Four Flush Island

Taranaki Daily News, 13 April 1935, Page 23 (Supplement)

Four Flush Island

(by

CHAPTER XXV (continued.)

With the confidence she had come to feel in him she was le&s afraid than curious. ~y, when already they had .obtained all from the island that for so long they had strained every effort to obtain, should the criminals so quickly return? One would have thought their first idea would have been to put as much distance between themselves and the scene as possible. Natalie passed through the living-room and out at the back door, so that the shack was between herself and the lake. Choosing a moment when the moon was obscured by clouds she slipped into the woods, and under cover of the trees mpde her way to Johnnie Bill’s tent. A 3 she expected, it was empty. - With this reassurance she went back* to Betty, who by this time had returned to the living-room, with the door , closed. As Natalie slipped inside she bolted it. “It won’t take half a second to let Johnnie Bill in,” she said, if he wants to come. In the meanwhile it’s safer for us. Go fasten the back door as well.” This done, they watched the rapidly approaching canoe. The moon once more clear, the figures of Platt and Stagsden were plainly visible. That they had no thought but that the island was deserted was shown by their neither shutting off their engine nor making any attempt to lower their-voices. Though the words were indistinguishable they did not give the impression of men who recently had attained a' long striven-for object. The two girls watched in silence, ; wondering what Johnnie Bill’s move would be.

They were not left long in doubt. When the canoe was within seventy yards of the shore a shot rang out from somewhere along the beach. Like a horse yielding to an abruptly tugged rein the frail craft swerved suddenly from its course, and a splinter of wood flew upward from the prow. “Good huntin’, Johnnie Bill!” Natalie cried approvingly.

In spite of the surprise such a greeting must have held for him, Platt instantaneously wrenched the tiller round. The little craft described an abrupt semicircle; evidently the intention was to retreat out of range. Immediately it was broadside to the island a second shot was fired. They saw Platt’s lightning duck as the bullet whined past, and then frenzidly build cover from various bundles in the canoe. Stagsden, too, .cowered down until only a small part of him was visible about the gunwale. “That’ll lam him,” remarked Betty in a tone of satisfaction.

Followed by more shots the canoe retreated at the.full power of its engine. It was evident the unexpected nature of their reception had brought a change to the marauders’ plan. It.must, have been highly disconcerting, Natalie thought, where they had expected an open house, to be greeted with a hail of bullets. Johnnie Bill stood up in the scrub, and his rifle in the crook of his arm, strode over to the shack. He did not, however, enter; not appearing to think the late occurrence in .any- way unexpected or alarming. ' “They not come back to-night,” he said through the open window and in the manner of one stating a fact rather than offering an opinion. Natalie smiled involuntarily. In all her experience there was no individual who in dealing with his fellows could so calmly and efficiently cut out all unessentials. Kit was reticent enough, but he was an avalanche of small-talk in comparison with the Cree. “Thank you for those kind words, Johnnie Bill,” she said. “We can do with a little;sleep,” she hesitated. “You.think they’ll come back eventually?” she asked. He nodded. “Sure they come back,” he said shortly, and made his way to his tent,-..; - - : CHAPTER XXVI. ' ••- LIGHT ON A MYSTERY. The questions uppermost in the' girls’ minds were: Would Kit and Tim be back in time to greet the raiders? Also, and following whatever inquiries they had made regarding Pearce’s non-return, did the criminals know the police were on their track? If so, •it was certain that their conduct would very largely be influenced by the knowledge. “It looks as if Johnnie Bill was right when he said they took nothing away to amount to anything,” Betty remarked on the morning following the attempted raid. “You mean that’s why they came back —to renew the search?” Natalie asked, and Betty nodded. “What else was keeping them to a locality that, soon’s we could report what happened, was going to be the unhealthiest they could choose to stay around in?” she asked. Natalie considered this for a moment, for the same thought had occurred to what was it they took from the cache under the fireplace?” she inquired. Betty could offer no solution, and said so. ( , “I guess that Cree Indian’s the only one who can answer that, she said, “and he’s as full of information as a paralysed oyster.” “Anyway, we’ll ask him, said Natalie, and called Johnnie Bill into the shack. “Just a lil’ joke of old man Barraclough,” he said, for, unlike Tfis rather cavalier treatment of Betty, he never failed to answer a direct question from Natalie.

Natalie knitted her brows: “Joke!” she repeated. “That is the first I’ve heard of my great-uncle being a humorist. What kind of a joke was it?”

L. C. Douthwaite)

(To be continued.)

