The Auto Boys' Mystery Part 17

Closer inspection revealed, even to Anderson's thicker brain, that the paper shred had undoubtedly been part of a bank note of some kind. Being wet, it was easily torn from the parent bank note in the rough handling the money had undergone. At least such was the conclusion drawn by all three after a short inspection. Paul was greatly excited.

"What did I say when Phil found that old suit-case? Murky must 'a' put the money in something else. It must 'a' been all wet. He must 'a' had that money here. What did he do with it?"

"I'm goin' to hunt for it right now!" said Chip now all eagerness.

"First we find Murky," interposed Nels. "Vere he be, dere ve find money."

"But Murky didn't have no load on him when he tackled us!" was Chip's objection.

"I goin' make light," said Nels. "You look roun'. Mebbe fin' money. Mebbe fin' nothin'. I bane go fin' Murky. Make heem tell. Yah!"

And Anderson, who still had some use of his big hands, picked up a hatchet left by the fugitive in his haste and clumsily began to split some dry pine which had long lain under shelter, doubtless left there by former campers or hunters. For several minutes the boys ferreted their way into or through the neighboring crevices among the jumble of rocks, even using part of Anderson's splinters to aid them; but nothing did they find.

"Now we go," said Nels at last. "You boys bane tired mooch?"

The truth was all were pretty tired, but not one would acknowledge the fact. Nels, used to long fatigues, and crippled besides, made both Paul and Chip reluctant to own up that they needed sleep more than further travel.

The upshot of all this was that, in a short time, all were following the mud trail left by Murky in his flight but a brief spell back. The fire had been replenished, so as to give them some clue as to where they were, should they wish to return. Chip bore the torch; Paul carried an armload of fat splinters; while Nels, plodding between, bent his woods-sharpened eyes on the tracks that were plain enough yet, for the rain had at last ceased.

After leading them a sinuous path through the blackened wilderness for perhaps a mile, the tracks turned sharply to the right and upward along a more gravelly slant until what seemed the backbone of a wooded ridge was attained. Here the fire in consuming leaves, fallen branches and most of the thinner undergrowth, had thus swept from the gravel beneath all the surface refuse. Probably this was accomplished before the rains began.

In consequence the tracks, growing more and more imperceptible, finally vanished entirely.

"I bane tired," and Nels sat down, shaking his great head discouragingly.

"Gee whiz!" gurgled Jones. "I almost wish I was back in Staretta in my little bed 'stead of way out here where I don't even know where I am or how I'll get out again."

But Chip was made of sterner stuff. Seeing his companions were in the dumps, he perked up and sniffed the night air expectantly.

"What's the use of gittin' discouraged? Mornin' 'll soon be here. We kin see that fire yet, can't we? Les' go back and git some sleep."

"No use of dat." This from Nels. "It bane very late now. We git fire here.

Sleep a bit."

But it was concluded not to make a fire, as it might give the man they were hunting a clue as to where they were. So the three prepared to pa.s.s a comfortless night. Fortunately it did not rain any more and, after a fas.h.i.+on, they managed to endure the rest of the night. At last, cool and cheerless, the dawn came, and with the first glimmer the three set out along the ridge. Nels kept to the summit, while the boys patrolled the sides, keeping an eye out amid the softer mud and ashes for any sign of foot tracks.

A mile or more might have been traversed thus when, at a shout from Chip, the others hastened to him and saw that the boy had detected distinct foot tracks leading away towards the east.

"Fresh ones too," said Paul, pointing. "And--look there. Criminy! I'm going to take a look inside that hollow log."

He darted towards a rusty looking tree trunk over which the fire had swept, leaving naught but the solid wood cylinder of dead beech. Most of the shrivelled bark, moss and dead leaves were reduced to ashes. These the rain had made into a moist, blackish gray mush. At the larger end were plain signs as if some heavy body had crawled inside and perhaps out again. Nels, more up to woods lore, looked, sniffed, fingered clumsily, then delivered himself.

"Murkee, he bane sleep here yoost li'l whiles. Git oop soon. He bane gone a'retty--yuss!"

"Gone--yes!" exclaimed Paul. "But where did he go? How did he get away so all-fired soon--hey?"

Here another call from Chip solved the question. Not far below the hollow log began a tiny slough which presently widened out until footprints were discernible in the mushy tussocks of what had before been a fringe of marsh-gra.s.s. It was Chip who led the way now, and eagerly pointed out further developments in the hunt.

