"I hope we can get out of this," replied Brick. "I'm sick of this part of the country. I've been wondering what became of those two men."

"They're either dead, or snowed up so badly that they can't help themselves," declared Hamp. "It's our duty to go to their assistance as soon as we get a chance. That fellow, Raikes, put himself in danger to help us, you know."

It was shortly after midday when the three entered the tunnel in single file. Jerry took the lead, and the others followed close at his heels.

The snow was rather sticky and compact, and they, took advantage of this to enlarge the top and sides of the passage as they went along. Not a single cave-in was found. They easily made the two turns, and reached the scene of Hamp's disaster on the previous day.

Here the actual work began, for, though the storehouse was close ahead, the fallen tree effectually barred the way. The boys turned sharply to the left, and tunneled cautiously along for ten or twelve feet through the pitch blackness.

Then they struck the bank of the ravine, and followed it down for two yards.

"We must have passed under the trunk of the tree by this time," said Jerry. "Now comes a straight course for the storehouse. And it's got to be straight, for if we dig only a foot or two to right or left, we'll strike either the tree or the other side of the ravine."

"Go ahead," replied Hamp. "We'll make it, old fellow."

Already more than an hour had passed since they left the cabin. They advanced with redoubled caution, working two abreast, and patting the roof and sides of the tunnel to make them secure.

The long and trying ordeal came to an end at last, and glorious was the reward. The slab of bark, with which Jerry was digging, suddenly struck something hard. It proved to be a rock, and the boys cleared the space around it with frantic haste.

A moment later they fairly tumbled into the triangular cavity between the two great boulders. It was indeed the storehouse.

With greedy hands they tore away the sled and clutched at the precious supplies lying underneath. The fear of bringing an avalanche down on their heads was all that kept them from bursting into hearty cheers.

"We are saved," cried Hamp, as he got hold of the tin box of matches and struck a light.

"Stay right here," said Jerry. "I'll be back in a jiffy."

He snatched a handful of matches, and crawled into the tunnel, striking light after light as he went along. He was quickly out of sight, but in less than five minutes he returned with a flaming lantern.

The next step was to enlarge the space in front of the rocks, and when this was accomplished, the sled was dragged out of the cavity, and the supplies—snowshoes and all—were securely strapped upon it.

Then the return trip was begun. Jerry crawled ahead with the lantern, and Hamp and Brick came after him with the sled. Each angle was safely rounded, and it was a happy moment when the boys entered the cabin.

The first thing they did was to eat a hearty meal, and no banquet could have tasted better than the dry, uncooked food.

"What time is it?" asked Jerry.

"Just four o'clock," replied Brick, looking-at his watch.

"Then I'll tell you what we had better do," resumed Jerry. "If a thaw and rain should come—and it feels pretty close now—the cabin would almost certainly be flooded. Suppose we go back to the storehouse and dig another tunnel clear out to the lake. I'll bet anything the wind blew the ice clear of snow. Then, if we reach the open air, we can start away from here to-morrow morning and hunt another camp. First, we'll look up those prospectors."

This proposition suited Hamp and Brick. They were just as eager for a change as Jerry.

Without delay, the boys started back to the storehouse. They took with them a lighted lantern, and each was provided with a snowshoe for digging purposes.

The task proved a long and weary one, but they pluckily persevered. They chiseled a passage straight down the trough of the ravine, guided along the way by well-remembered landmarks.

Shortly after seven o'clock in the evening Jerry's snowshoe broke through the thin wall of snow, and the delighted boys tumbled out into the dusky night air. They found themselves several yards beyond the mouth of the ravine.

Far in front stretched the lake, its icy surface almost free of snow. Behind was the great drift, mounting higher and higher as it receded, until it rose many feet above the banks of the ravine. The tree that had fallen across the storehouse was utterly invisible, while of the upper tree only a few protruding limbs could be seen.

Having accomplished their purpose, and thus opened a way of retreat from the buried cabin, the boys entered the tunnel once more and crawled back. They were hungry after their toil, and immediately sat down to another hearty meal. The lamp shed a cheerful glow throughout the snug little inclosure, and the contented faces of the lads reflected its beams.

"This is what I call comfort," declared Jerry, as he put away the provisions.

"It's not bad," assented Brick. "I only wish—— Hullo! what's that? I heard a cry from, outside, fellows."

"So did I," exclaimed Hamp. "Listen!"

All were silent, and now the faint, far-away sound came again to their ears.

It seemed to be the voice of some one in distress.

Again it rang faintly on the night air.

"Those men!" exclaimed Jerry.

"I'll bet anything they are out on the lake looking for us. They can't see the tunnel in the dark."

"Mebbe they are half-starved and need help more than we do," suggested Hamp. "We've got to go out and see, fellows."

"That's right," cried Jerry. "Come on."

He snatched the lantern and dived into the tunnel, followed by his companions. They had not the slightest doubt that Raikes and Bogle were outside.

In their confidence and hurry, they committed the grave error of leaving their rifles behind. It never occurred to them that the strange cries might have another and totally different origin.

So, with empty hands, the lads crawled hastily forward on hands and knees down the long, straight passage that led to the open lake.

Suddenly a sharp, blood-curdling cry vibrated on the pent-in air, and that instant a long, tawny beast, with glaring eyeballs, took shape in the gloom, just beyond the lantern's flashing rays.



CHAPTER XIII.

THE LAST OF THE CATAMOUNT.

Before the boys, at a distance of barely twelve feet, crouched the huge catamount, screeching with fury and hunger.

Bitterly, in that awful moment, did they repent the folly of venturing forth unarmed.

Brick and Hamp grabbed each other, and stared wildly about as though they expected a way of escape to open before their eyes.

Jerry was two feet in front of his companions, and when he saw that the hungry beast was about to spring, he uttered a terrific yell, and nearly let the lantern drop from his nerveless fingers.

The cry was wrung from his lips by sheer fright, but it served a good and unexpected purpose. The catamount was disturbed by the shrill echoes of a human voice. He turned tail instantly, and bolted several yards down the tunnel. Then he wheeled around again, and squatted low. His fiery eyes glared at his intended victims, and his long tail smacked the snow. He wailed several times in a whining key.

The boys were too badly scared to realize or to follow up their advantage. For the moment they were without wits or presence of mind.

"Run!" yelled Jerry; "run for the cabin!"

Running was out of the question, but the boys did the next best thing.

Turning around, they fled up the passage on all fours, momentarily expecting to feel the claws of their enemy. Six arms and six legs revolved wildly. Jerry held grimly to the lantern, and it's friendly light showed the way.

But ere the lads were half the distance to the storehouse, the hungry beast was bounding after them, screeching hideously at every jump.

In sheer desperation Jerry wheeled around, and saw the ugly head almost within reach of his arms. Terror prompted him to try a last device. He lifted the lantern and let it drive with all his might.

It struck the catamount on the foreshoulders, bounced off and rolled in the snow. There was a sudden puff, an explosion and a dash of burning oil in all directions. Then a series of hisses, and utter darkness.

On went the boys, groping blindly from side to side. The angle at the storehouse bothered them, and they fell together in a confused heap. Somehow or other they got disentangled, and by pure luck Hamp and Jerry hit the tunnel and made good time toward the next curve.

Brick was not so fortunate. He went head first into the storehouse, and only discovered the mistake when his arms struck the rocky sides of the cavity.

There was no time to retreat, for he heard, close by, an angry snarl from the catamount. With almost the swiftness of a lightning-flash he remembered that there was a smaller cavity beyond the storehouse proper. Could he squeeze into it?

He did not stop to consider, but plunged forward at once. He found the hole, and in a trice his arms and head were through. The rest was a tight fit, but he kicked and scrambled, paying no heed to bruises or lacerations. At last his legs were free, and he dropped down between the rocks.

There was barely room enough for him to squat in an upright position, and even then his head scraped a sharp point of rock. But surely the catamount could squeeze after him.

He shouted hoarsely as he heard a sniffing, whining noise close by, followed by a blood-curdling screech. He believed that his companions had fled and left him to his fate. He had matches in his pocket, and almost unconsciously he drew one out and struck it.

It was well that he did so. The catamount had already gained the larger cavity beyond. His wicked head, with its flattened ears, was just gliding into the crevice that led to Brick's retreat. The lad uttered yell after yell, and the brute paused. A moment later he retreated to the outer mouth of the storehouse, for Brick had ignited his handkerchief, and tossed the flaming mass forward.

The blaze showed Brick a slab of loose rock lying at his feet. He snatched it up, and wedged it into the crevice with all his might. He tore off his coat, and jammed that in beside the rock.

The handkerchief was now nearly consumed, and when the last spark faded away, the catamount came on more determinedly than ever. His yowls of fury floated through the tunnel with dismal reverberations. He sniffed and snorted, and began to tear at the obstacles that blocked the crevice.

Brick shouted for help as he pulled the two remaining matches out of his pocket. His nerveless fingers let them drop, and a hasty search of the hard, stony ground proved futile.

Suddenly Brick felt a stinging sensation, and half of his shirt-sleeve was ripped off his left arm. The catamount had thrust a paw through the crevice.

Brick retreated as far as possible, wedging himself so tightly between the rocks that he could scarcely move a limb. Here he crouched and trembled. He knew that drops of warm blood were trickling down his arm, but he felt no pain. He wondered why the boys did not come to his rescue. Scarcely a foot away the catamount tore and scratched at the barricade, pausing every now and then to utter a fearful screech. The brute had doubtless been prowling about on the lake since the beginning of the storm, and was ravenous with the pangs of hunger.

Suddenly a rattling noise told Brick that the slab of rock was loose, and a moment later he heard it tumble in with a dull crash.

He gave himself up for lost.

Let us return, for a short time, to Hamp and Jerry.

Spurred on by mortal fear, they turned all the curves of the tunnel with a speed and accuracy that they could scarcely have excelled by the light of a lantern. Not until they tumbled breathlessly into the cabin, and scraped a match, did they discover Brick's absence. Then the tumult of sounds that rang out behind them told a plain tale.

"He's taken refuge in the storehouse," cried Jerry, "and the catamount is trying to get at him."

