Ronicky Doone's Treasure (1922) Read online

  "Just a moment," she said hastily, and, taking the slip which contained the figures, she perused it carefully.

  Ronicky and her father anxiously turned toward her. Since both of them were convinced that the trail to the treasure began at the shack of Cosslett, and since there was no possible clue save that piece of paper and the list of numbers, they hoped against hope that Jerry could make something out of it.

  "If they's any sense to it," said her father, "Jerry'll get at it. She always was a wonder at puzzles, even when she was no bigger'n a minute."

  The girl raised her fine head, and now the gray eyes were glinting with excitement.

  "It's a message of some kind written in a code," she announced. There's no doubt about that."

  The two men crowded about her.

  "You see?" she pointed out. "There are thirteen of those bracketed groups. Inside the brackets the numbers are separated with commas and grouped with semicolons. I counted the groups set off by the semicolons, and altogether there are fifty-eight of them. Well, the average length of a word is about five letters. Five goes into fifty-eight eleven times and a little over. That's near enough. Fifty-eight letters to make up eleven words. And those eleven words since they were locked up so carefully in the strong box may they not form the directions to the place where the treasure is buried? I admit that I don't see how he could have written complete directions with so few words; but at least it gives us a new hope, doesn't it?"

  The cheer from the two men was answer enough.

  "After all," said Ronicky, "that leaves us almost as much in the dark as ever. See any way you can get at the code?"

  "I don't know," said the girl, shaking her head. "It looks hard. But then, most puzzles seem hard until you get at them, you know; and, once they're deciphered, they seem so simple that everyone is surprised he didn't see through the thing before. There are lots of ways of making up codes, of course. The oldest way is the worst. You simply substitute particular characters for the different letters. In that way you simply have a new alphabet."

  "That sounds hard enough to suit me," said her father, peering anxiously over her shoulder at the paper.

  "But, you see," explained Geraldine, "that there are ways of distinguishing letters by the frequency with which they are used. E is used much more than any other letter. Then come T, A, N, O, I, et cetera, in that same order. And "

  "Where in the world," broke in Ronicky Doone, "did you learn all that?"

  "She's had a pile of schooling," replied the proud father.

  "Not schooling," Jerry Dawn said, with a laugh. "It's just that I've always been interested in puzzles, and I've picked up odds and ends of information that way. But to come back to this conundrum. It obviously isn't one of the simple types of codes. I'm certain that each group inside a semicolon represents a letter, and not one of the groups is identical with another. So the 'substituted alphabet' code isn't used at all. Outside of that code, there are scores of others, of course. Anyone can make up a code with a little forethought, and probably each code will be quite unlike, in several features, any other code in the world."

  "Then we're through," said her father bitterly. He wiped the perspiration from his forehead.

  "Please give me a chance to think," pleaded the girl, with a touch of irritation. "It isn't absolutely hopeless. At least there's room for work. For instance, inside of each bracket the first letter of each group is the same. And in each succeeding bracket the first letter is one larger. The characters of the first bracket run one, one, three, two; one, one, six, five; et cetera. In the second bracket they run two, nine, one, thirteen; two, nine, one, four, et cetera. And this continues right down to the last bracket, where the first character is thirteen."

  "But what on earth does that show?"

  "It shows an amateur maker of codes," said the girl firmly. "He could have left out the first character in every instance and found it simply by getting the number of the bracket in each case. Isn't that clear? But let's look at some other interesting features. The first character in each group is the same throughout the individual bracket. The second character is also identical throughout each bracket. In the first bracket the second character is everywhere one; in the second it is nine; in the third it is eighteen; in the fourth it is six. Each group is made up of four characters. The first two are regular throughout and follow some definite plan. The third character varies in the first two brackets only. In the first it is three, six, nine, twelve. In the second it is one, one, three. But after that the third character also becomes regular. In the third bracket it is always two, and in the fourth bracket it is always two; while in other brackets other numerals are used, but each is constant throughout the individual bracket. But the fourth character in each group is the variant. It changes continually."

  "It all sounds like Greek to me," said Ronicky.

