CHAPTER III
A PROMISING CLUE
It was about four o'clock on the following afternoon when a wagon drawnby a pair of husky horses moved along the shore of Lake Solitude, manymiles away from the town of Hickory Ridge.
This vehicle was filled with lively lads, all of them in the fadedkhaki uniforms that, as a rule, distinguish Boy Scouts the wide worldover.
Counting them it would be seen that they numbered just seven, and thisincluded all of those whom we met on the road under the spreadingbranches of the big oak, and Mark Cummings in addition. Since theentire membership of the Wolf Patrol consisted of eight, it was plainthat the only one now lacking was the unfortunate Hen Condit.
After making up their minds to exert themselves to the utmost in hopesof finding the runaway, and bringing him back home, Elmer and theothers had set to work preparing for the campaign.
The patrol leader gave such advice as was required by some of theothers, telling them to go as light as possible, since they would haveto be moving around, and ordinary camp material could not be considered.
If they were compelled to remain out in the open for one or morenights, there were plenty of ways whereby they could secure shelterwithout carrying along such a cumbersome thing as a tent.
Each fellow had his rubber poncho strapped to his pack. Elmer and LilArtha carried a gun each, not that they expected to shoot any game, butto use as a threat should they be faced by a desperate escaped jailbird. Besides this the boys had seen to it that each one had some sortof food supply, in the shape of sandwiches, dried beef, and such thingsas could be most easily packed.
As Lil Artha had gaily declared, they expected to be like "Sherman'sbummers," and live off the country as they went along, though willingto pay ready cash for any and all eggs, fowls or bread secured fromfarmers' wives.
Josh had arranged to "tote" a coffee pot along, together with a supplyof the ground bean; while Landy had a capacious frying-pan fastened tohis pack, which the others just knew would be frequently tripping himup, and making all sorts of noises when they wanted to steal silentlyalong.
Just what they meant to fry in that pan no one fully knew; but theywere strong in "hopes," and believed that things would turn up tosatisfy their hunger when the sensation became too acute.
The team had been hired at the town livery stable, and they had been onthe road now since early in the morning, for it was a long way up toLake Solitude.
As this region had been the scene of some of the earliest camps of theHickory Ridge scouts, of course, the conversation covered many memoriesconnected with those experiences.
The horses had shown signs of playing out some miles back; but LilArtha proved himself to be an artful as well as clever driver. Hemanaged to coax them along, and there was little doubt now that theywould reach their intended destination inside of a short time.
This was a farmer's place that lay adjacent to the swamp at the head ofthe solitary lake. Here they would arrange to leave their team whilesearching the dark recesses of the swamp. As all of them had hadconsiderable experience in such unsavory places they believed they knewfairly well how to go about the hunt.
"Well, we ought to fetch that old farm mighty soon now, I should think,Elmer," remarked the driver, as he flecked the back of the off-horse todisturb a big green fly that was trying to stab the sweat-coveredanimal in a tender spot.
"From what I've been able to find out, and what I know in the bargainfrom my own experience up here," the patrol leader explained, "the headof the lake lies just beyond that patch of willow trees, and we'll seethe farmhouse as soon as we make the next turn. Easy there, Art, youcame near dumping us then."
"The pesky old road is so narrow it's hard to keep going straight,"complained the other, in disgust; for one wheel had, indeed, slippedover the edge, and their escape from a bad spill had been what LilArtha himself would have called a "close shave."
"I reckon suh, Sassafras Swamp must lie over in that direction then?"remarked Chatz, pointing as he spoke.
"Just what it does," replied Elmer.
"It looks particularly gloomy, I should say," remarked Toby.
"Swamps always do, you must know," Elmer told him; "some of them arealways half dark even in the middle of the day. That's because of thejumble of vines that hang from tree to tree, and the canopy of branchesoverhead. Why, down South, as Chatz here can tell you, where Spanishmoss covers the trees, it's almost dark in some swamps."
"But, Elmer, there's one thing I just don't understand," suggestedLandy.
"Out with it then; and if I can explain I'll be only too willing," hewas told.
"Supposing now for the sake of argument that stranger was a bad man whohad escaped from a sheriff somewhere, when being taken to thepenitentiary; and that he managed to get a strangle hold on our chum,Hen Condit, so that the other just had to do whatever he was told--getall that, do you? Well, if they skipped out of Hickory Ridge nightbefore last, how under the sun could they get away up here in a day orso?"
