The Great Oakdale Mystery

“All right,” agreed Fred, putting the newspaper into his pocket.

Their lunch was opened up and placed on the table. Two old boxes served them as chairs. The warmth of the fire made the camp quite comfortable, and its light was sufficient for their needs. Sitting there and chatting after the manner of bosom chums, they thoroughly enjoyed their supper.

After supper there was much to talk over, things of mutual interest which kept them for a time wide awake and in excellent humor. As it was required, they placed fresh wood on the fire, reserving the heavier sticks for the long hours of the night, when they would need a slower blaze.

The guns were looked over and fondled affectionately, while they discussed their hunting experiences, laughing with relish over blunders and failures which had seemed most annoying at the time of their occurrence. They examined the decoys Hooker had borrowed, making sure they were properly “strung” and ready for setting. Football and school affairs also furnished topics for chatting and laughter and the expression of more or less dogmatic opinions. At times in the lulls of their talk they heard the night wind in the trees outside, and occasional puffs coming down the chimney blew a little smoke back into the camp, the odor of which did not, however, become strong enough to be offensive.

Behind them the firelight flung their shadows, huge and wavering, against the camp wall, and, looking round once by chance, Sage was startled to observe those shadows hovering there like something silent and sinister and menacing. Although he did not refer again to the strange man Roy had encountered, he was wondering who that man could have been.

“Whoo!” cried an owl from the blackness of the woods.

Their chatter grew less; at last it ceased. They sat silently gazing at the fire, with its bed of glowing coals. Hooker moved, stretched and yawned.

“It’s me for the sleeps,” he announced drowsily, producing a dollar watch and beginning to wind it. “We’ve got to be up and in that blind ready for business before peep o’ day, you know.”

“I’m ready to turn in,” said Fred.

“Fellow who sleeps on the front side of the bunk will have to replenish the fire once in a while. We can change round in the night and take turns at it. How are you about waking up?”

“Pretty good. I’ll take my turn first.”

Some heavy logs were placed on the fire, and Roy rolled himself into his blanket, an example which Sage soon followed. In a few moments Hooker was sound asleep, as his breathing indicated, but for a long time Fred lay thinking and wondering. He could not rid himself of the conviction that the discovery in that old camp of the newspaper containing the account of Gentleman Jim’s jail-break bore a significance unexplained and uncomprehended. If that paper had not been left there by Piper, who had left it?

“Whoo!” again cried the owl.

CHAPTER XI.

THE HIDDEN SPORTSMEN

Taking turns, the boys rose several times during the night and replenished the fire. At best, the bough bed was none too comfortable, but toward morning both lads slept soundly for some time.

Awaking suddenly after this period of slumber, Sage lifted himself to his elbow and listened, impressed by the hazy conviction that he had been aroused by an unusual sound. The fire had sunk to a mass of coals and embers, from which emanated a faint glow that barely reached across the stone hearth of the fireplace. Beyond that dim gleam of light the interior of the camp was wrapped in dense darkness. The wind no longer roamed amid the treetops, and not even a breath came down the chimney to disturb the gray ashes in the fireplace.

Fred’s heart thumped annoyingly, while his ears were reaching out for a repetition of the sound that had awakened him; and, when he had begun to think it must have been a creation of his imagination or dreams, it came again.

It was like footsteps – stealthy, cautious footsteps, which, however, seemed to move a bit uncertainly in the darkness. It seemed like one or more persons walking in the woods a short distance from the camp and occasionally stumbling a bit, although moving slowly and with considerable caution. The sounds were receding.

“It must be some straying animal,” thought Fred.

Fainter and fainter grew the sounds. Once or twice there came a cracking, as of dead branches beneath a heavy foot, and at last the listening lad heard something that sent a shock through him. It was like the suppressed murmur of human voices, and was followed immediately by a low, soft, short whistle.

Sage grasped Hooker and gave him a shake.

“Hey? What is it?” mumbled Roy, awakened.

“Hush!” breathed Fred excitedly. “There’s someone prowling around this camp. Don’t make a noise. Listen.”

Breathless, they listened for a full minute, but now the woods seemed silent and lifeless, and not a thing could they hear.

“Guess you’re mistaken, Fred,” said Roy in a low tone. “You must have been dreaming.”

