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// 20160426130558castlemon
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.dt Snagged and Sunk, or, The Adventures of a Canvas Canoe, by Harry Castlemon
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Transcriber’s Note:
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.ca Ralph finds the stolen guns.
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FOREST AND STREAM SERIES.
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SNAGGED AND SUNK;|OR, THE|ADVENTURES OF A CANVAS CANOE.
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BY
HARRY CASTLEMON,
AUTHOR OF “GUNBOAT SERIES,” “ROCKY MOUNTAIN
SERIES,” “SPORTSMAN CLUB SERIES,” ETC.
.nf-
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PHILADELPHIA
HENRY T. COATES & CO.
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FAMOUS CASTLEMON BOOKS.
.hr 30%
GUNBOAT SERIES. By Harry Castlemon. 6 vols. 12mo.
.ta l:35 l:35
Frank the Young Naturalist. | Frank on a Gunboat.
Frank in the Woods. | Frank before Vicksburg.
Frank on the Lower Mississippi. | Frank on the Prairie.
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.sp 2
.in 2
.ti -2
ROCKY MOUNTAIN SERIES. By Harry Castlemon. 3 vols. 12mo.
Cloth.
.in
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Frank among the Rancheros. | Frank at Don Carlos’ Ranch.
Frank in the Mountains. |
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.in 2
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SPORTSMAN’S CLUB SERIES. By Harry Castlemon. 3 vols. 12mo.
Cloth.
.in
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The Sportsman’s Club in the Saddle. | The Sportsman’s Club among the Trappers.
The Sportsman’s Club Afloat. |
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.in 2
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FRANK NELSON SERIES. By Harry Castlemon. 3 vols. 12mo.
Cloth.
.in
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Snowed Up. | The Boy Traders.| Frank in the Forecastle.
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.sp 2
BOY TRAPPER SERIES. By Harry Castlemon. 3 vols. 12mo. Cloth.
.ta l:22 l:22 l:22
The Buried Treasure. | The Boy Trapper. | The Mail-Carrier.
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.sp 2
.in 2
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ROUGHING IT SERIES. By Harry Castlemon. 3 vols. 12mo. Cloth.
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George in Camp. |George at the Wheel. | George at the Fort.
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.sp 2
.in 2
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ROD AND GUN SERIES. By Harry Castlemon. 3 vols. 12mo. Cloth.
.in
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Don Gordon’s Shooting Box. | Rod and Gun Club.
The Young Wild Fowlers. |
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.in 2
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GO-AHEAD SERIES. By Harry Castlemon. 3 vols. l2mo. Cloth.
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Tom Newcombe. | Go-Ahead. | No Moss.
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FOREST AND STREAM SERIES. By Harry Castlemon. 3 vols. 12mo.
Cloth.
.ta l:22 l:22 l:25
Joe Wayring. | Snagged and Sunk. | Steel Horse.
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.sp 2
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WAR SERIES. By Harry Castlemon. 5 vols. 12mo. Cloth.
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True to his Colors. | Rodney the Partisan.
Rodney the Overseer.| Marcy the Blockade-Runner.
Marcy the Refugee. |
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Other Volumes in Preparation.
.hr 100%
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Copyright, 1888, by Porter & Coates.
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.h2
CONTENTS.
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CHAPTER| | PAGE
I.| In which I begin my Story, | #5#
II.| Captured Again, | #28#
III.| In the Watchman’s Cabin, | #52#
IV.| A Night Adventure, | #74#
V.| Jake Coyle’s Silver Mine, | #98#
VI.| Jake Works his Mine, | #120#
VII.| Among Friends Again, | #142#
VIII.| Joe Wayring in Trouble, | #166#
IX.| Tom Visits the Hatchery, | #192#
X.| More Trouble for Tom Bigden, | #217#
XI.| Sam on the Trail, | #242#
XII.| About Various Things, | #265#
XIII.| Joe Wayring’s Pluck, | #289#
XIV. |The Guide “Surrounds” Matt’s Camp, | #314#
XV. |On the Right Track at Last, | #338#
XVI. |At the Bottom of the River, | #363#
XVII.| The Expert Columbia, | #381#
XVIII.| Conclusion, | #398#
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SNAGGED AND SUNK;
OR,
THE ADVENTURES OF A CANVAS CANOE.
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.sp 4
.h2 nobreak
CHAPTER I. | IN WHICH I BEGIN MY STORY.
.pm start_poem
“Beneath a hemlock grim and dark,
Where shrub and vine are intertwining,
Our shanty stands, well roofed with bark,
On which the cheerful blaze is shining.
The smoke ascends in spiral wreath;
With upward curve the sparks are trending;
The coffee kettle sings beneath
Where sparks and smoke with leaves are blending.”
.pm end_poem
.sp 2
Joe Wayring’s voice rang out loud and
clear, and the words of his song were
repeated by the echoes from a dozen different
points among the hills by which the camp was
surrounded on every side. Joe was putting
the finishing touches to the roof of a bark
.bn 007.png
.pn +1
shanty; Roy Sheldon, with the aid of a double-bladed
camp ax, was cutting a supply of hard
wood to cook the trout he had just cleaned;
and Arthur Hastings was sitting close by picking
browse for the beds. The scene of their
camp was a spring-hole, located deep in the
forest twelve miles from Indian Lake.
Although it was a noted place for trout, it was
seldom visited by the guests of the hotels for
the simple reason that they did not know that
there was such a spring-hole in existence, and
the guides were much too sharp to tell them
of it.
Hotel guides, as a class, are not fond of
work, and neither will they take a guest very
far beyond the sound of their employer’s dinner
horn. The landlords hire them by the
month and the guides get just so much money,
no matter whether their services are called
into requisition or not. If business is dull
and the guests few in number, the guides loaf
around the hotel in idleness, and of course the
less they do the less they are inclined to do.
If they are sent out with a guest, they take
him over grounds that have been hunted and
.bn 008.png
.pn +1
fished until there is neither fur, fin, nor feather
left, cling closely to the water-ways, avoiding
even the shortest “carries,” their sole
object being to earn their wages with the
least possible exertion. They don’t care
whether the guest catches any fish or not.
But our three friends, Joe Wayring, Roy
Sheldon, and Arthur Hastings, were not dependent
upon the hotel guides for sport during
their summer outings. Being perfectly familiar
with the country for miles around Indian
Lake, they went wherever their fancy led
them, and with no fear of getting lost.
.pm start_poem
“And on the stream a light canoe
Floats like a freshly fallen feather—
A fairy thing that will not do
For broader seas and stormy weather.
Her sides no thicker than the shell
Of Ole Bull’s Cremona fiddle;
The man who rides her will do well
To part his scalp-lock in the middle,”
.pm end_poem
sang Joe, backing off and looking approvingly
at his work. “There, fellows, that roof is
tight, and now it can rain as soon as it pleases.
With two acres of trout right in front of the
.bn 009.png
.pn +1
door, and a camp located so far from the lake
that we are not likely to be disturbed by any
interlopers—what more could three boys who
want to be lazy ask for?”
“There’s one thing I would like to ask for,”
replied Roy, “and that is the assurance that
Tom Bigden and his cousins will go back to
Mount Airy without trying to come any tricks
on us. I wonder what brought them up here
any way?”
“Why, they came after their rods, of
course,” answered Arthur. “You know I
sent them a despatch stating that their rods
were in Mr. Hanson’s possession, and that
they could get them by refunding the money
that Hanson had paid Jake Coyle for them.”
“But they have been loafing around the
lake for a whole week, doing nothing but holding
stolen interviews with Matt Coyle and his
boys,” said Roy. “I tell you I don’t like
the way those worthies put their heads
together. I believe they are in ca-hoots. If
they are not, how does it come that Tom and
his cousins can see Matt as often as they want
to, while the guides and landlords, who are so
.bn 010.png
.pn +1
very anxious to have him arrested, can not
find him or obtain any satisfactory news of
him?”
“That’s the very reason they can’t find him—because
they want to have him arrested, and
Matt knows it,” observed Joe. “But why
Tom doesn’t reveal Matt’s hiding-place to the
constable is more than I can understand. Did
it ever occur to you that perhaps Matt has
some sort of a hold on those boys, and that
they are afraid to go against him?”
“I have thought of it,” replied Arthur. “I
have never been able to get it out of my head
that Tom acted suspiciously on the day your
canvas canoe was stolen. He played his part
pretty well, but I believed then, and I believe
now, that he knew that canoe was gone before
he came back to the beach.”
“I know Tom didn’t show much enthusiasm
when we started after that bear, and that he
did not go very far from the pond,” assented
Joe. “It is possible that he saw Matt steal
my canoe, and that he made no effort to stop
him; but I think you are mistaken when you
say that they are in ca-hoots. I don’t believe
.bn 011.png
.pn +1
they have any thing in common. Tom is much
too high-toned for that. I know that he has
been seen in Matt’s company a time or two,
but I am of the opinion that they met by accident
and not by appointment.”
“But Tom knew the officers were looking
for Matt, and what was the reason he didn’t
tell them that he had seen him?” demanded
Arthur.
“He probably would if he hadn’t thought
that we were the ones that wanted him arrested,”
replied Joe. “Tom and his cousins do not
like us, and Matt Coyle might steal us poor, and
they would never lift a hand or say a word
to prevent it. But we are safe from them now.
Even if they knew where to find us, Matt and
his boys are much too lazy to walk twelve miles
through the thick woods just to get into a fight
with us.”
Perhaps they were, and perhaps they were
not. Time will show.
