CHAPTER III
A NEW ALLY
Garry hastily unstrapped his canteen and unloosing the stopper, pouredsome of the water on the man's face. At the same time, Dick, showing asurprising amount of speed for one so undeniably stout, sprang to helpGarry and unloosed the man's shirt collar.
In a few moments the man had been revived, and when he had come to,Garry asked him if he had been shot or stabbed or wounded in any way.
"No," replied the man weakly. "One of those jacks hit me on the headwith a club, and I guess I just got groggy. I wonder if you boys couldhelp me home, I live a few hundred yards down the road."
"Indeed we will, you wait just a moment and we will improvise somethingto carry you on," replied Phil.
"No, you won't have to do that, just give me an arm to lean on; thatwill do very nicely."
The boys did as he wished, and in a few minutes of easy walking theycame to a neat little cottage, set back a few yards from the door with anumber of flower beds scattered over the little lawn.
"Oh Grace," called the man, and soon a pretty young woman came to thedoor. When she saw her husband, for so he proved to be, leaning on thearm of Garry she flew down the path and asked anxiously what was thematter.
"Nothing at all. Just wait till we get in the house and I will tell youall about it," said the stranger. Then turning to the boys, he askedthem to come in.
Anxious to hear what the cause of attack was, and why the man had wantedthe rascals to escape, the trio accepted his invitation, and soon weresitting in the attractive little living room of the cottage.
"Now I suppose you boys who so kindly helped me out of a nasty holewould like to know what the whole business is about, wouldn't you?"asked the owner of the cottage.
"We are rather curious," answered Garry speaking for the others.
"My name is Howells, Arthur first name, generally called Art by myfriends, and I am a timber scaler by occupation. I am scaling on theBoone cutting a few miles from here, and the chaps who attacked me were,until a few days ago, lumber jacks employed on the cutting. One morningI found them 'spiking a tree,' and forthwith sent a report to the officewith a demand that they be fired. For that reason they met me tonightand attempted to get satisfaction by giving me a sound beating. Perhapsit would have been worse had you boys not come along so opportunely. Idon't think they would have murdered me, but could have easily put meout of commission so that I could not work, and that is one thing that Imust do now of all times."
"But why did you want us to let them escape. I should think you wouldhave wanted them put safely under lock and key for such an unwarrantedattack," demanded Garry.
"Yes, Arthur," chimed in his wife. "I would have had them arrested andgiven a good long sentence. They might have killed you or crippled you."
"There's just one reason. One of them was Dave Pingree, son of old DaddyPingree who lives in the village near here. You know the son is aworthless scoundrel, but old Daddy has had so much trouble that I didn'twant to bring any more on him by having his son arrested, bad as he is,and as richly as he deserves to be jailed. The other one was a strangerto these parts, half breed Canadian by the name of LeBlanc, who pickedup Pingree somewhere in the woods, and who has been his constantcompanion for the past few weeks, at least since the cutting operationsof the Boone tract were started," concluded Howells.
The three boys were so startled at the sound of the name LeBlanc thatthey jumped to their feet simultaneously and asked Howells to repeat thename.
"LeBlanc is the name. But why does that surprise you so?" queried Mr.Howells in surprise.
"What is his first name," demanded Garry without answering the question.
"On the payroll he is listed as Baptiste."
"We did not get a very good look at him in the dusk," said Garry. "Wouldyou mind describing him for us, please. This is a peculiar situation,and we will tell you about it after you have described the man,"answered Garry rather agitatedly.
"Why he is a swarthy chap about twenty-seven or eight, just about thesame age as Pingree. He has black hair and mustache, and a jagged scaron one side of his neck, probably a knife wound from some lumber campfight," answered Howells.
Garry sank back with a sigh of relief.
"At any rate he is not the man we think he is. The scar and the agesettle that, although the rest of the description fits him well enoughto make him a brother to Jean LeBlanc, the one man we do want to runacross in this neck of the woods," replied Garry.
"Well, not that I want to raise any apprehension on your part, or tellyou something that is displeasing to you, he is a brother of a mancalled Jean LeBlanc. I happen to know that this is so, for one night thelumberjacks were wrestling in front of the bunkhouse and boasting abouttheir exploits, when this Baptiste came up and succeeded in throwingseveral of the men with a rather vicious hold. After he had thrownseveral of them he started boasting about his brother Jean, who hadtaught him the hold. I was standing at one side watching the wrestling,which is how I happened to overhear the matter. But why does the name ofLeBlanc bother you so?" he asked in conclusion.
