The Golden Quest

CHAPTER VIII. THE LODGE ON THE LAKE

LATE afternoon. A rattletrap flivver was jouncing along a rough road through thick forest land. It was driven by an overalled native who seemed to enjoy the bumpiest spots. Harry Vincent and Rex Brodford were bouncing about in the back seat.

“Ease it, driver,” ordered Rex. “Miss a few of those rocks if you can. How much farther?”

“‘Bout two miles,” came the rejoinder, as the old car thumped a rut. “‘Tain’t far to the lumber-camp road. You’ll see it over that way.”

He nudged his thumb to the right. Shortly afterward, the rattly touring car rounded a bend. Harry and Rex saw a corduroy road leading off to the right. That was the route to the lumber camp that Cortland Laspar had installed in this vicinity.

The amateur chauffeur kept driving onward. A clearing showed among the trees; through it, the passengers caught the blue sheen of a lake. Trees again; then another sight of blue. At last there were frequent glimpses of water on both sides. The car came to a rocky clearing where a lowlying house stood by the fringe of trees.

This was Cortland Laspar’s lodge. Its setting was ideal. The house was situated on a promontory that jutted out into the lake. All about were twisting, wooded shores. Off toward the right, the lake widened and showed tree-clad isles.

From one, a tiny wreath of smoke was curling upward, its thin white a contrast to the ultramarine hue of Lake Chalice and the emerald banking of the forest.

Harry and Rex alighted. Coming from the verandah of the lodge was Cortland Laspar. The gray-haired man was clad in a linen suit. He seemed to be enjoying the pleasant weather.

Rex shook hands with his uncle’s friend, then introduced Harry. The hired car started back toward the depot, miles away.

The arrivals accompanied Laspar up to the lodge. They ascended the steps of the broad verandah, crossed the porch and entered the front door. They found themselves in a broad, cool living room that won their instant admiration.

Laspar smiled as he noted the enthusiasm. It was plain that the magnate was proud of this room. It was furnished with wicker chairs and tables, all of attractive pattern. Smooth grass rugs carpeted the floor.

Upon the walls hung numerous trophies — heads of deer, moose and elk. A bear rug in one corner formed the setting for a rack that held an array of shotguns and rifles.

Viewed from the front door, the living room spread off to the right. An alcove at the far rear was large enough to form a small library; books in their cases, reading lamp on a table, were evidences of the alcove’s purpose.

Straight ahead from the front door, namely, at the left rear of the living room, was a long passage that led to other quarters of the lodge. Though low, the building occupied a large area.

“Miguel!”

As Laspar called the name, a stout Filipino appeared. The man was wearing a white coat. He grinned as he saw the visitors. Laspar called for drinks. Miguel nodded and departed.

While waiting for refreshments, Laspar motioned his guests to chairs.

“How do you like the lodge?” Laspar inquired.

“Excellently!” returned Harry. “You certainly designed it well, Mr. Laspar.”

“No credit to me,” laughed the magnate. “This was not my lodge originally. In fact, I have occupied it for only a short time. Since we established the new camp two miles back from the lake.”

“The lodge was here before that?” asked Rex.

“Yes,” replied Laspar. “It was built by a gunning club that later disbanded. The lodge remained unoccupied for a few years. I purchased it quite cheaply. I like it so well that I may return here for the winter. This fireplace” — he indicated a huge hearth in the front wall — “should make the house warm and cheerful, even in the coldest weather.”

“Lucky you are in the lumber business,” remarked Rex. “You’ll use a lot of logs when you get going.”

“Oddly,” chuckled Laspar, “I shall not have to supply my own firewood. The gunning club apparently stocked up in advance. In fact, it is lucky that I have nothing to store here. The cellar — or what there is of one — is completely cluttered.”

So speaking, Laspar arose and went to the passage that led to the rear of the building. He stopped halfway and unlocked a metal-sheathed door that was set in the right wall of the passage. He beckoned.

Harry and Rex arose.

Laspar opened the door and turned on a light. A glow from below revealed a square-shaped cellar beneath the living room. Harry and Rex went down a flight of steps to find their way blocked by heaps of broken-down furniture. Tables, chairs and cots formed an array of junk.

“Is this the firewood?” called Rex to Laspar; who was at the head of the stairs.

“No,” returned the millionaire, laughing at the question. “Those antiques belong to the gunners, if they ever choose to call for them. I shall have to clear them out of the way when I want to get at the logs. The cordwood is stacked over beyond.”

