THE RANGER BOYS OUTWIT THE TIMBER THIEVES

By CLAUDE A. LABELLE

Author of “The Ranger Boys to the Rescue,” “The Ranger Boys Find the Hermit,” “The Ranger Boys and the Border Smugglers,” “The Ranger Boys and Their Reward.”

A. L. BURT COMPANY Publishers New York

THE RANGER BOYS SERIES

A Series of Stories for Boys 12 to 16 Years of Age

By CLAUDE A. LABELLE

The Ranger Boys to the Rescue

The Ranger Boys Find the Hermit

The Ranger Boys and the Border Smugglers

The Ranger Boys Outwit the Timber Thieves

The Ranger Boys and Their Reward

Copyright, 1922 By A. L. BURT COMPANY

Made in “U. S. A.”

THE RANGER BOYS OUTWIT THE TIMBER THIEVES.

CHAPTER ITHE START OF NEW ADVENTURES

“Bangor, Bangor, all change for Portland, Boston and way stations,” shouted the trainman.

“Here we are, boys,” shouted Garry Boone. “Wake up, Dick, let’s get our packs and rifles. We will be in the station in a few seconds now. My, but I’ll be glad to see Dad again. And he promises us some real action, too. I wonder what trouble he is in. You remember he hinted at something of the sort in the letter that he wrote us at Hobart.”

“Well, we’ll know in a few minutes now, for your father will be waiting for us at the Bangor House. Don’t fret over what he wants, Garry, just be glad that we have a chance to get into action of some kind. These past few weeks have gotten me so that I am not happy if we don’t have a few scrapes to get in and out of,” remarked the second of the trio of boys.

Dick Wallace, a plump, heavyset chap, yawned and rubbed the sleep from his eyes, and then got up and stretched his cramped limbs. He had been napping for more than an hour.

At that moment the train drew into the station with a screeching of brakes, and the boys, having dug out their knapsacks and rifles from between the seats where they had stowed them, soon were off the train and walking briskly toward the Bangor House.

“Why not take a car, there ought to be one along in a minute or two,” half grumbled Dick. It must be explained that Dick, because of his weight, took the easiest method of doing anything whenever possible.

This does not mean that he ever shirked his duty, or that he was incapable of walking whenever he had to. As a matter of fact, he had made long hikes in the woods without ever batting an eyelash, but he believed in doing such things only when they were necessary.

“Trust Dick to want a street car and something to eat the minute he gets to a city,” laughed Garry.

“Yes, I bet he is starving right now,” jibed Phil Durant. “All he has had to eat since lunchtime is an apple, three bananas, and I don’t know how many bags of peanuts. If the train boy hadn’t made a sale all the afternoon except to Dick he would have made a day’s pay anyway.”

“That reminds me that it is almost supper time now,” said Dick. He had heard his chums rag him so many times about his appetite, that their remarks rolled off him as does water off a duck’s back. “I move we postpone hearing what Dad Boone has to tell us until after we have eaten. Then he can tell us what he wants, and after that perhaps we can all go to a movie show.”

There was no car in sight, so they continued their walk, and soon were at the doors of the Bangor House, a large, well-appointed hotel. The boys cut a strange figure as they walked through the lobby, for they were clad in broad brimmed Stetson army hats, khaki coats cut like hunters’ jackets, with big roomy pockets, and khaki trousers stuffed into the tops of shoepacks, which are nothing more than heavy moccasins with an extra leather sole.

Each boy carried a knapsack on his back, and attached to this was a lariat. In addition, a stout forest hatchet was thrust through the belt that girdled them, and each boy carried a rifle.

Many curious looks were cast in their direction as they walked to the desk where Garry asked if Mr. Boone was registered there.

In a few moments the clerk had telephoned up to Garry’s father and immediately was told to send the boys up. Following in the wake of the bell boy they ascended to the room, where Mr. Boone was waiting.

He greeted the boys heartily and commented on their healthy appearance, for the sun and open air had made them as tanned as any woodsman.

Greetings over, Mr. Boone remarked:

“Before I tell you boys why I have sent for you, I suggest that we get our dinner and then come back to the room.”

“Welcome words!” uttered Dick enthusiastically.

