Dick Kent on Special Duty 21
The boys bounded to their feet and scrambled down the steep embankment.
Arriving at the abandoned camp, they observed that Burnnel’s party were
already more than a quarter of the distance across the stream. The
ponies were swimming bravely, while the two prospectors and “Rat”
MacGregor’s wife could be seen in the water beside them, clinging to the
pommels of the saddles. It was an exciting ordeal and the boys watched
the progress of the party breathlessly. Soon they had reached the center
of the river, fighting valiantly. Now they were being carried along by
the swift central current. Gradually, however, they neared the opposite
shore. They made their landing safely, a few minutes later, nearly a
mile downstream. They clambered up the slippery bank, shook then like
rats, and soon afterward disappeared from view.
The boys waited for nearly an hour, before they made any effort to
follow. Then, leading their horses down, they, too, plunged into the icy
stream. Exultant and happy, ten minutes later they waded ashore and
paused to dry their dripping garments in the hot sun, near the edge of
the river.
“Now,” grinned Dick, “we’ll look for that policeman.”
They mounted their horses and proceeded on their way. But, although they
kept the river within view, they could find no trace of the red-coated
figure they had seen only two hours before. He had vanished
mysteriously. Fearing that they had proceeded too far down along the
course of the stream, they turned back, mounting the slope. Twilight had
fallen. The boys were baffled and discouraged. When they made camp for
the night, neither had much to say. After supper they sat gloomily,
looking out across the valley.
“I’m afraid we’ve lost out all around,” complained Dick. “We may have
some difficulty in finding Burnnel’s party now. I wish we had left the
policeman to his own devices and had gone on after them.”
Sandy struck irritably at the mosquitos swarming about him.
“Think I’ll start a smudge,” he growled.
Dick rose to his feet.
“While you kindle the fire, I’ll go along the slope and get an arm-load
of moss.”
Suiting the action to the word, he started away, walking leisurely. He
had gone less than fifty yards, when he drew back, startled. Unless his
eyes had deceived him, he had seen something—a movement in the brush.
Trembling, he took up a position in the deep shadows, close to a willow
copse, straining his eyes through the obscurity.
“Might be a deer,” he thought.
He had really not expected to see a man. Yet a man it was. Creel! Dick
blinked. The old recluse stood limned in the darkening twilight,
scarcely twenty feet away. His attitude was that of a hunted beast. His
long hair fell over his eyes in straggly disorder, giving him the
appearance of a madman. His long beard fluttered lightly in the breeze.
Dick’s heart leaped. Creel was coming straight toward him. Cold sweat
beaded Dick’s brow. He was shaking as if from the ague. Nearer and
nearer came Creel. Only a few feet away now—almost upon him!
Then, suddenly, for no apparent reason, the recluse paused. Dick could
hear his labored breathing. Some intuitive sense had warned the man of
impending danger. For a full minute he remained perfectly still, his
gaze darting from right to left. He took one step forward cautiously. A
second step. Again he paused. He was so close now, that Dick could
almost reach out his hand and touch him. The young man’s mind was
awhirl, dizzy with conflicting impulses. His quarry within his grasp,
and yet he hesitated. Why, he did not know.
The recluse took one more step and in that instant caught sight of the
crouching form. He attempted to turn, one hand struggling at his belt.
Dick lunged forward, catching Creel around the knees, bearing him down.
The struggle was short but spirited.
“No use,” panted Dick, “I’ve got you!”
Creel’s struggles subsided.
“What do you want with me?” choked the captive, as Dick pinioned his
arms.
“The police are looking for you, Creel,” the other breathed in his ear.
“The game’s up. You’ll have to come along with me.”
Securing the other’s revolver, Dick rose to his feet.
“Come on now,” he ordered, “Get up!”
He drove Creel ahead of him to the place where he and Sandy had made
camp. In the dim light, Sandy saw the approaching shadows, but as yet
was unaware of the presence of a third person.
“Did you bring the moss?” he inquired petulantly. “What kept you so
long?”
“Sandy,” Dick’s voice quavered, “come here!” The young Scotchman put
down the branch, which he had been breaking into short lengths, and
strode forward. His astonishment was unbounded.
