—
i.
© By studying woodland evidence “and
¥
4
Topas middle aged, with a hard face,
canoe.
-
‘Close reports that Blackmask, a high-
/ PWY HE more I saw of Joe in the
] days which followed, the more
would not continue to bear the name of
_. back,
married anyway.”
quick glance fell at once upon the
_ me to put November's skill to the little
~ .Indian—has passed along. Isn't that
"come far.
SYNOPSIS.
James Quaritch engages November Joe
as his guide. Joe and he go to Big Tree
portage to investigate the murder of a
trapper named Lyon.
Joe decides that the murderer followed
Lyon to his camp and shot aim from a
making clever deductions Joe discovers
the murderer, Highamson. Lumberman
wayvman, is robbing his men.
CHAPTER wv.
The Seven Lumberjacks.
I PAS,
I appreciated the man and the
more 1 became convinced of his
. remarkable gifts. It was not long aft-
er our return from St. Amiel before
doe succeeded in getting me a fair shot
rge red deer buck of Widde-
and it so happened that the
Eilling of this buck brought us news of
old Highamson, for we took the head
down to him to set up.
Joe and I walked over and found him
living with his daughter, Janey Lyon,
for the police had never been success-
31 in discovering the identity of the
\ enger of Big Tree portage. The two
ied very happy together, but I
1 $t acknowledge that I feared from
wont 1 saw that the beautiful Janey
Lyon much longer. I said as much to
November Joe as we were walking
“That's ==ture,” said he. “Old Man
Highamson told me that neither Bax-
Gurd.nor Miller don’t give her no
peace. Well, 1 guess a woman's better
It was drawing on toward evening
in to rain when we turned
® woods into the mile long trail
led to November's shack. His
‘ground and, following his eye, I saw
, impression of fresh tracks.
“What do they tell you?” I asked, for
it was aiways a’ matter of interest to
daily tests that came in my way.
“Try yourself,” said he.
‘“A man in mocecasins—probably an
right?’ 1 asked.
November Joe smiled grimly.
“Not just quite. The man isn't an
Indian; he's a white man, and he car-
les big news and has not come very
ar.”
~¥You’re sure?’ 1 said, stooping to ex-
amine the trail more closely. but With:
out result.
“Certain! The Indian moccasin has
no raised heel. These have. He’s not
He's traveling fast—see, he
springs from the ball of the foot, and
when a man finishes a journey on the
ron you may be sure he thinks he’s
got a good reason for getting to the
end of it. This trail leads nowhere
‘but to my shack, and we’ll sure find
our man there.”
Ten minutes later, when we came in
sight of November's home, we were
aware of a big man sitting on a log
emoking his pipe beside the door. He
1d there was more gray in his russet
beard than his age warranted. As soon
as we appeared he leaped up and came
across the open to meet us.
#Blackmask is at it again!” he cried.
YT saw a gleam of anticipation, if not
of pleasure, cross November's face. He
turned to me.
“This is Mr. Close, manager of the
River Star Pulp company’s Camp C,”
he said. “I'd like to make you known
to Mr. Quaritch, Mr. Close.” This
courtesy concluded, he added in his
deliberate tones, “What's Blackmask
done now?”
“He's at his old tricks! But this year
~ we'll lay him by the heels, or my
name's not Joshua Close.” The speak-
er looked up, and, seeing my puzzled
expression, addressed himself to me.
“Last year there-wtre. | five separate
robberies committed on the road bé-
tween Camp * snd he scttlement,” he
explained. ~Ilnch taue jt was just n
single lumbeuck who got held up.
and each time a man in a black mask
was the robber. November here was
away.”
“Up in Wyoming with a Philadel
phia lawyer after elk,” supplemented
the tall young woodsman.
