out that yelp. Ugh, it makes me creep now to think of it. Wonder how it chose that place to die?”
“Must have crawled in and then gave up the ghost,” said Phil.
In the meantime Garry had been examining the reptile’s body.
“That snake was killed by a human being,” he announced. “See, its head is crushed, and it has been hit several times with a club. Don’t see how it could have crawled very far after being mashed up that way.”
“What do you mean?” was the startled question of Dick.
“Looks suspiciously like an ill-timed practical joke to me,” answered Garry. “Of course it is foolish to think we are the only ones that ever come near here, and some passerby or camper might have killed it and seeing that this place was occupied, hidden it there to do just what it did—scare one of us half to death. Any snake is bad enough, but a rattler, even a dead one, is enough to shake anyone’s nerve for a minute.”
“Well, let’s throw the thing away and forget about it,” said Phil.
“I think I remember Dud say once that among his many occupations and ways of making a living in the woods, was by skinning a snake whenever he happened to kill one, and selling the skin. There are some people who want such things for curios, but blessed if I would want one,” said Dick. “Chuck it outside and next time we see him we can tell him he can have it.”
“Wonder if Dud would have done that for a joke,” asked Phil.
“I doubt that,” said Garry. “Dudley is too sensible a person to play a fool trick like that, knowing how it would startle anyone. No, whoever did that was half foolish. Gosh, there’s the coffee boiling over,” and Garry dashed to the campfire. They forbore talking about the snake during supper, and were about to forget it, when Garry looked at his chums with a gleam of understanding.
“Listen, you two. I may be wrong, but am more likely right. I just happened to remember something that gives me the creeps. If I’m right, it is the most dastardly attempt to kill a person that I ever heard of.”
“Gosh, don’t give a lecture; tell us what you mean,” broke in Dick.
“It’s just this. That dead rattler was put there with a distinct purpose by some one who wants us out of the way!”
“You don’t think anyone is foolish enough to believe that a dead reptile would drive us away do you? Of course we would be startled, but it wouldn’t make us run out of the country,” scoffed Phil.
“No, you don’t get the point at all,” said Garry, his face paling at the thought. “Haven’t you ever heard that the mate of a dead snake will always find the body and wait there, sometimes for days? It must be some instinct that makes it think the killer of its mate will come that way, and enable him to get revenge.”
The truth of this sank in with such appalling suddenness that the boys were speechless for a moment.
When at last Dick found his voice, he said in a trembling tone that he tried to conceal but could not:
“Why, that means that I might have been bitten as I slept tonight; and not only that, but all three of us might have met the same fate. Who do you suppose was at the bottom of that attempt on our lives?”
“Well,” remarked Garry grimly, “I can think of only one person who would have been fiendish enough to do that, let alone think of it. It’s an old Indian trick to get rid of an enemy without leaving a trace. Boys, just as sure as we’re sitting here, Jean LeBlanc is back on our trail, and that snake was put there by none other than our halfbreed enemy!”
“That means step carefully every minute then, doesn’t it?” asked Phil.
“You bet it does,” responded Garry. “From now on we go back to our old system of night watches. Two hours and a half of duty for each of us every night while we are in the woods, and eyes in the back of our heads all the time.”
“Do you suppose Lafe Green could have done that?” queried Phil. “You know he gave a pretty significant warning to you last night, Garry.”
“No, I don’t believe he would have thought of that, and besides he was around town all day, as you will remember Denton told us when we asked him. It means that LeBlanc has come back and they have joined forces.”
The chums carefully searched every nook and corner of the lean-to, and shook out the boughs that made their bunks, for they did not know what other infernal contrivance their enemies might have laying in wait for them.
It was also agreed to keep the campfire going all through the night, the boy being on sentry duty being detailed to keep it supplied with fuel. To this end, all hands turned out for a few minutes and gathered firewood. A sharp watch was kept for the mate of the rattler, and before turning in, it was carried several feet away from the camp, and thrown at the foot of a tree.
“You know I have an idea that whoever did that, or rather say LeBlanc, since we are morally certain it was his work, will come back here tomorrow to see if his ruse worked. If he finds us gone, he will be likely to look under the boughs to see if the reptile is still there. Now we are not certain that it is LeBlanc or Green, it may be someone else. In that case we would want to know what he looked like. So here is my idea. Just before we leave in the morning, I am going to rig up a camera trap,” said Dick.
“A what?” asked Phil.
“Camera trap; haven’t you ever heard of one? They’re often used in the woods by people who want to get good pictures of wild animal life. You just fix a place for the camera and focus it on a spot, then set a trap that will pull down the lever when it is stepped on or moved. Simple as A B C. I’ve never done it before, but I know how to construct one. We’ll do it first thing in the morning.”
