CHAPTER XIII. ROB FINDS A RAY OF HOPE.
The meal, a sort of stew composed apparently of rabbits, partridges andother small game, was despatched and then Rob, who had been released fromhis bonds while he ate, was tied up once more.
"These fellows don't think much of breaking the game laws," he thought ashe ruminated on the contents of the big iron pot from which theirnoon-day meal had been served. Then came another thought. If they soopenly violated the laws, the country was surely a lonely one, andseldom, or never, visited. Indeed, the thick forest of hemlock and otherconiferous trees that fringed the cliff summits, would seem to indicatethat the spot was well chosen.
Jumbo was not confined. The gang seemed to esteem him as more or lessharmless for, although a sharp watch was kept on him, he was notfettered. Once or twice he caught Rob's eye with a knowing look. But hesaid nothing. One or another of the men kept too close and constant awatch for that. And so the hours wore on. Tied as Rob was, the smallblack flies and other winged mountain pests made life almost intolerable.With infinite pains the lad dragged himself to a spot of shade under astunted alder bush. He lay here with something very like despairclutching coldly at his heart. The canoes had been anchored, with bigstones attached to ropes, at some distance out in the little bay. Onlyone remained on shore, and by that Jim Dale kept an unrelaxing vigil.
Jim and Peter were talking in low voices. Rob overheard enough to knowthat their talk was of the old lawless days when the moonshine gang madethe hidden cove their rendezvous.
"Those were the days," Dale said with a regretful sigh, "money was plentythen. By the way, Pete, did you ever hear what became of Black Bart andthe others after the revenues broke us up?"
"No, I never wanted to take a chance of inquiring," rejoined Peter,puffing at a dirty corn cob. "I did hear, though, that they had resumedoperations some place around here."
"They did, eh? I suppose they figgered that lightning don't never striketwice in the same place."
"Just the same, they are taking a long chance. With revenues against youit's all one sided--like the handle of a jug."
"That's so. But there's good money in it, and Black Bart would risk a lotfor that."
The conversation was carried on in low tones. Rob, intent though he was,could not catch any more of it. But he pondered over what he had heard.If what Jim Dale and Peter had said was correct, a gang of moonshinersstill made the mountains thereabouts their habitat.
"It's a strange situation we've stumbled into," thought the boy.
Then he fell to observing Stonington Hunt and his son, Freeman. The manand the boy were talking earnestly at some distance from Peter and JimDale. From their gestures and expressions Rob made out that theconversation was an important one. From the frequent glances which theycast in his direction he also divined that he himself, was, in allprobability, the subject of it.
All at once Stonington Hunt arose and came toward him. Freeman followedhim. They came straight up to Rob and stood over him.
"Well, Rob Blake," sneered young Hunt, "I guess things are different towhat they were the time you drove me out of Hampton and forced my fatherto profess all sorts of reformation."
"I don't know," rejoined Rob coolly and contemptuously, "you seem to meto be very much the same sort of a chap you were then."
The inference, and Rob's unshaken manner, appeared to infuriate theyouth.
"We've got you where we want you now," he snarled, "it would serve youright if I took all the trouble you've caused us out upon your hide. Youand that patrol of yours cost us our social position, then that Hopkinskid lost our sloop for us----"
"The sloop in which you meant to decamp with the major's papers," put inRob in the same calm tones, "don't try to assume any better position thanthat of a common thief, Freeman."
With a quick snarl of rage the boy jumped on the helpless and bound boy.He brought his fist down on Rob's face with all his force. Then hefastened his hands in Rob's hair and tugged with all his might. Butsuddenly something happened. Something that startled young Huntconsiderably.
Rob gave a quick twist and despite his bonds managed to half raisehimself. In this position he gave the other lad such a terrific "butt"that Freeman was sent staggering backward, with a white face. Unable toregain his balance he presently fell flat on the sand. He scrambled tohis feet and seized a big bit of timber, the limb of a hemlock that layclose at hand. He was advancing, brandishing this with the intention ofannihilating Rob when Stonington Hunt, who had hitherto been an impassiveobserver, stepped between them.
