The Bungalow Boys in the Great Northwest

“Is this true?” demanded Lake, turning to the boys.

“I suppose so,” rejoined Tom doggedly. He felt a helpless sense that there was no use in denying it.

“Thet means jes’ so much more ammernition in Chillingworth’s hands,” mused Lake slowly. “Consarn him! Why kain’t he fall inter line like the other ranchers? I don’t hev no trouble with them. I pay fer what I git, cash daown on the nail, an’ no questions asked. By Juniper, it’s funny ter me the way Chillingworth acts.”

“We’ve got to get the whip hand of him sooner or later,” struck in Zeb Hunt. “Why not now?”

“How d’ye mean, Zeb?” asked the lanky Bully Banjo, turning quickly on him as a man who is ready to grasp at any suggestion.

“What I mean is jest this: We’ve got these two kids here and the Chink – though the Chink don’t count. But don’t yer see thet as long ez we hold ther kids, we kin dictate terms. Ef Chillingworth gets cantankerous – biff! – one of the kids is sniffed out.”

This amiable plan was proposed in a calm way that alarmed the boys far more than if vehemence had been used. They saw that logically to keep them prisoners was the only thing for the gang to do.

Nevertheless, he hung on Simon Lake’s next words. They were not long in coming.

“Zeb,” he said approvingly, “I allers said yer hed a long haid. Now, by Chowder, I knows it. Thet’s a right smart idee. Here, Death, and you, too, Squinty, take charge of these kids, feed ’em well, but I’ll hold you responsible fer ’em. Take ’em away. I’ll make up my mind later what we’ll do with ’em.”

Then, apparently noticing Tom’s start at the ominous name of one of the worthies who came forward at the word of command, the mighty Bully Banjo condescended to explain:

“Death’s right name is ‘Death on the Trail’ He’s a Chinook, and ef you cut up any didoes, ye’ll find he’s well named.”

The man named Death was a tall, dark-skinned fellow, clad in a buckskin coat and ragged trousers. His companion wore mackinacks and cowhide boots. Both had on ragged sombreros.

“Come on,” said Death, motioning to the boys.

Squinty said nothing, but his crossed eyes glinted malevolently as he produced two coils of rawhide rope.

Boiling with indignation and likewise considerably alarmed, the two boys had to submit to the indignity of being tied in the ropes till they resembled two packages bound securely round and round with twine. Like lifeless packages, too, they were presently picked up and helplessly borne toward the rear of the camp.

The cliff face towered for some distance above the base of the narrow valley at this point, and at its foot the boys, as they were bundled along, noticed a dark fissure. Tom judged it to be the mouth of a cave. He was right. And in a few minutes he learned also that it was to fulfill another purpose – that of a prison.

Death and Squinty set down their burdens at the entrance, and then rolled them inside just as if they had been bales of inanimate goods of some kind. The boys’ feelings were not soothed by the fact that fully a score of chattering, grinning Chinese watched the operation. These fellows were quartered back of the camp, and evidently formed a part of the consignment brought in on the schooner the night before.

The cave did not extend very far back in the rock face, and was narrow and low. But there was plenty of room in its narrow confines for two lads, bound as they were. Their two jailers shoved them as far in as possible and then without a word left them. Or so it seemed, but Tom’s eyes – about the only part of his body he could move – presently lit on a motionless figure sitting smoking on a rock near the cave entrance.

It was Death. A long rifle across his knees showed that he was acting as sentinel.

“Jack, old boy,” said Tom, at length, “how are you coming along?”

“As well as can be expected, as they say when a fellow’s been given up for dead and buried,” chuckled Jack.

His tone and words cheered Tom mightily. His brother, then, still retained his spirits, and hopeless as their position seemed that was something.

“Looks pretty bad, Tom,” said Jack presently. “I wish we could have got that medicine through to uncle.”

