CHAPTER XIX
SUSPENSE
Tom and his party in the other motor-boat had not appeared, nor had the_Gem_ come back from the town of Chippewa Bay with Mr. Hammond. Whyshould not Ruth and Chessleigh spy about among the islands for a time?
It was not now moonlight; and there was some haze which gave asmouldering effect to the stars peering through it. But these soft, hazynights had their own charm and Ruth had come to love them.
Especially on the water. Amid the tamarack-clothed islets the motor-boatscrept in and out in a delightful way. To lie on the cushions in thecockpit of the _Lauriette_ and bask in the pearly starlight was anexperience the girl from Cheslow was not likely to forget.
To-night, when the _Lauriette_ got away from the moving picture camp,there were no other boats in sight. Chess dimmed his lights and the craftcrept through the narrow passages between the islands, heading up stream.
"My idea," he said, "is to land at the back of that island--"
"The Kingdom of Pipes?" interrupted Ruth in surprise.
"Yes. Where you say you landed before--twice."
"Oh!"
"That is, if we see nothing or nobody about."
"I don't think we'd better take any great risk--only two of us," observedRuth, with her usual caution.
"Of course, we won't walk right into danger."
"I should hope not! And just what are we going for, anyway?" and shesuddenly laughed.
"Why, I'm curious about those fellows," said the young man. "And Ithought you were."
"I'm curious about the King of the Pipes. Charley-Horse Pond, Williecalls him."
"Queer old boy, I guess," admitted Chess. "But I want to know more aboutthose chaps who unloaded the boxes."
"What could have been in the boxes? Surely there is no camping party onthat island. At least, no pleasure party."
"I fancy not. If you ask me about the boxes, I am puzzled. Yet, I've aglimmer of an idea--Are you sure that was a woman with them to-day intheir boat?"
"Wonota called her the yellow lady. And Wonota has good eyes."
"With a yellow face, yes? And we saw a Chinaman in the boat that othertime on the river," said Chess quickly.
"Surely she wasn't a Chinese woman? Yet, she might have been."
"Chinese women aren't usually smuggled over the border, I guess,"muttered the young fellow. "But Chinese men are."
"Perhaps we should have reported it to the authorities," Ruth suggested.
"Not until we are sure there is really something wrong. I don't want tobe laughed at, you know."
But Ruth just then had considered another phase of the matter.
"Oh!" she cried. "There's Bilby! He was in it!"
"In what?"
"In that boat when we first saw it. When we saw the Chinaman, you know,out on the Canadian side of the river. If there is anything wrong aboutthese men--and the King of the Pipes--Bilby is mixed up with them."
"I guess you are right, Ruth. Maybe that fellow is into more queer gamesthan just trying to grab your Osage princess."
"But more than that," said Ruth much worried now, "he may have so manyfriends on the Canadian side that he can trace Wonota and her father overthere on Grenadier Island."
"Better warn Mr. Hammond when he comes back from town," suggested herfriend. "That Bilby seems to be universally troublesome. I'll say he is!"
They kept quiet after that, for the outline of the rocky island, with theblasted beech visible at its summit, came into view. Nothing stirred uponthe island, nor was there any other boat in sight.
"Had we better venture ashore?" breathed Ruth, again in doubt.
"Come on. Let's try it. I've got an electric torch in my pocket. We canfind our way all over the island with that."
It was true that the girl of the Red Mill felt some trepidation, but shehad confidence in her companion's muscle and courage if not in hiscaution. Besides, she was very curious about the queer old man and thedoings on his island.
Chess shut off the engine of the _Lauriette_ some distance from theisland; but first he had gone above the rocky landing, so that thesluggish current between the islands drifted the motor-boat back uponthat strand.
He went forward and, with a line in his hand, leaped ashore the moment hecould do so, and drew the _Lauriette_ in to the rock. Then he passed theline around the very sapling to which Ruth had once fastened the canoe.
"Come on!" he whispered, offering his hand to the girl.
She leaped ashore. They were both wearing canvas, rubber-soled, low shoeswhich made no noise on the stones. Chess drew forth the electric torchand tried it, turning the spot of light on the ground at their feet. Itworked perfectly.
In his right-hand jacket pocket he carried an entirely different article,but he did not mention that fact to Ruth. She would not have gone withhim had she known of the presence of the pistol. The possession offirearms would have, to her mind, at once taken the matter out of therealm of mere adventure into that of peril, and Ruth was not seeking suchan experience.
She only half believed in the smugglers. She had seen some men in a boatat the island, but she doubted if it meant anything more than a fishingparty. Those boxes taken ashore meant nothing much to her, if they didsuggest some particularly interesting situation to Chess.
In fact, Copley had not fully taken Ruth into his confidence. He hadreason to suspect that whoever might be on this island were law-breakers,and he really had no right to bring Ruth here. Tom Cameron would not havedone it.
Copley was serious, however, in his intention of finding out if possiblewho was on the island; and when they had passed up the rough path to theround table-stone, Ruth had got over her little shivery feeling and wasas eager as Chess himself.
They passed carefully through the fringe of brush and reached the openspace where the blasted beech tree stood. The faint starlight illuminedthe space, so that Chess did not need to use the torch in his left hand.There was no tent set up here nor any other mark of human habitation.
Ruth knew that there was scarcely any other place on the island where acamp could be established. Had the people they had seen landing from thespeedy launch gone away for good and taken their camp equipment withthem?
Suddenly Copley seized her wrist. His touch was cold and betrayed thefact that he was nervous himself.
"Listen!" he whispered, his lips close to Ruth's ear.
Helen would have immediately been "in a fidget," and said so. But Ruthcould restrain herself pretty well. She nodded so that Copley saw sheheard him and was listening. They waited several moments.
"There!" breathed the young fellow again.
"What is it?" Ruth ventured.
"Somebody talking. Listen!"
There was a human voice near by. It sounded close to them, and yet itsdirection Ruth could not decide upon. There was a hollow, reverberatingquality to the sounds that baffled determination as to their origin. Butit was a human voice without doubt.
Ruth could not, however, understand a word that was spoken. The toneswere first high, then low, never guttural, and possessed a certainsibilant quality. Whether the words spoken were English or not, waslikewise a mystery.
Ruth and Chessleigh stood first in one place, then in another, in thatcircle about the big beech tree. The young man had gone all around thetattered trunk and found no opening. If it was hollow, there was no wayof getting into it near the ground, nor was there any ladder by which onemight scale the huge trunk to the top.
"That's no hide-away," mouthed Chess, his lips close at Ruth's ear again."And it seems to me the sound doesn't come from overhead."
"More as though it came up from the ground," returned Ruth, in the samelow voice. "Do you suppose we are standing on the roof of a cavern, ChessCopley?"
"It might be," agreed the young fellow. "But if it is a cavern, whereunder the sun is the mouth of it? How do they get in or out? It beats mytime!"
Ruth quickly acknowledged that the mystery was beyond her comprehension.The sing-song soun
ds--for such they seemed to be--went on and on,meaningless for the two listeners, who could not distinguish a singleword.
"Think that's your King of the Pipes?" asked Chessleigh finally.
"I don't know. If it is, there must be something more the matter with himthan Willie says there is. He sounds crazy--that is the way it sounds tome."
Ruth Fielding on the St. Lawrence; Or, The Queer Old Man of the Thousand Islands Page 19
