In a little while he had coffee, bacon and spider bread cooking in the crude fireplace. A great log had been thrown on that morning, he found, and it was this that burned and smouldered through the day, making the smoke that guided him to his destination.
Simmons kept watch while Garry prepared the supper, and then Garry took his turn at watching while the others ate. In turn he was relieved by Simmons and made his own supper.
The meal over, they gathered at the mouth of the ravine, and discussed the situation. First Garry asked for an account of what had happened.
Simmons told his story.
“As I told you, my name is Simmons, and I’m a postal inspector. I was detailed from Washington several days ago to go to Hobart to investigate alleged irregularities in the mail there, and reached the town by nightfall. I got my supper at a restaurant there, kept by a French chap, and was taking a walk around just to get the lay of the land.
“I walked out of the town just a ways, and next thing I knew, I was set on by three men, and though I fought as best I could, I was overpowered. They hustled me to a farm not very far from the town, and kept me there for a couple of days. Then one night I was bundled into an automobile and carried some miles.
“When the auto left me, my captor made me march at the point of a gun to the bank of a river. My hands were tied behind me, and I could make no break for liberty. It was night, and there was never a person to be seen. The chap who was leading me, a big, burly, black-haired Frenchman, tripped me up when I got to the river bank and proceeded to tie my feet and gag me. Then he disappeared and came back after a while, and picked me up as though I were a child—I’m not a very hefty person anyway—and carried me to a canoe on the water’s edge.
“He paddled over the river. I’m going to call this chap LeBlanc. Isn’t that what you said his name was, Miss? The same one that brought you was the one that guided me here.”
“Yes, that was LeBlanc,” said Ruth.
“Well, to make a long story short, I was brought here and kept tied hand and foot. There was an old Indian man and woman here, and they guarded me. When they fed me, one hand would be untied, and the old man kept me covered with a rifle. I’ve worn my wrists raw trying to work out of my bonds, but never with any success.