“So do I,” agreed Tom. “So far as this imprisonment is concerned, I imagine they will only keep us here till they get Chillingworth’s promise to let up on them.”

“But if he won’t give it?” demanded Jack. “He didn’t strike me as the kind of man to – ”

“Hark!” exclaimed Tom, interrupting him. “What’s that – music?”

Music it was. The strumming of a banjo, played with consummate skill.

Presently, too, a voice struck in. It was nasal and penetrating, offering a sharp contrast to the real skill of the banjo player:

“I sailed away in sixty-four,
In the Nancy brig from the Yankee shore;
We sailed and we sailed in sun and squall;
Fer traders’ gold where the South Seas fall;
Tip away – tip away – where the So-uth Seas fa-all!”

CHAPTER IX.

FAST IN THE TOILS

An hour or so later the lads were much astonished when Squinty entered the cave and, bending over them, rapidly loosened their bonds. So tightly had they been triced up, however, that it was some time before the stiffness was sufficiently out of their limbs to enable them to move with freedom. While they were “limbering up” their guardians allowed them to emerge from the cave and move and chafe their sore, aching limbs, at liberty. But, although it was pleasant to feel free once more – so far as their manacles went, that is – the boys did not by any means relish the surrounding crowd of Chinamen and rough-looking white men, the latter of whom indulged in some coarse jests at their expense.

At length, however, they were so far relieved from their cramped pains and “pins and needles” that they were able to stand upright and walk about without much difficulty. As soon as their guardians saw this they roughly ordered them to march in front of them toward the tent where they had had their first sight of Bully Banjo.

He was still sitting there as they were escorted up, and was deep in consultation with the tall Chinaman and the scrubby-haired man, whom we know as Zeb Hunt. Apparently the subjects of the consultation had been the boys, for as Death and Squinty marched them up Simon Lake looked up from a stick he had been industriously whittling, and turned to his companions with a quick “hush.”

“Waal,” said he, as the boys came to a halt, “you’ve bin doin’s some putty tall thinkin’, I kalkerlate.”

“Why,” rejoined Tom boldly, “I guess those cords were tied a little too tight for our thoughts to circulate very freely.”

He had determined not to let this ruffian see that he had caused them to fear him – an effect which he was evidently desirous of producing.

“Putty good!” chuckled Simon, seemingly pleased at Tom’s pleasantry. “You’re ez bright ez a new dollar, bye. Anybody kin see that. But thet ain’t what I wants ter talk ter yer about. Wot I wants to know is how you’ll regard a little proposition I’m goin’ ter make ter yer.”

Tom could not check his look of astonishment at this, while, as for Jack, his eyes seemed to start out of his head. Lake’s tone had become friendly, even confidential. But it did not fool either of the boys for a minute.

“What new bit of villainy is he going to spring?” wondered Tom. Aloud he said:

“What is your proposition?”

“Waal,” drawled Lake, “in the fust place, it’s a chance fer you byes ter make some easy money, then in the second, it’s a job that won’t require hardly any work on your parts.”

“Well, what is it?” demanded Tom bluntly.

“Jes’ this,” spoke Simon Lake. “It’s important fer me ter hev Chillingworth out uv ther way fer a day er two. Now I want yer to write him a note at my dictation, telling him ther fix yer in, an’ askin’ him ter come an’ get yer. You kin tell him thet we’ve left you prisoners right here or any other place whar it’ll take him some time to look yer up.”

“I hardly understand – ” began Tom.

“Then yer ain’t ez bright ez I thought yer,” snarled Lake. “See here, s’pose you do as I say – waal, it’ll take Chillingworth a little time ter find yer, won’t it, pervided you lay low and don’t go lookin’ fer him?”

“Of course, but – ”

“Waal, in the meantime,” went on Lake, as if the matter were already settled, “I’ll be putting through my little bit of business. It will take me near Chillingworth’s ranch, and I don’t want him ter be near while it’s going on – savvy?”