“I thought that would about hit the spot with you, Dick,” laughed Mr. Boone.

“Yes,” said Garry, “he is starving to death; he hasn’t had anything to eat for nearly an hour and a half.”

Leading the way, Mr. Boone headed the boys toward the dining room, while they unanimously ordered a fine steak, and soon were busily eating.

As they eat, let us look them over and get acquainted with them. Those of our readers who have read the three volumes preceding this one, “The Ranger Boys to the Rescue,” “The Ranger Boys Find the Hermit,” and “The Ranger Boys and the Border Smugglers,” already know our heroes. Others must be introduced.

The leader of the trio is Garfield Boone. He is generally known as Garry. The stout boy with the long distance appetite is Dick Wallace, close friend of Garry, and ward of Mr. Boone. The third is Phil Durant, a boy of French Canadian parentage. The three boys live in a small Maine town, only a few miles from Portland, the principal city of the Pine Tree State, as our northernmost commonwealth is known.

They have just completed their junior year in high school, and it has been decided that Garry and Dick shall go to a military school the coming fall, while Phil will have to remain and finish at the high school.

Hence they wanted to spend their last vacation together, and had picked on the idea of taking a camping trip to the woods. Mr. Boone, father of Garry, who owned extensive lumber tracts in the Maine woods and was connected with some of the big paper mills of the state, came to bat with an idea that pleased the boys immensely.

It was to this effect. That instead of going on a mere camping trip which might prove to be tiresome before it was concluded, that the boys become attached to the Forest Ranger Service as an extraordinary Unit of this woodcraft outfit.

Their duties would be the same as those of the older Rangers; that is, to guard the forests from the fire peril that constantly menaced the timber lands of the state. In this service there were two branches, the men who act as lookouts, having an unchanged station, and the patrol men who travel over a certain set course watching that fire does not start and keeping careless campers from starting fires in dangerous spots.

In a few days the boys had outfitted themselves and were on their way to their first station on the Sourdehunq Mountain, a tract of timberland owned by Mr. Boone. They had no thought of any adventure other than that which might be caused by the discovery of a fire, but on their second night on the trail they find the guide they had hired, one Jean LeBlanc, a French Canadian halfbreed, trying to steal their supplies.

They drive him away, and later find the halfbreed is inimical to them because of a fancied grievance he has against the elder Boone. They also make a staunch friend in the person of Nate Webster, an old Maine guide. Later Webster replaces the Deputy Ranger, Anderson by name, who has proved incompetent, and Anderson joins forces with LeBlanc and becomes an enemy of the Ranger Boys, and nearly succeeds in doing them great harm.

Another friend is made in the person of an old hermit, who on several occasions warns the boys of impending peril by sending them cryptic notes.

On one occasion Jean LeBlanc kidnaps the little daughter of a family by the name of Graham, who are camping in the woods. With the aid of a note from the hermit, the boys are able to rescue her and capture LeBlanc. The latter, however, escapes and makes much trouble for the boys, finally setting fire to the woods.

He and Anderson escape by climbing a sheer cliff. Still later the boys are asked by the Customs Secret Service to get evidence of a gang of smugglers on the Canadian border. This they do and the gang is seized, all except LeBlanc who dodges back across the boundary and is hence safe from arrest since he is on Canadian territory and not amenable to the United States law.

During a rainy season, they seek out the hermit and find him; that is, Dick finds him. One of their greatest adventures during the search for the gang of border smugglers is the finding, with the aid of an old map, of a tourmaline mine. The boys get a deed to the mineral rights of the land, and plan at a later date to mine the gems and make a handsome income for themselves.

It must also be explained that there is a mystery connected with Dick. His father was a college professor of geology and botany, and a classmate of Mr. Boone. He had a fall from a horse that destroyed his memory, and before an operation could be performed, disappeared. Dick’s mother had died when he was a baby, and so being without parents or home, Mr. Boone had become his guardian, bringing him up with his own son, Garry.

Now that we have a brief sketch of the boys and their previous activities, let us see what Mr. Boone’s need of them is.

