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CHAPTER XV
A QUEER FIND

Off through the woods ran the Darewell chums, and it needed but a moment’s listening to tell them that the two mysterious men were after them.

“Hurry!” called Frank to Fenn, who, because of his natural inability, was not able to run as fast as could the others. “Come on, or they’ll catch you!”

“I don’t see – what we’ve done – that we – should run,” panted the stout youth. “These woods – are free. Why haven’t we – a right to walk in them?”

“This is out west and they do things differently from what they do where we come from,” responded Bart, looking back. “Evidently those men didn’t want to be observed.”

“Are they coming?” asked Ned.

“No,” replied Bart, pausing in his race, “they seemed to have stopped in that little clearing we just passed through.”

“The Chinese is trying to induce the white man to come back,” said Frank.

This was the case for, as the boys watched, they saw the pig-tailed Celestial grasp his companion by the arm, and, pointing toward the lake, fairly pull him back along the path they had come.

“They must be interested in some boat,” suggested Fenn. “Say, fellows,” he added hastily. “I’ll bet I know what it is.”

“What?” inquired Bart, as he stooped over to pick a lot of burdock burrs from his trousers.

“These men have something to do with the two who chased us back at the elevator fire. I’ll bet they’re part of the same gang, and they’re trying to work some trick on the Modoc! We ought to hurry back and tell Captain Wiggs!”

“Oh, you’re ’way off!” declared Frank. “I don’t believe these men even know those who chased us.”

“Then who are they?” demanded Fenn.

“I don’t know,” said Frank. “Evidently they are interested in some boat they expect from across the lake. That is very evident from the way they acted; looking through the telescope, and all that. Perhaps they have mistaken our vessel for the one they are looking for.”

“No,” remarked Bart. “I noticed when the Chinese pointed the glass he aimed it in a different direction from that in which the Modoc lies.”

“Then what boat are they expecting?” asked Ned.

“That’s too big a question for me,” replied Bart. “It certainly is a queer thing to see a Chinese and a white man in such close company, off here in the woods.”

“And then the auto,” put in Fenn. “What do you suppose that’s for?”

“It’s part of the same game,” was Frank’s opinion.

“Well, I don’t know that it’s up to us to discover it,” went on Fenn. “It’s about time we got back to the ship, anyhow. Come on. We’ll keep on this way, and fetch around to the beach in a circle. Then we’ll not run across those two queer men.”

The boys advanced, laying their course as best they could. Now and then, through the trees, they could get a glimpse of the lake, and they knew they were going in the right direction.

They came to a little gully, in a dense part of the woods, and had to descend into it, to get across, as it extended for quite a distance in either direction. Frank led the way, half slipping, half sliding down the sides. As he reached the bottom he gave a startled cry that alarmed his companions.

“Hurt yourself?” asked Bart.

“No, but look what I’ve found!”

“A gold mine?” inquired Ned, with a laugh.

“Part of a clothing store,” replied Frank. “Look!” and he pointed to where, behind a clump of trees, was a large pile of men’s clothing, hats, shoes, coats, vests, trousers and shirts.

“That solves the mystery!” exclaimed Fenn.

“How?” asked Bart.

“Why there’s been a big robbery! The men have hidden their booty in the woods, until they have a chance to carry it away. Those two men we just saw are members of the gang. They’re keeping a look-out until their boat comes and then they’ll take the stuff away. Yes, that’s it!”

“I believe Fenn’s right,” declared Ned.

“Do you?” asked Frank quietly. “Then how do you account for the fact that all the garments are old? There’s not a new one among ’em, not even the shoes. You can see for yourself.”

The boys looked more closely at the garments, which were arranged in piles, with canvas coverings tossed to one side, as though they had been protected from the weather, and recently opened. They did not touch the things, but it did not need a close inspection to show that Frank was right. The garments were all old ones.

“If there was a robbery it must have been of a second-hand store,” went on Frank, “and that’s not likely. Besides, see here,” and he pointed a little farther off, where a heap of Chinese clothing lay on the ground.

“Well, if this doesn’t beat the Dutch!” exclaimed Bart. “What do you make out of that?”

It was a strange find. First to come across a Chinese and an American, in excited conversation in the depths of the woods, and then to discover a pile of clothes, such as are worn by white men, close to a heap, evidently discarded by a band of Celestials, was sufficient, as Bart said, to beat not only the Dutch, but the French, English, German, Spanish and a few other nations.