By this time it had become quite dark, and the boys turned in, except for Phil, who drew the first tour of sentry duty. Warning him to keep his eyes and ears open every minute, Garry and Dick rolled into their blankets.
Phil was as restless as a cat on a hot plate. Every snapping twig or soughing of the breeze through the trees made him jump. He made constant patrols around the lean-to, snapping on his pocket electric light as soon as he got out of the range of the light afforded by the campfire.
Nothing, however, developed during his watch, and it was with a bit of relief that the end of the two and a half hour period came. He awakened Garry, who was to take the second watch, and soon was curled up in his blanket and fast asleep.
Garry felt much the same as Phil had, although he took things easier, for he was not of the sensitively nervous type as was Phil.
Nevertheless, he too was glad to call Dick. It was not that the boys were in any way cowards, for they were not. Had it been a human being whom they expected, they would have thought nothing of it; rather they would have considered it a welcome bit of excitement. But this was an entirely different matter—a creeping enemy that would come on them unawares, and which was more dangerous than human being or animal could have been.
Dick yawned and grumbled when Garry shook him, then he rubbed the sleep out of his eyes, and looked to see that his rifle was in good working order.
“Anything stirring?” he asked, as Garry handed over the electric torchlight to him.
“Nothing breezing yet; keep your eyes peeled,” whispered Garry.
Dick took a round of the lean-to, then running true to form, rummaged around till he found a package of cookies he had bought the previous day, and munched away at them as he watched. He kept his eyes glued to the spot where the dead reptile had been thrown, flashing his light there at momentary intervals.
Then another thought struck him. He now wondered whether the snake would go directly to the body, or whether it would come first to where its mate had originally been. This made Dick jump to his feet, for he had been sitting with his back to the lean-to where his chums were asleep, where he could watch everything for several feet around in the gleam of the campfire. He patrolled the camp, and then came and threw fresh wood on the fire. As the dry branches caught and burst into a bright flame, he cast one look at the spot where the dead snake had been put, then let out a yell, and throwing his rifle to his shoulder, fired after a hasty but accurate aim. He emptied the magazine before he stopped firing.
The shots brought his companions tumbling out with their rifles.
“What is it Dick?” shouted Garry.
“Gosh, it’s a wonder I had presence of mind enough to shoot,” shivered Dick. “I looked at the place once and saw nothing, then made a patrol of the camp and threw on some more wood. It couldn’t have been quite five minutes when I looked at the spot once more, and there, coiled up was a real live snake. Let’s go over and see if it’s dead.”
“Careful now; throw on some more wood and get your flashlights out,” ordered Garry. “Dick, you take the three of them, they’ll give a fine light. Phil, you and I will take our rifles, and we’ll edge over there very slowly. Be ready to shoot on the instant.”
“Wait a minute,” said Phil. “Bullets won’t always kill a snake. Get a pole and be ready to break its spinal cord with a good blow. One can keep his rifle ready. A rattler can’t strike without coiling, and if it is alive it’s probably threshing around from the bullets. Here, grab this heavy sapling that forms a support for this side of the lean-to.”
It was only an instant to tear away the pole, and then with Dick holding the flashlights they advanced cautiously. When they reached the spot they heard no warning rattle. The rattle snake never strikes without first whirring the button-like appendages on the tail. They looked and saw that Dick’s aim had been deadly. Dick’s magazine rifle contained fifteen bullets, and he had emptied the whole of them at the snake. One had taken deadly effect, smashing the reptile’s head, and one or more had severed the spinal column.
“Ugh, that’s over with, unless they bring some of their cousins and aunts,” said Dick with a little shudder.
Dick’s remark brought a relief to the tension, and the others laughed heartily.
“No, it’s all over now,” said Garry. “We’ll heave these things far into the woods and forget about it. Mark where we put them and Dud can have the skins. Now let’s get back to bed. Just to be safe, however, Dick you finish the night watch.”
Quiet then reigned in the camp, and Dick waited contentedly until dawn, when he started the coffee and then awakened his companions.
Immediately after breakfast, Dick set about making his camera trap.
“First thing we must do,” he announced, “is to make this lean-to so that there is only one entrance. That’s because I can focus the camera to cover only so much ground. Best way to do is to lay two or three more saplings crosswise between the two brush shacks, and weave some branches on them.”
All three set to work and made the lean-to inaccessible on one side. This was done by laying four saplings across the opening and fastening them to the uprights that held the lean-tos. On these were hung quantities of branches, which were then twisted in and out of each other much as one would weave a basket. This is the usual way to make a brush house in the woods, and so constructed, they are easy to make and all right for good weather. Of course a heavy rain will soon penetrate, and so they are not generally used for permanent camps. Still, when they are properly prepared, and thickly woven, these houses will keep out an ordinary summer shower.
“There, how’s that for a job?” asked Garry.
