The Bungalow Boys in the Great Northwest

  CHAPTER VIII.

  IN THE GRIP OF SIMON LAKE.

  But Simon Lake's voice, setting aside its rasping natural inflection,was mild enough as he addressed them.

  "Wa-al, boys, yer see thet I've got a smart long arm."

  "I'd like to know by what right you've had us brought here in thisfashion," broke out Tom indignantly. "We're not interfering with you.Why, then, can't you leave us alone?"

  "Jes' cos I want er bit uv infermation frum yer," rejoined Simon easily.He leaned down and picked up a bit of wood. Then, drawing a knife, heshaped it to a toothpick and thrust it in his mouth. During the pausethe boys noticed that several rough-looking men had sauntered up fromvarious positions about the camp. Among them was one short, stocky man,who might have been the thickset man of the boat the night before. Thisindividual's hat was shoved back--for it was warm and stuffy in thisplace--exposing a ruddy stubble of hair. A bristly mustache as coarse aswire sprouted from his upper lip. This man was Zeb Hunt, Bully Banjo'smate when afloat and chief lieutenant ashore. In some ways he was abigger ruffian than his superior.

  "Ez I sed," resumed Simon Lake, when he had shaped the pick to hissatisfaction, "I want er bit uv infermation from yer. It ain't oftenthet Simon Lake wants ter know suthin' thet he kain't find out rightsmart fer hisself. But this yar time it's diff'ent. I'm a kalkerlatin'on you byes helpin' me out."

  A sudden gleam came into those cold, steely eyes. A flash of warning notto trifle with him, it seemed. But it died out as suddenly as it hadcome, and in his monotonous Yankee drawl, Simon went on:

  "Ther hull in an' outs uv it is--how fur hez Chillingwuth gone?"

  "I don't know what you mean," exclaimed Tom, who had decided to act asspokesman, and silenced the impetuous Jack by a look.

  "Oh, yes, yer do, boy. Daon't try ter gilflicker me. I'm ez smart ez asteel trap, boy, and ez quick as sixty-'leven, so da-ont rile me up. I'maskin' yer ag'in--how fur hez Chillingworth gone?"

  "He's anchored down in the cove," said Tom, willfully misunderstandinghim.

  Again that angry gleam shone in Bully Banjo's eyes. His thin lipstightened till they were a mere slit across his gaunt visage.

  "Daon't rile me, boy," he said, in an almost pleading voice, althoughTom was swift to catch the menace behind it. "Daon't rile me. Yer seenthet them I wants I gits. Yer seen thet when that Chink yonder walkedinter yer by the crick. Speak me true, bye, an' speak me fair, an' yerkin go on yer way. But ef yer lie--wa-al, by Juniper, you'll wish as youwuz dead a hundred times afore you be."

  "In any event," said Tom boldly enough, and without a quiver in hisvoice, though his scalp tightened and his heart beat thick and fast atthese words; "in any event, if you think you can carry out any suchhigh-handed piece of business as this without suffering for it, you'rebadly mistaken."

  Simon Lake laughed. His mirth was not pleasant to hear.

  "We're in the twentieth century, recollect," added Tom. "There is such athing as law and order. Seattle is not so very far away. Port Townsend,too. There are police there, and the means to make you suffer."

  "Wa-al, d'ye hear thet, Zeb?" asked Bully Banjo, turning to his mate. "Ikinder kalkerlate thet is ther all-firedest best joke I've hearn sinceHeck wuz a pup. By Juniper, boy," he went on impressively, "ther ain'tno law made kin touch me. Understand? No law made. They're welcome tertry ef they want ter. You kin see fer yourselves thet nobody wouldn'tfind this place unless they knowed the way, and nobody's not never goin'ter diskiver it 'cept those who I've a mind shall. Na-ow air yer goin'ter tell me wot Chillingworth hez done in ther matter of tryin' terbring me up with a short tun?"

  "No. I am not," replied Tom firmly. "That is Mr. Chillingworth'sbusiness. Why do you ask us about it? We are only out here as hisguests. We know nothing about your ras----" "Rascality" Tom was going tosay, but thought better of it and substituted: "Goings on."

  Lake smiled unpleasantly. His fingers closed suggestively around hisknife.

  "Yer seem ter cle'n plum everlastingly fergit thet I kin find out all Iwant ter know frum thet Chink thar," he snapped suddenly, pointing toFu, who stood apart with his tall countryman. The two seemed to betalking earnestly. As Lake turned, the tall Mongolian hastened towardhim. It was as if he had overheard him, although that at the distancewhich he had been standing would have been impossible.

  "That fellow yonder," he said, speaking slowly, but using good English,"that fellow yonder," pointing to Fu, "tells me that these boys andtheir companions were anchored on a sloop in the cove last night. Theysaw the burials and overheard some of our talk."

