CHAPTER XXIV—TIT FOR TAT
Ten minutes later the two chums entered the forest and crept toward the light. That it was a campfire neither doubted; there could be no question about that.
“What you going to do with these lariats?” Dig whispered, for Chet had insisted that each carry the rope which hung at his cantle.
“Never mind! hush!” urged Chet, with more vigour than politeness.
There might be very good reason for a silent approach to the camp. Whether it was the camp of the thieves who had troubled them the previous night or not, the campers might be men whom the boys would not care to meet.
“We’ll spy on them first,” Chet had declared, and now they proceeded to carry out his intention.
The timber was big and open. It was really fair grazing ground, for there were few shrubs. Before they had penetrated far into the wood the boys descried two ponies feeding. The animals gave them no attention, so, plainly, they were used to white men. Indian ponies would have snorted and stamped at the approach of any white visitors.
The campfire blazed brightly; but there was no smell of cooking. It was evident that the campers had finished supper. Chet led the way around to the windward and they got the smell of tobacco smoke quite strongly.
“They’re sitting there smoking; but they are not talking much,” whispered Chet. “We know there are at least two, for both those horses are saddle horses. I bet they are the fellows we are after.”
“Whew! What’ll we do now we’ve found them, Chet?” whispered his chum, in return.
“Get nearer and make sure. Then we’ll see,” said Chet, with confidence.
“I hope we’ll see,” muttered Dig, “but it’s blamed dark.”
They both remembered their training under old Rafe, however. The hunter had taught them how to move quietly in the night, and through thickets far more dense than this. Soon the two chums, side by side, were in view of the tiny clearing where the fire burned.
Their suspicions were correct on the first count, at least. There were two men at the fire.
One was lying on his back with a blanket wrapped around him, while his big, black hat was tipped over his face. Dig pinched Chet sharply, and when his chum turned to scowl at him, the excited lad mouthed the words:
“My blanket!”
Chet nodded. He recognised the stolen covering. There could be no doubt but these two men were the ones who had robbed them. Besides there were the coffee-pot and some of their cooking utensils on a log near the fire.
Dig’s eyes snapped and he doubled his fist and shook it at the prostrate man, who was evidently asleep.
It was just then that Chet touched his chum’s arm and pointed to the second figure by the campfire. This man was sitting, with his back against a log and his knees drawn up. He was the one who smoked, and it was both a vile pipe and strong tobacco he was sucking on.
Dig nodded vigorously when he made out the features of this man in the shadow. “It’s Tony,” he breathed in Chet’s ear. “But who’s he?” and he pointed to the sleeping man.
Chet shook his head over that question. Somehow that broad-brimmed, black hat looked familiar; but Chet could not place it just then. Besides, he was too anxious regarding what they should do with these two rascals.
Chet had refused to let Dig bring his rifle; but both boys carried their ropes. He saw that Tony Traddles cuddled a rifle in the hollow of his arm; it had slipped down until it lay in such a position that the man would have hard work to grab it up quickly. As for the sleeping rascal, Chet could not see that he was armed at all.
The boys both had their revolvers, but at the start Chet had forbidden Dig to flourish his pistol.
“Somebody might get hurt. They’ve stolen from us, but they did not try to injure us. And how we should feel if we managed to seriously hurt one of them!”
Of course, in a sober moment, Dig would have agreed to this; but at the time he grumbled some.
“They didn’t hurt us? Huh! look at my forehead. If it hadn’t been for them, I wouldn’t have a headache.”
He was in full accord with his chum, however, agreeing that Chet should take the lead. Tony Traddles, the bewhiskered, ragged tramp, was really nodding as he pretended to keep watch before the brightly burning fire. He pulled at his pipe slowly; his effort to draw the smoke into his mouth was almost mechanical.
Dig was the better of the two chums with the rope, as well as with horses. Chet signalled him to watch the sleeping man so that when he roused and sat up Dig could noose him before he had a chance to seize a weapon. For his own part, Chet stepped away a few paces and made ready his lariat.