If you have read the first volume of the “Forest
and Stream Series,” you will recollect that
the story it contained was told by “Old Durability,”
Joe Wayring’s Fly-rod. In concluding
.bn 012.png
.pn +1
his interesting narrative, Fly-rod said that
he would step aside and give place to his
“accommodating friend,” the Canvas Canoe,
who, in the second volume of the series, would
describe some of the incidents that came under
his notice while he was a prisoner in the bands
of the Indian Lake vagabonds, Matt Coyle and
his two worthless boys, Jake and Sam. I am
the Canvas Canoe, at your service, and I am
now ready to redeem that promise.
You will remember that the last duty I performed
for my master, Joe Wayring, was to
take him and Fly-rod up to the “little perch
hole,” leaving Arthur Hastings and Roy Sheldon
in the pond to angle for black bass. Joe
preferred to fish for perch, because he was
afraid to trust his light tackle in a struggle
with so gamey a foe as a bass; but, as luck
would have it, he struck one the very first cast
he made, and got into a fight that was enough
to make any angler’s nerves thrill with excitement.
The battle lasted half an hour; and when it
was over and the fish safely landed, Joe discovered
that it was growing dark. While he
.bn 013.png
.pn +1
was putting Fly-rod away in his case I happened
to look up the creek, and what should I
see there but the most disreputable looking
scow I ever laid my eyes on? I had never seen
him before, but I knew the crew he carried, for
I had had considerable experience with them.
They were the squatter and his boys, who, as
you know, had sworn vengeance against Joe
Wayring and his friends, because Joe’s father
would not permit them to live on his land.
Matt and his young allies discovered Joe
before the latter saw them, and made an effort
to steal alongside and capture him before
he knew that there was any danger near; but
one of the impatient boys carelessly allowed his
paddle to rub against the side of the scow, and
the sound alarmed Joe, who at once took to the
water and struck out for shore, leaving me
to my fate. But I never blamed Joe for that,
because I knew he could not have done any
thing else. He had paid out a good deal of
rope in order to place himself in the best position
for casting, and he could not haul it in
and raise the anchor before his enemies would
be upon him.
.bn 014.png
.pn +1
“So that’s your game, is it?” shouted the
squatter, when he saw Joe pulling for the
shore with long lusty strokes. “Wal, it suits
us I reckon. Never mind the boat, Jakey.
She’s fast anchored and will stay there till we
want her. Take after the ’ristocrat whose dad
won’t let honest folks live onto his land less’n
they’ve got a pocketful of money to pay him
for it. Jest let me get a good whack at him
with my paddle, an’ he’ll stop, I bet you.”
Now we know that Matt didn’t tell the
truth when he said that Joe Wayring’s father
would not let any one live on his land except
those who had money to pay for the privilege.
Mr. Wayring was one of the most liberal citizens
in Mount Airy. Nearly all the men who
were employed as guides and boatmen by the
summer visitors lived in neat little cottages
that he had built on purpose for them, and for
which he never charged them a cent of rent;
and when Matt Coyle and his family came into
the lake with a punt load of goods, and took
possession of one of his lots, and proceeded to
erect a shanty upon it without asking his permission,
Mr. Wayring did not utter one word of
.bn 015.png
.pn +1
protest. It is true that he was not very favorably
impressed with the appearance of the
new-comers, but he thought he would give them
an opportunity to show what they were before
he ordered them off his grounds. If they proved
to be honest, hard-working people they might
stay and welcome, and he would treat them as
well as he treated the other inhabitants of
“Stumptown.”
But it turned out that Matt Coyle was
neither honest nor hard-working. He had
once been a hanger-on about the hotels at Indian
Lake. He called himself an independent
guide (neither of the hotels would have any
thing to do with him), but, truth to tell, he did
not do much guiding. He gained a precarious
subsistence by hunting, trapping, fishing, and
stealing. It was easier to steal a living than
it was to earn it by hunting and trapping, and
Matt’s depredations finally became so numerous
and daring that the guides hunted him
down as they would a bear or a wolf that had
preyed upon their sheep-folds, and when they
caught him ordered him out of the country.
To make sure of his going they destroyed
.bn 016.png
.pn +1
every article of his property that they could
get their hands on, thus forcing him, as one
of the guides remarked, to go off somewhere
and steal a new outfit.
Where Matt and his enterprising family
went after that no one knew. They disappeared,
and for a few weeks were neither seen
nor heard of; but in due time they rowed their
punt into Mirror Lake, as I have recorded, and
Matt and his boys at once sought employment
as guides and boatmen. But here again they
were doomed to disappointment. The managers
of the different hotels saw at a glance that they
were not proper persons to be trusted on the lake
with a boatload of women and children, and
told them very decidedly that their services
were not needed. The truth was they drank
more whisky than water, and guides of that
sort were not wanted in Mount Airy.
Matt and his boys next tried fishing as a
means of earning a livelihood; but no one
could have made his salt at that, because the
guests sojourning at the hotels and boarding
houses, with the assistance of the regular
guides, kept all the tables abundantly supplied.
.bn 017.png
.pn +1
This second failure made the squatters
angry, and they concluded that affairs about
Mount Airy were not properly managed, and
they would “run the town” to suit themselves.
But they could not do that either, for they
were promptly arrested and thrust into the
calaboose.
After they had been put in there twice, the
trustees concluded that they were of no use in
Mount Airy, and that they had better go somewhere
else. Accordingly Matt received a notice
to pull down his shanty and clear out.
The officer who was intrusted with the writ
had considerable trouble in serving it, but he
had more in compelling the squatter to vacate
the lot of which he had taken unauthorized
possession. Matt and his boys showed fight,
while the old woman, who, to quote from Frank
Noble, “proved to be the best man in
the party,” threw hot water about in the most
reckless fashion. After a spirited battle the
representatives of law and order came off victoriously,
and Matt and his belongings were
tumbled unceremoniously into the punt and
shoved out into the lake. This made them
.bn 018.png
.pn +1
almost frantic; and before they pulled away
they uttered the most direful threats against
those who had been instrumental in driving
them out of Mount Airy “because they were
poor and didn’t have no good clothes to wear,”
and they even went so far as to threaten to
burn Mr. Wayring’s house. But you will remember
that it was Tom Bigden, a boy who
hated Joe for just nothing at all, who put that
idea into Matt’s head.
Being once more adrift in the world, the
squatter made the best of his way to Sherwin’s
pond to carry out certain other plans that
had been suggested to him by that same Tom
Bigden, who never could be easy unless he was
getting himself or somebody else into trouble.
Between the lake and the pond there were
twelve miles of rapids. Having run them scores
of times under the skillful guidance of my master,
I may be supposed to be tolerably familiar
with them, and to this day I can not understand
how Matt ever succeeded in getting his
clumsy old punt to the bottom of them in
safety. He must have had a hard time of it,
for the bow of his craft was so badly battered
.bn 019.png
.pn +1
by the rocks that it was a mystery how he ever
took it across the pond and up the creek to
the place where he made his temporary camp.
With his usual caution he concealed his shanty
in a grove of evergreens, and waited as patiently
as he could for something to “turn
up.” Tom Bigden had assured him that
he could make plenty of money by simply
keeping his eyes open, but Matt did not find
it so.
“I don’t b’lieve that ’ristocrat knew what
he was talkin’ about when he said that some
of them sailboats up there in the lake would
be sure to break loose, an’ that I could make
money by ketchin’ ’em as they come through
the rapids, an’ givin’ ’em up to their owners,”
said the squatter one day, when his supply of
corn meal and potatoes began to show signs
of giving out. “There ain’t nary one of ’em
broke loose yet, an’ if any one of them
p’inters an’ hound dogs that we’ve heared
givin’ tongue in the woods ever lost their
bearin’s I don’ know it, fur they never come
nigh me.”
“He said that if the things he was talkin’
.bn 020.png
.pn +1
about didn’t happen of theirselves, he’d make
’em happen,“ suggested Jake.
“What do you reckon he meant by that?”
“Why, it was a hint to you to go up to the
lake some dark night, an’ turn the boats loose,”
replied Jake. “Then they’d come down, an’
we could ketch ’em an’ hold fast to ’em till
we was offered a reward fur givin’ ’em up.
But, pap, since I’ve seed them rapids, I don’t
b’lieve that no livin’ boat could ever come
through ’em without smashin’ herself all to
pieces, less’n there was somebody aboard of
her to keep her off’n the rocks.”
“No more do I,” answered Matt, “an’ I
shan’t bother with ’em, nuther. I ain’t forgot
that they’ve got a calaboose up there to Mount
Airy, an’ that they’d jest as soon shove a feller
into it as not. But something has got to be
done, or else we’ll go hungry for want of grub
to eat.”
So saying, Matt shouldered his rifle, and set
out to hunt up his dinner, and on the same
day Joe Wayring and his two chums, accompanied
by Tom Bigden, and his cousins, Ralph
and Loren Farnsworth, ran the rapids into
.bn 021.png
.pn +1
Sherwin’s Pond, to fish for bass. They caught
a fine string, as every one did who went there,
and were talking about going ashore to cook
their breakfast, when they discovered a half-grown
bear on the shore of the pond. Of
course they made haste to start in pursuit of
him—all except Tom Bigden. The latter told
himself that the bear did not belong to him, that
it was no concern of his whether he were
killed or not, and sat down on a log and
fought musquitoes while waiting for Joe and
the rest to tire themselves out in the chase
and come back.
Now Matt Coyle had his eye on that bear, and
wanted to shoot him too, for, as I have said,
his larder was nearly empty. He was ready to
do something desperate when he saw Joe and
his companions paddle ashore and frighten the
game, but presently it occurred to him that
he might profit by it. He knew that the boys
would never have come so far from home without
bringing a substantial lunch with them,
and as they had left their canoes unguarded
on the beach, what was there to hinder him
from sneaking up through the bushes and
.bn 022.png
.pn +1
stealing that lunch? Turn about was fair play.
