Finally Mr. Boone turned to him, and stretching out his hand, advanced and said: “Don’t you know me, Richard?”

THE RANGER BOYS AND THEIR REWARD

By CLAUDE A. LABELLE

Author of

“The Ranger Boys to the Rescue,” “The Ranger Boys
Find the Hermit,” “The Ranger Boys and the
Border Smugglers,” “The Ranger Boys
Outwit the Timber Thieves.”

A. L. BURT COMPANY
Publishers New York

THE RANGER BOYS SERIES

A Series of Stories for Boys 12 to 16 Years of Age

By CLAUDE A. LABELLE

The Ranger Boys to the Rescue

The Ranger Boys Find the Hermit

The Ranger Boys and the Border Smugglers

The Ranger Boys Outwit the Timber Thieves

The Ranger Boys and Their Reward

Copyright, 1922
By A. L. BURT COMPANY
THE RANGER BOYS AND THEIR REWARD
Made in “U. S. A.”

THE RANGER BOYS AND THEIR REWARD

CHAPTER I
THE PLEA FOR HELP

“Well, now that everything is going all right at the camp here, I suppose we might as well say goodbye to our friends and get ready for the return to the West Branch and resume our duties on the forest fire patrol,” remarked Garfield Boone to his chums as they sat in the crude office of the lumber camp.

“Yes, this seems to be the best thing to do, but I almost dislike the thought of going back. After all the excitement that we’ve had lately, it will be dead slow on the hill. Nothing to do but walk the patrol and take our turns in the Tin Can,” agreed Phil Durant.

The third member of the trio of friends, tried and true, merely yawned and said nothing. This was Dick Wallace, rather a heavy chap. Some people would have called him fat, but he always referred to himself as merely plump.

“Come, say something, Dick. You’ve been sitting here for an hour and the most you’ve said is yes or no, sometimes you didn’t even say that. What’s the trouble?” inquired Garry.

“Gosh, can’t you fellows see that I’m just resting? You want me to say something? All right. I wonder what we’ll have for dinner today?”

His friends broke into hearty laughter. Dick’s appetite was a standing joke with them, likewise his weight; for he always took the easiest way of doing things when speed was not required. This does not mean that the fat youth was a shirker or naturally lazy. When occasion demanded it, he was all speed and as quick as a flash of lightning. Like many heavy people, he could move with the utmost celerity if need be, but his attitude was why hurry when you didn’t have to. Time enough for that when something arose that demanded action.

“I say, boys, there’s old Lawrence with a mail bag. You know he went to town at daybreak to get the mail. Wonder if there’s anything for us?” remarked Phil, as he spied the old lumberjack coming towards them.

“Shouldn’t wonder if there was a letter from home for some of us,” answered Garry, as he stuck his head out of the door and called to the man to bring them what mail there was.

“Three for Garry, one apiece for the rest of you,” said Lawrence, as he handed them the small bundle of envelopes.

The boys made a dive for the mail and soon each was busily engaged in perusing the letter or letters sent him.

As they are reading their letters, let us get acquainted with the heroes of this coming volume. Those of our readers who have read the preceding four volumes in this series, “The Ranger Boys to the Rescue,” “The Ranger Boys Find the Hermit,” “The Ranger Boys and the Border Smugglers,” and “The Ranger Boys Outwit the Timber Thieves,” are already acquainted with the trio and the stirring adventures they have had. For the benefit of others, however, we will give a slight history of what they have done.

The three boys, whose names we already know, have just finished their junior year in high school, and while wondering what to do for their last vacation together, are told by Garry’s father, a wealthy timberland owner, that he will get them places in the Maine Forest Ranger Service.

The duty of the men on this service is to patrol the forests constantly on the lookout for forest fires, and if any are discovered, to report them promptly, as well as trying to do what they can to put out the blaze.

A short way up the river near their home the boys have a shack, and one afternoon they go there to find it occupied by three tramps who seize Phil and Garry. Dick makes his escape and brings help from town.

It is discovered that the three are badly wanted for robbing postoffices, and the chums receive a sizable reward for their capture.

This money they use, or rather a part of it, to outfit themselves for the forest. On the way to their work they make friends with one Nate Webster, an old Maine guide who later does them many a good turn. They also incur the enmity of a French Canadian halfbreed named Jean LeBlanc, who finds out that one is the son of Mr. Boone, a man he has hated for years.

While on their patrol they meet a party of New York campers, and are instrumental in saving the little daughter of Mr. Graham, head of the party. A day or two later LeBlanc captures the child and intends to hold it for ransom.

A queer, unknown individual writes them constant notes informing them of what is going on. This man they call the Hermit. Garry finally rescues little Patty, and LeBlanc is captured only to break out of jail later on.

The halfbreed continually crosses their trail, causing them all kinds of trouble, and several times endangering their lives. He sets fire to the forest, and almost causes the death of the boys and a party of motion picture people who are taking a forest picture. Having checkmated him, they set out to find the Hermit, following a clue given them in a cipher note, and Dick succeeds in finding the old man, who is evidently a gentleman, yet seems to be a trifle unbalanced mentally.

So well do they succeed at their work in the forest, that when a gang of fur smugglers start operations on the Canadian border, the Chief Ranger recommends to the Customs authorities that they be sent to help.

They are instrumental in aiding an old man who has been caught in a disused bear trap in the woods, and meet his granddaughter Ruth. They get evidence against the smugglers after some thrilling escapes, and find that part of the contraband of the smugglers includes some wonderful jewels. LeBlanc is mixed up in this, but makes his escape across the border, where the American Customs authorities cannot pursue him.

Coming into possession of a torn map, they work out its solution and discover a rich mine of tourmalines, those gems that are famous in the State of Maine, and are valuable both as jewels and as parts of electrical apparatus.

As they plan to return to their work as Rangers, they are asked by Mr. Boone to aid him in unraveling the mystery of the trouble at his summer logging camp.

Again they find LeBlanc is mixed up in the theft of the timber, and after a half a dozen narrow escapes from disaster, meet with success. LeBlanc makes a mad dash for freedom and succeeds in swimming to meet a motor boat containing some of his friends, including his brother, Baptiste, who is just as great a villain as Jean.

In several of their adventures they have put to good use a wireless telephone outfit given them by Mr. Graham in gratitude for the double rescue of his little daughter, Patty.

In the preceding volume Dick called for help when the timber thieves had besieged the camp and captured the men loyal to Mr. Boone. Through the machinations of Barrows, the camp manager, much of the timber had been stolen, and enough harm done to seriously hinder Boone from keeping his contracts to deliver a certain supply of lumber at a set date.

Thanks to the boys’ work, however, the plot was nipped before it had gotten too far, and so we meet them now in the camp office after order has been restored, and the men are working doubly hard to aid their employer.

