BIRDS OF A FEATHER.
When Eli Perkins left the camp on that memorable afternoon with Cuthbert's fine rifle on his shoulder, he did have a card up his sleeve, so to speak.
Not that Eli was not intent on securing game for the pot, and meant to keep an eye out for anything in the shape of a deer that he could bag; for he had long desired to shoot that dandy gun, the envy of his soul, and as yet the opportunity to use it on a gallant stag had not been forthcoming, though he had often carried it forth when the time seemed propitious.
But Eli had been looking around ever since they landed, and it was his settled conviction that the country in that section had all the color of a copper region.
Copper was Eli's little god.
He eternally dreamed of some day finding a ledge of such incredible richness as would make all previous discoveries sink into utter insignificance; and from his delightful share of the profits from the mine he meant to satisfy that yearning for seeing foreign lands; for long had he looked forward to the time to come when he could visit Egypt, Turkey, Russia, Germany and all those countries he had read so much about.
His only prospect of ever getting there, in his mind, lay in this discovery of copper, and copper haunted him day and night.
Cuthbert knew all about his yearning, and in his own mind had long since arranged it so that Eli would share his next trip abroad; but the other knew not what luck was awaiting him and so he kept thinking of this happy find, and his eyes were constantly on the watch for "signs."
And now more than ever before he was convinced that he must be in a country where there was undiscovered copper veins.
That no one has as yet stumbled upon them did not strike the lad as strange, for he knew that those who stalked through this wilderness were, for the most part, ignorant trappers or Indians, who would not know the value of a find if they fell over the richest outcropping ever found.
Eli had studied up the subject in his leisure hours for some years past, and was fully posted on all that pertained to its various branches.
So while he was walking ahead and looking with one eye for big game his other optic was on the alert for any signs of an outcropping of the rich metal that had been given the place of honor in his heart.
This accounted in some measure for his eccentric advance; for many times he turned aside to bend low over some suspicious spot where his keen eye had detected symptoms of a deposit.
Although disappointment came again and again Eli never despaired, for he was certain he would sooner or later come upon that which he meant to have, and the delay, while aggravating, could not crush his spirits.
Twice later on he found reason to believe he was getting nearer the object of his ambition, for the signs were certainly growing stronger; and thus he was being lured further and further away from the camp.
Then came the moment when he sighted the deer through the bushes, and all his hunter instinct was aroused by the sight.
He began to creep forward, his finger upon the trigger of the gun, and a sense of delicious uncertainty thrilling his nerves.
Just as the observant Owen later on declared, he did get down on one knee several times, intending to shoot; but finding that the deer had not shown any indication of alarm, he had concluded to advance a bit further, in order to make doubly certain.
Eli knew that he was sure of that buck, for he had perfect faith in his own abilities as a marksman, when within such short range; and as for the quality of Cuthbert's pet rifle, that went unquestioned.
Finally he took a quick aim and fired.
It had been the report of his gun that floated away back to the camp, and was heard by his two comrades about half an hour before dark.
Eli deliberately pumped another cartridge into the chamber with one speedy movement of his hand, as he had done many times in practice, and then ran forward to where he had last seen the deer.
He knew full well that it had gone down in a heap, for he had seen as much while he was in that instant placing the rifle in condition for further work; and hence he was not in the least surprised to find the noble animal kicking its last when he arrived upon the spot.
Eli was not an enthusiastic hunter; indeed, as a usual thing, he had been pretty well satisfied to let Cuthbert do most of the shooting and fishing of the trip; but when it came to disposing of the cooked product while they sat around the camp fire, he was right in the game, for Eli's one weakness was his appetite, and he never seemed to have enough.
He placed the rifle against a neighboring tree, and, drawing his hunting knife, proceeded first of all to bleed the deer, after which he started to work cutting it up, for it was too heavy by long odds to think of trying to carry the whole carcass to camp, now more than a mile distant.
So busily engaged was he in this work that he paid not attention to what was taking place around him, and consequently did not see the shadowy figure that came flitting from tree to tree like a wraith of the great pinelands, finally reaching the oak against which Eli had leaned his gun.
Then a gnarled hand was stretched out and eagerly seized upon the beautiful little Marlin, which was quickly withdrawn from view.
Just then Eli was startled to hear a gruff "Ahem" from a point in front of him, and glancing up hurriedly from his work he discovered a man standing leaning on a long-barreled rifle and surveying him with a sneer on his face.