“I wasn’t dreaming,” asserted Sage positively; “I never was more wide awake in all my life. Keep still a little longer.”

For a long time they remained silent, gradually growing tired and cramped by the rigid tensity of their bodies.

“They’ve gone,” decided Sage at last.

“They?” questioned Roy. “Was there more than one?”

“Two, at least. I heard them talking.”

“Oh, say, Fred, you must be mistaken. Who would come prowling around in these black woods at this hour?”

“I haven’t an idea who it was, but I’ll stake my life on it that it was somebody. Nothing in the world could convince me that I was mistaken.”

“Oh, well, if you’re so positive – But it seems ridiculous, impossible, preposterous. It’s pitch dark, and no one would be wandering through these woods under such circumstances.”

Fred threw off his blanket and got up. “I don’t blame you for thinking so, and I would say the same if I had not heard them. What makes it all the more unaccountable is the fact that they were sneaking. They were using the utmost caution in their movements, Hooker, and when a person sneaks he’s up to something.”

“Perhaps,” said Roy, with an attempt at persiflage, “it was their design to murder and rob us for our vast wealth.”

“Whatever their design may have been,” said Sage, putting some small dry wood on the coals of the fire, “it was not honest and open. People do not creep around through the night like cut-throats unless they’re up to something that won’t bear inspection.”

“If I didn’t know you as well as I do,” said Roy, “I’d say you had a bad attack of nerves. What time is it, anyhow?”

A little flame leaped up from the dry wood, and by the light of this Sage looked at his watch. “It’s almost five o’clock,” he answered in surprise.

“Jingoes!” exclaimed the other boy, rising with a bound. “It’s time we were getting out. With sunrise an hour away, we’ve got to do some tall hustling.”

Fred agreed to this, and, although still disturbed and perplexed over what he had heard, he imitated Roy in losing no time about the preparations to set forth. They pulled on their boots, gray sweaters and coats, and gathered up the guns, ammunition and decoys. Then the door was opened, and they went out into the blackness of the last hour of night. The sky must have been overcast, for above the treetops there was no gray hint of light to suggest the coming dawn. The air was still and impregnated with the coldness that suggested Thanksgiving, turkey, plum pudding and skating.

“I know the best way,” said Hooker. “Follow me close.”

Even though Roy knew the way, as they proceeded toward the pond Sage was impressed by the conviction that they made at least double the noise that had been made by the unknown prowlers. Reaching the pond, they hurried forward toward the blind, but only for Hooker, they would have passed it. Ankle deep, they waded out through the swishing grass and reeds, and found the old raft where it had been left.

“Only one of us can work on the raft,” said Roy. “You take the guns into the blind, while I set the decoys.”

With no time to waste, Roy worked as swiftly as possible. From the blind Fred could see the dark figure of his chum, kneeling on the raft, as he spread the decoys out so that they would float upon the water in a natural manner and anchored them with the weights. As soon as this was done, Hooker poled the old raft back into the cover of the reeds and hurried to join Sage.

“Barely made it,” he chuckled. “There’s one thing we have to thank your prowling friends for; if we’d slept half an hour longer, it’s likely we would have gotten out here too late for the first flights. It’s getting light now in the east.”

It was true that far over the eastern end of the pond a dull, grayish light was beginning to make itself apparent low down upon the horizon, and as this slowly spread it was reflected on the glassy, unrippled surface of the water.

“Get ready for shooting,” said Hooker eagerly, as he broke his gun and thrust two shells into the barrels.

“I’m loaded up already,” stated Fred, settling down with his repeater in a position which would enable him to shoot toward the decoys as well as watch the open stretch of the pond, up which the birds were expected to come from the eastward.

Hooker knelt and tried aiming over the top of the blind, swinging his gun to follow the movements of some imaginary ducks.

“All right,” he laughed softly; “let ’em come.”

With each passing moment the grayness in the east continued to spread, until they could see the wooded outlines of the shores, bordered by deep shadows. Morning did not break with a blush, but seemed to awaken reluctantly and heavily, like a person aged and weary. Its chill bit their noses, and would have benumbed their fingers, only for the heavy protecting gloves they wore.

Suddenly Fred gave a low, electrifying hiss. “Birds!” he whispered, snatching the loose glove from his right hand. “Here they come!”