“Paper,” Johnnie Bill replied tersely. “A clue, likely,” prompted Betty, who had been listening with intense interest. Natalie’s hold over the Indian was a never-ceasing source of astonishment to her. She knew, for instance, that she herself would have stood small chance of extracting the information. “Is that what it was?” Natalie inquired of the Cree, taking Betty’s hint. “He say where—something—was buried,” Johnnie Bill said.

“I don’t see anything to set the table in a roar over that,” Natalie said with a frown.. “Telling someo:/: else where something of value is hidden and that now belongs to me, I mean. What is there funny in that?” The faintest shadow of a smile gleamed for a moment on Johnnie Bill’s tightly compressed mouth. “It wasn’t there,” he said simply.

Natalie looked up sharply. “What wasn’t there?” she asked quickly. “Do you mean—the—whatever it was the paper referred to.” “Yes; it -wasn't where the paper said. All a joke. Old man Barraclough fool ’em. see? He get to know they aftersomething—an’ think maybe they like runnin’ around.”

The girl’s heart accelerated. Apart from the material loss, the fact of the two gunmen making hay of possessions she had come to cherish, and walking calmly away, with her property had been a blow to her pride and a stimulation of her fighting spirit. The thought that her two oppressors had come on a fool’s errarid was gratifying. • “Johnnie Bill,” 1 she said with quiet purposefulness, “come through. Tell me what it is that you think, or know, is hidden on this island. Or is it that it’s all just another demonstration of my uncle’s peculiar sense of humour, and that actually all this bother and—and danger's all about nothing.” There was a long silence. It was as though in response to the challenge the Indian was deliberating, with the slow but intensive concentration of his race, the advisability of frankness. “Gold,” he said at last. She looked at him incredulously. “But from where?” she asked. There was no pause this time; he spoke as one with exact knowledge. “The claim,” he said.

There was something wrong here, obviously. She exchanged a glance with Betty. “But how can that be?” she said. “No gold’s been taken from it.” Confirmation occurred to her even as she spoke. “There couldn't be,” she added, “without a stamping-mill, and my great-uncle refused to buy one.” Her arguments carried no weight with him; he regarded her with all his old steadiness. “Plenty gold taken,” he said. Betty burst out, more incredulously even than had Natalie: “Plenty of gold from a low-grade claim without a stamp-mill! Who told you” Johnnie Bill said, speaking to Natalie. “I know:” She had never known him exaggerate; she had never know him lie. And now there was a gravity and sense of responsibility in his voice that carried conviction. “Tell me how you know, Krispamsis,” she said quietly. The Indian turned to the window and made a slight gesture in the direction of the claim. “Kit Champneys,” he said. “He showed you the rock that was burnt by fire?” She started. For the time being she had’ forgotten Kit’s agitation at the sight of the ‘sacrificial stone’ and his subsequent insistence upon a search of the shack. “Yes,” she said slowly. “What of it?” “Furnace there once,” Jphnnie Bill said calmly, “to ,‘baje’ high-grade.” Now it was Betty who spoke, and it was noticeable that her incredulity had not lessened with the announcement. ‘‘But it’s a low-grade claim, you poor mutt,” she protested unbelievingly. For the first time Johnnie Bill spoke to her directly. “Now,” he said . gravely. “Not then. Surface seam,” he explained. “Petered out.” Betty's reaction was emphatic. She looked with an expression in which illumination battled with the old incredulity, first at Johnnie Bill and then at Natalie. “Suffering' cats!” she exclaimed at last. “Even old Hailstone never thought of that!” She hesitated, and then added, in fairness: “But I don’t see why he should. There’s no indications now, anyway, and old Barraclough always kept the claim so mighty dark there was nothing to go by. Except, of course,” she added, “that he did keep it dark. Knowing him and his ways it’s a wonder no one’s got on to it.” She looked up. “I take that back about you being a mutt,” Johnnie Bill. Was it a very rich seam?” she went on to ask. The Indian dived into the depths of his trouser pockets and produced a piece of quartz, cinnamon coloured and porus, which he handed her for inspection.

“This is a piece of high-grade?” Betty asked as she took it, and when he nodded acquiescence broke into a low whistle of astonishment. “Some' high-grade!” she exclaimed, and leaning forward showed it to Natalie.’ Ignorant as she was of all that had to do with mines and mining even she could see, ingrained like yellow dust into the stone, the “visible” gold that is the prospector’s dream. “Fifteen hundred dollars to the ton if it’s an ounce,” Betty pronounced. “Say, was it all like this?” “All,” he said simply.