"That's a rather long story," answered Garry "and perhaps I had betterstart by telling you our names. These are my chums, Phil Durant and DickWallace, while my name is Garfield Boone, generally called Garry forshort."
"I don't suppose you are any relation to the Mr. Boone who owns thistract where the summer logging is going on are you? Most people of thatname in this state are somewhat related. In fact I am a second or thirdcousin of his myself," said Howells with a smile.
"Yes, I happen to be his son," answered Garry.
"Well, that is a coincidence. I suppose you are going on to take a lookat the cutting aren't you. This being your vacation time probably youare camping and travelling around a bit," and Howells glanced at theknapsacks and rifles which the boys had stacked near the door in thehall and which could be plainly seen from the living room.
Dick was about to say something when he caught a meaning glance fromGarry, which was also seen by Phil, and which the boys interpreted as adesire on the part of Garry to do any necessary explaining that mighthave to be done.
"Yes, we were in this vicinity and thought that we would like to see howthe experiment in summer cutting was coming along," he told Howells.
"That's fine, then I shall see you around there a good deal as I amscaling. Of course coming from a lumbering family, I don't need to tellyou that scaling means measuring the timber that is cut. I also do quitea bit of timber cruising, which, as you know, means travelling throughthe cutting, marking the trees that are fit to be cut. Your father isvery particular about his lumbering, and he doesn't do as many of theother timber owners do, sweep clean through a tract of land, and make itworthless as timber land for years to come. His having certain treesmarked for cutting means that every year there will be a growth suitableto cut and market and thus he is assured of a steady income from histracts."
"Perhaps if you are not too busy every day, you could show us somethingof the lumbering operations. Although as you say, I come from a 'lumberfamily,' I don't know a great deal about timber cutting. About the onlytime I have ever been at the camps was at the spring drive, just to seethe fight for the river, and neither of my chums know any more about itthan I do. The first thing I would like to know is what did you mean by'spiking a tree'?" asked Garry.
"I don't know that I can explain that to you without having you near apiece of big timber to demonstrate what I mean, but I will try and tellyou as best I can. There is a certain way to cut a tree, or rather thereis a certain place where one always starts to cut. This place isdetermined by the diameter of the tree. If the tree is two feet thick,the cutter measures up two feet from the ground to start his cut. Ofcourse he does not measure it exactly, but long experience has taughthim to estimate almost within an inch where to start. You know sometrees are cut by axe; those are the smaller ones, but the bigger onesare sawed nearly all the way through, and then the axemen cut throughjust enough with the
ir axes to cause the tree to break off and fall.'Spiking a tree' means to take an estimate where the sawyers will start,and then drive several spikes in, using a nail set to drive them intothe tree out of sight. The hole left will close up very rapidly, or alittle dirt and moss can be stuck in so cleverly as to defy detection."
"But what harm does that do? I suppose it might kill the tree, but whatdifference does that make, since it is going to be cut down directly?"quizzed Phil who was an interested listener.
"It doesn't harm an old tree, but this is what it does, or rather figureit out for yourselves. What happens when the saw strikes three or fourheavy spikes, set in the tree just in the path of the blade?" askedHowells.
The truth flashed over the three boys in an instant, and immediatelythey felt that they accomplished one purpose of their mission to thewoods. They had discovered one of the reasons for the delay in thecutting. If several saws were to be spoiled that meant a delay ingetting new ones.
