CHAPTER VIII
A thin stream of smoke was rising from the hole in the roof of the cabin. From the chimney volumes of vapor had suddenly begun to pour out into the moonlight. The dim glow at the window now and then flared up brightly.
"That spirit lamp must have set fire to something. Those men will be burned to death. Come, we must try to get them out!" Horace cried.
They rushed together to the cabin door. It was barricaded on the inside; they battered it with kicks and blows for a good half-minute, and at last it yielded.
A gush of smoke and suffocating fumes burst out into their faces, and the boys staggered back. The inside of the cabin appeared to be all in flames, but it was so obscured by smoke that they could see nothing clearly.
With the opening of the door the fire seemed to burn more fiercely. It seemed impossible that anything could be alive in that place; but Fred shut his eyes and dashed blindly in.
He stumbled over the body of a dog, and kicked it outside the door. Choking with the smoke and the formaldehyde fumes, he took another step, and his foot struck something soft; it was the body of a man.
Fred stooped and tried to pick the body up by the shoulders. Suddenly through the smoke Peter appeared at his side, and helped him; together they got the man out and laid him down on the snow. He was one of the French Canadians, apparently lifeless.
"Is he dead?" gasped Fred to Macgregor, who bent over the prostrate form.
The medical student peered under the man's eyelids, and felt his wrist. "No," he said, "he'll come round all right in the fresh air. It's the smoke more than the gas."
Horace came out at that moment, dragging Mitchell's limp body. The red-bearded ruffian was alive, but unconscious; the boys placed him on the snow beside his companion. Then all four of them rushed into the cabin together, and succeeded in getting out the remaining two French Canadians.
"Now the dogs! We must get them out!" cried Peter. That was not hard to do, for the animals were lying close to the door.
The strong draft from the door to the chimney had by this time cleared the atmosphere a good deal, and the boys saw that the fire was burning chiefly among the couches of balsam boughs. The spirit lamp must have scorched through the cord by which it hung, and dropped into a heap of dry twigs.
The boys had no means of putting the fire out; the immediate need was to rescue the provisions. They rushed in again, and each dragged out an armful of supplies. They took a breath of fresh air, and then hastened in again. Fred was reaching for a slab of bacon, when suddenly something exploded almost under his hand.
He jumped back, almost fancying he had been shot at. Crack! crack! bang! went several other reports in quick succession, and this time he realized what it must be.
"Run! The ammunition's going off!" he shouted, and rushed for the open; as he ran, however, he caught up the piece of bacon.
Some of the rifle cartridges were exploding, one by one, and then two or three together, and suddenly, with a tremendous bang, a whole box seemed to go off.
Then the firing ceased, and after a short interval, the boys set to work again to get out more provisions. The cabin was stifling now from powder smoke, but they got what they could lay their hands on—a bag of flour, a quantity of canned stuff, a kettle, a rifle; soon a great heap of rescued supplies lay on the snow outside.
The flames, unable to ignite the solid logs of the cabin, were now dying; evidently they would soon burn themselves out.
Mitchell at this moment gave signs of returning life. He opened his eyes, stirred, and began to cough violently. They placed him in a more comfortable position, and at the same time took the precaution of tying his wrists and ankles securely with strips of deer-hide. The man seemed dazed; he looked at the boys in amazement, and did not utter a word.
Two of the French Canadians were also reviving, and the boys tied them up in the same way. The fourth was in bad shape, and it took vigorous rubbing to restore him to consciousness: if he had been neglected a little longer he might have died.
They laid the captives out in a row on a pile of hemlock branches, and lighted a roaring fire to keep them from freezing. Horace then went through Mitchell's pockets, and recovered the sack of stones that Fred had seen. He poured the glittering crystals into his hand, while Mitchell looked on in black disappointment.
"My friend," said Horace, "you've taken a vast amount of trouble, risked committing murder, and almost lost your own life for these pebbles. Here, I'll give them to you." He poured the crystals back into the pouch, and then flung the sack into the man's lap.
FLUNG THE SACK INTO THE MAN'S LAP
The outlaw looked utterly bewildered.