Just one more thing must be explained, and that is the mystery that entered Dick’s life when he was a mere child. His father, a friend of Garry’s father, had been professor of botany at an Eastern university. Dick’s mother died when he was a baby. One day Professor Wallace fell from his horse and received an injury that made him lose his memory. Before he could be operated upon he escaped from the hospital, in delirium, and had not been heard of from that day.

Out of sincere friendship for his old schoolmate, Mr. Boone had taken Dick into his home and, after formally adopting him, brought him up as he did his own son, Garry.

Now to return to the boys, who are just finishing their letters.

“Who is all that mail for you from?” quizzed Phil, as he spied Garry finishing his third letter.

“Well, you chaps were pining for more excitement, and dreading to go back to the humdrum patrolling of the forest, and it looks as though your desire for action was to be gratified,” answered Garry. “One of these letters is from Mother. The other two are from Augusta; that is, one is from the Chief Ranger and the other is enclosed in his message. That one is from a young lady.”

“What young lady would write to you, anyway, and why should she send it through the Ranger?” scoffed Phil.

“It’s from a young lady who lives on the Canadian border. Does that tell you anything?” replied Garry.

“Aha,” shouted Dick, as light broke on him. “Phil, it’s a love letter!”

“Nothing of the sort,” retorted Garry, though he flushed up a bit. “It’s a plea for help.”

This made the others stop their good-natured chaffing of their leader, for it was Garry who was the elected chief of the trio, and they importuned him to hurry up and read the messages.

“First, then, is the one from Ruth, who says that she and her grandfather have received several threatening letters, claiming that all kinds of misfortune will follow them unless they leave their home and get out of that section of the country. Along with her letter is the one from the Chief Ranger, who says that in addition to the threatening letters that have been sent, there are some peculiar doings in the postal way at Hobart, and as we had such success in helping the Customs man, he has recommended that we be sent to Hobart to aid the postal inspector, who is on his way there now. So that’s the story in a nutshell.”

Dick jumped to his feet, all his “resting” forgotten. He seized Phil by the shoulders and did a regular war dance, dragging the protesting Phil, who was of a quieter disposition, around the floor of the office.

“Whe-e-e—, that means a trip back to the border, and all kinds of things may happen there again. Let’s get going; we can pack in a few minutes and get to town in time to catch a late train for Bangor.”

“All right; see how quick we can get packed up. Also, I wish one of you boys would pack up for me; some of my stuff is scattered around the shack; and be sure and pack the radio carefully. I had it out overhauling it this morning. I want to arrange about leaving, and see Art Howells, the new manager, and tell him to try and get some trace of Sandy before we go.”

The mention of Sandy brought sadness to the boys. He was a big Airedale that they all loved, and had been stolen or wandered away a short time after they had reached the logging camp.

Away went the chums to pack, and Garry sought out Howells. The new manager assured Garry that he would do his best to find some track of the dog.

Howells also sent a man to get Mr. Boone, who was still at the camp helping reorganize the men after the trouble of the preceding days. When Garry returned to the office, he found his chums, awaiting him. They had packed in a hurry, for Dick was still stuffing down the contents of his knapsack as Garry entered the shack.

“We’ll be all set in a few minutes,” declared Dick. “Have you sent for Dad Boone, Garry?”

“Yes, he’ll be here in a few minutes; he is only at the sawmill. Sure you have everything packed? Haven’t you forgotten anything?” asked Garry.

“Everything is as right as a trivet,” answered Phil. “Wonder if we can get the old Ford that was brought here yesterday to ride into town on; it will save us a long hike and will get us there quicker.”

“Guess we can have it all right; we’ll see as soon as Father comes,” answered Garry.

At this moment Mr. Boone entered the office, and noticing the excited air of the boys, and the packed knapsacks, asked in some surprise if they were not in an awful hurry to get back to work.

It took only a few hasty words to acquaint him with the new situation that had just arisen, and as Garry concluded the explanation he asked for the use of the old auto to carry them to town.

This request was readily granted by Mr. Boone, and he wished the boys good luck on their venture.

“I had hoped that you would go back to the mountain for the rest of the summer,” he said, “where there is some peace and quietness. It seems that you have stepped into trouble at almost every turn, and there is only one thing that I worry about. That is LeBlanc. He is a most vindictive rascal, and I will not feel confident of your security until you are off to school this fall or until he is safely under lock and key in some prison, where he belongs. I hope you boys have no wild times on this, yet I would be the last one to ask you to shirk your duty; and since the Chief Ranger has such a high regard for you, who are yet boys, to send you on such an errand, I can only say I’m proud that you have done so well, and deserve all the praise that can be accorded to you. Also, I wish that you would postpone your departure for a few minutes, as I want to write a note to Nate Webster for you to mail when you get to Bangor. It will go quicker then, for the train that you will take this afternoon does not carry mail.”

Naturally they agreed to this, and went outside while Mr. Boone wrote his note. In some way it had been noised about the camp that the boys were to leave, and soon several of the men had gathered in front of the office. Mr. Boone finished his letter, and gave it to Garry and they got into the flivver. The man called Tom, who had taken them on the coon hunt some nights before, started several times to speak, and then decided not to.

Just as they were about to start, Garry called to Art Howells to be sure and keep an eye out for news of Sandy’s fate. There was a gulp in his throat as he said this. His chums, too, were silent, for they missed their faithful, four-footed friend sorely.

This evidently decided Tom, for he came to the flivver, and said to Garry:

“If you can get me time off enough to go to town with you, I promise you that you will have your dog a half an hour after we reach there!”

CHAPTER II
BAD NEWS IN HOBART

On hearing this, the boys gave a shout of joy, and in a minute had arranged for Tom to come with them as far as town.

With the cheers of the lumberjacks sounding in their ears, and with a wave of Mr. Boone and Art Howells, the boys were off. The flivver coughed, and gathering speed, rattled down the bumpy road.

As soon as they had started, they hurled a number of questions at Tom about Sandy.

“I wasn’t goin’ to say anything about the dog, because you fellows might take it out on us. My brother came to see me in camp the day after the coon hunt, and stayed around for awhile and made half sort of friends with the dog, and then later he was gone. I found out that he had taken him with him. ’Course I know it was stealing, but he was my brother and I was afraid he would get into bad trouble. You fellows know how I felt. First place I was ashamed to tell you I had a brother that would do that, and second place I was afraid you’d have him taken up for it. But I was going to see that you got him back somehow. When you got ready to go today, I knew how you felt about the pup, and so I couldn’t hold in any longer. All I wish is that you won’t have anything done to my brother, bad as he is.”

