Barrows also had sprung into action. Rummaging around under the pine table that served as a desk, he brought forth a length of rope, and soon Boone was tightly bound.
“Carry him over to the storehouse. Don’t put him in the cellar. This makes things better. We can keep him prisoner for several days and clean up. Lively now,” ordered Barrows.
“Moose” Boone was carried to the storehouse and unceremoniously dumped. He lay on the floor thinking how foolish he had been to come alone to a camp where he knew there was treachery afoot, but now it was too late to cry over spilled milk. He wondered where the boys were, since he had seen no sign of them about the camp.
His reason for coming was the note that Garry had sent him, and which the hermit had succeeded in having posted.
He twisted around several times in an effort to relieve the pain in his arms and feet from lying tied on the hard floor.
Nearly two hours passed, and then the door was softly unlocked and opened. In stepped the cook. Mr. Boone wondered what was to happen now, and he received the surprise of his life when the cook fished out his knife and proceeded to cut the bonds that bound him.
“Have you come to the conclusion that this was a fool thing to do? I am thankful, of course, and will see that you are let go when the rest of this gang is rounded up,” said Boone.
The cook did not speak until he had cut the bonds.
“First, Mr. Boone, I’ll tell you something and then I’ll show you someone. I don’t suppose you will remember a cold spring day nearly twenty-five years ago on the Umculcos, when you risked your own life to save a lumberjack that was trying to ride a log and fell into the river with the logs crushing down about him?”
Boone’s mind travelled swiftly back to the day, although he had not given it a thought for years.