"Now here are two other things that a spike in a tree will do. If spikesare driven in young trees, several of them, that is trees that won't becut for a few years, it means that it will cause the core or heart ofthe tree to rot or break the grain. Then when the tree is finally cut, apart of the lower trunk, or best part of the tree for lumber purposes,shatters just like so much glass when it falls. That's one thing a spikewill do. Now here's another thing. Suppose that the mischief maker doesnot drive his spikes in the tree where the cut will be made, but climbsup twenty or thirty feet or so, and drives a dozen or two in differentparts of the trunk of the tree. The tree trunk is cut safely and then itis drawn to the sawmill where it is sawed into planks. What happens whenone of the big, expensive circular saws rips through a dozen spikes?It's just goodbye to the saw and goodbye to a lot of money, and means adelay of several minutes until the saw can be replaced with another. Andwhen you are cutting timber on a time contract with a penalty for everyday's delay overtime that you take, a half an hour or so lost throughtrouble with your sawmill means a big thing. Then there are two otherdangers. One is that the saw will fly off and hurt the millmen when ithits the spikes, and the other is that it sometimes will cause seriousdefects in the entire machinery, so that instead of just a few minutes'delay to change saws, you waste a day or maybe two in repairing themachinery. So that's that." Howells concluded his long description ofall the trouble one little handful of spikes could do, and then helooked rather searchingly at the boys. Finally he seemed to have decidedin his own mind to say what he was thinking and he looked at Garry.
"I wonder if your father has any idea that someone is trying to hurt hisbusiness? I don't believe for an instant that those two scoundrels weredriving those spikes just to make mischief. There is something deeperthan that behind the whole business. There are scores of petty accidentsoccurring every week that all mean delay. Sometimes when the delays aretotalled up they equal nearly half a day, and in one summer that means along delay, a matter perhaps of two weeks. That two weeks is sufficientto spoil the contract and take all the profit away, but more than that,it means a loss of capital invested, for I happen to know that yourfather is cutting under a contract that provides a heavy penalty forfailure to deliver goods as they are called for."
Garry debated with himself for a few moments, wondering whether or notto take Howells into his confidence and enlist his help. He realizedthat Howells, if he were honest as he seemed, would be an invaluable aidin discovering what the trouble at the camp was. His knowledge oftimbering was extensive, Garry could see that with half an eye, andGarry understood that he and his chums could see lots of thingshappening right under their noses and never guess the malicioussignificance of the happenings.
As he thought, Mrs. Howells settled the question for him. Reaching downto one of the shelves in the library table about which they weresitting, she produced an album.
"We are just old fashioned enough to have a family album," she laughed."I thought perhaps you would like to see a picture taken of your fathera great many years ago," and turning to one of the pages she showedGarry a picture that he recognized immediately. It showed his fatherwith a sweet faced woman. "That is your father and Mr. Howells' mother.She was his favorite cousin and she died a long time ago. This hasalways been in Arthur's possession."
Garry remembered having seen a counterpart of the picture at home a longtime ago, and he decided that the timber sealer was not claiming anyfalse relationship.
"I wonder how it is that we have never seen you before," he asked,turning to Howells.
"Easy, we went west when I was a youngster, and it was only this springthat we came back to Maine. I did not say anything about myrelationship, for I want to go on my own hook. I am a graduate of aforestry school, and I wanted to get actual experience in the woods,which was why I asked for and received the position of timber sealer. Ilike to stand in my own shoes, and so I said nothing about myrelationship to the manager at the camp. Then, too, I need money, as Ihave a small interest in a little tract of young timber, and I am payingon it a little at a time. By the time it is completely paid for it willbe ready to cut, and there will be a handsome profit on the investment,"he answered.
For a boy of his age, Garry was a pretty shrewd judge of character, andhe had been sizing up young Howells while he was talking. So he made uphis mind to take him into his confidence in a limited way, and soremarked:
"Yes, my father does know that there is something wrong at the camp, buthe cannot put his finger on the spot where the trouble is. Every time hevisits the camp things go along as smooth as clockwork, but it isimpossible to put in all this time at this one thing when he has so manyother irons in the fire. We thought that perhaps we could visit the campfor a while and find out what is wrong, and report to him so that hecould remedy the trouble. But after hearing your story of the attemptedspiking, I am beginning to think that the job is almost too much for usto handle. That would have been something I would never have dreamed of,and if the enemies in the camp, for enemies there must be, know a tricklike that, they must have a bagfull of others of which we know nothing.So you see that in a way we are helpless, and I am going to ask that youaid us in this. I can promise for my father that in case your aid isinstrumental in locating the trouble that it will not be forgotten. Whatdo you say? Will you help us?"
"Indeed I will," and Howells thrust forward his hand. "You can count onme to the last ditch!"
"Thanks," said Garry as he took the proffered hand. "Now there is onething to do, and that is to make sure that Baptiste LeBlanc is not inthese parts any more, for wherever the name of LeBlanc gets hitched upwith us there is trouble brewing!"