“The police failed to make any ar-
rest, though once they were on the
ground within four hours of the hold-
3 —— : Copyright, it, 1913, by
P Hesketh Prichard
. I'd try to keep a job warm for him till
saw a
7
te gdy velvre yestéruay ue came 1
the office and told me his mother was
dead and he must have leave for the
funeral. He had a good big roll of
bills due, and 1 could see he meant to |
blow them, so I paid him and told him
he came back from the funeral. I
gave him ten days to get through with
his spree. Something I'd said annoyed
him, and after telling the cook his
opinion of me and saying he wouldn't
sleep another night in a camp where 1
was boss he legged out for the settle
ment.”
“By himself?”
“Yes, alone. Next morning, bright
and early, he was back again, and this
sas the yarn he slung me. He’d made
about eight miles when it came on
darkish, and he decided to camp just
beyond where we did the most of our
timber cut last year. He slept at once
and remembers nothing more until he
was started awake by a voice shouting
at him. He sat up blinking, but the
talk he heard scon fetched his eyes
open,
“ ‘Hands up and no fooling!’
“Of course he put up his hands.
He’d no choice, for he couldn’t see any
one. Then another man who was in
the bushes behind his back ordered
him to haul out his bundle of notes
and chuck them to the far side of the
fire or take the consequences. Dan
saw a revolver barrel gleam in the
bush. He curseil a bit. but the thieves
had the drop on him. so he just had to
out with hix wad of notes and heave
some meat. us | often do wnen 1 Rul
anywhere nigh the camp.”
As we made our way toward C. No:
vember found the tracks of a youn«
buck which had crossed the tote road
since the rain, and while I waited he
slipped away like a shadow into the
wild raspberry growth, returning twen-
ty minutes later with the buck upon
his shoulders.
On reaching Camp C November sold
his deer to the cook, and then we went
to the office. The men were all away
at work, but we found the manager. to
“Hands up and no fooling!”
whom November told his news. 1
noticed, however, he said nothing of
his idea that there had been but one
robber.
“Phat just spells total failure,” ré-
marked Close when he had finished.
November assented. “Guess we'll
have to wait till another chap is held
up,” said he.
“You think they'll try their hand at
it again?’
{ “Sure.
cess?”
“I'd be inclined to agree with you if
it wasn’t for the fact that the men
won't leave singly now. They're scared
to. A party of six started- ‘@fter-
Who'd stop after stch sue-
them over gs he was told. A birch log
in the fire flared up at the minute, and
as the aotes touched the ground he
chap in a black mask step out
and pick them up and then jump back
into the dark. Then the voice that
spoke first gave him the hint not tc
move for two hours or he’d be shot
like a dog. He sat out the two hours
by his watch without hearing a sound
and then came back to C.
“When the boys got all the facts
the whole camp was nigh as mad as
he was. They put up $50 reward
for any ome giving information that
will lead to catching the robbers, and
I added another hundred for the com-
pany. So now, Joe, if you can clap
your hand on the brutes you'll be do-
ing yourself a good turn and others
£00. ”
Close ended his narration, and looked
at November, who had listened
throughout in his habitual silence.
“Do the boys up at C know you've
come to me?’ he said.
“No, I thought
shouldn’t.”
November Peinaitied silent for a mo-
ment.
“You'd best aot away back, Mr.
Close,” he said at length. “I'll go
down to Perkins’ clearing, and have a
look ‘at the spot where the robbery
took place, and then I'll find some
excuse to take me to Camp C, when
1 can make my report to you.”
To this Close agreed, and the two
of us set out through the woods to the
site of Dan Michaels’ bivouac. The
ashes of a fire and a few boughs made
its scanty furnishings, and in neither
did November take much interest.
Forth and back he moved, apparently
it wiser they
drenching rain of the previous day
had almost obliterated, until, indeed,
after ten minutes, he gave it up.
clear every time.”
“The robbers,” I corrected.
