CHAPTER VI
THE I. W. W. SHOWS ITS HAND
"Changed yer job?" inquired Saginaw Ed, sleepily a few mornings laterwhen Connie slipped quietly from his bunk and lighted the oil lamp.
"Not yet," smiled the boy. "Why?"
"No one but teamsters gits up at this time of night--you got an hour tosleep yet."
"This is the first day of the season, and I'm going out and get a deer."
Saginaw laughed: "Oh, yer goin' out an' git a deer--jest like rollin'off a log! You might's well crawl back in bed an' wait fer a snow. Deerhuntin' without snow is like fishin' without bait--you might snag ontoone, but the chances is all again' it."
"Bet I'll kill a deer before I get back," laughed the boy.
"Better pack up yer turkey an' fix to stay a long time then," twittedSaginaw. "But, I won't bet--it would be like stealin'--an' besides, Ilost one bet on you a'ready."
The teamsters, their lanterns swinging, were straggling toward thestable as the boy crossed the clearing.
"Hey, w'at you gon keel, de bear-cat?" called Frenchy.
"Deer," answered Connie with a grin.
"Ho! She ain' no good for hont de deer! She too mooch no snow. De groun'she too mooch dry. De deer, she hear you comin' wan mile too queek, denshe ron way ver' fas', an' you no kin track heem."
"Never mind about that," parried the boy, "I'll be in tonight, and inthe morning you can go out and help me pack in the meat."
"A'm help you breeng in de meat, a'ri. Ba Goss! A'm lak A'm git to biteme on chonk dat _venaison_."
Connie proceeded as rapidly as the darkness would permit to the shore ofa marshy lake some three or four miles from camp, and secreted himselfbehind a windfall, thirty yards from the trail made by the deer ingoing down to drink. Just at daybreak a slight sound attracted hisattention, and peering through the screen of tangled branches, the boysaw a large doe picking her way cautiously down the trail. He watched insilence as she advanced, halted, sniffed the air suspiciously, andpassed on to the water's edge. Lowering her head, she rubbed aninquisitive nose upon the surface of the thin ice that sealed theshallow bay of the little lake. A red tongue darted out and licked atthe ice and she pawed daintily at it with a small front foot. Then,raising the foot, she brought it sharply down, and the knifelike hoofcut through the ice as though it were paper. Pleased with theperformance she pawed again and again, throwing the cold water in everydirection and seeming to find great delight in crushing the ice into thetiniest fragments. Tiring of this, she paused and sniffed the air,turning her big ears backward and forward to catch the slightest soundthat might mean danger. Then, she drank her fill, made her way back upthe trail, and disappeared into the timber. A short time later another,smaller doe followed by a spring fawn, went down, and allowing them topass unharmed, Connie settled himself to wait for worthier game. Anhour passed during which the boy ate part of the liberal lunch withwhich the cook had provided him. Just as he had about given up hope ofseeing any further game, a sharp crackling of twigs sounded directlybefore him, and a beautiful five-prong buck broke into the trail andstood with uplifted head and nostrils a-quiver. Without taking his eyesfrom the buck, Connie reached for his rifle, but just as he raised itfrom the ground its barrel came in contact with a dry branch whichsnapped with a sound that rang in the boy's ears like the report of acannon. With a peculiar whistling snort of fear, the buck turned andbounded crashing away through the undergrowth. Connie lowered the riflewhose sights had been trained upon the white "flag" that bobbed up anddown until it was lost in the thick timber.
"No use taking a chance shot," he muttered, disgustedly. "If I shouldhit him I would only wound him, and I couldn't track him down withoutsnow. I sure am glad nobody was along to see that, or they never wouldhave quit joshing me about it." Shouldering his rifle he proceededleisurely toward another lake where he had spotted a water-trail, andthrowing himself down behind a fallen log, slept for several hours. Whenhe awoke the sun was well into the west and he finished his lunch andmade ready to wait for his deer, taking good care this time that no twigor branch should interfere with the free use of his gun.
