Danny Orlis and the Angle Inlet Mystery

by Bernard Palmer

  Danny came back just then with a well-worn leather Bible. "You take this, Mr. Thunderbird," he said. "It's my Bible, and it's sort of marked up; but you can keep it to read until you get one of your own."

  "You mean you give me this Bible?" Rick asked.

  Danny nodded, smiling. It was the Bible his mother had given him for Christmas two years before, but Rick had to have a Bible. He had to have God's Word so he could read and study.

  "But, my young one," Rick said, "old Thunderbird never go to school. He don't know how to read."

  "Then I'll come over and read to you every once in a while. How'd that be?"

  For answer Rick reached out his hand and shook Danny's hand.

  Mr. Orlis came out presently and suggested that Rick stay and visit awhile, and the boys take him home in the boat toward evening.

  "Yes," Rick said, "I have much to talk with you about."

  When the two men were gone into the house, Danny said, "Wasn't it wonderful that Rick Thunderbird took Christ as his Saviour today? We've been praying for him at family devotions for a couple of years."

  "I don't know what was so wonderful about it," Bob said shortly. "He's nothing but a dumb Indian."

  "In God's sight," Danny replied, "he's more than just a dumb Indian. He's just as important as you are or I am."

  "Do you know something?" Mike put in suddenly. "Jack and Cliff haven't stuck their noses outside their cabin all day, except to go in and eat breakfast."

  Danny looked out the window at the cabin across the way. "That's right, and they've got the blind drawn tight. There's something going on, fellows, something more than just a treasure hunt."

  "You might be right," Mike said. And, dropping his voice to a whisper, he went on. "I'll bet they're working with that funny-looking machine you saw this morning, Danny."

  Just then Jack came out onto the porch and looked around. Danny let go of the curtain and stepped back quickly. Mike and Bob pressed close beside him, peering out through the thin curtain at the stranger on the porch of the neighboring cabin.

  "Those guys are scared to death they're being watched," he said. "There's something going on over there. I think we ought to get to the bottom of it."

  "Me too," Mike said.

  "But how?"

  "That's what I want to know," Bob put in. "I tangled with that Cliff once, and I—I thought he was going to knock my head off."

  "That's right," Danny went on. "Whatever we do we've got to be careful."

  "B-b-but what if we get caught?" asked Bob.

  "We'd just better not get caught," Danny replied.

  God sent His Son for me?

  Chapter Six

  Search Begun

  DANNY, BOB AND MIKE sat together in the little one-room cabin looking at one another. Danny was toying absent-mindedly with a short piece of rope he had picked up off the floor.

  "Boy," Mike said. "I'd give a lot to know what Cliff and Jack are really up to."

  The young woodsman tied a bowline in the piece of rope and untied it slowly. Then he said, "You know, I think we ought to go over and pay those two guys a visit."

  "You mean g-g-go right in their cabin a-and talk to them?" Bob asked.

  "Sure, why not?" Danny said.

  "B-b-but there's n-n-no telling what they'll do if they get on to us," Bob went on, stuttering in his excitement. "And believe me, they're plenty t-t-tough! I know!"

  "We won't be doing anything except paying them a little social visit," Danny explained. "They can't do anything about that. And we can get some straight dope that way. All we have to do is to go in and talk to them about fishing and the lake, and stuff like that, and really keep our eyes and our ears open."

  "Well," Bob said, "I'll go, if you'll do the talking."

  "O.K.," Danny replied, "let's go."

  When they were just outside the cabin door, Danny whispered, "Let's be as quiet as we can going up on the porch. Maybe we can get a look at something through the window like I did this morning."

  They stepped quietly onto the porch and up to the door. The blind was drawn tightly, but by stooping a little Danny could see inside. He sucked in his breath sharply and straightened up so suddenly that it startled Mike and Bob.

  "What's the matter?" Mike whispered tensely. "What'd you see?"

  Without speaking Danny stooped again while his companions stood there trembling. After a moment or two he straightened once more and knocked firmly on the door.

  There was a scurrying inside. The sound of sliding chairs and crumpling papers, and the heavy thud of something being thrown under the bed came to them through the closed door.