“Pretty good, except for one thing. We’ll need some more branches so as to make that wall extra thick, because it is in that that I am going to mask the camera,” answered Dick, who was superintending the job since it was his idea.
This was soon done, and then they stepped back and surveyed their handiwork.
“Now what’s the next step?” queried Phil.
“Next thing to do is to dig a shallow trench two feet square and six to eight inches deep. Only way I see to do that without a shovel is to use our hatchets as pickaxes, and then scrape away the dirt with our hands.”
“What’s the idea of the trench?” asked Garry.
“You ought to be able to see that without asking questions. That’s what I’ll use to lay some sort of a platform on that will cause the lever of the camera to snap. Thing that stumps me just now is how to make that platform. Before we cross that bridge, however, let’s get that trench fixed. On second thought, it need be only about three inches deep. I am beginning to see light.”
The work of making the trench was simple, and when it had been completed, Dick ordered them to get about a dozen thin saplings.
“Strikes me the fat boy is pretty good at bossing, isn’t he, Garry?” said Phil with a laugh.
“Go on now, get those saplings. You see before you a mighty inventor who cannot be bothered with menial tasks,” said Dick in a lofty tone.
“Don’t know whether to trip him up and sit on him, or just ignore him,” said Garry to Phil.
Still chaffing good naturedly, the two set out for the saplings, while Dick busied himself with setting his camera in the brush, masking it so that only the lens appeared. Having done this, he stepped away a few feet and looked to see if it was observable. He decided that no one could see it without looking for it especially.
Garry and Phil came back and stood for a moment, looking straight at the brush screen that had been erected.
“Why didn’t you improve the shining moments and put your camera in place?” asked Garry as he saw the closed case lying on the ground.
“Fine!” exclaimed Dick delightedly. “It’s there already, and if you boys who know about it couldn’t see it, then certainly no one else will. Now for the trap.”
The making of the trap was a delicate process. First he took two sticks and laid them crossways at each end of the trench. Then he anchored these securely at each end, putting dirt on them and stamping it down with his heavy shoe packs so that it would not stir in the slightest degree.
Next he delved into his knapsack and brought out some strong but thin linen cord they had bought some time previously and which had served them well at various times, since it was light enough to do fairly delicate work with, yet strong enough to bear some strain. He ran a length of this from the lever on the camera to a sapling which was laid across the two supports that he had built. With this as a guide, he attached a dozen threads a foot or two from where the nearest sapling began.
The next thing was to run the main string down and under one of the sapling supports on the brush screen where the camera was concealed. He smoothed away the bark from the wood so that the string would slip easily, and then ran it back up to the ridge of the lean-to. From there it was brought across and down to the ground, where the trap was to be laid.
“You see the idea, now, don’t you?” Dick asked.
“Well, we have vague glimmerings, and that is all,” answered Garry, speaking for himself and Phil.
“The thing is simple enough. This cord has been brought around so that it is attached to the lever and to this trap. When someone steps on the trap, it will sink just enough to pull on the cord, and that will bring down the lever, and presto, your picture is taken.”
“Well, I see that,” said Garry, “but what’s to prevent its taking another picture when someone steps on it again?”
“Easy again. Once the camera has been snapped by the trap, its work is done. You see the lever on this camera takes one picture when you pull down, then to get another, you push the lever back up. Of course there is nothing in this crude trap that will push up, so you can take only one picture without resetting the trap,” explained Dick.
“That’s well explained; now tell me something else and I will keep quiet for a while,” said Garry. “Why have you tied some extra threads to your main line that leads to the lever?”
“That’s an extra precaution. If I had a wide board that I could set in the ground, a weight on any portion of it would cause the entire board to sink a bit, and that would give the necessary pull to release the lever. But we have no board and so I must lay these strips of sapling close together. Suppose that the intruder steps on one spot, he would only cover about nine or ten of these saplings, and if my string was not hitched to those particular saplings, the trap wouldn’t work. The idea of the extra strings is so that on whatever portion of saplings anyone stands, he will be sure to pull down on a string. Savvy?”
“Right, as usual, I stand corrected,” murmured Garry in a purposely humble tone.
Dick looked at him sharply.
“Are you trying to rag me a bit?” he asked.
“No, not trying to,” answered Garry with special emphasis on the word “trying.”
Dick was about to make a retort, then kept silent, for he knew that Garry was having a bit of fun with him, and in a battle of words with the sharp-witted leader, he knew from experience that he would come off second best.
All that remained now to do was to set the saplings. Dick filled in the trench so that the saplings would clear the ground by just about half an inch, all that was necessary to bring down the little lever. One by one the saplings were laid and the threads attached, Dick drawing the string taut while Garry held the lever up so that it would not be accidentally pulled down. Finally the saplings were all laid.
