Jasper County Democrat, Volume 17, Number 95, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 6 March 1915 — November Joe [ARTICLE]

November Joe

The Detective of the Woods By HESKfTH PRICHARD Copyright, 1913, By Hesketh Prichard

SYNOPSIS. James Qoaritch engages November Jee as his guide. Joe and he go to Big Tree portage to investigate the murder of a trapper named Lyon. Joe decides that the murderer followed Lyon to his camp and shot him from a canoe. ’ By studying woodland evidence and making clever deductions Joe discovers the murderer, Highapison. Lumberman Cose reports that Blackmask, a highifcaEznan, is robbing his men. Six lumberjacks are robbed by the same man. Joe makes a careful examination of the scene of the robbery. Close is accused by his men, but Joe arrests Chris, one of the lumberjacks, the real robber. Sally Rone, a widow, has been roooee of valuable pelts. Joe and Evans, a gams warden, search for the thief. Sally's lover, Vai Black, is suspected, but Joe catches the actual culprit, In jin Sylvester. Millionaire Planx’s daughter Virginia has been abducted. The abductors demand $150,000 ransom for Virginia. Joe’s investigations indicate that one Hank Harper has abducted the girl.

Joe ascertains that Virginia had herself abducted to get the ransom for her lover. Joe goes after Cecil Atterson, who has stolen $160,000. Joe discovers that the robber has been robbed by his sweetheart, I’hedre Pointarre, and compels her to give up the money.. , John Stafford has robbed of valuable black foxes. Joe finds that an Aleut employed by Stafford was in league with the thieves. Joe traces the crime to one Jurgensen and recovers the foxes. Linda Petersham gets Joe to investigate a shooting at Kalwrimtal : - CHAPTER XIII. Linda Petersham. NOVEMBER JOE had bidden me farewell at the little siding known by the picturesque name of Silent Water.

“ ’Spect you’ll be back again. Mr. Quaritch. as soon as you’ve fixed them new mining contracts, and then, maybe, we’ll try a wolf hunt. There’s a tidy pack comes ent on the Lac Noir ice when ft’s moonlight.” But the shackles of business are not so easily shaken off. and the spring had already come before another vacation in the woods had begun to merge into possibility. About this time Linda Petersham rang me up on the telephone and demanded my presence at lunch. “But I am engaged.” said I. “What is it?’ - “I will tell you when you come. I want you.” ; I made another effort to explain my position, but Linda had said her last word and rung off. I smiled as I called up the picture of a small Greek head crowned with golden hair, a pair of dark blue eyes and a mouth wearing a rather imperious expression. The end of it was that I went, for I have known Linda all her life. The Petersham family consists of Linda and her father, and. though in business relations Mr. Petersham* is a power to be reckoned with, at hotne he exists for the sole apparent purpose of carrying out his charming ij&ughter’s wishes. It is a delightful house to go to, for they are the happiest people 1 know. I found myself the only guest, which surprised me, for the Petersham mansion has a reputation for hospitality. “James, I want you to do this for me. I want you to persuade pop not to do something." 1 persuade him? You don’t need me for that—you, who can make him do or not do anything, just as you wish!”

“I thought I could, but I find I can’t ’ “How is that?’ “Well, he Is set on going back to Kalmacks.” “Kalmacks? 1 know it is the place Julius Fischer built up in the mountains. He used to go shooting and fishing there.” “That is it It’s a place you’d love—lots of good rooms and standing way back on a mountain slope, with miles of view and a stream tumbling past the very door. Father bought it last year and with it all the sporting rights Julius Fischer claimed. The woods are full of moose, and there are beaver and otter, and that’s where the trouble came in.”

“But Fischer had trouble from the day he went up to shoot at Kalmacks. He had to run for it, so I was told. Didn’t your father know that? Why did Mr. Petersham have anything to do with the place?” “Ob, It was just one of pop’s notions, I suppose,” said Linda, with the rather weary tolerance of the modern daughter. “They are a dangerous lot round there.” “He knew that. They are squatters

—trappers who liave squatted' among those woods and hills for generations. Of course they think the country belongs to them. Pop kuew that, and in his opinion the compensation Julius Fischer offered-and gave them was inadequate.” ' “It would be,” I commented. I could without effort imagine Julius Fischer's views on compensation, for I had met him in business.

“Well, father went into the matter, and he found that the squatters had a good deal to be said for their side of the case, so that he did what he thought was fair by them. He paid them good high prices for their rights, or what they considered to be their rights, for in law, of course, they possessed none. Every one seemed pleased and satisfied, and we were looking forward to going there this spring for the fishing when news came that one of father’s game wardens had been shot at” “Shot at?” Linda nodded the Greek head I admired so much.

“Yes. Last autumn father put on a couple of wardens to look after the game, and they have been there all winter. From their reports they have got on quite well with the squatters, and now suddenly, for no reason that they can guess, one of them, William Worke by name, has been fired upon in his camp.” “Killed?” I asked.

“No, but badly wounded. He said he was sure the bullet could have been put into his heart just as easily, but it was sent through his knee by way of a notice to quit, he thinks.” “Those folks up there must be half savages.” “They are, but that’s not all. Three days ago a letter came, meant for father, but addressed to me. Whoever wrote it must have seen father and knew that he was not the kind of man who could be readily frightened, so they thought they would get at him through me. It was a horrible letter.” The words were written upon a sheet torn from an old account book. They ran as follows: You, Petersham, you mean skunk! Don’t you come in our Wods unles yor willing to pay five thousand dollars. Bring the goods and youl be told wher to put it, so it will come into the hands of riters. Dollars ain’t nothin to you, but they can keep an expanding bulet out yor hide. ,“Do you think it is a hoax?” «

“Well, no. I can't honestly say I do.” “Which means, in plain language, that if father does not pay up that $5,000 he will be shot.”