The boys went closer to the garments of the Celestials. These clothes, as did the others, exhibited unmistakable signs of wear. But they were not piled in orderly heaps; instead, being tossed carelessly together, as if they were no longer of any service.

“Isn’t this a regular Chinese puzzle?” remarked Ned.

“I believe they are Chinese smugglers!” chorused Fenn and Bart.

“That’s what,” said Frank. “Those two men we saw were evidently the look-outs, watching for the boat load to arrive. When the travelers from the Flowery Kingdom land, they are brought here, to this secluded place, and here they take off their blouses and wide pants, and put on old American clothes. Old ones, so they attract no attention. I’ll wager that’s the solution to this Chinese puzzle.”

“But where do the Chinamen come from?” asked Ned. “We’re a good ways from China.”

“From Canada,” answered Frank. “I remember reading lately about a lot of Chinese who were taken into Canada from the Pacific coast. They were brought by rail to a place on Lake Superior about opposite here, and smuggled into this country in boats.”

“That’s right,” agreed Bart. “I read how one boat load, which the smugglers were bringing over, was caught in a storm, and all the Chinese drowned.”

“But why do they bring them over?” asked Fenn, who was usually too full of fun, or too interested in some girl, to pay much attention to current events.

“Why, there’s a United States law against letting any more Chinese come in,” explained Frank. “The only way they can get in is to smuggle here. It’s easy to get them into Canada, and then, if they can make a trip across the lake, and land in some secluded spot, they’re all right, if they’re not discovered, and that is no easy matter, as the Chinese all look so much alike.”

“Then that white man we saw must have been one of the agents engaged in smuggling,” said Bart. “I’ve read they have a regularly organized company, and get good money from the Chinese whom they smuggle over. The pig-tailed chap with him, was evidently a helper or interpreter, who was on hand because the boat was expected.”

“That’s why they were looking across the lake with a telescope then,” ventured Fenn. “Say, it’s as clear as daylight now. I wonder if we couldn’t stay and see ’em land?”

“Not much!” exclaimed Frank. “The chances are the plans are all off, for the time being. That white man will suspect we were spying on him, and when they ran back that time, I guess it was to signal to the boat not to land. We must have given them quite a scare.”

“But what was the auto for?” asked Ned, who liked to go into details, and who always wanted to know the why and wherefore of things.

“I guess it was to take the Chinese to some place where they could stay until it was safe to venture out,” said Frank. “Sometimes they have to jump around pretty lively, I imagine, especially if the government detectives get after them.”

“Perhaps we’d better go and tell Captain Wiggs what we have discovered,” suggested Fenn. “He may want to notify the authorities.”

“Good idea,” commented Bart. “Come on.”

As the boys started to leave the little gully where the clothing was hidden, they heard a noise behind them. Turning quickly they saw the white man and Chinese, as they broke through the underbrush.

“They’re after us!” exclaimed Fenn in a hoarse whisper.

CHAPTER XVI
FIRE ON BOARD

But this time it proved to be the other way about. The two mysterious men, at the sight of the boys, dived back into the woods again, and showed no desire to come to closer acquaintance with them. Instead of taking after the four chums, the men acted as though they feared pursuit.

“They’re running away from us!” exclaimed Frank. “I guess we haven’t anything to fear from them.”

Suddenly, through the forest, there sounded a shrill steam whistle.

“What’s that?” asked Ned.

“Captain Wiggs, signalling to us,” replied Frank. “I guess we’ve stayed in the woods too long. Come on.”

“Maybe it’s the smugglers’ boat,” suggested Fenn.

“I guess not,” Frank remarked. “They’ve been signalled to keep off. That was the Modoc’s whistle. I recognized it.”

Frank’s words proved correct, for, when the boys reached the shore, they again heard the signal, and saw steam coming from the whistle pipe of the vessel on which they were cruising.

“Look there!” exclaimed Frank, pointing off to the left. The boys glanced in the direction, and saw a boat. From the funnels black smoke was pouring, as if every effort was being made to get up steam. “That’s the smugglers’ craft, very likely,” the lad went on. “She’s making fast time away from here.”

Captain Wiggs listened gravely to what the boys had to tell him. He agreed with Frank, that the smugglers of Chinese had tried to make a landing, but, evidently, had been frightened off.

“What will they do now?” asked Ned.

“Change the landing place to some other locality,” replied the captain. “Up or down the coast. Up, I should say, seeing the way that steamer’s headed,” and he pointed to the craft, with the black smoke hanging like a cloud over it. The vessel was almost out of sight.

