Read The Boy Ranchers of Puget Sound Page 12


  CHAPTER XII

  THE STRANGER

  A couple of days later the party pitched their camp in the depths of alonely valley sloping to the Pacific, which was not far away. It wasfilled with great redwoods, balsams and cedars, and as Frank gazed atthe endless rows of towering trunks it struck him as curious that Mr.Oliver's friend should think of buying this tract of giant forest forranching land. He said so to Harry, who laughed.

  "There's no rock or gravel on it and that counts for a good deal," saidhis companion. "If the soil looks as if it would grow things, it's aboutall the average man expects on this side of the Rockies. A few treesmore or less don't matter. It's the same with us right down the PacificSlope; the only difference is that on this island the firs seem just alittle bigger." He appeared to admit the latter fact reluctantly,adding, "I guess that's because it's wetter in Canada."

  They were standing outside a little tent of the kind most often used inthe Western bush. It was supported by a ridge pole resting at either endupon two more, which were spread well apart at the bottom and crossednear the top. A short branch stay stretched back from each pair, and afew turns of cord lashing held the whole frame together. They had cutthe poles in five minutes in the bush, and had brought the light cottoncover with them rolled up in a bundle. A good many men in that countrylive in such shelters during most of the year. Mr. Barclay sat on one ofthe hearth logs which were rolled close together in front of the tentand Mr. Oliver stood in the entrance.

  "But the place must be such a tremendous way from a market," said Frankin response to Harry's last remark.

  Mr. Oliver smiled. "It's not long since I tried to explain that a goodmany of the bush ranchers have to wait until the market comes to them.They stake their dollars and a number of years of hard work on thefuture of the country."

  "Some of them get badly left now and then," said Mr. Barclay dryly."You'll find laid-out townsites that have never grown up all along thePacific Slope. There are stores and hotels falling to pieces in one ortwo I've struck." Then changing the subject: "Are you boys coming acrosswith me to the river for some fishing to-morrow?"

  They said that they would be glad to do so, and Mr. Barclay turned toMr. Oliver. "We'll give you another two days to finish your surveying,and then we'll meet you at the rancherie on the inlet we spoke of. Wecan camp in the bush outside the tent for a couple of nights."

  They started early the next morning, taking one Indian with them to packtheir provisions, and the dog, who insisted on accompanying them. Theywere plodding along a hillside toward noon when Mr. Barclay, who waswalking in front with their guide, looked back at the boys.

  "Get hold of the dog as soon as we stop and keep him quiet," hecautioned.

  After that they moved forward in silence for some minutes while thetrees grew thinner ahead of them, until Mr. Barclay stopped behind abrake of undergrowth. The dog broke into a short, throaty bark and thengrowled hoarsely until Frank knelt beside him and laid a hand upon hiscollar. When he had quieted the animal, who by degrees had becomeattached to him, he arose and found he could look down upon a narrowslit of valley into which the sunlight poured. A creek swirled throughthe bottom of it, and he was astonished to see a swarm of blue-cladfigures toiling with grubhoe and shovel upon its banks, and a cluster ofbark shelters in the widest part of the hollow.

  "Chinamen!" he said. "What can they be doing? One never would haveexpected to find a colony of them here."

  Mr. Barclay smiled in a somewhat curious fashion.

  "They're washing gold. It's a remarkably simple process, if you'rewilling to work hard enough. You shovel out the soil and sand and keepon washing it until it's all washed away. Any gold there is remains inthe bottom of the pan."

  "But if there's gold in that creek, how is it there are no white menabout?"

  "Probably because they couldn't make wages. There's a little gold in anumber of the creeks right down the Slope, but where the quantity's verysmall nobody but a Chinaman finds it worth while to look for it."

  Mr. Barclay sat down and spent some minutes apparently carefullywatching the blue-clad figures toiling in the sunlight below, afterwhich he got up and signaled for them to go on again. The boys, however,dropped a little behind, and presently Harry gave his companion a nudge.

  "I guess you noticed that when you said one wouldn't have expected tofind those Chinamen here Barclay didn't answer it?"

  "Yes," said Frank thoughtfully. "I suppose you mean he wasn't astonishedwhen he saw them?"

  "You've hit it, first time," Harry assented. "That man's on the trail,and though I can't tell you exactly who he's getting after, I've myideas." He paused with a chuckle. "I'm not sure now he's quite so muchof a stuffed image as he seemed to be."

  Frank said nothing in answer to this. A few minutes later Harry touchedhis arm as Mr. Barclay, turning suddenly, shouted:

  "Get hold of the dog!"