The boys were so overjoyed with the thought of regaining Sandy that they immediately promised Tom that the matter would be forgotten.

Speeding up the machine as soon as they struck better road, they made excellent time and reached the village ahead of their schedule. They went direct to the station to get their tickets, while Tom departed for his brother’s house to bring Sandy to them. After buying their tickets, they were on tenterhooks waiting the return of their animal friend.

True to his word, Tom was at the station in half an hour. But Sandy beat him by several seconds, for no sooner did he get his first sight of the boys than he broke from the leash by which Tom was leading him and made a mad dash for the chums. He nearly knocked Garry over as he leaped on him, then he jumped from one boy to another in frantic glee, giving vent to sharp barks of delight as the boys mauled him in their joy at seeing him again.

“Sorry we’ll have to put you in the baggage car on the trip, old timer,” said Garry, “but the railroads have a rule against big fellows like you being in the car.”

At last the train came in and they were on their way. Sandy voiced unqualified disapproval at being tied up in the crowded baggage car, and occasionally one or another of the boys went ahead and petted him a few minutes.

The train was a slow one, and it was nearly eight o’clock when they reached the Penobscot River city. For once they were quite ready to follow Dick’s lead and get “eats,” then they went to the hotel and reserved rooms. They found that their train was to leave fairly early in the morning, but as not one of them was tired, they took a walk down through the business center of the town.

As they passed a brightly lighted drug store, Dick noticed something in the window.

“There, I knew there was something we ought to have had on our other trips,” he announced to the others.

“Hold him, Phil, he’s going to buy something again. Remember how he wouldn’t go on without that knife last time he was here?” said Garry.

“Gosh, that reminds me I left that knife in the cabin at the little lake,” he ejaculated. “I wonder if that chap is still around here selling ’em?”

“Hardly; he was just one of those sidewalk merchants that are here today and gone tomorrow” answered Garry. “But what is it that you want to buy now?”

“Look at that display in the window, and see if you don’t think we ought to have an outfit” answered Dick as he waved his hand toward the indicated window.

“Well, for once you see something sensible. We might have a lot of use for them the remainder of the summer, and it will give us some nice souvenirs.”

What Dick had seen was a display of cameras, and followed by his chums he entered the store and soon had purchased a good camera and a sufficient quantity of films to take a number of pictures. As an afterthought, he bought material to develop a limited amount of the pictures, explaining that they might be able to print some in spare moments.

“Go ahead and buy whatever you want,” laughed Garry, “only remember that this stuff all goes in your pack, and you will have to carry the extra weight.”

This, however, failed to bother Dick, and he bought such articles as he needed.

They were about to return to the hotel, when Garry noticed a policeman coming down the street. This called to mind the night they had been near arrest and had received the torn map that eventually led them to the secret tourmaline mine.

“Let’s drop around to the station and see if the Chief of Police might be in. I’d like to say howdy to him, even if he once did have an idea that we were a crew of runaways,” he suggested to his companions.

The idea was instantly approved, and they changed their direction and headed for the station. They were just in time, for the Chief was preparing to leave for home. He recognized the boys immediately and invited them into his office for a chat. The few minutes lengthened into an hour, for the Chief made them tell him about the smuggling band and how they had aided in the capture.

“I happen to know something about it, for some of them were brought here for a hearing before the United States Commissioner, and I attended the hearing. It’s natural in you boys, I suppose, to be modest about it, but I wish that I had a son, or three of them like you, that could get out and do such a creditable bit of work as you did. If you ever want a job, apply to me,” he concluded with a laugh in which the boys joined.

The visit over, they hustled back to the hotel and to sleep, as they were booked for early rising.

A sharp tatoo on the door awoke them in the morning, and they hurried into their clothes, for they had no more than time to eat and get to the station.

Aboard the train they chose seats, as was their custom, in the smoking car, not that any of the trio was addicted to smoking, but because they generally found several interesting characters to watch, and this happened to pass away the time.

Then, too, on one occasion, they had obtained a valuable clue that aided them greatly in the successful carrying out of the mission they had been sent on, and on their first trip they had made the acquaintance of Nate Webster in the smoker of a train.

They found facing seats and stowed their packs and rifles in the racks overhead, and settled down for the weary ride that would take them to Hobart. As was usual in this train, there were a number of picturesque characters: lumberjacks going north to the woods, guides returning after taking parties on camping trips, or going to meet parties that were awaiting them along the way, French Canadians bound for towns on the other side of the border, and several men who were evidently bound on an extended fishing trip, to judge from the paraphernalia they carried with them. The boys were just a little bit amused at the amount of luggage that they carried. It was piled at one end of the car, and from the looks of it would have required the services of at least three porters to carry for them. This, by the way, is the mistake made by the average camper, unless someone wise in the ways of the woods gives them a friendly tip and tells them to travel light.

Each of the boys always made shift to travel with only one knapsack each and everything that was not absolutely necessary was discarded. As it was, their packs were quite heavy, for they had their carrying sets of the wireless ’phone; but these were fairly light, since they had been specially made for the Rangers by Mr. Graham.

Garry and Dick amused themselves by playing checkers on a small pocket board that was their constant companion, while Phil wandered through the car stopping to watch several of the card games that were in progress and listening to the conversation. As our previous readers know, Phil could talk French as well as he could English, but this was an accomplishment that the trio kept a strict secret, since it enabled them at times to get valuable information. Naturally a great deal of this language was spoken in this section of the country, and more so as they approached the border and other men got aboard.

Phil’s trip was fruitless as far as getting any information was concerned, for all the men were talking only of the most trivial subjects.

“What luck?” asked Garry, when Phil finally returned to his seat.

“Nothing at all. There is no one on the train that I remember having seen when we were here before, and everyone seems to be all right. It is unlikely that I should have found out anything about the postal trouble, for there is probably some single person at the bottom of that, rather than a band such as that of the smugglers that we ran down last time,” said Phil. “But there is one thing that I thought of as I walked through the cars. We will be only a short hike away from our mine when we get to Hobart, and I wonder if we wouldn’t have time to make a little visit there and see that no one else has stumbled on the secret. I wish I could pick about twenty of the best tourmalines, for the money they would bring would be mighty welcome.”

“Guess great minds run in the same channel,” remarked Garry, “for I was thinking of the same thing not very long ago. But I have a better idea. By the time we get this business here settled up, it will be fairly well along in the summer, and it seems to me it would be useless to go back to the patrol for such a short time. We will want to have a few days at home before we go to military school this fall, and so I suggest that after this mission is ended, we get relieved from duty and go and mine some of the tourmalines. We ought to get quite a bit of the work done, for it is a comparatively easy job to get them out, and then we can hire a couple of guards to watch them until such time as we can come back, or get some trustworthy person to operate it for us; such a man as Nate Webster, for instance.”