"Here, here, what's all this?" he snapped angrily. "This isn't a fightingring. Put down that stick, Freeman, and you, young Blake, listen to me."
"I'm listening," said Rob, in the same cold, impassive way that had soirritated Freeman.
"You want to regain your freedom and rejoin your friends, don't you?" wasthe next question.
"If it can be done by honorable means--yes. But I doubt if you can employsuch, after what I've seen of you."
"Hard words won't mend matters," rejoined Hunt with a frown, "after all,I've as much right to this hidden treasure as anyone else--if I can getit."
"Yes, if you can get it," replied Rob with meaning emphasis, wonderingmuch what could be coming next.
"Your liberty depends on my getting it," resumed Hunt.
"My liberty?" echoed the boy, "how is that?"
"I want you to write a note to Major Dangerfield. He thinks a good dealof you, doesn't he?"
"I hope so," responded Rob, mightily curious to know what Hunt wasdriving at.
"He's responsible, too, in a way, for your safety, isn't he? I mean yourparents rely on him to bring you back safe and sound?"
"I suppose so. But why don't you come to the point. Tell me what it isyou want."
"Just this: You write to the major. I'll see that the note is delivered.You must tell him to give my messenger the plan and map of the treasure'shiding place. If he does so you will be returned safe and sound. So willthe nigger and the canoes. We didn't want that nigger anyhow. In thedarkness we mistook him for the major."
Rob could hardly repress a smile at the idea of the dignified major beingconfused with the ubiquitous Jumbo.
"Are you willing to write such a letter?"
"You mean am I willing to stake my safety against the major's hopes ofrecovering his relative's hidden fortune?"
"That's about it--yes."
Rob's mind worked quickly. It might be dangerous to give a directnegative and yet he certainly would have refused to do as the rascalopposite to him suggested.
"I--I--Can you give me time to think it over?" he hesitated, assuminguncertainty in decision.
"Yes, I'll give you a reasonable period. But mind, no shilly-shallying.Don't entertain any idea of escape. You'll be guarded as closely here asif you were in a stone-walled prison."
"I know that," said Rob, feeling an inward conviction that Hunt's wordswere literally true. The cliff-enclosed cove was indeed a prison. Huntturned away, followed by his son. The latter cast a malevolent look backat Rob as he went.
"My! His father must be proud of that lad," thought Rob.
Hunt and his followers fell to playing cards. Rob was left to hisreflections. Jumbo sat gloomily apart and yet in full view of the cardplayers. After a while Rob's thoughts reverted to the conversation he hadoverheard between Dale and Peter Bumpus. In this connection he suddenlybethought himself of something. Jim Dale had spoken of the revenueofficers raiding the moonshiners' plant. If that was the case, and themiscreants had all escaped, how did they go?
The revenue officers probably attacked the place from the lake side ofthe cove. This would have effectually shut off all hope of escape in thatdirection. The only conclusion left, to account for the freedom of thegang was a startling one.
The cove must have some secret entrance or exit. If such were the case itcould only be by a passage or by steps cut in the seemingly solid rock.Rob's heart began
to beat a bit faster. There might be a chance of escapeafter all, if only he could discover the means of exit he was now certainmust exist somewhere in the cove.
But a careful scrutiny failed to show any indications of such a device ashe was looking for. The walls were bare and clean as cliffs of marble.Not more than two or three stunted conifers grew out of an occasionalcrevice. The enclosing walls would not have afforded footing to a fly.
"Guess I was wrong," thought Rob to himself and lying back on the sand heclosed his eyes the better to concentrate his thoughts. But what with thestrain of the early hours and the warm, sultry atmosphere, the lad foundhis ideas wandering. Presently, without knowing it, he had dropped offinto a sound slumber.
When he awoke it was with a start. The long shadows showed him that theday was far spent. All at once voices near at hand struck in upon hishalf awakened senses.
Rob heard a few words and then, with wildly beating pulses, he fell tosimulating sleep with all his might. From what he had heard of theconversation he believed that a hope of escape lay in the words of thetalkers.
The Boy Scouts' Mountain Camp Page 13