"That's just it," echoed Hamp. "Come on, quick, or we'll be too late."

In three minutes—an eternity to poor Brick—they were crawling rapidly back through the tunnel. Jerry had a rifle, and Hamp a double-barreled shotgun loaded with big shot. From one side of Jerry's belt swung the lantern, and in the other was thrust a bunch of pine boughs soaked in oil. As the boys advanced, they heard Brick's cries for help, mingled with the screeching of the catamount.

"So far he's safe," whispered Jerry. "I'll shoot first, and you be ready to follow."

"I'll give the brute both barrels, if they're needed," muttered Hamp.

They were now at the wall of the ravine, and a moment later they turned into the passage that led to the storehouse. The rocks were in sight, but no catamount. Evidently the creature was inside. A loud scratching and whining mingled with Brick's hoarse cries.

The boys crept nearer and nearer. They were trembling a little now, but they went pluckily on.

Suddenly a dull crash was heard, and Brick's voice rose instantly to a shrill pitch. The boys shouted in return, and Jerry quickly lighted his torch.

The racket brought the catamount out from the storehouse like a streak. The ugly beast glared at the boys and the torch. He was hungry for the former, but afraid of the latter. He realized that he was outmatched, and, turning his tail, he bounced into the passage that led to the lake, wailing like a spoiled child.

It all happened so quickly that Jerry lost the opportunity he wanted. He dashed to the angle, and pitched the torch far ahead. It flared up brightly, showing the beast in a crouching attitude on the edge of the gloom. Jerry took a quick aim, and fired.

The report rang out with stunning violence. Its echoes were followed by a dismal wail and a shower of snow clods from the roof of the tunnel, some of which extinguished the torch. When the smoke lifted, the catamount had disappeared, though it was doubtless not far away.

With a glad cry of welcome, Brick crawled out from the storehouse, coat in hand. His sleeveless arm was stained with blood, and the wound proved to consist of several severe scratches.

"You just came in time, fellows," he said. "The beast had knocked my barricade down, and in a few seconds more he would have had me. Do you think you hit him?"

"I don't believe it," growled Jerry. "Seems to me I can't shoot worth a cent any more. Still, I didn't have a fair shot. But we had better be getting back to the cabin instead of fooling away time here."

"You bet we had," assented Hamp. "It's the only safe place. That catamount will be after us again, or he ain't the kind of an Indian devil I take him for."

Brick was nervously anxious to start, and at once took the lead of his companions. They hurried around angle after angle, and when they were half-way through the final passage, they heard the creature's pattering strides behind them.

Brick and Hamp bolted into the cabin. Jerry paused on the threshold, and wheeled around. He was frightened to see the catamount within six feet of him. But he kept a cool head, and lifted his rifle, which he had meanwhile reloaded. There was no time to hesitate. He aimed, and pulled the trigger.

With the stunning report that followed, he rolled backward into the cabin and sprang to his feet. A frightful scream of blended rage and agony echoed through the tunnel, and the startled boys hastily pushed the sled against the door. Then they backed off, and waited. Jerry disengaged the still burning lantern from his belt, and placed it on the floor.

Another horrid scream, pitched in a strain of mortal agony. Then a bang and a crash. Away went the sled, and plump into the cabin tumbled the wounded and infuriated catamount.

It was well for the lads that Hamp retained his presence of mind. Like a flash the double barreled shotgun went to his shoulder. Twice he pulled the trigger.

Bang, bang! a rasping screech mingled with the stunning reports. Then all was still. When the curtain of powder smoke slowly lifted, the quaking boys saw their ferocious enemy quivering in his death throes on the blood-stained pine boughs.



CHAPTER XIV.

A HERD OF DEER.

Such a cheering arose as might have been heard far off in the forest. The praises and congratulations of his companions brought a ruddy flush to Hamp's cheeks.

"It wasn't anything to do," he protested, modestly. "When the creature bounced in, I just up and fired. Jerry gets the most credit."

"No, I don't, either," declared Jerry. "My rifleball took him in the shoulder, and your charges of buckshot went through the head. You saved our lives, Hamp, for the brute was crazy with pain, and would have torn us to pieces."

"That's so," assented Brick. "I thought it was all up with us when Hamp fired. Well, we're rid of a mighty ugly enemy. You fellows may be glad you weren't in my shoes when the beast had me penned up in the crevice back of the storehouse."

When the excitement of their recent adventures had passed off, the boys discovered that they were very sleepy. The night was well advanced, so they turned in without delay, permitting the lantern to burn dimly. They were not inclined to lie down in darkness with the dead catamount.

Morning seemed to come quickly. The boys were astir early, and had breakfast over by eight o'clock. Then they crept out to the mouth of the tunnel, and were disappointed to find that the weather was unfavorable for departure. A fine rain was falling from a sodden, gray sky, and the air was quite warm and moist.

"It feels as though a change was coming," said Jerry. "I believe it will clear off by evening and get cold. Then a crust will form on the snow over night, and we can start early to-morrow morning."

"I hate to spend another day in this cooped-up place," replied Brick, mournfully.

"It can't be helped," declared Hamp. "We don't want to travel in the rain. Keep your spirits up, old fellow. The time won't seem long."

"You're right it won't," assented Jerry. "We've got a lot to do. First of all, the catamount must be taken away from the cabin and skinned. Then we ought to make a search back in the woods for those men. I'm worried about them."

The others shared Jerry's anxiety, but it was agreed to postpone the expedition until afternoon.

The boys went back to the cabin, and tied a rope about the catamount's neck. After a great deal of trouble, they succeeded in dragging the body to the mouth of the tunnel.

Then they set to work with sharp knives and removed the skin in good condition. The carcass was hauled out on the ice, where it would ultimately be devoured by wolves.

After a cold dinner, the boys donned snowshoes and oilskin coats and sallied forth again. They traveled down the lake as far as the point where they had seen the men make a crossing. Then they entered the forest, and tramped backward and forward for several hours.

But not a trace could be found of the two prospectors, Raikes and Bogle, or their camp. The boys searched long and carefully, and varied their shouts by firing guns at frequent intervals. No reply came back. The stillness of death reigned in the forest.

"It's no use," declared Jerry. "We may as well give up and return. I don't suppose the men had more than a campfire, and the traces of that are buried under the snow."

"But what became of them?" asked Hamp.

"I don't know," replied Jerry. "I'm sure they're not dead, anyhow."

"I'll bet they packed up and left for a safer neighborhood as soon as they knew the storm was coming," said Brick. "They didn't leave since, for we would see their tracks on the snow."

"That's about it," assented Jerry. "No doubt they struck back toward the mountains. They didn't worry about us, for Raikes knew how snugly we were fixed."

This solution to the mystery was accepted, and the boys returned to their camp.

On the way back Jerry shot a brace of spruce partridges, and these made a savory supper, varied with two fresh pickerel which Hamp snared through a hole in the ice.

A blazing fire was made at the mouth of the tunnel, and here the meal was cooked and eaten.

Jerry's prediction as to the weather had come true. No rain was falling, and the air was much crisper and colder. By nine o'clock the stars were shining from a steel-blue sky.

The boys went to bed early, so as to be fresh for the morrow's journey. They rose at daybreak, hurried down a cold breakfast, and packed the sleds. This was a task that required some skill, for the ordinary luggage was augmented by the catamount's skin and the antlers of the buck.

Then, with feelings of mingled regret and pleasure, the boys looked their last on the snug little cabin where they had witnessed such stirring scenes, and crawled through the tortuous passages of the tunnel, dragging the sleds behind them. They strapped on their snowshoes, and started directly across the lake.

The walking was mostly over smooth ice, though here and there was a formidable snowdrift piled up by an eddying wind.

The distant line of forest gradually became more distinct, and an hour before noon the young travelers reached the eastern shore of Moosehead Lake. They were not more than two miles from the upper end, and after a brief consultation, they decided to push straight on for Chesumcook Lake, which was about twenty miles away.

"You will like the neighborhood," Jerry assured Brick. "Game is plenty, and there are lots of good camping-places. Chesumcook is an awful long lake, only it's narrow. The Penobscot River flows out of it."

Brick was willing to do anything that his companions proposed, so they plunged into the fragrant spruce woods, and pushed rapidly over the crusted snow.

At the end of two or three miles a range of pretty steep hills were encountered, and after dragging the sleds over one of the ridges, the boys were badly winded. They trudged on at a slower rate of speed, making wide detours to reach a gap whenever such a plan was feasible.

About midafternoon they found themselves traversing a narrow and heavily-timbered valley. Through the center brawled a noisy torrent that was too swift to freeze. On either side rose steep, pine-clad hills.

"There ought to be some small game hereabouts," said Jerry. "It's soon time to look up a camping-place for the night, and I'm hungry for a supper of fresh meat."

"So am I," muttered Brick. "I hate the smell of salt pork and bacon."

The boys pushed warily ahead through the dense bushes, looking to right and left. They kept their weapons ready for instant use.

Hamp was several yards in advance. Suddenly he stopped, and held up a warning hand. His face was ablaze with excitement as he turned to his companions.

"Look there!" he gasped. "How's that for luck? Don't make a sound."

The boys crept excitedly forward, and looked through the bushes which Hamp was holding apart with one hand. Then their eyes opened wide, and they shook with feverish ardor.

Over the top of the scrub, and less than sixty yards distant, rose the branching antlers of a huge buck. Close by was a second buck, and the reddish-gray flanks of several other deer were visible. As they moved about on the snow, the rasping crunch of their hoofs could be plainly heard.

"What a glorious sight," whispered Hamp. "It's a whole herd of deer, as sure as anything. They're not looking this way, but it's funny they haven't scented us. The wind is from the west, and blows straight down the ravine."

"Let me try a shot at that big fellow?" pleaded Brick, in a tremulous voice.

"Not for the world," whispered Jerry. "The range is too long, and we can't crawl any closer without being discovered. There must be a salt lick down there, and the deer are feeding. I've got a great scheme, fellows, and if we work it properly, we're sure to make a big haul of venison. You two go back a short distance, and climb the hill on the left, without making a bit of noise. Follow the ridge for more than a quarter of a mile, and then climb down to the valley again. I'll take Brick's watch, and wait right here with the sleds. I'll give you thirty-five minutes, and when time is up, I'll try to get a shot at one of the deer. The minute I fire, the whole herd will dash down the valley, and if you fellows are well posted on opposite sides, you ought to get one a piece without any trouble."

