The Ranger Boys and the Border Smugglers Part 9
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Then walking over to where d.i.c.k lay still soundly sleeping, he stirred him with his foot, shouting:
"Get up, lazybones, and make a mess of flapjacks for breakfast," for it was admitted by the boys that d.i.c.k was the best cook of the three.
d.i.c.k rolled out of his blanket with a protesting murmur, and then ran to the brook below the spring, where he dashed the cold water into his face until the sleep fog had rolled away. On his way back he glanced at the spot where the animal's body had been hung the night before. Not seeing it, he turned to Garry and asked what he had done with the wildcat.
"What wildcat?" asked Garry in amazement, while Phil looked at d.i.c.k with a blank face.
"Why, the bobcat or wildcat or civetcat, or whatever it was, that you shot last night."
Garry turned and shook his head sadly at Phil.
"Poor chap, the strain of the last few days has been too much for him, or else he is eating too much again before he goes to bed. He eats too much anyway, that's why he has such awful dreams."
"Dream nothing," shouted d.i.c.k, half angry, half puzzled. "Do you mean to stand there and tell me that you didn't turn the camp upside down last night by shooting some sort of an animal?"
"Absolutely," declared Garry firmly.
"That must have been some dream that you had last night," chimed in Phil, carrying out the joke.
d.i.c.k stared at his two companions, but seeing their sober faces, muttered something to himself and set about fixing the flapjacks. By this time he was firmly convinced that he had dreamed the whole occurrence, and on being pressed by the boys, told his "dream," relating exactly the circ.u.mstances of the adventure of the night before.
Although it nearly killed them to do it, the others maintained a straight face and listened with interest. Breakfast over, d.i.c.k was wandering around the camp when he discovered the beans he had set to soak when he was roused by the shot that killed the nocturnal visitor.
Immediately he remembered that he had forgotten to do this before retiring, hence he must have done it when he got up.
Without saying anything to his companions, he quietly prowled about the camp, until he came on the body of the bobcat where Garry had hidden it. Instantly the light broke, and he made a dash for Garry, knocking him over and getting astride of him. Then d.i.c.k proceeded to tickle his ribs vigorously.
"Try to string me, will you? Holler nuff and say you're sorry you made fun of an innocent, trusting person like myself. Holler nuff."
"Hey, Phil, pull this wildman off me," gasped Garry between gasps of laughter, both at the tickling and at the recollection of the joke that had been played on the fat boy.
But Phil was rolling on the ground laughing until the tears ran down his cheeks. Both he and Garry had held in as long as it was possible, and now they were making up for lost time.
d.i.c.k at last tired of pummeling Garry, and soon he joined in the laughter, for the joke was undeniably on him.
While they were laughing, along came Dud the gum hunter, bearing a chicken with him.
"Here, boys, thought you might like a bit of chicken, and that'll help make up for the bacon and flour of yours that I used yesterday."
The boys thanked him heartily, and then Garry asked if he knew anyone in that region that could stuff a bobcat, explaining how he had shot one the night before. Dud asked to see the animal, and then exclaimed, his eyes popping:
"Bobcat? Why, boy alive. That's the biggest, finest specimen of Canada Lynx I have even seen. It's one of the most savage animals to be found in the whole North Woods!"
CHAPTER X.
A SIGNAL OF DISTRESS.
"A Canada lynx!" e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed Garry. "Why, I thought they were to be found only in the wilds of Northern Canada."
"That's what a good many people think, but they can be found almost anywhere in the northern tier of this country. A friend of mine a couple of years ago shot one on the banks of Lake Champlain barely a mile outside the city of Plattsburg. I don't ever recollect seeing one as fine or as big as that one of yours. If you'd like, I'll stuff it and mount it for you."
"That is more than I dared hope," said Garry. "I didn't know whether I could find a taxidermist up here or not."
"You'll find that a good many old woodsmen are pretty skillful at it, especially those who hire out as guides in the deer season," replied Dud. "I mounted a fine deer head for a hunter from New York last year, and he said it was a better job than was done by one of the high-priced animal men in that city. But there's something else I want to tell you.
I can't say much, but there is a pernicious lot of activity lately among a certain cla.s.s of fellows who find a lot of business over the border every now and then. Now mind ye, I ain't saying anything, but I've seen and heard a couple of things since last night. Also, the 'lane' that is used by these fellows isn't a million miles from here, and a nod is as good as a wink to a blind mare. Remember I ain't said nothing at all."
