by Ron Finch
We were really excited. After all that worrying about not knowing where we were, and the fear we’d had about going in the wrong direction, we felt elated. That forest that had given us a real dose of fear!
“So far, so good,” said Jay. He reached into his knapsack and pulled out a little wooden sign. “It’s time to decorate the tree. After all, it does feel a little bit like Christmas.”
We went over to the tree and attached the sign to it using the hammer and nails we’d brought with us.
Jay and Joel were here, Monday May 21, 1928, the sign proclaimed.
“I don’t see any other signs on this tree,” said Joel, standing back and looking it over, “so I guess we can claim it as ours.”
“I think maybe we should just leave the tree here in the bush for now,” I said, chuckling.
“That wasn’t remotely funny,” said Jay, giving me a look.
We sat down, leaned our backs against our landmark tree, and took another refreshment break.
“I’d like to get up in the tree and look around a bit,” I said after a couple of minutes. “I know there’s not much to see but bush, but since we’re here.”
“I don’t know how you’re going to get up in this tree,” said Joel, squinting up at it. “It’s a big tree and there aren’t many lower limbs we can reach.”
“It’s not as big a problem as you think, Jay,” I answered confidently. “See the tree beside it? It’s big enough that we can climb it and then transfer over to the large tree.”
We put our knapsacks on the ground, as well as the shotgun and our flashlights, then climbed the smaller tree and scrambled over to the big tree. We climbed up to a branch that was large enough to support our weight and high enough to give us a reasonable view of the surroundings. With the help of the hill, we were now up high enough to see past a lot of the neighbouring trees.
We quickly noted that, when we looked back in the direction from which we’d come, we could see nothing but bush. We weren’t far enough up the tree to see back to the farmyard, or even to the rise of the neighbouring road where we’d staked out our baseline the Sunday before. So we looked in the other direction.
“Holy Toledo!” Jay yelled, pointing excitedly.
I looked in the direction Jay was pointing. It took me a moment to figure out what he’d seen, but then I yelled, too: just a couple hundred yards away we could see – just barely – the top of what appeared to be a shack. We couldn’t believe our eyes.
“I think we’ve seen the impossible,” I said. “Your uncle Herbert will be very surprised. He told us nobody’s been in these woods for years. Why would there be a shack way back here where nobody could get to it? Who would put it here? What would they use it for? This just doesn’t make any sense.”
From where we were, we couldn’t see any signs of anybody having been in the area for a long time.
“I don’t care whether it makes sense or not,” said Jay. “It’s part of our adventure today. We’d better go over and take a closer look at that shack.”
We descended the tree safely, put on our knapsacks, and grabbed our flashlights. I picked up the shotgun and we headed towards the shack.
It was fairly easygoing to get there. A lot easier than the first part of our journey. The trees seemed to thin out as we moved towards the shack, and as we got closer we noticed that a little bit of the brush had been cleared away from around the cabin. Some of the longer grass and brush had been tramped down a bit, probably by horses, so we decided to be cautious.
We got as close to the shack as we could without being easily spotted and then agreed to wait for about 10 minutes to listen and look around carefully before proceeding. The cabin was not large. It looked to be only about 12 feet by 15 feet. It was about 3:15 PM, so if we were going to look, now was the time. We had just enough time for a quick look inside. We’d have to start back soon if we were going to meet the 4:30 PM deadline.
Nothing seemed amiss, so, feeling brave, we approached the shack.
It wasn’t fancy. There were two windows: one at the front, and one on what I supposed was the east side. We couldn’t look through the windows, though, because they’d been battened down from inside. Primarily, I supposed, to keep out any friendly wildlife. The only easy way to see inside was to open the door.
There was a hole in the door about 2 ½ feet from the bottom edge, about the size of a penny. Some twine ran through the hole, made a loop, and hooked over a nail that had been hammered into the outside wall about 2 inches from the door.
“Looks like an old-fashioned door latch,” said Jay.
“Inexpensive but effective,” I replied.
I unhooked the twine and Jay nudged the door open with his foot.
The moment he’d done so, we wished we’d left the door closed. The smell was overpowering. With the door closed, the smell had been trapped inside, waiting for us.
We both turned and threw up. Then, when we’d recovered, we put our hands over our noses and entered. We couldn’t have walked away from that cabin at that moment if we’d wanted to; something compelled us to go in. When our eyes adjusted to the light, we saw a body on the floor. It looked like a woman. I didn’t want to cry, but I was so overwhelmed it was hard not to.
Jay and I quickly went back outside, shaking and gagging. I picked up the shotgun, loaded a shell, pointed the gun up at the sky, and pulled the trigger. There was a loud, explosive bang but we hardly noticed.
“Take a look at your watch,” said Jay. “You shoot again in 15 minutes.”
JAY’S PARENTS, BRAD and Carolanne, were sitting on the front porch of the farmhouse with Herbert and Emeline, having a pleasant chitchat. Emeline had baked some butter tarts the previous evening, and the tarts, along with the tea and conversation, were making for a nice afternoon in the country.
