Tom Swift and His Air Scout; Or, Uncle Sam's Mastery of the Sky

by Victor Appleton

  CHAPTER XXII

  CLEWS AT LAST

  For a moment, at sight of the deserted cabin, staring at Tom and hisfriend, as it were, from its hiding place amid the trees, the younginventor and his companion did not move. They just stood looking at theplace.

  "Well," said Tom, at length, "we found it, didn't we?"

  "We found something anyhow," agreed Jackson. "Whether it amounts toanything or not, we've got to see."

  "Come on!" cried Tom, impulsively. "I'm going to see what's there."

  "There doesn't appear to be much of anything," said Jackson, as helooked toward the lonely cabin with critical eyes. "I should say thatplace hadn't been used, even as a chicken coop, in a long while."

  "We can soon tell!" exclaimed Tom, striding forward.

  "Wait just a minute!" cried his companion, catching him by the coat."Don't be in such a hurry."

  "Why not?" asked Tom. "There isn't any danger, is there?"

  "I don't know about that. There's no telling who may be hidden in thatcabin, in spite of its deserted appearance. And though there aren't any'No Trespass' signs up, it may be that we wouldn't be welcome. If thereare some tramps there, which is possible, they might take a notion toshoot at us first and ask questions as to our peaceable intentionsafterward--when it would be too late."

  "Nonsense!" exclaimed Tom. "There aren't any tramps there and, if therewere, they wouldn't dare shoot. I'm going to see what the mysteryis--if there is one."

  But there was no sign of life, and, taking this as an indication thattheir advance would not be disputed, Jackson followed Tom. The latteradvanced until he could take in all the details of the shack. It wasmade of logs, and once had been chinked with mud or clay. Some of thishad fallen out, leaving spaces between the tree trunks.

  "It wasn't a bad little shack at one time," decided Tom. "Maybe it wasa place where some one camped out during the summer. But it hasn't beenused of late. I never knew there was such a place around here, and Ithought I knew this locality pretty well."

  "I never heard of it, either," said Jackson. "Let's give a shout andsee if there's any one around. They may be asleep. Hello, there!" hecalled in sufficiently vigorous tones to have awakened an ordinarysleeper.

  Put there was no answer, and as the shadows of the night began to fall,the place took on a most lonely aspect.

  "Let's go up and knock--or go in if the door's open," suggested Tom."We can't lose any more time, if we're to get out of here before night."

  "Go ahead," said Jackson, and together they went to the cabin door.

  "Locked!" exclaimed Tom, as he saw a padlock attached to a chain. Itappeared to be fastened through two staples, driven one into the doorand the other into the jamb, at right angles to one another andoverlapping.

  "Knock!" suggested Jackson. But when Tom had done so, and there was noanswer, the machinist took hold of the lock. To his own surprise andthat of Tom, one of the staples pulled out and the door swung open. Theplace had evidently been forced before, and the lock had not beenopened by a key. The staple had been pulled out and replaced loosely inthe holes.

  For a moment nothing could be made out in the dark interior of theshack. But as their eyes became used to the gloom, Tom and hiscompanion were able to see that the shack consisted of two rooms.

  In the first one there was a rusty stove, a table, and some chairs, andit was evident, from pans and skillets hanging on the wall, as well asfrom a small cupboard built on one side, that this was the kitchen andliving room combined.

  "Anybody here?" cried Tom, as he stepped inside.

  Only a dull echo answered.

  The two could now see where a door gave entrance to an inner room, andthis, a quick glance showed, was the sleeping apartment, two bunksbeing built on the side walls.

  "Well, somebody had it pretty comfortable here," decided Tom, as helooked around. "They've been cooking and sleeping here, and not so verylong ago, either. It wouldn't be such a bad place if it was cleanedout."

  "That's right," agreed Jackson. "Wouldn't mind camping here myself, ifthere was any fishing near."

  "The river can't be far away," suggested Tom. "And now let's see whatwe can find, and see if we can get a line on who has been here. Butfirst we'll let in a little light."