“That would be a jolly good idea,” remarked Dick. “I’d like a chance at mining just to see how the thing is done.”

“Well, we’ll have to forget about that for the time being, for we have a big enough job on our hands for the present if we meet with any success on this business. As a matter of fact, we won’t be able to do a great deal on this anyway. It is something that we know nothing about, and I imagine that the only reason we were sent here at all is because we have had a chance to learn something about the country here and know some of the people in Hobart. As for giving any advice to the inspector, that of course is out of the question. Really, this thing looks more like a vacation to me than anything else,” concluded Garry.

“You never can tell what will happen,” remarked Dick sagely. “There’s one thing I would like to do before we quit here for the summer, and that is cause LeBlanc to be taken up and held where he can do no more mischief for a time. He gets worse every week, and there is no telling what he will do in the end. I wonder if he is the one that sent the letters to our friends? You know they were instrumental in bringing his smuggling plot to a disastrous end, and he is of the vengeful type that would seek some mean satisfaction.”

“I rather doubt that he is the one,” said Garry. “It is more likely some friend of Lafe Green, for he probably has some pals that were not caught in the net of the law when the smugglers were rounded up.”

“Well, we can do little until we get there and see what it is all about. There’s nothing to be gained by idle speculating as to the perpetrator of the offense, so we might as well take it easy till we reach our destination,” advised Garry.

The morning dragged on, and the boys welcomed the half hour stop for dinner. They ate in the same restaurant where they had met the Customs man some weeks before.

Their own dinner procured, they got something for Sandy and carried it to the baggage car.

The dog raised such a howl when they started to leave that Garry volunteered to ride in the baggage car for a while, provided the baggageman was willing. He heartily agreed to allow Garry to remain, and the others returned to the smoker.

The particular route over which they were traveling was not one of the best, and occasionally they were forced to wait while other trains made connections.

About half way though the afternoon, as they were waiting on a siding to allow a fast freight from across the border to have right of way, the boys remarked on the fact that several tramps seemed to have made a special train of it. They observed three hanging to the end, grasping the trainman’s iron rungs for support.

The train had half passed when Dick grasped Phil by the arm.

“Look quick. There’s one of the tramps that we caught in our shack at home!”

Phil cast a quick glance and what he saw corroborated Dick.

“There, I’m glad you saw him too,” announced Dick, “for I am sure it was one of the gang. If I alone had seen him, you boys might have said that I was seeing things. I move we drop out and tell Garry, and one of us can stay behind with Sandy and let Garry come back to the car.”

This was done, and Garry was much interested in their story.

“You remember we saw them in this section once before, and it is possible they are making a stamping ground of this place. Now all we need is a glimpse of LeBlanc and we’ll have all our enemies with us. We might make a grand slam and clean them all out.”

Two hours of riding brought them at last to Hobart, and they gathered their traps and disembarked.

Ruth and her grandfather, John Everett, were waiting to meet them. Mr. Everett had fully recovered from his accident with the bear trap, and both he and his granddaughter greeted the boys warmly.

“First thing we want is to hear the whole story and then we will see what we can devise in the way of plans for putting an end to the annoyance. Shall we walk towards your house and you can tell us on the way?” asked Garry.

At the mention of house, both Ruth and her grandfather looked sad, and Mr. Everett answered their query about walking in that direction.

“Just now we haven’t any house. It was burned to the ground last night, and evidence seems to point to the fact that it was deliberately set on fire!”

CHAPTER III
LAFE COMES BACK

The news shocked the boys into silence for a moment, then Garry burst out indignantly:

“Well, that’s about the meanest thing I ever heard of. Are you sure that it was deliberately fired?”

“We are convinced of it,” said the old man. “The blaze started in a half a dozen places at the same time. There was nothing that we could do to save our home. As a matter of fact, we barely got out some of our clothes. Of course we have insurance, but that will never cover the loss of things that cannot be replaced,—some of my old books, for instance.”

“It seems likely that the man or men who have sent the threatening letters are the same who fired the house,” mused Garry aloud.

“Yes,” said Mr. Everett, “when we first received the letters we thought that they might be a practical joke; and later, when they still continued to come, we took it to be a means of frightening us. I thought for a time that it might be some one whose enmity I had personally incurred, but when Ruth got them too, with hints as to why they were being sent, namely, the matter of the smuggling attempt and capture a short time ago, I knew that it was some member of the band who was still at large.”

Garry pondered for a moment, Then he remarked:

“There would seem to be only two sources from which the letters would come. One is from some friend or friends of Lafe Green, and the other—but that seems almost impossible.”

“Who are you thinking of?” inquired the old man quickly.

“Why, I was thinking of Jean LeBlanc,” answered Garry slowly. “What makes me think that impossible is that I know where he has been for some little time, and he doubtless did not send them, for he was too busy with his other infernal mischief.”

Ruth then interrupted the conversation.

“Suppose we leave and go to Aunt Abby’s house, and talk about things, instead of standing here like a pack of sticks. Aunt Abbie isn’t really our aunt,” she said, turning to the boys. “She’s an old lady who lives all alone in a big house, and occasionally she takes in people to board and room. That’s where we are staying now.”

This suggestion was voted a sensible one, and the party proceeded to the house referred to.

There they were met by Aunt Abbie, a little, old, grey haired person, who beamed when she was introduced to the boys.

“I’ve heard a lot about you boys from Ruth,” she told them; “especially about Garry.”

Phil and Dick burst into laughter, which they choked off as soon as possible, while Garry turned a fiery red. He knew what was in store for him as soon as they were alone.

They were ushered into the trim parlor and took up the conversation where it had been left at the station.

Ruth’s grandfather asked what the boys knew of LeBlanc’s latest movements, and this naturally led to the telling of the occurrences that transpired at the lumber camp. The boys did not tell this until they were hard pressed to, for they were modest when it came to their own achievements. Finally the story came out, each of the boys telling a portion of it in turn.

“I wonder if that halfbreed could not have been at the bottom of this after all. It was only a few days ago that he came to the camp, and we have gotten the letters at intervals during the past three weeks. He could easily have sent them through some friend. My only hope is that he is not in this section again, but that arson business was what I would have expected of a man of his stamp,” concluded Mr. Everett.

“Wonder if the tramps could have had anything to do with it? You know the old saying about birds of a feather flocking together, and it would be like them to hitch up,” queried Dick.

“Yes, that’s possible but not exactly probable,” said Garry.

“Have you the letters?” asked Phil.

“Yes, they’re upstairs. Wait a minute and I’ll run up and get them,” said Ruth; and away she went to do the errand.

