CHAPTER XIX
A SPLASH OF WATER
Much to Clay's amazement, his captor kept to the east following aridge of rocks from which both rivers might be seen in the distancewhenever the foliage did not intervene. After walking half a mile ormore, the fellow turned his steps into a narrow gully and soon entereda natural cavern before which a campfire had been built.
"Now, you pretty little creature," he said, addressing Clay, "you'regoing to be tied up here and left until you return the map which wasgiven to you by mistake."
"A map of what?" asked Clay instantly.
"A map of this country," was the short reply.
"I'm not giving out maps at present," the boy answered.
"Perhaps you will be, after you get good and hungry," snarled theother.
"In the first place," Clay said, "I haven't got the map. I couldn'tget it for you if I wanted to. The boys wouldn't give it up."
"So you admit that you've got it?"
"I did have a rough drawing of this country," was the reply, "but itdidn't seem to mean much to me."
"That's the document we want," the outlaw said, "and the quicker yougive it up and get out of this district, the safer your hide will be."
Before Clay could make any response the man who had set off in pursuitof Alex came wrathfully into the cave. One hand was bleedingprofusely, and there was a long cut on his left cheek. His clothingwas disarranged, showing every evidence of a physical struggle.
"Where's the kid, Ben?" was asked.
The man's reply was a volley of epithets and profanity.
"You never let him get away from you, did you?" asked the otherangrily. "You might bring him in in your pocket."
"You couldn't bring him in in a dray," answered Ben. "You might aswell try to wrestle with a bumble bee. I got a grip on the littleimp's collar, but before I could do a thing, he had a knife out. Andthen I got this," laying a dirty finger on a dirtier hand, "and this,"pointing to the bleeding cheek. "And the next I knew, he was out ofsight in the jungle."
"You're the brave boy!" snarled the other.
"Look here, Steve," Ben said, "if you think it's such a fine stunt toseize a Chicago newsboy, you just go and try it yourself. I've hadenough of it. And that's no fairy tale."
Ben threw himself angrily on the floor of the cave, took a bottle ofliquor and a roll of white cloth from under a fur robe which lay in acorner and proceeded to cleanse and bind up his wound. Clay watchedhim with a smile on his face. Steve was scowling frightfully.
"You needn't look so pleased over it, young feller," the outlaw said."We'll get that little imp, yet. And we'll get your boat and yourwhole crew. And if we have much more trouble, we'll start a cemeteryright here."
Clay made no reply at the time. He was wondering just how much theoutlaws knew of the map. It seemed to him that the person who haddrawn the first one might easily draw a second upon the loss of thefirst. He could not understand why the outlaws were making suchstrenuous efforts to secure the document when they might have procureda copy.
"What was it you said about a map?" the boy finally asked of Steve whosat now scowling at Ben. "Where did the map come from?"
"It came from a blooming Indian," was the sullen reply.
The fellow answered the question so promptly that Clay decided that hewas merely a cheap tool in the employ of some master mind.
"Well," the boy went on, "why are you bothering us about it? Why don'tyou go and get him to make another?"
Steve hesitated and Clay listened very impatiently indeed for hisanswer. Finally the outlaw spoke:
"Blest if I know," he said. "We were told to get the map and that'sall we know about it."
"And if you can't get it?" asked Clay.
"Then all we've got to do is to start a graveyard. If we can't get it,no one else shall use it. Mind that!"
"How long have you been waiting here for the _Rambler_ to come backdown the river?" asked the boy.
"Look here," replied Steve, apparently regretting his previousloquacity. "I've known a whole lot of boys to get along in the worldwithout asking so many questions."
As he spoke he arose, went to the mouth of the cavern and glanced out.Ben followed him with the one eye which was free of the bandage, butdid not arise. Directly a stone broke loose from a side of the gullyand went pounding down to the rocky bottom. Then a low whistle washeard.
"Come on in," shouted Steve. "We did our part. What about you?"
The man who entered was roughly dressed. His face was covered by aweek's growth of beard. His long black hair hung straggly about hisears. Yet, after all, the carriage of the head and body was not thatof a riverman. Clay sat looking at him for a long time wondering wherehe had seen him before. He was certain that he had seen him before.Strive as he might, however, the boy could not associate the figureand pose with any scene in his past life. The man advanced into thecave and looked about.
"Where is the other boy?" he asked sharply.
Steve threw out a hand to indicate flight and snapped his fingerssignificantly. The newcomer frowned.
"And so you let him get away, did you?"
"Ask Ben about that," Steve replied, pointing to the bandaged face.
In spite of the newcomer's evident disappointment, a smile came to hisface as he looked toward the wounded man.
"He's a bloomin' bumble bee!" growled Ben.
"And it seems that he stung you with steel," said the newcomer. "Bravemen you are, to let a kindergarten kid get away with you!"
