Jasper County Democrat, Volume 17, Number 96, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 10 March 1915 — November Joe [ARTICLE+ILLUSTRATION]

November Joe

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

SYNOPSIS. James Quaritch engages November Joe 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, Highamson. Lumberman Close reports that Blackmask, a hlghWoytnan, 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. Q Sally Rone, a widow, has been ronneo of valuable pelts. Joe and Evans, a game warden, search for the thief. Sally’s lover, Vai Black, is suspected, but Joe catches the actual culprit, Injin 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 SIOO,OOO. Joe discovers that the robber has been robbed by his sweetheart, Phedre Pointarre, and compels her to give up the money. John Stafford has been robbed of val< uable 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 Kalmucks.

CHAPTER XIV. Men of the Mountains. SO the afternoon passed away, and as it became late we entered great tracts of gloomy pine woods. A wind which had risen with the evening moaned through their tops and flung the dark waters of innumerable little lakes against their moss bordered shores. I noticed that Puttick unslung his rifle and laid it among the packs upon the buckboard beside him. and whenever the road dipped to a more than usually somber defile his eyes, quick and restless as those of some forest animal, darted and peered into the shadows. The light of the sun was fading when there occurred the one incident of our journey. It was not of real importance, but I think it made an impression on all of us. The pad along which we were driving came suddenly out into an open space, and here in front of a shack of the roughest description a man was engaged in cutting logs. As we passed he glanced up at us, and his face was like that of some medieval prisoner—a tangle of wild beard, a mass of grayish hair and among it all a pair of eyes which seemed to glare forth hatred. There was something ominous about the wolfish face.

It was already dark when we arrived at the house, a long, low building of surprising spaciousness, set literally among the pines, the fragrant branches of which tapped and rustled upon the •Windows, 5 We went , in, and while dinner was preparing Mr. Petersham, Joe and I went to the room where the wounded game warden, Worke, lay upon a bed smoking a pipe with a candle sputtering op a.chair.beside him. “Yes, Mr. Petersham?’ said he in answer to a question. “When you went away last fall I did think things was settling down a bit, but a week ago while Puttick was on the eastern boundary I thought I’d go up to Senlis lake, where last year Keoghan had the brook netted. I was making a fire to boil my kettle when a shot was fired from the rocks up above, and the next I knew was that I was hit pretty bad through this knee. “It was coming on dark, and I rolled into a bush for cover, but whoever it were didn’t fire at me again. I don’t think he wanted to kill me. If he had he could have put the bullet into my heart just as easy as in my leg. I tied up the wound the best way I could. Lucky the bullet hadn’t touched any big artery. Next morning I crawled up the hill and lit signal smokes till Puttick came. He brought me in here.” “I suppose Puttick had a look round for the tracks of the fella who gunned you?” asked November. “He did, but he didn’t find out nothing. There was a light shower between dark and dawn, and the ground on the hill above there is mostly rock.”

Such, then, was the story of our coming to Kalmucks, and for the next two or three days we. spent our time fishing in the streams, the only move in the direction of the main object of our visit being that Joe, whom Linda insisted, unon accomnanving walked

over to Senlis lake and had a look at the scene of Worke’s accident. The old tracks, of course, were long since washed away, and I thought. with the others, that Joe’s visit had been fruitless until he showed me the shell of an exploded cartridge. “The bullet which went through Bill Workers leg caine out of that. I found it on the hill above. It’s a 45.75 central fire rifle, an old ’76 model.”

“This is a great discovery you and Miss Petersham have made.” Joe smiled. “There’s nothing much to it, anyway. She lost her brooch somewhere by the lake and was lookin’ for it when I found this.” Joe indicated the exploded shell. “The moun-tains-is full of 45.75 guns, 1876 pattern. Some years back a big ironmongery store down here went bust and threw a fine stock of them caliber rifles on the market A few dollars would buy one, so there’s one in pretty nigh every house and two and three in some. Howsoever, it may be useful to know that him that shot Bill Worke carried that kind o’ a rifle. Still, we’d best keep it to ourselves, Mr. Quaritch.” “All right” said I. "By .the way, there’s a side to the situation I <mh£t understand. We’ve been here fourmays, and nothing has happened. I mean Mr. Petersham has had no word of where to put the $5,000 blackmail these criminals are demanding of him.”

