ALARIC AND BONNY AGAIN TAKE TO FLIGHT
For a full month had our hump-durgin boys occupied the little cedar-built shack, which now seemed to them so much a home that it was difficult to realize they had ever known any other. By this time, too, they were exercising a very decided influence upon the character of the camp into whose life they had been so unexpectedly thrown. Light-hearted Bonny, with his cheery face and abounding good-nature, was as full of amusing pranks as a young colt, and from every group that he joined shouts of merriment were certain to arise within a few minutes. Thus Bonny was very popular and always in demand. Nor was Alaric less so, for he could tell so much concerning strange foreign countries and relate so many curious Old World tales, that there was rarely an evening that he was not called upon for something of the kind. He so often said that most of his stories could be found in certain books, related a thousand times better than he could tell them, that in the breasts of many of his hearers he aroused a real longing for books, and a wider knowledge than they could ever acquire without them.
At the same time Alaric was not only appreciated for what he knew, but for what he could do. No one in camp could ride a "turn" of logs, swaying, bumping, and sliding down the skid-road, with such perfect confidence and easy grace as he. Only one of them all could outrun him, and none could catch or throw a baseball with the certainty and precision that he exhibited, although ever since Buck Ranlet discovered the ball in his young guest's coat-pocket the camp had practised with it during all odd moments of daylight.
So our lads made friends with and knew the personal history of every occupant of the camp save one, and he was its boss. Since the night on which they had taken tea in his house Mr. Linton had hardly spoken to either of them; nor did he ever join with the men in their evening gatherings to listen to Bonny's jokes or Alaric's tales. At first they noticed this, and wondered what reason he had for avoiding them; but they soon learned that it was only his way, and that he never talked with any of the men except on matters of business. Buck Ranlet said it was because he was a deputy United States marshal, and didn't know when he might be called on to arrest any one of them for some offence against the government.
With all their present popularity the boys were growing weary of the monotonous life they were leading, of their good-natured but rough and narrow-minded associates, and of the deadly sameness of the food served three times a day in the dingy mess-room. They also dreaded the approaching winter, with its days and weeks of rain, during which the work of getting out logs for the insatiable mills down on the Sound must keep on without a moment of interruption. They listened with dismay to tales of loggers who had not known the feeling of dry clothing for weeks at a time; of "turns" of logs rushing down skid-roads slippery with wet, like roaring avalanches of timber, threatening destruction to everything in their course; and of long, dreary winter evenings when the steady downpour forbade camp-fires and prevented all social out-of-door gatherings.
In view of these things, Alaric was determined that the end of another month, or such time as his wages should be paid, should see him on his way to San Francisco and home. He did not anticipate any difficulty in persuading Bonny to go with him, for that young man had already remarked that while hump-durgin riding was fun up to a certain point, he should hate to do it for the remainder of his life. Oh yes, Bonny would go, of course; and Alaric's only fear was that his father might not take a fancy to the lad, or hold the same views regarding his future that he did. Still, that was a matter which would arrange itself somehow, if they could only reach San Francisco, and the "poor rich boy" now began to long as eagerly for the time to come when he might return to his home as he once had for an opportunity to leave it.
One day, when matters stood thus, a stranger, past middle age, shabbily dressed, and wearing a peculiarly dilapidated hat, appeared at the railway log-landing, and asked Bonny, whose hump-durgin happened to be there at the time, permission to ride with him to the end of the skid-road. With a sympathetic glance at the man's forlorn appearance, Bonny answered:
"Certainly, sir; you may ride with me all day if you like, and I shall be glad of your company."
Thanking the lad, the stranger seated himself in the hump-durgin; and after he had been warned to hold on tight and watch out for "slews," the upward journey was begun. At one of the upper relay stations they waited for a descending "turn" of logs to pass them. Here the stranger visited the engine-house, and while he was talking with the engineer they came in sight. Alaric, who happened to be in charge, was at that moment walking easily forward along the backs of the swaying logs, presenting as fine a specimen of youthful agility, strength, and perfect health as one could wish to encounter. He was clad in jean trousers tucked into boot-legs and belted about his waist; a blue flannel shirt, with a black silk kerchief knotted at the throat, and a black slouch hat.
"Isn't that extremely dangerous?" asked the stranger, regarding the approaching lad with a curious interest.
"Not for him it isn't, though it might be for some; but Dick Dale is so level-headed and sure-footed that there isn't his equal for riding logs in this outfit, nor, I don't believe, in any other," answered the engineer.
"What did you say his name was?" asked the stranger, with his gaze still fixed on Alaric.
"Dale—Richard Dale," replied the engineer, who had never happened to hear the boy's real name. "Why? Do you think you know him?"