"Yes, it's something like thirty miles, I should say, Elmer, and ittakes that boy Johnny a day and a night to get to our place with hisload, all down-grade, too. You remember that Hen Condit never wasanything to brag of in the line of a long-distance walker."
"He may have made up his mind that he had to do some tall sprinting,"said the other, "when he realized what a hornets' nest he'd stirred upback there."
"Yeth," remarked Ted Burgoyne who had been listening to all this talkwith certain ideas of his own, "and lots of times it ithn't tho veryhard to get a lift on the road. Wagons and autoth happen along, youknow, and the farmers around here are thoft things, you thee."
"I was just going to say that same thing, Ted," Elmer remarked, "whenyou took the very words out of my mouth. Yes, they may have had alift; or else Hen had to stretch himself to do the tallest walking ofhis career. All of which is based on the supposition that they didcome away up here, and are hiding right now somewhere about SassafrasSwamp."
"You're figuring on what Johnny said, eh, Elmer?" asked Mark.
"I'm figuring on a whole lot of things," replied the other; "and amongthem is the fact that some unknown man has been using the swamp for ahiding-place of late."
"P'raps we'll learn a heap more about it after we stwike the farm we'reheading for," suggested Ted.
"And there, if you look now you can see the house among those trees,with smoke coming out of the chimney at the kitchen end," said Elmer,pointing ahead.
Lil Artha deliberately took chances by removing one hand from thelines, and vigorously rubbing his stomach with it.
"Oh! I know something of what bully suppers farmers' wives c'n serveup," he hastened to say, throwing all the longing he could into looksand words; "and here's hoping we get an invite to stay over there tillmorning. If they are very pressing, Elmer, I entreat you not to hurryus off. Things can wait that long, and we don't expect to do much inthe night-time, you remember."
The patrol leader made no rash promises. He simply smiled, and startedto talk of other subjects; so poor Lil Artha, who did feel so emptyafter such a little lunch by the wayside, was left in suspense.
"What's this farmer's name?" asked Toby.
"Trotter," replied Elmer. "You know Johnny Spreen is really a boundboy, and he has to work for the farmer until he gets a certain age,when he is supposed to be given a sum of money, and be his own boss.That's the law."
"Well, all I hope is that we pick up some decent clue around here,"said Lil Artha; "Yes, and a bully supper in the bargain, that'll fill ahorrible vacuum, and put us all in fighting condition."
Their arrival created something of a sensation. Dogs began to bark,roosters to crow, cows to moo, and even a donkey started to bray in afearful fashion. Immediately Johnny Spreen, the boy who trappedmuskrats in the winter, came running out from the big barn where he wasprobably milking some of the cows, for he held a three-legged stool inone hand as though it might be a weapon of defense.
The f
armer, a long, lanky individual with a keen face, also bobbed insight, holding a currycomb; while at the kitchen door could be seen thebuxom figure of his wife, evidently bound to learn what was happeningeven if her dinner did burn in consequence.
Three tow-headed, wild-eyed little Trotters, who had been playing atteeter with a plank laid over a carpenter's "horse" for a seesaw,ranged themselves all in a row, and gaped their fill at the strangespectacle of a wagonload of boys all dressed pretty much alike.
"Are you Mr. Trotter?" asked Elmer, as he jumped down, and the othercame forward toward him.
"That's my name, son; what fetches the hull lot of you up this way?Ameanin' to camp on the lake-shore, it might be? I've heard about thescouts daown at Hickory Ridge; Johnny yonder's been apinin' to jine 'emthis long time back, but, of course, it ain't to be thunk of, with himso far away."
"Yes, we are the members of the Wolf Patrol, Mr. Trotter," said Elmer,who wanted to make a good friend of the farmer in the start. "I'mElmer Chenowith; perhaps you know my father, or some of the otherfellows' parents."
He thereupon introduced each one of the boys by name, and evenmentioned the fact that the father of this one or that occupied aprominent place in the business or professional world of Hickory Ridgetown.
"We haven't exactly come up here to camp out this trip, Mr. Trotter,"continued the patrol leader, after bowing to the farmer's wife who hadfirst darted indoors to see that her supper was not burning, and thenhurried to join them.