“Maybe there’s a reason for that” “I can’t think of any.” “What about the sand?” “The .sand?” I repeated. “Yes, haven’t you noticed? I got Mr. Petersham to have two loads of sand brought up from the lake and laid all round the house. It takes a track wonderful. I guess it’s pretty near Impossible to come nigh the house without leaving a clear trail. But the first rainy night, I mean when there’s rain enough to wash out tracks.” “They’ll come?” “Yes, they’ll likely come.” But as it happened Joe was wrong. I believe that his reasoning was correct enough, and that it was the fear of leaving such marks as would enable us to gather something of their identity that kept the enemy from pinning upon our door the letter which finally arrived prosaically enough in a cheap store envelope that bore the Priamvllle postmark. The contents of this letter were as follows: Petersham, you go alone to Butler’s cairn 11 o’clock Friday night. Take the dollars along; youl be met their and can hand it over. Below was a rude drawing of a coffin. Petersham read the note out to Joe and myself. “Where’s Butler’s cairn?” he asked. “I know it,” said November. “But-

ler’s cairn is on a hfll about two miles west of here.” “I suppose you won’t go?” said I. “With the money? Certainly not!” “You can hardly go without it” “Why not?” “You would be shot down.” “I’d talk to the ruffians first and then if there was any shooting, I guess I’d be as much in it as they would.” “I suggest that we all three go,” I said. But Joe would have none of this plan. “There’s nothing to be gained by that, Mr. Quaritch. You bet these fellas’ll keep a pretty bright lookout If they saw three of us coming they’d shoot as like as not “I was thinking I might slip right along to Butler’s cairn and maybe get a look at the fellas.” “No!” said Petersham decidedly. “I won’t allow it You say yourself you would be shot" “I said we would get shot, not me alone. Three men can’t go quiet where one can.”’ ■ And so finally it was arranged, though not without a good deal of argument with Petersham. “That’s a fine fellow,” remarked Petersham. j I nodded. “The kind of fellow who fought with and bettered the Iroquois at their own game. I wonder what he will see at Butler’s cairn?” It was past midnight when Joe ap-

peared again. Petersham and I both asked for his news. November shook his head. “I’ve nothing to tell; nothing at all. I didn’t see no one." “Where were you?” “Lying down on top of the cairn itself. There’s good comers to it” “You could see well round, then, and if any one bad come you would not have failed to observe them.” “Couldn’t be too sure. There was some dark times when the moon was shut in by clouds. They might ’a’ come them times, though I don’t think they did. But I’ll know for certain soon unless it comes on heavy rain. There’s a fine little lake they calls Butler’s pond up there. You take your fishpole, Mr. Quaritch, and we’ll go over at sunrise and you try for some of them trout, while I take a scout round for tracks.” This we did, but search as Joe would v he failed to discover any sign at all. He told me this when he joined me at breakfast time. After I had caught a nice string of trout we walked bach to Kalmacks, circling round the house before we entered it The sand lay undisturbed by any strange footstep, but when we got in we found Mr. Petersham in a state of the greatest excitement “One of the blackmailers has had a long talk with Puttick,” he told us. “What?” “Incredible as it sounds, it is so.” “But when was this?” “Early this morning, some time after you and Joe started. This is how it happened. Puttick had just got up and gone down with a tin of rosin and some spare canvas and tin to mend that canoe we ripped on the rock yesterday. In fact, he had only just begun working when he was startled by a voice ordering hjm to hold up his hands.”

“By Jove, what next?” “Why, he held them up. He had no choice. And then a man stepped out from behind the big rock that’s just above where the canoe lies.” “I hope Puttick recognized him.” “No. The fellow had a red handkerchief tied over his nose and mouth. Only his ej’es showed under the brim of a felt hat that was pullet! low down over them. He carried a rifle, that he kept full on Puttick’s chest while they talked. But I’ll call Puttick. He can finish the account of the affair himself. That’s best” Puttick answered to the call, and after running over the story, which was exactly similar to that we had just heard from Petersham, he continued: “The tough had a red hanker tied over his ugly face, nothing but his eyes showing. He had me covered with his gun to rights all the time.” “What kind of a gun was it?” “I didn’t see; leastways I didn’t notice.” “Well, had he anything to say?” “He kep’ me that way a minute before he started speaking. ‘You tell Petersham,’ says he, ‘it’s up to him to pay right away. Tell him unless he goes at once to Butler’s cairn and takes the goods and leaves them there on the big flat stone by the rock he’ll hear from us afore evening, and he'll hear in a way that’ll make him sorry all his life. And as for you, Ben Puttick, you take a hint and advise old man Petersham to buy us off, and he can’t be too quick about doing it either. If he tries to escape we’ll get him on the road down to Priamvllle.’ After he’d done talking he made me put my watch on the canoe—that I’d turned bottom up to get at that rent—and warned me not to move for half an hour. When the half hour was up I come right away and tell you.”

“Tall or short was he?’ “Medium-like.” “Which way did he go when he left you?’ “West; right glong the bank.” “You followed his trail after the half hour was over?” Puttick opened his eyes. “He didn’t leave none.” “Left no trail! How’s that?” cried Petersham. But Joe interposed. “You mean he kep’ to the stones in the bed o' the brook ail the time?* ' “That’s it And, anyway, if I’d got fooling lookin’ for his tracks I’d ’a’ got a bullet in me same as Bill Worke,” ended the little man. “They’re all watching for us.” (TO BE CONTINUED.)

His Face Was Like That of Some Medieval Prisoner.