She was back in a few moments and handed them to Phil. The boys crowded around to see them. They were all printed in a coarse lettering, mostly on scraps of old wrapping paper; one was on a hand-bill, and two or three on a cheap grade of stationery such as may be bought at any notion store.

The letters were all of the same tenor, warning the man and girl to leave town at once else misfortune would visit them.

“There isn’t much of a clue of any sort in the letters themselves, but let’s see the envelopes; perhaps they will be more enlightening,” remarked Garry.

The envelopes were all of the same variety, cheap and flimsy as was the paper. The postmarks were varied. Most of them were evidently mailed in Hobart, but one had come across the border, as its Canadian stamp bore testimony, and three came from the little town of Coldenham, several miles up along the border.

“Not much help in these after all,” said Garry in a disappointed tone. “We might go to these various offices and see if the postmasters have any remembrance of who mailed them, but that is too faint a clue to waste time following up.”

“Say, here’s something that might help. Just see how this sentence is worded,” broke in Phil. “‘It is that the town you must leave immediately.’ Now no person who was familiar with the English language would have said it that way. The more likely phrasing would have been, ‘You must leave town immediately.’ And that makes me certain that only one man wrote those letters.”

“Jean LeBlanc!” burst out Garry and Dick almost in the same breath.

“That’s what I think myself. I’d stake a lot that I am right,” said Phil. He began to look through the other letters and, as he expected, his scrutiny revealed several other little oddities of language.

They were still discussing the matter when Aunt Abbie entered to announce that supper was ready. The boys protested that they could not put her to so much trouble, but were instantly hushed by the old lady.

“She prides herself on her cooking, and you’ll hurt her feelings if you protest,” whispered Ruth to the boys, so the party trooped out to the dining room where an ample supper was waiting them.

As they ate, the question of quarters for the night came up, and Garry suggested that they go to the lean-to which they had built in the woods outside of the town on their previous visit; but Aunt Abbie would not hear of this, and insisted that they stay there.

“Land sakes, I have enough room here for all of you, and I like to have people in this big, lonely house. Keeps me young to have young people around me, too.”

So it was settled that they should stay there for the night, but the boys decided that in the morning they would visit the lean-to, and repair any slight damage that might have been done to it, and make their quarters there during their stay, for they thought they might be in and out a good deal in search for the writer of the threatening letters.

After supper Dick announced that in the morning he was going to try his hand at photographing the letters. This led to another examination of the notes, and Garry made a discovery.

“Look, there is a distinct sign of a fingerprint here. The paper looks as though it might at one time have been wrapped around a piece of bacon and is slightly greasy; enough to take a fingerprint. When you take your pictures in the morning, Dick, I will fix it so the print will show up.”

Supper over, the boys decided to walk to the postoffice and interview the postmaster, whose name they found out was Denton. They also ascertained that he had held this position for nearly twenty years.

The postoffice was located in the general store, where they had often purchased provisions while on the trail of the smugglers. Denton was soon found, and the boys proceeded to recall themselves to him. He greeted them warmly and asked if they were on another camping trip. This last was accompanied by a sly wink, for naturally he had heard of the part they had played in running down Lafe Green and his gang. He showed no surprise when the boys asked if they could hold a private conversation with him.

Denton led the way back to a little cubby hole of an office, furnished only with a desk and a fair-sized safe. In this, the boys judged, he kept stamps and the records of the postoffice, as well as what money he took in during the day’s trading at the store.

Garry briefly explained what their purpose in coming back to Hobart was, and exhibited the letter sent by the Chief Ranger as authority for their statements.

Denton glanced at the letter and then leaned back in his chair.

“Well, I’ll tell you all there is to tell. I suppose you’ve seen the letters that contained the threats, and if you can figure out who sent them, it’s more than I can do. Just probably a case of spite against ’em, and will doubtless blow over. I’ve always held to the opinion that barking dogs never bite.”

“Seems to me that the dog bit this time,” remarked Garry dryly.

“How so?”

“Why, the setting afire of the house last night.”

“Oh, that. Well, there may be other reasons. Mr. Everett has a whole lot of enemies. He’s pretty freespoken with his tongue. ’Course he’s generally right in what he says, but there’s nothing that hurts like the truth in some cases. All that’s a matter for the sheriff to help out with. On the big matter we can’t do anything till the postoffice inspector gets here. I’m expecting he’ll arrive some time tomorrow, next day at the latest,” said Denton.

The boys looked up in surprise. The “other matter” was a new one on them.

Garry looked at Denton, and in a rather bewildered tone asked:

“What other matter?”

This time it was Denton’s turn to look surprised.

“Seems to me that is the thing we have to worry about. I don’t know as I ought to say anything more about it to you. ’Course I figure you’re all right, but you should know about that if you’re going to help out on it.”

Garry spent a few moments in argument, and finally convinced Denton that they were all right in this matter, and at last, after giving the subject several moments of thought, he enlightened them.

“Why, I’m referring to the robbery of the mail that goes to the paper mill!”

The trio looked aghast at this piece of news. This was a brand new angle to them, and they pressed the postmaster to give them the details.

“There ain’t much to tell. You probably know there’s a pulp mill up the line aways at Coldenham. The owner is a queer old cuss; Scotch feller name of Ferguson. He’s pretty near the richest man in this neck o’ the woods and peculiar in lots of ways. Has this big pulp mill, but won’t have a business office in Portland or Boston, but does everything from the mill there. Owns the bank in the town, too, so all his money goes through there. Now all mail that goes to Coldenham from round Boston or New York comes through this office. Mostly always it lays over a bit in this office, for the only railroad between here and Coldenham is a short haul road that’s owned by Ferguson; more money for him you see. We get the mail on the regular mail train here and then transfer it and send it along to him. Once in a while his mail comes too late to catch the return trip of his train and then we send it along to him by a flivver. Have a regular rural carrier here that does that extra.

“Well, everything has always gone along all right until a couple of weeks or so ago, the mail was rifled somewhere between its starting point and its destination. ’Course there is no way of telling right now just where this was done, but when the inspector comes we can put a check on it from office to office and see at just what point it was robbed. Most of the stuff has been checks, certified of course, and so it’s done by someone that knows how to cash them after they are taken.

“There’s the story in a nutshell. If you can make anything out of it, you’re a better man than I am, any one of you.”

Denton concluded his story and leaned back in his chair surveying the boys.

Garry was silent for a few moments, and then he made answer:

“I am afraid there is nothing that we can do. When the inspector comes we can do anything that he asks and guide him around through the country and that is about all. We are just Rangers and not postoffice detectives.”

“Well, there’s nothing I can do except sit tight and see that it doesn’t disappear while it’s in this office. I wouldn’t have that happen for the world. I’ve been postmaster here for nigh onto twenty year, and never was so much as a postage stamp short in all that time,” said Denton with an air of pride.