  Frank grabbed at the animal's collar but missed it, and the next momentthe dog had vanished. Then there was a crash in the bush, and abeautiful slender creature with long legs and little horns shot out frombehind a thicket and flung itself high into the air. It fell again, thistime with scarcely a sound, into a clump of fern, rose out of it, and ina wonderful bound cleared a fallen trunk with broken branches projectingfrom it. Then it was lost in another thicket and the dog's harsh barkingrang through the silence of the woods. Once or twice again Frank caughta momentary glimpse of a marvelously agile creature rising and fallingamong the undergrowth, and then there was only the yelping of the dogwhich became fainter and fainter and finally broke out at irregularintervals. Mr. Barclay sat down upon the fallen trees.

  "I suppose we'll have to wait until that amiable pet of yours comesback," he said. "On the whole it's fortunate the deer broke out nowinstead of a quarter of an hour earlier."

  They waited a considerable time before the dog crept up to them wagginghis ragged tail in a disappointed manner. Harry shook his fishing rod athim threateningly.

  "I'd lay into you good, only it wouldn't be any use," he said. "The moreyou're whacked, the worse you get."

  The dog wagged his tail again and jumped upon Frank, who patted himbefore they resumed the march.

  "It's rather curious, but that's the first deer I've seen since I'vebeen in the country," he said. "Do they always jump like that?"

  "Well," said Harry, "in a general way they are quite hard to see, andyou can walk right past one without noticing it when it's standingstill. Their colors match the trunks and the fern, and, what's moreimportant, it's not often you can see the whole of them. In fact, I'vestruck as many deer by accident as I've done when I've been trailingthem. Now and then you almost walk right up to one, though I haven't theleast notion how it is they don't hear you, because as a rule the oneyou're trailing will leave you out of sight in a few moments if you snapa twig. Anyway, a scared deer goes over whatever lies in front of him.There are very few things he can't jump, and he comes down almostwithout a sound."

  The rest of the journey proved uneventful, and early in the evening theymade camp on the banks of a frothing river which swept out of the shadowcrystal clear. In this it differed, as Harry explained, from most of thelarger ones on the Pacific Slope, which are usually fed by melted snowand stained a faint green. Mr. Barclay, whose boots and clothes werealready considerably the worse for wear, sat down beside a swirling pooland took out his pipe.

  "There's no use pitching a fly across it yet, I suppose," he said. "Wemay as well get supper before we start."

  The Siwash prepared the meal and remained behind with Mr. Barclay whenit was over, while the two boys went down stream with a rod he had lentthem which Harry insisted Frank should take. There were, he urged,plenty of trout in the river near his father's ranch, though it was veryseldom he had leisure to go after them. They wandered on some distancebeside the water, which ran almost west toward the Pacific, andwherever the forest was a little thinner the slanting sunrays streamingbetween the serried trunks smote along it. Frank, who had, a
s ithappened, once or twice got a week or two's fishing in the East, kepthis eyes open, but it was only twice that he fancied he noticed thefaint dimple made by a short-rising trout.

  "I'd have expected to find a river of this kind thick with fish," hesaid.

  "There's sure to be a good many in it," answered Harry. "You wait aboutanother half hour."

  "What's the matter with starting now?" urged Frank. "Isn't that onerising in the slack yonder?"

  "See if you can get him," said Harry, smiling.

  Frank swung the rod, straining every effort to make a neat, clean cast,and he succeeded. The flies dropped lightly about a foot above thedimple made by the fish, and swept down stream across the spot where hehad reason to suppose it was waiting. There was no response, however,and nothing broke the rippling surface when the flies floated down asecond time. Frank laid down the rod.

  "It's curious," he murmured.

  Harry laughed. "Hold on a little. You've seen three fish rising now, andthat's quite out of the common."

  Frank sat down again, and waited until the sunlight faded off the riverand the firs about it suddenly grew blacker. Soon afterward what seemedan almost solid cloud of tiny insects drifted along the surface of thewater, which was immediately broken by multitudinous splashes.

  "Now you can begin," said Harry.

  Frank, clambering to a ledge of rock, swung his rod, and as the fliesswept across an eddy there was a splash and a swirl and a suddentightening of the line. He got the butt down as the winch commenced toclink, and Harry waded out into the stream lower down, holding his widehat.

  "Let him run, but keep a strain on," he cried. "You've got a big one."

  The fish fought for three or four minutes, gleaming, a streak of silver,through the shadowy flood, as it showed its side, then sprang clear andchanged again to a half-seen dusky shape that drove violently here andthere. Then it came up toward the bending point of the rod, and atlength Harry, slipping his hat beneath it, lifted it out.

  "Nearly three quarters of a pound," he said. "Your trace is clear now.Try again, and never mind about the slack and eddies. Pitch your fliesanywhere."

  Frank did so, and they had scarcely fallen when there was a second rush,but this fish seemed smaller and he dragged it out unceremoniously uponthe shingle. It was the same the next cast, and for a while he was keptdesperately busy. When at length he laid the rod down Harry announcedthat they had a dozen fish.

  "We'll try the next pool now," he added. "Some of these trout aren'thalf a pound and I'd like you to get a real big one."