Elmer knew that the truth might just as well come out in the beginningas later. On this account he did not intend to hold anything back, butbe perfectly frank with the owner of the lake farm.
"What might be your object then, son?" asked the tiller of the soil,possibly feeling a bit of natural curiosity in the matter.
"Ask him first of all, won't you Elmer," pleaded Lil Artha, as thoughhe feared lest this important matter be lost sight of in the confusionof affairs; "whether he c'n spare us some eggs, and a few broilers totake into the old swamp with us?"
"I guess ma c'n let you have what you want along them lines," repliedMr. Trotter, "though seems like somebody's been amakin' free with herlayin' hens lately. They keep disappearin' right along. Sometimes Ithink it's a mink that's gettin' 'em, but they ain't any signs of secha critter around; 'cause you know a mink'll kill as many as a dozenfowls in one night, and jest suck their blood."
Elmer exchanged suggestive looks with his mates.
"From what you say, sir," he remarked quickly, "your fowls are carriedoff bodily. Is that it?"
"They jest keep on gettin' less an' less right along," the farmeradmitted. "Me and Johnny here was thinkin' o' settin' up with guns tosee if we could get a crack at the chicken thief, whether he was amink, a badger, or a two-legged raskil."
"That's what we was meanin' to do," agreed the said Johnny, glad tohave his name mentioned in the matter at all.
"Well, we've got a hunch, Mr. Trotter," said Lil Artha, bound to gethis say in the affair, "that we might put you wise about that samethief."
"I'd shore be glad to hear it," declared the farmer; "Johnny here hasbeen asayin' as heow he b'lieves thar's a feller ahidin' out in theswamp, 'cause he seen his tracks. I even reckoned on sendin' for aneighbor o' mine, Bay Stanhope, that's got some hounds used tofollerin' people, an' see if we could run him daown."
"Well, Mr. Trotter, that is exactly what we scouts propose doing," saidElmer. "And now if you'll listen to something I've got to tell, youcan understand what sort of interest we've got in this thing."
So in as few words as possible he narrated the story of how Hen Condithad acted in such a queer way, robbing his uncle and guardian, andactually leaving a silly letter that fastened the crime on his ownshoulders.
"He was seen by one of my chums talking with a strange man just the daybefore this happened," continued. Elmer. "We believe that man was thesame unknown party who has been hiding in Sassafras Swamp for a timepast, and as you've just told us, living off your flock of fowls.Johnny here, down in the hay market, gave me something he picked up inthe swamp near some ashes. Here it is, Mr. Trotter, and all of usbelieve firmly it is part of a steel handcuff which was filed in half,showing that the man must be a desperate character escaped from jail."
At that the farmer's wife uttered a little shriek, and began to lookfrightened.
"Hennery," she told her husband authoritatively, "you go git your gunright away. And Johnny, chain the bull-dog close to the kitchen door.After this I'm meanin' to make sure the bar's in place when I'm leftalone, and Moses kept inside the house along with me."
Elmer guessed that the said Moses must be the bull-dog. He alsofigured that, as a rule, the animal was kept indoors nights, whichaccounted for his not having interfered with the carrying off of thefarmer's chickens.
Mr. Trotter was plainly deeply interested by this time in the storyconnected with the coming of these seven scouts.
"Sure I'll do all I kin to help you land the critters, boys," heassured them. "But that swamp is some big, an' I guess as haow you'llhave all you want to do achasin' through the same. Supposin' naow youlet things rest till tomorry, and make an early start. Mebbe we mightbag the raskils this very night, if so be they try to make another haulon my feathered stock, aimin' to git a turkey this time."
Of course, Elmer could see through a grindstone that had a hole in itscenter. He knew very well that the shrewd farmer wanted to make use ofthem in order to protect his property; but it served Elmer's purposejust as well to readily agree to the proposition.
As for Lil Artha, his eyes were almost popping out of his head withsuspense; he was also licking his lips after the manner of a hungry dogwhen scenting a bone.
"We'll stop over with you then, Mr. Trotter," agreed the patrol leader;"and before morning try to figure out our plan of campaign looking torounding up the chicken thieves who are believed to be hiding inSassafras Swamp."