One thing was already evident. The tracks of the two lawless poachers told that their comrade must have run up against some sort of snag, in his quest for a bee tree; and the secret of his failure to return to camp was not hard to guess.
Teddy seemed to have finally made up his mind, for he approached his friend.
“Well, have you found out what happened?” asked Dolph, eagerly.
“Yes, he’s a prisoner, all right,” the other replied.
“Gabe and Crawley responsible, I take it?” questioned Dolph.
“No other. They shot this deer out of season. Amos happened to see them do it. Because they’re afraid he’ll inform the game warden of this district, or because of some other reason, they concluded to take our chum along with them.”
“But what business have they making any respectable person a prisoner? Why, those men would rob a trapper’s cache of his pelts—they’d steal the pennies from a dead man’s eyes. They’ve got some sort of a game up their sleeve, I guess and you’re on to it, Teddy; I can see it in your face.”
“Yes, I think I can see through a millstone that’s got a hole in it,” replied the lumberman’s son and heir, grimly. “It’s a risky one too all right. I knew Hackett was getting down grade pretty fast but I never thought he’d be so desperate as to try and kidnap a fellow, to hold him for ransom. He must be pretty near the end of his rope.”
Dolph laughed, as though amused.