  "I suppose it does," said the girl, "but that's simply because you haven't worked over things like this before. The regularity of the first three characters of the groups shows me that they are intended as guides. But the actual distinguishing element in each group is the last or fourth character. All of this, I admit, goes for nothing unless I get at some clue to the problem."

  "Maybe we can help," suggested Ronicky, "when it comes to clues."

  "They are of all kinds," said the girl, "these clues I refer to. They come out of the character and life of the man who makes the code, as a rule. This man, so far as I know, was a clever criminal. He also was fond of isolation and the Bible. Perhaps he thought he could read his way out of guilt and responsibility for his sins. At any rate, I'm going to think over what I know about him. The whole thing may clear up in a moment."

  And she walked away meditatingly tapping the Bible which had belonged to the dead Cosslett.

  "She's got book, chapter, and verse," Ronicky Doone remarked, with a grin, "and, as long as she's that far along she'll find the words pretty soon."

  These words were hardly out of his mouth when the girl turned on him in a flash.

  "Do you mean that seriously?" she cried eagerly.

  "Excuse me," murmured Ronicky. "I was only joking, and if "

  "Why not?" she exclaimed, more to herself than to him.

  Then, to their astonishment, she pushed the paper into the hand of Ronicky and opened the Bible.

  "Read the first group!" she commanded.

  "One, one, three, two," said Ronicky obediently.

  "Book one. That's Genesis. Chapter one, third verse, second word 'God. ' Ronicky, perhaps we have it, but I mistrust that beginning. People don't begin codes with the word God. But no! What he'd used would be merely the first letter of the word. That must be it. The first letter is G. Next?"

  "One, one, six, five," read Ronicky dutifully, but his voice was uneven with his excitement.

  "Book one, chapter one, sixth verse, fifth word!" translated Jerry Dawn. "And the word is 'there. ' Oh, Ronicky, we're lost! There isn't a word in the English language that begins with Gt. But go on."

  "One, one, nine, one. And don't give up. We're on the track of something!"

  Hugh Dawn said nothing. He sat on a rock with his head buried in his hands, hardly able to endure the tension.

  "Ninth verse, first word, 'A. ' Gta. Ronicky, we're lost, indeed. That isn't the beginning of any word!"

  "Wait a minute," urged Ronicky, as she closed the book with a slam. "Count off the letters in the verses instead of the words. First book, first chapter, third verse, second letter. What does that give you?"

  "N."

  "Now sixth verse and fifth letter."

  "O."

  "Ninth verse and first letter."

  "A."

  "Twelfth verse and fifth letter."

  "H. It spells N-O-A-H! Ronicky, we have it!"

  A groan of happiness came from Hugh Dawn, who rose and came stumbling to them. Steadily the spelling went on, Ronicky, scribbling down the letters as fast as the girl located them.

  In conclusion he read:
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  Noah and the crescent in line with ravenhead and the vixen twenty down.

  "Noah and the crescent in line with ravenhead and the vixen twenty down," repeated Hugh Dawn sourly. "And what the devil good does all the work do when it only brings us to this? Noah and the crescent twenty down!"

  He groaned again.

  "Just a minute more," said his daughter, more eagerly than ever. "Doesn't it strike you that those words are like names of places? Noah may be the name of a town. Then The Crescent, ' and 'Ravenhead, ' and The Vixen. '"

  "But what good do four jumbled names do us," asked the father.

  "I have it!" cried Ronicky. "It's sure plain now that it's down in black and white. 'Get Noah and The Crescent in line, and then get The Vixen and Ravenhead in line. And at the point where the lines cross, dig down twenty feet!"

  Both father and daughter shouted as the whole riddle became clear.

  "Heaven bless that iron box!" cried Hugh Dawn.

  "And the hammer that busted it!" Ronicky supplemented.

  "We're rich," went on Hugh Dawn. "The money's as good as ours. We can start planning how to spend twenty millions. Don't I know the old Ravenhead Mountain? And don't I know The Crescent? And maybe they's a couple of smaller mountains around them parts that are called The Vixen and Mount Noah. I dunno. But well start right now for old Ravenhead Mountain!"

