CHAPTER XV
MISERY CAMP
Now let us return to Garry and Phil, whom we left struggling in thehands of their captors. Only one voice did they recognize in the ordersthat were given, but this was enough to let them know that they were inthe worst kind of trouble. It was the voice of LeBlanc.
"Phil, that's LeBlanc's voice or I'm crazy," ejaculated Garry.
"Absolutement, ma frien's. It is LeBlanc. Once again I have you, and Ithink this time you do not go until we have settled several old scoresthat I have mark up against you."
As he spoke, several men took hold of the boys even more roughly, and ina few moments their hands had been bound tightly behind their backs.
LeBlanc gave the order to march, and the strange procession wended itsway through the woods. It was almost pitch dark, but they seemed to befollowing a well defined trail, and the leader was sure of every step.An unknown man grasped the arm of each boy and guided them so that theywould not bump into a tree, and at the same time prevented a chance ofescape.
The boys took things philosophically, for there was nothing that couldbe done with so many odds against them, and the darkness would havehindered any chance of flight. They knew that they could not take morethan a dozen steps without smashing into the trees, and would soon becaptured. They resolved, the same train of thought running through theminds of both of the captives, to wait for daylight before sizingmatters up.
LeBlanc kept hurrying the men along, and they covered nearly a half adozen miles before a halt was called. Now the first flush of day wasappearing in the sky, and soon there would be light enough for them tosee in what manner of hands they had fallen.
When dawn finally broke, both boys looked in amazement at the strangefigures that the light of day revealed.
LeBlanc, of course, they recognized at once, and they had half expectedto see his brother. But all the others,--there were half a dozen notcounting the halfbreed,--were total strangers. The men were for the mostpart large and swarthy, unkempt of hair and ragged as to clothes. Theirgarments were torn and dirty, and here and there was a raggedly sewnpatch where the clothes threatened to give way entirely.
They were taciturn men, and said little or nothing to each other, andwhen they did, it was in a low tone. They paid absolutely no attentionto any order of LeBlanc, always turning to one of their number forconfirmation.
This man, evidently the leader, was a perfect giant of a man. He stood,so the boys judged, at least six feet four inches, and wascorrespondingly large of frame.
His face, what could be seen of it, for he wore a black, flowing,tangled beard, was tanned by the sun, as one who lived entirely in theopen. His followers evidently respected, or at least feared him, forwhenever he gave an order, they sprang to do his bidding.
Garry and Phil wondered who they were and what their businesswas,--whether they were hunters or what.
A fire was built and a meagre breakfast made. Phil and Garry were gladof the food, for they were both hungry and tired. The eating done,evident preparations were made to continue the march. Both boys werecruelly tired. They had passed a strenuous day and night, and now theywanted to sleep. But this was evidently not to be.
They were slightly surprised also when they learned from theconversation that LeBlanc was not to continue to the destination of theothers.
"Now, King, you will take these boys to Misery Camp, and keep them untilyou hear from those who have given you instructions. They will let youknow what to do, and you will be ver' careful not to let them make theconge, to get away, for then you will have me, Jean LeBlanc, to dealwith."
"I'll keep my bargain, fer the fact that I give my word, an' a Kingallers keeps his word; but never think that I fear ye, Frenchman, fer Ifear no man livin'!"
LeBlanc kept silence, and took his way back to the camp, while the wearymarch forward was resumed. Short rests were given at long intervals andthe boys were thankful for the scant few minutes that were allowed.
The men walked with the long swinging lope of the true woodsman, andoften the boys thought they would drop by the side of the road fromweariness.
At noon a halt was called, and one of the men disappeared, to returnafter several minutes with a half dozen grouse. The boys then knewimmediately that these men were outlaws of some sort, who paid noattention to the law, for the close season was on all grouse andpheasant.
A fire was built and one of the men skinned the birds preparatory toroasting them over the coals. Coffee was made and they were about todrink it black, when Garry bethought himself of the sugar and condensedmilk in his knapsack. Thinking that a few favors on his part wouldperhaps return to them later on, he offered it to the men. The boy'shands were untied, and he rummaged through his pack until he found thearticles.
The men took them without a word and used them. They divided the foodfairly with all present.
Garry tried to engage the men in conversation, but all attempts failed.The rest and the dinner occupied about an hour and then the march beganagain.
"See here," said Garry to the man addressed as King. "When are you goingto give us a decent rest? We're played out."
"Well, you can be played out ef you want; you've got eight miles aheadof you yet till we get to Misery Camp," answered King.
"What is Misery Camp, and who are you fellows anyway?" again askedGarry.
"Misery Camp is where we live, and we fellows be squatters. Now shut upand walk," and King relapsed into silence.
Light instantly broke over the boys. They had often heard of thesquatters scattered over the woods of Maine, queer nomadic people, whogleaned a precarious and lean living from the woods. Game and fish lawsmeant nothing to them. Birds of all sorts were shot, and woe be unto thedeer that ran across the path of the squatter. Some little cultivationwas carried on, in the way of corn and potatoes.
Wearily they trudged on. The last mile was almost agony to Phil andGarry, but they clenched their teeth and carried on, determined ifpossible to show no sign of weakening in front of these strangecreatures of the woods.
At last Misery Camp was sighted. It was a patch of land that had beencleared away, evidently the logs that were cut being used to make thehabitations of the squatters. A score of ragged children and someslatternly women came out to meet them, looking curiously at the boys.They were thrust into one of the cabins, and a guard established at thedoor.
