CHAPTER X.—A RABBIT AND A SECRET MEETING.
“What is it, Captain Joe?” Clay asked, as if Captain Joe could turn around and tell him what he saw in the thicket under the cedar trees. “Go slow, old fellow, for it may be a beast you can’t handle as easily as you handled the cub. Better keep back until I get out my gun!”
Captain Joe continued to snarl at the thicket, and Clay advanced a few paces and peered under the underbrush which was clinging for fragile support to the floor of the canyon.
He saw a human figure moving about, a tall figure bending low and parting the bushes to look out upon the burning log. The description Alex had given of the man who had pursued him around the angle of rock at the campfire near the pass at once came to the mind of the boy.
Clay moved away, so that one looking into the space where the log lay would not be able to see him, whistled softly to the dog, and waited. Captain Joe retreated with a growl of defiance and crouched down at the boy’s feet, still keeping his eyes on the thicket straight ahead.
The intruder had evidently not seen nor heard the dog, and had no idea that he was watched, for he pushed the bushes aside and stepped into the opening. There he stood, a figure massive and muscular, looking curiously at the burning log for some moments.
Clay observed that he limped slightly as he walked, and noted, too, that his hands hung almost to his knees when dropped to his sides. The face was masterful and intelligent. The fellow was evidently the same who had been shot by the brakeman on the Canadian Pacific train.
“Now,” thought the boy, “how the Old Harry did he get here? And why is he here? It certainly looks as if we had been followed from the pass by this chap.”
The more Clay thought of the matter, the firmer became his conviction that the man he saw had twice before appeared in their journey from the Rocky mountains to that point. He might have been one of the campers, or he might have been hidden in the canyon back of the fire.
Gran had suggested the presence of a party not in view from where Alex had taken the snapshots. He had given no reason for this supposition, but Clay had come to the conclusion that it was a correct one.
Clay regretted then that he had not secured more definite information about the train robbery at Donald. He had not even learned whether any one had been arrested charged with the crime.
If the campers had been questioned and released as innocent, then it was certain that others had been in the pass at the time they were enjoying themselves before their fire. The men who had held up the train must have been already on the ground!
But, even then, this man and the companion who had swung onto the train which had towed the Rambler’s car away might have had no connection with this second party. They might have been merely loungers, waiting for an opportunity of getting out of the mountains without contributing to the treasury of the railroad company.
But why had they followed the Rambler? How had they managed to get into the valley of the Columbia ahead of her? Clay took it for granted that the conductor had told the truth, and that there were two on the train. He also accepted as true his impression that the second man was not far away.
There were many questions connected with the appearance of the fellow at that place which Clay could not answer, and so he gave them all up and devoted his whole attention to the intruder and his movements. The man stared about the little clearing for a minute as if expecting to meet some one there, and then limped out in the direction of the ridge near which the Rambler lay.
Captain Joe seemed anxious to interview the fellow and ask him a few questions, but Clay kept close hold of his collar and held him back when he would have bounded forward. The dog resented this, but kept quiet.
The long-armed man followed the canyon to the river front, glanced cautiously up to the spot where the Rambler lay, and crouched down in the shelter of a rock, as Clay thought, to wait for definite information regarding the situation on the boat.
Clay, following and watching, saw Case, Alex and Gran standing on the deck examining automatic pistols. He could not hear what they were saying, but their gestures indicated that they were thinking of going up on the mountainside to look for game.
The tall watcher seemed to interpret the situation just as Clay did, for he turned away with a shrug of his shoulders and disappeared in the canyon, which parted just below the place where Clay stood, one dip running to the northeast and one to the southeast. He took the one pointing to the southeast, passing near the boat, and was soon lost to view.
Clay made no attempt to follow him. Indeed, the sudden appearance of the fellow there seemed so unaccountable, so impossible, in fact, that the boy almost doubted the correctness of his eyesight. Still, there was the testimony of Captain Joe, who was more than anxious to follow the fellow, and this was not to be disputed.
The boy resolved not to mention the matter to his chums. It could do no good, and, besides, such a course would prevent a great deal of anxiety on the part of the strange boy, who still shuddered at mention of the pass and the happenings there. Directly Alex came running up.
“How’s the boat-builder by this time?” he asked. “Going along all right, eh?” he added, as he noted the progress made by the fire in the heart of the log. “I’ve brought the saw and the knives, as you see,” he continued, throwing the tools down on the ground, “and we’ll have a cedar canoe in about two minutes and a half.”
He brushed away a mass of coals and cut sharply into the bottom of the burn with a hatchet. The result of his examination seemed to be entirely satisfactory, for he rolled the log over, tipping out the fire and crushing it out by rolling the log over it.
“The burn is deep enough,” he said. “If it had burned a few minutes more it would have weakened the bottom. Now, I’ll bring some water from the river, put out the fire inside and begin chopping. We’ll have a canoe we’ll be proud of before long. Great idea, what? Do you think you can ride in it after we get it launched?” he added, with a wrinkling nose.