“I see it.”

Rex pointed. Harry saw. The far wall of the cellar was massed with stacks of logs for the fireplace. This fuel looked sufficient to last for two winters. It was inaccessible without shifting chairs and tables.

“Come on up,” called Laspar. “Miguel is here with the drinks.”

Harry and Rex ascended the stairs. Laspar locked the door, then motioned toward the verandah. They found Miguel waiting with iced drinks. The three seated themselves about a table and reached for their glasses.

“FROM here,” remarked Laspar, gesturing toward the lake, “you can view the property of the Quest mine. It is there, on the farther shore. Its acreage stretches to the right, clear down past those islands.”

“Where does it begin?” asked Rex.

“Do you see that break among the trees?” returned Laspar, pointing slightly to the left. “That is a gully that becomes a stream during rainy seasons. To the right of it, all is Quest mine property. To the left is the property of the Chalice mine.”

“It’s not far across the lake,” remarked Harry. “Not more than a hundred and fifty yards.”

“The lake is narrow at this point,” agreed Laspar. “It widens out at both sides. It is almost like two lakes, with a narrow strait between.”

“What about the timber?” queried Rex. “Your lumber camp is on this side of the lake. How do you intend to clear the Quest mine property?”

“We intend to work around the lake,” explained Laspar. “Extending the corduroy road as we proceed. But we will not reach the Quest mine property until next season.”

“And how long will it require to clear it?”

“Three seasons, at least. And by that time, I believe that the Chalice mine property will have long been abandoned. I shall probably be able to obtain new timber rights there.”

The sun was setting. Lake Chalice, placid in its sylvan setting, was taking on a purplish hue that held the gaze of the observers.

“I had not expected you to arrive so soon, Rex,” mused Laspar. “Nevertheless, I am glad that you are here. If you really intend to search for that forgotten mine shaft, the sooner that you begin, the better.”

“I do intend to look for it,” asserted Rex. “Particularly since a certain party tried to persuade me not to come here.”

“Did Witherby advise you against it?”

“I don’t mean Witherby. Of course he pooh-poohs the idea of the Quest mine being worth anything at all. I mean someone who took measures to prevent my trip here.”

“Someone tried to stop your journey?”

“Yes. James Jubal.”

An exclamation of surprise came from Laspar. The magnate had apparently not expected any mention of the swindler’s name. Laspar’s expression was perplexed. Rex smiled as he began an explanation.

In detail, the young man told of Jubal’s visit. He described the fight near the Club Renaldo. He added details concerning his rescue by Harry Vincent.

“Most amazing!” exclaimed Laspar, when Rex had concluded. “What did Witherby have to say about it when you called him from Detroit?”

“I told him nothing,” replied Rex. “I simply said that I wanted him to keep my stock in safe deposit. But I learned something from him, at that.”

“About Jubal?”

“No. About Firth. The servant mailed Witherby the key, but no other communication.”

“He will probably write later.”

“Witherby thinks not. He believes that Firth is disgruntled because he was not remembered in my uncle’s will. If that is so, it explains facts about the mess that I encountered.”

“You mean a connection between Firth and Jubal?”

“I do. Both have disappeared. By rights, I should be dead.”

“A PLAUSIBLE theory, Rex,” declared Laspar, soberly. “I like your reasoning in this matter. There is only one point that I doubt. I do not believe that Jubal wanted that stock because he thinks there is gold in the Quest mine.”

“You mean he wanted it only to sell?”

“Yes. It would be a profitable offering to his sucker list. The man’s game is fake promotion. Like all swindlers, he would ignore a legitimate undertaking.”

“Perhaps you are right, Mr. Laspar.”

“I feel sure that I am right. But do not let that discourage you if you are determined to search for the mine shaft. It is somewhere in those slopes. That much is certain.”

“My surveyors went over that timber land. They built a shack there, some distance in from the lake, that you can use for temporary headquarters any night that you do not care to make a long trip back to the lodge.

“With Vincent aiding you, your search should be speeded. At the same time, I doubt that you will find the entrance to the forgotten shaft. My men looked for it — I ordered them to do so — but they found no trace.”

Laspar paused. Rex took up the theme.

“It occurred to me,” said the heir, “that someone in this terrain might hazard a guess as to where the mine shaft is. Your men have not been here long, have they?”