“What will they do with the clothes?” asked Bart.

“Oh, they’ll take ’em along. Probably that’s what the two men came to get, when they saw you and ran away. It’s a well organized business, this Chinese smuggling, and there is a lot of money in it – for the agents. They are probably saying all kinds of mean things about you, for breaking up their plans.”

“Then I hope they don’t catch us alone off in the woods, sometime,” remarked Fenn. “That Chinese didn’t look like a very pleasant fellow to meet after dark; especially if he had a grudge against you.”

“I think you’ve seen the last of ’em,” declared Captain Wiggs. “If I thought it worth while I’d notify the government authorities, but, by the time I could get a message to ’em, the smugglers will be miles away. There’s no telling where they’ll land next time. The steamer will hang around the coast, until it gets a signal all is clear. Then the pig-tails will be dumped into a boat, rowed ashore, and the vessel will scoot off for another load in Canada.”

The anchor was broken out, hoisted, and soon, under a good head of steam, the Modoc was proceeding over Lake Superior at a fast rate, for, though he carried no perishable freight, and had no special date of arriving at Duluth, Captain Wiggs believed in doing what he had to do as quickly as possible.

That night Fenn, who was not sleeping as soundly as he should, in consequence of having eaten too much supper, was awakened by hearing a peculiar buzzing noise. At first he could not locate it, and then, after sitting up in his bunk, he decided it came from the stateroom adjoining his, and which had no occupant this voyage.

“It sounds like a hive of bees,” he said to himself. “I wonder if the captain can have any in there.”

Then the absurdity of such an idea was apparent to him, and he smiled at his notion. Still the buzzing continued, growing louder. Fenn was wide awake now.

“Maybe something is wrong with the ship,” he reasoned. “That sound might be water coming in through a leak. I think I’ll tell the captain.”

He got up, and, moving about his stateroom, in search of his trousers and slippers, he knocked a glass out of the rack.

“What’s that?” called Frank, who was a light sleeper.

“It’s me,” replied Fenn.

“What’s the matter? Sick?”

“No, but I heard a funny sound, and I want to find out what it is. Maybe the boat’s sprung another leak.”

“Oh, you’re dreaming,” commented Frank. “Go back to bed.”

“Well, you come in here and listen, if you think I’m dreaming,” retorted Fenn.

Frank jumped out of his berth and came into his chum’s room. The buzzing had increased in intensity, and Frank had no difficulty in hearing it.

“What did I tell you?” asked Fenn, in triumph.

“It is a queer sound,” admitted Frank. “What’s in that next room?”

“Nothing, that I know of. I passed it this morning, the door was open, and it was empty.”

“Then let’s have a look,” suggested Frank, stepping out into the passage.

“Maybe you’d better – maybe it’s a – ” stammered Fenn.

“Well, what?” demanded Frank. “Are you afraid?”

“Maybe it’s an infernal machine those smugglers put aboard,” went on Fenn. “It sounds just like one.”

“How do you know how an infernal machine sounds?” asked Frank.

“Well, I mean like I’ve read of their sounding.”

“Oh, that’s different. But this is no such thing. Besides, how could the smugglers get one aboard? They haven’t been near the ship.”

This was, of course, unanswerable, and Fenn followed Frank into the corridor, and to the door of the stateroom, whence sounded the peculiar buzzing noise. As they stood outside the portal it could be heard more plainly.

“Here goes!” whispered Frank, turning the knob.

Both he and Fenn started back in surprise, at the sight which greeted them. There, sitting in a steamer chair, in a big red bath robe, was the invalid, Mr. Ackerman. On the bunk in front of him was a small box, from which extended cords, terminating in shining metal tubes, which he held in his hand. The buzzing was coming from the small box.

“Oh, boys, I’m glad to see you!” exclaimed the man who thought he was sick.

“What’s the matter?” asked Frank, in some alarm.

“I’m taking a current of electricity, from my medical battery,” was the answer.

“Electricity?” repeated the two chums, in questioning accents.

“Yes, from the battery. You see I couldn’t sleep, and I often find a current of electricity is beneficial. I did not want to awaken Captain Wiggs with the buzz of my machine, for it makes quite a noise, so I brought it into this empty stateroom. I hope I didn’t disturb you.”