And, while he was about it, what was there to
prevent him from taking his pick of the
canoes? Then he would have something to
work with. He could go up to Indian Lake
and make another effort to establish himself
there as independent guide; and, if he failed
to accomplish his object, he could paddle
about in his canoe, rob every unguarded camp
he could find, and make the sportsmen who
came there for recreation so sick of those
woods that they would never visit them again.
In that way he could ruin the hotels as well
as the guides who were so hostile to him. It
was a glorious plan, Matt told himself, and
while he was turning it over in his mind he
suddenly found himself face to face with Tom
Bigden.
You know the conversation that passed between
these two worthies, and remember how
artfully Tom went to work to increase the
unreasonable enmity which Matt Coyle cherished
against Joe Wayring. After taking
leave of Tom, the squatter plundered all the
canoes that were drawn up beside me on the
.bn 023.png
.pn +1
beach, first making sure of the baskets and
bundles that contained the lunches, gave them
all into my keeping, and shoved out into the
pond with me. If I had possessed the power
wouldn’t I have turned him overboard in short
order? Matt was so clumsy and awkward
that I was in hopes he would capsize me and
spill himself out; but, although he could not
make me ride on an even keel, he managed
to keep me right side up, and, much to my
disgust, I carried him safely across the pond
and up the creek to his shanty.
As the squatter was impatient to begin the
business of guiding so that he could make some
money before the season was over, and anxious
to get beyond reach of the officers of the law
who would soon be on his track, he lost no
time in breaking camp and setting out for
Indian Lake. Before he went he burned his
shanty and punt, so that the Mount Airy
sportsmen could not find shelter in the one or
use the other in fishing in the pond. He spent
half an hour in trying to take me to pieces, so
that he could carry me in his hand as if I were
a valise, and finally giving it up as a task beyond
.bn 024.png
.pn +1
his powers, he raised me to his shoulder
and fell in behind his wife and boys, who led
the way toward Indian Lake.
During the short time I remained in Matt
Coyle’s possession I fared well enough, for I
was too valuable an article to be maltreated;
but I despised the company I was obliged to
keep and the work I was expected to do.
Matt’s first care was to lay in a supply of provisions
for the use of his family; and as he
had no money at his command and no immediate
prospect of earning any, of course he
expected to steal every thing he wanted. This
was not a difficult task, for long experience
had made him and his boys expert in the line
of foraging. Nearly all the guides cultivated
little patches of ground and raised a few pigs
and chickens, and when their duties called
them away from home there was no one left
to guard their property except their wives
and children. The latter could not stand watch
day and night, and consequently it was no
trouble at all for Matt and his hopeful sons to
rob a hen-roost or a smokehouse as often as
they felt like it. But, as it happened, the very
.bn 025.png
.pn +1
first foraging expedition he sent out, after he
made his new camp about two miles from Indian
Lake, resulted most disastrously for Matt
Coyle. He ordered Jake and me to forage on
Mr. Swan, the genial, big-hearted guide of whom
you may have heard something in “The Story
of a Fly-rod;” or, rather, Jake was to do the
stealing, and I was to bring back the plunder
he secured.
The young scapegrace had no difficulty in
getting hold of a side of bacon and filling a
bag with potatoes, which he dug from the soil
with his hands, but there his good fortune
ended. While he was making his way up the
creek toward home, he was discovered by Joe
Wayring and his two friends, Roy and Arthur,
who were going to Indian Lake for their usual
summer’s outing. Of course they at once made
a determined effort to recapture me, and Jake
in his mad struggle to escape ran me upon a
snag and sunk me, thus putting it out of his
father’s power to go into the business of independent
guiding. The fights that grew out of
that night’s work were numerous and desperate,
and Matt declared that he would “even
.bn 026.png
.pn +1
up” with the boys if he had to wait ten years
for a chance to do it.
It was the work of but a few moments for
my master, with the aid of his friends, to bring
me back to the surface of the water where I
belonged. He took me home with him when
his outing was over, and there I lived during
the winter in comparative quiet, while Joe and
his chums were made the victims of so many
petty annoyances that it was a wonder to me
how they kept their temper as well as they
did. Matt Coyle and his boys could not do
any thing to trouble them, because they were
afraid to show themselves about the village;
but Tom Bigden and his cousins were alert and
active. They bothered Joe in every conceivable
way. They made a lifelong enemy of
Mars by sending him home through the streets
with a tin can tied to his tail; they shot at
Roy Sheldon’s tame pigeons as often as the
birds ventured within range of their long bows;
they overturned Joe’s sailboat after he had
hauled it out on the beach and housed it for
the winter; and one night I heard them talk
seriously of setting fire to the boathouse.
.bn 027.png
.pn +1
Loren and Ralph Farnsworth, however, were
not willing to go as far as that, knowing, as
they did, that arson was a State’s prison
offense, but they agreed to Tom’s proposition
to break into the boathouse and carry off
“that old canvas canoe that Joe seemed to
think so much of,” because they could do as
much mischief of that sort as they pleased,
and no blame would be attached to them. It
would all be laid at Matt Coyle’s door.
If I had been able to speak to him I would
have told Tom that he was mistaken when he
said this, for Joe Wayring knew well enough
whom he had to thank for every thing that
happened to him that winter. Tom and his
allies forgot that their foot prints in the snow
and the marks of their skates on the ice were,
as Roy expressed it, “a dead give away.”
Joe, however, did not say or do any thing to
show that he suspected Tom, for he was a boy
who liked to live in peace with every body;
but when he came down to the boathouse the
next morning and found that some one had
been tampering with the fastenings of the
door, he took me on his shoulder and carried
.bn 028.png
.pn +1
me to his room, where I remained until the
winter was passed and the boating season
opened.
In the meantime I made the acquaintance of
Fly-rod, who has told you a portion of my history,
and who was as green a specimen as I
ever met; but what else could you expect of a
fellow who had never seen any thing of the
world or caught a fish! A few Saturdays
spent at the spring-holes and along the banks
of the trout streams proved him to be a strong,
reliable rod, and by the time the summer
vacation came Joe had learned to put a good
deal of confidence in him. One of the most
noteworthy exploits Fly-rod ever performed
was capturing that big bass at the perch-hole.
That was on the day that Matt Coyle and his
boys came down the creek in their scow and
made a captive of me and chased my master
through the woods; and this brings me back
to my story.
.bn 029.png
.pn +1
.sp 4
.h2
CHAPTER II. | CAPTURED AGAIN.
.sp 2
I need not assure you that I was deeply
interested in the exciting scene that was
enacted before me. I rode helplessly at my
moorings and watched Joe Wayring as he
swam down the stream with his sturdiest
strokes to get clear of the lily-pads before attempting
a landing, and then I turned my attention
to Matt Coyle and his boys, who had
come to grief in their efforts to force their way
to the shore.
“Back out!” shouted Matt, when he found
that his scow could neither ride over or break
through the strong, tangled stems of the lily-pads.
“Be in a hurry, or he’ll get sich a
start on us that we can’t never ketch him.”
And then he swung his heavy paddle around
his head and threw it at Joe, just as the latter
crawled out upon the bank.
.bn 030.png
.pn +1
Joe saw the missile coming toward him, and
when it struck the ground he caught it up
and threw it back. He didn’t hit Matt, as he
meant to do, but he struck Jake such a stunning
blow in the face that the boy could take
no part in the pursuit that followed. It came
pretty near knocking him overboard. I would
have laughed if I could, but I did not feel so
jubilant when I heard Matt say:
“Sam, you an’ Jakey get into the canoe an’
paddle down the pond so’s to cut him off when
he tries to swim off to the skiff.”
In obedience to these instructions the two
boys took possession of me, hauled up the
anchor, and paddled swiftly down the creek,
while Matt kept on after Joe, who was running
through the woods like a frightened deer.
When we came out into the pond I saw him
standing on the bank beckoning to Arthur and
Roy, who lost no time in bringing the skiff to
his relief. I saw Joe run into the water and
strike out to meet them, and I also heard him
say:
“Boys, never mind me. I’ve got my second
wind now and can swim for an hour. Go up
.bn 031.png
.pn +1
there and capture my canoe, or else run over
him and send him to the bottom. Don’t let
those villains take him away from me again.”
But Arthur and Roy did not think it best
to act upon this suggestion until they had
taken care of Joe; and by the time they had
got him into the skiff it was too late for them
to do any thing for me; for Jake and his
brother had put themselves out of harm’s way
by pulling for the shore, where Matt was waiting
for them. When they reached it they
lifted me from the water and carried me so far
into the bushes that they knew Joe and his
friends would not dare follow them, and then
each of them sheltered himself behind a tree.
Matt and his boys were afraid of Roy Sheldon,
who was a swift and accurate thrower, and
when the latter rose to his feet to see what
they had done with me they thought he was
about to open fire on them with potatoes, as
he had done once or twice before.
“I’m onto your little game,” shouted the
squatter, peeping out from behind his tree
and shaking his fist at the boys in the skiff.
“You don’t fire no more taters at me if I
.bn 032.png
.pn +1
know it. Your boat is here, an’ if you want
it wusser’n we do, come an’ get it. ’Tain’t
much account nohow. Now then,” added
Matt, as he saw the boys turn their skiff about
and pull back toward the other side of the
pond, “ketch hold of this canoe, all of us,
an’ we’ll tote him up to the creek.”
“Say, pap,” Sam interposed, “why don’t
we foller ’em over there an’ gobble up their
other boat an’ bust up their things?”