Their nerves atingle, they crouched low, peering forth from the blind. Against the eastern sky they could see some small, black, swiftly moving specks, which they knew were ducks coming up the pond and doubtless headed for the feeding grounds at the western end. The guns were held ready for quick use, while the boys watched those black specks coming nearer and nearer, skimming through the air slightly higher than the treetops on the shore.

“They’ll come in here sure!” breathed Hooker. “Be ready to nail them when they settle. Fire when they discover the decoys aren’t the real thing and start to rise again.”

But barely had he uttered the words when, from a mass of swamp bushes on a low point that thrust itself out into the pond a short distance away, two puffs of smoke leaped upward, followed by the reports of two guns, and, short-stopped in their flight, two of the ducks came tumbling downward to splash into the water. Immediately, with quacks of alarm, the others rose higher and whirled away. A third shot was fired from the point, but apparently it was a clean miss, as not one of the frightened and fleeing ducks betrayed a symptom of being hit.

Thunderstruck, Sage and Hooker stared dumbly toward the cover from which the unknown hunters had fired. After a time Roy savagely exclaimed:

“What do you think of that! Wouldn’t it kill you dead!”

“It killed our chance at those birds,” returned Fred, as he regretfully watched them disappearing above the tree tops. “Who the dickens can it be?”

“We ought to find out pretty quick. They’ll have to pick up those two ducks.”

Eagerly and wrathfully they continued to watch, and after some moments they saw a small object moving out from the point toward the floating ducks.

“They’ve got a retriever,” growled Sage, with increased disgust. “They’re lying low and sending the dog to bring their game.”

“Confound their hides!” raged Hooker. “They’re going to spoil our fun, just as true as you live. I’d like to punch their heads!”

“It would be a great satisfaction,” said Sage bitterly.

“Look here, old man,” said Roy, smitten by a thought, “there are your sneaking prowlers. They are the gentlemen who woke you as they passed the camp. I’ll bet anything they had just come in by the old wood-road.”

“I’m inclined to think you’re right,” admitted Fred. “But why were they so careful about making a noise? Hook, they must have known there was someone in that camp.”

“Wouldn’t surprise me if you had stated the reason for their caution. Furthermore, they must be wise to the way the ducks usually fly here, and they have the advantage of us by hiding on that point.”

One after another, the dog retrieved the dead birds and carried them to the point, finally disappearing from view.

“If some of the birds will only keep far enough from that point, we may get some shooting yet, old man,” said Roy hopefully.

In a short time another flock, larger than the first, was seen coming up the pond, and, to the great satisfaction of the boys, they were flying over the exact middle of the water, and would therefore pass beyond gun-shot of the unknown hunters, unless they should change their course.

“It’s our turn now,” exulted Roy. “I think that bunch will come in here. Something doing in a minute or two, old chap.”

There was – something tremendously provoking; for, as the flock came opposite the low point, both of the unseen sportsmen fired, although, with any reasonable amount of judgment, they must have realized that there was not one chance in a thousand that they could make a kill. Those shots, however, were sufficient to cause the flock to swerve, swing about in a half circle, and go speeding off into the distance.

Hooker said something violent, while Sage ground his strong teeth together.

“The chumps! The miserable, sneaking idiots!” raged Roy. “If they have a bit of sense in their bone-heads, they must have known they couldn’t start a feather at that distance. Why do you suppose they were foolish enough to try it?”

“I can’t imagine any reason, unless they were determined to spoil our chance,” answered Fred, who was now furious enough to fight. “If they keep that addle-pated business up, we won’t get a shot this morning.”

“Slim chance of it now, anyhow. It’s broad daylight, and we’ve lost our opportunity at two flocks. There may be other birds coming in, but those that have heard the firing will be likely to keep away from this end of the pond. It’s rotten, that’s what it is.”

“With good luck, we might have knocked down half a dozen out of that last big bunch. Whoever those chaps are, they’re poor sportsmen.”

“They’re nasty sneaks; that’s my opinion.”

In the course of ten minutes three ducks, evidently a remnant of a flock, came winging close to the point, and with four shots the hidden hunters tumbled the trio of birds into the water. One was wounded, for it flopped about after splashing into the pond, but soon another shot from the bushes finished it. Then the dog swam out and did the work of retrieving.