The boys heard the plan with enthusiasm, and at once prepared to start. Brick took out his watch, and gave it to Jerry.

"What gun do you want?" asked Hamp.

"I'll keep the shotgun," replied Jerry. "You fellows had better take both along. You understand the plan, do you? Well, don't make any mistake, and avoid noise. Keep up the center of the valley for a hundred feet before you start to climb the hill. Go ahead now. I'm beginning to count time."



CHAPTER XV.

A SUCCESSFUL BATTLE.

Hamp and Brick obeyed orders to the letter. Each carried a rifle, a shotgun and a hunting knife, and each had a pocketful of shells.

The thought of what lay before them lent feverish speed to the boys' weary feet. Ten minutes of stiff climbing brought them to the top of the hill. They had taken their snowshoes off, and at present they had no need of them. Owing to the high wind that prevailed during the storm, there was not even a sprinkling of snow on the ridge.

They hurried along the rocky pathway, taking good care, however, to tread on no dry twigs or branches. They could see nothing below them, owing to the dense foliage. To right and left lay an equally deep and gloomy ravine.

When the young hunters were a quarter of a mile beyond the spot where Jerry was waiting, as nearly as they could judge, the top of the hill suddenly began to drop downward in steep jumps. Then it sloped more easily, and finally terminated on the brink of a flat, egg-shaped basin, surrounded by hills.

It was a weird and dreary place, and the boys surveyed it for a moment with vague feeling of abhorrence. Then they hastily strapped on their snowshoes, and turned to the mouth of the valley, which was a few yards to their left. They posted themselves behind rocks, on opposite sides of the narrow pass. In between lay scrub bushes and the now frozen bed of the stream.

"Got both your guns loaded?" Hamp called across, in a loud whisper.

"Yes; I'm ready," Brick replied.

His rifle was in his arms, and the shotgun stood beside him.

"How long do you think we'll have to wait?" he added.

"Not long," answered Hamp. "The thirty-five minutes are surely up by this time. I'll bet Jerry is stalking the herd."

An interval of waiting dragged slowly by. The boys became fidgety and restless. They imagined that something had happened to their companion.

Bang! the thunderous roar of a shotgun suddenly reverberated down the ravine. The boys jumped with surprise, and nervously clutched their weapons. They gazed eagerly up the valley.

"Now look out," cried Hamp. "They'll be here in a minute. Keep cool, old fellow, and aim straight."

"I'll do my best," replied Brick. "You take the first one, and I'll pick out one of the rest."

"All right," Hamp whispered.

Just then a loud halloo was heard up the valley, and an instant later the crunching of hoofs and the threshing of bushes rose near by. Now the herd burst into sight, and it was an unexpected surprise to the boys to see eight fat deer leaping onward through the narrow pass.

Bang! went Hamp's rifle, and the leader of the herd, a huge buck, dropped dead in his tracks.

Brick also singled out a buck, but excitement unsteadied his hand, and he merely wounded the animal in the hind flank. As the rest of the herd scurried by, the lads fired several shots apiece, but without visible effect.

Then they sprang out from cover, well content with what they had accomplished.

The wounded buck had toppled over, but at sight of his enemies he staggered to his feet, and made a rush on three legs for Hamp, snorting savagely. The lad had just time to dodge behind the rock. Indeed, his escape from the antlers was very close.

The buck then turned and went for Brick, who skillfully and coolly ended its career with a charge of heavy shot.

"Hurrah! two dead," cried Hamp, as he left his place of shelter. "What a streak of luck!"

"Isn't it glorious?" answered Brick. "Jerry will hardly believe his eyes when he gets here. Say, look there," he added, in a loud and excited voice.

Hamp looked and uttered a yell of delight. Then both lads rushed toward the mouth of the valley, taking great strides over the snow.

What they saw was a fat doe struggling across the center of the swamp. At every step her hoofs broke through the crust, and she was making but feeble progress. The rest of the herd had wisely swung aside into the forest, and were long since out of sight.

Their snowshoes carried the lads swiftly forward, and they were quickly within close range of the animal. Two shots were fired, and the deer rolled over lifeless.

"We've bagged three!" exclaimed Hamp. "Just think of it!"

"It's a great haul," repied Brick; "but we're in pretty much the same fix as the man who had an elephant on his hands. How are we going to carry all this game?"

"Yes—how?" echoed Hamp.

The problem was left unsolved, for just then a hearty cheer rang on the air. The boys hurried back to the mouth of the valley, reaching there just as Jerry emerged from the bushes. His eyes opened wide with amazement when he saw the dead bucks. Then he spied the body of the doe, and simply gasped with open mouth.

"You—you fellows," he stammered. "Why, I can hardly believe it. I thought you might knock over one between you—but three! Great Jehosaphat!"

"Oh! we've got it down fine," laughed Brick. "But how did you make out?"

"I killed a good-sized doe," replied Jerry. "It was a long-range shot, and I'm rather proud of it. I couldn't get very close to the herd on account of the wind."

As he spoke a rasping cry floated toward the mouth of the valley. The startled boys looked out on the swamp, but could see nothing.

"Some animal is lurking in the scrub," exclaimed Hamp. "Attend to your guns, fellows."

"I hope it's not a catamount," said Brick.

"As likely as not it is," replied Jerry.

The question was not long in doubt. With a whining cry, a good-sized wildcat sprang from a clump of alder bushes just beyond the dead deer. It pounced upon the body, and began to rend it with teeth and claws.

"Did you ever see such impudence?" exclaimed Jerry, half angrily. "Come on; we'll give the little brute a settler."

The boys moved forward, and not until they reached the edge of the swamp did the wildcat become aware of their presence in the neighborhood. The creature was evidently half famished, and, having found a meal to its liking, it was determined to hold on to it. It stopped eating, and glared at the intruders with a ferocious snarl.

"Watch sharp, now," cautioned Jerry. "We'll go pretty close, so as not to run the chance of missing. I'll kill him with a rifle. If we all fire, the skin will be ruined, and it's well worth saving."

This was agreed to. The wildcat remained on the body of the deer until the boys were within four yards. Then it bounded forward six feet, and crouched for another spring.

Jerry took hasty aim, and pulled trigger. The creature was already in air when the shot rang out, and, more by luck than skill, the ball passed through its head. It landed on the snow with a convulsive gasp, and rolled over lifeless at Brick's feet.

"Pretty close quarters," remarked Jerry. "A miss is as good as a mile, though. Now we've got a skin that is worth keeping."

"This is the sort of hunting I used to read about in books," exclaimed Brick. "Four deer and a catamount. Just think of it. I'm afraid I'll wake up and find I've been dreaming."

The others laughed, and Hamp playfully pinched Brick's arm.

"We've got to stir ourselves now," said Jerry. "In about an hour and a half it will be dark. The mouth of the valley will make a good camping-place, and after we've brought down the sleds and my deer, we'll build a blazing fire. Then we'll skin the wildcat, and get the deer swung up to the branches of some of these trees. We won't do anything more to them until morning."

"Except cut some steaks off for supper," added Brick, in a hungry tone.

"Don't be worried," Jerry replied. "I'll give you a supper fit for a king to-night."

"But what in the world will we ever do with all this venison?" asked Hamp. "It will make an awful pile, even when it is cut up."

"It certainly will," admitted Jerry. "There's only one thing to do that I can see. We'll take what we can to Chesumcook to-morrow, and when we get a camp picked out, we'll come back for the rest with two empty sleds."

This sounded practical, and the matter was dropped. The boys hurried up the valley, and presently came to the deer which Jerry had shot. It was a fine, plump animal, and lay in the very center of the salt lick. Two minutes later they reached the spot where the successful hunt had been planned.

As they emerged from the bushes they made a startling and mysterious discovery. The sleds were gone.



CHAPTER XVI.

ON THE TRAIL.

The boys were dumfounded by their loss. The theft was a most daring one, and must have been committed within the past few minutes.

"Somebody will wish he had stayed honest," muttered Hamp, vengefully. "I'm glad we all have our guns."

"There was only one thief," declared Jerry. "Look! you can see the dim marks of his snowshoes. Here's where he turned the sleds around."

"And he's taking them back the way they came," added Brick. "In the same ruts, too. He must have hitched them together."

"We'll catch him," said Hamp. "He can't have much of a start. Come on, before it gets dark."

The boys started eagerly along the trail, unmindful of the wealth of venison they were leaving behind.

At the end of half a mile they were not in sight of the thief. Jerry bent down and scanned the sled marks.

"Something wrong here," he said. "The trail is no longer double."

The boys tramped up and down the valley, poking behind every rock and into every clump of bushes and trees. Gradually they became widely separated.

Suddenly a loud shout from Hamp drew his companions to him. His search had proved successful.

Behind a fringe of bushes, at the very base of the left-hand mountain, the faint ruts again appeared on the snow-crust.

"Now for a stern chase," said Jerry. "Have your guns ready, and don't make any noise. This way."

The boys started briskly up the mountain side. Before they had taken many steps they were agreeably surprised to find a broad and easy path that followed a zig-zag course toward the summit.

The boys traveled faster. They were almost at the top of the mountain now. Straight ahead the trail wound narrowly between two steep walls of rock and timber.

Crack! the angry spit of a rifle echoed among the rocks. The ball whistled close over the heads of the lads. They instantly dropped down among the bushes, fearing another shot.

"Let's all fire at once," whispered Hamp.

"No, hold on," cautioned Jerry. "The rascal is safe behind the rocks."

The next instant a deep, growling voice floated down the ravine.

"Keep back, you chaps. The first one as comes a step nearer will get a bullet through him."

The boys wisely made no reply. Under cover of the rocks and trees, they crawled a few yards down the path.

"We're in a hole," said Jerry. "The thief is up there with the sleds."

"What are we going to do about it?" asked Brick.