“No,” replied Laspar. “Possibly you might find some natives over at the Chalice mine camp.”

“They are still working there?”

“A skeleton crew is on duty at the entrance to the Chalice shaft. A mile east of the dividing line between the two properties.”

“Would they welcome a visit from me?”

“I don’t see why not. There should be no antagonism on their part. I think that a visit should prove worthwhile. You can use my motorboat.”

Laspar paused thoughtfully. He stared out over the lake. His eyes caught the wisp of white smoke that was still coiling from the distant island. He started to say something; then hesitated, but finally spoke.

“There is a cabin on that island,” stated Laspar. “It is occupied by an old hermit who has been hereabouts for years. A bearded recluse, whom the natives have dubbed Old Absalom.”

“Do you think he might know the location of the Quest mine?” asked Rex.

“It is possible,” acknowledged Laspar. “Yet I hesitated in mentioning Old Absalom. He is something of a dangerous character. People have found it wise to keep clear of his isle.”

“He resents intrusion?”

“Yes. His island is posted with crude signs that are a warning against trespassers. Old Absalom, himself, is seen only at intervals. Sometimes on the lake, fishing; at other times he comes ashore.”

“Has he ever been over here?”

“No. But he has approached the lumber camp; and I believe he may have gone over to the Quest mine. He must have a small hoard of money, because he brings coins and bargains for supplies or tobacco. But outside of that, he avoids all conversation. At least, that is what they say.”

“He has been here for years?”

“Presumably. It is said that he once killed a man who ventured to his island. Dropped the fellow with a shotgun. The intruder was a vagrant who might have been after Old Absalom’s money.”

“So they acquitted Old Absalom?”

“Yes. Old Absalom has claim to that island. What he did once, he might do again. That is why I would not advise you to go over there. The old hermit might make trouble for all strangers.”

REX nodded. So did Harry. Yet both were intrigued by the possibility of obtaining information from the strange recluse whom Laspar had mentioned.

“Old Absalom is a trapper in the winter,” added Laspar. “He must know a great deal about this territory. But they say that he talks only in grunts. Possibly he is feebleminded, or perhaps demented.

“It would be difficult, I imagine, to gain real information from him. At the same time, he is the one man who might be able to name the exact location of the Quest mine shaft. You can think about him later, after you have inquired elsewhere.”

Old Absalom’s low-set isle had blackened in the shadow of the higher shores. But as the three men watched the curling smoke above the trees, they noticed a moving object on the darkened water.

It was a small boat, rowed by a stoop-shouldered oarsman. It had come from the darkness of a shore; it was coasting into the shelter of the isle.

“Old Absalom,” remarked Laspar. “Coming home.”

Harry and Rex continued to observe the spot where the boat had disappeared. Then came a sound that made them turn their eyes upward. The thrum of an approaching airplane.

High above the trees, they spotted the winged craft. It was topped by spinning blades that gave it the appearance of a windmill. The ship was traveling over Lake Chalice, heading toward the setting sun.

“An autogyro!” exclaimed Rex.

“The first that I have seen hereabouts,” remarked Laspar. “Well, I must commend the pilot for his wisdom.”

“Why so” inquired Rex.

“Because this territory lacks landing fields,” explained Laspar. “But there are many rough clearings among the timber tracts. An autogyro is the one type of ship that could survive a forced landing.”

CONVERSATION ended as the three observers watched the whirling-topped ship pass low beyond the hazy green horizon. Then Laspar and Rex began new conversation about “Old Absalom.” Harry Vincent alone remained silent.

For Harry was thinking of the ship that had gone from view. He was confident that the autogyro had come prepared for a landing within a few miles of Lake Chalice.

For The Shadow, when he traveled on special missions, chose an autogyro for his journeys. In that craft, he could have come speedily from New York, almost overtaking Harry and Rex on their trip to Laspar’s lodge.

With his ship, The Shadow was equipped to land in one of the clearings that Laspar had mentioned.

From there he could come secretly to Lake Chalice, to keep an eye on whatever might transpire.

Wisely, Harry Vincent repressed all signs of the new confidence that he felt. Dangers that might arise from the past; trials that might be encountered in the future — both were lessened by The Shadow’s arrival.

That throbbing ship above the darkening waters of Lake Chalice had been a deliberate signal for Harry Vincent’s benefit. To the agent, it meant that The Shadow was at hand.