At sunset a four-prong buck made his way cautiously down the trail and,waiting 'til the animal came into full view, Connie rested his rifleacross the log and fired at a point just behind the shoulder. It was aclean shot, straight through the heart, and it was but the work of a fewmoments to bleed, and draw him. Although not a large buck, Connie foundthat it was more than he could do to hang him clear of the wolves, so heresorted to the simple expedient of peeling a few saplings and layingthem across the carcass. This method is always safe where game or meatmust be left exposed for a night or two, as the prowlers fear a trap.However, familiarity breeds contempt, and if left too long, some animalis almost sure to discover the ruse.
Packing the heart, liver, and tongue, Connie struck out swiftly forcamp, but darkness overtook him with a mile still to go.
As he approached the clearing a low sound caused him to stop short.He listened and again he heard it distinctly--the sound of somethingheavy moving through the woods. The sounds grew momentarily moredistinct--whatever it was was approaching the spot where he stood. Asmall, thick windfall lay near him, and beside it a large spruce spreadits low branches invitingly near the ground. With hardly a sound Connie,pack, gun, and all, scrambled up among those thick branches and seatedhimself close to the trunk. The sounds drew nearer, and the boy couldhear fragments of low-voiced conversation. The night prowlers were men,not animals! Connie's interest increased. There seemed to be several ofthem, but how many the boy could not make out in the darkness. Presentlythe leader crashed heavily into the windfall where he floundered for amoment in the darkness.
"This is fer enough. Stick it in under here!" he growled, as the otherscame up with him. Connie heard sounds as of a heavy object being pushedbeneath the interlaced branches of the windfall but try as he would hecould not catch a glimpse of it. Suddenly the faces of the men showedvividly as one of their number held a match to the bowl of his pipe.They were the three I. W. W.'s and with them was Steve! "Put out thatmatch you eediot! D'ye want the hull camp a pokin' their nose in ourbusiness?"
"'Tain't no one kin see way out here," growled the other, whom Connierecognized as Pierce.
"It's allus fellers like you that knows more'n any one else, that don'tknow nawthin'," retorted the first speaker, "come on, now, we got to gitback. Remember--'leven o'clock on the furst night the wind blows stifffrom the west. You, Steve, you tend to swipin' Frenchy's lantern. Piercehere, he'll soak the straw, an' Sam, you stand ready to drive a plug inthe lock when I come out. Then when the excitement's runnin' high, I'llholler that Frenchy's lantern's missin' an' they'll think he left it litin the stable. I tell ye, we'll terrorize every business in these hereUnited States. We'll have 'em all down on their knees to the I. W. W.!Then we'll see who's the bosses an' the rich! We'll hinder the work, an'make it cost 'em money, an' Pierce here'll git even with Frenchy, all inone clatter. We'll be gittin' back, now. An' don't all pile into themen's camp to onct, neither."
Connie sat motionless upon his branch until the sounds of the retreatingmen were lost in the darkness. What did it all mean? "Swipe Frenchy'slantern." "Plug the lock." "Soak the straw." "Terrorize business." Thewords of the man repeated themselves over and over in Connie's brain.What was this thing these men were planning to do "at eleven o'clock thefirst night the wind blows stiff from the west?" He wriggled to theground and crept toward the thing the men had _cached_ in the windfall.It was a five-gallon can of coal-oil! "That's Steve's part of thescheme, whatever it is," he muttered. "He's got a key to thestorehouse." Leaving the can undisturbed, he struck out for camp,splashing through the waters of a small creek without noticing it, sobusy was his brain trying to fathom the plan of the gang. "I've got allday tomorrow, at least," he said, "and that'll give me time to think. Iwon't tell even Saginaw 'til I've got it doped out. I bet when they tryto start something they'll find out who's going to be terrorized!" A fewminutes la
ter he entered the office and was greeted vociferously bySaginaw Ed:
"Hello there, son, by jiminetty, I thought you'd took me serious when Itold you you'd better make a long stay of it. What ye got there? Well,dog my cats, if you didn't up an' git you a deer! Slip over to thecook's camp an' wade into some grub. I told him to shove yer supper ontothe back of the range, again' you got back. While yer gone I'll jest runa couple rags through yer rifle."