"Well, we've got to have our traps back," said Jerry, "that's certain. And there's only one way to do it. We must cut down the path as though we were retreating. Then we'll make a detour and lie in wait for the rascal and try to take him by surprise."

This plan offered much risk in spite of Jerry's confident words. But a better course was out of the question.

So the boys rose, and tramped down the winding path, purposely making as much noise as possible, to show that they were retreating. Half-way from the bottom of the valley the boys turned to the left. They followed the rugged mountain side for several hundred yards. Then they mounted straight to the summit and crossed in safety.

Suddenly Jerry uttered a low cry. He sprang forward and snatched a small, dark object that was lying in the snow.

"What is it?" exclaimed his companions.

"A tin dipper," was the reply. "It must have fallen off one of the sleds."

Hamp instantly struck a match, and the flame revealed plain sled-marks leading across the valley.

"We're outwitted again," groaned Brick. "This is awful luck."

"Yes; the rascal must have pulled out the minute he heard us go down the ravine," said Jerry. "By this time he has a big start."

The situation of the lads was now truly deplorable. Yet their very helplessness made it necessary for them to push on.

The trail of the sleds led to an easy pass in the opposite range of mountains. The boys trudged rapidly through this, and emerged in what seemed to be a broad, deep valley.

They pushed on for a quarter of a mile. Then they were stopped by a deep and rapid stream, which was frozen along the edge.

But one match was now left. Hamp cautiously lit it, and it was instantly seen that the thief had turned down the valley.

"We're still on the right track, anyhow," said Jerry. "We can't well miss the rascal, either. He'll stick to the stream until he finds a place to cross."

"He won't find one very soon," declared Hamp. "This is the Mallowgash Creek, if I'm not mistaken. It flows into Chesumcook, and it's broad and deep all the way. It's too swift to freeze."

"I don't see a speck of light ahead," said Brick, as he glanced down the valley. "The thief must be still traveling."

"And that's what we've got to do," replied Jerry. "Come on."

An hour slipped by, and then another. The boys could hardly drag their aching feet along. They yearned to drop down and sleep. But they knew that if they succumbed to the temptation, they would never wake again.

Now the strip of open suddenly faded into a gloomy pine forest that grew to the water's edge. The boys stumbled from side to side among the trees, and presently came out of the forest into open ground. Some distance ahead a ray of yellow light was visible.

"At last!" muttered Hamp. "We have run the rascal down."

"Yes; there's his campfire," said Brick. "I hope he's sound asleep."

"Not too fast, you fellows," whispered Jerry. "That light is too steady for a fire. But we'll investigate and make sure."

He led the boys softly forward. They were moving off from the stream at an angle now. The roar of the water grew fainter with every step. A few yards ahead was a copse of tall bushes, which concealed the yellow gleam.

The boys made a detour around them, and the next instant they were fairly blinded by a dazzling glare of light.

Their eyes quickly became accustomed to it, and then they made an unexpected and joyful discovery.

The light shone from a single window in the end of a long, low house that stood some fifty feet away. The intervening space contained several small sheds, and was strewn with felled trees, many of which had been denuded of bark and branches. From the house came gruff voices and an occasional peal of boisterous laughter.

"We've stumbled on a logging camp," exclaimed Jerry. "That thieving rascal must be inside."

"He may be one of them," suggested Hamp. "What are we going to do about it?"

"First of all, we'll take a peep," replied Jerry. "I don't believe the thief belongs here. If he does, we'll get square treatment, though. Loggers are mostly honest fellows, if they are a bit rough. Come on."



CHAPTER XVII.

FOUND AND LOST.

The boys went cautiously forward among the obstructing trees, and soon reached the end of the loggers' house. There was probably a hot fire inside, for the window was raised several inches to admit fresh air. The sill was not high from the ground, and the boys ventured to peep in.

They saw banks on two sides of the room. At the far end was a red-hot stove. At the end nearest the window was a long table. Around this sat half a score of burly, rough-looking men. All were smoking pipes but one.

The exception was a tall, muscular fellow of about forty. His face was covered with a stubbly red beard, and its expression was crafty and brutal. Before him were a plate of food and a mug of coffee. He was eating and drinking in the greedy fashion of a hungry pig.

The boys looked on for several minutes. They were too deeply interested to be prudent. But, fortunately, none of the loggers glanced toward the window.

All at once Hamp clutched Jerry's arm in a strong, excited grip.

"Look!" he whispered. "Over there are our sleds, against the wall."

"I see them," replied Jerry. "Hush! don't make any noise. I want to hear what they are talking about."

The boys put their heads closer together. They looked and listened. The conversation had been low and unintelligible. Now it suddenly rose to a higher pitch.

"Whar've you been all this time, Sparwick?" demanded a red-shirted logger at the head of the table, who seemed to be a leader among his companions. "I reckoned you wasn't in this part of the country."

"I reckoned he was in jail," cried the man next him, with a loud guffaw, and general laughter followed.

The red-bearded man, who was eating, lifted his face from the plate, and scowled angrily.

"I didn't come here ter be insulted, Thomson," he replied, addressing the first speaker. "I've been workin' with Bill Jordan's loggin' gang up at the head of Chesumcook. I'm goin' down ter Bangor now fur a spell."

"Yer seem ter hev kinder struck it rich," pursued Thomson. "Two sleds an' a lot of truck!"

"I borrowed 'em up at the camp," said Sparwick, carelessly. "I've got spruce gum packed under the blankets. I oughter realize on it purty handsome."

He glanced at the sleds; then tilted his chair back.

"Much obliged fur the grub," he added. "I reckon I'll take a sleep now, so's ter pull out at daybreak."

"Look here, Kyle Sparwick," said Thomson. "We happen ter need an extry hand badly. Can't you stay a day or two?"

Sparwick pulled at his short beard.

"I'm afeard not," he replied, slowly. "I've got pressin' business down at——"

Bang! the window came down with a crash as Jerry's fingers knocked the plug of wood from under it. The frightened boys jumped back. They heard excited shouts and cries inside.

"Come on," exclaimed Hamp. "We must face the music. I think we're sure of square treatment."

He led his companions around the angle of the house. Just as they reached the door it was flung open by a noisy crowd of loggers.

The boys were dragged inside, and clamored at by a dozen indignant voices. They tried vainly to explain. Finally Thomson restored a semblance of order, and quieted the mob.

"Now, what does this here mean?" he demanded. "You chaps were sneakin' an' spyin' outside that winder. Don't deny it."

"We didn't mean any harm," stoutly protested Jerry. "We can explain our actions. We came here after our sleds. There they are in the corner, and that's the man who stole them from us three hours ago."

He singled out Sparwick from the crowd, and pointed at him.

The detected thief was in a tight place, but he was not prepared to give up. He made a bold attempt at bluffing.

"Them sleds are mine," he cried. "I'll wring yer neck, you young liar."

He sprang forward, and seized Jerry by the collar. He lifted him clear off his feet, and swung him in air.

A chorus of indignant cries rang out. There was a rush from all sides.

"Drop the youngster," yelled Thomson; and when Sparwick refused to obey, he struck him forcibly on the arm.

Jerry dropped to the floor, and quickly regained his feet.

"I'm telling the truth," he cried, huskily. "Those are our sleds. I can describe every article on them."

The ruffian made another rush at the lad, but was jerked back. The loggers seemed to be against Sparwick to a man. Evidently they knew his reputation.

"Sit down thar," commanded Thomson, pointing to a chair. "An' don't yer make no sneak fur the door. We'll get to the bottom of this affair. Now, youngsters, spin your yarn."

The boys needed no second bidding. They spoke by turns, and gave a clear and convincing account of their unpleasant adventure. They did not forget to describe the thrilling slaughter of the deer. This part of the narrative caused the loggers to open their eyes and stare incredulously. They slapped their horny hands against their knees.

"That chap tells a heap what ain't true," said Sparwick, when Jerry had finished the concluding part of the tale. "I found the sleds, an' reckoned their owners had lost 'em. As fur me shootin' at the lads—why, that's the biggest lie of all. I never laid eyes on 'em until now."

But no one seemed to believe the rascal. Indeed, they heaped him with ugly names, and made not a few unpleasant threats. Thomson interfered in behalf of peace.

"Everybody knows that Kyle Sparwick can't keep his hands off other people's property," he said. "He's seen the inside of more'n one jail. Thar's where he oughter go this time, only I reckon no one's goin' ter take him down ter Bangor. Now, I've got a propersition ter make -pervided it suits these youngsters. If Kyle Sparwick will agree ter do a week's work here we won't prosecute him."

This suggestion was approved.

"What's yer answer, prisoner?" demanded Thomson.

"I reckon it's yes," muttered Sparwick.

He added something in an undertone as his evil eyes glanced at the boys.

"Then the thing's settled," said Thomson. "You can tuck yerself into that bunk yonder just as soon as you please. And now about that kill of deer. We ain't had any fresh meat fur quiet a spell, an' I reckon it'll taste good. Here's a propersition for you, youngsters. We'll bring the venison to camp, an' give you all you kin carry. The rest we'll keep fur our trouble. How's that?"

The boys gladly assented, and ten minutes later half-a-dozen of the loggers started for the distant spot. They took with them lanterns, and a long hand-sled. There was no time to lose, for wolves were likely to scent the meat.

Thomson stayed behind and made himself agreeable to the young visitors. He soon knew all about them, and when he heard they were going to Chesumcook Lake, he gave them some valuable information about the locality.

Then he instructed the cook to prepare a warm supper, of which the boys ate greedily.

It was now close to midnight, and they eagerly took possession of the cozy bunks that were assigned to them. The last thing they remembered, before losing consciousness, was Kyle Sparwick's sleeping figure in another bunk across the room.

Banging and rattling of dishes; clattering footsteps; angry voices and shouts—this was what roused the boys after what seemed to them but a few minutes' sleep.

They tumbled out of bed, and rubbed their eyes. At first they did not know what to make of the confusion. The misty light of dawn was struggling with the red glow from the cook's stove. The loggers were up, and clustered together at one side of the room. They were clamoring, and gesticulating, and uttering tremendous threats and oaths.

