Connie Morgan with the Mounted/Chapter 12
CHAPTER XII
CONNIE PUTS ONE OVER
For a long time after Ick Far and the boy were asleep the man sat smoking by the fireside. His eyes sparkled with daring and time and again he smiled into the coals. Once or twice he pursed his lips to whistle, but with a glance toward the sleeping forms, grinned instead. As a matter of fact Notorious Bishop had been at his wit's end to know how to proceed. True to the Superintendent's prediction he had avoided the passes and crossed the divide at the head of a steep and almost inaccessible canyon; a proceeding by which he gained the Yukon country unobserved, but which, also, necessitated the abandonment of all his outfit except a very light pack which contained only the barest necessities. Furthermore, he was unfamiliar with the Yukon territory, and knew nothing of the patrols or the stations of the Mounted. He was proceeding, therefore, with the utmost caution. The man was determined to outwit the Mounted, and cross the International Boundary into Alaska. But the details of his bold undertaking had not yet been fully worked out. Therefore, Connie's offer appealed to the man strongly. Not only would it afford a means of transportation but the adventure appealed to him. With the pick of B Division guarding the passes, the interior of the Yukon country was the safest place he could possibly be. And what a chance to put one over on his ancient enemies! To travel through the country as a guest of the Mounted, when from the boundary to the Arctic, and from Hudson Bay to the Pacific, every officer in the service was on the qui vive to effect his arrest!
Notorious Bishop grinned into the camp-fire. At the moment of the boy's offer he had decided to accept it, and it was only to avoid the appearance of eagerness that he delayed his answer until morning. He would play the adventure to the limit and later from some far-off point of safety, would write thanking the Mounted for its hospitality. The man knocked the ashes from his pipe, and as he drew his blanket over him, glanced across the fire at the sleeping boy.
"Ain't you the cock-sure little rookie?" he muttered. "'Sure I'd know him,' he says. Gee whiz! I'd like to whistle Yankee Doodle!"
The next morning the camp was early astir and after breakfast while Connie was rolling his blankets, Notorious Bishop filled his pipe. "D'you say, Constable, that the last boat leaves for Alaska on the fifteenth?"
"Yes," answered the boy. "That's when she's due to leave. She always gets away by the seventeenth."
The man removed his Stetson, and thoughtfully scratched his head as his gaze travelled up and down the river. "Seems like a man can't do no good here," he mused. "You say you got room in your canoe?"
"Sure," answered Connie, "that is, if you don't pack too big an outfit."
Notorious Bishop laughed: "My outfit ain't hardly worth worryin' about. You see I hit the river a piece above here an' throwed together a raft, an' comin' around the bend yonder the raft run plumb square onto a rock. I managed to save my blankets an' one pack-sack an' the river took the rest. It's a lucky thing you happened along. I just about made up my mind I'd have to hunt a tradin' post somewheres."
"You'd have had a long hunt," said Connie. "The nearest trading post is about fifty miles from here, and you'd have had to track-line all the way back."
"All right, Constable," the man replied, "if it ain't going to discommodate you none I believe I'll just go on along with you and try my luck over in Alaska. It can't be no worse than it is here, nohow. I'm sure obliged to you for the lift, an' if anything turns up you'll find I ain't the one to forget it."
With his back to the man, Connie tightened the hitch of his bed-roll, and he grinned as he tugged at the rope. "You said something then, Mr. Notorious Bishop," he muttered to himself. "'Cause something sure is going to turn up and you can bet your boots you won't forget it, either!"
The trip down the McQuesten was uneventful enough. Notorious Bishop proved an actor of unusual ability. He played the part of a prospector so well that Connie himself would have been deceived had it not been for the fact that he had heard him whistle Yankee Doodle. Even with Yankee Doodle the boy was not quite sure of his man. It was possible, after all, that the man was a prospector. For, try as he would, Connie could trace no slightest resemblance between the features of his passenger and those of the photographs on file at headquarters. The chance word dropped by Corporal Rickey that Notorious Bishop was in the habit of whistling Yankee Doodle was the only clue to the man's identity. "'Course any one could whistle Yankee Doodle," thought the boy to himself as the canoe shot down toward the Yukon. "But way up here, somehow, the chances are they wouldn't. Anyway, I'm going to play safe. If he ain't Notorious Bishop, he can easily prove it, and if he is—Gee, won't Dan's eyes stick out! The Sarg said he'd eat me up in two bites. But I guess if he tries it he'll find out he's bit off more than he can chew."