«“There’s but one,” said he.
in the bushes.”
and parted the boughs of a spruce,
up,” went on Close. “But all that is
ancient history. It is what happened
to Dan Michaels last night that
brought me here at seven miles an
hour. Dan has been working for pret-
tv vich a ti nonths’ stretch. and
{
3
i
following lines of tracks which the
«Well, well,” said he, in his soft
cadenced voice, “he always did have
the luck.”
“Who?”
“The robber. Look at last year! Got
«Michaels mentioned two voices, and
thé man’in the mask stepped info sight
at the same moment as the fire glint
ed on the revolver of the other man
Without a word November led me
to the farther side of the dead fire
which I had previously seen him lex-
noon. They were hoping they'd have
the luck to meet the scoundrels and
bucking how they'd let daylight into
thenv if tl.e: did. But of course they
won't turn »p—they’d be shy of such
a big party -
“Maybe.” sai vovember. Wh
your permission, Mr. Close, me and
Quaritehil sleep bere tonight.”
“All right. Dut I can’t attend to you.
I'm behind with my accounts, and I
must even them up if it takes: all
night.” : :
»And there's one question I'd like to
have an answer to. It's just this: How
did the rol:ber know thant Dan Michaels
was worth holding up Or that be was
been told by seme one, Bhickmask hax
is, unless’—
But November would say no more
An idea had come into his mind, but
I could see he had entire trust in the
taciturn young woodsman.
Next morning November seemed in
no hurry to go, and shortly before the
midday meal a party of half a dozen
men rushed into the camp. They were
all shouting at once, and it was impos-
sible for a time to discover what the
turmoil was about. Leaning against
the wall of the bunkhouse, the silent
November surveyed the clamoring knot
of men with grim humor.
“I tell you again, we've been held up,
robbed, cleaned out, the whole six of
us!” yelled a short man with a sandy
Swede.
ing. November advanced.
that's
‘there!”
would choose t¢ fix a quarrel.
at the | facts.
to get off clear.”
“November's right,”
“ Jumberman called Thompson.
we started off together.
going off on the spree?. He must have
got a friend in Camp C all right. That
“Aye, unless?" repeated the monuger
Close could not draw it from bim: yet
“Phot is true!” cried’a fair haired
On this they all began shouting
again, waving their arms and explain-
“Look, boys,
an easy, comfortable log over
The Swede answered him with a
snarl, but, meetinz November's eyes,
thought better of it. Joe was the last
person upon Wwaom any one would
“I was suggesting, boys,” continued
November, “tht there's the log hardy,
and if yould ‘each choose a soft spot
and leave one to speak and the others
listen till he’s through with it we'd get
; Every minute wasted
glyes ‘them as robbed you the chance
said a huge
“Here's
what happened. We six got our time
yesterday morning, and after dinner
It were com-
Ta Wedding Chndrlie and fast
yong Lars they wakes up. and
danged if the lot of them hadn't heen
robbed same gs us.”
A unanimous groan verified the state-
ment.
“We was tearing mad.” went on the
spokesman. ‘Then out we goes to
search for the tracks of the thieves.”
A look of despair crossed Novem-
ber’s face. I knew lie was thinking of
the invaluable information the feet of
the six victims must have blotted out
forever. .
“You found them?” inquired Novem-
ber.
“We did. They was plain enough.”
replied the big lumberman. “One man
done it. He come up from the brook,
did his business and went back to the
water. He was a big, heavy chap
with large feet, and he wore tanned
cowhide bodts patched on the right
foot. There were seventeen nails in
the heel of the right boot and fifteen
in the other. How’s that for track-
ing?”
CHAPTER V.
The Guilty Man.
HERE was ho doubt about the
fact that November was sur-
He said nothing for a
fall minute, then he looked up
sharply.
“How many bottles of whisky had
you?” said he. :
“Nary one,” answered Thompson.
“There isn’t one nearer than Laval-
lotte, as you well know. ' We wasn’t
drunk, we was drugged. We must 'a’
been, though how it was done beats
me, for we had nothing but bread and
bacon and tea, and I made the tea my-
self.”