As they talked, Phil had been listening intently. He possessed an almost abnormal hearing, and had frequently heard things that warned of the approach of danger when his two chums could not hear a sound.

“Keep on talking, Garry,” he whispered to his chum, who happened to be sitting nearest him. “Talk loudly.”

Then stepping cautiously, so as to make no sound, he approached the window, which was up on account of the heat of the night, and with a quick snap of his hand, caused the roller shade to fly to the top.

All present got a glimpse of the face of a man standing there at the window, listening to the conversation. The chums made a dash for the window and were fumbling at the screen when the man fled.

“By gosh, that’s Pete Avalon, one of the hangers on at the restaurant kept by the big Frenchman where you fellows have eaten, and where, if I remember rightly, one of you had an unpleasant experience a while ago.”

“Now what was he there for if not to listen to the particular conversation that we were having?” asked Garry of the others. “I begin to make two and two into four on several of these questions. I think that the sending of the letters to the Everetts and the theft of the checks from the mail are done by the same people.”

“By gracious, there’s something I noticed when we were examining the letters and then it slipped my mind. There was one letter there that had no stamp on it, and I was going to ask how it had been delivered. I’ll bet a cookie that it was slipped into the mail bag by someone who was fooling around with the other mail. Now this Avalon has probably hot-footed it to the man back of all this to tell him that the law is already on the trail of the missing checks. They know that you can fool very little with Uncle Sam’s mail system. It’s one of the safest and best protected things in the world,” declared Phil.

“Well, we can do nothing more tonight, except to notify the constable to keep an eye on Avalon, and pick him up on suspicion for questioning when the inspector gets here. We might as well go and get some sleep now, and be fresh for a start in the morning,” said Garry.

“Not much use in having Avalon watched. Now that he knows he was seen, he is probably off to some hiding place where he will lie low till he can get across the border. Still we’d better be safe than sorry, and I’ll tell the authorities first thing in the morning,” said Denton.

The boys took their leave of Denton and left the general store, promising to look in next morning and buy some supplies, for they intended to camp at the old lean-to outside the town.

They stood for a few moments on the steps of the general store chatting with several of the villagers who made a sort of a club room of the store every evening. Then they walked down the street a way, when Garry stopped them for a consultation.

“I was just wondering if there was anything that we could do tonight,” he told his friends. “I thought for a minute that we might try and get on the trail of this Avalon and see where he went. If he is mixed up in this, he probably went directly to where the head of this mischief is and reported his discovery.”

“Don’t believe there is a chance in the world. He went off as though he were shot out of a gun, and by now he is probably safely hidden or making his way guardedly to his hiding place. If we had brought Sandy with us tonight he might have gotten on the trail. Next time we make any move, we’ll have him with us,” advised Dick.

“Guess you’re right, and the sensible thing to do is to go home to bed,” answered Garry. They sauntered up the street towards the section where Aunt Abbie lived, taking their time, for the night was fine—a night such as is known only in Maine—when the heat of the day is cooled off by the balsam laden breezes that blow through the forests.

“Say, I want some candy before I go to bed,” announced Garry.

“Gosh, and you holler at me because I want to eat things now and then,” laughed Dick.

“It’s mostly now with you Dick, and in my case it happens to be then. You boys walk on ahead and I’ll trot back to Denton’s and get a little. I won’t be more than five minutes and will catch up with you by the time you reach Aunt Abbie’s house,” and Garry was off at a trot for the store.

He procured his candy, and was walking back to join his comrades, when he became suddenly aware that he was being followed.

Garry could not see anyone, but he had that instinct that comes to anyone when he is being followed. It is the same feeling that one has when he realizes that there is someone else in a room with him when it was supposed to be empty.

He dodged behind a tree, and made a noise of tramping with his feet as though he were still moving on.

This ruse succeeded, and he saw a man dodging from tree to tree. Garry left his shelter and turned the corner into the street that led to Aunt Abbie’s house, and there stepped quickly into the shadow cast by a large elm tree. The electric light on the street was a wretched affair, casting only a few feeble rays on the street below.

As he waited, a figure turned the corner, and with a start he recognized Lafe Green.

Garry was undecided as to what course he would pursue. Should he call to his friends to come back and join him, and see if they could not bring Lafe back to justice, or should he see if he couldn’t shake him off and then turn pursuer himself and see where Lafe would go?

Green, however, decided matters for him. Evidently he had discerned what Garry was up to, for when he reached the tree behind which Garry was concealed, he darted around and came face to face with the boy.

Garry put on a bold front, although inwardly he was a little troubled over what might be the outcome of this meeting.

“Hello, Lafe,” said the boy. “How do you happen to be here?”

“Don’t know as it’s any of your particular business, but before you go trying any funny business. I’ll tell you that I am out on bail, so you have nothing on me at all.”

“I’ve been following you about, though, for the last few minutes, to get a chance to tell you something. Unless you fellows get out of here by tomorrow night, I promise you that you will be driven out in a way that will make you sorry you ever came here. Get that?”

CHAPTER IV
THE GUM HUNTER’S CLUE

With these words, Lafe turned and walked swiftly away, leaving Garry standing there dumbfounded for the moment. There was much food for thought in what Green had just said. In the first place, Garry had little idea that he would see Green at all, and could not understand how he had gotten bail for his freedom. Then came the recollection that the man had several friends around this particular section, and undoubtedly had quite a little money himself, made out of some of his illegal practices, such as the smuggling at which he had been caught only a comparatively short time ago.

The threat of harm did not worry Garry particularly. He and his chums had so often been in tangles that it did not faze him.

What did cause him the most concern was why Lafe should want them to leave town. Of course he would be vengeful about the part they played in his arrest, but that would hardly make him follow them and give a specific warning.

Lafe and LeBlanc had been mixed up in the smuggling plot, and to Garry it required no great stretch of the imagination to figure that they might again be working in cahoots.

There was no particular use in following him, since he would probably go to his home, and had possibly been seen by some of the people in the town.

Deciding that he could do nothing, Garry hastened homeward, and found that his friends had already arrived. They asked him what had kept him so long, and he exploded a bombshell under their feet when he told them of his meeting with Green.

“Now if we find out anything that connects the tramps with this outfit as I suggested a while ago, we’ll have a pretty pack of villains, won’t we?” asked Dick.

“I don’t think the tramps have anything to do with this, much as you’d like to have it so, Dick,” said Garry.

“There’s one thing we might do a bit later if we deem it advisable,” suggested Phil, “and that’s make a little tour of investigation of Green’s house as you did last time, Garry. We know of the secret entrance to the house, and that would simplify getting inside.”

