The Great Oakdale Mystery Read online

  CHAPTER I.

  THE HUNTERS.

  Two boys, each carrying a gun, came out of a strip of woods and paused.They were followed by a short-haired pointer dog. One of the boys, whosegun was a single-barreled repeater, bore a game-bag suspended from hisshoulder by a strap, and he spoke to the dog with an air of authoritythat proclaimed him the animal’s master. He was a pleasant-faced,blue-eyed chap, and his name was Fred Sage.

  The gun of the other boy was a double-barreled hammerless. The boy had aslightly undershot jaw, and his eyes were a trifle too small. This wasRoy Hooker. During the months of the past summer these two fellows hadbecome exceedingly friendly.

  “There are the Hopkins woodcock covers down yonder, Fred,” said Roy,pointing across the open strip of pasture land. “Old Hopkins doesn’tlike to have anyone gun there, but I’m for giving those covers a try, aslong as he will probably never know it.”

  “Has he posted ‘No Trespass’ signs?” asked Sage.

  “Guess not; I haven’t seen any. He doesn’t do any shooting himself, butbeing a cranky old bear, he doesn’t like to have anyone else gun on hisproperty.”

  “Well, as long as there are no warnings posted and he hasn’t personallynotified us to keep off, we’ll see if we can find any birds there. Thecovers look attractive to me. Here, Spot; heel, sir.”

  With the first indication that the boys intended to proceed, the eagerdog had started forward, but he turned at the command of his master andonce more fell in behind.

  The forenoon of this clear, sunny autumn day was not far advanced, theyoung hunters having set forth shortly after breakfast. Although the airwas clear and almost warm, there was a certain suggestion of crispnessin it, which, together with the flaming leaves of the deciduous trees,plainly betokened that the early autumn frosts had been at work. Thestubble of the open pasture land was brown and dry. Behind the boys, inthe woods they had just left, squirrels were chattering and bluejaysscreaming, but Fred and Roy were after bigger and more legitimate game.Thus far their hunt had proved disappointing.

  “If we don’t find anything down yonder,” said Hooker, “I’ll get mad andshoot the next squirrel that barks at me. I was tempted to pop over onebig gray fellow that leered at me from a limb.”

  “You don’t eat squirrels, do you?”

  “Oh, no.”

  “What would you do with them if you should shoot ’em?”

  “Nothing; just throw them away.”

  “Then don’t shoot them, Roy. It’s not good sport to kill practicallyharmless creatures simply for the sake of killing something. I’d rathernever shoot anything at all than do that.”

  “Oh, you’re deucedly finicky about some things, old fellow. You won’thave many chances to gun this fall, for football is going to keep youbusy. When I proposed it last night I hardly thought I’d get you outto-day.”

  “And I came out with the understanding that we are to get back in timefor practice this afternoon. Next Saturday, a week from to-day, the teamplays its first game.”

  “And will be beautifully beaten,” prophesied Hooker.

  “What makes you think so?”

  “Why shouldn’t I think so? The eleven is going to be weak this year.With Roger Eliot for captain, it made an unexpected success last fall;but Eliot is gone, and Stone, who was chosen to follow him as captain,never can be such a crafty, far-sighted general. The team was weakenedfifty per cent by the loss of Eliot.”

  “Perhaps you’re right,” admitted Sage; “but you seem to forget that weought to receive some strength from the development of new players. Forinstance, there’s that fellow from Texas, Rodney Grant——”

  “Oh, yes,” nodded Roy quickly, “I suppose he’ll help some, but it takestime to make a football player, and Grant has had little experience atthe game. Stone realizes he’s going to be shy of material, and he’scoaxing everybody to come out for practice. He’s been at me.”

  “You’re going to come out, aren’t you?”

  “I don’t know. Never did care a great deal about football. You know it’smy ambition to be a baseball pitcher, and a fellow can’t do everything.”

  “Baseball is over now, and there’ll be no more until next spring. Forthe good of the team you ought to take hold and do your best to become aplayer and fill one of the weak spots.”

  “And maybe get a broken leg or arm or collar-bone to set me back. Abaseball player is taking chances when he goes in for football.”

  “But if none of our ball players went in for football,” reminded Sage,“we’d have no eleven. Our school isn’t big enough for the two teams tobe made up of distinct and independent bodies of players. You’re quick,active and strong, Roy, and, if you choose to take hold and work hard,it seems to me you might become one of the valuable members of theeleven.”

  “Oh, possibly,” admitted Hooker, attempting to conceal the fact that hewas somewhat flattered. “I fancy I could do as well as some otherfellows, Piper, Cooper or Tuttle, for instance. In a way they are meremakeshifts; none of them is a bang-up good football man.”

