CHAPTER EIGHT
A Sudden Attack
For the first fifty miles of the trip the roads were hard-surfaced andTim sped along at a fast pace, the long, powerful coupe eating up themiles. But after that it was harder going. The roads were poorly markedand badly rutted. Tim was forced to drive well under thirty miles anhour and as he neared the valley the country grew more rugged, the roadturning and twisting, climbing laboriously up one hill and thenskidding down another.
He lost almost half an hour when he ran into a local shower and had toget out and put on the chains. Once or twice the big coupe skiddedbadly but he managed to hold it on to the road. At dawn he was deepinto the valley of the Cedar, the narrow road was dry again, and hetook off the chains.
There was no bridge across the Cedar at Auburn and Tim pulled the coupeup on the left bank of the river and waited for the arrival of theramshackle ferry.
It was seven o'clock before the old barge, powered by an automobileengine, paddled its way across the broad stream and nosed up to thelanding stage.
"How much to go across?" asked Tim.
"Dollar for a car that size," replied the riverman.
Tim handed over the fee and drove the coupe aboard. The engine of theferry sputtered and then settled down to its task as the paddlesflashed in the morning sunlight.
"Business been pretty good?" Tim asked.
"Only fair. Usually don't get anyone on the morning trip but yesterdayI had a car almost as large as yours."
Here was what Tim had been fishing for. He was on the right trail and afew more questions assured him that Grenville Ford had driven directlyto Auburn after leaving Atkinson.
When the ferry docked on the Auburn side, Tim went to the generalstore. He was known there for, two years before, he had helped save thevillage, marooned by a flood, by bringing food and needed medicine. Atthe store he learned that Ford had stored his car in the village,rented a boat with an outboard motor, laid in a supply of food and atent, and started down river the day before.
"Have any idea where he was going?" asked Tim.
"He didn't seem to want to say much about himself," said thestorekeeper. "Appeared to be one of those close-mouthed fellows."
Tim went across the street to the village's one hotel and thereobtained an excellent breakfast. Greatly refreshed, he went down to theriver bank to make more inquiries. In front of one shanty was the sign,"BOATS FOR RENT," and to this place Tim went at once.
The owner was a white-haired riverman and when Tim introduced himself,he found the boatman willing to talk.
"I remember the fellow well," said the riverman, "but he didn't saywhere he was going. Just asked to rent a boat for about a week and heleft a cash deposit, which is all I require, seemed to know what hewanted for he picked out a good boat and started down river at once."
There was little to be learned in that information and Tim triedanother tack.
"Any strangers moved into the valley in the last year or two?" he asked.
The old man shook his head. "All the movin' that's done is the otherway. Keeps up much longer and there won't be anybody in the valley andno Indians to give it back to."
"I just though there might have been some new people came in--maybe asailor or two."
"Nothin' to sail around here except the clammers and they don't sail.Only man around here that's ever seen big water is Crazy John Boggs."
"Who's Crazy John?"
"He came in here about nine or ten years ago and went down river to anisland where he does a little clammin' and pearl huntin'. He's alwaystalking about revolutions and sunken treasure and such as that. He's ascrazy as they make them."
Such talk might sound crazy to the people of the valley but to Tim itwas another link in his story.
"How far down river is it to Crazy John's?" asked Tim.
"About thirty miles and bad water all the way. He's way off the mainchannel and he don't like company. Keeps a couple of regular man-eatingdogs. Some folks say he's got mines planted all around the island so hecan blow up anyone he doesn't want around. No one from here's ever beenon the place."
"Here's one that's going," said Tim. "Fix me out with a boat and anoutboard. I'll be back as soon as I can get some grub at the store."
Tim felt jubilant as he walked up from the river bank. Ford, or "Mr.Seven," was only twenty-four hours ahead of him.
The sound of an airplane motor drummed over the village and Tim lookedup to see the Jupiter swinging around to land in the only field thatcould be used. It was a mile outside the village and he knew he wouldhave plenty of time to secure his food and a couple of blankets beforeRalph arrived.
"Fix me up with enough food for about four days on the river," Tim toldthe storekeeper, "and I'll want a couple of good, warm blankets. Iexpect the nights in the valley are a little chilly."
"They're all of that," agreed the storekeeper. When the food andblankets were ready, Tim paid the bill and left the store. At the farend of the street Ralph was hurrying in to town and Tim waited for him.
"Starting out as a peddler?" asked the newcomer.
"Just getting ready to start down river. Come on and help me stow thisstuff away."
The riverman had a sixteen foot flat-bottomed boat ready for Tim. Alight outboard had been fastened to the stern and an extra can ofgasoline had been placed in the boat.
"What's the idea of the river trip?" Ralph wanted to know. Tim relatedwhat he had learned in the village and Ralph nodded his agreement tothe plans.
"You stay here and keep the Jupiter ready to fly any minute," said Tim."When I get back I'll want to start for Atkinson as soon as possible."
"Everything will be ready. Here's the extra expense money Carson sentfor you." Ralph handed out $50 and Tim paid the deposit necessary forthe boat.