“It’s all off,” sighed Sage. “Our morning’s sport is ruined.”

“Hardly a doubt of it,” agreed his companion. “That is, as far as shooting ducks is concerned. I propose to have a look at the gentlemen who have tricked us in this brilliant and commendable manner. They aren’t going to get away before I see them and tell them a few things. Come on; we can gather up the decoys later.”

“You don’t think it’s any use to wait a little longer, Roy?” asked Fred, loath to release the skirts of hope.

“Not a bit. Besides, I’d rather face those chaps now than to kill one or two stray ducks.”

Leaving the blind, they hurried to the shore and turned their footsteps toward the point upon which the rival duck hunters were ensconced. Realizing it was wholly probable that their movements had been observed, they lost no time in plunging forward through the woods and thickets, fearing that the ones they sought might take alarm and depart.

Bursting forth from the bushes side by side, they halted as they reached the point, beholding two boys leaving the shelter in which they had been hidden, burdened by guns and the slain ducks and followed by a water-spaniel. These boys stopped as Sage and Hooker appeared before them.

One was Jack Nelson; the other Sleuth Piper.

CHAPTER XII.

DISAPPOINTED DUCK HUNTERS

“Well, I’ll be switched!” exclaimed Hooker, in mingled astonishment and anger.

Nelson, whose dog had done the retrieving, beamed pleasantly on the disappointed and wrathy young sportsmen. “Good morning,” he said. “You’re out for a little shooting, I see. Had any luck?”

“Yes – rotten,” flung back Hooker. “Confound you fellows! you spoiled the morning for us.”

“Really?” chirped Nelson, in pretended surprise, elevating his eyebrows. “How was that?”

“You know how,” grated Sage hotly. “You did it purposely, too. But I suppose it was that pestering, sly, conceited, cheap imitator of Sherlock Holmes who is really responsible.”

Piper looked aggrieved. “If you’re referring to me,” he said, “permit me to inform you that I’m not at all pleased by your insulting language.”

“I didn’t intend you should be,” Fred flung back; “and you’d be less pleased if I could find appropriate words to express my opinion of you. It was a miserable, low-down trick you fellows played on us this morning, and you know it.”

“Now hold on,” Nelson commanded, his cheerful manner vanishing. “We won’t stand for any of that. We’ve as much right to shoot ducks on this pond as you have.”

“Of course we have,” Piper backed him up; “but Sage seems to have an idea that he owns the earth – that’s what’s the matter with him.”

Fred levelled his finger at the speaker’s face. “You have annoyed me to the limit recently,” he grated. “After getting a crazy notion into your head, you’ve dogged me around constantly. You found out that Roy and I were coming here to shoot ducks this morning, for, without suspecting your design, he let you pump him. Straightway, in a highly commendable manner, you arranged to sneak in here some time in the night, and you planked yourself on this point, where you could bang away at the ducks as they flew past, knowing perfectly well that every time you’d fire into a flock you’d frighten them so that they would not come to our decoys. A fine piece of work!”

“I say, Sage, you take it hard, don’t you?” laughed Nelson. “Even if we knew you were coming to the lake, we had a right to do so ourselves. And as long as you had not possession of this point, which is the only place, besides the old blind, from which any successful shooting can be done at this end of the pond, it surely was our privilege to grab it. Come, come, don’t be a squealer. I’ve always considered you game, but you’re showing another side.”

“Once,” said Fred, “you deliberately fired at a passing flock when you must have known the birds were beyond gun-shot. If you did not do that to frighten them from coming to our decoys, why did you do it?”

“Yes,” cried Hooker, “explain that.”

“We took a chance on bringing one down, that’s all,” said Nelson.

“Oh, don’t bother yourself to explain,” Piper put in quickly. “It’s no use; they won’t believe you. We’ve got to get home. Let’s not stand here chewing the rag.”

“A good punching is what you deserve,” snarled Hooker, “and I think we could hand it to you, too.”

“Permit me to express doubts,” said Nelson. “If you want to try it, you’ve a splendid opportunity.”