Carolanne and Herbert were brother and sister, so there was some talk about that family: the usual topics, like who is getting married, who had died, who had been born, and who was having marital trouble. Those topics, although very interesting, were finally depleted, and they moved onto what construction projects Brad had lined up for the summer. The next subject on the agenda was the boys and their project. As if on cue, there was a distant bang. It was not loud, but everybody stopped and looked at each other.
“Herbert, is that what I think it is?” said Brad.
“Yes, that sounds like the shotgun,” said Herbert.
The women looked at each other, obviously upset.
“What does it mean?” said Carolanne.
“It means the boys have run into a problem,” said Brad. “That shot was a signal. It means we should mount a search party to go out and see what’s happened to them. They could be lost, or they could have encountered some other problem. We know they aren’t injured, at least.”
“How do you know that?” both women asked almost simultaneously, worried expressions on their faces.
“We only heard one shot,” said Herbert. “For an injury, they were to fire two shots. There’s no point imagining it to be a worse situation than it might be. Brad and I will put on our walking boots, grab our flashlights, and grab a couple of shotguns. We’ll take that stretcher I’ve got stored in that shed area attached to the back of the summer kitchen, too, just in case. It’s been waiting there for an emergency. I don’t think we’ll need it, but we’ll take it anyway. You two ladies need to stay right here. It’s about 3:45 right now. Give us two hours. That should give us enough time to get there and back, especially if the boys blazed a good trail. If we’re not back by 5:45, then you need to contact the law in Chaseford.”
With that, Herbert went into the house, got his walking boots, a couple of shotguns, and a couple of flashlights. Brad went to the car, rummaged around for his walking boots, and put them on. Herbert also brought out a couple of long-sleeved shirts and gave one to Brad. It was a little small on Brad, but it was better than not having your arms covered in the bush. There were lots of hungry mosquitoes and black flies in
that bush waiting for supper. The two men put their hats on, waved goodbye, and set off down the trail that Joel and Jay had marked out just a couple of hours earlier.
It wasn’t easy going, but the boys had done a good job marking the trail. About 10 minutes into their foray, Brad and Herbert heard another gunshot.
“Looks like the boys followed your advice,” said Brad. “That was a good plan.”
Herbert smiled and they both continued down the trail.
They pushed forward through the undergrowth until they reached the deer trail and there Herbert and Brad were momentarily stumped. Then they noticed that a yard or so up the trail a tree had been marked by one of the boys with a knife.
“They must have used this deer trail,” said Brad.
They were only on the deer trail a couple of minutes when they heard a third shot. Just a few minutes later, they noticed the ground rising and could see that the bush was thinning.
As they came out of the bush, they spotted the big tree. They approached the tree and read the sign that Jay and Joel had posted.
Brad smiled faintly at Herbert and said: “We know they got this far, anyway. But where the heck are they now?”
Brad and Herbert were concerned. They had arrived at the tree but there was no sign of the boys.
They walked around the edge of the clearing looking for any signs that would show them which way the boys had headed. They didn’t have any luck finding the next part of the trail, so they decided to sit and rest. They’d had an easier time than Jay and Joel following the trail through the bush, but it had still demanded a lot of exercise, along with the odd curse. The men figured that if they waited for the next gunshot it would help them determine which direction to go. They were chatting only a couple of minutes when they heard a gunshot not very far away. They got up and headed down the other side of the hill in the direction the shot had come from. The bush had thinned out a lot here, making travel much easier, and within five minutes they burst into an open area. At about the same time they saw both the boys and the cabin behind them. The two boys hurried over to them, their faces pale. They didn’t look well, but neither boy seemed to be injured.
“What in heaven’s name is the problem?” Brad exclaimed. “It wasn’t an easy trip out here.”
Jay grimaced and seemed to be on the verge of tears. “There’s a body in the cabin,” he blurted.
Everybody went quickly to the cabin. Joel and Jay waited outside while Jay’s dad and Uncle Herbert entered. They were only in there a few seconds before they came back out and promptly, and in an undignified manner, emptied their stomachs.
“That’s a terrible stench in there,” Uncle Herbert said, coughing. “We need to call the police. We have to head back to the farmhouse. Right now.”
The return trip through the bush was much quicker. Now that much of the undergrowth along the way had been tramped down a bit, you could almost see a trail. It still wasn’t easy going, but what was missing was the fear of not knowing where you were going or what you might find when you got there. Still, they couldn’t shake the sense of dread they felt about finding that body in the cabin. Had the person died there of natural causes or was it something more sinister? They didn’t know. But they did know that they had to get the law involved.
The trip back only took them about 25 minutes. They arrived at the farmhouse just after 5:30 PM, and ahead of their deadline, but even so they could see that Emeline and Carolanne had been fretting the whole time they’d been gone. When all four of them walked out of the bush under their own steam, there was a noticeable look of relief on the faces of both women. Until that moment, they’d been sure someone had been badly injured and were very happy to see that everyone had come back in one piece. But those smiles and happy glances disappeared when they found out what the boys had discovered.
“We need to phone the police right now,” said Herbert, heading into the house.
“It’s a holiday, Herbert,” Emeline hollered after him. “You’ll have to be patient.”