“We’d have to have pretty good clues to make us do that again,” decided Garry. “That last time was a pretty risky piece of business, and luck was with us all the time. However, we shall see what later developments will bring about. Now I move we say goodnight and crawl off to bed.”

Ruth had been an interested listener all this time, and she implored the boys to let her help if they would.

“I’d just love to think that I helped in any way to round up the people that have been sending those horrid letters,” she said with bated breath.

The boys laughed, and assured her that if they could use her in any way to play detective they would surely call on her. They said nothing concerning the new developments in the postal situation, deeming it wiser to keep this matter a secret until the arrival of the inspector.

Next morning after breakfast they set about taking photographs of the letters. They did not think it highly necessary that this be done, but there was little they could do until the arrival of the man from the postoffice department, and besides, Dick was anxious to try out his skill as a photographer. He was fairly adept already, and was always trying to add to his experience.

“Now how are you going to treat that fingerprint, Garry?” asked Dick.

“I won’t promise that it will be altogether successful; all I know about doing it is something I read in a newspaper once. It seems that the way they photograph prints is to cover the spot with some specially prepared dark powder and that catches on the ridges of the print left by the finger. Now we haven’t any of that particular kind of powder, so we’ll have to invent something.”

“Let Uncle Dudley here come to bat with a bright suggestion,” said Phil. “Suppose we just take an ordinary lead pencil and scrape on the lead until we have sufficient powder for the purpose?”

“Fine. I believe that will do the trick,” responded Garry.

A pencil was quickly procured and Garry scraped a little heap of graphite powder while Dick prepared to take the pictures.

He procured a board and tacked the letters on it, and then set it against the house where the bright sunlight would strike it with full force.

“I’m going to give this a time exposure,” he told the boys. “This kind of work is generally done with artificial light, using an extra powerful bulb; but I think with this bright sunlight and a time exposure instead of a snapshot, we will be able to do a good job.”

Dick snapped the various letters, all except the one with the greasy imprint on it. This was held to the last, and when he was ready the board was laid flat while Garry sprinkled the powder on the print. Then the board was tilted so that all the surplus scrapings would slide off, leaving only those that adhered to the ridges. They were delighted when they found that they could almost make out the complete design of the print.

“I’m no judge of such matters, but I venture to say that there’s enough of a print there for any purposes of identification. Snap away,” said Garry.

Aunt Abbie and Ruth and her grandfather had been interested spectators during this operation, and as soon as the photographing of the letters was completed, Ruth asked if the boys would not take a snapshot of the entire group.

Dick said he would be glad to, and was arranging the members of the little party in a compact group, when the gate was opened and a man walked up the path. He was a lean, sallow looking man, and as he observed the three boys, he said:

“Am I right in supposing that one of you is Garry Boone?”

Garry stepped forward and said that was his name.

“My name is Simmons, and I’m from the postoffice department.”

Here was the expected inspector, and the boys crowded forward to shake hands with him. Garry acted as master of ceremonies, and introduced all the party to Simmons.

“We’re whiling away a few minutes taking pictures. Won’t you step in and we’ll have a complete group; a regular illustration for ‘The Mystery of the Threatening Letters,’” said Dick with a laugh.

Simmons appeared to hesitate for a moment, and then with a smile stepped in beside Aunt Abbie and in another minute the picture was snapped.

The boys neglected to mention the fact that they had taken pictures of the letters—not meaning to conceal anything—but they were eager to have Simmons go with them to the postoffice where they could begin work on the mystery.

Simmons went into the house to question Mr. Everett, and while he was talking, Dick removed the letters from the board and gave them to Ruth to carry to Simmons. They followed in a few moments, as soon as Dick had taken out the film, which had been exhausted, and substituted a new one for more snaps.

“I’ll take charge of these letters,” said Simmons. “I don’t know that you boys can be of a great deal of help. In fact I am of the opinion that the less you are seen in connection with the case, the better. Now I’m going to be perfectly frank with you. I don’t see why boys were sent to mix in this case at all. It would have been far better to have me here alone, where I could work with some of the necessary secrecy that the case demands. Which reminds me, also, that no one here is to tell anybody what my business is.”

This had been delivered in a rather snappy tone, and the boys were somewhat hurt at the attitude taken by the inspector.

“Now get us right on this matter, please, Mr. Simmons. You won’t find us making any silly suggestions to you how to do your work, and as for our being here, boys or not, we came simply on the orders of our superior. We are in the service of the State of Maine, and as such are bound to obey orders, whatever duty may be assigned to us. We were fortunate enough to give some slight assistance on the other matters here, and it is probably for that reason that the Chief Ranger had us come here.”

“Slight assistance indeed,” burst out Ruth. “Why, Mr. Simmons, they were the only ones that did anything on that smuggling business. All the treasury man had to do was bring handcuffs and arrest the men after the boys had found out who was in the ring, and everything that had to do with the fur and diamond smuggling.”

“Oh, I don’t mean that you may not prove to be of valuable assistance,” Simmons hastened to say. “I merely thought that I would get a good line on what is what, and it wouldn’t do for us to be seen in company too much, for that would tip our hand to the ones who are stealing the mailed checks.”

This seemed good logic to the boys, and so it was agreed that the only time they should meet would be after nightfall and at Aunt Abbie’s home.

Simmons decided to go alone to the postoffice, and the boys, seeing there was nothing they could do for the present, determined to get some supplies and go to their old lean-to and put it in shape for habitation during their stay in that section.

They procured their groceries and wandered down the leafy forest lane to their old camping ground. They found the lean-to in excellent condition. All that needed to be done was to fix up stones for their campfire and cut new boughs for a “mattress” on which to lay their blankets.

“What do you think of this man Simmons?” asked Dick, as they set out for a little clump of balsams to get boughs.

“Don’t know just what to say offhand,” answered Garry. “I can say, however, that he seems to be a little peeved at our being here to help him out. Of course I realize that it is a cheeky thing for a pack of boys to be sent to help a man that knows his business, or is supposed to know it, but orders are orders.”

“Well, maybe it is cheeky; but without being stuck on ourselves, I don’t think the smuggler band would have been run down without our help; or to put it more modestly, without the help of someone more familiar with the ways of the woods than a city man from Washington. However, we’ll do just what he tells us to, and let it go at that,” said Phil, as he swung his hatchet and knicked off a few boughs.

“That isn’t my idea at all,” interrupted Dick. “We will in all probability not be asked to give any help at all if my impression of this man is correct. Therefore I move that we do a little work on our own hook and see what we can do ourselves. If we find any clue that is really promising, we can turn it over to Simmons. If he accepts it, all well and good; we will know that he appreciates the help. If he doesn’t, we can go on quietly ourselves and do what we can. If we are fortunate enough to get the right clue that will lead to the real culprit, we will offer it to him again. Then if he bars us and pays no attention to it, the best thing to do will be to communicate with the Chief Ranger at Augusta and get his advice as to what to do. How does that strike you fellows?”