"What I say is," Ben answered, angrily, "that you can go and get himyourself. This here beauty mark I've got is enough for me."
"Don't get excited," smiled the newcomer. "It will all come out rightin the wash. We'll get them all, in time."
Clay began to remember the voice.
"I have heard it before somewhere," he mused. "This man is not anoutlaw in the common acceptance of the word. He is probably the manhaving this very delectable enterprise in charge."
Then he remembered the scene on the street in Montreal, and the storywhich had been told him by the campfire up the St. Lawrence came backto his mind.
This man might be the Lawyer Martin who had been referred to by thefarmer. The lawyer, it had been stated, was apt in private theatricalsand of pleasing personality. This man was disguised so far as clothingwent, and his conversation showed that he was tactful and understoodhow to keep on the right side of the men with whom he mingled.
The more the boy studied over the problem, the more certain he becamethat the man who was handling the unlawful enterprise, designing tokeep the Fontenelles out of their rights stood before him.
Presently Lawyer Martin, if it was he, turned a pair of keen yethalf-humorous eyes in the direction of the boy.
"Did you have a pleasant trip up the river?" he asked.
"Fine!" replied Clay. "Plenty of good sport."
"If you had asked my advice," the other said, "you would haveproceeded straight up the lakes from Ogdensburg. It would have beensafer."
"If safety was the only thing we figured on when we started away," theboy answered, "we wouldn't have started at all. We would have remainedat home and gone to bed."
"You seem to be quite a bright boy," the other suggested. "Why don'tyou give up the map turned over to you by mistake, and go on aboutyour business? That's what you ought to do."
"Why don't you get another map?" asked Clay.
"Because," was the reply, "the old Indian who made the one you havewas drowned on the night he turned it over to you."
"I'll tell you what I'll do," Clay said, "you come on board the_Rambler_ with me and we'll give the map to Captain Joe, and thenwe'll all go together and deliver it to Fontenelle. It seems to belongto him."
"I think you'll change your mind," replied the other.
After a short whispered conversation with Steve and Ben, the man leftthe cavern. Clay would have given a good deal for some knowledge as tohis objective point. He believed that the outlaws had a base ofsuppl
ies other than the cavern on the peninsula, and he was wonderingif the boys on the _Rambler_ would be able to discover it.
After a time Ben began drinking from the bottle of liquor he had drawnfrom under the rug, and Steve, seeing that the fellow was drinkinghimself into insensibility, left the cave, first seeing that Clay wastied hand and foot and gagged with one of his own handkerchiefs.
The boy's position was an uncomfortable one. He moved restlesslyabout, rolling toward the entrance as if in quest of fresh air. Benarose and stood watching him drunkenly.
"You're not so worse," the fellow cried. "If I had my way, I'd get outof this mix mighty quick. I'm a kind-hearted man, kid! The drunker Iget, the kinder I am."
Clay was on the point of suggesting that he drink the remainder of theliquor in the bottle, so that he might be kind enough to untie him,but did not do so for obvious reasons.
The boy was in hopes that Ben would become too intoxicated to pay anyattention to his movements, but he did not do so. Instead, he filled acob pipe with villainous tobacco and sat down at the entrance to thecavern within a few feet of where the boy lay.
During all this time, the boy was wondering if Alex had gone back tothe _Rambler_ or whether he had trailed on after the men who hadattempted his capture. In the latter case, the boy was evidently notvery far away. He listened intently for some indication of the boy'spresence, but none came. He wondered if the boys on the _Rambler_would make an effort to find him before night set in.
And so, gagged and bound, he spent a long, painful day. No one came tothe cave, and Ben was his sole guardian. The man became talkativeafter a while and discussed the streets of Chicago, which he seemed toknow well, but became silent whenever an incautious word regarding thepresent situation came to his lips.
When darkness came, Steve and two more burly ruffians made theirappearance. They uncovered a box at the back of the cavern and,reaching in, drew out bread and canned fruit and vegetables. As thefour sat feeding like a drove of swine, Ben observed Clay's eyes fixedhungrily on the food.
"Why don't you give the boy some of the chuck?" he asked, angrily.
"Here, kid," he added, taking the handkerchief from Clay's mouth,releasing his hands, and passing him a loaf of bread and tin of beef,"just help yourself to this table d'hote dinner."
Steve and the others snarled out their objections to this procedure,but Clay was finally left to eat his scanty supper in peace.
After the men had finished eating, they arose and threw their cans andbottles into a shallow annex to the cave on the south.
"I'm great for keeping things in order," grinned Ben, giving a tintomato can a particularly vigorous kick. "I always like to see thingskept decent."
The can bounded against the wall, fell to the floor and rolled down adark incline, and Clay's heart beat into his throat as he heard thesplash of water.
The Six River Motor Boat Boys on the St. Lawrence; Or, The Lost Channel Page 19