There were no trees or shrubs in the way. Tony’s eyes were too full of sleep to see him. Besides, both boys were behind the log and Tony would have had to turn his head to catch a glimpse of them.
Dig was getting nervous when he saw his chum taking so much time for his preparations. Suppose Tony aroused suddenly—or the other man?
But Chet was not going to miss his man by any over-eagerness. He made sure the coil of the rope ran free and that the noose was open. Then he threw the lariat and it dropped just where he wanted it to—over the head and shoulders of the gorilla-like rascal.
“Help!” grunted Tony, who had been quite asleep, feeling the tightening of the noose about his arms.
His partner sprang almost instantly into a sitting posture, and his hand went to a six-shooter that he had bolstered at his hip. But Dig was ready. He uttered a yell of derision and dropped his noose over the villain, whipping it so tight at the first pull that the man uttered a cry of pain.
“Got him!” cried Dig.
Chet had been just as quick as his chum. When he pulled the line taut he sprang over the log and landed right on the back of Tony Traddles, knocking the big fellow forward on his face.
The boy fastened the rope with a good knot and left Tony thrashing about and sputtering, while he ran to see that Dig and his prisoner were all right. The man with the black sombrero could not get at his gun, and struggle as he did he could not loosen the rope. Soon the boys had wound the slack of the lariat around him, from elbows to heels, and laid him out like an “Indian papoose,” as Dig said, chuckling.
Then the chums went to Tony and, in spite of his kicking, and ignoring his threats, they triced him up as carefully and securely as they had his comrade in crime.
“I know who that other man is now,” said Chet. “Don’t you recognise him, Dig?”
“No. My acquaintance doesn’t run among such fellows as he,” answered Dig. “The mean thief! That’s my blanket he was sleeping in. I’ll take it and hang it over a bush to air.”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” said Chet, smiling. “He’s the fellow who was hanging around our house. Don’t you remember that when I shot that hawk, he was there? And he is the same fellow who, the day of the cave-in at the mine, was up in the mountain with Amoshee.”
“With John Peep?”
“Yes. I know he is interested in the Crayton claim, and he’s stolen those deeds from me. I’m going to get them back,” and Chet approached the man with determination.
“You keep away from me, you young snipe!” growled the man. “When I get out o’ this I’ll make you sweat.”
“You’re going to perspire yourself, mister, I should think,” said Dig, giggling. “We have you right. You stole from us—”
“Nothing of the kind!” blustered the fellow. “We never saw you before.”
“I think we recognise that blanket and those pots and pans,” said Chet gravely. “You needn’t tell stories about it. You robbed us and now we’re going to take our things back.”
“We ought to drive them along to Grub Stake, too,” suggested Dig, “and turn them over to the police.”
“You young smart Alecks will get your comeuppance,” muttered the man. “You let me loose or it will be the worse for you.”
“How about me?” bawled Tony. “I’ll break ’em in two if I git my hands on ’em. That boy of old Havens’ ’specially.”
Chet meanwhile had approached the black-hatted man, and now he began to search his pockets. The man used frightful threats to check him; but Chet was not to be stopped.
“You might as well save your breath to cool your porridge,” quoth Dig, grinning. “My chum is going to get back those deeds, and don’t you forget it!”
“What deeds?” snarled the man. “You’re trying to rob me. Better let my wallet alone.”
But there was nothing in the nature of deeds about the fellow, although Chet examined his clothes carefully. The boy’s hopes sank very low as he proceeded with the search.
The man snarled at him and threatened, but Chet thought that he seemed disturbed himself over the result of the investigation. Chet went toward Tony and that scoundrel cried:
“You won’t get nothin’ off ’n me, young Havens. Sue a beggar and get his rags—that’s all. Don’t know nothin’ about no deeds. Go away!”
But Chet insisted on searching him, and Dig helped. Then, when they had come to a resultless finish, the two boys stood up and looked at each other.
They had found and made prisoners the men who they knew had robbed them; but the main object to be attained—the recovery of the precious papers Chet was carrying to Grub Stake—seemed just as far off as ever. Neither of the captives was in possession of the deeds.