"There may be some fellows in here a little later in another airplane,"he told the riverman. "They're apt to inquire about Crazy John. Do yousuppose you could forget all about him?"
"After what you did for us when we had the flood I could forget a wholelot," smiled the owner of the boats.
"Sladek and his men won't be here for a couple more hours," chuckledRalph. "What I didn't do to their motors last night doesn't amount tomuch. I had a hard time to keep from laughing this morning. Poor oldCarl at the airport was the goat. They accused him of failing to keep aproper watch over their plane. We'll have to square it with him someway."
Tim obtained detailed instructions from the boatman on the way to CrazyJohn's island.
"Don't try to sneak up," was the riverman's final word of caution, "orhe'll get you sure. Just keep off shore in plain sight and do somelusty hollerin'."
Tim thanked him for the final words of advice, said goodbye to Ralphand started to shove off when his friend stopped him.
"Got a gun?" he asked.
Tim shook his head. "I won't need one. I don't think Crazy John is asbad as he's pictured and I'm sure I won't have any trouble with Ford."
"But there's Sladek and his bodyguards. If you run into them, you mightget in a jam. Better take this."
Ralph handed Tim a heavy, snub-nosed automatic.
"It's loaded and here's two extra clips. Take care of yourself."
"See you in a day or two," said Tim as he shoved away from the landingstage. Turning on the ignition he gave the starter rope on the outboarda jerk. The motor responded with a steady putt-putt-putt and Timstarted the journey down stream to the island abode of Crazy John.
Ralph watched the boat until it was lost from view behind a curve inthe broad river. Then he turned and went back to the village, hadbreakfast, obtained gasoline, and walked back to the Jupiter where hereplenished the fuel and sat down in the shade. He was going to havelots of nothing to do until Tim returned.
On the Cedar, Tim's small craft surged steadily down-river. There wasno regular navigation on the stream and the channel swung from one sideto another.
Black snags stuck their dange
rous heads above the surface of the waterand occasionally a broad sand bar ran almost across the stream. Findingthe channel was no easy task and Tim realized that it might be at leasttwo days under the best of circumstances before he returned to thevillage.
The Cedar turned and twisted, first on one side of the heavily woodedvalley and then on another. Bayous opened off on long, quiet stretchesof back water and once in a while he could see the mouth of sometributary sneaking in around a bluff.
There was no sign of human habitation and he felt immensely lonely. Hemight have been the first white man down the stream and he would nothave been surprised to have rounded a curve and sighted an Indianvillage on the next strip of sand.
The day was warm and if his mission had not been so urgent, he wouldhave fully enjoyed the trip. But there was a tension that gripped himand drove him on at full speed. He wanted to be at Crazy John's wellbefore sundown.
At noon Tim estimated that he was two-thirds of the way to hisdestination. Slowing down the motor, he dug into his provisions andmanaged a snack of lunch. He drank deeply from a jug of cool water theriverman had placed in the boat and felt greatly refreshed. The strainof a night without sleep and the hard drive from Atkinson was beginningto tell on him.
Tim wondered when the amphibian would soar overhead. Ralph certainlyhad done an excellent job in putting the big craft out of commission.
Another hour slipped by. He was nearing the bayou where he would turnaway from the main river and seek out the island of Crazy John. Theboatman had told him to look for an island with a monster cottonwood,split by a bolt of lightning. When he came to that island he was totake the bayou to the right and continue taking every possible turn tothe right. Crazy John's island was a third of a mile from the mainstream. Tim remembered the warning to shout lustily at intervals afterhe left the main channel.
His sturdy little craft swung around a broad curve, dodged the end of aprojecting sand bar, slid between two snags, and straightened out downstream again. Tim's heart leaped.
A half mile down river, standing on an island in the center of thestream, was a giant cottonwood, its top split asunder by lightning. Thehuge tree towered above everything else in the valley. There was nomistaking it and Tim looked for a bayou to the right of the island.
From behind him and sounding above the steady throbbing of the outboardcame the thrumming of airplane engines. Tim glanced back. Theamphibian, flying fast and low, was coming down stream.
Tim wondered if the pilot of the big ship would try to land on theriver. The Cedar was wide enough but the danger of snags was a veryreal one. A sunken log could rip out the bottom of the plane and pullthe entire craft to the bottom of the river.
Fascinated by the beauty of the big amphibian, Tim watched it approach.The roar of the motors filled the valley with their noise. The craftwas less than a hundred feet above the river and coming directly towardTim.
Looking up, the reporter could see a man leaning from a window on theright side of the cabin. There was something black in his hand.Splashes of water appeared beside the boat. The seat beside Timsplintered under the impact of a bullet. Then the amphibian was roaringdown stream.
Tim was cold with anger. The attack on him had been wanton. There wasonly one explanation. They had taken him for Grenville Ford. The soonerhe could get away from the open reaches of the river the safer.
He jammed the throttle of the outboard on full and his boat leapedahead. Risking a sand bar, Tim cut the comers close and before theamphibian could swing back upstream he was safely hidden under theshelter of heavy foliage from the bank.
The Treasure Hunt of the S-18 Page 8