“That’s what I say,” groaned Jake, who
wanted revenge for the stinging blow that Joe
had given him with Matt’s paddle. “We’re
better men than they ever dare be. I shan’t
rest easy till I larrup that Joe Wayring.”
“Now jest listen at the two fules!” exclaimed
the squatter, in a tone of disgust.
“Have you forgot the peltin’ they give us
with our own taters last summer? ’Pears to
me that you hadn’t oughter forget it, Jakey,
’cause when you got that whack in the stummik
you raised sich a hollerin’ that you could
have been heared clear up to Injun Lake.
Seems as though I could feel that bump yet,”
added Matt, passing a brawny fist over his
.bn 033.png
.pn +1
cheek where a potato, thrown by Arthur
Hastings’ hand, had left a black and blue
spot as large as a hen’s egg. “We’ll wait till
they get camped for the night, an’ then we’ll
go over there an’ steal ourselves rich.”
If Matt had taken another look at the boys
instead of being in such haste to carry me up
to the creek, he never would have thought
seriously of making a night attack upon their
camp. Joe and his friends had received a
reinforcement in the person of Mr. Swan, a
hotel guide whom Matt Coyle had good reason
to remember. The guide had taken an active
part in driving him and his vagabond crew
out of the Indian Lake country, and he was
looking for him when he met Joe and his
chums. But Matt, believing that the boys
had no one to depend on but themselves, was
sure that by a stealthy approach and quick
assault he could wipe out all old scores and
enrich himself without incurring the smallest
risk, and he and his allies grew enthusiastic
while they talked about the great things they
meant to do that night.
During the progress of their conversation I
.bn 034.png
.pn +1
learned, for the first time, what had become of
the rods and reels that Matt stole from Joe
and his party in Sherwin’s pond. Jake, who
acted as his father’s agent, had sold them to
Mr. Hanson, the landlord of the Sportsman’s
Home, for four dollars apiece—all except the
one belonging to Arthur Hastings, which Jake
affirmed had been broken by a black bass.
For that he received two dollars. I learned,
further, that Matt had failed again in his
efforts to find employment as guide for the
Indian Lake country. The hotels would not
hire him, and neither would the guests to
whom he offered his services. This left Matt
but one resource, and that was to carry out
his oft-repeated threat that if he couldn’t act
as guide about that lake nobody should. He
had already robbed three camps, and he had
the satisfaction of knowing that by doing it
he had created great consternation among the
summer visitors. The ladies protested that
they could never think of going into the
woods again as long as that horrid man was
about, and the sportsmen who had suffered at
his hands told their landlords very plainly
.bn 035.png
.pn +1
that they would not come near Indian Lake
again until they were assured that Matt Coyle
had been arrested and lodged in jail.
“They’re afeared of me, them folks up
there to the lake be,” chuckled the squatter,
who was highly elated over the success of the
plan he had adopted for ruining the hotels and
breaking up the business of guiding. “I
would have worked hard an’ faithful for ’em
if they had give me a chance to make an
honest livin’; but they wouldn’t do it, ’cause
I didn’t have no good clothes to wear, an’ now
they see what they have gained by their meanness.
I won’t be starved to death, an’ that’s
jest all there is about it.”
“Say, pap, what be you goin’ to do with
them two fine guns that’s hid up there in the
bresh?” inquired Sam.
“I ain’t a-goin’ to do nothin’ with ’em,”
was the reply.
“Then why can’t me an’ Jake have ’em?”
“Now jest listen at the blockhead!” Matt
almost shouted. “Ain’t you got sense enough
to know that if a guide should happen to ketch
you runnin’ about the woods with one of them
.bn 036.png
.pn +1
guns in your hands you would be ’rested an’
locked up for a thief? I didn’t take them
guns ’cause I wanted ’em, but jest to drive
them city sportsmen away from here. They
ain’t goin’ to bring fine things into these
woods when they know that they stand a
chance of losin’ ’em. An’ if there ain’t no
guests to come here, what’s the guides an’
landlords goin’ to do to make a livin’?”
“I’ve made a heap of money for you, pap,
by sellin’ them fish-poles an’ takin’ back the
scatter-gun you hooked outen one of them
camps, an’ you ain’t never give me nothin’
for it,” said Jake. “I reckon it’s about time
you was settlin’ up.”
“All right, I’ll settle up with you this very
minute,” answered his father, cheerfully.
“You can have this here canvas canoe for your
own. Does that squar’ accounts betwixt us?”
It wouldn’t if I had had a voice in the matter,
or possessed the power to protect myself;
but I was helpless, and from that moment Jake
claimed me as his property. He agreed, however,
to lend me to his father as often as the
latter thought it safe to go prospecting for unguarded
.bn 037.png
.pn +1
camps. Half an hour later I was
floating in the creek alongside the scow, and
Matt and his boys were building a fire and preparing
to regale themselves upon the big bass
which Fly-rod had unwittingly caught for
their supper. While they were thus engaged
they talked over their plans for the night, and
decided what they would do with the valuable
things they expected to capture in Joe Wayring’s
camp.
“This here is the great p’int, an’ it bothers
me a heap, I tell you,” said Matt, flourishing
the sharpened stick that he was using as a
fork. “Joe an’ his friends are purty well
known in this part of the country, an’ so’s
their outfit; an’ if we steal all they’ve got, as
I mean to do afore I am many hours older,
about the only things we can use will be the
grub.”
“Don’t you reckon they’ve got new fish-poles
to take the place of them you hooked
from ’em up in Sherwin’s pond?” inquired
Sam.
“I know they have, ’cause they wouldn’t
come here without nothing to fish with, would
.bn 038.png
.pn +1
they? But ’twon’t be safe to try to sell ’em
right away, ’cause if we do folks will suspicion
something.”
“I’ll bet you I won’t take’em up to the lake
to sell ’em,” said Jake very decidedly. “The
folks up there know that you stole them fine
guns we’ve got hid in the bresh, an’ they’d
’rest me for helpin’ of you. But there’s one
thing I want, an’ I’m goin’ to have it too,
when we get Joe’s property into our hands,
an’ that’s some new clothes,” added Jake,
pulling his coat-sleeve around so that he
could have a fair view of the gaping rent in
the elbow. “These duds I’ve got on ain’t
fitten to go among white folks with.”
“I don’t see what’s to hender you gettin ’em,
Jakey,” said his father, encouragingly. “If
we get the skiff an’ everything what’s into it, in
course we shall get the extry clothes they brung
with ’em, an’ you an’ Sam can take your pick.”
“An’ I’m goin’ to give that Joe Wayring
the best kind of a poundin’ to pay him for
hittin’ me in the face with your paddle,” continued
Jake.
“You can do that, too, an’ I won’t never say
.bn 039.png
.pn +1
a word agin it. All them fellers need bringin’
down, an’ I’d like the best way to see you boys
do it. Now there’s that skiff of their’n,”
added Matt, reflectively. “She’s better’n the
scow, ’cause she’s got oars instead of paddles,
an’ can get around faster.”
“An’ she’s big enough to carry us an’ our
plunder, an’ she’s got a tent, so’t we wouldn’t
have to go ashore to camp when we wanted to
stop for the night,” said Sam. “But we’d
have to steer clear of the guides, ’cause they all
know her,”
“We’ve got to steer clear of them anyhow,
ain’t we?” demanded Matt. “I reckon we’d
best take her for a house-boat, an’ use the
canvas canoe to go a prospectin’ for camps.”
Matt and his boys continued to talk in this
way until darkness came to conceal their movements,
and then they stepped into the scow
and paddled toward the pond, leaving me tied
fast to a tree on the bank. I knew they were
going on a fool’s errand. They seemed to forget
that Joe and his friends never went into
the woods without taking a body-guard and
sentinel with them; and, knowing how vigilant
.bn 040.png
.pn +1
Arthur Hastings’ little spaniel was in looking
out for the safety of the camp, I did not think
it would be possible for the squatter, cunning
as he was, to steal a march upon the boys he
intended to rob. If Jim aroused the camp
there would be the liveliest kind of a fight,
and I was as certain as I wanted to be that the
attacking party would come off second best.
The squatter was gone so long that I began
to grow impatient; but presently I heard loud
and excited voices coming from the direction
of the pond, mingled with cries of distress, the
clashing of sticks, and other sounds to indicate
that there was a battle going on out there.
Although it seemed to be desperately contested,
it did not last long, for in less than ten
minutes afterwards I saw the scow coming into
the creek. The very first words I heard convinced
me that, although Matt and his boys
had failed to surprise and rob Joe’s camp, they
had inflicted considerable damage upon him
and his companions. To my great satisfaction
I also learned that my confidence in Jim, the
spaniel, had not been misplaced.
“If I ever get the chance I’ll fill that little
.bn 041.png
.pn +1
black fice of their’n so full of bullet holes that
he won’t never be of no more use as a watchdog
I bet you,” said Sam, in savage tones.
“We could have done jest what we liked with
that there camp, an’ every thing an’ every
body what’s into it, if it hadn’t been for his
yelpin’ an’ goin’ on.”
“Now, listen at you!” exclaimed his father,
impatiently. “I’m right glad the dog was
there an’ set up that yelpin’, ’cause if we’d
went ashore, like we meant to do, we’d a had
that man Swan onto us.”
“Well, what of it?” retorted Sam. “Ain’t
you a bigger man than he is?”
“That ain’t nuther here nor there,” answered
Matt, who knew that he could not
have held his own in an encounter with the
stalwart guide. “Fightin’ ain’t what we’re
after. We want to do all the damage we can
without bein’ ketched at it.”