"Hello, youngsters!" cried Thomson. "Hev you heard the news? That consarned slippery cuss is gone. We might a-knowed better than to put any trust in Kyle Sparwick."

"How did he get away?" asked Jerry.

"Dunno. He must a-skipped off as soon as we wus all asleep—long about two o'clock. He made a dummy outen a blanket, and an old hat, an' stuck it in his bunk. There was a lamp burnin' dim on the table, too."

"I mind hearin' a noise," said a logger named Tommy Bobb; "but I was too sleepy to do more'n sing out, 'Who's thar.'"

"You must a-skeered him," declared Thomson, "an' that's why he didn't take nothing with him—not even his own gun. Thar it rests on the hook."

"He took something better than a gun," exclaimed Brick, who had meanwhile been examining his pocket. "He took my gold watch, and a purse with thirty dollars in it. I had some more money in a belt, but that's all right."

This declaration caused a renewal of the excitement. The loggers sympathized with Brick, and offered him rude consolation.

"How about you fellers?" asked Tommy Bobb of Hamp and Jerry.

They shook their heads and smiled. The contents of their pockets would have offered no temptation to the meanest sort of a thief.

"I don't mind the money," said Brick; "but I hate to lose the watch. I'm going after that sneaking rascal."

"No use, youngster," assured Thomson. "Sparwick has a big start. He took an old boat what we had here, an' went down the Mallowgash. He'd have clear water fur four miles. Then I reckon he'd strike deep inter the woods. If thar was a chance of gettin' him we'd make up a party. How's that, boys?"

"Dead right," exclaimed the loggers, in chorus.

Brick accepted this as final. He was anxious to start for the lake, however, and so were Hamp and Jerry.

But just when breakfast was over the party returned with the dead deer and the wildcat. This caused a delay. As soon as possible the deer were skinned and cut up, and the meat divided. The boys were given all they could carry.

Between eight and nine o'clock they were ready to start. They parted with the friendly loggers, and tramped briskly across the clearing.

"I say, youngsters," Thomson yelled after them, "if you should run acrost that sneakin' Sparwick, jest show a bold front, an' you'll have him. He's a coward at heart, an' hates a gun barrel worse than pisen."



CHAPTER XVIII.

HAMP'S PERIL.

Neither Brick nor his companions expected to overtake Kyle Sgarwick. They knew that what Thomson said was true. The thief was many hours ahead, and possessed an intricate knowledge of the wilderness.

"I'll have to let the watch go," said Brick, in a resigned tone. "I hated to lose it, because it was a present from my father."

"We may recover it at some pawnshop in Bangor, when we go back," replied Jerry.

This cheered Brick up a little, and the conversation turned on brighter topics. For mile after mile the boys tramped steadily down the Mallowgash. The air was bitterly cold, but not sufficient to freeze the dashing current and tumbling waves.

"We ought to be near Chesumcook," said Hamp, at length.

"We are," replied Jerry. "The logging camp is a good four miles behind us. Pretty soon we'll get a view of the lake."

"And what then?" asked Brick.

"Well, I guess the best plan will be to get across the Mallowgash, and push up this side of Chesumcook until we strike a good camping-place."

"That's just the thing," assented Hamp. "Come on. Let's walk faster."

Accordingly the boys quickened their pace. The roaring of the near-by stream drowned the slight crunching of the snowshoes and sleds.

At length they reached a bit of a clearing that faced the Mallowgash. Here they paused, startled and pleased by the strange sight that met their gaze.

In the center of the stream was a submerged tree, drifted there by some powerful flood. Only its upper limbs projected from the water. Caught in these was a partly sunken boat. Its bottom had evidently been impaled on one of the sharp, spiky branches. In the precarious and slanting front-end of the craft stood Kyle Sparwick.

The rascal was naked, and in one hand he held his clothes, rolled tightly into a pack. His back was toward the boys, and for half a minute they watched him in silence.

"Serves the rascal right," muttered Hamp. "He must have struck there hours ago. He couldn't get the boat loose, and now he's going to wade."

"I don't envy him," whispered Jerry. "He'll nearly freeze to death."

"I wish I had my watch and money," replied Brick; "but I don't see any way to get them."

Just then Sparwick stepped from the boat onto the submerged trunk of the tree. He shivered like a leaf, but without hesitation he lowered himself into the icy water. It came almost to his neck. Holding his clothes high overhead, he waded slowly toward the opposite shore.

"Stop, you thief!" shouted Brick, with all his might.

Sparwick nearly lost his balance. He recovered himself, and turned his head. His eyes snapped with fear and danger when he saw the boys. Jerry lifted his rifle, and leveled it across the stream.

"We want that stolen property," he yelled. "I've got the drop on you. Wade over to this shore as quick as you can."

Sparwick stood still. He tried to speak, but his teeth chattered too much. Then he did a bold and venturesome thing. He flung his clothes safely beyond the heavy fringe of bushes that skirted the opposite bank of the stream. The next instant he vanished before the eyes of the amazed boys. He had dived clear under water.

"Watch for him!" yelled Jerry.

"Pepper him when he comes up," cried Brick, excitedly.

For half a minute there was silence. The boys eagerly scanned the opposite shore. Then, thirty feet diagonally down stream, something white slipped out of the water, and dodged like a flash into the bushes.

"What beastly luck!" cried Jerry. "I never dreamed of his coming up away down there. He's out of reach now."

"And we can't get across," moaned Brick. "Good-by to the watch. I wish I had fired when I had the chance."

"Hold on!" suddenly cried Hamp. "We've got a show yet."

He ran swiftly down stream to a point some twenty feet below, and opposite to the place where Sparwick had left the water.

Jerry and Brick followed at a slower pace, wondering what was in the wind. They understood as soon as they caught up with Hamp. Here the Mallowgash abruptly widened. It was frozen hard from shore to shore with the exception of a six-foot channel in midstream. Through this the water poured with a swift, steady rush.

"Don't be a fool," expostulated Jerry. "You'll throw your life away."

"The watch ain't worth the risk," added Brick. "Let it go."

"Don't worry about me," cried Hamp. "That's an easy jump. Don't you fellows try to follow me, though."

Before his companions could prevent him, he dashed forward, rifle in hand. He sped swiftly over the first stretch of ice. With an agile leap, he cleared the gap of rushing water, and landed on firm ice beyond.

Suddenly Sparwick crashed through the fringe of bushes. He was attired only in a red flannel shirt. His face was blue with cold, and his beard was a frozen mass of icicles. He glared at the daring lad, and uttered a hoarse cry. In one hand he held a great clod of frozen snow. He drew it back and let fly.

The whole thing was so sudden that Hamp did not have time to lift or use his rifle. The heavy missile struck him forcibly on the breast. He reeled to one side and slipped on the smooth ice. With a piercing cry, he plunged into the swift water.

Sparwick instantly vanished behind the bushes. Well for him that he did so. Had he lingered but a moment Brick or Jerry would have shot him in their wrath.

Finding the ruffian out of reach, the two boys turned their eyes anxiously on the open channel.

Hamp's head and shoulders bobbed to the surface half-a-dozen feet below where he had fallen in. He still retained his hold on the rifle. He made a gallant struggle for life, and succeeded in reaching the rim of ice nearest his companions. He threw the rifle forward, and clung tight.

"Help! help!" he cried. "I'm nearly played out, boys. I'll have to let go."

But Brick and Jerry were prompt to the rescue. With great strides they crossed the ice, and soon had Hamp safely beside them. They dragged him over to the bank, and dropped him in a clump of bushes. He was blue and speechless with cold.

"Bring the sleds here, Brick," cried Jerry. "Quick, while I make a fire. Hamp must have dry clothes and blankets right away."

Brick dashed off at full speed. When he returned, a moment later, Jerry had heaped up a pile of brush and twigs. Hamp was taking off his dripping clothes as fast as his numbed fingers would allow.

Just as Jerry scraped a match, a crunching noise was heard back from the stream. It grew nearer and louder. The boys stopped their occupations, and glanced in the direction of the sound. A moment later the bushes parted and two men emerged.

The foremost was an old acquaintance, Mr. Silas Raikes. His companion was a sinister-looking fellow, with a heavy black beard and mustache. Both were armed with rifles, and a well-packed hand-sled trailed behind them.

"Hullo!" exclaimed Raikes, in a tone of the utmost surprise. "We meet again, my young friends. This is an unexpected pleasure. Not taking a bath on such a morning as this, I hope."

"Hamp was compelled to take one," replied Jerry.

He briefly related the stirring events of the past twenty-four hours, beginning with the start from the far side of Moosehead Lake. Meanwhile the fire blazed up merrily, and Hamp got himself into dry clothes and blankets.

"You've had a tough time of it, boys!" commented Silas Raikes. "I'm glad to find that you weathered the storm all right. And so you're bound in our direction? I had no idea you intended traveling to Chesumcook."

"That's what we told you the night you were at our camp," replied Jerry.

"Then I forgot all about it," admitted Raikes. "You see, I've got a bad memory."

"Are you still prospecting?" asked Brick.

"Not in this weather," was the reply. "We're taking a sort of a roundabout way home."

"We feared you were lost in the storm," said Jerry. "After it was over we hunted the neighborhood for your camp."

"And didn't find it, eh?" laughed Raikes. "No wonder, lads. We had a snug nest among the rocks, two miles or more from the lake. But pardon me. I quite forgot to introduce my friend, of whom I spoke to you before. This is Joe Bogle, from Augusta, Maine. We've been partners for many a year."

The black-bearded man had been scrutinizing the lads—and Brick in particular—with keen attention. Now he stepped forward, and nodded in response to the introduction.

"I'm glad to meet any friends of my partner," he said, in a low, oily voice.

A surprised and puzzled look appeared on Brick's face. He stared intently at Mr. Joe Bogle.

"Haven't I met you before?" he exclaimed.



CHAPTER XIX.

BOGLE SHOWS HIS HAND.

A brief pause followed Brick's impulsive question. The boys looked on with interest. Raikes gave an almost imperceptible start. Then he drew a pipe from his pocket, and began to clean the bowl industriously with a twig of wood.

Mr. Joe Bogle was the most unconcerned one of the party. A smile lightened his sinister features, and he came quite close to Brick.