Mr. Ackerman did not wait for the boys to answer. Instead he continued:

“But I’m glad you came in. I want to take a stronger current, and it goes better if I have some one to share it with me. If you will be so kind, you can each take one of the tubes in your hand, and I will take hold of your other hands. Thus we will form a circle, with me in the center. I think I shall be able to get a current then, that will cause me to go to sleep.”

The boys were a little apprehensive, for, though they had taken electric “shocks” at school, during the experiments, they did not care for the amusement. However, they did not like to refuse, so, rather gingerly, Fenn grasped one handle, and Frank the other. Mr. Ackerman then did something to the battery which made it buzz louder than ever.

“All ready,” he announced, as he grasped Fenn’s right hand in his left and Frank’s left in his right.

The instant that he did so it seemed as if the trio had been hit by something. They all doubled up, the arms of the boys and the invalid jerking like the legs of a frog.

“Ow!” cried Fenn.

“Let go!” called Frank.

But there was no need for any one to let go. With an exclamation of great astonishment, Mr. Ackerman jerked his hands from the involuntary grip of the boys’. That at once broke the circuit, and the current ceased to have any effect. The machine was still buzzing away, however.

“Oh, dear! Oh, dear!” murmured the invalid. “I meant to turn on the weak current, and I turned on the strong one! Did you get bad shocks, boys?”

“Did we!” exclaimed Fenn. “Say, it feels as if I had eaten some strong horse-radish by mistake.”

“It seems as if a mule kicked me,” remarked Frank, rubbing his arms.

“I’m very sorry,” apologized Mr. Ackerman. “I really did not intend that. I hope you believe I did not.” He seemed quite distressed over the happening.

“That’s all right,” spoke Fenn, good-naturedly. “We know it was an accident.”

“Rather a fortunate accident, too,” went on the invalid. “My nerves are much calmer now. I really think I shall be able to go to sleep. I must have taken the right kind of a current without knowing it. I’ll do it the next time I find myself too wakeful.”

“Please excuse us from helping,” begged Frank, with a smile. “It’s a little too much.”

“Oh, no, I wouldn’t think of shocking you again,” said Mr. Ackerman as he began to take the battery apart for packing. “I shall take the current alone. But there, I must not talk or I shall be awake again. I must hurry and get to sleep.”

“Isn’t he the limit!” exclaimed Fenn, when he and Frank were back in the stateroom again. “He thinks that was fun for us.”

The electrical treatment appeared to improve the sick man, for, the next day he was much better, and even laughed and joked about the night’s experience.

The Modoc continued on her course, putting many knots behind her, and the boys were more and more delighted with their cruise, which every day revealed to them new beauties of scenery.

One afternoon, when they were within a day’s travel of Duluth, Captain Wiggs, who was sitting on deck with the four chums, arose suddenly and began to sniff the air.

“What’s the matter? Is the cook burning the steak?” asked Fenn.

“Something’s burning,” answered the commander, with a grave face.

A moment later a sailor, much excited, came rushing up on deck.

“Fire in the forward hold, sir!” he called.

CHAPTER XVII
A STRANGE VISION

Captain Wiggs was not built on speed lines. He was short and squatty, and inclined to be fat. But the way in which he hustled about as soon as he heard what the sailor said was sufficient to qualify him to enter a go-as-you-please race of almost any kind.

With a few jumps he was at the companionway leading below, and, as he went the boys could hear him call out:

“Ring the fire alarm! Every man to his station! Someone tell the pilot to slow down! Signal to the engineer to get the pumps in gear!”

Nor were the members of the crew slow to carry out the commander’s instructions. One man rang the automatic fire alarm, that sounded in every part of the vessel. Another hurried to the bridge, where he delivered the message about stopping the boat. The Modoc at once began to lose way and, a moment later, the vibration from the engine room told the boys that the pumps had been started.

“Let’s go below and see if we can help,” suggested Bart, and the four chums went down in a hurry. They found men dragging lines of hose forward where little curls of smoke began coming from an open hatchway.

“Drown her out, men!” cried the captain. “It’ll be all day with us if the flames get loose in that dry freight!”

Several of the men, dragging the snaky lines of hose, dropped down into the hold. They called for water, and the captain signalled for it to be turned on. The flat hose bulged out like a snake after a full meal, and a splashing sound from below told that the quenching fluid was getting in its work.

“Can we do anything?” asked Fenn, as he saw Captain Wiggs taking off his coat and donning oil skins.

“Not now, I guess. You might stand by for orders though. There’s no telling into what this will develope.”

