"These fellows don't think much of breaking the game laws," he thought as he ruminated on the contents of the big iron pot from which their noon-day meal had been served. Then came another thought. If they so openly violated the laws, the country was surely a lonely one, and seldom, or never, visited. Indeed, the thick forest of hemlock and other coniferous trees that fringed the cliff summits, would seem to indicate that the spot was well chosen.
Jumbo was not confined. The gang seemed to esteem him as more or less harmless for, although a sharp watch was kept on him, he was not fettered. Once or twice he caught Rob's eye with a knowing look. But he said nothing. One or another of the men kept too close and constant a watch for that. And so the hours wore on. Tied as Rob was, the small black flies and other winged mountain pests made life almost intolerable. With infinite pains the lad dragged himself to a spot of shade under a stunted alder bush. He lay here with something very like despair clutching coldly at his heart. The canoes had been anchored, with big stones attached to ropes, at some distance out in the little bay. Only one remained on shore, and by that Jim Dale kept an unrelaxing vigil.
Jim and Peter were talking in low voices. Rob overheard enough to know that their talk was of the old lawless days when the moonshine gang made the hidden cove their rendezvous.
"Those were the days," Dale said with a regretful sigh, "money was plenty then. By the way, Pete, did you ever hear what became of Black Bart and the others after the revenues broke us up?"
"No, I never wanted to take a chance of inquiring," rejoined Peter, puffing at a dirty corn cob. "I did hear, though, that they had resumed operations some place around here."
"They did, eh? I suppose they figgered that lightning don't never strike twice in the same place."
"Just the same, they are taking a long chance. With revenues against you it's all one sided--like the handle of a jug."
"That's so. But there's good money in it, and Black Bart would risk a lot for that."
The conversation was carried on in low tones. Rob, intent though he was, could not catch any more of it. But he pondered over what he had heard. If what Jim Dale and Peter had said was correct, a gang of moonshiners still made the mountains thereabouts their habitat.