“Here is the whole story, boys,” said Mr. Boone as they finished their dinner and returned to his room. “As you know, I have extensive interests not only in the timberland but in the mills that manufacture paper. Recently I severed connections with several of the mills, and put all my eggs in one basket, so to speak, by investing my funds all in one mill. Of course it is impossible to do business on a big scale without making many business enemies, or at least determined rivals. I have a good many such, and I have been given to understand that several of them have pooled their resources and become connected with the mills from which I withdrew my money.

“Of course I have not enough work in my one mill to take care of all the timber that I can cut, so I contract to supply other mills, necessarily becoming a rival of some of the other timber owners.

“Then, too, I have recently decided to start an experiment in summer lumbering. You know, of course, that Maine’s lumber cutting season has always been in the winter because the logs could be cut and hauled over the snow to the rivers and then when the spring unleashed the ice-bound rivers, the logs could be driven down to the mills. However, I am figuring on getting out lumber for building during the summer and in the winter getting the logs for the pulp mills to grind ready for the making of paper. I have several important contracts with a time limit; that is, the necessary amount of lumber must be gotten out by a certain date else I forfeit my profit and large damages besides.

“Lately I have seen from my reports that the lumber is not being gotten out on schedule time. Whenever I come and look it over, or send a representative, everything goes like clockwork, but the moment that I turn my back a saw breaks, making a week’s delay, or a tractor is broken, or something else happens. Unfortunately my financial affairs at the present time are in such shape that I must devote the greater part of my time to keeping the wheels going. This necessitates my being much of the time in Boston and New York, hence I cannot be at the cutting operations all the time.

“I have changed managers, but still no good comes of it. Now I am confident that the morale of my camp is being undermined by some business rivals, and that there is underground work of some sort going on. Since your success in getting that gang of smugglers, the complete story of which I have already heard, I believe that you boys can find out what is going on at the camp to hinder my contracts.

“I have thought that you boys might go to the vicinity of the cutting and sawmills and camp there. You would have the freedom of the camp, as I would write the manager who you were, and then you could use your eyes and ears and see what was what.

“I should suggest that you display a great deal of ignorance about lumbering operations and sawmill work, so that your presence would not excite undue suspicion. Further than that I can give you no instructions, for if I knew what the matter was I would not have to call on you for assistance. I am simply relying on you to be able to do as good a job for me as you have done for the Ranger Service and the Customs Department. In other words, you will have to work out your own salvation, and I am sure that you can produce for me the results that I want.”

Mr. Boone concluded his long explanation and then leaned back, letting the matter sink in. Then he asked, “Well, boys, what do you think of the proposition? Are you willing to undertake it? Not that there will be any danger attached, but do you feel yourselves confident of making a success of the venture?”

The eyes of the three boys sparkled. They discounted Mr. Boone’s belief that there would be no danger attached, for they felt that the proposition offered a chance for much excitement, and this was what they wanted. Thrilling adventures were for them the spice of life after what they had experienced that summer. Garry answered for the others. “Will we do it? You bet we will, and we’ll succeed!”

CHAPTER IITO THE RESCUE

After the conclusion of their talk with Mr. Boone, the boys went out to take in a motion picture show, after finding there would be time to see the last performance.

On the way to the theatre, they stopped for a moment to watch a street fakir selling knives under the flaring light of a gasoline torch.

“Here you are, here’s a fine knife with your name and address inlaid in the handle!” he was shouting.

“I think I’ll get one of those for myself,” said Dick to his chums.

“What do you want of one, you have your good heavy scout knife, haven’t you?” queried Garry.

“Oh, I just want it as a curiosity for use when we come out of the woods; we won’t want to carry a great knife like that in civilian clothes,” replied Dick.

“We’ll miss the first of the show if you wait,” remarked Garry.

“Let the youngster have his way, Garry,” interrupted Phil with a laugh.

The street salesman made the name plate and quickly screwed the transparent handle back on the knife. Dick handed over the money and soon they were on the way to the movies.

They received a fine surprise when they reached there, for the picture being shown was one in which they had taken small parts when they encountered a crew of motion picture actors while they were at their first station in the woods, and when they had some stirring adventures the time Jean LeBlanc set fire to the woods, the motion picture people had been rescued by the boys. The picture was a decidedly good one and they enjoyed it.

