“Let’s hear it. Your guesses have been pretty good so far this trip.”
“Well, I figure it something like this. You know most of the half-breeds up here and the French too for that matter are very superstitious. They are full of stories of ghosts and haunts and the like. Now isn’t it possible that this thing was made and used in some way to work up a superstitious scare regarding them and so make it easier for them to operate?” The Captain did not reply for a minute or two.
“I think you’re right,” he said finally. “It’s a good guess at any rate, and for the life of me I can’t think of a better. But let’s get back and I’ll see if I can get anything out of any of them.”
“So you thought you’d work up a ghost scare with that canvas cabin, eh?” he asked the little man.
The latter made no reply, but Bob caught a glance which he gave Pierre and was more than ever convinced that he had made a good guess.
As soon as the other officers had examined the cabin the Captain ordered that it be taken down and packed up.
“We’ll take it with us,” he said, “It will make a good souvenir at least.”
As he had told Bob it took but a few minutes to take the thing down even by those who were not used to it and when it was rolled up it made a surprisingly small package considering its size when set up.
They reached the place where they left the cars late that afternoon and shortly after nine o’clock they drew up before the station house in Bangor and turned the prisoners over to the Chief of Police.
“Be mighty careful of that fellow,” the Captain cautioned, pointing to the little man. “He’s one of the most wanted men in the country and as slippery as an eel. Don’t let him get away.”