  Chapter Ten. Disaster.

  In that determination, however, he was ruled down by Ronicky and Jerry Dawn. For now the twilight was deepening, and the way toward Ravenhead, over rough trails and twenty miles away, according to Dawn's recollection, would make bitter work in the darkness. It was determined, therefore, to wait until the morning. With the first gray of dawn they would start, and by that light they should easily manage to get over the trail to Ravenhead by midmorning.

  Ronicky Doone estimated the time at their disposal.

  "We ought," he said, "to have the stuff located by tomorrow night, and while we're working Jerry can ride over the hills and get a wagon and a team of hosses from the nearest town. We'll load and start straight back, and when we get near civilization we can hire enough gents to hold off Moon and his three."

  "His three?" Hugh Dawn groaned. "His thirty, more like! He's got 'em scattered through the country, son, and he has ways of getting in touch with 'em pronto. If he got excited about this trail, he might have the whole crowd out combing the country for me inside of twenty-four hours. Still, I think we got time. He'll spend most of today hunting by himself. Tonight he'll send out his call. Tomorrow they'll spend getting together. And day after tomorrow in the morning he'll be ready to send out his search parties. I've seen him work that way before. But when he sends 'em out, well already be snaking south for the railroad, hit it, and slide off east! Ronicky, for the first time in his life Moon is going to be beat! Not a chance in a million that he'll ever connect me up with the old Cosslett treasure. Not a chance that he'll think I'm hunting for it. He'll figure me to be lying out in the hills waiting for a few days. And he'll comb the country around Trainor before he steps out farther."

  The matter was allowed to rest there. Before the shack of Cosslett they built a fire of the wood which had been torn from the little veranda floor, and there they cooked their evening meal.

  It was dark before they had ended. Afterward they went inside the shack. It was possible to clear the bunk and prop up its broken side after removing the fallen rafter. That made a comfortable bed for the girl. As for Ronicky and Hugh Dawn, they would sleep on the floor.

  In the meantime, after putting down their blankets, Ronicky declared his intention of taking a ride on Lou by way of a nightcap. For he declared that he could not possibly sleep so soon after their rest of the midday. Father and daughter had too much to talk over to object strenuously. And a moment later he left the cabin. They heard his mare whinny a greeting to him, and then the roll of her gallop passed down the hill and out of hearing. Hugh Dawn listened to the disappearing sound, his head cocked upon one side.

  "There," he said, "goes a queer one!"

  "Queer?" echoed Jerry, with a distinct lack of enthusiasm.

  "That's what I said. Never saw the like of him yet, and I've seen a pile of men, rough and smooth and all kinds."

  "Of all the kinds I've known," said his daughter hotly, "he's the the finest, the bravest, the most generous."

  "Sure, sure! He's all of that and more. I'm not holding it against him. But he's a wild one, if ever I saw a man!"

  "Wild?"

  "What d'you call it when a fellow hears news about somebody he's never heard mentioned before, and then rides twenty miles and takes his life in his hands to give a warning?"

  "You haven't told me yet so many things have been happening how you came to catch him in the hall of the house."

  "I was at the window in the hall. I saw Ronicky climb up the side of the house, but the distance and the dark made it a hard job to shoot from where I was, even though I was sure that he was one of Moon's men come for me. I sneaked around into the place in front of the stairs where they turn into the hall on the second floor, and when he came down I flashed the electric torch at him and shot. How I missed, I don't know. But he changed into a wild cat the minute the light hit him. He jumped here and there like a flash, and before I could land him he swung on me and knocked me out. Where he got the muscle to do it out of those skinny arms of his, beats me; but it ain't the only thing about him that beats me. Look at the way he talks to his hoss like she was human. Look at the way he goes off riding alone by night!"

  "I can understand everything you mention," replied his daughter.

  "Sure you can," and Hugh Dawn grinned. "That's because he's smiled at you a couple of times today."

  "Do you mean to infer " began Jerry.

  "Don't be proud," chuckled her father.