It was the same fellow who had bunked with them and drank their elegant Java with such gusto—Stackpole, the timber-cruiser.
Eli had not liked his looks when he was in camp, and he certainly saw no reason to change his mind concerning the fellow now, for Stackpole did have a piratical appearance when he scowled or looked scornful.
Instinct compelled Eli to reach out his hand for his gun, even while not removing his eyes from the interloper with the evil cast of features.
When his groping hand failed to connect with the rifle he was compelled to turn his head quickly and saw, to his dismay, that the gun no longer occupied the spot where he had placed it.
At the same moment a second man stepped into view, having his own rifle hung over his shoulder with a strap, while the repeater belonging to Cuthbert was resting in his grimy hands.
Eli recognized this worthy immediately, nor was he very much surprised to see him there, since Owen had declared it to be his belief that they might run across him sooner or later.
He remembered how they had met him some weeks earlier, and also how he had made up that chart for Cuthbert, for a consideration, which since that time had proven so very unreliable, and which the Canadian lad pronounced utterly worthless.
It was Dubois, the greasy woods-ranger, fit comrade for the ungainly and grinning Stackpole.
He stood there looking at the boy and nodding his head.
"Well, well, if it ain't Eli Perkins alive and in ther flesh! Who'd ever a thort tew see yer up hyer? I allowed thet p'raps yer boys mighter come part way, but it does beat all how some fools air taken keer ov. Thank yer kindly fur this yer purty little gun, Eli. Reckon I kin soon git ther hang o' the way ye work thet pump bizness. Anyhow, I'm willin' ter larn. Hold on, now, jest keep yer distance, er somethin' not down on ther bill'll happen ter ye, boy!" was the way Dubois addressed him.
Of course, Eli felt angry, but he saw that they had him trapped neatly enough, and he was not the fool the other would try to make out.
At least he had had considerable experience with just such fellows as these and knew how far one could go in conducting negotiations with their breed.
Eli had a streak of caution and also a bit of cunning in his make-up; doubtless he had found need of both in his dealings with the huskies to be met with in the Michigan lumber camps, where brute strength counts for more than education.
It evidently behooved him to play "lame duck," just as the mother mallard does in order to deceive the wandering egg hunter, and lead him away from her nest.
So Eli simply chose to look foolish, and stood there grinning and saying not a word.
He was a good hand at playing the game of "wait," and perhaps in time his chance would come to knock up their hand, and call the deal.
"I see yer hev cut up ther deer all hunky-dory, Eli. Now, sence we old fellers is a bit troubled with rheumertism s'pose ye shoulder ther bag o'game an' come erlong wid us. My ole friend Dubois hes got er shack not werry far off, an' we kin hold our hungry feelin's in till we git thar. Up she goes, boy, an' don't yer dare ter scowl at me like thet again, less ye wanter feel ther toe o' my moccasin. Wy, I've sliced a feller's ears orf fur less'n thet. I'm a holy terror wen I'm riled up, ain't I, Dubois?" said Stackpole.
And this was the man whom they had entertained at their camp and given the best meal of his whole life!
Eli made a note of the fact for future reference.
There would perhaps come a day of reckoning, and the account, however long, could be adjusted.
He took up the pack of meat and followed Stackpole, while Dubois walked along a little distance behind.
Perhaps it was accidental, this meeting with the two woodsmen, but Eli doubted it, preferring to believe that they had been watching him ever since he left the camp, with the idea of effecting his capture should the opportunity arise.
With such men this was not a difficult thing to do.
What puzzled him, however, was the trouble they were taking on his account.
If it was simply that coveted gun they wanted, why not turn him adrift after securing possession of the firearm, rather than make a prisoner of him; surely they could not be doing this for the mere sake of compelling him to "tote" the venison to their camp, for that would be slipping up on a point, since he must know where they held out and could carry the information to Cuthbert when released.
Now had it been the young Virginian who was captured, he could readily understand their reason, for Cuthbert had money in abundance, and would pay a round sum to be set at liberty; but who under the sun cared whether he, Eli Perkins, lumber-jack from the Michigan pine woods, were free or a prisoner, living or dead?
And poor Eli was wrestling with these puzzling questions as he trudged wearily after Stackpole; nor did he seem to get any nearer a solution, though approaching the matter from all sides.
Darkness overtook them while they were still tramping through the woods, having covered some miles since leaving the spot where the deer was shot.
And then by degrees Eli began to guess what they had in view in holding him.
