The men were marched away to the village, where they were incarcerated in the village lockup. In order that there would not be the slightest chance of their escaping, or being rescued by friends, who might in some way learn of their capture, Fernald ordered the Customs agents and the sheriff and his deputies to stand guard the rest of the night, keeping the prisoners constantly under surveillance.

Himself taking charge of the precious belt, he led the way to the Everett house. Here they found that Ruth had not retired, but had stayed up, nervously awaiting their return.

Carefully drawing the shades of the windows, Fernald emptied the pockets of the belt out onto the tablecloth.

For moments all stood spellbound at the beauty and magnificence of the gems.

Then Fernald, almost with awe in his voice, said:

“Why, there’s a king’s ransom here!”

After the party had examined the gems, and commented again and again on their beauty, it occurred to Ruth to ask what would be the disposal of the jewels.

“I imagine that in this case, since they are recovered after a theft, that an effort will be made to get in touch with the rightful owner. In the case of ordinary smuggled jewels, they would be seized by the United States. This, however, is a slightly different case. It is up to the department at Washington, where I shall go immediately to turn this fortune over to the proper persons. I confess, the quicker they get out of my care, the better I shall like it. They are too fabulously valuable to allow me to keep cool while in possession of them. Every minute I shall feel that someone is trying to get them. I’m off to Washington as soon as day comes, and I can get a train,” concluded Fernald.

“And now, before we trot off to bed, what are your plans, boys? Will you return to Augusta to get your old station back again, or what?” asked the Customs man.

“Why, to tell you the truth, I should like a chance to stay here for two or three days and get a little hunting and fishing. We didn’t have much chance for that while we were on this mission. I guess perhaps we could wire the Chief Ranger and ask for a little furlough. Also, we must wire the Customs Chief that we have done our work. I think probably the boys feel the same way that I do,” said Garry.

“Well, if that is what you would like, it is very simple, and is a modest request. Leave that all to me. I’ll stop off at Augusta and fix it for you. By the way, now that everything is all over, I may as well tell you that I am in complete charge of all Customs agents and houses for the entire northeastern part of the United States, so I guess I have influence enough to get your furlough fixed up for you,” said Fernald, to the surprise of the boys.

Mr. Everett, however, proclaimed at once:

“I knew that all the time.”

“Yes, I fancy you did,” he said with a smile. “Now, I’m for a few minutes’ sleep before morning train time.”

“Yes, I guess we can all use a little,” said Everett.

All trooped off to bed, having been told by Everett first that they could sleep until nine, as there was no train out that Fernald could take until ten o’clock, and he would have time for breakfast before starting back for Washington.

Rising time came all too soon, and the boys walked to the station to see Fernald off. Then they went back to the Everett house to get their rifles, and bid them goodbye, for they wanted to be off for their lean-to in the woods, there to plan out how to spend the week furlough they were depending on Fernald to secure for them.

They found the lean-to as they had left it, and their knapsacks and groceries were retrieved from their caches in the trees, as safe and sound as they were when they were put there some days before.

“I wonder if we are safe from LeBlanc?” asked Garry.

“I should say yes to that question, Garry,” answered Phil. “He has been beaten at every turn. His friends are on their way to jail in Bangor, to be held for hearing before the United States Commissioner there, and he knows that the Customs service men will be relentless in their watch for him now that he has broken the law of the country. Besides, we shall soon be away from here, for I suggest we hike out soon for Lake Umculos, which is about thirty miles from here, and get some good fishing. The lake trout ought to be biting fine just about now, and we could get in some good swimming too, and that would please old heavyweight Dick.”

Dick, as some of our readers know, was like a fish in the water, as most fat people are.

As they prepared lunch over the campfire, Phil broke out with:

“Do you know, fellows, in the stress and excitement of the past few days, we have never given a thought to the adventure of the lumberjack’s boarding house, and the map that was bequeathed me by the old man just before he died? I wonder if there isn’t some way we can dope out what the rest of it was. And while I’m asking questions, here are two more. What became of the tramps, and who was it that so carefully fixed up the shack at the deserted logging camp?”

“That’s quite a bundle of questions, Phil,” said Garry with a laugh. “To try and answer the first one, I am afraid that it is impossible. All we have to go on is that you start somewhere from the mouth of some small ravine. There is no telling how many small ravines there are in the State of Maine. Guess that is just a mysterious page in our book of adventures. As for the tramps, the fact that they were in this part of the country at all, points to just one theory, and that is, that having jumped bail, they are making tracks for the boundary line, thus getting themselves out of the country, so there will be less danger, if any, of their being captured and brought to trial. As for the last question, that too is a mystery, but there is one thing we can do, if you want to postpone your trip to the lake for two or three days, that is, solve the mystery. What’s the vote?”

“I’m for solving a mystery any day in preference to fishing. We can fish almost anytime, and the lakes will keep, but we don’t have a nice mystery served up on a silver platter everyday,” announced Dick.

“That’s my vote,” agreed Phil.

“Then the question seems to be carried. The chair will now entertain a motion for the mode of procedure,” announced Garry in a parliamentary tone.

The boys reflected for a moment or two, and then a suggestion was offered by Phil.

“Seems to me that the only way to do anything is to keep watch there for a while. We could take turns at it, while the other two took hikes or did a little hunting. We could take it in half day shifts, for it isn’t very far from here.”

