CHAPTER XX.
BRICK'S DEFENCE.
First of all, Raikes followed Sparwick's trail to where it entered thewoods. He plunged a few yards into the heavy undergrowth and timber.Then he retraced the entire distance backward, leaving a plain imprintwith every step. Brick's heart sank. He thought he knew what thisproceeding meant.
The two men next removed their snowshoes, and made Brick do likewise.They put the three pairs under the luggage on the sled, and drew thestraps as tight as possible. Raikes hoisted the heavy sled to hisright shoulder. Then the start was made, in the following order: Raikesfirst, Brick in the middle, and Bogle bringing up the rear, whence hecould watch every movement of the prisoner. The three followed the ledgeof rocks to its very end, and stepped off into the swift, open channelof the brook. The water was shallow, but fearfully cold. It quicklypenetrated Brick's boots and made him shiver. Raikes and Bogle did notseem to mind it. The latter turned and looked back.
"Well done," he muttered. "That would almost throw a bloodhound off thetrail."
"There's better luck in store for us," replied Raikes. "We'll have snowbefore morning."
"I believe it," assented Bogle, glancing up at the murky sky. "Goahead. Don't you plant your feet anywhere but in the water, youngster."
Raikes led the way down the center of the brook, between deep and gloomywoods. The chilling journey lasted for more than a mile. The watersometimes took the waders almost to their knees. Brick was heartily gladwhen the open lake came in sight. It was frozen hard against the shore.
The party pushed rapidly up the lake, evidently with a fixed destinationin view. Here and there were great drifts of snow, but, for the mostpart, the ice was bare. The travelers left no trace behind them. Raikesbore the heavy sled as though it was a trifling burden.
About midafternoon, when the head of the lake was several miles distant,a lively snowgust came on. Raikes and Bogle held a short conversation.
Then they headed due east, across the lake. Before they tramped a milethe snow had turned to a steady fall of fine flakes. It quickly coveredthe ice to the depth of an inch. Raikes lowered the sled and trailed itbehind him.
It was quite dark when the eastern shore of Chesumcook was reached--sodark that the forest was only a blurred blot against the night.
The snow was several inches deep, and still falling in a white, stealthycloud. There was scarcely enough wind to stir the tops of the pinetrees.
Brick had hoped that his captors would pitch camp here. He was hungryand tired, and his frosted feet ached with every step.
However, he was destined to disappointment. No doubt Raikes and Boglewere equally disposed to rest, but, nevertheless, they lit a lantern andplunged into the forest.
As before, Raikes took the lead, while Bogle followed on Brick's heels.All wore their snowshoes again, and they traveled at a fair rate ofspeed.
Brick speedily lost all track of his bearings. For nearly two hours hefollowed the misty gleam of Raikes' lantern--over hills, across openmeadows, and through narrow ravines. The snow grew deeper and deeper,and at times it fairly blinded him. Then, without knowing how or when itbegan, he found himself threading the mazy windings of a vast, frozenmarsh.
The path was a tortuous one. It led over rocks, and fallen trees, andpatches of tangled grass. At times it slipped under canopies ofinterlaced bushes. Here it was necessary to stoop very low.
A whole hour was spent in traversing this gloomy and boundless place.Brick began to believe that it had no end.
"A little faster, youngster," urged Bogle, in a gruff voice. "We don'twant to spend the night out of doors. A lovely hiding-place, this, ain'tit? An army could never find us here. If we should turn you loose now,you would wander about till you died of starvation. You could never getout."
Brick shuddered. He tried hard to quicken his pace. Raikes was movingrapidly, and in a manner that betokened familiarity with the ground.
"It's not far now," he called back to Brick. "You'll soon have supperand sleep."
Five minutes later the tangle of the undergrowth and young timber endedabruptly on the edge of a small clearing. Here, faintly outlined againstthe driving snow, stood a low, flat-roofed log cabin.
Raikes grunted with satisfaction as he opened the door. Bogle pushedBrick inside, where the scene was in strong contrast to the outer storm.
