CHAPTER XII
THE BLACK HAND GAME
Shortly after breakfast, and after what remained of the chickens hadbeen eaten, Bradley and his charge left the camp, after inviting theboys to visit them in the cabin in the valley. Bradley appearedanxious to be friendly, and seemed absolutely frank in his talks. Theonly suspicious thing they noticed in him was his jealous care of theboy--his reproaches when the lad had indulged in a word or two ofFrench!
"You bet I'll visit you at the cabin!" Jack said, as the twodisappeared over the summit. "I'll be there with the lingo, too! Ican soon find out from the boy what he knows of the French language!Of course I'll be down to the cottage!"
"Bradley will see that you don't talk with the boy alone!" Jimmiedeclared.
"I'll catch him doing it!" was Jack's reply.
"What do you think about it, Ned?" asked Frank. "Is that the prince,or is it Mike III.? You may have all the guesses you need.
"First," Ned said, turning to Jack and Frank, "tell me what the boysaid when he spoke in French."
Jack repeated the interpretations as previously given, and Nedremained in a thoughtful mood for a long time. Then he went into thetent, without answering any questions, and began overhauling thestock of reading matter brought along.
When he found what he wanted to he threw himself on the bunk where hehad slept and read steadily for an hour or more. At least he held tothe book for that length of time, turning the leaves rapidly attimes, and then not at all for several minutes.
"What's he up to?" asked Teddy. "Something on his alleged mind!"
"I'll go and find out what he's reading," Jimmie volunteered.
The boy entered the tent, but was back in a moment with a broad grinon his face.
"It is a French dictionary!" he gasped. "Ned is learning French, sohe can talk with the prince in his native tongue!"
"The prince isn't French!" Jack declared. "He belongs away in theEast somewhere. French is the polite language of Europe, so ofcourse, he's been taught it!"
After a time Ned came to the door of the tent and beckoned to Jimmie.
"Suppose we go and get some pictures of the mountains," he said, whenthe boy entered. "We haven't taken a snap-shot since we came here.
"I'm strong for it!" Jimmie declared. "We might go and take a fewsnaps at the counterfeiter's den. That will be fine!"
"What's that?" demanded Frank Shaw, poking his nose into the tent."Going to take pictures of the counterfeiters den! I'm in on that.We'll take a bunch of pictures--enough for a first-page layout--andsend 'em in to dad's newspaper. Hot stuff! What? And I'll write thebiography of Uncle Ike, and send it in with the rest. His pictureought to go in the center of the layout. He'll be a hero, all right."
"All right!" Ned agreed. "We'll go and take the pictures, and we'llsend them in when you get the story written! Will that answer?"
"Sure it will!"
So Ned, Jimmie, and Frank started away laughing, for all knew Frankwould never write the story, toward the counterfeiters' cave. Whenthey came in sight of the ridge which jutted out of the slope to makethe canyon, and under which the workroom was situated, they saw a manmoving northward, keeping close to the jagged summit of the lesserelevation, and looking sharply about as he advanced.
"That may be one of them," Jimmie suggested.
"I don't believe it!" Frank contradicted. "What do you think, Ned?"he added.
"Never saw the outlaws," Ned answered, "so I can't decide thequestion. Still, I doubt if one of the counterfeiters is withinfifty miles of this spot now."
"That's the idea!" Frank said. "Of course the shooting of last nightwould draw out the natives. There'll be dozens around the cavesto-day."
The boys walked on to the canyon, taking snap-shots of everythingthey saw. The slope, the canyon, the valley to the west, the greenvalley to the south, the shallow cave from which the entrance to theworkroom gave, all were transferred to films to await development.When at last they entered the shallow cave they paused.
"There may be some of them in here yet," Frank suggested.
"Not to-day!" Ned replied. "There are too many strangers about!"
They entered cautiously. There was now no fire on the stone hearth,and the atmosphere of the place was damp and chill, as well as dark.Here and there a break in the rocky roof above--the ceiling of theapartment was very near to the surface of the outcropping ridge--letin a shaft of light, but for the most part the apartment was in heavyshadows.
Ned took out his electric light and turned it enquiringly about theroom. Counterfeit money still lay scattered over the floor. Themelting pot and the dies were on the cold iron shelf where they hadbeen left, and even a coat hung against the wall.
"They got out in a hurry," Jimmie declared.
"And they are not likely to come back in a hurry!" Ned added.
Frank paced the apartment off, set his camera tripod, and got out hispowder.
"You boys stand over on the other side," he requested, as he movedback to his tripod, "and when I give the word you, Jimmie, touch offthis flash."
"What do you want a view of that corner for?" asked Jimmie. "You aretoo close, anyway, to get a good picture."