“Now we must cover the saplings with some dirt very carefully and smooth it down hard,” said Dick. The dirt was sprinkled on and then bidding Garry guard the lever, Dick patted it down hard on the improvised platform.
“That’s good so far,” said Phil. “But won’t the person who steps on that feel the give of it, and become suspicious?”
“That’s one chance we will have to take, but I intend to sprinkle a few pine needles on top of this and try to give it the appearance of soft ground. You know how often one steps on a springing, spongy surface in the woods.” As he talked he threw handfuls of pine needles on the spot.
“There, guess that’s camouflage for you. I don t think anyone would ever know it had been fooled with,” said Dick, with some pride in his handiwork. And indeed he had good cause to be pleased, for the ground looked not a whit different than the surroundings.
“There is just one thing more. That is the liability of the intruder sneaking around the corner of the lean-to and dodging the trap altogether,” said Dick, “and we can soon fix that with a few saplings. We will make a sort of little fence with an opening only wide enough for an entrance. That will serve a double purpose. It will make the intruder step on the trap, and it will offset the appearance of the brush wall at the back by making it appear that we have simply fixed up our lean-to in fancy fashion.” As he spoke, Dick began to make the “fence,” and the others, catching onto the idea, lent a willing hand.
When it was completed, the shack had a comfortable air about it that led the boys to decide that when the trap had served its purpose, the other trappings would be left as they were.
“Now let’s pull out for town and see Denton and look up Simmons, just to see what he has to say for himself,” suggested Dick.
The chums slung their packs over their shoulders, for they seldom went anywhere without them, not knowing at what moment they might be called on to make a hurried move.
The work of making the trap had required about two hours, and the walk to town generally took them an hour. This morning it was a trifle longer, for the day was fine, and there was no especial need of haste, hence they sauntered along at an easy pace, while chattering about half a dozen different topics.
They reached town about ten in the morning and proceeded to the general store. Denton was sitting on the front porch, his usual place when the duties of the store did not demand his attention.
He saw the boys approaching and waved to them as they walked up the street.
“Well, what news this morning?” asked Garry.
“Nothing much more than usual. Simmons was in this morning and looked around and asked when the next batch of registered letters was expected, and then said he was going to drive to Coldenham, and off he went.”
“Why should he ask you when registered letters would come?” asked Garry, who was rather puzzled at what seemed the peculiarity of the question.
“How are you supposed to know anything about when certain letters will arrive?”
“Lately, Ferguson’s office has been calling me on the telephone to let me know when money was expected, in the hope that I could exercise special care for the safety of the letters. Of course I told Simmons about it, so it was natural that he should ask me about this.”
“Are any letters due today or tomorrow?” asked Garry.
“Yes, I got notice early this morning that some were expected from Portland in payment of the last loads of pulp sent down the line.”
There was nothing else in the way of news, and so the boys, after chatting about other matters for a few moments, took up their way towards Aunt Abbie’s house. On their way they passed the French restaurant where Dick had once been imprisoned by LeBlanc and Green, and were not greatly surprised to see Lafe Green standing in the doorway. He gave the boys a malevolent look as they neared him, and when they passed by whispered sibilantly:
“This is your last warning; get out of here and get out quick!”
Garry stopped in his tracks.
“Listen, Green. Let me give you a little warning. You can’t drive us out of town with threats, and all your little schemes and those of LeBlanc won’t do you a bit of good. And there won’t be any kidnapping either, for we are making no move without letting someone know where we are going and why. The moment that anyone of us disappears for more than six hours, you and all your friends will be tracked down and arrested.
“I am writing a complete account of this business for the sheriff, and for the state authorities at Augusta, so that any move you make will bring you speedily before someone that you cannot get away from. Now, is that clear to you?”
Green laughed loudly, but there was a false ring in his mirth. The idea of the boys having a constant check kept on their movements was not evidently to his liking, neither was the fact that the state authorities would take up the matter. He knew, of course, that the boys were in the Ranger Service—LeBlanc had told him that—and knew that the Rangers would leave no stone unturned to run down anyone that would harm a member of that service.
“You make big talk, young fellow, but I’m telling you that this country is dangerous for you; not from me, understand, but from some people that I don’t control. Better save your skins and get back to the city and not concern yourselves with things that you shouldn’t.”
Green turned on his heel and walked into the restaurant, and the boys resumed their way.
“What’s all this about a letter, Garry?” asked Dick. “That is the first I’ve heard of it.”
“Same here,” said Garry. “It just struck me at the moment, however, that it would be a wise thing to do, and so I threw it at Lafe in the hopes that it might check his future actions slightly. I believe the shot went home at that.”
Arrived at Aunt Abbie’s, they found her all wrought up.
Her first words exploded like a bombshell.
“Ruth went out last night and hasn’t been home since!”