“Sounds good to me,” said Garry, “but I think you chaps are building a mountain out of a mole hill. If we find something that means anything, it will give the inspector a good impression of us, and we will then be asked to give all the help we can. However, only a little time will tell what is going to happen, and the first thing to do is to find some real evidence that will help the case. Until we do that we can’t claim to be much good, and I wouldn’t blame the man for not wanting us to be bothering around.”

“Well, then, let’s follow our usual custom and hold a council of war,” suggested Phil, as they started back to the lean-to with their arms full of the fragrant balsam boughs.

This suggestion was hailed with delight by the others, and at the lean-to they made haste to spread the boughs to that they would make comfortable bunks, and then sitting Hindu fashion on the ground between the two branch lean-tos, opened the council.

Garry was the appointed leader of the boys on all expeditions. This had held true ever since they had first become friends, for Garry was a year older than the others, and possessed of a level head. His was a forceful personality that made him a born leader. Yet there was never a complaint on the part of the others against Garry’s leadership, for he possessed the fine trait of never being “bossy.” An important step was always discussed before a decision was made, and when there was any doubt, a vote was taken after each man had had his say. Oftentimes they decided such matters as who should perform certain duties by drawing lots, using three twigs, the man getting the shortest being named for the job.

“All right, now,” said Garry. “Who has suggestion number one?”

“I believe that I have a hunch,” answered Phil. “Perhaps I am all wrong and am just trying to paint a villain blacker than he is; but I cannot get it out of my head that the halfbreed is mixed up in this some way. Perhaps he is not the brains of the organization, but Lafe Green might be. He is a cunning man, versed in all kinds of villainy, and with LeBlanc’s bravery, for bad as he is, you must give him credit for being fearless, they make a dangerous combination. Lafe Green can command a certain type of men by holding influence over them, and LeBlanc can lead certain kinds through making them fear him. Then they seem to be mixed up in any mess that we come in contact with. I move we start on the premise that they are the ones.”

“Good logic, there,” said Garry, “and there is only one way to find out whether or not your hunch is true. That is by following them all and either pinning something on them, or finding that they are guiltless.”

“Of all the crowd that we have run afoul of in the past few weeks,” said Phil, “who is still at large?”

“Why, let me see,” said Garry. “I can think of only three. There are the LeBlanc brothers and Lafe Green. Of course we don’t know how many confederates there are for this outfit, but there should not be many. Most of them were cleaned up at the time of the smuggling. Then, too, this kind of business is something that does not require a great deal of help. The threatening letters could be sent by one man, and the mail robbery would not need many. I am inclined to think there is inside help somewhere in that. Yes, there are only three that I can think of.”

“Wait a minute, now,” interrupted Dick. “You forget the tramps.”

“Maybe, but I doubt it. There is nothing to make us think they would have become acquainted with Green and his outfit, and besides they have seen us a couple of times and failed to recognize us. That was natural, because we are dressed differently and are tanned up so that our own families would hardly recognize us. If they had been part of the Green-LeBlanc outfit, they would have been told of us, and when they saw us would have made it known in some fashion. I think they are only in this section because it is close to the border, and they can keep out of sight. Perhaps they are laying plans for some sort of a crime around here. At any rate, it would be well to watch them and if possible effect their capture, for they are wanted in Portland for jumping their bail. Well, that being put aside for the moment, what is our first step?”

“I suggest first that we have a quiet talk with Denton, since we were not allowed to be in the conference between him and Simmons. Then I move that we take a little trip to Green’s house and try to get in by way of the secret passage as you did the other time, Garry,” said Phil.

“That sounds good to me. I think we could do it, for there was never anything said about our knowing it. If we had been discovered that time, they would either have blocked the passage up, or made some provision for keeping prying people out when they were holding a conference. Suppose we set tomorrow night for the trial and draw lots for the one to go?” offered Garry.

“All right except for one thing,” said Phil. “I suggest that the lots be drawn only between Dick and me. You had the thrill and the adventure last time, so that ought to let you out, Garry.”

“Suits me, but I don’t like to think of you chaps doing anything as dangerous as that might easily be, without being in on it.”

“Well, you did your duty the other time, and there will be no one to say that you are backing out of danger, for you aren’t. Phil and I are backing you out ourselves, so you can console yourself with that thought,” said Dick with a laugh.

The lots were drawn, and to his inward delight, Dick was the lucky man.

“That seems to be all that we can do for the present,” remarked Garry. “Suppose we rest a bit and have dinner, then let Dick take a few pictures and wander back to town and have a talk with Denton.”

This was the course agreed upon, and Phil wandered into the woods in search of squirrels for a squirrel pie.

He was back in an hour with four beauties, and Dick was set to skinning while Phil made the necessary dough for the pie crust.

All busied themselves in the task of preparing the dinner, and soon it was ready. They had barely sat down, when a voice startled them.

“M-m-m, that coffee smells powerful good,” said the voice, and the boys looked up to see a man standing near them.

“Well, if it isn’t our old friend, the gum hunter,” cried Garry.

And so it was. The gum hunter; meaning a man who made a part of his living by wandering through the woods collecting spruce gum to sell to the drug stores throughout the state, who had made their acquaintance on their previous visit and at that time had given them a tip that stared them on the quest of the smugglers that had ended so successfully.

“Sit in and have pot luck with us,” invited Dick.

“Don’t know but what I will; was getting pretty hungry, and since I was round near, thought I’d come here and fix myself some lunch. Often come here because I can build a campfire at the same place, and generally have a few old branches cut to use. Two or three times I’ve slept here to save bother of going all the way back to town, especially when I wanted an early start in the morning,” said the gum hunter.

They finished their dinner, and were about to clean up, when the gum hunter bade them wait.

“Callate I’ll have to furnish something towards this eatin’,” he told them, and carefully delving into his pack brought forth a flat package. “This is a home-made apple pie, and I hope ’tain’t squashed up much, though I bin carryin’ it since morning. That’ll cut four ways, and make good big pieces. ’Tain’t none of your miserable little bakery pies.”

“Gosh,” said Dick, “that’s just what I need to top off my dinner. Garry, pass the coffeepot.”

“Now what might you boys be doing back here? Setting out to catch more smugglers? Saw Lafe Green in town again last night, and wherever he is there’s bound to be contraband running across the border.”

The boys knew that the old man was reliable and trustworthy, and one who could be relied upon not only to keep a tight mouth about any confidence that was given him, but one who could give sound advice when occasion demanded it.