The chums chattered during the play in a subdued tone, especially when there flashed on the screen the parts where they were playing roles. The water scene where Dick did some fine swimming was particularly good.

After the picture was over, they edged out through the crowd and returned to the hotel and were about to go up to their rooms when Garry had an idea.

“Say, boys, we are not going on such a secret affair now that we cannot have Sandy with us, so I am going to telegraph Nate and ask if he will bring us the dog tomorrow, or let us know by wire if he cannot.”

Sandy was the big Airedale dog owned by Garry, a canine that possessed almost as much sense as some humans. When they had gone on their mission to the border to capture the smugglers, they had left the dog in Nate’s keeping, as they were afraid that the sight of the dog would bring to mind who they were to any of their enemies, and they had made several in the course of their sojourn in the Maine woods.

To speak was to act with Garry, and he promptly made his way to the desk where the familiar blue lettered lamp was aglow.

The work of writing the message was short and then they went to their rooms, first stopping in to say good night to Mr. Boone, and advising him to see the motion picture the next day so that he could see them in their small parts.

This Mr. Boone promised to do, and soon all were sleeping the sound sleep of healthy boys with never a worry or care.

Morning came, and with it the boys arose and hastened to the dining room to make the most of the brief opportunity that they would have for the excellent hotel fare. They spent a part of the forenoon in overhauling and looking over their radio-phone equipment to see that it was all in perfect condition, for they had a hunch that it would come in very useful when they arrived at the cutting tract. This was to be proven true at a later date.

About ten o’clock they received a wire from Nate saying that he would arrive in Bangor about noon and would bring the Airedale with him. True to his promise in the telegram, the old guide appeared at the hotel shortly after the noon hour set in and with him was Sandy. The boys were seated in some of the arm chairs that dotted the lobby, and in less than a moment the dog had found his friends, and nearly knocked over half a dozen people in his haste and eagerness to reach the trio, for despite the fact that an Airedale is called a one man dog, he distributed his friendship equally among the three chums.

The boys were fully as glad to see their four-footed friend as he was to welcome them, and they cuffed and patted him strenuously.

“Wall, boys, there’s your pup, safe and sound as the day I took charge of him. And let me tell you, he is some dog. Saved me a considerable sum of money tother day, too,” announced Nate.

“Tell us about it,” asked Garry, as the three crowded around the old “State of Mainer” and shook hands with him heartily.

“There ain’t a whole lot to tell, ’cepting that a few days ago I sold a small tract of land that I had to a queer old codger who doesn’t believe in banks, and who paid me in bills. I believe in banks myself, but it was late when I made the deal so I had to stow the money away in the house. I locked it up as well as I could in a small desk in the sitting room, and went on to bed. ’Bout twelve o’clock I heard a tearing around downstairs and Sandy barking fit to raise the dead. I hopped downstairs as soon as I could reach for a rifle that stood in the corner of my bedroom, just in time to see Sandy going through an open window. I chased out after him, but someone was just driving away in an automobile as I got out of the window. Sandy ran the car down the road a piece, but came back beaten and tuckered out. He was fast, but not quite fast enough to catch the car, going at the rate it was. Well, I got back in through the window and looked around. The window had been forced open, and the burglar was just evidently about to force open

the desk, for there were scratches about the lock and a heavy screwdriver was laying on the floor. I figure Sandy heard him from the kitchen, where he generally slept, and came in and drove him off just in time to save my money. So that’s all there is to that, but he is a mighty fine dog, and I hate to let go of him, even to his owner.”

The boys patted Sandy again and again as they listened to Nate’s story.

“Did you find any trace of the robber?” asked Garry.

“Nary a sign except the footprints on the lawn under the window. I figure it must have been someone that knew I got paid for the land that evening, and that I kept a little valuable stuff in the desk, but there is no proof or nothing to work on to determine who it might be. I don’t care anyway, as long as the invader didn’t get my money,” replied Nate.

The boys invited Nate to lunch with them, and this invitation he accepted, and calling Mr. Boone they went into the dining room. In a few moments they were joined by “Moose” Boone and the greeting between the two old friends was pleasant to see.