  Danny knocked again.

  "Just a minute," Jack called. "We'll be with you in a minute."

  There was a long, tense silence.

  "Come on," Bob whispered. "Let's get out of here!"

  But Danny grasped him by the arm. "S-s-sh," he cautioned, "or you'll give it all away."

  It was another couple of minutes before Jack came to the door. He opened the heavy, homemade door just wide enough so he could see who was there. "What's on your mind, Boys?" he asked. He was careful to stand squarely in the way so they couldn't see into the cabin.

  Danny eyed him critically. It seemed to him that Jack was pale and that a thin line of sweat stood out on his forehead. "We came over to visit a little while," Danny said. "We didn't have much to do."

  "I'll tell you, fellows," Jack said. "Cliff's got a busting headache. You'd better come back tomorrow." With that he closed the door and bolted it on the inside.

  "Well, what do you know about that?" Bob exclaimed.

  "I'll tell you, though," Danny said loudly. "A bad headache isn't anything to laugh about. It can really lay a fellow out." With that he took Bob and Mike by the arm and hurried them off the porch and down the narrow lane. "They'll be watching us," he said softly. "Act like we're just fooling around."

  They stopped at the boat that was tied to the dock in front of their cabin and bailed the water out of it, then sauntered over to where Danny's dog, Laddie, was lying. Mike threw a stick, and the dog went bounding after it.

  "What'd you see?" Bob asked excitedly. "What'd you see over there?"

  "I—I don't know for sure," Danny told him. "That funny contraption I saw this morning was in a corner half covered up with a piece of canvas. And both Jack and Cliff had some big square piece of paper that looked awful old, and they were drawing something on the paper."

  "Drawing something?" Bob echoed. "What could they find up here to draw? Especially inside like that and with all the blinds pulled! I always thought an artist had to be looking at what he was drawing."

  "What they were drawing is just what I don't know for sure," Danny went on. "But it looked an awful lot like they were making maps."

  Mike and Bob both stared at him. "Making maps!" Mike repeated. "What would they be making maps for?"

  "That's something we've got to find out," Danny went on slowly. "When a fellow hunts for treasure he follows a map. He doesn't draw one."

  They all three looked at one another, and then over at the little sleeping cabin where the mysterious strangers were staying.

  In a few minutes Mr. Orlis came out and told Danny that Rick Thunderbird was ready to go back home.

  "Would you get the gas, Mike?" Danny asked as he lashed Rick's canoe to the aluminum boat securely with a piece of strong rope. "I think we'll need a little more gas than what's in the tank to go clear over to Monument Bay."

  Both Mike and Bob went for the gas while Danny pulled the boat and canoe alongside the dock and held them until Rick got in.

  The old Indian was smiling broadly, but he did not say much until they were almost to his island. "I tell your dad about Rick finding Jesus," he said.

  "That's fine," Danny replied.

  "You come over and read to Rick by-and-by," Thunderbird went on. "You read him the Bible so he know how to live and what to do."

  "Sure," Danny grinned.

  "You won
't forget?"

  "No," the young woodsman said, "I won't forget."

  "Now, Rick going to do something for you." The smile faded from the Indian's face. "You asked Rick about map and treasure. Rick say he not know what you talk about. I lie. For long time I know, but I vow never to tell white man. But Rick tell you, because you help Rick find Jesus."

  Danny cut the speed of the motor so he could hear the aged Indian's low voice, and Bob and Mike crowded close, listening breathlessly.

  "Old Gibb McCloud say he have map," Rick Thunderbird said. "Before he die he say he have map. And Gibb always tell truth."

  "You mean the old Gibb who used to live on Harrison Creek? The one who died last fall?"

  Thunderbird nodded seriously.

  "Are you sure?" Mike asked, his voice tense.

  "Gibb was honest," he said simply.

  "Do you know where he kept it?" Danny asked. "Did you ever hear Gibb say?"

  "No," the old Indian said, shaking his head. "That is for you to find."

  "But if you knew he had it," Bob blurted, "why haven't you gone looking for it?"

  Rick stared at him momentarily. "What would I do with gold?" he asked.