During the days of the journey the man talked freely. His mind was evidently clear of any slightest suspicion that the boy was aware of his identity, and he whiled away the time with accounts of adventures in various parts of the world—adventures that made no mention of police, but included stories of the diamond mines of Africa, the sailing of ships, and the wonders of far Cathay. Connie listened, wide-eyed to the stories, the while he noted that the man asked many guarded questions pertaining to the country—questions that any stranger might ask regarding settlements, trails, telegraph lines, and the customs inspection on boats. And at all times was he loud in his praise of the Mounted, and of their ability to preserve order throughout the vast territory under their jurisdiction. He even asked to be allowed to inspect the headquarters of B Division and to meet the commanding Superintendent. Connie marvelled at the man's audacity and promised to see what he could do toward the granting of his request.
The Stewart River was run without mishap and shortly after the canoe passed into the Yukon, the police launch Aurora, containing a Corporal and a Constable on river patrol, chugged close alongside. For a moment Connie was tempted to enlist the aid of the two officers in conveying his prisoner to Dawson. But at the thought of McKeever's words the boy's hand gripped tight upon his paddle.
"No, siree," he thought. "I've come this far alone, and I'm going to see it through." So when the boat drew alongside the boy merely saluted and joked a bit with the Constable, while Notorious Bishop, with all the assurance in the world, begged a pipe of tobacco from the Corporal. And the launch passed on and left the canoe to continue her way toward Dawson.
That night they camped at the little police post on Indian River where Notorious Bishop played checkers until far into the night with the Constable in charge while Connie looked on and wondered at the man's nerve. Next morning when they set out for Dawson, the Constable accompanied them to the river and waved them good-bye with a cordial invitation to the "prospector" to be sure and stop in whenever he passed that way—an invitation which Notorious Bishop laughingly accepted providing the Constable would brush up his checker game.
The buildings of Dawson were sighted long before sundown and Connie's heart thumped with suppressed excitement as the canoe beached close to the wharf where the Sarah was being loaded for her last trip down the river.
"Guess I'll just go over an' get my ticket while the gettin's good, " said Notorious, as he shouldered his rifle, blankets, and pack-sack. "Come on along, Constable," he invited, "an' I'll go on up to headquarters with you. I'd sure like to see what kind of a layout you've got up here." The man booked passage for Fort Yukon, and Connie accompanied him while he stowed his effects in his tiny cabin. Returning to the wharf they were informed that the boat was due to sail the following day.
"That sure suits me fine," said Notorious. "I've heard a lot about Dawson, an' my friend, the Constable, here, he's promised to show me 'round a bit." Then, turning to the boy. "All right, Constable, just you lead the way an' we'll start on our sight-seein' tour. You be the guide, and I'll pay the freight." He laughed boisterously and Connie noticed that his grey eyes were unusually bright. A sudden fear clutched his heart. Was it possible that in some way he had overplayed his game and that Notorious Bishop knew that he had been recognized? Was the man planning a spectacular dash for liberty? Or was his evident state of suppressed excitement occasioned by the fact that he was soon to be brought face to face with the Superintendent, himself, while the Superintendent's picked men were at that very moment scouring the mountains for him many miles to the westward?
The boy wondered whether the man really had the nerve to visit headquarters. He glanced swiftly into the grey eyes and decided he had. They were almost at the barracks now. Upon the wooden sidewalk of Front Street a couple of officers passed them with a cheery greeting for the boy and a casual glance at his companion. Connie found himself taxed to the utmost to conceal his excitement, and as they entered the barracks side by side the boy fancied the other must certainly hear the thumping of his heart. In the big room two or three men were polishing kits. Connie motioned his companion to a seat and hurried at once toward the office where he found the Superintendent seated behind his fiat-top desk. He looked up as the boy entered and stood at attention.
"What, back already!" the commanding officer smiled as he glanced over the trim figure of his youngest constable. Connie saluted and advanced to the desk.
"Yes, sir," he answered, "here's my report." He extended the paper and as the officer took it he noticed that the small hand trembled.
"What's on your mind, son?" he asked.
"If you please, sir," stammered Connie, "can I report later?"
The Superintendent smiled: "A matter of importance?" he asked.
"Yes, sir," answered Connie, "but there's a man out here that says he wants to see you. Can I bring him in?"
"Who is he? What does he want?"
"Oh, he's—he says he's been prospecting up on the McQuesten. He's heard a lot about the Mounted, and he'd like to visit headquarters."