When Connie returned from the cook's camp Saginaw was squinting down thebarrel of the gun. "Shines like a streak of silver," he announced;"Hurley's mighty pernickety about his rifle, an' believe me, it ain'teveryone he'd borrow it to. Tell me 'bout yer hunt," urged the man, andConnie saw a gleam of laughter in his eye. "Killed yer deer dead centreat seven hundred yards, runnin' like greased lightnin', an' theunderbrush so thick you couldn't hardly see yer sights, I 'pose."
The boy laughed: "I got him dead centre, all right, but it was astanding shot at about twenty yards, and I had a rest. He's only afour-prong--I let a five-prong get away because I was clumsy."
Saginaw Ed eyed the boy quizzically: "Say, kid," he drawled. "Do youknow where folks goes that tells the truth about huntin'?"
"No," grinned Connie.
"Well, I don't neither," replied Saginaw, solemnly. "I guess there ain'tno place be'n pervided, but if they has, I bet it's gosh-awful lonesomethere."
Despite the volubility of his companion, Connie was unusually silentduring the short interval that elapsed before they turned in. Over andover in his mind ran the words of the four men out there in the dark, ashe tried to figure out their scheme from the fragmentary bits ofconversation that had reached his ears.
"Don't mope 'cause you let one buck git away, kid. Gosh sakes, the lastbuck I kilt, I got so plumb rattled when I come onto him, I missed himeight foot!"
"How did you kill him then?" asked Connie, and the instant the wordswere spoken he realized he had swallowed the bait--hook and all.
With vast solemnity, Saginaw stared straight before him: "Well, you see,it was the last shell in my rifle an' I didn't have none in my pocket,so I throw'd the gun down an' snuck up an' bit him on the lip. If everyou run onto a deer an' ain't got no gun, jest you sneak up in front ofhim an' bite him on the lip, an' he's yourn. I don't know no other placeyou kin bite a deer an' kill him. They're like old Acolyte, or whateverhis name was, in the Bible, which they couldn't kill him 'til they shothim in the heel--jest one heel, mind you, that his ma held him up bywhen she dipped him into the kettle of bullet-proof. If he'd of be'n me,you bet I'd of beat it for the Doc an' had that leg cut off below theknee, an' a wooden one made, an' he'd of be'n goin' yet! I know afeller's got two wooden ones, with shoes on 'em jest like other folks,and when you see him walk the worst you'd think: he's got a couple ofcorns."
"Much obliged, Saginaw," said Connie, with the utmost gravity, as hearose and made ready for bed, "I'll sure remember that. Anyhow you don'tneed to worry about any solitary confinement in the place where the deerhunters go." And long after he was supposed to be asleep, the boygrinned to himself at the sounds of suppressed chuckling that came fromSaginaw's bunk.