  When they had finally started back toward American Point, Bob said excitedly, "Now we've really got something to go on."

  "That's right," Danny said. "And, believe me, we'll get down to Gibb's old place on Harrison Creek the first thing in the morning. This is really a good break."

  "Yeah," Bob said, "if Rick wasn't stringing us along. You don't suppose he was, do you?"

  "No," Danny said. "Rick wouldn't do that, especially now that he's a Christian."

  "Oh, now, that isn't going to make so much difference in that old Indian," Bob said, scoffing. "I know he gave out with the secret of the map a little while ago, but that was because he's still a little soft from you working on him with that religion stuff. He'll be as ornery as ever tomorrow."

  Before Danny could reply, Mike said seriously, "No, Bob, I don't think so. Something happened to old Rick Thunderbird today. I—I don't know for sure just what it was, but he's different, and he's going to stay different. I'd almost stake my life on that."

  "That's right, Mike," Danny said. "The Bible tells us that when we're born again we become new creatures in Christ. That's what happened to Rick. And that's what can happen to you and Bob if you'll only let Jesus come into your hearts."

  Both of the boys looked away quickly, and for a long while they were silent.

  The next morning was blustery and cold with a biting west wind and just a hint of rain that every now and then skipped in great droplets across the water. The boys had planned on getting an early start for Gibb's deserted cabin over on Harrison Creek in spite of the threatening weather, but Mr. Orlis had some work he wanted them to do. It was almost noon before they finished with it.

  "Well," Danny said, as they filed out onto the dock, "I guess we're all set for Gibb's place."

  "Yeah," Bob said disgustedly. "We're all ready, and your dad's got one motor torn apart and the other one out on the lake. We can't go anywhere."

  "Sure we can," Mike said. "We can row."

  "Row, humph! That's work," said Bob.

  "It's too far to row a boat," Danny put in, "but we can take the canoe and paddle."

  "I don't see why he couldn't have picked some other time to tear that outboard motor apart," Bob muttered to himself as they got into the canoe.

  "We're headed for that treasure map," Mike said softly, his voice tense with excitement. "That's the main thing. I'd be happy even if we had to walk."

  "Me, too," Danny said.

  "Do you suppose we'll find it?" Mike asked as Laddie jumped nimbly into the canoe and lay on the bottom with his soft nose touching his young master's knee. "Really find it, I mean?"

  "I—I think we will, if somebody else hasn't beat us to it," Danny replied.

  Although they paddled as fast as they could, it was almost two hours later that their canoe touched shore in front of Gibb's deserted cabin. For a couple of minutes the boys stood there looking about, without speaking.

  All the windows had been broken out of the little square house, the porch was leaning badly and the back door was hanging by one hinge. The woodshed was in even worse repair, and the roof on the barn had fallen in.

  "Boy," Mike said, "it doesn't look like there could be any treasure map here, does it?"

  "Well, come on," Bob said excitedly. "Let's get going. This place gives me the creeps."

  "I think we'd better go through the house first," Danny said. "He'd be most apt to hide the map in the house."

  "H-how long did you say it has been since old Gibb died?" Bob asked as they stopped on the porch.

  "I can't remember exactly," Danny said.

  "Where'd they bury him?" Mike put in.

  "Over on the hill—" Danny began. But his voice choked off suddenly. "What's that noise?" he asked.

  What’s on your mind, Boys?

  Chapter Seven

  Mike Makes a Decision

  "WHAT'S THAT?" Danny asked again. For a moment or two the boys stood there beside the ramshackle old house, listening. "It—it sounds like an outboard motor," Bob said hoarsely.

  Danny took a step or two toward the wide stream.

  The low, throbbing hum was louder now. There was no mistaking it. It was an outboard motor coming toward them, fast.

  "Somebody's coming!" Danny exclaimed, starting to run toward the water's edge. "We've got to get that canoe out of sight."

  "T-there isn't time," Bob said, looking wildly about as though he was searching for a place to hide. "We—we'll never make it!"

  "What do we want to hide for?" Mike wanted to know. "We haven't done anything."

  "No," Danny explained as he jumped nimbly into the canoe and reached for the paddle. "But we're hot on the trail of the Du Bois map. If we're caught snooping around over here, somebody's apt to get wise."