  Lake's face grew black, as if a thundercloud had settled on it. Zeb Huntexclaimed angrily. The men standing about began to mutter. Tom saw thatthe frightened Fu must have told everything.

  "Is this true?" demanded Lake, turning to the boys.

  "I suppose so," rejoined Tom doggedly. He felt a helpless sense thatthere was no use in denying it.

  "Thet means jes' so much more ammernition in Chillingworth's hands,"mused Lake slowly. "Consarn him! Why kain't he fall inter line like theother ranchers? I don't hev no trouble with them. I pay fer what I git,cash daown on the nail, an' no questions asked. By Juniper, it's funnyter me the way Chillingworth acts."

  "We've got to get the whip hand of him sooner or later," struck in ZebHunt. "Why not now?"

  "How d'ye mean, Zeb?" asked the lanky Bully Banjo, turning quickly onhim as a man who is ready to grasp at any suggestion.

  "What I mean is jest this: We've got these two kids here and theChink--though the Chink don't count. But don't yer see thet as long ezwe hold ther kids, we kin dictate terms. Ef Chillingworth getscantankerous--biff!--one of the kids is sniffed out."

  This amiable plan was proposed in a calm way that alarmed the boys farmore than if vehemence had been used. They saw that logically to keepthem prisoners was the only thing for the gang to do.

  Nevertheless, he hung on Simon Lake's next words. They were not long incoming.

  "Zeb," he said approvingly, "I allers said yer hed a long haid. Now, byChowder, I knows it. Thet's a right smart idee. Here, Death, and you,too, Squinty, take charge of these kids, feed 'em well, but I'll holdyou responsible fer 'em. Take 'em away. I'll make up my mind later whatwe'll do with 'em."

  Then, apparently noticing Tom's start at the ominous name of one of theworthies who came forward at the word of command, the mighty Bully Banjocondescended to explain:

  "Death's right name is 'Death on the Trail' He's a Chinook, and ef youcut up any didoes, ye'll find he's well named."

  The man named Death was a tall, dark-skinned fellow, clad in a buckskincoat and ragged trousers. His companion wore mackinacks and cowhideboots. Both had on ragged sombreros.

  "Come on," said Death, motioning to the boys.

  Squinty said nothing, but his crossed eyes glinted malevolently as heproduced two coils of rawhide rope.

  Boiling with indignation and likewise considerably alarmed, the two boyshad to submit to the indignity of being tied in the ropes till theyresembled two packages bound securely round and round with twine. Likelifeless packages, too, they were presently picked up and helplesslyborne toward the rear of the camp.

  The cliff face towered for some distance above the base of the narrowvalley at this point, and at its foot the boys, as they were bundledalong, noticed a dark fissure. Tom judged it to be the mouth of a cave.He was right. And in a few minutes he learned also that it was tofulfill another purpose--that of a prison.

  Death and Squinty set down their burdens at the entrance, and thenrolled them inside just as if they had been bales of inanimate goods ofsome kind. The boys' feelings were not soothed by the fact that fully ascore of chattering, grinning Chinese watched the operation. Thesefellows were quartered back of the camp, and evidently formed a part ofthe consignment brought in on the schooner the night before.

  The cave did not extend very far back in the rock face, and was narrowand low. But there was plenty of room in it
s narrow confines for twolads, bound as they were. Their two jailers shoved them as far in aspossible and then without a word left them. Or so it seemed, but Tom'seyes--about the only part of his body he could move--presently lit on amotionless figure sitting smoking on a rock near the cave entrance.

  It was Death. A long rifle across his knees showed that he was acting assentinel.

  "Jack, old boy," said Tom, at length, "how are you coming along?"

  "As well as can be expected, as they say when a fellow's been given upfor dead and buried," chuckled Jack.

  His tone and words cheered Tom mightily. His brother, then, stillretained his spirits, and hopeless as their position seemed that wassomething.

  "Looks pretty bad, Tom," said Jack presently. "I wish we could have gotthat medicine through to uncle."

  "So do I," agreed Tom. "So far as this imprisonment is concerned, Iimagine they will only keep us here till they get Chillingworth'spromise to let up on them."

  "But if he won't give it?" demanded Jack. "He didn't strike me as thekind of man to----"

  "Hark!" exclaimed Tom, interrupting him. "What's that--music?"

  Music it was. The strumming of a banjo, played with consummate skill.

  Presently, too, a voice struck in. It was nasal and penetrating,offering a sharp contrast to the real skill of the banjo player:

  "I sailed away in sixty-four, In the Nancy brig from the Yankee shore; We sailed and we sailed in sun and squall; Fer traders' gold where the South Seas fall; Tip away--tip away--where the So-uth Seas fa-all!"