“All I’ve made by this night’s work is a
prod in the ribs that will stay with me for a
month,” groaned Jake, who, as I afterwards
learned, had received several sharp thrusts
from the blade of Roy Sheldon’s oar. “Pap,
.bn 042.png
.pn +1
you spiled our chances of gettin’ that skiff for
a house-boat when you told us to run into
her. She’s at the bottom of the pond by this
time. Didn’t you hear the planks rippin’ and
crackin’ when we struck her?”
“Wal, then, what did they put theirselves
in our way for!” demanded Matt, angrily.
“Didn’t you hear me tell ’em not to come
nigh us, ’cause it would be wuss for’em if they
did? I seen through their little game in a
minute. They wanted to keep us there till
Swan could come up an’ help ’em. What else
could we do but run into ’em?”
This made it plain to me that the squatter
had not acted entirely on the defensive—that
he had made a desperate effort to send the skiff
and her crew to the bottom of the pond; but,
being better posted in natural philosophy than
he was, I did not believe that he had succeeded
in doing it. An unloaded skiff will not sink,
even if her whole side is stove in, and I was
positive that Matt Coyle would see more of
that boat and of the boys who owned it before
the doors of the penitentiary closed upon him.
In spite of Jake’s protest and Sam’s, Matt
.bn 043.png
.pn +1
decided to camp on the bank of the creek that
night, and go home in the morning. The boys
were afraid that the guide might assume the
offensive and attack them while they were
asleep; but their father quieted their fears by
assuring them that he would not attempt any
thing of the sort, ’cause why, he couldn’t.
The skiff was sunk, Swan’s canoe wasn’t large
enough to carry more than one man at a load,
and the guide, brave as he was supposed to be,
would not think of coming up there alone.
More than that, he did not know where to find
them.
Knowing that Matt’s home was wherever he
happened to be when night overtook him, I
felt some curiosity to see the place he had
chosen for his temporary abode. I was ushered
into it early on the afternoon of the following
day. It was located about twenty miles from
the pond, and Matt reached it by turning the
scow out of the creek, and forcing him through
a little stream whose channel was so thickly
filled with bushes and weeds that a stranger
would not have suspected that there was any
water-way there. The stream, which was not
.bn 044.png
.pn +1
more than twenty feet long, ended in a little
bay, and there the scow had to be left, because
his crew could not take him any farther. He
was too broad of beam to be carried through
the thick woods, and besides he was too heavy.
I forgot to say that my new owner, Jake
Coyle, navigated me up the creek. He was
very awkward with the double paddle at first,
but skill came with practice, and before we
had gone half a dozen miles I was carrying
him along as steadily and evenly as I ever
carried Joe Wayring. When we reached the
little bay of which I have spoken, Jake ran
me upon the beach alongside the scow, and set
to work to take me to pieces. Having more
mechanical skill and patience than his father,
he succeeded after awhile, and then he put me
on his shoulder and carried me along the well-beaten
path that led to the camp. But before
this happened I was witness to a little proceeding
on the part of Matt Coyle which showed
what a cunning old fox he was. Catching up
a long pole that had probably been used for
the same purpose before, the squatter went
back to the stream through which we had just
.bn 045.png
.pn +1
passed, and carefully straightened up all the
bushes that had been bent down by the weight
of the scow.
“There!” said Matt, when he had finished
his task, “Swan an’ some more of them guides
will be along this way directly, but I bet they
won’t see nothin’ from the creek to tell ’em
that we are in here. Of course the bresh don’t
stand up squar’, like it oughter, an’ the bark’s
rubbed off in places; but mebbe Swan an’ the
rest of ’em won’t take notice of that.”
I afterward learned, however, that Matt
knew his enemies too well to trust any thing
to luck. Some member of his family stood
guard at the mouth of the stream day and
night. The old woman was on watch when we
came up the creek but I did not see her, for as
soon as she discovered Matt’s scow approaching
she hastened to camp to get dinner ready.
The camp was pleasantly located in a thicket
of evergreens, and with a little care and attention
might have been made a very cheerful and
inviting spot; but it was just the reverse of
that. Matt and his tribe were too lazy to keep
their camps in order or to provide themselves
.bn 046.png
.pn +1
with any comforts. I never knew them to have
such a thing as a camp broom, which any of
them could have made in ten minutes, and I
doubt if their dishes ever received a thorough
washing. They could not muster up energy
enough to pick browse for their beds, but were
content to sleep on the bare ground. All they
cared for was a camp that was so effectually
concealed that the Indian Lake guides would
not be likely to stumble upon it, a lean-to that
would keep off the thickest of the rain, and
plenty to eat. Of course they would have been
glad to have money in their pockets, but they
did not want to put themselves to any trouble
to earn it. Matt contended that he and his
family had as good a right to live without
work as some other folks had.
“So you got your canvas canoe back, did
you, Jakey?” said the old woman, as her
hopeful son came in at one side of the camp
and went out at the other. “Where did you
find him agin?”
“Up there to the pond,” replied Jake.
“That Joe Wayring, he was fishin’, an’ we
crep’ up clost to him afore he knew we was
.bn 047.png
.pn +1
there, an’ then it would a made you laugh
to see him take to the water an’ streak it
through the woods with pap arter him. Don’t
I wish he had ketched him, though? Do you
see any thing onto my face?”
The old woman replied that one of his cheeks
was slightly discolored.
“Joe Wayring done that with pap’s paddle,”
continued Jake, “an’ I’m goin’ to larrup
him for it the first good chance I get. I’ll
l’arn him who he’s hittin’. Yes, this canoe is
mine now, sure enough, for pap give him to
me to keep. I’m goin’ to hide him out here
in the bresh till I want to use him.”
This piece of strategy on the part of my new
master made it impossible for me to take note
of all that happened in and around the squatter’s
camp during the next two days, for the
evergreens partially concealed it from my
view, and Matt and his allies talked in tones
so low that I could not distinctly hear what
they said; but on the afternoon of the third
day I saw and heard a good deal. About
three o’clock, while Sam Coyle was dozing on
the bank of the creek and pretending to stand
.bn 048.png
.pn +1
guard over the camp, he was suddenly aroused
to a sense of his responsibility by seeing a
light skiff come slowly around the bend below.
Mr. Swan, the guide, handled the oars, and
the man who sat in the stern was the owner of
the Lefever hammerless that Matt Coyle had
stolen and concealed in the bushes. They
kept their eyes fastened upon the bank as
they moved along, and Sam knew that they
were looking for “signs.”
“An’ I’m powerful ’feared that they will
find some when they get up here,” thought
the young vagabond, trembling all over with
excitement and apprehension, “’cause didn’t
pap say that he couldn’t make the bresh stand
up straight like it had oughter do, an’ that
the bark was rubbed off in places? I reckon
I’d best be a lumberin’.”
Sam turned upon his face and crawled off
through the bushes, but not until he had seen
Mr. Swan’s boat reinforced by four others,
whose occupants were looking so closely at
the shores as they advanced that it did not
seem possible that a single bush, or even a twig
on them, could escape their scrutiny. Sam
.bn 049.png
.pn +1
lost no time in putting himself out of sight
among the evergreens, and then he jumped to
his feet and made for camp at the top of his
speed. The pale face he brought with him
told his father that he had a startling report
to make.
“Be they comin’?” said Matt, in an anxious
whisper.
“Yes,” replied Sam, “they’re comin’—a
hul passel of boats, an’ two or three fellers
into each one of ’em. The man you hooked
that scatter-gun from is into Swan’s boat, an’
he looks like he was jest ready to b’ile over
with madness.”
“Grab something an’ run with it,” exclaimed
the squatter; and as he spoke he
snatched up the frying-pan and dumped the
half-cooked slices of bacon upon the ground.
For a few minutes there was a great commotion
in the camp. Matt and his family caught
up whatever came first to their hands, and
presently emerged from the thicket, one after
the other. They all carried bundles of something
on their backs, and at once proceeded to
“scatter like so many quails,” and scurry
.bn 050.png
.pn +1
away in different directions. This was one of
their favorite tricks—the one to which they
invariably resorted when danger threatened
them; but before they separated they always
agreed upon a place of meeting, toward which
they bent their steps as soon as they thought
it safe to do so. It was no trouble at all for
them to elude the officers of the law in this
way, and even the guides, experienced as they
were in woodcraft, could not always follow
them.
Jake Coyle was so heavily loaded down with
other plunder that he could not carry me
away with him. That was something upon
which I congratulated myself, for I was sure
that the guides and their companions would
not leave until they had made a thorough
examination of the woods surrounding the
squatter’s camp; but in this I was disappointed.
They set fire to every thing that Matt had
left behind in his hurried flight, and went
back to the bay to find that the enemy had
been operating in their rear. While they
were waiting for the fire they had kindled to
burn itself out, Matt and his family “circled
.bn 051.png
.pn +1
around” to the bay in which they had left
their scow, and went to work to pay Mr.
Swan back in his own coin. Every thing that
would sink was thrown into the water, and
every thing that wouldn’t was sent whirling
through the air toward the woods on the opposite
side of the bay. That was the way my
friend Fly-rod got crippled. He brought up
against a tree with such force that his second
joint was broken close to the ferrule. After
doing all the damage they could without
alarming the guides, Matt and his family took
two of the best boats and made their escape in
them.
I judged that Mr. Swan and his party were
a pretty mad lot of men when they returned to
the bay and saw what had been done there
during their absence. They were so far away
that I could not catch all they said, but I could
hear Joe Wayring’s voice, and longed for the
power to do something that would lead him to
my place of concealment. I also heard the
owner of the stolen Winchester say:
“We will give a hundred dollars apiece to
the man who will find our weapons, capture
.bn 052.png
.pn +1
the thief, and hold him so that we can come and
testify against him. Or, we will give fifty dollars
apiece for the guns without the thief
and the same amount for the thief without
the guns. Boys, you are included in that
offer.”