Next morning Connie helped Frenchy pack in the deer, and when theteamster had returned to his work, the boy took a stroll about camp."Let's see," he mused, "they're going to soak the straw inside thestable with oil and set fire to it on the inside, and they'll do it withFrenchy's lantern so everyone will think he forgot it and it got tippedover by accident. Then, before the fire is discovered they'll lock thestable and jam the lock so the men can't get in to fight it." The boy'steeth gritted savagely. "And there are sixteen horses in that stable!"he cried. "The dirty hounds! A west wind would sweep the flames againstthe oat house, then the men's camp, and the cook's camp and storehouse.They sure do figure on a clean sweep of this camp. But, what I can't seeis how that is going to put any one in terror of the I. W. W., if theythink Frenchy caused the fire accidentally. Dan McKeever says all crooksare fools--and he's right." He went to the office and sat for a longtime at his pine desk. From his turkey he extracted the Service revolverthat he had been allowed to keep in memory of his year with the Mounted."I can take this," he muttered, as he affectionately twirled thesmoothly running cylinder with his thumb, "and Saginaw can take therifle, and we can nail 'em as they come out of the woods with thecoal-oil can. The trouble is, we wouldn't have anything on them exceptmaybe the theft of a little coal-oil. I know what they intend to do, butI can't prove it--there's four of them and only one of me and noevidence to back me up. On the other hand, if we let them start thefire, it might be too late to put it out." His eyes rested on the canthat contained the supply of oil for the office. It was an exactduplicate of the one beneath the windfall. He jumped to his feet andcrossing to the window carefully scanned the clearing. No one was insight, and the boy passed out the door and slipped silently into thethick woods. When he returned the crew was crowding into the men's campto wash up for supper. The wind had risen, and as Connie's gaze centredupon the lashing pine tops, he smiled grimly,--it was blowing stifflyfrom the west.
After supper Saginaw Ed listened with bulging eyes to what the boy hadto say. When he was through the man eyed him critically:
"Listen to me, kid. Nonsense is nonsense, an' business is business. Idon't want no truck with a man that ain't got some nonsense about himsomewheres--an' I don't want no truck with one that mixes up nonsensean' serious business. Yer only a kid, an' mebbe you ain't grabbed thatyet. But I want to tell you right here an' now, fer yer own good: Ifthis here yarn is some gag you've rigged up to git even with me fer lastnight, it's a mighty bad one. A joke is a joke only so long as it don'tharm no one----"
"Every word I've told you is the truth," broke in the boy, hotly.
"There, now, don't git excited, kid. I allowed it was, but they ain't noharm ever comes of makin' sure. It's eight o'clock now, s'pose we jestloaf over to the men's camp an' lay this here case before 'em."
"No! No!" cried the boy: "Why, they--they might kill them!"
"Well, I 'spect they would do somethin' of the kind. Kin you blame 'emwhen you stop to think of them horses locked in a blazin' stable, an'the deliberate waitin' 'til the wind was right to carry the fire to themen's camp? The men works hard, an' by eleven o'clock they're poundin'their ear mighty solid. S'pose they didn't wake up till too late--whatthen?"
Connie shuddered. In his heart he felt, with Saginaw Ed, that anysummary punishment the men chose to deal out to the plotters would berichly deserved. "I know," he replied: "But, mob punishment is never_right_, when a case can be reached by the law. It may look right, andlots of times it does hand out a sort of rough justice. But, here we arenot out of reach of the law, and it will go lots farther in showing upthe I. W. W. if we let the law take its course."
Saginaw Ed seemed impressed: "That's right, kid, in the main. But thereain't no law that will fit this here special case. S'pose we go over an'arrest them hounds--what have we got on 'em! They swiped five gallons ofcoal-oil! That would git 'em mebbe thirty days in the county jail. Thelaw can't reach a man fer what he's _goin'_ to do--an' I ain't a goin'over to the men's camp an' advise the boys to lay abed an' git roastedso's mebbe we kin git them I. W. W.'s hung. The play wouldn't bepop'lar."
Connie grinned: "Well, not exactly," he agreed. "But, why not just sithere and let them go ahead with their scheme. I've got a good revolver,and you can take the rifle, and we can wait for 'em in the tote wagonthat's just opposite the stable door. Then when they've soaked thestraw, and tipped over Frenchy's lantern, and locked the door behind'em, and plugged the lock, we can cover 'em and gather 'em in."
"Yeh, an' meanwhile the fire'll be workin' on that oil-soaked strawinside, an' where'll the horses be? With this here wind a blowin' theyain't men enough in the woods to put out a fire, an' the hull camp wouldgo."
