Ruth Fielding on the St. Lawrence Part 24

"That boat has been here more than once," he whispered.

Ruth breathed "Yes," but said no more.

Up-stream of the cove was a great ma.s.s of rock--not one rock, but several huddled together and the cracks between overgrown with brush and vines.

Chess brought into use the electric torch again.

He shot the spotlight into the crannies. Was there a path there between two of the big boulders? He drew Ruth's attention to it with a touch on her arm. She saw that some of the bushes were broken--the vines torn away and dead.

"Somebody has been here," she murmured.

"Of course. That is what we came to find," said the young man. "We are on the verge of a discovery, Ruth."

"I hope we are not on the verge of trouble," she returned, in the same low tone.

"Don't have a bit of fear," he told her, in a louder voice.

He was about to mention the loaded pistol in his pocket; then thought better of it. But he went ahead, venturing into the narrow pa.s.sage between the two boulders.

The ray of the torch showed the way. It played on the ground at their feet and upon the rocky sides of the pa.s.sage. Was that an abrupt end to the pa.s.sage ahead of them, or a sharp turn in it? Chess pressed on, Ruth trying to peer over his shoulder, although to do this she had to stand on tiptoe.

"By jove!" uttered the young man in surprise, "I believe it is a cavern.

It's the entrance to a cave."

"Then those voices did come from a cavern. Be careful, Chess--do!"

He had reached the turn in the pa.s.sage. A jutting shelf of rock roofed them over. The young man shut off the lamp and they were in darkness. He thrust forward his head to peer around the corner.

As he did so, without the least warning, something swished through the air and Ruth heard the sound of a dull blow. Chess pitched forward, with a groan of pain, falling to his knees.

Ruth uttered a scream. She did not try to retreat, but seized the young man by the shoulders and dragged him back.

Her brave act saved the young fellow from receiving a second and heavier blow. A club was being wielded in the hands of a powerful man who had met them in the pa.s.sage!

Chess was speechless and apparently in a confused state of mind. The electric torch had fallen from his hand. He seemed struggling to get something out of his jacket pocket, but before he could accomplish this a light flashed up in the tunnel ahead.

The same sing-song, chattering voice they had heard so faintly on the summit of the island broke out close at hand. In the red, flickering light of a burning pine torch the frightened girl saw a man in a broad-brimmed hat and loose, flapping upper garment bending over Chess with a club again raised to strike.

"Don't hurt him! Don't hit him again!" she cried.

Other voices--all speaking in that strange, sing-song tongue--broke out, and Ruth suddenly realized that these enemies that confronted them were Chinese.

In the red light she saw clearly now, under the round, broad-brimmed hat, the yellow face and slanting eyes of the man. Ruth did not understand it--she could not imagine why these Orientals should be here on the island. But she realized fully that the calculations of Copley and herself had gone astray. They were in peril--serious peril.

The leading Chinaman glared into Ruth's frightened face and his thin lips curled back from his yellow teeth in a snarl like that of a rabid dog.

His very look was enough to turn the girl cold. She trembled, still striving to drag the half-senseless Chessleigh back.

The Chinaman uttered a long, jabbering howl, turning his face over his shoulder as though speaking to those who crowded behind him in the pa.s.sage. Ruth might still have escaped, but she would not desert her injured companion.

Suddenly there was a stir in the pa.s.sage and the big Chinaman was thrust aside. Another figure pushed forward--a ragged, bushy-haired figure. It was the King of the Pipes!

"Hus.h.!.+" he commanded in his old way.

He waved the Chinaman back. He seemed to have some authority, for the burly Chinaman obeyed. The old man thrust his face forward and peered with his wild eyes into Ruth's countenance.

"Hus.h.!.+" he whispered. "What did I tell you? I know you, of course. I told you that I could not divide my kingdom with any one. It was quite useless for you to come here again.

"And see what has come of it," he added. "The Pipes have seen you. They know your intentions. They will never in this world stand for a divided kingdom. I shall have to cut off your head. Too bad! Too bad!"

He seized Ruth's wrist. She tried to draw away from him, but he was much more powerful than she had supposed. One quick jerk and she was fairly dragged over the crouching figure of Copley and around the corner of the narrow pa.s.sage.

The head Chinaman darted forward and seized Chess. He likewise was dragged into the place. Amid the chattering of several high, sing-song voices, and only half seeing what was being done because of the flickering torchlight, Ruth knew that she was being hurried into a tunnel of some size that ran back into the island.

It was rocky all about her--on both sides as well as under foot and overhead. It was a natural tunnel, not one made by man. The figures flitting before her were gnomelike. She saw clearly only the old man who led her, holding her tightly by the arm. She knew that the Chinaman was dragging Chess behind them, as though that unfortunate young man was a sack of potatoes.

This outcome of their innocent adventure was entirely different from anything Ruth had dreamed of. If she did not exactly fear the queer old man who called himself the King of the Pipes, she certainly did fear the men who were with him in this cavern.

CHAPTER XXI

IN THE CHINESE DEN

It was several minutes before Ruth could accustom her sight to the uncertain, flickering flame of the torches with which the cavern was illuminated. There was, too, a small fire on a stone hearth and above it a stone and cement chimney that portrayed ingenuity in its building.

The cavern was a natural one, but man had made of it a not impossible habitation. She felt rugs under her feet as she was drawn along by the King of the Pipes, and when her eyes became accustomed to the half-gloom of the place she saw that there were several low tables and a couch or two, the latter likewise covered with rugs.

Not only had some ingenuity been expended in fitting up the cave, but the furnis.h.i.+ngs must have occasioned the expenditure of considerable money.

It was not at all the sort of place that she would have expected the queer old man to occupy on the lonely island.

She was so much interested in Chessleigh's state, however, that she gave small attention to these other things. When she could break away from the King of the Pipes she flung herself down upon her knees beside the rec.u.mbent young man and raised his head in her arms.

Chess had received a hard blow from the Chinaman's club. And he had not uttered a word. The latter fact caused Ruth more alarm than anything else. She feared that he was very badly injured, although he was not insensible.

But there was no blood on his head and face. She pa.s.sed her hand swiftly over his crown and found an unmistakable lump there, a lump raised by the blow. But, looking more closely into his half open eyes she saw more intelligence in their expression than she expected.

Indeed, as she peered closely at him she distinctly saw him wink his left eye, and this act, with the bright look in his eyes, warned her that Copley was playing possum.

Having been felled by the blow, and feeling himself out-matched by the Chinamen who had come jabbering to the scene, Chess had displayed much more helplessness than he need have shown. But Ruth decided that he was very wise to do this, and she was much relieved to discover this to be the fact. She did nothing to attract the attention of their captors to his real condition. She moaned over him, and made little pitying sounds as though she thought he had been very seriously hurt by the blow he had received.

The King of the Pipes put his clawlike hand upon her shoulder again.

"Let him alone. He will have to have his head off, of course. No hope for it. But I will try to postpone your decapitation until the thirty-first day of June, which comes when there are two Sundays in the same week. Eh?

Isn't that shrewd? As King of the Pipes I have to show great astuteness.

Oh, great astuteness!"

"I am sure you will help us, sire," murmured Ruth, standing up once more and looking appealingly at the queer old man.