CHAPTER XV

“THE TERRIBLE MACGUFFINS”

“Now what do you think of that?” challenged Hiram, after a long spell of wondering silence.

“I don’t think it was intended for us,” responded the young aviator.

“Why not?”

“Because that revolving light, or whatever it is, flashed in every direction, and that firearm wasn’t aimed towards us.”

“That’s so,” agreed Hiram. “But what was it done for at all?”

“We had better try and find out,” suggested the young aviator.

The boys waited for some little time, expecting a renewal of the strange manifestations, but it did not come. Then Dave led the way, creeping up the incline. As they reached the top of the knoll, they paused and looked about them. Sheltered in a kind of a dip of the ground, they could make out half a hundred sheep huddled together. No human being was visible.

“There’s the contrivance that flashed and fired,” announced Hiram, pointing to a small raised platform at the edge of the knoll.

“I guess it is,” assented the young aviator; “go slow, Hiram. No need to run any risks.”

Neither could refrain from satisfying his curiosity as to the purpose of the device near to them. As they neared it, proceeding cautiously, the bright rays of the moon, just rising, showed clear outlines of the platform and the object upon it.

“Hark—listen!” ordered Dave, suddenly.

As they waited a sharp tick—tick, regular and prolonged, struck their hearing.

“It’s a clock,” declared Hiram. “Look there—seven or eight gun barrels. And wires running to that box. There’s clock works in it. See, the light is still burning, but shut in with a cover.”

“That’s so,” nodded Dave, surprised and still puzzled.

“Oh, say!” cried Hiram, suddenly, “I’ve guessed out the whole scheme.”

“Have you?”

“I think so.”

“What is it?” asked the young aviator.

“Why, this is a contrivance for scaring away wolves. It’s mighty cute, and it must be a smart fellow who got it up. Don’t you see, probably every hour the light flashes and one of those firearms goes off. That would scare wolves good and right.”

“I believe you have solved the problem,” said Dave.

He was certain of it as they made a closer inspection of the queer contrivance. Some backwood genius had spent time and some money in rigging up a wolf-scarer that kept up an alarm and illumination through the night, serving as a protection for the sheepfold.

“Of course there’s a house somewhere near,” said Hiram, as they started from the spot.

“Yes, look there—a light!” cried Dave.

What looked like a candle or lamp in a window showed at a little distance. The young adventurers hurried along with a good deal of satisfaction.

They finally reached a roomy log cabin with a barn behind it. As they passed around the house they were unable to discover anybody about the premises. They knocked and then hammered at the front door. There was no response, and Hiram shouted, but no one appeared. Walking around the house, they could see through the uncurtained windows into every room.

“There’s no one in the house, it seems,” said the young aviator.

“Probably gone to some neighbor’s,” suggested Hiram.

“What is that?” suddenly exclaimed Dave.

Towards the southeast a growing glare showed in the sky. It increased in brightness each moment.

“It’s a fire!” declared Dave.

“I think so, too. Let’s run for it,” spoke Hiram.

They had gone perhaps a quarter of a mile when shots and then shouts rang out on the still night air.

“Someone is running this way,” said Dave.

Against the radiance of the mingled fire glow and the moonlight the boys saw a woman hurriedly crossing a clear space beyond the trees. She held a baby in her arms. A little girl she clasped by the hand. The baby was crying, and the woman, with many a fearful glance back of her, was sobbing audibly.

She came directly towards the boys. Dave stepped forward in her path. The woman drew back with a shriek of alarm.

“Don’t be frightened,” said Dave.

“You do not belong to the raiders?” the woman faltered, all in a tremble.

“What raiders?” asked Hiram.

“The MacGuffins—the terrible MacGuffins!” almost wailed the woman.

“Who are they?”

“Don’t you know?” asked the woman, incredulously.

“We are strangers here, madam,” explained the young airman. “What is the fire and what is the trouble?”

“All our men are away—hiding from the officers down at Brambly Fork,” said the woman. “The MacGuffins have made a raid and are burning us all out! They may kill us if they catch us. Oh, sirs, help me get our little ones in hiding,” she pleaded.

“To your home, do you mean?” inquired Dave.

“Oh, no, no,” dissented the woman instantly. “That is the worst place in the world to go to just now. They will burn our house next.”

“They may not harm you,” suggested Dave.

“Yes, they will. My husband is the man they hate the most. It’s an old quarrel between the MacGuffins and our people. They will harm you, too, if they catch you.”

“Why should they?” asked Hiram.

“Because no stranger is ever allowed in these Carolina mountains. They are all moonshiners, and will take you for detectives. They shot two suspicious characters only a few days ago.”

“H’m,” remarked Hiram under his breath. “We’re in a nice country!”

The young aviator comprehended the situation at once. He had read and heard of these North Carolina outlaws and their family feuds, sometimes running through half a dozen generations.

“How can we help you?” he said to the woman.

“It isn’t safe for us anywhere around here,” she declared. “I must get to my husband.”

“At Brambly Fork, you mean?”

“Yes, that’s where he is, and his crowd.”

“Is it far from here?”

“About fifteen miles. He ought to know about the MacGuffins, so as to drive them away before they steal our cattle and crops. I can manage to get along with the baby, but the little girl is ready to drop down from tiredness. See, oh, hide! hide! They are coming this way!”

Among the trees beyond the clearing the boys could see men with torches and armed with rifles coming in their direction.

“They are going to fire our house next!” cried the woman, bursting into tears.

“I am afraid it would be foolish for us to try and prevent them,” remarked Dave. “They are armed and in a dangerous mood.”

“You would simply risk your lives.”

The young aviator snatched up the little girl in his arms.

“Help the lady, Hiram,” he directed, “and follow me.”

Dave led the way to a thick copse. The woman told the little girl to keep perfectly quiet. In a few minutes the men they had seen passed by without discovering them.

“I must get to my husband at once,” said the woman, eagerly, as soon as the horde of raiders was out of sight and hearing.

“You can’t go alone,” observed Dave. “Here, we will go with you. Take turns at carrying the little girl, Hiram.”

The woman sobbed out her heartfelt gratitude. Then Dave questioned her as to the direction of Brambly Fork, and all were soon on the way.

“This isn’t looking for Mr. King, Dave,” suggested Hiram, after awhile.

“Mr. King will take care of himself, Hiram,” replied the young aviator.

“Yes, but neither is this looking for a town where we might get that quicksilver.”

“It’s on the way to it, isn’t it? When we get to the place where this woman’s husband is, some of the crowd can direct us to the nearest settlement, that is sure.”

It was pretty hard traveling, after a day of heavy tramping. The forlorn condition of the woman, however, appealed to both the boys.

“We are very near Brambly Fork now,” spoke the woman at the end of four hours, during which time they had rested frequently. “Another turn in the valley and we will be there.”

“Sure enough!” cried Hiram with animation.

They had come upon a spot well shut in on three sides with trees. A big campfire was burning, and near it were gathered a dozen or more men. Their interest was centered on a man who stood with his arms bound behind him.

“Why,” cried Dave, “it’s Mr. King!”