“Not necessarily. He need not go up to Kalmacks this fall.”

“But of course he will go! He’s more set on going than ever. You know father when he’s dealing with men. And he persists in his opinion that the letter is probably only bluff.” I considered for a little before I spoke. “Linda, have you really sent for me to try to persuade your father that it would be wiser for him not to go to Kalmacks?”

Linda’s lip curled scornfully. “I should not put it just like that! I can imagine father’s answer if you did. I’m afraid it will be no good letting you say anything you don’t know how.” “You mean that I have no tact?”

She smiled at me. and I instantly forgave her. “Well, perhaps I do, but you know it is far better to be able to give help than just to talk about it Father is determined on going to Kalmacks, and I want you to come with us.” “Us?’ I cried. “Naturally, I’m going.”

i “But it is absurd! Your father would never allow it!” “He can’t prevent it, dear James,” she said softly. “I don’t for a moment that even the Kalmacks people would attack a woman. And father is all that I have in the world. I’m going.” “Then 1 suppose I shall have to go ■too. But tell me what purpose does iyour father think he will serve by undertaking this very rftky expedition?” I “He believes that the general feeling .up at Kalmacks is in his favor, and the shooting of the warden as well as the writing of this letter is the work of a small band of individuals who wish to blackmail him. We will be quite a strong party, and he hopes 0 discover who is threatening him. By the way, didn’t I hear from Sir Andrew McLerrick that you had been in the woods all these last falls with a wonderful guide who could read trails like Uncas, the last of the Delawares, or one of those old trappers one reads •of in Fenimore Cooper’s novels?” “That’s true.” “What is his name?” “November Joe.” “November Joe,” she repeated. “I visualize him at once. A wintry lookling old man, with gray goatee and piercing eyes.” I burst out laughing. “It’s extraordinary you should hit; him off so welL” “He must come too." she commanded.

On Friday I got Joe, who arranged to meet us at Prlamvllle, the nearest point on the railway to those mountains in the heart of which the estate of Kalmacks was situated. I myself arranged to accompany the Petershams.

Into the story of our journey to Priamville I need not go, but will pick up the sequence of events at the moment of our arrival at that enterprising town, when Linda, looking from the car window, suddenly exclaimed: “Look at that magnificent young man!” **Which one?” I asked innocently as I caught sight of November’s tall figure awaiting us. “How many men in sight answer my description?” she.retorted. “Of course I mean the woodsman. Why, he’s coming this way. I must speak to him.” Before I could answer she had jumped Mghtly to the platform and, turning

to Joe with a childlike expression in her blue eyes, said: "Oh, can you tell me how many minutes this train stops here?” “It don’t generally stop here at all, but they flagged her because they’re expecting passengers. Can help you any, miss?” - “It’s very kind of you.”

At this moment I appeared from the car. “Hello, Joe!” said I. “How are things?” “All right, Mr. Quaritch. There’s two slick buckboards with a pair of horses to each waiting and a wagonette fit for the king o’ Russia. The road between this and the mountains is flooded by beaver working in a backwater ’bout ten miles out. They say we can drive through ali right. Miss Petersham needn’t fear getting too wet”

“How do you know my name?” exclaimed Linda.

“I heard you described, miss,” replied Joe gravely. ' Linda looked at me. “Good for the old mossback!” said I.

Her lips bent Into a sudden smile. “You must be Mr. November Joe. I have heard so much of you from Mr. Quaritch." We went out and loaded our baggage upon the waiting buckboards. One of these was driven by a small, sallow faced man, who turned out to be the second game warden, Puttick.

Mr. Petersham asked how Bill Worke, the wounded man, was progressing. “He’s coming along pretty tidy, Mr. Petersham, but he’ll carry a stiff leg with him all his life.”

“I’m sorry for that. I suppose you have found out nothing further as to the identity of the man who fired the shot?”

“Nothing,” said Puttick, “and not likely to. They’re all banded together up there.”

On which cheerful information our little caravan started. At Linda’s wish Joe took the place of the driver of Mr. Petersham’s light Imported wagonette, and as we went along she gave him a very clear story of the sequence of events, to all of which he listened' with tlie characteristic series of “Well, nows’” and “You don’t says!” with which he was in the habit of punctuating the remarks of a lady. He said them, as usual, in a voice which not only emphasized the facts at exactly the right places, but also lent an air of subtle compliment to the eloquence of the narrator.

.When we stopped near a patch of pine trees to partake of an impromptu lunch it was his quick hands that prepared the campfire and his skilled ax that fashioned the rude but comfortable seats. It was he also who disappeared for a moment to return with three half pound trout that he had taken by some swift process of his own from the brook, of which we only heard the murmur. And for all these doings he received an amount of open admiration from Linda’s blue eyes which seemed to me almost exaggerated. “I think your November Joe is a perfect dear,” she confided to me. “If you really think that,” said I, “have mercy on him! You do not want to add his scalp to all the others.” “Many of the others are bald,” said she. “His hair would furnish a dozen of themP’ v (TO BE CONTINUED )