"Ain't them diamonds?" he exclaimed.
"Fool's diamonds," Horace replied. "Maybe you can get five dollars for the lot. If they were real diamonds, you might be a millionaire now."
Mitchell was evidently convinced, for he swore bitterly.
"I'm curious to know," Horace said, "how you came to hear that you might expect to find diamonds hereabouts?"
"One of these breeds," said Mitchell sullenly, "got it from a brother of his down by Hickson that a prospector had died here with a pocketful of shiny stones that he'd picked up. I've prospected some myself. I thought what these stones likely was, and I got together this crowd, and—"
"We know the rest," said Peter. "You came on the same false scent that we did." Then he turned to Horace, and whispered, "What in the world are we going to do with these fellows?"
Horace wrinkled his brows in perplexity, and shook his head. "I don't know," he said.
But whatever they did, they must first of all sleep. The fire in the cabin had indeed burned out, but the place was so charred and smoky as to be uninhabitable; so they built a huge camp-fire of logs on the snow. Here they all passed the night,—there was not much left of it,—and Peter, Fred, and Maurice took turns in staying awake in order to watch the prisoners.
The next morning the boys prepared a great breakfast from the recaptured provisions. They released the right hands of the captives, to enable them to eat; the men showed no hostile spirit. Mitchell only was sullen, as usual; the three French Canadians chattered gayly; they had quite recovered from their suffocation. Four of the dogs were lively, too; but one was dead.
After breakfast the boys inspected the cabin, and carried out the rest of the supplies. Most of these were badly damaged. All the blankets had been destroyed; the rifles were charred about the stocks, but could still be used; the kettles and tinware were not much injured; but the boys found only one box of cartridges that had not exploded. Mitchell's dog harness was burned to pieces. Both the sledges had been left outdoors, and were unhurt.
As they looked over the outfit, the boys discussed their plans. They agreed that they should start for home at once. They were all anxious to have the diamonds appraised, and there was not the slightest reason for remaining. But the question what to do with the prisoners perplexed them. They could not take them along, could not leave them bound, and did not dare to set them free and restore their weapons.
Finally, however, the boys found a way out of the difficulty. They divided the provisions and ammunition into two equal parts, and loaded their toboggan with one of them. Peter then cut the four men loose.
"We'll treat you better than you did us," he said. "We're leaving you half the grub, and there are some old deerskins here from which you can make a new dog harness. We'll carry your snowshoes with us for two miles down the river, and leave them there. We'll carry your rifles three miles farther, and leave them in a conspicuous place, too."
Then the boys set out on their homeward journey. One of the Frenchmen immediately started after them in order to pick up the snowshoes and the rifles, but the boys soon left him far behind. They saw no more of any of the outlaw gang, although, for fear of an attack, they kept watch for the next two nights in camp.
None of the boys were in condition for fast travel, and the question of supplies was a serious one. Horace thought it best to make straight for the lumber camp where he had been so kindly received, and they reached it on the third day. Here they spent a couple of days in rest and recuperation, and were lucky enough to be able to buy enough beans, flour, and bacon to last them to the railway. Again they set off, and, after four days of hard tramping in bitter cold weather, they heard the whistle of a train, faint and far away through the trees.
They all yelled with joy. It was like a voice from home. They began to run, and in a short time they came to iron rails running north and south through the snowy forest. Following up the line, they found themselves at Ringwood, three stations north of Waverley, where they had gone in.
The next train took them down to that point, and they went back to the hotel, recovered their suit-cases, and put on town clothes again. It seemed a long time since they had passed that way before, and collars and cuffs were hard to wear. A great many curious eyes followed them about the little hotel.
"Find any gold?" the landlord asked them, in an offhand manner.
"No," said Maurice. If he had inquired about diamonds, the boys would have been puzzled what to say.
For the last time they packed their dunnage sacks on the battered toboggan, and shipped it to the city. They traveled on the same train themselves, and were in Toronto the next morning.
The boys parted with hearty farewells—Maurice going home, Macgregor to his rooms, and Horace accompanying Fred to his boarding-house, where he intended to find quarters for himself.