It was getting quite smoky below, and the hold, down into which the commander had disappeared, was pouring out a volume of black vapor.

“Tell ’em to send another line of hose!” came a voice from below, and Fenn hurried to the engineer’s room with the order.

Several men sprang at once to obey. The hose was unreeled from a rack on the partition, and run out to the hold. Then the engineer started another pump, that had been held in reserve.

There were now three lines of hose pouring water on the flames, which the boys could not see. That the blaze was not succumbing so quickly as had been hoped for, was evident by the shouts and excitement that came from the depths of the ship.

“Tell ’em to give us more water!” yelled the captain to the boys waiting above.

Frank rushed with the order, glad to escape the smoke, which was momentarily growing thicker.

“Tell him he’s got all the water I can give him!” shouted the engineer, above the noise of the clanking machinery. “One of the pumps has gone out of commission!”

Frank shouted what the engineer had said to Captain Wiggs, below in the darkness.

“Then we’ve got to batten down the hatches and turn live steam into this hold!” was what the commander called back. “Tell him to get up a good head!”

Frank did so. When he returned Captain Wiggs was just making his way out of the hold. He was black, and smoke-begrimed, while he dripped water from every point of his yellow garments.

“Is there any danger?” asked Ned.

“There always is with a fire aboard a ship,” answered the commander. “But I think we’ll be able to hold her down if we get plenty of steam. Come on up, men,” he added, and the sailors scrambled up. They looked more like colored, than white men.

Captain Wiggs acted quickly. When the last man was up, the hatches, or coverings to the hold, were fastened down, and tarpaulins, wet with water, to make them air tight, were spread over the top. Then, from pipes which ran into the hold from below, and which were for use in emergency, jets of live steam were blown into the compartment.

This, the commander knew, would penetrate to every nook and corner, reaching where water could not, and would soon quench the flames.

“Now, all we can do is to wait,” said the captain, as he sat down, for he was almost exhausted.

That was the hardest part of all. When one can be busy at something, getting out of danger, or fighting a fire that can be seen, the nervous fear is swallowed up in action. But to sit and wait – wait for the unseen steam to do its work, – that was very trying.

Still there was no help for it. Captain Wiggs looked to the other part of the cargo, seeing that there was no danger of that taking fire. The forward hold was separated from the others by thick bulkheads, and there was little chance of the fire breaking through. The hull of the Modoc was of steel, and, provided the fire did not get hot enough to warp any of the plates, there was small danger to the ship itself.

“We’ll have to head for shore, in case it becomes necessary to break out the cargo,” decided the captain, as he went on deck. “Come on, boys. We can do nothing now, and we want to get some of this smoke out of our lungs.”

The course of the ship was changed. Captain Wiggs got out his charts and looked them over.

“Where will we land?” asked Fenn.

“Not much of anywhere,” was the reply. “There is no good harbor this side of Duluth, but I’ve got to do the best I can. There is a little bay, about opposite here. There’s no settlement near it, but I understand there’s a good shore, and I’m going to make for it, in case this fire gets beyond my control.”

Urged on by all the steam the engines could take, though much was needed for the fire, the vessel plowed ahead.

“Land ho!” called the lookout, and the captain, taking an observation, announced they were close to the bay of which he had spoken. When it was reached it was found to be a secluded harbor, with nothing in sight on the shores of it save a few old huts, that appeared to be deserted.

“Not a very lively place,” commented the captain. “Still, it will do all right if we have to land the cargo.”

The anchor was dropped and then all there was to do was to wait for the fire to be extinguished.

The boys remained on deck, looking at the scenery about them. Back of the bay, rising almost from the edge of the water, were a series of steep cliffs, of bare rock for the most part, but studded, here and there, with clumps of bushes and small trees, that somehow, found a lodgement for their roots on little ledges.

“It’s a lonesome sort of place,” remarked Fenn. “Not a soul within sight.”

Hardly had he spoken than there was seen on the face of the cliff, as if by a trick, the figure of a man. He seemed to come out, as does a magic-lantern picture on a sheet, so quickly did he appear where, before, there had been nothing but bare brown rock.

“Look!” exclaimed Fenn, pointing.

“A Chinaman!” exclaimed Bart. “One of the smugglers!”

The boys jumped to their feet, and approached closer to the ship’s rail, to get a better view.

As they did so the Chinese vanished as though the cliff wall had opened and swallowed him up.