  He opened a window in the sleeping room, and pushed back the heavyplank shutter that had been closed. When the light entered it was seenthat both bunks bore evidence of having been lately slept in. Theblankets were tossed back, as if the occupants had risen, and in theouter room, on the stove, were signs that indicated a meal had beenserved not many days gone by.

  "Now," observed Tom musingly, as he wandered about the place, "if wecould only find out who owns this, and who has been here lately--"

  Jackson stooped over, and, thrusting aside an end of the blankets thattrailed on the floor from one of the bunks, picked up something.

  "What is it?" asked Tom.

  "Looks like a leather pocketbook," was the answer. "That's what it is,"the mechanic went on, as he held the object to the light. "It's awallet."

  "Let me see it!" exclaimed Tom quickly. He took the wallet from thehands of Jackson. Then the young inventor uttered a cry. "A clew atlast!" he exclaimed. "A clew at last! Mr. Nestor has been in thiscabin!"

  "How do you know?" asked Jackson quickly.

  "This is his wallet," said Tom excitedly. "I've often seen him have it.In fact he had it with him on Earthquake Island, the time I sent thewireless message for help. I saw it several times then. He kept in itwhat few papers he had saved from the wreck. And I've seen it oftenenough since. That's Mr. Nestor's wallet all right. Besides, if youwant any other evidence--look!" He opened the leather flaps and showedJackson on one, stamped in gold letters, the name of Mary's father.

  "Well, what do you make of it, Tom?" asked the mechanician, as hefinished his examination of the wallet. "What does it mean? Thepocket-book is empty and that--"

  "Might mean almost anything," completed Tom. "But it's a clew allright! He's been here, and I'm pretty certain he was brought here inthe auto with the odd tires--the one Mr. Damon and I saw traces of thenight we heard the cries for help."

  "But that doesn't help us now," said Jackson. "The point is to find outhow lately Mr. Nestor was here, and what has happened to him since.There isn't anything in the wallet, is there?"

  "Nothing," answered Tom, making a careful examination so as to be sure."It's as empty as a last year's bird nest. He's been robbed--that'swhat has happened to Mr. Nestor. He was waylaid that night, instead ofbeing run down as I thought--waylaid and robbed and then his body wasbrought here."

  "There you go again, Tom! Jumping to conclusions!" said Jackson, with afriendly smile, and with the familiarity of an old and valued helper."Maybe he's in perfectly good health. Just because you found his emptywallet doesn't argue that your friend is in serious trouble. He mayhave dropped this on the road and some one picked it up. I'll admitthey may have taken whatever was in it, but that doesn't proveanything. The thing for us to do is to find out who knows about thisshack; who owns it, on whose land it is, and whether any one has beenseen here lately."

  "They've been here lately whether they've been seen or not," said Tompositively. "There are the auto tracks. It rained two days ago, and thetracks were made since. Mr. Nestor must have been here within two days."

  "He may or may not," said Jackson. "Say, rather, that some one was hereand left his wallet after him. Now see if we can find other clews!"

  They looked about in the fast fading light, but at first could discovernothing more than evidences that three or four persons had been livingin the shack and at some recent date--probably within a day or two.

  They had had their meals there and had slept there. But this seemed tobe all that could be established, other than that Mr. Nestor's walletwas there, stripped of its contents.

  Tom was looking through the closet, from which a frightened chipmunksprang as he opened the door. There were the remains of some food,which accounted for th
e presence of the little striped animal. And, asTom poked about, his hand came in contact with something wrapped inpaper on an upper shelf. It was something that clinked metallicly.

  "What's that?" asked Jackson. "Knives, or some other weapons?"

  "Neither," answered Tom. "It's a couple of files, and they've been usedlately. I can see something in the grooves yet and--"

  Suddenly Tom ceased speaking and drew from his pocket a small butpowerful magnifying glass. Through this he looked at one of the files,taking it out in front of the shack where the light was better.

  "I thought so!" he cried. "Look here, Jackson!"

  "What is it?"

  "Another clew!" answered Tom.