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About Omaha daily bee. (Omaha [Neb.]) 187?-1922 | View Entire Issue (March 9, 1913)
10 THE SEMI-MONTHLY MAGAZINE SECTION Then, a mile beyond Cartier's, out of the busli they como on to tho road. What can that mean ? Feller who made the tracks don't want to be seen. No. 8 boots, city made, nails in 'em, rubber heels. Como on." I will not attempt to describe our journey hour by hour, nor tell how November clung to the trail, fol lowing it over areas of hard ground and rock, notic ing a scratch hero and a broken twig there. The troop e r , II o b s o n , proved to be p good track-reader, but he thought himself a belter, . Ifcf There cams to us the sound of his monotonous muttering "You can take all the trouble you like," said tho prisoner. Ilobson plunged his hands into Atterson's pockets and searched him thoroughly, but found nothing. "They are not on him," he cried. "Try his pack." From the pack November produced a square bottle of whiskey, some bread, salt, a slab of mutton . . . that was all. "Where have you hidden tho stuff?" demanded Ilobson. Suddenly, Attersou laughed. "So yon think 1 robbed the Bank?" he said. "1 've got a grudge against them, and I 'in glad to hear they 've been hit by some one, though I 'm not the man. Any way, 1 '11 have you and them for wrong ful arrest with violence." He turned to us. "You "two are witnesses." "Do you deny you're Cecil Attersou?" said Hob son. "No, I am Attersou right enough." "Then look here, Attersou, your best chance is to show us where you've hid the stuff. Your counsel can put that in your favor at your trial." "1 'm not taking any advice just now, thank you, I have said I know nothing of the robbery." Ilobson looked him up and down. "You'll sing another tune by-and-bye," ho said ironically. "We may as well start in now, Joe, and find where he's cached that packet." November was fingering over the pack that lay open on the ground, examining it and its contents with concentrated attention. Attersou had sunk down under a tree like a weary man. Ilobson and Joe made a rapid examination of the vicinity. A few yards brought them to the end of Atterson's tracks. "Herd's where ho slept," said Ilobson. "It's all pretty clear. He was dog-tired and just col lapsed. I guess that was last night. It's an old camping place, this." Tho policeman pointed to weathered beds of balsam and the scars of several camp-fires. For upward of an hour Hob son searched every conceivable spot, but not so November Joe, who, after a couple of quick casts down to the river, made a fire put on the kettle and lit his pipe. Atterson, from under his tree, watched the proceedings with a drowsy lack of interest that struck me as being particularly well simulated. At length Ilobson ceased his exertions and accepted a cup of tho tea Joe had brewed. "There's nothing cached round, here," he said in a voice low enough to escape tho prisoner's ear, "and tho trail stops right where Atterson slept. He never moved a foot beyond that, nor went down to tho river one hundred yards away. I guess what he's done is clear enough." "Think no one could have visited him. Do you think he's got the bills and papers hid about here after all?" "No," said Joe. Ilobson stared, at the answer, then turned to go. "Well," said he, "you take your way and I '11 take mine. 1 reckon 1 '11 get a confession out of him be fore we reach Quebec. He 's a pretty tired man, and lie don t rest nor sleep, no, nor sit down till he 's put me wise ns to wliere he 's hid the stuff he stole." "He won't ever put you wise," said Joe definitely. "He don't know himself." "Bahl" was all Hobson's answer as he turned on his heel. NOVEMBER JOE did not move as Ilobson, his. wrist strapped to Atterson's, disappeared down the trail by which we had come. "Well," 1 said. "What next?" "Let 's take another look around." Joe leaped to his feet, and we went quickly over the ground. "What do you make of it?" ho said at last. "Nothing," I answered. "There arc no tracks nor other signs, except these two or three places where old logs have been lying that 1 expect Atterson picked up for his fire. I don't understand what you are getting at any more than Ilobson docs." "Huh!" said Joe, and led the way down to the river, which though not much more than fifty yards away was hidden from us by the thick trees. It was a slow flowing river and in the soft mud of the margin, I saw to my surprise the quite recent traces of a canoe having been beached. Beside the canoe there was also on the mud the faint mark of n paddle having lain at full length. "How long ago was the canoe here?" "At first light maybe between three and four o'clock," replied Joe. Even if that is so I don't see how it helps you. Its coining can't have anything to do with the Atter son robbery, because the distance from here to the camp is too far to throw a packet, and the absence of tracks makes it clear that Atterson can not have handed the loot over to a confederate in the canoe. Isn't that so?" "Looks that way," admitted Joe. "Then the canoe is only a coincidence." "I would n't go so far as to say that, Mr. Quaritch." "I wonder if Atterson has confessed to Hobon yet," 1 said, meaning to draw November. (Continued on rage N) and was a little jealous of Joe's, to me, obvious su periority. Wo slept that night beside the trail. According to November, the thief was not many hours ahead of us. Everything depended upon whether ho could reach Red River and a canoe before we caught up with him. Still, it was not possible to follow a trail in tho darkness, so perforce wo camped. Tho next morning November wakened us nt daylight and once more we hurried forward. For somo time we followed Atterson's footsteps, and then found that they left the road. Tho police bfilccr went crashing along till Joe stopped him with a gesture. "Listen I" ho whispered. Wo moved on quietly and saw that! not fifty yards y trail or handed them to an aneau ol us a man was wanting oxcuetuy up ana accomplice. down. His face was quite clear in the slanting sun light, n resolute faco with a small dark moustache ond a two-days' growth of beard. His head was sunk upon his chest in an attitude of the utmost de spair; ho waved his hands, and on the still air there came to us tho sound of his monotonous mutter ing. Wo crept upon him. As we did so, Ilobson leaped forward and snapping his handcuffs on tho man's wrists cried: "Atterson, I 'vo got yon I" "Huh!" said Joe. so?" "Yep 1 The chap 's either cached them on the back ATTERSON sprang like a man on a wire; his faco went dead white. He stood quite still for a moment ns if dazed; then he said, in a queer voice: "Got me, havo you? Much good may it do you!" "Hand over that packet you 're carrying," an swered Ilobson. Thero wos another pause. "By tho way, I 'd like to hear exactly what I 'm charged with," said Atterson. "Like to hear!" said Ilobson. "You know. Theft of one hundred thousand dollars from tho Grand Banks. May as well hand them over and put me to no more trouble!" "That so? And what are you going to do next?" "I 'm thinking he '11 con fess all right when I get him alone." lie stood up as No vember moved to take a cup of tea over to Atterson. "No, you don't !" he cried. "Prisoner Atterson neither eats nor drinks between here and Quebec unless ho con fesses." "We 'd ' best bo going now," he continued ns No vember, shrugging, came back to the fireside. "You two walk on and let me get a private word with the pris oner." "I 'm staying here," said Joe. "But," expostulated Hob son, "Atterson's trail stops right hero where he slept. There are no other tracks, so -ill L 1 fancied her breath caught for the fraction of a second ft