"We may have met before, youngster," he drawled, in a tone that was the exact opposite of the one he had used before. "It's quite likely, though I can't say that I remember your face."

"I guess I'm mistaken," admitted Brick. "It was your voice that seemed familiar when you first spoke. I don't notice it now."

"I've often been tricked that way," said Raikes, laughing. "Lots of people have voices alike. Still, you may have run across Bogle some time or another. How long have you been in Maine?"

"I never was inside the State in my life, until two or three weeks ago," replied Brick.

"Then I reckon you must be mistaken," emphatically declared Raikes. "Bogle and I have been in the woods since November."

"And I haven't been outside of Maine for nearly fifteen years," added Bogle. "It ain't very likely we met before that."

He laughed in a rasping way. Brick laughed, too. Now that the stranger's voice had lost its familiar chord, he was satisfied of his mistake, and ceased to think about the matter.

Raikes quickly turned the conversation into a different channel.

"It seems to me," he said, "that we ought to overhaul that rascally thief, and restore the stolen property to these lads. How does it strike you, Bogle?"

He exchanged a lightning-like glance with his companion. The latter nodded assent.

"That's right," he replied. "I'm with you. It won't take us much out of our way."

"No," Raikes continued, "we'll catch him in a jiffy. He can't be far off."

"It would have taken him almost this long to put on his clothes," said Jerry. "He has snowshoes, though."

"So have we," replied Raikes. "If you lads will come along with us, we'll try to recover the money and watch."

"Hamp ain't fit to travel," answered Jerry. "He's got to sit over this fire for a couple of hours. And Brick and I can't leave him alone. Besides, how are you going to cross the Mallowgash? That leap is too dangerous."

"Just below the bend, yonder, is a clean freeze-over," replied Raikes. "We were in the act of crossing when we heard you fellows sing out. But one of you ought to go with us to identify the property and bring it back. You see, the rascal may head just in the direction we want to go, and; under them circumstances, we wouldn't care about tramping all the way back."

"I'll go with you," eagerly exclaimed Brick. "I'd like to be on hand when you corner Sparwick, and make him fork over."

A sudden gleam passed over Bogle's face. Raikes twisted his mustache and looked across the stream.

"It don't matter which one of you goes," he replied, carelessly. "Come on, youngster, if the rest are willing."

Jerry and Hamp had no objections to offer. They knew that Brick was eager for the chase, and they saw no reason why he should not accept the friendly offer of the two genial strangers. It was his money and his watch that were at stake.

Brick filled his belt with fresh cartridges, and shouldered his rifle. Then he started briskly down stream with Raikes and Bogle.

As soon as they rounded the bend, the party found the channel frozen tightly from shore to shore. They crossed over and went up the other side. They soon found Sparwick's trail, leading off from the Mallowgash at a right angle. After apprising Jerry and Hamp of this fact by a shrill whistle—the signal agreed upon—they took up the chase.

For a mile they pushed on through heavy forest and rocks. The men went at a rapid pace, and Brick easily kept up with them.

"We'll overhaul the rascal before long," assured Raikes. "You'll get back to your companions in time for dinner."

But at the end of another mile Sparwick was still invisible; nor did the scant-marks of his snowshoes appear to be particularly fresh. He evidently suspected pursuit, and was moving at his top speed.

Presently the trail turned due north. During the next half hour the pursuers caught an occasional glimpse of Chesumcook Lake from high ground. They pushed steadily on, until Brick began to feel a little weary. He admitted as much to his companions.

"Don't give up yet, my lad," said Raikes. "Now that you've come this far, you may as well finish. The rascal can't keep ahead of us long."

"And when we get your watch and money, we'll take you part of the way back," added Bogle.

"If you'll do that, it's all right," replied Brick. "It's a long distance to where we left the boys, and I might get lost by myself. It must be dinner time now."

"I reckon it is," admitted Raikes.

He looked up at the sun, which was dimly visible through a bank of fleecy clouds.

"Shall we have a bite to eat?" asked Bogle, glancing at the sled.

Raikes shook his head.

"Better not stop now," he replied. "Every minute is precious."

They pushed on rapidly, spurring Brick to greater efforts by repeated words of cheer. Now and then they bent over to examine Sparwick's trail, or whispered together in low tones.

An hour after midday, a strip of open ground was reached. It had probably been devastated at one time by a forest fire.

Sparwick's trail led across the clearing to within a dozen feet of a brook. Then it turned abruptly and entered the thick forest, in the direction of the lake.

Raikes stooped down, and intently examined the imprint of the snowshoes.

"What do you think of it?" he asked of Bogle.

"Not very fresh, eh?" replied Raikes.

"Exactly. The scamp is traveling at a two-forty gait. It will be wasting time to keep this up any longer."

"And the game's not worth the candle, anyhow," added Raikes.

He looked meaningly at his companion. They moved away from Brick to a ledge of rocks that extended clear to the brook. For several minutes they conversed in low tones. They pointed first to the stream, and then to the rocks on which they stood. The latter, owing to their exposed position, had been blown full of snow. Finally the men returned to Brick.

"We've decided to give up the pursuit," said Raikes. "Instead of gaining, we've been falling behind."

"Sorry we brought you on such a wild-goose chase," added Bogle, "but it can't be helped."

"I don't care much," replied Brick. "Only it's a long ways back. Are you going with me?"

"I reckon not," said Bogle. "In fact, you had better go along with us. You're pretty tired, lad, so I'll carry your rifle for you."

By a quick movement, he snatched the weapon.

The act and the words startled Brick. He suddenly realized that his companion had some evil design against him.

"Give me my rifle," he said. "I can find the way back alone. The boys are likely to meet me."

Bogle scowled savagely.

"Don't get obstinate, youngster," he said, in a sharp tone. "I told you before that you were going with us. Now march! we have no time to lose."

Again Brick recognized the familiar chord in the man's voice. Like a flash, he remembered where he had heard it. The discovery so angered him that he forgot every instinct of prudence.

"I know you now," he cried. "You can't fool me with your beard and mustache. You are the missionary who was on the train that night. You followed me and tried to steal my pocketbook."

The ferocious expression that instantly appeared on Bogle's face told Brick he had done a foolish thing. His dread of consequences led him to commit another blunder. He turned and dashed at full speed across the clearing.

A hoarse command to stop fell on his ears. He disregarded it and ran faster. He heard crunching footsteps behind him. Then one of his snowshoes caught in a tuft of bushes, and he sprawled headlong. As he rose to his feet, a muscular hand clutched his collar. He wheeled around to meet Bogle's grim and angry face.

"I've got you," growled the ruffian. "Don't try another trick of this sort, youngster, or you'll be sorry."

"Let me go!" cried Brick. "Let me go, I say. It's you that will be sorry!"

Fear and terror lent him strength. He struggled desperately to break loose. In the short scuffle that followed he was roughly handled. A blow on the nose from Bogle's fist partially stunned him and drew blood. He realized the folly of further efforts, and meekly submitted to be dragged back.

"I told you not to be rough," remonstrated Raikes. "The lad's nose is bleeding, and there's blood on the snow. How are you going to hide it?"

"It won't matter," replied Bogle. "It's his own fault. He had no business to struggle. I hit him accidentally. Use your handkerchief, youngster."

Brick did so, and in a short time the bleeding stopped. He quietly let Bogle search him, and the belt of money that he wore under his clothes, was soon brought to light. The men opened it greedily, and counted over the gold coins and banknotes.

"You're welcome to that, since I can't help myself," said Brick, in a sullen tone. "And now I suppose you'll let me go."

Raikes looked at his companion, and shrugged his shoulders.

"No; we won't let you go," replied Bogle, savagely. "The cash will do very nicely, but just at present we want you more than anything else. And here's a word of advice, youngster. You'll do well to heed it, for I'm not given to idle speech. Keep your mouth shut, and ask no questions. Obey orders, and you shan't be harmed. If you try to escape, I'll put a bullet through you. How's that, Silas?"

"Couldn't be any plainer," assented Raikes. "I hope you understand, lad."

Brick did not reply. He was pretty badly scared by Bogle's threats, and had no intention of disobeying. The whole affair was a profound mystery. He could not imagine what his captors wanted with him, now that they had all his money.

"I guess they intend to keep me prisoner for a while," he reflected, "so they will have a better chance to escape."

Then a darker thought entered his mind, and brought a gleam of terrible anxiety to his face. Supposing they should make an attempt upon his life?



CHAPTER XX.

BRICK'S DEFENCE.

First of all, Raikes followed Sparwick's trail to where it entered the woods. He plunged a few yards into the heavy undergrowth and timber. Then he retraced the entire distance backward, leaving a plain imprint with every step. Brick's heart sank. He thought he knew what this proceeding meant.

The two men next removed their snowshoes, and made Brick do likewise. They put the three pairs under the luggage on the sled, and drew the straps as tight as possible. Raikes hoisted the heavy sled to his right shoulder. Then the start was made, in the following order: Raikes first, Brick in the middle, and Bogle bringing up the rear, whence he could watch every movement of the prisoner. The three followed the ledge of rocks to its very end, and stepped off into the swift, open channel of the brook. The water was shallow, but fearfully cold. It quickly penetrated Brick's boots and made him shiver. Raikes and Bogle did not seem to mind it. The latter turned and looked back.

"Well done," he muttered. "That would almost throw a bloodhound off the trail."

"There's better luck in store for us," replied Raikes. "We'll have snow before morning."

"I believe it," assented Bogle, glancing up at the murky sky. "Go ahead. Don't you plant your feet anywhere but in the water, youngster."

Raikes led the way down the center of the brook, between deep and gloomy woods. The chilling journey lasted for more than a mile. The water sometimes took the waders almost to their knees. Brick was heartily glad when the open lake came in sight. It was frozen hard against the shore.

The party pushed rapidly up the lake, evidently with a fixed destination in view. Here and there were great drifts of snow, but, for the most part, the ice was bare. The travelers left no trace behind them. Raikes bore the heavy sled as though it was a trifling burden.

About midafternoon, when the head of the lake was several miles distant, a lively snowgust came on. Raikes and Bogle held a short conversation.

