Rayton: A Backwoods Mystery Part 11

They shook.

"I am greatly relieved," said the Englishman.

"You see, unless I get outside opinion, I am never quite sure if the things I think of all by myself have any sense in them or not. Well, I am mighty glad you see it the same way I do. As soon as Molly told me where she had found the piece of pole, I smelt a rat. Of course I'd never have thought of all that about Maggie Leblanc, except for my thorough belief in d.i.c.k Goodine. That set me to work. Now we had better have breakfast."

Mr. Banks nodded.

"Why don't you set seriously to work to straighten out the marked card business?" he asked.

"I have; but it just takes me 'round and 'round," said Rayton.

They had just finished their breakfast when d.i.c.k Goodine appeared, ready to take them into the woods for a day, after moose. He brought a boy with him to look after the place and the live stock, in case the sportsmen should be kept out all night. The three left the house shortly after seven o'clock.

Early in the afternoon Banks shot an old bull moose carrying a fine pair of antlers. They skinned and dressed it, and hung hide, flesh, and antlers in a tree; they pressed forward, for they were near a great square of barren land, where the chances of finding caribou were good.

They reached the barren, sighted a small herd, and Rayton dropped a fair-sized stag, and after making packs of the antlers, hide, and the best cuts, they struck the homeward trail.

It was dark by the time the tree in which the remains of the moose was hung was reached, so they made camp there for the night. At the first break of dawn they were up and afoot again, and though heavily loaded, they made good time. They halted only half an hour for their midday meal, and reached Rayton's farm shortly after three o'clock in the afternoon. Old Captain Wigmore was there to welcome them. They found him in the sitting room, very much at his ease, with a decanter of the Englishman's whisky on the table in front of him. Rayton laughed good-humoredly, shook his hand cordially, and invited him to stay for the remainder of the day.

"Gladly, my dear boy," returned the captain. He seemed to be in a much better humor than was usual with him. The sportsmen washed, changed, and had a long and quiet smoke, and when the smoke was finished it was time to get the evening meal. Rayton and d.i.c.k Goodine went to the kitchen, and set to work. They were interrupted by Timothy Fletcher, the captain's reserved and disagreeable old servant. Timothy's wrinkled face wore an expression of intense anxiety and marks of fatigue.

"Cap'n here?" he asked, looking in at the kitchen door.

"Yes, he's here," replied Rayton, with a note of sharpness in his voice.

The soul of politeness himself, he could not stand intentional rudeness in others.

"Glad to hear it. I've been huntin' over the hull d.a.m.n country for him,"

remarked Timothy.

"Do you want to speak to him?" asked Rayton.

Before the other could answer, Wigmore himself darted into the kitchen.

"What the devil do you want?" he cried, going close up to his servant, and shaking a thin but knotty fist in his face. "Go home, I tell you."

His frail body trembled, and his very beard seemed to bristle with wrath.

"But--but I thought you was lost," stammered the old servant.

"Get out!" screamed Wigmore. "Go home and mind your own business."

Timothy Fletcher stood his ground for a few seconds, staring keenly into the captain's face. Then, without another word, he turned and walked out of the kitchen. Old Wigmore glared around, swore a little, mumbled an excuse, and followed his servant.

"That old captain is a character," said Mr. Banks. "He's worth watching."

"He's a queer cuss, and no mistake," agreed d.i.c.k Goodine.

"Not a bad sort at heart," said Rayton, dis.h.i.+ng the fried potatoes. "He has had his troubles, I imagine, but when he is feeling right he is a very agreeable companion."

"I like his room better nor his company," said the trapper.

A couple of hours later, when the three were smoking lazily by the sitting-room fire, they were startled by the sounds of a vehicle and horse tearing up to the house at top speed. Rayton and Turk got quickly to their feet. The front door flew open and heavy boots banged along the uncarpeted hall. Then the door of the room was flung wide, and David Marsh burst in. His right arm was bandaged and slung, but in his left hand he held a heavy stick.

"Have you seen that skunk, d.i.c.k Goodine?" he cried. "My camp on Teakettle Brook's burnt to the ground! Oh, there you are!"

By this time Mr. Banks and Goodine were also on their feet. Marsh started forward, with murder in his eyes, and his mouth twisted. Rayton stepped in front of him.

"Kindly remember that you are in my house," said the Englishman quietly.

"Just stop where you are, please, and explain yourself."

"Get to h.e.l.l out of my way!" cried David. "I ain't talkin' to you.

There's the sneak I'm after--the dirty coward who cut halfway through my canoe pole, and then set my camp afire, stores and all! Let me at him, you pie-faced Englishman!"

CHAPTER VIII

RAYTON GOES TO BORROW A SAUCEPAN

"What do you want of me, Davy Marsh?" demanded the trapper. "If you think I cut your canoe pole, yer a fool, and if you say so, yer a liar!"

"And what is all this about your camp?" asked Rayton, wrenching the club from David's hand. "Keep cool, and tell us about it."

"By----!" cried the guide, "I'd knock the stuffin' out of the two o' ye if I had the use o' my arm! You call me a liar, d.i.c.k Goodine? That's easy--now--with my right arm in splints. And as you are so d.a.m.n smart, Rayton, can you tell me who burnt down my camp? And can you tell me who cut that pole? There's a piece of it standin' in the corner--proof enough to send a man to jail on!"

"This is the first I have heard of the camp," replied Rayton, "and I am very sorry to hear of it now. When did it happen?"

"Happen?" cried Marsh bitterly. "It happened this very day. Peter Griggs was out that way with a load of grub for one o' Harley's camps, this very afternoon, and it was just burnin' good when he come to it. Hadn't bin set more'n an hour, he cal'lated, but it was too far gone for him to stop it. So he unhitched one of his horses and rode in to tell me, hopin' I'd be able to catch the d.a.m.n skunk who done it. And here he is, by h.e.l.l!"

"You are wrong there, Marsh," said Mr. Banks. "Goodine has been with us since early yesterday morning, way over in the Long Barrens country--and we didn't get home till this afternoon."

"We made camp near the Barrens last night," said Rayton.

"Is that the truth?" asked Marsh. "Cross your heart! So help you G.o.d!"

"It is the truth," said Rayton.

"d.a.m.n your cheek, Marsh, of course it is the truth," roared Banks.

d.i.c.k Goodine nodded. "Cross my heart. So help me G.o.d," he said.

The flush of rage slipped down from David's brow and face like a red curtain. He moistened his lips with his tongue.

"Then it's the curse of them two marks on the card!" he whispered.

"It's the curse of them two red crosses!"

"Rot!" exclaimed Mr. Banks. "Just because Goodine didn't fire your camp, you jump to the conclusion that the devil did it. Rot!"