"I'm going to have a picture of every corner, and the middle, and theroof, and the chimney, and everything about the blooming place!"Frank declared.
"Wait a minute!" Jimmie shouted. "I'll hide in the passage we wentout of last night, and when you are ready to spring the print I'lllook out, with a fierce expression on my pretty face. That will makethe picture look like the real brigandish thing. What?"
"All right," laughed Frank, "get in there! It is only an excuse forgetting your mug into dad's newspaper, but we'll let it go."
Frank and Ned busied themselves for half an hour or more, takingpictures and looking over the implements used in the manufacture ofspurious coin. At length, when they returned to the outer cave, theyremembered that Jimmie had not returned from the west passage to theworkroom, and Ned went there to look for him. He was not there, norwas he in any of the niches or shallow openings in the rocky walls.Ned called to him, but he did not reply. Then Frank came running intothe passage and joined in the hunt. In vain! Jimmie was nowhere to befound.
"Wherever he is," Frank said, after a long search, "he has his camerawith him."
"I didn't see him have one," Ned replied. "You must be mistaken."
"It was the baby camera he had," Frank explained. "He carried itunder his coat. The little monkey has doubtless gone off on apicture-making tour of his own."
"That is just like him," Ned agreed, "so we'll go on about ourbusiness and let him present himself when he gets ready."
"He seemed to take quite an interest in that child," Frank suggested,"and he may have gone on to the cabin."
"We may as well go that way and thank the old lady for the hens Jackdidn't make into a pie," Ned observed. "I'd like another look at thatchild myself."
"Is it the prince, or is it Mike III.?" laughed Frank.
Ned smiled, but made no reply, They walked on down the slope andconnected with the valley at the south end of the ridge. When theycame to the cabin they found Mrs. Mary Brady sitting in the doorway,the child playing on the ground--beaten hard by years of wear--infront of her. She arose as they appeared, and the boy darted off intothe fenced garden farther to the south, looking back with a grin frombehind the stake-and-rider fence.
"Good day to you, young gentlemen," the old lady said. "I hope youpassed a pleasant night! The mountain air is good for those who seeksleep."
Then it occurred to Ned that neither Bradley nor the child hadreferred in any way to the shooting of the night before, though, ifat the cabin, they must have heard it. He regarded the old ladykeenly as he said:
"Has any one seen anything of the outlaws to-day?"
"The outlaws?" repeated the other.
"You heard nothing in the night?" Ned asked.
"I thought I heard a gunshot now and then," was the indifferentreply, "but they are too com
mon here to attract attention. Did theshooting disturb you?"
Ned did not believe the old lady had slept through the furiousfusilades of shots of the night before. What her motive was inignoring the matter he could not understand, but he decided to sethimself right with her and also with her mountain friends by tellingof the events of the night.
If they were to remain long in that section, it was quite necessary,he thought, that the natives should understand that the boys of theCamera Club were not there to spy on counterfeiters or themoonshiners, if any there were in that region.
So he told her that the boys had blundered on the workroom of thecounterfeiters, had been suspected of being spies sent by thegovernment and seized, and finally had been released by strategy. Headded that they were not there to molest the people of the district,whatever their occupation might be, but to take pictures and have along vacation in the health-giving mountain air.
"And I hope you'll pass the word along," he closed, "so that yourfriends will not regard us as enemies. We are anxious to meet as manyof them as possible, and to be on good terms with them."
This was strictly true, as the boys were not there to convict any ofthe natives, whatever their offenses might be, but to deal with thestrangers who had abducted the prince from his home in Washington.Ned was certain that no one belonging in that region had had a handin the crime, although he suspected that some of them mightinnocently harbor the outlaws he was in quest of.
The old lady listened to Ned's story and his explanation with astartled face.
"I'm sure," she said, "that no one belonging here was interested inthe counterfeiting gang you boys came upon. I am sure, too, that noone will blame you for what you did. We are law-abiding people, butour mountains constitute a secure refuge for some who are not worthyof protection."
Ned was more than pleased at the outcome of the matter, for he wassure the old lady would take pains to set the matter before herfriends in the correct light. The conversation soon changed to othersubjects. The child did not return, and directly Frank saw himwalking along a distant hillside, hand-in-hand with Bradley.
"Mr. Bradley seems to stick close to Mike," he said, tentatively.
"Never lets him out of his sight," was the reply, and Mrs. Bradyseemed to resent the face as stated. She evidently had little of thelad's companionship.
When the boys reached the camp Jimmie had not returned, but theirchums were gathered around a sheet of letter paper which had, no oneknew how, been thrust into the tent. Jack's face was deadly white ashe handed it to Ned.
"We are up against a black hand game," he said. "Jimmie has beenstolen!"
The Boy Scout Camera Club; Or, the Confession of a Photograph Page 12