"All right, show him in," growled the Superintendent, fingering the report, "probably another one of those fellows that want to tell us how to run the country." And the Superintendent wondered whether he had seen a smile on Special Constable Morgan's lips as he hurried from the room.
In the barracks Connie found the prospector seated at the table between two constables. The man was glancing over some photographs which he held in his hand. They were photographs of Notorious Bishop, and the constables were eagerly detailing some of the man's spectacular adventures. The boy advanced toward the group, smiling.
"He's the man I was telling you about."
The prospector nodded: "Seems to be a hard man to gather," he smiled, "if what these lads been tellin' me is true."
"Oh, I don't know," answered Connie, "I bet I could manage him."
And the prospector joined loudly in the laughter which followed.
"The Superintendent says he'll see you now," said Connie, and the man arose and followed toward the office. As the boy stepped aside to allow the other to pass out the door, he motioned swiftly to the two men at the table. The men arose and followed as Connie led the way to the office. The Superintendent glanced up as the prospector approached his desk. Connie saluted, and his right hand closed upon the butt of his service revolver.
"Superintendent," said the boy standing very straight and very alert, "I want to introduce—Notorious Bishop!"
The man whirled like a flash to stare squarely into the ugly black muzzle of the revolver. For just an instant he hesitated as if calculating his chance, and then with a shrug turned again to face the Superintendent who was upon his feet staring incredulously from the man to the boy.
The prospector was the first to speak, and Connie marvelled at the consummate assurance of him as he smiled into the Superintendent's face.
"Kid's kind of had this feller on his mind, I guess, 'til it's turned his head," he said, with a wink.
"Yes," interrupted the boy, "I haven't had much else on my mind for more than a week. But it hasn't turned my head any—not so you could notice it! You thought you had me fooled, didn't you? You thought because I was a boy you could run another one of your whizzers, but you can't get away with it, this time—not with me you can't! We'll just hold you 'til Dan McKeever comes. He knows you, all right."
"McKeever!" cried the man in sudden alarm. "Why he belongs down on—." Suddenly he checked himself, and the Superintendent with a puzzled look motioned the two constables to the man's side. "This is an outrage!" stormed the prospector as he felt his arms seized from behind. "Who is McKeever? An' what's he got to do with it?" For an answer the Superintendent smiled.
"We will let him answer that question for himself," he said. "Constable Morgan, if you will step out, I think you will find Sergeant McKeever in his bunk. He reported in a couple of hours ago for permission to push across into the Mackenzie Basin."
A moment later, Connie was shaking the big Sergeant's shoulder. "Hey, Dan," he called, "wake up!"
"What you want?" growled McKeever, sleepily opening his eyes.
"The Superintendent wants you over at the office to identify an acquaintance of yours."
"Who is it?" growled the Sergeant as he reached for his trousers.
"Oh, just a fellow by the name of Notorious Bishop I picked up about a week ago out in the hills," answered the boy with a great show of nonchalance.
"Notorious Bishop!" cried McKeever, staring into the boy's face. "What do you mean, Notorious Bishop? If Notorious Bishop is in this country he's over on the Mackenzie."
"Is he?" asked the boy with a grin, "you wait and see."
A few moments later, Dan McKeever entered the office and stared wide-eyed into the face of the most wanted man in all Canada.
"Well I'll be—well I'll be doggoned!" he cried. "It's him! It's him, all right! For the love of Mike, kid, how did you do it?" He grabbed Connie by the arm.
"Who me?" grinned Connie, imitating to a nicety the tone in which McKeever had answered the same question, "Oh, I just surrounded him. He ain't hard to handle, if you know how. I just hung around and let him arrest himself, didn't I, Notorious?" And Notorious Bishop who saw that the game was up laughed sheepishly.
"I guess that's right, kid," he answered. "But you see, you're so pumb little that-a-way, it throwed me off. I figured the safest thing I could do was to come through the territory with an officer. An' it would of be'n, too. Didn't we pass seven or eight of 'em? Didn't I borrow tobacco off one of 'em, an' play checkers with 'em, an' talk to 'em without one of 'em spottin' me? Tell me, straight. Superintendent, would you of know'd me, yourself?"
The Superintendent smiled. "I'm afraid not," he admitted, with puckered brow.
"What I can't figger," continued the prisoner, "is how the kid spotted me when all the others couldn't."
"Just a trick of the trade," smiled the boy, and the twinkle in his eye belied the innocence of his words as he continued: "The trouble with you is that you couldn't take a fellow at his word. When I told you to your face I would know Notorious Bishop if I saw him, didn't you believe me?"