It was a tense moment, for both Fred and Roy had been striving hard to hold themselves in check, and the insolent defiance of the other pair was almost too much for them to swallow. It was Sage’s level head that averted the clash. Knowing someone might be seriously hurt in a hand-to-hand fight, and remembering that the first football game of the season would take place that afternoon, he put forth a hand and grasped Hooker’s sleeve.

“We won’t scrap with them,” he said in a low tone. “They have shown what they are; let them get as much satisfaction out of it as they can.”

Piper, who had not really relished the prospect of a fist-fight, braced up wonderfully, while Nelson laughed again.

“You’re showing a little sense now,” said the latter, “which, doubtless, you’ll realize when you come to think it over. The joke is on you, and you may as well accept it in that light. It’s too bad you didn’t get even a shot at anything, but you can’t expect to go home loaded with game every time you hunt. Some rather pretty birds we have got, eh?” He held them up tantalizingly, which caused Hooker’s teeth to snap together and his hands to clench.

“Come, Roy,” urged Sage, “let’s go back and gather up our decoys.”

Reluctantly Hooker permitted his chum to swing him about, and he muttered under his breath:

“Sometime I’ll even it up with this pair. They’ll get what’s coming, all right.”

As they were returning for the decoys they heard for a time the voices of Piper and Nelson, who seemed to be in high spirits, for they burst into frequent peals of laughter. Finally the irritating sounds died out as the triumphant duck hunters receded into the distance, following the old wood-road toward the main highway.

Grimly the disappointed lads gathered up the decoys and returned to the old camp. Sage was the first to show signs of reviving good nature, which symptoms at first caused Hooker more or less irritation.

“Perhaps you can take it that way, Fred,” said Roy; “but I can’t. It was a dirty piece of business, although it may seem very shrewd and humorous to Piper and Nelson.”

Their blankets being rolled up and everything made ready for the appearance of Abel Hubbard, they still had some time to wait for the village constable, and this time they spent discussing the affair. Suddenly, as if struck by a thought, Fred clapped his hand to his pocket and drew forth the remnant of a newspaper that had been found in the camp.

“By Jove!” he exclaimed; “that’s queer. I wish I’d questioned Sleuth about it.”

“What are you driving at now?” asked his companion.

“It just occurred to me that, after all, this paper may have been dropped here by Piper, although I don’t quite understand how it could have been. If so, he must have come here recently – as recently as yesterday or the day before.”

“Nothing to it,” declared Hooker positively. “He was at school both those days, and he has practiced regularly with the teams every night. He had no time to come here.”

“Unless he did so in the night – night before last. But I don’t see why he – ”

“You couldn’t hire him to come here alone at night,” asserted Hooker; “he’s too big a coward. A great detective should have plenty of courage, but a rabbit is a lion compared with Sleuthy.”

“He may have had someone with him.”

“If so, it was some fellow we know, and we’ll find out about it. But I don’t think there’s the remotest chance that it can be so, for he would have announced the fact when we caught him face to face a short time ago. It would have served as an excuse for his presence this morning. Why, he could have claimed that he had come here ahead of us to look the ground over and plan for a duck hunt. He could have accused us of being encroachers. Forget it, Fred; Sleuth never dropped that paper in this camp.”

“Which,” said Sage regretfully, “leaves us just where we were before, up against a mystery. I’m not going to puzzle my head over it any more.”

“A sensible decision.” nodded Roy. “I’m inclined to fancy you’ve placed too much importance on that particular scrap of a newspaper.”

Shortly before nine o’clock, as they were sitting on an old log in front of the camp, they heard the creaking of Hubbard’s wagon, and directly the constable appeared with the conveyance.

“Mornin’, boys,” he saluted. “What luck?”

“Nothing but bad luck,” answered Hooker. “Some other chaps spoiled our shooting for us, and we didn’t get as much as a feather.”

“Sho! Now that’s too bad. I cal’late I seen them other chaps. Met ’em on the road almost to town. They was Jack Nelson and Billy Piper, and they had some birds. Seemed to feel purty nifty and chipper, too, for they laughed when they spied me. Told me I’d better get a stouter wagon to haul in my load, but I didn’t know just what they meant.”

“Those chaps have a perverted sense of humor,” rasped Roy. “They’ll get it taken out of them some day. Come on, Fred, let’s throw our dunnage aboard and set sail. I’m anxious to get home to rest up before that game this afternoon.”