Then they headed due east, across the lake. Before they tramped a mile the snow had turned to a steady fall of fine flakes. It quickly covered the ice to the depth of an inch. Raikes lowered the sled and trailed it behind him.

It was quite dark when the eastern shore of Chesumcook was reached—so dark that the forest was only a blurred blot against the night.

The snow was several inches deep, and still falling in a white, stealthy cloud. There was scarcely enough wind to stir the tops of the pine trees.

Brick had hoped that his captors would pitch camp here. He was hungry and tired, and his frosted feet ached with every step.

However, he was destined to disappointment. No doubt Raikes and Bogle were equally disposed to rest, but, nevertheless, they lit a lantern and plunged into the forest.

As before, Raikes took the lead, while Bogle followed on Brick's heels. All wore their snowshoes again, and they traveled at a fair rate of speed.

Brick speedily lost all track of his bearings. For nearly two hours he followed the misty gleam of Raikes' lantern—over hills, across open meadows, and through narrow ravines. The snow grew deeper and deeper, and at times it fairly blinded him. Then, without knowing how or when it began, he found himself threading the mazy windings of a vast, frozen marsh.

The path was a tortuous one. It led over rocks, and fallen trees, and patches of tangled grass. At times it slipped under canopies of interlaced bushes. Here it was necessary to stoop very low.

A whole hour was spent in traversing this gloomy and boundless place. Brick began to believe that it had no end.

"A little faster, youngster," urged Bogle, in a gruff voice. "We don't want to spend the night out of doors. A lovely hiding-place, this, ain't it? An army could never find us here. If we should turn you loose now, you would wander about till you died of starvation. You could never get out."

Brick shuddered. He tried hard to quicken his pace. Raikes was moving rapidly, and in a manner that betokened familiarity with the ground.

"It's not far now," he called back to Brick. "You'll soon have supper and sleep."

Five minutes later the tangle of the undergrowth and young timber ended abruptly on the edge of a small clearing. Here, faintly outlined against the driving snow, stood a low, flat-roofed log cabin.

Raikes grunted with satisfaction as he opened the door. Bogle pushed Brick inside, where the scene was in strong contrast to the outer storm.

The floor was planked. A pile of wood was stacked by the open fireplace. The furniture consisted of two benches and a table. One end of the room was spread with pine boughs, on top of which were blankets.

A blazing fire was quickly built. The sled yielded provisions in plenty, and from a small cupboard Raikes took dishes and cooking utensils.

A little later the three sat down to a tempting supper. The fact that he was a prisoner did not interfere with Brick's appetite, and he ate heartily.

When the meal was over, the men prepared for bed. They made Brick lie down between them, and his left wrist was fastened to Bogle's right by a pair of slender, steel bracelets.

Brick was too sleepy to mind this indignity. From the moment his head touched the pine boughs, he knew nothing until he woke, to find the light of day shining through the cabin's one window.

The fire was roaring, and the table was set. Raikes was frying bacon and potatoes, and Bogle sat near by, smoking a pipe.

"Get up, youngster," he called out, when he saw that Brick was awake. "How do you feel this morning?"

"Pretty good," answered Brick.

He was puzzled to account for the ruffian's affable manner.

Raikes now announced that breakfast was ready. He pulled a bench to the table, and the three sat down. Bogle was the last to finish. He rose and opened the door.

"Come here, youngster," he said.

Brick obeyed. From the threshold the prospect was dreary and dismal. No snow was falling, but it lay deep on the bit of clearing. Overhead was the murky, gray sky; in front the tangled thickets of the marsh.

"I want to tell you where you are," resumed Bogle. "This cabin is in the biggest and loneliest swamp in the State of Maine. Raikes and I built it two years ago. No one ever comes near the locality. The swamp is regarded as inaccessible. Your friends would not find you, if they searched for ten years. Even if you escaped, you could never get put of the swamp. You would lose yourself, and travel around in a circle."

Brick did not doubt the truth of this. A lump rose in his throat as he turned away from the door. He could scarcely repress the tears. Raikes was just putting away the last of the dishes. He glanced meaningly at Bogle. The latter opened the cupboard, and brought out a bottle of ink, a pen, some sheets of paper, a pack of envelopes, and arranged these things on the table.

Brick wondered what was coming next. He felt more curiosity than fear. He did not have long to wait.

Bogle drew a packet of letters from his pocket and held them up. They bore foreign stamps and postmarks.

"Do you recognize these?" he asked.

"Yes," replied Brick, in an aggressive tone. "You stole them out of my coat on the night of the tenth of December."

His face flushed with anger as he remembered all that happened on that occasion.

"No impudence," growled Bogle. "I won't have it. I'm showing you these letters in order that you may see the uselessness of telling us any lies. We know who you are and all about you. You are the son of John Larkins, the wealthy contractor of New York."

"Well, I don't deny it," replied Brick. "What's that to you?"

"You will find out presently," said Bogle, with a mocking smile. "I want a little information first. These letters were written to you by your father. The last one is dated at Mentone on the twenty-fourth of November. Is he still there?"

"Yes."

"And how long will he remain?"

Brick hesitated an instant.

"My parents intend to stay in the south of France until spring," he replied. "My mother's health is poor. My father took her abroad to avoid cold weather."

"And you were left at college in New York," added Bogle, "in care of a lawyer, who acts as a sort of guardian. What brought you to Maine at this time of year?"

"I won't answer that," replied Brick, sullenly.

Bogle's eyes flashed. He made a threatening move forward. But a glance from Raikes checked him.

"If the answer was of any importance, I'd soon find a way to open your lips," he said, coolly. "Now sit down at that table and take the pen. You must write two letters—one to your father, the other to this lawyer, Frederick Glendale, whose address you know. I will dictate them. Do you understand?"

A light broke suddenly on Brick's bewildered mind. He saw now why he had been brought to this lonely place. His blood fairly boiled with indignation. He faced Bogle with flashing eyes.

"You may keep me here for a lifetime," he cried, angrily, "but I won't write a line."



CHAPTER XXI.

PLUNGED UNDER GROUND.

For two reasons Jerry and Hamp stayed but a short time at their temporary camp by the Mallowgash.

In the first place, Hamp quickly recovered from the chilling effects of his bath, and refused to be considered an invalid any longer. In the second place, both lads felt a growing uneasiness concerning Brick. They had no tangible suspicions or fears. They were merely anxious to overtake him, since they were, in a measure, responsible for his safety.

Accordingly, in a little more than an hour after the parting, they were ready to start. They crossed the Mallowgash at the frozen spot, and easily picked up the trail. The two heavy sleds delayed them somewhat. On the whole, they did not travel quite so rapidly as the other party. As time slipped by, their uneasiness grew upon them. They had expected, ere this, to meet Brick coming back. They were alarmed, too, by the threatening aspect of the weather.

Finally they reached the clearing by the stream. Here the short trail of blood gave them a terrible fright. Their looks meant what their lips were afraid to utter—the dread word "murder."

Then Jerry laughed.

"This is nonsense," he said. "It's nothing to be scared about, Hamp. One of the party fell on the snow and scraped his nose. Look! here's where the crust is dented in."

"That's so," replied Hamp, in a relieved tone. "Cracky! I was scared for a minute."

"So was I," admitted Jerry. "They must be having a long, hard chase. Still, they can't be much farther ahead."

"Let's walk faster," urged Hamp. "It's going to snow soon."

They turned to the right, barely glancing at the ledge of rocks and the brawling stream. They left the clearing and plunged into the scrub and timber in the direction of the lake.

They were moving too rapidly to notice that the imprint of but one pair of snowshoes was ahead of them. As they neared the lake, they struck a pitch of rising ground.

The boys dropped into single file. Hamp preceded, and Jerry followed with both sleds.

"I can see a bit of the lake through the trees," said Hamp. "It's not more than half a mile away. We ought to overtake the party between here and the shore."

Just then he struck a slippery pitch of rock and snow, and began to feel his way very cautiously. Six feet below was a fringe of bushes that shut off further view.

Meanwhile Jerry had fallen a little behind. He suddenly observed how slim and indistinct was the trail. He paused at once, and the sleds backed up against his ankles.

He bent over and keenly scrutinized the impressions on the snow.

"Hold on, Hamp," he cried. "Something wrong here. I see the marks of your snowshoes and of another pair. By cracky! we've blundered. There's been only one man ahead of us."

"How can that be?" exclaimed Hamp. "We didn't see any marks branching off."

He was startled by his companion's assertion. He tried to stop, but, unluckily, one foot slipped. He came forcibly down on the snow-crust in a sitting posture.

With a yell of dismay he shot down the slope and plunged through the fringe of bushes. A brief glimpse showed what was below—a circular depression of glistening snow screwing downward like a funnel, until it ended in a jagged black hole of extreme narrowness. The same glimpse made clear to Hamp that some one had created the depression by breaking through the crust of snow and gliding into an underlying cavity of unknown depth. For a fraction of a second Hamp stuck on the brink. He clutched vainly at air and snow. Then he shot down the abyss, feet first, and vanished through the black fissure at the bottom!

Jerry heard his companion's horrified cries. He knew that some catastrophe must have happened. He forgot all about his recent discovery, and plunged recklessly forward. The natural result was that the sleds banged him violently from the rear. Then came a dizzy drop through space, and a collision with something soft, that yelled lustily in Hamp's familiar tones.

"I—I couldn't help it," grasped Jerry, as he rolled to one side.

A second later it was his turn to sing out. A rifle, a haunch of venison, and half-a-dozen tin dishes pelted him in quick succession on the head and shoulders. He looked up with blinking eyes. Then he understood what the avalanche meant.

Ten feet overhead was the gap through which he had fallen. Both sleds had stuck there, and blocked it so completely that only a slim crevice of light was visible. The straps on one of the sleds had broken, allowing part of the contents to fall through.

Jerry held his breath for an instant, expecting another avalanche. When nothing more fell, he recovered his presence of mind.

"That you, Hamp?" he whispered. "Are you hurt?"

"I don't think so. I fell on a pile of snow."

"Neither am I," declared Jerry. "It was a lucky escape for both of us. I haven't got a bruise."