I knew that the last words were addressed to
Joe Wayring and his chums, for I heard
Arthur thank him, and say that it would
afford him and his friends great satisfaction
if they could find and restore the stolen guns.
I did not suppose that the boys would ever
think of the matter again, having so many
other things to occupy their minds; but subsequent
events proved that I was mistaken.
.bn 053.png
.pn +1
.sp 4
.h2
CHAPTER III. | IN THE WATCHMAN’S CABIN.
.sp 2
Mr. Swan and his party started for Indian
Lake at an early hour the next
morning, and I was left alone in the bushes. I
stayed there all that night and until noon the
next day, and then Jake Coyle and his brother
suddenly appeared in front of my hiding-place.
They came up so silently that I did not know
they were anywhere in the neighborhood until
they were close upon me; but I was not much
surprised at that, for I had become well
enough acquainted with them during my previous
captivity to know that that was their
usual way of doing. They could not have taken
more pains to conceal their movements if they
had been hostile Indians on the hunt for scalps.
They always had the fear of the law before
their eyes, and lived in a state of anxiety and
apprehension that could hardly have been endured
by any one else.
.bn 054.png
.pn +1
“Here he is, all right an’ tight,” said Jake,
laying hold of the rope with which he had tied
me together and hauling me out of the thicket.
“Ole Swan didn’t go to pokin’ around through
the bresh like I was afeared he would. Come
out here. You’ve got to help me steal some
more bacon an’ ’taters to-night.”
“Don’t you let Joe Wayring an’ the rest of
them fellers sneak up an’ take him away from
you, like they done the last time you went out
with him to steal bacon an’ ’taters,” cautioned
Sam. “Them boys ain’t gone home yet, an’ I
shan’t rest easy till they do. As long as they
stay snoopin’ around in these woods where
they ain’t wanted they’re liable to drop down
on us at any minute.”
“I don’t want ’em to go home till I get a
chance to squar’ up with Joe for hittin’ me
in the face with pap’s paddle,” said Jake, who
seemed to think that a greater insult could
not have been put upon him. “I shall allers
remember that agin him. Now le’s go back to
our ole camp an’ see what Swan an’ his crowd
done there arter we left.”
So saying Jake led the way into the evergreens,
.bn 055.png
.pn +1
carrying me on his shoulder. A single
glance at the place where the camp had
been was enough to show that the guides had
done their work well. There was nothing left
of the lean-to, the bedding, and the small
supply of provisions that Matt and his family
had abandoned, except a little pile of ashes.
“This is a purty way for them rich folks to
treat poor chaps like us, ain’t it?” said Sam,
bitterly. “What business did they have to
go an’ do it? We’ve just as much right to be
guides here as Swan has.”
“Well, I don’t reckon him an’ his crowd
hurt us any wuss than we hurt them,” observed
Jake. “Them fish-poles an’ other
things that we flung into the bresh an’ sunk in
the bay must have cost a good many dollars,
an’ we’ve got two of their best boats besides.”
“But them boats won’t do us anymore good
than the two guns we’ve got hid in the bresh,”
answered Sam. “Le’s go an’ take a look at
them guns an’ see if they are all right.”
The hollow log in which the stolen weapons
had been stowed away for safe keeping was at
least a quarter of a mile from the thicket that
.bn 056.png
.pn +1
had furnished me with a hiding-place, but Jake
and his brother went straight to it; and after
removing a few bushes and chunks of wood
that had been scattered carelessly around the
end of the log to conceal the opening, the former
put in his hand and pulled out a Victoria
case which contained the Lefever hammerless.
Passing it over to his brother, Jake again thrust
his arm into the hollow and brought to light
the stolen Winchester, wrapped in a tattered
blanket. When their coverings were removed
I took a good look at them. They were the
handsomest things in the shape of guns I ever
saw, and I did not wonder that their rightful
owners were so anxious to get them back.
“If we had a few ca’tridges to fit ’em, we’d
take a shot or two jest for luck,” said Sam,
raising the double-barrel to his shoulder and
running his eye along the clean brown tubes.
“But they ain’t no more use to us than so
many chunks of ole iron. We dassent sell
’em, an’ pap’ won’t let us have ’em for fear
that we will be took up for thieves.”
“Didn’t you hear pap say that he didn’t
hook the guns ’cause he wanted ’em, but jest
.bn 057.png
.pn +1
to break up guidin’ an’ ruin them hotels up to
the lake?” Jake inquired. “It’s the only
way we’ve got to even up with the folks that
are tryin’ to starve us out, ain’t it? I’ll go
furder’n that, if I ever get a good chance.
I’ll burn every camp I find, like Swan done
with our’n.”
“I reckon that if me an’ you had the money
these guns cost we could wear good clothes an’
live on good grub all the rest of the year,
couldn’t we?” said Sam, as he returned the
Lefever hammerless to his case and handed it
to his brother. “They must have cost as
much as forty or fifty dollars apiece, don’t you
reckon?”
This showed that Sam had about as clear an
idea of the price of fine guns as his father had
of the value of split bamboo fishing-rods and
German-silver reels. The Winchester was
worth fifty dollars, but the list price of the
Lefever hammerless was three hundred.
Having put the guns back into the log again,
Jake once more raised me to his shoulder, and
started off through the woods. But he and
Sam moved with long, noiseless steps, stopping
.bn 058.png
.pn +1
frequently to reconnoiter the ground before
them, and if they conversed at all it was in
low and guarded tones. At the end of half
an hour they struck a “carry”—a dim path
leading from the pond to another body of water
that lay deeper in the forest—and here they
became doubly cautious in their movements.
“Now you toddle on ahead,” said Jake to
his brother, “an’ if you see one of them city
chaps an’ his guide comin’ along the carry,
fetch a little whistle so’t I can hide in the bresh
afore they see me.”
But, as it happened, this precaution was
unnecessary. The carry was deserted by all
save themselves, and at the end of another
half hour Jake took me through a little clearing
and into a dilapidated log shanty, where
we found the squatter and his wife waiting
for us.
“Well, Jakey, you found your boat whar
you left him, didn’t you?” said Matt Coyle,
as the boy deposited me in a corner of the
shanty near the wide fire-place. “I didn’t
know but mebbe Swan an’ the rest of ’em had
nosed him out an’ took him off.”
.bn 059.png
.pn +1
“Well, they didn’t,” answered Jake. “We
found him all right, an’ the guns, too. We
hauled ’em out an’ took a good look at ’em,
me an’ Sam did. It’s a mean shame that we
can’t keep ’em out an’ use ’em like they
b’longed to us.”
The squatter made no reply, and I had
leisure to look about me before any one spoke
again. I was surprised to see how much
furniture there was in the shanty, for I knew
that Matt had lost the bulk of his property
when the guides burned his camp. Of course,
it was of the rudest description, but it would
answer very well when nothing better could be
had. I have seen many a well-appointed camp
whose owners were not any better supplied
with needful things than Matt Coyle was.
There were two comfortable looking shake-downs
on the floor; three-legged stools and
chairs without any backs were abundant; the
home-made table supported more dishes than
Matt and his family were ever likely to fill
with provender, and under it were piled a lot
of miscellaneous articles, including a frying-pan,
camp-kettle, and coffee-pot. To complete
.bn 060.png
.pn +1
the picture, three of the stools and broken
chairs were occupied by Matt Coyle, his wife,
and a roughly dressed man whom I had never
seen before. They were all smoking, and sat
with their elbows resting on their knees.
Taken as a group, they were the laziest looking
lot I ever happened to meet. The stranger was
the first to speak.
“What guns is them you’re talkin’ about?”
said he, in a drawling tone.
“Oh, they’re some that I picked up while I
was a roamin’ around,” replied Matt, with a
knowing wink.
“An’ you got that there canvas canoe in the
same way, I reckon,” continued the stranger,
nodding toward the corner in which I lay,
listening to the conversation.
“Well, p’raps I did,” answered Matt. “It’s
jest like I told you, Rube. I would be willin’
to work hard an’ faithful if they would only
give me a chance to be a guide, but they won’t
do it, an’ me an’ the boys have set ourselves
the job of bustin’ up the hul business. We’ve
done right smart of damage already, but we
ain’t through yet. I’ll bet you there won’t be
.bn 060a.png
.pn +1
as many guests up to them hotels at Injun
Lake next summer as there was this.”
“I heared all about it, an’ about them guns,
too,” drawled Rube. “Do you know that
there’s been a big reward offered fur ’em?
Well, there has. The man who ketches you
an’ finds the guns will get two hundred dollars
for it; an’ if he finds the guns without ketchin’
you he’ll get half as much.”
“That’s enough to turn every man in the
woods agin me,” said Matt, anxiously.
“All except your friends,” Rube hastened
to assure him. “They won’t go agin you for
no money.”
“Well, I’ll bet you they don’t ketch me
agin,” said the squatter, confidently. “They
done it once, but I’m onto their little games
now. They thought they had us all in their
grip, Swan an’ his crowd did, when they
burned our camp up there in the cove; but we
knowed they was comin’ long afore they
got there. I ain’t afeared of their ketchin’
me.”
“An’ I ain’t afeared of their findin’ the
guns nuther,” chimed in Jake. “They’re hid
.bn 060b.png
.pn +1
where nobody wouldn’t never think of lookin’
for ’em.”
“Whereabouts is that?” asked Rube, carelessly.