"And now for the great question!" said Horace, when they were once indoors. "Are the diamonds worth anything, or are they not? I can't think of anything else till I find out."
"Why, I thought you were sure—" began Fred.
"So I am—in a general sort of way. But I'm not a diamond expert, and I may be deceived. It's just possible that the things may not be real diamonds at all.
"But don't worry," he added, seeing his brother's startled face. "I'm pretty sure they 're all right. But I'm going to take them at once to Wilson & Keith's and get them appraised. They're the best diamond firm in the city, and they'll treat me honestly."
Horace dressed himself very carefully, took his little sack of jewels, and departed. He was gone fully three hours, and Fred waited in almost sickening impatience. At last he heard Horace's step on the stairs, and rushed out to meet him.
"What luck?" he cried eagerly.
"S-sh!" said Horace, drawing him back into the room. "It's all right. They're diamonds!"
"Hurrah!" Fred shouted wildly.
"They were awfully keen to know where I got them, but of course I wouldn't tell, except that it was in Ontario. They would have bought the lot, I think, but I wasn't anxious to sell at once. They wanted me to make a price, and I wanted them to make an offer, and both of us were afraid, I guess. However, they're going to take care of the stones for me and think it over."
"We must tell the other boys!" exclaimed Fred. "Can you make the slightest guess at what the stones are worth?"
"Hardly—at present. Maybe a thousand or two. Three of them are too small to be of any use at all, too small to be cut. The biggest has a bad flaw in it; it could be used only for cutting up into what they call 'commercial diamonds,' for watch-movements, and such things. Yes, give Peter and Maurice the news, certainly, but do it by word of mouth. Don't 'phone them. You don't know who may be listening.
"And be sure to warn them to keep the whole affair the closest kind of secret. Wilson & Keith are going to exhibit the stones in their show window, and you've no idea what an excitement will be stirred up. We'll all be watched. People will try in every possible way to find out where we got them. The newspapers will be after the story, and there'll be all kinds of underhand tricks to trap us into letting out something. Not that it would do much good, for none of you know enough to be dangerous, but we don't want a dozen parties going up the Nottaway River next spring. We 're going there ourselves."
Fred promised secrecy, and presently found that his brother had hardly exaggerated the sensation caused by the little pile of dull stones on a square of black velvet in the jeweler's window, labeled "Canadian Diamonds." The newspapers were unremitting; Horace gave them a brief and circumspect interview, and thenceforth refused to add another word to his statement. He was besieged with inquiries. He had all sorts of proposals made to him by miners and mining firms. One group of capitalists made him an offer that he thought good enough to consider for a day, but he ultimately rejected it.
Fred had his share of glory too, as the brother of the diamond finder. It leaked out that Maurice and Peter had also been on the expedition, and they were so pestered with inquiries and interviewers that it seriously interfered with their collegiate work. But by degrees the excitement wore off, for lack of anything further to feed upon. The diamonds were withdrawn from exhibition, and the jewelers at last made up their minds to offer Horace seven hundred dollars for the lot.
It was rather a disappointing figure. Horace took his diamonds to Montreal and submitted them to two jewel experts there, who advised him that they were probably worth little more, in their uncut form. The cutting of them might develop flaws, or it might bring out unexpected luster; it was taking a chance.
Returning to Toronto, he announced that he would take eight hundred and no less; and after some arguing Wilson & Keith consented to pay that price. The boys had a grand dinner at a downtown restaurant that night to celebrate it. It was far from the fortune they had hoped to gain, but they still had great hopes of discovering that fortune.
"It's more than enough to cover the expenses of your trip into the woods this winter, and our next trip in the spring, too," said Horace, "for of course this eight hundred is going to be divided equally between us."
"Not a bit of it!" protested Mac. "You found the stones. They're yours. We won't take a cent of it, will we, Maurice?"
"I should think not!" Maurice exclaimed.
Horace tried to insist, but the two boys stood firm. At last he persuaded them to agree that the expenses of the expedition should be defrayed out of the diamond money. As for their coming trip next season, the matter was left to be settled later.
There was plenty of time to think of it, for it would be months before the woods would be open for prospecting.