“That seems the only feasible thing to do, but how could we keep watch without the person or persons who inhabit that place discovering our presence?” asked the practical Garry.

“There’s one way out of that difficulty,” offered Dick, “and that is to effect an entrance to the big bunkhouse, and rig up some sort of a peephole, and keep watch of the place in that manner. It is unlikely that place would ever be entered by those who are using the shack. Then here’s another thing. You could rig your wireless here, and use one of the sending sets in the bunkhouse, so that the lookout could summon help if necessary.”

“The bunkhouse idea is great, really it’s the only feasible way. But the wireless ’phone is not such a good idea. It would entail staying right here all the time waiting for a possible message, and would be too irksome, besides losing all chance of hunting or fishing. I for one am anxious to try that trout brook old Dud told us of. Besides, there should be no especial danger, if there was I’d advise against having anything to do with it. Shall we draw lots for the first whack at watching?”

This was agreeable to all, and Garry drew watch number one, which they decided was to begin in the morning. All three would go to the bunkhouse, effect an entrance, and plan a way of speedy exit in case of need.

After lunch they overhauled their fishing tackle, and made for the brook, determined to catch a good mess of trout for their supper that night. Starting for the spring, they followed the course of the brook, until they reached a place where it was considerably wider and deeper.

Under the natural culvert, formed by the trunk fallen across, they cast their lines, using flies from their hook. Not having rods with them on this trip, they were forced to use slender saplings, but they were after food and not sport, so they did not mind pursuing the amateur way of flipping the fish on shore without playing him in the fashion dear to the hearts of anglers.

“If we go to the lake, we’ll make up for this, for we can procure rods there, and have a real battle with some of those fine big lake trout,” promised Garry.

“There isn’t much sport to this, it is true,” remarked Phil, as he flipped a fine specimen weighing at least three-quarters of a pound to the shore, “but they’re going to be mighty fine eating just the same.”

The fish were biting unusually well, and in less than no time they had a fine mess sufficient for supper. Returning to the lean-to, they cleaned the fish, and then spent the rest of the afternoon lounging about, for they had lost much sleep in the past two or three days, and no one was feeling particularly spry.

They had the fried fish, garnished with bacon, and hot biscuits and jam for supper, with of course the coffee that always goes with an out-of-door meal.

As soon as it was dark, they rolled in their blankets, and with their feet to the fire, were soon deep in sleep.

They were up with the dawn, and after breakfast headed towards the deserted logging camp. They approached carefully, and when within sight of it, waited and reconnoitered.

“Guess no one is at home or there would be a sign of smoke from the chimney, unless whoever is living there is eating raw food. Let’s take a look at the spring,” said Garry.

At the spring they found no sign of anyone having been there lately. This was easily seen, for the ground was soft about the bubbling spring, and would have retained a fresh print.

“All right then, now for the bunkhouse,” ordered Garry.

They entered by prying loose one of the shutters and hopped inside. The interior gave no sign of having been used for years, as the dust was thick everywhere, and nothing could be found that looked as though it had been touched in some time.

In an old cupboard they found a box of nails of all sizes, and this gave Garry an idea. Cutting his bandanna handkerchiefs in strips, he doubled them up, until he had oblong pieces about two inches in width and four in length. Then he removed the shutter entirely, and fastened the cloth hinges he had made to it. While the others held the shutter in place again, he fastened the other ends of the crude hinges to the top of the window casing. A piece of string from his pocket was utilized to hold it tight against the bottom of the sill.

“You see, this string holds the shutter in place, and from the outside no one would ever suspect that it had been touched. You see I’ve used a window that is not in view of the shack. Now should it become necessary for any reason to leave this place in a hurry, a sharp push will break the strings that holds the shutter in at the bottom, and pushing out the shutter, it’s only a matter of seconds in getting out. Then you can use your legs in getting clear of the vicinity,” explained Garry.

At the opposite end of the shack, in a shutter, was pierced a peephole that commanded a view of the door of the shack that the boys believed was the one used by the occupant or occupants of the building.

“There, everything is set. You chaps hike, and then Dick is to return at noon to relieve me, leaving Phil the first watch tomorrow morning,” ordered Garry.

Garry’s watch was unavailing, for when Dick came at noon he had nothing to report. It was arranged that no one should come for Dick, but that he should be back as soon after dusk set in as possible. In order to be sure of Dick’s safety, it was agreed that if he were not back by eight o’clock the others should come and see what was up, or if anything was the trouble.

Dick turned up at the lean-to just as dark set in, and reported that there was nothing stirring.

The boys were almost of the opinion that the whole business was a wild goose chase, but Phil was determined to take a hand at watching, and it was agreed that he should stand the morning watch, and be joined at noon by the others, who would finish the day together.

In case nothing developed they would put an end to the watching and start for Umculos Lake the following morning.

Phil started for his post the next morning. As he went, he said:

“I’ve a hunch something breaks this morning, hope my hunch comes true.”

He had been gone not much more than an hour when he came tearing back, just catching the others as they were setting out on a short hike into a new and unexplored part of the woods.

“The mysterious occupant has come, and guess who it is!” he shouted.

“LeBlanc?” questioned Garry.

“The tramps?” hazarded Dick.

“Both wrong. It’s the chap who was in the room with the old man in that house in Bangor. The one who got away with the missing portion of the map!”