"No. I don't know any one of that name; but the lad's resemblance to another whom I used to know is certainly very striking."
"Yes. It's funny how often people look alike who have never been within a thousand miles of each other," remarked the engineer, carelessly, as he stepped to the signal-box. In another minute Alaric had passed out of sight, while Bonny and the stranger had resumed their upward journey.
That evening Alaric remarked to his chum, "I noticed you had a passenger to-day."
"Yes," replied Bonny. "Seedy-looking chap, wasn't he; but one of the nicest old fellows I ever met. Never saw any one take such an interest in everything. I suspected what he was after, though, and finally we got so friendly that I asked him right out if he wasn't looking for work."
"Was he?"
"Yes. He hesitated at first, and looked at me to see if I was joking, and then owned up that he was hunting for something to do. I felt mighty sorry for him, 'cause I know how it is myself; but I had to tell him there wasn't a living show in this camp just now. He seemed mightily taken with our shack here, and said he once had a house just like it, in which he passed the happiest time of his life, but he was afraid he'd never have another. I invited him to stay with us a few days if he wanted to—just while he was looking for a job, you know—but he said he guessed he'd better go on to some other camp. You'd been willing, wouldn't you?"
"Certainly," replied Alaric. "I've already been in hard luck enough to be mighty glad of a chance to help any other fellow who's in the same fix, especially an old man; for they don't have half the show that young fellows do."
"I told him you'd feel that way," exclaimed Bonny, triumphantly; "and he said if there were more like us in the world it would be a happier place to live in, but that he guessed he'd manage to scrape along somehow a while longer without becoming a burden to others. I did insist on his taking a hat, though."
"A hat?"
"Yes. We were down at the store, and he was asking the price of things, and looking around so wistful that I couldn't help getting him a new hat and having it charged; for the one he wore wasn't any good at all. He hated to take it, but I insisted, and finally he said he would if I'd keep his old one and let him redeem it some time. Of course I said I would, just to satisfy him, and here it is."
Alaric looked carelessly at the dilapidated hat as he said: "It was a first-class thing to do, Bonny, and I only wish I had been here to give him something at the same time. But, hello! this is a Paris hat, and hasn't been worn very long, either. I wonder how he ever got hold of it? Never mind, though; hang it up for luck, and to remind me to do something for the next poor chap who comes along. By-the-way, I heard to-day that the president of the company was in Tacoma, on his way to make an inspection of all the camps."
"Yes," replied Bonny. "They say he is an awful swell, too, and I heard that he was coming in his private car. I only hope he is, and that I can get a chance to look at it, for I have never seen a private car. Have you?"
"One or two," answered Alaric, with a smile.
At noon of the following day, while a fifteen-minute game of baseball was in progress after dinner, the boss of Camp No. 10 received a note from the president of the company, requesting him to report immediately in person at Tacoma, and bring with him the two hump-durgin boys Dale and Brooks.
Mr. Linton, being a man who kept his own business to himself as much as possible, merely called our lads and bade them follow him. Of course this order broke up the game they were playing, and as they hastened after the boss, Bonny, in whose hands the baseball happened to be, thrust it into one of his pockets. Although curious to know why they were thus summoned, the boys learned nothing from Mr. Linton until they reached the railway log-landing, when he told them that they were wanted in Tacoma, and that he was instructed to bring them there at once.
From the landing they proceeded by hand-car to Cascade Junction, where they boarded a west-bound passenger train over the Northern Pacific. Even now Mr. Linton was not communicative, and after sitting awhile in silence he went forward into the smoking-car, leaving the boys in the passenger coach next behind it. Now they began to discuss their situation, and the more they considered it the more apprehensive they became that something unpleasant was in store for them.
"He's a United States marshal, remember," said Bonny.
"Yes," replied Alaric; "I've been thinking of that. Do you suppose it can have anything to do with that smuggling business?"
"I'm awfully afraid so," replied Bonny. "Great Scott! Look there!"
The train was just leaving Meeker, where a passenger had boarded their car, and was now walking leisurely through it towards the smoker. It was he who had attracted Bonny's attention, and at whom he now pointed a trembling finger.
Alaric instantly recognized the man as an officer of the revenue-cutter that had so persistently chased them in the early summer. Without a word, he left his seat and followed the new-comer to the smoking-car, where a single glance through the open door confirmed his worst suspicions.
The officer had seated himself beside Mr. Linton, and they were talking with great earnestness.
"They are surely after us again," Alaric said, in a whisper, as he regained his seat beside Bonny; "but I don't intend to be captured if I can help it."
"Same here," replied Bonny.
Thus it happened that when, a little later, the train reached Tacoma, and Mr. Linton returned to look for his lads, they were nowhere to be found.