Leaving the boys to ponder over his remarks, the gum hunter threw his bag across his shoulder and departed on his quest of spruce gum.
"Now I wonder why he is so secretive about this business. Evidently he knows all about it, so why shouldn't he come right out and tell what he knows. It's a puzzle," said Garry reflectively.
"Don't you suppose he is that way because he lives here and knows all these people and does not want to become involved in any way, fearing that they might seek revenge on him for giving away their secrets?
Perhaps he even has some misguided relative or friend who is mixed up in the mess some way," suggested Phil.
"I believe that is the only solution, Phil. At any rate, it behooves us to be on the move and see what we can find out. He said something about the smugglers' 'lane' being around here. I suppose that he means the trail over which the stuff is brought. I suggest that the business of the morning be to locate it if possible. Let's head toward the boundary stone, and strike up along what is approximately the border from there and see if we can discover anything in the way of a trail. First, however, I suggest that we take all our food supplies and cache them safely in a tree somewhere in this vicinity. Not so much for fear that they will be stolen, but because I don't want the fact advertised of our being here in case someone should come along in our absence. If we are here, then all right, if we are not, these lean-tos look to be only temporary, and no one would give them a second thought. I've also thought it would be a good plan to search out one or two other likely camp-sites and establish camps there. Then we can go from one to another and not advertise our presence so blatantly. So on our march today, keep an eye for a good spring. Now let's go and cache the stuff."
First Garry measured out a two-day ration of food, dividing it among the three. The rest was then packed in a cloth flour bag that Garry had procured at the general store, showing that he had had this idea in the back of his head since they had arrived at the border. Some little distance away, a thick pine tree was located and careful observation was made so that the boys could find it easily.
Phil climbed the tree and then let down his lariat and Garry tied the bag to the end. Phil then drew it up into the tree and placed it securely in a crotch in one of the branches. This done, Phil clambered back down, remarking when he reached the ground:
"If we get a good storm it's goodbye to the sugar and flour in that bag.
The stuff will just naturally melt away. If we are going to make a practice of caching the stuff, I suggest that we provide a number of tin cans with tight covers. Then it can rain on the articles for days and never hurt them a bit."
"That's a prime idea, Phil, and next time we go to town, you are delegated to provide said tins," said Garry.
"Ha, that's the time I talked myself into extra work," rejoined Phil with a laugh.
"Believe me, young man, I'll take a lesson from that and make only suggestions that won't entail extra work," chipped in d.i.c.k.
"On our way now, but first d.i.c.k, you run back to the camp and empty your canteen on the fire, and obliterate all traces of it. Then fill your canteen and rejoin us here, and we'll be off for the boundary monument,"
ordered Garry, thus proving himself to be a real woodsman and Ranger, never forgetting that a stray spark or ember may smoulder for some little time and perhaps start a fire that would sweep through the forests as though they were so much tinder.
d.i.c.k sped away to do Garry's bidding, and in a few moments was back, and the three chums started for the boundary line. This time they were able to proceed directly to it, without wasting precious time hunting for it.
Arriving at the marker, they branched out fanshaped as was their wont when they were in search of a trail or water. For some three or four miles they found nothing in the way of a well-defined trail, or even the remains of a camp, and were beginning to think the whole affair was nothing more nor less than a wild goose chase, when they were called together by a hail from d.i.c.k.
They ran speedily to him, and found him gazing at the ground.
"I don't know that what I've found amounts to a continental, but this is an old abandoned tote road, and I've found the marks of three or four different style boots, or rather, different sized boots. To my mind, it is worth following up, as there hasn't been anything yet worth while investigating except this. I wonder if our friend Dud isn't just giving us a wrong steer, or is this what he meant we should find? What say, Garry, what shall we do?"
Garry decided immediately.
"We'll follow this for a bit and see where it leads us. It may amount to nothing at all, and then again it may lead us to a real clue."
They set off down the old tote road, and after a walk of nearly an hour came upon several shacks, all boarded up, and bearing an air of desolation and abandonment.
"By golly, this is a deserted lumber camp. You remember the storekeeper told us there used to be logging operations in this vicinity? This must have been the scene of the camp, although they had quite a haul to reach the river for the drive. Let's take a look-see and find out what's here," cried Phil.
The Ranger Boys and the Border Smugglers Part 9
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The Ranger Boys and the Border Smugglers Part 9 summary
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