The floor was planked. A pile of wood was stacked by the open fireplace.The furniture consisted of two benches and a table. One end of the roomwas spread with pine boughs, on top of which were blankets.
A blazing fire was quickly built. The sled yielded provisions in plenty,and from a small cupboard Raikes took dishes and cooking utensils.
A little later the three sat down to a tempting supper. The fact that hewas a prisoner did not interfere with Brick's appetite, and he ateheartily.
When the meal was over, the men prepared for bed. They made Brick liedown between them, and his left wrist was fastened to Bogle's right by apair of slender, steel bracelets.
Brick was too sleepy to mind this indignity. From the moment his headtouched the pine boughs, he knew nothing until he woke, to find thelight of day shining through the cabin's one window.
The fire was roaring, and the table was set. Raikes was frying baconand potatoes, and Bogle sat near by, smoking a pipe.
"Get up, youngster," he called out, when he saw that Brick was awake."How do you feel this morning?"
"Pretty good," answered Brick.
He was puzzled to account for the ruffian's affable manner.
Raikes now announced that breakfast was ready. He pulled a bench to thetable, and the three sat down. Bogle was the last to finish. He rose andopened the door.
"Come here, youngster," he said.
Brick obeyed. From the threshold the prospect was dreary and dismal. Nosnow was falling, but it lay deep on the bit of clearing. Overhead wasthe murky, gray sky; in front the tangled thickets of the marsh.
"I want to tell you where you are," resumed Bogle. "This cabin is in thebiggest and loneliest swamp in the State of Maine. Raikes and I built ittwo years ago. No one ever comes near the locality. The swamp isregarded as inaccessible. Your friends would not find you, if theysearched for ten years. Even if you escaped, you could never get put ofthe swamp. You would lose yourself, and travel around in a circle."
Brick did not doubt the truth of this. A lump rose in his throat as heturned away from the door. He could scarcely repress the tears. Raikeswas just putting away the last of the dishes. He glanced meaningly atBogle. The latter opened the cupboard, and brought out a bottle of ink,a pen, some sheets of paper, a pack of envelopes, and arranged thesethings on the table.
Brick wondered what was coming next. He felt more curiosity than fear.He did not have long to wait.
Bogle drew a packet of letters from his pocket and held them up. Theybore foreign stamps and postmarks.
"Do you recognize these?" he asked.
"Yes," replied Brick, in an aggressive tone. "You stole them out of mycoat on the night of the tenth of December."
His face flushed with anger as he remembered all that happened on thatoccasion.
"No impudence," growled Bogle. "I won't have it. I'm showing you theseletters in order that you may see the uselessness of telling us anylies. We know who you are and all about you. You are the son of JohnLarkins, the wealthy contractor of New York."
"Well, I don't deny it," replied Brick. "What's that to you?"
"You will find out presently," said Bogle, with a mocking smile. "I wanta little information first. These letters were written to you by yourfather. The last one is dated at Mentone on the twenty-fourth ofNovember. Is he still there?"
"Yes."
"And how long will he remain?"
Brick hesitated an instant.
"My parents intend to stay in the south of France until spring," hereplied. "My mother's health is poor. My father took her abroad to avoidcold weather."
/> "And you were left at college in New York," added Bogle, "in care of alawyer, who acts as a sort of guardian. What brought you to Maine atthis time of year?"
"I won't answer that," replied Brick, sullenly.
Bogle's eyes flashed. He made a threatening move forward. But a glancefrom Raikes checked him.
"If the answer was of any importance, I'd soon find a way to open yourlips," he said, coolly. "Now sit down at that table and take the pen.You must write two letters--one to your father, the other to thislawyer, Frederick Glendale, whose address you know. I will dictate them.Do you understand?"
A light broke suddenly on Brick's bewildered mind. He saw now why he hadbeen brought to this lonely place. His blood fairly boiled withindignation. He faced Bogle with flashing eyes.
"You may keep me here for a lifetime," he cried, angrily, "but I won'twrite a line."