“Where's the kettle?”
“We left that and the frying pan
back at the hut, for we're going to
hunt the country for the thief. You'll
come along, Nov?”
“On my own condition, or I'll have
nothing to do with it.”
“What's it?”
“That nary a man of you goes back
to Tideson’s bridge but till I give you
leave.”
“But we want to catch the robber.”
“Very well. Go and try if you think
you can do it.”
An outburst of argument arose, but
soon one and another began to say:
“We'll leave it to you, Nov.” “Mind
you fetch my $190 back for me, Nov.”
“Leave Nov alone.” “Go on, Nov.”
November laughed. “I suppose you
all slept with your money on you?”
It appeared they all had, and Lars
and Chris, who possessed pocketbooks, |
and found them flung, empty, in a cor-
ner of the hut.
“Well, Mr. Quaritch and mel] be
getting along, boys. Tl let you know
if I've any luck.” Then suddenly No- |
vember turned to the big spokesman
and said. “By the way. Thompson. did
you fill that kettle at the brook before
you found you'd lost your cash?”
“No; I run right back.”
“That's lucky.” said November. ani
we walked away in a roar of shorted
‘questions to the cance placed &t oui
disposal by Close. By water we could
run down to Tidesou's bridge in ar
hour or two
“Do you think this is the wark of
the same man that beld up Dan Mi
chaels?”’
“(Guess so. Can't be sure. The
ground’s fine and soft, and we ought to
get the answer to a good many ques
tions down there.”
Thanks to the canoe and a short cut
known to November, we arrived at our
destination in admirable time.
went to the hut where the six had
slept. A few articles dropped from the
hastily made packs lay about, the fry-
ing pan beside the stove and the kettle
on its side by the door. November
moved found examining everything in
his deft, light way. Lastly, he picked
up the kettle and peered inside.
“What's in it?" sald IL.
“Nothing,” returned November.
“Well, Thompson told you he hadn't
filled it,” 1 reminded him.
He gave me a queer little smile.
“Just 80,” said he and strolled for fifty
yards or 80 up the tote road.
“I’ve been along looking at the foot-
marks of them six mossbacks,” he vol-
unteered. “Now we'll look around
”
The inspection of the tracks was nat-
urally a somewhat lengthy business.
November had studied the trail of the
six men to some purpose, for, though
he hardiy paused as he ranged the trod-
den ground, so swift were his eyes that
be named each of the men to me as
he pointed to their several tracks. As
we approached the bank he indicated
a distinct set of footsteps, which we
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Thirty Years
on seeing tiny look of hewilderment.
oi
vr adi ILAEES you say tnaer’
November pointed to a grove of birch
on the nearer bunk
then.
he
“Those trees.” he answered:
“First of all, skirting the path, we |
followed to the hut and back again to
the water.
“He’s the chap that did it,” said No-
vember. “That's pretty plain.”
“He is a heavier man than I am, and
he walks rather on his heels.”
November nodded, and began to fol-
low the trail, which went down into
the stream. He stood at the water's
edge examining some stones which
had been recently displaced, then wad-
ed down into it.
“Where was his boat?” I asked.
But November had by now reached
a large flat ¢ ne some feet out in the
amine. At a height of less tha five | ing along dark when we camped in the | Water, and this he was looking round
feet from the ground ore or two {wigs | old log hut of Tideson’s bridge. Seein’ | and over with great care. Then he
were broken. arA4 the bark a been | what had happened to Dan, we agreed | beckoned to me. The stone was a
rubbed near the trunk. J to keep a watch till dawn. First large, flat one, as I have said, and he
“He was. 1 mighty interefting man, | watch was Harry’s. In ar hour and a showed me some scratches upon its
him with the revolver.” { November’ half he were to wake me. He never farther surface. The scratches were
threw back his handsomg head and id. The sun were up before I woke, deep and irregular. 1 stared at them,
laughed. ‘*‘There was onfly one chap, and there was all the others sleeping but to me they conveyed nothing.
and he fixed the revolvey here in that, round me. I was wonderful surprised, “They don’t look like the mark of a
fork. It was a good biuff he played| but 1 fool the kettle and was going! boat.” 1 ventured.
on Dan, making him tbfink there was| down to fil her at the b It was “They aicit. But that chap made
two agin him! The rafin’s washed out| then that 1 noticed my ro fix | them all right.” he said.
most of the tracks, s¢ we’li go up to » i i : “But how or why?’