The boys grinned, while Matt and the old
woman looked down at the floor and said
nothing. They were perfectly willing that
Rube should know how the guns came into
their possession, but they were not so ready
to tell him where the stolen weapons were concealed.
How did they know but that Rube,
tempted by the promise of so large a reward,
would hunt up the guns, restore them to their
lawful owners, and hold fast to all the money
he received for it? Perhaps we shall see that
that was just what Rube wanted to do. He
was by no means as good a friend to the
squatter as he pretended to be, and Matt
suspected it all the while.
“What made you turn agin them folks up
there to the lake?” said the latter, suddenly.
“The last time I seen you, you told me that
you had a good job at guidin’, an’ that you
was gettin’ two an’ a half a day.”
“So I did, an’ it was the truth,” replied
.bn 061.png
.pn +1
Rube. “But he didn’t stick to his bargain,
Hanson didn’t. The last feller I went out
with told him that I was a powerful lazy chap,
an’ that I wouldn’t do nothin’ but jest roll
around on the grass an’ leave him to pick the
browse for the beds an’ cook his own bacon
an’ slapjacks. He told him, furder, that I
wouldn’t take him to the best troutin’ places,
’cause there was too many ‘carries’ in the
way. Well, that was a fact,“ added Rube,
reflectively. “He had so much duffle with
him, my employer did, that I had to make
two trips to tote it all over the carries, an’ two
an’ a half a day is too little money for doin’
sich work as that. I hired myself out to the
hotel for a guide, an’ not for a pack-horse.
So Hanson, he allowed he didn’t want me no
longer, an’ that made me down on him an’ all
the rest, same as you are. If that ain’t a fact,
an’ if I ain’t a friend of your’n, what made me
tell you to come into my shanty an’ make
yourselves to home, an’ use my things till you
could get some furnitur’ of your own?”
So that was the way Matt came to be so well
fixed, was it? The shanty and every thing in
.bn 062.png
.pn +1
it belonged to Rube, and he had told Matt to
step in and make himself at home there. I
thought that looked like a friendly act on
Rube’s part.
“It was mighty good-natur’d an’ free-hearted
in you, an’ if it ever comes handy,
you’ll see that I don’t forget sich things,”
said Matt, after a little pause. “I’m free to
say that I didn’t look fur no sich favors from
you, for I thought you was down on me, like
all the rest of the guides.”
“Well, you see that I ain’t, don’t you?
I’ve been mistreated same as you have, an’
have jest as good a reason to be mad about it.
Now I’ll tell you what I’ll do with you consarnin’
them guns that you’ve got hid in the
bresh,” continued Rube. “You dassent sell
’em or give ’em back to the men you stole ’em
from, ’cause if you try it you will be took up;
but I can do it for you, an’ they won’t never
suspicion any thing agin me. I can take ’em
up to Hanson to-day an’ get the hunderd
dollars cash money that has been promised
for ’em. Say the word an’ I’ll do it, an’ go
halves with you. Fifty dollars is better
.bn 063.png
.pn +1
than leavin’ ’em out there in the woods to
rust till they ain’t good for nothing.”
This seemed to be a fair offer, and I expected
to hear Matt close with it at once; but instead
of that he fastened his eyes on the floor once
again, and drew his shaggy brows together as
if he were thinking deeply. Even Jake went
off into a brown study.
“If you want to make any thing out of them
guns, I don’t see any other way for you to do
it,” said Rube, knocking the ashes from his
pipe and getting upon his feet. “I’ll make
the same bargain with you consarnin’ them
two boats you hooked from Swan an’ his
crowd on the day they burned your camp.
You can’t use them any more’n you can use
the guns, an’ what’s the use of leavin’ ’em in
the bresh to rot away to nothin’?”
“An’ what’s the use of my robbin’ camps if
I’m goin’ to give back all the things I hook?”
asked Matt, in reply.
“You needn’t give ’em all back—only jest
them that you can get a reward for. Take
time to study on it, an’ then tell me if you
don’t think I have made you a good offer.
.bn 064.png
.pn +1
Now I must step down to the hatchery an’ go
on watch; an’ I warn you, fair an’ squar’, don’t
none of you come prowlin’ round like you was
waitin’ for a chance to set fire to the buildin’s
or cut the nets, ’cause if you do I shall have
to tell on you. I shouldn’t like to do that,
bein’ as me an’ you is friends, an’ nuther do I
want to lose my place as watchman at the
hatchery, since I’ve been stopped from guidin’.
I must have some way to make a livin’.”
So saying Rube put on his hat and left the
shanty. Matt and his family remained silent
and motionless for a few minutes, and then,
in obedience to a sign from his father, Jake
jumped up and followed Rube. After a brief
absence he returned with the report:
“He ain’t hangin’ around the back of the
shanty to listen to our talk, Rube ain’t. He’s
gone on down the carry t’wards the hatchery.
Be you goin’ to let him have them boats an’
guns, pap? Seems like it would be better to
have the money than the things, ’cause we
could use the money an’ we can’t use the
boats an’ guns.”
“Now jest listen at the blockhead!”
.bn 065.png
.pn +1
exclaimed Matt. “Do you reckon that if we
give the things up to Rube we’d ever see a
cent of the money? Do you think that ’cause
he opened this shanty to us, an’ told us to
use his dishes to cook our grub with, that it’s
safe to trust him too fur? I don’t. Them boats
an’ guns can stay where they be till they sp’ile
afore I will let Rube or any body else make
any money out of ’em. Nobody but me run
any risk in hookin’ them guns, an’ I’m the one
that oughter have the money for givin’ of ’em
back.”
“I don’t b’lieve Rube’s goin’ agin us,” said
the old woman. “If that is his idee, what’s
the reason he don’t bring the constable here
an’ have you took up? He could do it in a
minute.”
“Now jest listen at you!” said Matt, again.
“Of course he could have me took up if he
wanted to, Rube could, but he would make
only a hundred dollars by it, ’cause he wouldn’t
have the guns. See? But if we give him the
guns, then he’ll bring the constable here arter
me, an’ he’ll get two hundred dollars fur it.
Understand? I don’t b’lieve that every body
.bn 066.png
.pn +1
up to the lake is down on him like they be on
me. If he was stopped from guidin’, how does
it come that he got to be watchman at the
State hatchery? They wouldn’t have no lazy,
good-for-nothing feller there, I bet you.
There’s something mighty jubus about Rube,
an’ you want to be careful what you say an’ do
afore him, the hul on you. It won’t do to
trust nobody ’ceptin’ ourselves. Now, Sam,
you start up the fire, an’, ole woman, you put
what’s left of them bacon an’ ’taters over.
We’ll have more to-morrer, if Jakey has good
luck to-night.”
While the preparations for supper were in
progress, Matt filled his pipe for a fresh smoke,
Sam sat on his stool and meditated, and Jake
disappeared down the carry with his fish-pole
on his shoulder. Rube’s proposition had suggested
an idea to him and he, too, was thinking
deeply. He went straight to the hatchery,
and after watching the carry for a few minutes
to make sure that he had not been followed by
any member of the family Jake peeped around
the corner of one of the buildings and saw Rube
in conversation with the superintendent. The
.bn 067.png
.pn +1
latter went away after a little while, and then
Jake presented himself before the watchman.
“Didn’t I warn you, fair an’ squar’, that
you mustn’t none of you come prowlin’ about
here?” demanded Rube, angrily. “Now clear
yourself or I’ll tell on you, sure.”
“You ain’t got nothing to tell, ’cause I ain’t
done no damage of no sort,” answered Jake,
with a grin.
“But I wouldn’t be afeared to bet that you’re
goin’ to. I wouldn’t trust none of you as fur
as I could sling a meetin’ house. No, I
wouldn’t.”
“Well, pap said he wouldn’t trust you
nuther, so I reckon we’re about even on that
p’int,” said Jake with another grin.
“What for wouldn’t he trust me?” asked
Rube, in an astonished tone.
“’Cause he says you think you are mighty
smart, tryin’ to get them fine guns into your
own hands so’t you can pocket the hul of the
reward an’ never give us none of it. That’s
what you’re up to, Rube, an’ we know it.”
“Tain’t nuther,” said the man, indignantly.
“Well, you can’t never make nothing by
.bn 068.png
.pn +1
coaxin’ pap to give up them guns; I can tell
you that much. Say,” added Jake, drawing
a step or two nearer to Rube and speaking in
low and confidential tones, “you won’t never
tell nobody if I say something to you, will
you?”
“No, I won’t,” replied Rube, lowering his
own voice almost to a whisper.
“You won’t never tell pap nor mam nor
Sam, nor none of ’em, honor bright an’ sure
hope to die?”
“No, I won’t,” repeated Rube.
“Say honor bright; ’cause if you ever let on
to Sam what I say to you, he’ll tell pap, an’
pap, he’ll wear a hickory out on me.”
“Honor bright I won’t tell,” said Rube.
“Say,” whispered Jake. “I’ve done a heap
fur pap fust an’ last, an’ he ain’t never give me
nothin’ fur it, ’ceptin’ that ole canvas canoe I
brung home to-day. I sold them poles that he
stole from Joe Wayring an’ his crowd down on
Sherwin’s pond, an’ he never once said to me:
’Jakey, here’s a couple of dollars to buy you
a pair of shoes agin winter comes.’ Now I
say that was mighty stingy in pap. He says
.bn 069.png
.pn +1
them guns may stay where they be till they
sp’ile, afore you or any body ’ceptin’ himself
shall make any money outen ’em.”
Jake could see by the way Rube hung his
head that he was sorry to hear this. After a
long pause he looked up and said:
“Well, what of it?”
“Well,” continued Jake, “I can’t see the
use of them guns layin’ there doin’ nobody no
good, when I might jest as well have the reward
that’s been offered fur ’em.”