“Creel!” he exclaimed. “Where did you find him, Dick?”
“Out there,” Dick pointed. Then, turning upon the old recluse: “Hand
over the contents of that poke,” he ordered, pressing his revolver close
to the man’s chest.
Creel backed away.
“I haven’t it,” he whined. “It’s gone—gone! Release me, I tell you. I
haven’t it.”
“You had it,” said Dick. “What did you do with it?”
“They took it,” answered Creel, his voice rising almost to a scream.
“Who?”
“Burnnel and Emery. That woman.”
“Where did you meet them?”
“Back there,” the recluse waved one arm. “I came on them unexpectedly.”
He shook in his agitation. “Wasn’t even thinking about them. I—I— The
policeman— He was following me. Ever since last night.”
The story seemed plausible, yet in order to make sure that their captive
spoke the truth, they searched his pockets, which proved to be almost as
bare as their own.
“Did they take your money too?” Dick demanded.
“Yes.”
“Where are they camped now?”
“About a mile from here. They turned me loose less than an hour ago.”
“Creel,” said Sandy, “there’s one thing I wish you’d explain. What are
you doing here so far from the trail?”
“Trying to get away from that policeman,” came the answer. “I was on my
way south to Peace River Crossing, when I met him on the trail. He had
me cornered. He was sitting there on his horse, waiting for me. I could
see that. But I gave him the slip. I dropped off my horse and ducked
into the thick timber on the left side of the trail. I ran. I was sure
that I could get away from him. I knew that no horse could follow me
there. But he kept on my trail, and several times that night and today,
I caught sight of him following me.”
Sandy’s voice broke the next interval of silence. “What’s to be done
now?”
“I’m going over to the outlaws’ camp,” declared Dick with grim decision.
“But what will we do with Creel?”
“You can stay here and watch him.”
Sandy caught his breath.
“Do you mean to say you’d tackle ’em all alone, Dick? A terrible risk!
They’d be sure to get you.”
“No, they’ll be too surprised to do anything. They won’t expect me.”
Sandy put one trembling hand to his face.
“I—I hate to think of it. You’d be all right if only Toma were with you.
But alone—”
He paused, choking.
“I’ll set out right away,” said Dick, “and you needn’t worry, Sandy.
I’ll promise to be careful. I won’t take any more chances than
necessary. Perhaps I’ll find them asleep.”
He turned to go. Sandy sprang after him, seizing his arm.
“If anything happens to you, Dick, I’ll—I’ll feel that it’s all my
fault. But don’t forget that I’m with you. If—if they should happen to
take you prisoner, I’ll manage your release somehow.”
“I know you will, Sandy,”—in a smothered voice.
“Good-bye, Dick.”
“Good-bye.”
Dick stumbled forward through the shadows, his heart beating wildly. A
mile to Burnnel’s camp. Not far! He’d move cautiously. He mustn’t fail
now. Victory was in their hands.
The shadows were very dark along the ridge, and far below came the
murmur of the river. From its darkened perch, an owl hooted dismally.
CHAPTER XX
A THRILLING EXPERIENCE
Though only a short distance away, Burnnel’s camp proved to be hard to
find. It was darker than usual that night, owing to the fact that the
sky was overcast. It is doubtful if Dick would have discovered the camp
at all, had he not, after nearly an hour of beating futilely about in
the underbrush, been attracted by the dull red glow of a dying campfire.
Stealing upon his enemies with a quaking heart, he had soon advanced
within the circle of light made by the glowing red embers. Near the fire
were stretched the forms of the two prospectors, while thirty or forty
feet away lay the woman.
The camp slumbered. Conditions could not have been more favorable for
Dick’s project. It would be easy to walk over, gun in hand, and awaken
the sleepers. Neither of them would have the least opportunity to offer
resistance.
“It’s dead easy,” Dick argued with himself. “I can’t fail. It’s all as
easy as A, B, C.”
Yet he hesitated. He had planned his approach and knew exactly what he
was going to do and say. But, somehow, it was easier to think about it
than to act. Once or twice he started determinedly forward, but as
quickly checked himself.
“I don’t know what’s the matter with me,” he breathed. “Any minute they
may awake, and yet I’m standing here.”
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