“Of course I can,” replied Clay, indignantly. “All you’ve got to do in order to ride a cedar canoe is to keep your head and your balance.”
“There’s one more thing you’ve got to do,” Alex laughed.
“What is it?” asked the other. “Tell me about it, so I’ll know!”
“You’ve got to get used to riding under water about half the time,” announced Alex gravely. “When it tips over you’ve got to hang to it and wait for the top to come around to the sky again. Do you think you can get used to journeys under water? I think they’ll be rather pleasant.”
“Where are Case and Gran?” asked Clay, after they had chopped for an hour at the blackened wood. “I hope they aren’t thinking of leaving the boat alone. That will hardly be safe, in this wild place.”
“Why,” replied the other, “they were talking of going up on the mountain after game for dinner when I left. They think they can shoot.”
“One, at least, ought to remain in the boat,” Clay suggested. “When we return they may go hunting together if they want to, only I wouldn’t advise a long stop in this valley. We’d better be on our way, I think.”
“I reckon that’s right,” Alex agreed, “for, come to think about it, Gran was going alone, but I’ll go and tell them both to stay on the boat. Have you noticed Captain Joe?” the boy continued, pointing to the dog, now snarling at a thicket farther up the canyon. “He seems to have found something. I’ll go and see what it is.”
Before Clay could offer objections, the boy was away, chasing along through the brush on the heels of the dog. Presently Clay heard a roar of laughter.
“He’s got a rabbit!” Alex shouted, “and he’s making as much fuss as if he had another bear. I guess we’ll have some fresh game for dinner now,” the boy continued, making his appearance with an animal which looked something like a rabbit, but was larger and evidently more ferocious, for the dog had torn it not a little in making the capture.
“I wonder if it is good to eat?” Clay asked, thankful that it was nothing more than a rabbit, or something akin to the rabbit which Captain Joe had scented out.
He had, as will be understood, feared that the intruder with the long arms had returned to that vicinity. Besides, the capture of the rabbit if such it was, would make a hunting trip, such as Case and Gran had planned, unnecessary at that time. The boy was overjoyed at the outcome of the incident, and asked Alex to carry the capture to the boat and talk with the others about eating it, also to warn them against leaving the boat alone, even for a minute.
“I’ve got a book on natural history,” the boy exclaimed, “and I’ll look up the pedigree of this beastie. When I get back to the South Branch, I’m going to write a book entitled: ‘Wild Animals I Have Never Met Because I Could Run Faster Than They Could.’ Don’t you think a volume of that character would make a hit in the literary world?”
“Bound in calf, or sheep?” asked Clay, with a broad grin.
“Bound in bear!” explained Alex. “And bound to win!”
“Go on to the boat!” commanded Clay, “and see about having that rabbit cooked for dinner. Then come back here and help me get this canoe into the river. We can finish hewing it out any old time. Just now, I am anxious to be on our way. I don’t like this dark valley.”
“It certainly is a wild one,” Alex answered as he darted away.
Clay drew a long sigh of relief as the boy disappeared in the direction of the boat. He did not quite like the idea of running away from the man who had three times shown a disposition to pursue them, still, he believed that the wisest course was to avoid trouble if possible.
He would have given a good deal for information regarding the purpose of the fellow. He would have endeavored, then and there, to have forced a meeting only for the fact that an unsatisfactory conclusion of a struggle might have spoiled their long-planned trip down the Columbia.
Alex returned, presently, with the information that it was really a large rabbit Captain Joe had caught, and that it was to appear on the dinner table in the shape of a stew. By this time the canoe was taking form, and the boys rolled and pushed it to the river.
Once there, they tied it to a strong line and fastened the line to the Rambler. The further work of cutting out the wood could, they planned, be done at any time. Clay was not quite certain that the cedar was in good condition, for the fire had done quick work. He had read that Indians, when they resorted to making this kind of canoes, usually required three or four days in which to hollow out a large log.
When Clay got back on the Rambler, he went straight to the cabin and began another hunt for the films. He had always believed that the disappearance of the pictures had been accidental, but now he wanted to make sure that they were not in the cabin.
Somehow, the lost photographs were associated in his mind with the men who, he imagined, had seen the pictures taken. The man he had seen in the canyon was one of these.
While he hunted in every conceivable and inconceivable place, Alex came in and closed the door behind him. The rabbit stew was simmering on the heater and coffee was bubbling on the electric stove. Alex busied himself about the latter, as if to account for his being there with the door closed, and looked at Clay with wise eyes.
“I know why you want to get away from here right quick,” he said. “I know about the man you saw in the canyon. He was there when I went in after the rabbit, and there was some one with him. Now, who do think it was? Give you three guesses.
“Give it up?” he went on. “Well, it was Mr. Chester W. Granville!”