They’d had a telephone on the farm for a couple of years now. Emeline had recently read in the local newspaper that there were now one million telephones in the Dominion of Canada. That worked out to one telephone for every 10 people, and they were still not to be found in many farmhouses. They were on a party line, so Herbert knew that by the time he contacted the police there would be other interested parties in the neighbourhood. Not everyone respected your privacy on the party line.
Herbert had to phone to Chaseford because it was the closest municipality with a police force. Chaseford had a chief of police, a sergeant, and three constables. Today was holiday Monday and Herbert knew that it might take more than one call to locate the chief of police. As it turned out, the chief, Bob Petrovic, was at home. He and his family were having a family dinner to celebrate his mother’s 75th birthday.
Herbert gave the chief a brief outline of what had happened. The chief, who had about 25 years of police experience, had seen bodies before and he responded quickly.
“I’ll be out there within the hour, with my constable, Jake Smith,” he said.
The chief told Herbert that he planned to go to the cabin that evening. At this time of year, there was still quite a bit of light until at least 8:30 PM. They would just have to sit tight until then.
Herbert went back to the porch and brought everybody up to date. Emeline immediately got up and went to the kitchen. With Carolanne’s help, they rummaged around in the kitchen and prepared a quick supper. After their trek through the bush, the men were hungry. They figured they had about an hour to eat and rest before the chief arrived.
THE LOCAL POLICE HAD two vehicles: a new Ford Radio Motor Patrol car, and a Studebaker police paddy wagon. The local town council had, over the last few years, been reluctant to make these purchases; but once they had, the mayor of Chaseford was always proud, on any occasion, to proclaim they had an up-to-date police force with up-to-date vehicles. So, as we all sat down to supper, we expected to see the chief and Cst. Smith pull into the farmyard in the patrol car.
The supper was good: mashed potatoes and roast beef left over from Sunday’s supper, along with some fresh vegetables right out of the garden. Of course, we had apple pie for dessert. Nobody makes it better than Emeline. With the meal over, and without a democratic election, Jay and I were selected for KP duty while everyone else went out to relax on the porch and await the two policemen. Emeline had left a full kettle of water heating on the stove, so as soon as we had the table cleared off and things returned either to the icebox or the cupboards, the hot water was ready for dishes.
About 10 minutes after Jay and I finished the dishes, the chief of police and Cst. Smith arrived. The two policemen got out of the car and joined us on the porch. No introductions were necessary; everyone was previously acquainted.
“We don’t have a lot of time before dark,” said the chief. “So you’d better tell me what happened again. Then take us to the body.”
Jay and I told the chief about finding the cabin in the woods and then finding a body in the cabin.
“Why did you go in the woods?” said the chief. He seemed perplexed by this. “I’ve never heard of anybody going into this bush. What was the motivation?”
Jay and I explained our trigonometry assignment and the chief said: “You sure picked a humdinger of a landmark.”
The chief told us he might have more questions for us later, but that we would have to get going since it was already 7:15. There was not a lot of daylight left.
This time we brought a couple of lanterns with us as well. They would be more effective than the flashlights if dark came before we were ready for it. We got through the bush pretty fast this time, and after 20 minutes of following a now well-trod path, we arrived at the big tree. In another five minutes, we were down the hill and standing in front of the cabin. We stood back and let the chief and the constable enter. They were quickly back outside.
Though they’d covered their n
oses with their handkerchiefs before entering, the chief exclaimed loudly: “That was a hell of a smell!”
“It’s almost as bad as the time we found Mark Peters dead in that room he rented above the barbershop,” said Cst. Smith. “Remember that, Chief? He’d been closed up in there for about a week in the summer. I still think that was the worst.”
“Jake, as my constable, you now have the unpleasant duty of going back into the cabin,” said the chief. “Prop those inside window coverings up. We need to get a little fresh air in there.”
“Do we need a stretcher?” said Herbert. “Brad and I brought one with us when we came looking for the boys. It’s still here.”
“We’re not going to touch the body,” said the chief, shaking his head. “The coroner will have to come out here tomorrow. He’ll likely have help and a stretcher with him. You might as well take yours back with you tonight. I think we’re done here, except for Jake. Sorry Jake, but you’ve been elected. Someone has to stay here to protect the body. There’s screening in the windows, so I don’t think animals are going to get in there easily.”
“I wasn’t planning on a sleepover,” said Cst. Smith, grimacing. “That floor will be awfully hard.”
“I have a sleeping bag he can use,” said Herbert.
“I think we should all head back to the farm now,” said the chief. “The body will be okay until Jake gets back with the sleeping bag.”
We arrived back at the farmhouse just as the sun was setting. Herbert got the sleeping bag for Jake, and the constable, with lantern and sleeping bag in hand, got ready to head back to the cabin. It wasn’t a trip I would have wanted to make, but Cst. Smith didn’t seem worried about it.
“I have a light and my gun and overtime pay headed my way,” said the constable. “If I take my time, I’ll be okay.” And with that, he departed.
For Jay and me, it had been an incredible day. But it was not a day we wanted to repeat and we were glad it was finally over.