Connie laughed, and leaning forward, spoke rapidly for several moments.When he had finished, Saginaw eyed him with undisguised approval: "Well,by jiminetty! Say, kid, you've got a head on you! That
's jest theticket! The courts of this State has jest begun to wake up to the factthat the I. W. W. is a real danger. A few cases, with the evidence asclean again' 'em as this, an' the stinkin' varmints 'll be huntin' theirholes--you bet!"
At nine-thirty Saginaw and Connie put out the office light, and withsome clothing arranged dummies in their bunks, so that if any of theconspirators should seek to spy upon them through the window they wouldfind nothing to arouse their suspicion. Then, fully armed, they creptout and concealed themselves in the tote wagon. An hour passed, andthrough the slits cut in the tarpaulin that covered them, they saw fourshadowy forms steal silently toward them from the direction of the men'scamp. Avoiding even the feeble light of the stars, they paused in theshadow of the oat house, at a point not thirty feet from the tote wagon.A whispered conversation ensued and two of the men hastily crossed theopen and disappeared into the timber.
"Stand still, can't ye!" hissed one of those who remained, and hiscompanion ceased to pace nervously up and down in the shadow.
"I'm scairt," faltered the other, whom the watchers identified as Steve."I wisht I wasn't in on this."
"Quit yer shiverin'! Yer makin' that lantern rattle. What they do to us,if they ketch us, hain't a patchin' to what we'll do to you if you backout." The man called Sam spat out his words in an angry whisper, and thetwo relapsed into silence.
At the end of a half-hour the two men who had entered the timberappeared before the door of the stable, bearing the oil can betweenthem. The others quickly joined them, there was a fumbling at the lock,the door swung open, and three of the men entered. The fourth stoodready with the heavy padlock in his hand. A few moments of silencefollowed, and then the sound of the empty can thrown to the floor. Afeeble flicker of flame dimly lighted the interior, and the three menwho had entered rushed out into the night. The heavy door closed, thepadlock snapped shut and a wooden plug was driven into the key hole.
"_Hands up!_" The words roared from the lips of Saginaw Ed, as he andConnie leaped to the ground and confronted the four at a distance of tenyards. For one terrified instant the men stared at the guns in theircaptors hands, and then four pairs of hands flew skyward.
"Face the wall, an' keep a reachin'," commanded Saginaw, "an' if any oneof you goes to start somethin' they'll be wolf-bait in camp in about onesecond."
A horse snorted nervously inside the stable and there was a stamping ofiron shod feet.
"Jest slip in an' fetch out Frenchy's lantern, kid, an' we'll git thesebirds locked up in the oat house, 'fore the men gits onto the racket."
With a light crow-bar which the boy had brought for the purpose, hepryed the hasp and staple from the door, leaving the plugged lock forevidence. Entering the stable whose interior was feebly illumined by thesickly flare of the overturned lantern, he returned in time to hear thepetty bickering of the prisoners.
"It's your fault," whined Pierce, addressing the leader of the gang."You figgered out this play--an' it hain't worked!"
"It hain't neither my fault!" flashed the man. "Some one of you'sblabbed, an' we're in a pretty fix, now."
"'Twasn't me!" came in a chorus from the others.
"But at that," sneered Sam, "if you'd a lit that oil, we'd a burnt upthe camp anyhow."
"I did light it!" screamed the leader, his face livid with rage. "Itipped over the lantern an' shoved it right under the straw."
"That's right," grinned Connie, from the doorway, as he flashed thelantern upon the faces of the men. "And if you hadn't taken the troubleto soak the straw with water it would have burned, too."
"Water! Whad' ye mean--water?"
"I mean just this," answered the boy, eyeing the men with a glance ofsupreme contempt, "I sat out there beside that windfall last night whenyou hid your can of oil. I listened to all you had to say, and today Islipped over there and poured out the oil and filled the can with water.You I. W. W.'s are a fine outfit," he sneered: "If you had some brains,and nerve, and consciences, you might almost pass for _men!_"