"No wonder," replied Hamp, in an injured tone. "You landed right on top of me. I'm just getting my wind back."

"I'm awfully sorry," said Jerry, "but I couldn't help it."

"Oh, that's all right. Only if I had known you were coming, I would have crawled out of the way. Where are we, anyhow?"

"That's what I want to know," Jerry replied. "It must be a cavern, Hamp. The entrance was on top, and it got snowed over in the big storm."

"Some one broke through the crust before us," said Hamp, "for I saw the marks as I was falling."

"Then he's in here now, whoever he is," whispered Jerry, in a startled voice. "He couldn't have reached the hole to get out."

There was a moment of terrible silence. The boys huddled close together and shivered with fear. Their hearts beat loudly and rapidly.

"I don't hear anything," whispered Hamp. "Do you?"

"Not a sound," replied Jerry. "Wait a second. I'll settle the matter."

He pulled out his metal box of matches and scraped one. As the light flared up, the lads glanced anxiously around them.

They saw at once that they were in an underground cavern. To right and left stretched a gloomy passage, ten feet wide. The sides and roof were of jagged, slimy rock, dripping with moisture.

Deep footsteps crossed the snow and led into the yawning blackness to the right. They were of recent origin, for the white imprint was visible in half-a-dozen places on the smooth, rocky floor.

"Do you see that?" Jerry whispered, hoarsely. "There is some person here, sure enough."

"Who can it be?" said Hamp. "Perhaps it's Brick."

In a clear, distinct voice he called the missing lad's name several times. But there was no reply. Jerry shook his head.

"It's not Brick," he muttered. "How would he get separated from his companions? We were following only one trail toward the last, so this may be Sparwick."

"Then why did Brick and those men give up the chase and branch off?" asked Hamp. "It's too deep a mystery for me."

"It is sort of puzzling," admitted Jerry, "but we won't bother about that now. Whoever it was that fell into the cavern, I believe he has found a way out by this time, and that's the first thing we want to do."

"I hate the idea of crawling through the dark," muttered Hamp.

"The matches will last if we use them sparingly," Jerry replied. "We've got to take this stuff with us, though. No; we'll leave the venison behind. Here's the rifle. Be careful, for it's loaded."

He gave Hamp the weapon and some of the dishes. The rest he took himself. When he picked up the tin coffeepot, it rattled. He lifted the lid, and found two sperm candles.

"Here's luck," he exclaimed. "How did they get here? We're sure of light now."

"Brick put them in the coffeepot this morning," said Hamp. "He had them in his pocket, and didn't want to carry them."

"Brick ought to have a medal for that," declared Jerry, as he lighted one of the candles. "Have we got everything? Yes; come on."

They trampled over the snow and went cautiously and slowly along the gloomy passage. The yellow gleam of the candle danced ahead of them and threw grotesque shadows on the slimy walls and roof. They advanced ten feet. The distance increased to twenty. As yet, not a speck of daylight could be seen.

Suddenly a rustling noise was heard. A low, angry growl followed instantly. Beyond the radius of candlelight the terrified boys saw a pair of fiery, snapping eyes. They stopped and turned half around.

"The rifle, quick!" cried Jerry.

He snatched it out of his companion's hands and gave him the candle instead. But before Jerry could lift the hammer of the weapon a startling interruption came from an unexpected quarter.



CHAPTER XXII.

AN UNEXPECTED ALLY.

A little in front of the lads, and to their left, a slab of rock jutted out from the side of the passage.

From behind this suddenly emerged a tall, gaunt figure. It was no less a personage than Kyle Sparwick.

No doubt Sparwick had also seen the snapping eyes, and it was this which had scared him from his hiding-place.

A low, savage growl rang through the cavern. Sparwick uttered a yell, and dashed forward. In his terror, he probably thought only of flight.

But the glare of the candle led him astray, and he collided blindly with Jerry. Both came to the rocky floor with a crash, and each imagined that the other had attacked him.

The two rolled over and over, locked in a tight embrace, and uttering hoarse cries. Jerry had dropped the rifle; nor could he reach for it, since his hands were needed for other purposes.

With one fist Sparwick pounded his antagonist on the face and breast. Jerry warded off the blows as well as he could, and tried to return them.

"Let me go!" he cried. "Help! help!"

"Let me go," yelled Sparwick, in shrill tones. "There's some sort of wild critter in this here place."

Jerry did not understand what he said. There was a comical side to the struggle, for each was trying to break away, and each imagined that the other was striving to hold him.

Meanwhile, Hamp held the candle and looked on like a piece of statuary. In fact, he did not know what else to do.

"Put the candle down," yelled Jerry. "Get the rifle and hit this fellow on the head."

But before Hamp could make a single move toward the execution of this order, he saw something that made his eyes fairly bulge out of their sockets. Where the fiery eyes had been seen a moment before, now appeared a monstrous bear.

The creature was fat, and his short, black fur bristled with rage. He was evidently ravenously hungry, and came swinging down the passage, uttering growl after growl.

Just when bruin was within six feet of them, Jerry and Sparwick caught sight of him. Their yells of fright blended into one. Who broke loose first, it is impossible to say. They tumbled apart, and scrambled in hot haste to their feet. Sparwick slipped back against the wall, and the delay proved fatal.

The bear was right upon him, having risen to his hind legs. A single blow from one of the great paws toppled the unfortunate man over on hands and knees.

Jerry saw the disaster, made a frantic dash, and ran into Hamp's arms. The latter dropped the candle, and it was extinguished as soon as it struck the floor, plunging the scene in utter darkness.

The first impulse of the terror-stricken lads was to get as far away as possible. But Sparwick's shrill cries for help checked them. The panicky feeling fled, and they regained their courage and self-possession.

"Hold on!" cried Jerry. "We can't leave the fellow to such a fate, even if he is a rascal."

"That's so," replied Hamp. "Strike a match, quick!"

Jerry already had the metal box out of his pocket, and the words were barely spoken when the tiny flame of a match pierced the darkness.

Jerry spied the candle as quickly. He grabbed it, and lit the wick. Then the brighter light showed the boys a startling picture.

Ten feet distant stood the bear, still erect on his hind legs. He had his forepaws about Sparwick, and was straining him to his breast. The angry growls of the animal mingled with the shrill, pitiful cries of the man.

"Look, there's the rifle!" exclaimed Hamp.

It lay two or three feet this side of the bear.

"I see it," cried Jerry. "Here, take the candle."

Then, by a swift and clever dash, he captured the weapon and retreated a few paces. He hesitated only long enough to pull back the hammer. Springing forward again, he fearlessly pressed the muzzle of the rifle against the bear's head, and pulled the trigger.

A frightful report followed. The whole cavern seemed to shake. Flakes of stone and dirt fell from the roof and walls. The boys were dazed and deafened by the sound. The candle was extinguished, and by the time Jerry struck a match and relit it, the powder smoke had lifted.

The bear lay motionless on his back. Sparwick was crawling toward the lads on hands and knees. He stopped, and sat up against the wall of the cavern. His face was deathly pale, and a wheezy, gasping sound came from his lips.

Jerry first satisfied himself that the bear was dead. Then he turned to his former enemy.

"Are you hurt badly?" he asked.

"I reckon not," replied Sparwick, with a painful effort. "I was purty well squeezed, but I'm gettin' my breath back now. The critter hit me a lick here, but it ain't no account."

He pointed to his left shoulder, from which the coat and shirt had been partially torn away.

"I gave you up for dead," said Jerry. "It was a close shave."

"Close ain't no word for it," declared Sparwick. "You saved my life, young feller, an' I ain't the man to furget it. Words ain't much in my line, or I might say I was sorry for certain things. Howsomever, here's what I took from that pardner of your'n."

He produced the watch and pocketbook, and handed them to the boys.

"Yes; they're Brick's," said Jerry. "But didn't you see anything of him yourself? He started after you this morning with two men. Hamp and I followed a couple of hours later. Somehow or other we lost their tracks, and got onto yours."

"Yes; I seen them all," replied Sparwick, in a peculiar tone. "Your pardner is in a bad way."

"What do you mean?" cried Hamp and Jerry, in one breath.

Sparwick hesitated an instant to get his wind. Then he related, just as the reader already knows it, the assault on Brick, and the lad's subsequent abduction.

"How I come ter see it was this way," he explained, in conclusion. "I traveled purty fast arter leavin' the Mallowgash, and when I reached that clearing back yonder, I was nearly done out. So I dropped down in the timber an' bushes for a rest. I hadn't been there more'n half an hour when the two men an' the lad come along. Then happened what I just finished tellin' you. The affair was none of my business, and I couldn't a-helped the young fellow any if I'd wanted to. I struck back in this direction, an' first thing I knowed, I broke through the crust, an' found myself under ground. I was huntin' the way out when you fellers tumbled in."

The effect of Sparwick's story upon Jerry and Hamp may be better imagined than described.

"I thought there was something wrong with those men," exclaimed Hamp, wrathfully. "They've been dogging us ever since we came into the woods."

"But why did they carry Brick off with them after they had all his money?" asked Jerry. "That's the strange part of the affair."

"It beats me, too," admitted Sparwick. "They had his money, sure enough, fur I seen them countin' it over. Mebbe they took him along for their own safety, an' mebbe there's a worse reason——"

"You don't think they would kill him?" interrupted Jerry, quickly.

Sparwick looked grave.

"No; I wouldn't like to say that," he replied. "But them fellers are bad men, an' there's no tellin' what they might do."

"You know them?" asked Hamp, in surprise.

"Yes; this many a year. But I wanter hear this whole yarn afore I kin give any opinion."

Accordingly, Jerry and Hamp related what little there was to tell. Brick's abduction threw light on some things that had been mysteries before. It was Jerry's keen wit that identified Joe Bogle with the missionary on the train. Sparwick took the same view of the matter.

"Yes," he admitted, "I reckon Bogle is the party that tried to rob your friend at Bangor that night. Knowin' the lad had money, he an' Raikes planned to follow you chaps into the woods. As I said before, I know the men well. Bogle and Raikes ain't their right names, for they have a heap of others. But we'll call 'em that for the present."