  By this time they had crossed the pasture land and reached the edge ofthe covers, the dog betraying a restless desire to get to work. Sagepermitted the animal to go forward, directing his movements now and thenby a word of command, and, with the guns held ready for quick use, theyoung hunters advanced slowly, keeping their eyes on the pointer themost of the time. They separated somewhat and went forward with the dogat the apex of an imaginary triangle. Nearly all the time the boys couldsee each other through the scrub growth, which made it unlikely thateither would place his friend in danger by careless shooting.

  Moving hither and thither, sniffing, pausing, advancing, every huntinginstinct alert, the dog did his work beautifully. Suddenly, with onefoot uplifted, tail horizontal and rigid and muzzle thrust forward, thepointer became a statue of stone. Directly ahead of him, a few feetaway, was a thick cluster of low bushes.

  “Point, Roy—point!” called Sage softly, his repeater held in both handsand half lifted, ready for a quick shot.

  Immediately Hooker swerved toward the dog and advanced as swiftly andnoiselessly as possible, in order to obtain a position for a shot whenthe bird should flush. Reaching a favorable spot, he placed himself inposition to shoot and waited for the rise.

  The seconds passed slowly—so slowly that to the anxious boys they seemedmore like minutes. A chickadee flitted through the bushes, lighted on abranch within five feet of Roy, performed some surprising horizontal barevolutions and applauded himself in a ludicrously hoarse voice.Something rustled at a distance, like a creature running swiftly alongthe ground. Far away, so far that it was but faintly heard, the gun ofsome other hunter spoke.

  With a sudden whirr of wings a woodcock rose straight up from thefurther side of the cluster of bushes. The butt of Sage’s gun came tohis shoulder, his eye caught the sights, and he fired.

  Hooker was a trifle slower, but ere Sage, realizing that he had shot tooquickly and therefore made a miss, could fire again, Roy’s weapon spoke.

  Down came the bird into the midst of the thicket.

  “Good work, old man,” cried Fred approvingly. “You got him. I shotunder; didn’t wait for him to make his full rise. Go fetch, Spot.”

  The dog, released from the spell that had chained him motionless,plunged forward, sniffing around in search of the bird. In a few momentshe brought the dead woodcock and placed it at his master’s feet.

  “A plump fellow,” laughed Sage, holding the kill up for the other lad tosee. “That’s the first blood for you, Roy. Shall I put it in my bag?”

  “Sure; I haven’t any. There’s likely more of them near by.”

  There were more, and Sage evened things up by bringing down the nextone. After this both boys missed a shot, and, though they had tried to“mark” their birds when they lighted, they beat back and forth for morethan half an hour without getting another flush.

  “Come on,” s
aid Roy at last; “I’m tired of this. There’s some goodpartridge timber near by, and I’d rather shoot one partridge than half adozen woodcock.”

  “Every fellow to his taste,” laughed Sage. “I prefer the sport ofwoodcock shooting, and I certainly hate to leave without getting eitherof those two birds up again.”

  He yielded, however, to Hooker’s urging, and they left the low coversfor the adjacent timber, in which partridges might be found.

  The partridges were there, too. Roy put one up almost beneath his feet,but the timber was so thick at that point that he could not get even achance shot with the slightest hope of success. While he was grumblingover this, Spot made a point and the partridge rose with a booming ofwings before Sage could give his companion warning.

  Fred fired.

  “Did you get her?” called Hooker.

  “I think I hit her,” was the answer. “I saw her go down. Come, Spot, wemust dig that bird out.”

  Hooker started to follow, but had not advanced thirty feet before stillanother partridge rose and went sailing away in another direction. Thistime Roy fired, but he did so under such a disadvantage and with so muchhaste that he had little hope of bringing down the game.

  “Confound it!” he muttered. “Are all these birds going to get away?”

  For a full minute he stood still in his tracks, peering into the woodson all sides and listening keenly. Then he removed the empty shell fromhis gun and slipped a loaded one into place.

  “I’m going to follow that old bird I banged at,” he decided. “I don’tbelieve she went beyond the road that runs through these woods. If I canget her without the assistance of the dog, it will be a trick worthturning.”

  Having hurried after the partridge until he fancied he had reached apoint where the bird might have alighted, he began creeping forward withthe utmost caution, pausing every few yards to listen and use his eyes.Once an acorn, clipping down through the leaves and striking the ground,gave him a start, but it seemed that the partridge had flown fartherthan he thought, for presently, without again sighting the game, heapproached the road. A short distance from the highway he stopped in histracks and flung the gun to his shoulder, the barrel levelled towardsome roadside bushes, near which he had heard a slight noise.

  Beyond the bushes a man rose into view from a stone on which he had beenseated, and found himself looking straight into the muzzle of Hooker’sgun.