The weary boys dropped on the rude pallets and fell asleep almostinstantly. So tired were they that it was the following morning beforethey awoke. They stretched their arms and legs, and then tried to openthe door. The guard let them out, and warned them that any attempt atflight would be followed immediately by a shot.
"An' I ain't missed a squirrel in five year," boasted their guard, whowas a boy of about their own age.
Privately the boys resolved to make an escape as soon as possible, butnot while the rifle of the guard was trained on them, for they doubtedneither his ability to shoot as well as he said he could, nor the factthat he would not hesitate to do as he threatened.
They looked over the clearing with some curiosity. It fitted its namewell, for misery seemed to be on every side. King, who appeared to bethat in fact as well as in name, called the boys to his own shack forbreakfast. Here they found that the squatter leader had opened theirknapsacks, and the contents were strewn over a rude table.
Both boys jumped to see if their wireless 'phone had been broken by thecurious squatter, but were relieved to find that it had not beentouched.
"What's that there contrivance?" asked King, pointing to theradio-phone.
"That's a wireless telephone," answered Garry. As he answered he had avision of a way out of their difficulty, but subsequent conversationsoon proved that they would not be able to put the plan into execution.
"I seen a telephone onct," said the squatter, "but it had wires. Youdon't mean that that thing will talk without a wire, do you?"
"Yes it does. Would you like to have us set it up, and talk through it,and have a me
ssage come through the air?" asked Garry, eagerly awaitingthe answer, for he thought that if he could get the wireless up he couldsignal some way for help.
"No, I don't. I don't believe that ye can talk through the air without awire, but ye might be able to an' I ain't agoin' to take no chances."
The squatter did not seem interested in the contents of the knapsackexcept for the little medicine case that Garry always carried. The boynoted, too, that all the foodstuff was gone.
"What be these things, medicine?" asked King.
"Yes," answered Garry briefly.
"Got anything that's good for chills and fever?" demanded the man.
"Not that I know of; most of that stuff is for use in an accident. Yousee it's mostly antiseptic and bandage and stuff," answered Garry.
King picked up a bottle that was marked poison and had the familiarskull and crossbones in red ink.
"What's this stuff with the red printin'?" he questioned.
"That's iodine; can't you read?" Phil broke into the conversation.
"No, can't read, never went to school. What's it for?"
"Why, it's to put on bad cuts so that you won't get blood poisoning, andit's good if you strain your wrist or finger or something like that."answered Garry.
"Wall, you don't say so. Wonder if 'twould do this finger o' mine anygood? I hurt it the other day when I slipped near the brook where I wasgetting water. It's my trigger finger too, and that's a bad one to havehurt."
Garry assured him that there was nothing better than the iodine andoffered to paint it for him.
The squatter evidently decided that it could do no harm, and so Garryinspected the swollen finger and liberally painted it.
"That will help take the swelling out, and it will be all right in acouple of days," said Garry, as he put the cork back in the bottle andlaid it on the table.
Then he noticed that a ragged youngster about three years old had beenwatching the process with wide open eyes. Inquiry developed that it wasthe squatter's child, and it was evident that the youngster was the onething that the squatter king was really fond of. He told Garry and Philthat the mother had died a year before, when they had been driven off atimber tract by the lumbermen. Here the squatter launched into a tiradeagainst the lumber owners.
The squatter idea is a peculiar one. They claim that the woods were madefor man to take as he found them and could not understand the right ofanyone to drive them out; yet they are responsible for great damage tothe woods. As, for instance, at this place, a couple of acres of finetimber had been ruthlessly cut to make cabins for the nesters orsquatters, and to provide a place for the scanty crop of potatoes andcorn. Then too, many of the great forest fires are started by thesquatters. There is one case on record in Maine where the squatters setfire to a whole mountain side, because they said that the blueberrieswould grow better on the burned-over ground.
Also the depredations against deer are numerous. Many a fine moose orstag has been brought down to provide food for the nomads.
The talk went back to the medicine again, and the squatter asked whatthe skull meant on the bottle.
"That's put on to warn you that it's poison," Garry informed him.
The work of painting his finger seemed to mollify the old man somewhat,and he drew a little out of his shell, and Garry, seeing theopportunity, asked him why they had been brought there.
The squatter then told them that LeBlanc had appeared on the scene a dayor two before and told them that unless they agreed to keep some boyswho would be brought there prisoners, they would be driven from theclearing by the lumberjacks. The squatters knew what this meant, sincethey had planted their corn for the summer, and moving meant that thelumberjacks would burn down the cabins and start them away. They knewfrom experience that it was useless to fight, for the enemy, so theyconsidered the lumberjacks, would outnumber them ten to one.
Garry saw through the whole scheme and guessed that Barrows had known oftheir presence at the clearing and had kept them in mind for some timewhen he might require them to help in some of his schemes.
The squatter king took his rifle and offered to show the boys wheretheir planting was done, and more for the sake of getting a littleexercise than for any especial desire to see the corn patch, theyagreed.
The other squatters eyed them as they passed in company with old King,but said nothing. Some of the youngsters started to follow, but a merethreatening look was enough to set them scurrying away.
"You seem to be the boss around here," remarked Garry.
"Yes, I'm a King by name, and I aim to be king of these people so longas I breathe," answered the man gravely; and Garry, looking at hisimmense frame and stern eye, thought he had a good chance of continuingin his royal capacity.
They were looking at the corn patch with only a pretended interest, whenthey heard a scream from King's cabin.
"That's my baby," said King in a frightened tone. "Something's hurther!"