  "I never heard of anything so absurd," said Jerry indignantly. "Why, I I don't know the man! He's a stranger!"

  "Sure. That's why you're blushing like this. You are your mother all over again, my dear, and she was always forming quick likes and dislikes. Heaven bless her! But me, I take more time to think things and folks over. You'll find out that it pays, Jerry, in the long run."

  "I don't know what all the talk's about," said the girl a trifle uneasily. "If you think that I've been forward with Mr. Doone "

  "There you go!" Her father laughed as he spoke. "I will ask you to stop climbing mountains, and you jump over a cliff instead. I don't mean nothing, except for you to watch your ways with Ronicky. You ain't an ordinary girl, Jerry, dear. You got more looks than most. Not that you're the most beautiful I ever seen, but you got a downright pleasing way, and when you smile your whole face lights up a lot."

  "Of course all this is absurd," said Jerry. "But if I choose to be courteous to a man who saved your life both our lives, perhaps is there anything wrong in it?"

  "Courtesy is one thing; it ain't what I'm talking about," said her father gravely.

  "And the other thing?"

  "Well, Jerry, I'd a pile rather see you dead than get seriously interested in a gent like Ronicky Doone."

  She stared at him, almost frightened.

  "I see," said he, very grave, "that you've been thinking even more than I suspected."

  "Dad," she cried, "this is insufferable. Oblique expressions like these only serve to "

  "Tie them big words up, brand 'em, and keep 'em for the fancy markets," said her father gruffly. "I don't foller 'em easy. Talk plain. I'm a plain man. And I tell you plainly that I love you too much to see you throw away time on one like Doone. For why? Because he's a will-o'-the-wisp, my dear. He's one of these gents who go through life without ever settling down to one thing. He's about what? Twenty-five, I'd take him to be. Well, Jerry, he's crammed ten times more fighting inside his twenty-five years than I've put inside forty-five. A fighting man is like a fighting wolf they'd better hunt alone!"

  "You don't mean," she said, "that he's a gun fighter!"

  "Don't I? Wel
l, honey, you got to learn to use your eyes! What does it mean when a gent carries his holster slung away down low on his right hip so's it's just within twitching distance of his finger tips? Ain't that to have it ready for a fast draw? And what does it mean when a gent's left hand is all pale from being in a glove, and when his right hand is brown as a berry?"

  "Because the left hand is the bridle hand."

  "Because the right hand is the gun hand, Jerry!"

  She winced at his surety.

  "I'm as sure of it," said her father, blowing a great cloud of smoke from his pipe, "as I am that my name is Hugh Dawn. And watch his hands. Long and slender and nervous. No flesh on 'em. He's never made a living by work. No calluses on those hands. Nothing to keep them from being fast as a flash of light like the hands of a musician, they look to me. Always doing something with that right hand of his. His left hand is used to hanging steady on the reins, and it's always lying still. But his right hand ain't never still. It's always jumping about and rapping on something, or going here and there and everywhere just for the sake of being under way. I'll tell you why: Because that's the right hand that's saved the life of Ronicky Doone more'n once! It's the hand that's got his trigger finger! It's his fortune!"

  "You mean," breathed the girl, "that he's a professional gunman a murderer?"

  "Not a bit! He wouldn't take advantage of his skill with a gun not to hurt anybody. But I'll wager he's got his man before now. I'll wager that before he dies he'll get a pile more. It's wrote in big letters all over him."

  "He'll change," said Jerry Dawn feverishly. "I know that he'll change!"

  "Maybe you could do the changing?" said her father.

  Her flush was at least a partial admission that she had had the thought.

  "Some girls," said he, "are so plumb good that they marry a man for the sake of being close to him and reforming him. Sometimes they do. Ronicky Doone is a fine gent. Brave, honest as the day's long, generous. But he ain't meant for a girl to love. I'm putting it strong. I don't mean that you feel anything like that for him yet. I'm just warning you. Because if you just give a gent like that a kind look, you may set him on fire; he starts making love like a fire in a storm; first thing you know, you're engaged. And that's the end. Jerry, you'll watch out?"