"Do you reckon this really is Murky we are following?" asked Paul while Nels, tired, hungry and sleepy as well, dragged along dumbly.

"Pshaw!" exclaimed Paul, who was bent on solving the apparently unsolvable. "Who else would it be way out here in this wilderness? We wouldn't be here if it wasn't for Murky: Murky wouldn't be here if his own work hadn't driven him into it. Let's go on."

And on they went, the trail growing plainer as the slough widened and deepened. Finally they came to a fallen tree extending from one side of the slough to the other. The scorched, blackened, rain-soaked top reached to their side. Half way across the branches ceased and nothing but a slimy black trunk reached to the other side. Already they were about to pa.s.s this when Chip, who was in the lead, suddenly stopped.

"I don't see no more tracks," said he, seemingly nonplussed.

At once Nels came forward, took one look about, then pointed at a sooty limb projecting landward from the trunk.

"W'at de matter wid dat?" he exclaimed. "She bane go dat way."

"Sure--you're right!" cried Paul, instantly comprehending. "But how will you get across, Mr. Anderson?"

CHAPTER XV

MURKY AT BAY

Chip Slider, always willing when there was something to do, caught hold of the limb that showed signs of recent use and swung himself up into the top. Paul Jones followed, but Anderson shook his head as he tried to raise his half useless arms. Without a.s.sistance he could not make it. Yet it was evident that the fugitive Murky must have taken that road.

Meanwhile Chip, landing on the other side after a slippery pa.s.sage on the log, saw the tracks leading straight off through the woods as if Murky well knew what he wanted and where he was going. Paul, in crossing, noticed midway of the log certain muddy smears as if someone had either fallen off or had climbed up on the log about midway of the slough. This did not much impress him at the time. Hastening on to join Chip, the two then perceived that Nels was still on the other side.

"By cripes! Anderson can't make it, Chip! We ought to have waited and helped him over. That log's mighty slippery. Looks as if someone had fallen off already. What had we better do?"

"Say, Paul, this trail leads right back in the direction of them rocks where we spent last night. What do ye think of that?"

But Paul was now calling to Nels on the other side. He had heard what Chip said and shouted to the big Swede its import. At this Nels solved the difficulty in a few words, directing the boys--if they were sure of this--to follow the new trail while Nels would go back to the head of the slough and rejoin them somewhere near the foot of the rocky ridge they had previously traversed.

Still the trail was puzzling. Both lads found not only a fresh trail leading ridgeward, but signs of an earlier trail, now much rainwashed, that led towards the slough, not away from it as the fresh trail did.

"Tell you what I believe, Paul," remarked Chip after studying the situation over. "When Murky first struck out he was trying to get clear off, probably east somewhere. He must 'a' come this way, tried to cross the run here and couldn't. He might 'a' fell off that log where you saw them stains.

"What would he do then? Why, strike for higher ground; git to some place where he could make a fire. That took him back to where he run against us. And if it hadn't 'a' been for Nels, I ain't sure but what he'd a got the best in that mix-up. What do you think?"

What Chip thought was indicated by his pointing finger, for he was ahead, following the trail, now growing more and more indistinct. Paul came up and looked at the faint outline of tracks now turning abruptly up the rocky ridge.

"Murky--if 'twas Murky--is goin' right back where he and us spent last night. Now what would he be doin' that for? There hain't but one reason that counts," affirmed Chip. "He's hid out that money somewhere--don't you reckon?"

All at once the significance of this appealed to both the boys. As with one accord they eagerly resumed their trail hunt, but it was with such scant success that Paul finally shook his head in discouragement. Chip, now on hands and knees, stooping, at times almost crawling, was inclined to give up too.

"You remember how we lost that trail before on this ridge and only found it when we separated, taking in the lowland on either side?"

"Yep! That's what we'll have to do now. Wish Nels was here. Wonder where he is now?" And Paul peered in the direction of the slough.

With one accord both lads waited a few minutes, but seeing no sign of the vanished Swede, it was agreed that Chip should take one side of the ridge and Paul the other, and at each mile of progress or thereabouts, should let each other know. If, meanwhile, one should strike the trail again he should call or go in search of the other.

Possibly Paul had gone a mile, when a rumbling, heavy voice halted him.