Camp C and try our } x there. But TC wo El November laughs. “¥ (uaft easwer
first I'd better shoot & deer, and the at na! that yet, ‘but Pll gall feu this, the
hovs "Nl think T anlv range to carry thom too robbery was done G=te=am § end 3
O'CIOCK jast mC" ~
. sl
a i -
ag er
p Rd A .
November Had Reached a Large Flat
8
tone.
added, “and he wasn't a 200 pound
man an’ heavier than you, but a little
thin chap, and he hadn’t a boat.”
“Then how did he get away—by
wading?”
“Maybe he waded.”
“Jf he did he must have left the
stream somewhere,” 1 exclaimed.
“Sure.”
“Then you'll be able to find his
tracks where he landed.”
“No need to.”
“Why?”
“Because I'm sure of my man.”
«lg it the same who held up Dan
Michaels?’
“Yes.”
With that I had to be satisfied.
door; one was the burly Thompson.
Nov,” he shouted. “We've got him.”
“Who've you got?’
‘ #The blackguard that robbed us.”
Is 17
beveled.
“Yes, the boss—no other!”
staring at Close.
gleens.”
(To be Continued)
FrTRY
aie
TISM EIDY YS
it
was late at night when we approached
Camp CO. We jumped ashore and went
silently straight to the office, where
the manager lived. A crowd stood
round, and two men were holding the
“Hello! You needn’t bother no more,
“Good!” sald November. “Who
“Y00k ab ‘Bim Thompson panged
open the office door and showed us
the manager, Close, sitting on a chair
by the fire, looking a good deal dis-
“Mr, Close?” exclaimed November.
“Got evidence?” inquired November,
“Piptop! No one seen him from dark
to dawn. And we got the boots. Found
sem in a biscuit tin on a shelf in the
ghanty just behind here where he
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Hannah More’s Strictness.
For real Sabbatarianism we must go
| back a little. There was Hannah
More, for instance, who refused to
dine out on the Sabbath and retired to
her own room on the very hint of
music on that day. And more. Ex-
pressions like “christening” a ship, the
“galvation” of a country or the “‘ascen-
gion” of a balloon were quite against
her idea of the fitness of the use of
words which had been exalted by their
religious associations.—London Chron-
icle.
Psaims Not Barred.
The other evening Miss Y., a maiden
lady of uncertain years, suspecting the
cook was entertaining her beau down-
stairs, called Martha and inquired
whether she did not hear some one
talking with her.
“Oh, no, ma’am!” cried the quick wit-
“It was only me singing
“Very good,” returned Miss Y. sig-
nificantly. “You may amuse yourself
with psalms, but let's have no hims.”
—Exchange.
Her Awful Sin.
A little girl of six once went in great
distress to her mother, saying that
she had committed a sin which could
never be forgiven and which was too
bad to be repeated. By dint of a little
coaxing she was induced to make a full
confession, which was poured forth in
this wise:
“1 felt so sorry for poor Satan and
wanted to give him a little comfort.
So I got a glass of cold water and
poured it down a little hole in the
kitchen floor.”
Equine Evolution.
Ages ago the horse was an animal no
larger than a fox terrier. Today the
species has gone so far ahead that the
elephantine horses seen on the Liver-
pool docks are the wonder of every-
body who has seen them, and one of
these horses is able to do as much pull-
ing as tHree ordinary horses which
not been bred in a similar man-
London Answers,
ner.—