  "Yeah," Bob said, "and if that somebody happens to be Cliff and Jack, it might be too bad for us, besides."

  "Do—do you really suppose it's them?" Mike asked.

  "It sure could be," Danny told him, paddling the canoe downstream a dozen yards or so to a thick clump of brush that grew out over the water. "That sounds an awful lot like a Lawson motor. And Dad's the only one who has one on this side of the lake."

  "They—they wouldn't really do anything to us with your dad along," Bob stammered uncertainly. "Would they, Danny?"

  "Of course not."

  "But Uncle Carl won't be with them all the time," Mike put in. "If they were to see us here, they might dope something out and wait until they catch us alone. That's the thing that's got me worried."

  "Well, don't just stand there. Do something!" Bob cried. "They're just around the bend! Hurry up!"

  Danny was working rapidly but calmly. He tied the light rope securely to a small tree so the current wouldn't sweep the canoe away, pulled the branches down over the trim craft to hide it completely and scrambled to his feet. "There," he said. "That's done."

  "Come on!" Bob shouted. "They'll be here in a minute!" He was already halfway to the house.

  Mike and Danny started to run toward the dilapidated old barn with Danny's dog, Laddie Boy, right beside him.

  "This way!" the young woodsman shouted. "If they stop here at all, the house'll be the first place they'll go!"

  The three of them crowded through the narrow barn door and, breathing heavily, flopped onto the rotting hay.

  "We made it," Bob gasped. "We made it."

  Danny placed his finger across his cousin's mouth in warning. Bob scowled and pulled away. For a couple of minutes he lay there without speaking, his breath coming in long, dry gasps. Laddie seemed to sense what was happening and pressed close to Danny, his soft nose finding his master's hand.

  "Whoever it is, is stopping out front," Mike whispered as the sound of the motor quit abruptly.

  "I'm going to take a look," Danny said, getting to his fe
et and moving cautiously toward the broken out window in the corner of the barn. "It's them!" he whispered. "It's Dad and Cliff and Jack! And they're headed this way!"

  "What do you suppose they're doing?" Mike asked in a hoarse whisper.

  "Looking around, maybe," Danny said.

  "Hunting for the treasure map, maybe," Bob put in.

  While they lay there on the hay scarcely daring to breathe, they could hear the three men get out of the boat and walk noisily up toward the house.

  "The old Dawson trail starts right back of Gibb's homestead here," Danny's dad was saying loudly as they walked past the barn. "It goes from here across country to Winnipeg. Used to be a right famous trail a couple of hundred years ago. Guess there was a heap of travel on it then."

  "Do—do you think they'll come in here?" Bob managed to whisper.

  Danny shook his head.

  While the boys listened, the voices got softer and softer and softer until finally they couldn't hear them anymore.

  "Will they have to come back this way?" Bob asked after five minutes of breathless waiting.

  "No," Danny said. "They'd go back there to look at the Dawson Trail, and then Dad would probably take them over to see old Gibb's grave. That'd take them way west of us."

  Even as he spoke the outboard motor came to life.

  "There," Bob said, sighing deeply. "They've gone at last." He would have gone outside, but Danny stopped him.

  "We'd better give them time to get out of sight," he said. "One of them might happen to be looking this way."

  When the sound of the motor had died to a whisper, the three boys and Laddie Boy left the barn and started toward the house.

  "Now where do you imagine old Gibb would've hidden that map?"

  "I don't know," Danny said, "but it doesn't look like we're the only ones who've been here looking for it."

  The little three-room house did look as though a tornado had gone through it. The dishes and utensils were scattered about the kitchen. The stove lids had been thrown on the floor, and the pipe had been jerked out and thrown to one side. The bedroom and living room had received the same treatment. Old Gibb hadn't had much furniture, but the little he'd had had been torn apart. The thin cotton mattress had been slashed in a hundred places with a sharp knife, and cotton was strewn across the floor. The hollow iron bedstead had been hacked in pieces, and the horsehair couch had been ripped up. A couple of faded old pictures in battered frames had been torn from the wall and thrown in the corner.