It would be only natural for the two worthies to try and hide their trail when thus passing through the woods and bound for the place where according to Stackpole the other had some sort of a dugout or shack.
To the surprise of Eli not only did they fail to take any precautions in this respect but on the contrary actually seemed to leave as plain a trail as possible.
It took Eli some time to understand the meaning of this, and then it broke upon him like a thunderclap—these fellows were laying a trap, and expected Cuthbert to walk into the same just as the fly enters the web of the spider.
Of course in due time Cuthbert and Owen would feel it necessary to look him up, and as the latter was a good trailer they would follow the course now being taken by himself and his captors, follow it until the door of the trap was sprung shut, making them also prisoners.
Eli grunted his disgust when he saw all this spread out before him.
Eli was so utterly helpless to prevent it.
And while he walked he was busying his mind in the endeavor to invent some clever scheme whereby he might get the better of the twin rascals and turn the tables upon them.
But Eli did not possess a very brilliant mind and suggestions came slowly to him; all his life he had been in the habit of allowing some one else do his thinking for him, and when thrown upon his own resources he found it difficult to fully grasp the situation and conjure up any possible remedy.
At the same time he was stubborn by temperament and not given over to despair, no matter how black the circumstances seemed.
Perhaps presently things might take a turn; all he wanted was to keep his eyes about him, and his wits sharpened, so that if the occasion arose he would be in shape to reap the benefit.
Stackpole must have been joking when he said the shack was close by, or else they had purposely made a circuit in their walk, for it was a full hour before they arrived at their destination.
Whoever had originally built the cabin in the wild section where the rocks cropped up amid the stunted trees, it had evidently been abandoned many years, until of late Dubois took possession of the same.
A light through what seemed to be a window without glass was the first indication they had that they were approaching the end of the trail; Eli showed some sign of interest when he saw this, for it meant that there might be another member of the party, and his curiosity was excited.
Could it be possible that there was a regular league of these lawless rovers of the great timber belt, organized to prey upon their fellows, and eager to milk such prizes as Cuthbert Reynolds would prove to be, if once he fell into their clutches?
If so, this could hardly be their headquarters, for it was too near the Hudson Bay post; and from what he had heard about the stern old factor, he would never allow such an organization to get a footing within his territory—if he was a martinet and a stickler for fealty to the company, he was also an honest man, with a hatred for rascality that made him the terror of evil doers.
Stackpole brushed open the door and strode within.
"Follow yer leader, kid," ordered the man in the rear, and accordingly Eli passed over the threshold.
Once within, the boy was ordered to prepare supper, and knowing the folly of resistance he obeyed.
All the time he was on the watch for a chance to do something that would render the guns of the timber cruisers useless. They were both old style rifles of the breech-loading type, and given a chance Eli knew how to fix them so that it would require the assistance of a gunsmith to place them in serviceable condition again.
Once Dubois went out and called to Stackpole, evidently desirous of conferring with his partner over something he did not wish the boy to overhear.
Eli saw his chance, and though his heart seemed to be in his mouth, he carried out his hastily formed plan.
Stackpole had taken the repeating rifle with him, as if not fully trusting the prisoner. But Eli could wait. Besides, he was hungry, and that was his venison, so he felt entitled to some of it.
While they ate the two men occasionally joked the boy in their rough way. But Eli only grinned, knowing that his time had almost come.
"Now git a hustle on and clar up the muss, younker!" said Stackpole, as he lighted his pipe.
Eli coolly snatched up the little Marlin repeater. He heard the angry cries of the men as they reached for their own guns.
Then Eli laughed.
"The joke is on you, Stackpole. Couldn't shoot them guns in a week, for I doctored 'em all right. Stand back now or take the consequences, you!"
They were cowed by the sudden and complete change. Neither of them dared move a hand even when Eli opened the door of the cabin, having slung some of the venison across his shoulder.
"Next time, gents, don't leave a timber boy alone in a cabin with your guns," he remarked, and waving his hand mockingly he closed the door.
Five minutes later one of the men ventured to open the door, when a gun sounded, and the bullet struck so close to him he slammed the barrier shut again.
Then Eli hurried off, having taken his bearings. Half an hour later he discovered the glow of the little headlight torch, and to the delight of his chums hailed them.
Although Cuthbert and Owen were indignant at the action of the timber cruisers, they thought best to let the incident pass. No doubt the men would leave the country now, since they must fear lest their unlawful act get to the ears of the old factor and cause them trouble.
So our three boys returned to the camp and spent the remainder of the night in peace.