  The next pool proved to be some distance away and there was nothing butrock and foaming water between, but when they reached a slacker placewhere the current circled around a deep basin Frank had four or fivemore minutes' fishing, during which he landed several trout. Then theflies seemed to vanish and there was scarcely a splash on the shadowywater.

  "You may as well put the rod up," Harry advised. "It's a sure thing youwon't get another."

  Frank tried for a few minutes, but finding his companion's predictionjustified, sat down near him among the roots of a big fir. At the footof the pool where he had been fishing the stream swept furiouslybetween big scattered boulders in a wild white rapid. It was narrowerthere, and a ledge of rock, slightly hollowed out underneath, rose aboveit on the side on which they sat a little more than a hundred yardsaway. The woods were now darkening fast, and the chill of the dew was inthe air, which was heavy with the scent of redwood and cedar. In placesthe water still glimmered faintly, and except for the roar it made,everything was very still.

  Suddenly Harry pointed to the dog, who was lying near Frank.

  "Get hold of him," he said in a low voice. "If nothing else will keephim quiet, we'll roll your jacket round his head."

  Frank, who had taken off his jacket, which was badly torn, when he beganfishing, laid his hand on the dog as it arose with a low growl. Then asit tried to break away from him he seized its collar and held on withall his might while Harry flung the jacket over it. Though the thingcost them an effort they managed to hold the animal still between them.In the meanwhile there was a crackle of undergrowth and Frank saw a manwho walked in a rather curious manner move out from the shadow. Evenwhen he was clear of the overhanging branches it was impossible to seehim distinctly, but Frank recognized him with a start. There wassomething wrong with one of the dark figure's shoulders.

  The man moved on away from them, until he stopped at the edge of theoverhanging rock, where he stood for a moment or two. Then he leaped outsuddenly and alighted on the top of a boulder about which the whitefroth whirled. Frank fancied that only a very powerful person could havesafely made such a leap, and there was no doubt that whatever it wasthat had caused the man's unusual gait, it had not affected his agility.The next moment, he jumped again, and, coming down rather more thanknee-deep in the rapid, floundered through it and vanished into theshadow beneath the trees. Then Harry looked around at his companion witha smile.

  "I'll own up that Barclay's smart, after all," he said. "He's sure onthe trail. Anyway, perhaps we'd better head back to camp in case somemore of them come along."

  It was quite dark when they reached the fire the Siwash had made andfound Mr. Barclay, who now seemed rather wet as well as ragged, sittingbeside it with his pipe in his hand. When they had compared their fishwith those he had killed they lay down among the withered needles on theopposite side of the fire.

  "It's good fishing, sir, but you must be very keen to come so far forit," said Harry, looking up innocently at Mr. Barclay.

  The red light of the fire was on Mr. Barclay's face and Frank saw thathe glanced thoughtfully at Harry.

  "It certainly is," he answered. "I believe you have already saidsomething very much like your last remark. Still, you see, I don'tpropose to come often."

  Frank suppressed a chuckle. If Harry had intended to surprise the maninto some admission he had not succeeded yet.

  "And we go on to the rancherie in a couple of days," Harry added. "Fromwhat the Indians told me I don't think we'd get any fishing there.Wouldn't it be better to stay here a little longer?"

  "No," said Mr. Barclay, "quite apart from the difficulty of sending yourfather word, what you suggest doesn't strike me as advisable, for one ortwo reasons."

  Harry seemed to realize that he was making no progress, and, lookingmeaningly at Frank, suddenly changed his tactics.

  "There's something I should perhaps have told you, sir, though I don'tknow whether it will interest you. Anyway, not long ago Frank and I wereup at the Chinese colony behind the settlement near our ranch. Perhapsyou have been there?"

  "I've heard of it," said Barclay dryly.

  Then in a few words Harry described how the man they had endeavored totrail had vanished at the Chinaman's shack, and Frank saw a look ofeager interest cross Mr. Barclay's usually stolid face.

  "You suggest that the fellow didn't want you to see him?" he asked.

  "That was certainly how it struck me."

  "And he walked rather curiously and one shoulder seemed a little higherthan the other? I think you mentioned that?"

  "I did," repeated Harry.

  Mr. Barclay seemed to reflect, but there was now sign of deeper interestin his expression.

  "Did you notice whether he had red hair and gray eyes?"

  "No," said Harry with a grin, "though I can't be sure about it, I've anotion that his hair was dark. As it happened, I only saw his back, butI'd know the man again." He paused impressively. "In fact, I hadn't theleast trouble about it when I saw him half an hour ago."

  Mr. Barclay started and there was no doubt that he was astonished atthis.

  "You ran up against him here!"

  "No," said Harry, "I only watched him from behind a fir. He crossed thecreek heading south and didn't notice us."

  Mr. Barclay settled back again and seemed lost in thought. "After all,"he said shortly, "it's possible."

  Then he changed the subject and they talked about fishing unt
il the firedied down, when they spread their blankets upon their couches of softspruce twigs.