“No more do I,” assented Rube.
“Say,” Jake went on, in a still lower
whisper, “I’ll tell you where the guns be if
you will give me half the money an’ never let
on to none of ’em that I told you.”
“It’s a bargain,” said Rube, extending his
hand.
“An’ you’ll give me the fifty dollars, right
into my own fingers, an’ keep still about it
afterwards?”
“I will.”
“Say. ’Twouldn’t be safe fur me to show
you where the guns is hid, ’cause the old man
is like Joe Wayring an’ the rest of them fellers.
.bn 070.png
.pn +1
He’s got a habit of snoopin’ around
where he ain’t wanted, an’ jest as like’s not
he’d see me while I was a showin’ you; so I’ll
have to tell you. Say! You know where the
creek is that leads—Wait a minute.”
When Jake had said this much it suddenly
occurred to him that perhaps his father was at
that very moment “snoopin’ around” where
he was not wanted, and he thought it best to
satisfy himself on that point. He was pretty
certain that he would see trouble if any member
of his family caught him in close conversation
with the watchman. It was well for
Jake that he took this precaution, for when he
looked cautiously around the corner of the
building he discovered a familiar figure coming
down the carry with long and rapid strides.
It was plain that he was fearful of being seen
and followed, for he stopped every few rods to
look behind him.
“There comes that Sam of our’n,” said Jake,
in an excited whisper. “Now, Rube, you
watch an’ see which end of the buildin’ he’s
p’inting fur, an’ I’ll slip around t’other end an’
make a break fur home through the bresh.
.bn 071.png
.pn +1
Say, Rube, don’t let on, an’ I’ll see you some
other day.”
Jake caught up his fish-pole, which he had
leaned against the side of the hatchery, and
stood ready to run in either direction, while
Rube moved slowly along the bank of the outlet
until he could see the carry.
“Now, then!” he exclaimed, as soon as
Sam came within speaking distance, “you
ain’t wanted here, nor none of your tribe. So
toddle right back where you come from.” At
the same time he made a quick motion with
his hand, which Jake saw and understood. He
darted around the upper end of the building
and was out of sight in an instant.
“You heared me, I reckon,” continued
Rube, seeing that Sam quickened his pace instead
of turning about and retracing his steps.
“You can’t fish here, ’cause it’s agin the
law, an’ you might as well understand it first
as last. Want to speak to me? Hurry up,
then, for I ain’t got no time to fool away.”
Imagine the watchman’s surprise when he
learned that Sam had come there with the same
proposition that his brother had made him a
.bn 072.png
.pn +1
few minutes before. He gave the very same
reasons for it, made the same stipulations regarding
the division of the reward, and exacted
the same promise of secrecy; but he did not tell
Rube where the guns were concealed. Just as
he got to that point a step sounded within the
superintendent’s room, and a hand was laid
upon the latch. Before the door opened Sam,
who had reasons of his own for not wishing
to meet the superintendent face to face, had
vanished in the fast-gathering twilight.
.bn 073.png
.pn +1
.sp 4
.h2
CHAPTER IV. | A NIGHT ADVENTURE.
.sp 2
“I don’t see no trout to go with the
bacon an’ ’taters that your ma is
cookin’ fur supper,” observed Matt Coyle,
who was sitting in the doorway of the shanty
smoking his pipe. “You don’t often come
back without something to show fur your
time an’ trampin’.”
“No, ’cause I don’t often have a watchman
to tell me that I shan’t fish where I please,”
replied Jake, as he leaned his pole against one
end of the cabin and disappeared through
the door. “Rube’s down there to the hatchery,
an’ he’s mighty pertic’lar fur a man who
says he’s down on every body, same as we be.”
“Don’t you b’lieve a word of that story,”
said Matt, earnestly. “’Cause if you do, you
will get into trouble, sure’s you’re a foot high.
There ain’t a word of truth in it.”
“Then what made him tell it?” asked Jake.
.bn 074.png
.pn +1
“I don’t know, less’n he’s been sent out by
Hanson or some of the summer boarders to
keep an eye on us,” answered Matt. “I
b’lieve that if he could find them guns he’d
have the hul kit an’ bilin’ of us ’rested before
mornin’. See Sam anywhere?”
Jake replied that he had not.
“Well, he’s went up there too, I reckon,
’cause I saw him goin’ off with his pole onto
his shoulder. He’ll come pokin’ back directly.”
“I know he went up to the hatchery,”
said Jake, to himself. “An’ that’s what
bothers me. He knows well enough that
Rube wouldn’t let him drop a line into the
water, so what did he go up there fur? I do
think in my soul that Sam will bear a little
watchin’.”
“There’s something mighty strange an’
curious ’bout them two boys of our’n goin’
up to the outlet to fish when they know’d that
the watchman was there,” thought Matt.
“’Tain’t like them at all, that way of doin’
ain’t, an’ it’s my opinion that they are up to
something. Well, if they can get the start
.bn 075.png
.pn +1
of their pap they’re smarter than I think
they be.”
Up to this time Matt and his family had
had perfect confidence in one another. What
one knew the others knew. If their domestic
life had not been altogether harmonious, they
had at least managed to get on very well together,
and had stood shoulder to shoulder
against the common foe—the landlords and
guides, who were determined to drive them
out of the country. But Rube’s offer to return
the stolen property Matt had in his possession
and divide the reward had changed all that.
The rogues had not yet fallen out with one
another, but they were in a fair way to do so,
and when that happened honest men were
likely to get their dues. It was not long
before a series of incidents occurred which
brought about an open rupture.
By the time Sam made his appearance, supper
was ready. The boys, who were usually
talkative, had nothing to say while the meal
was in progress, and that was enough to confirm
Matt’s suspicions.
“They’ve got something on their minds,
.bn 076.png
.pn +1
both of ’em, an’ I know it,” said he, to himself.
“Jakey, have you made up your decision
where you’re goin’ to get some grub fur
us?” he added, aloud.
Jake replied that he had not given the matter
a moment’s thought. He intended to do
as he had always done—stop at the first house
he came too, and if he found dogs there, or the
smokehouse too strongly fastened, he would
go on to the
“I don’t reckon I shall be back much afore
mornin’,” said he. “We’re a mighty fur ways
from where any guides live, an’ I may have
to go cl’ar to Injun Lake afore I can get any
grub.”
“Then you’ll get ketched sure,” said the old
woman.
“Hadn’t you better take Sam along to
help?” inquired Matt.
“No, I won’t,” answered Jake, promptly.
“He’d be that skeared that he wouldn’t dare
leave the boat; so what help would he be to
me, I’d like to know. I don’t want him
along.”
Jake had always refused to permit his
.bn 077.png
.pn +1
brother to accompany him on his numerous
foraging expeditions, and Matt had never
thought any thing of it until this particular
night; but now his refusal made him distrust
Jake. He believed that the boy had private
reasons for wishing to go on his dangerous
errand alone, and told himself that it might
be a good plan to follow him and see where
he went and what he did while he was gone.
So when Jake, after eating his share of the
bacon and potatoes, hauled me out of the corner
and left the cabin without saying a word
to any body his father got upon his feet,
paused long enough to fill his pipe, and also
went out into the darkness. He did not follow
Jake very far, however, because his inherent
laziness proved stronger than his lack of
confidence in the boy, and, besides, the latter
did not do any thing out of the way. He held
straight for Deer Lake outlet, but instead of
following the trail he struck off through the
woods, avoiding the hatchery and the watchman
who kept guard over it. Then Matt
turned about and went back to the shanty,
while Jake launched the canvas canoe and
.bn 078.png
.pn +1
boldly set out on his dangerous mission. I
have often wondered at the nerve the young
reprobate displayed in going off alone on these
midnight plundering expeditions. He seemed
to think no more of it than you would of going
fishing. On this particular night Jake was not
lonesome, for he had some very agreeable
thoughts for company; and as he communed
aloud with them I learned, somewhat to my
surprise, that he had hopes and aspirations as
well as some other boys of my acquaintance.
“I tell you I have lived this way about long
enough,” soliloquized Jake, as he headed me
across the outlet and paddled slowly along
close to the shore and in the shadow of the
overhanging trees. “If I’m ever goin’ to be
any body an’ make any money, now’s my time
to begin. So long as I stay with pap, jest so
long will I be hounded an’ drove about from
pillar to post by them guides an’ landlords,
who won’t let me stay nowhere. I jest know
that pap’s goin’ to see trouble all along of
them guns that he’s got hid in the bresh, but I
can’t see why I should be ’rested too. I
didn’t hook the guns, an’ that’s what made me
.bn 079.png
.pn +1
talk to Rube the way I did. If he will go
halvers with me on the reward, I’ll get fifty
dollars, an’ that will be enough so’t I can start
out on my own hook. If Rube wants to earn
the extra hundred by havin’ pap ’rested arterwards—why,
that’s something I can’t help.
I’ve got a good boat, one that I can tote anywhere
through the woods, an’ what’s to hender
me from strikin’ out fur myself this winter?
I know where to go to find good trappin’
grounds, an’ I’ll bet that when spring comes
I’ll have more money than I will if I stay
hangin’ round here with pap. I ain’t goin’ to
be shut up in jail for something I didn’t do,
an’ that’s all there is about that.”
Jake continued to talk to himself in this way
during the whole of the hour and a half that
it took him to paddle from the mouth of the
outlet to the landing in front of the first house
above the hatchery. I could not see that there
was any dwelling there, for the night was
pitch dark; but Jake knew where he was, and
I learned from some snatches of his soliloquy
which I overheard that the guide to whom the
premises belonged was a thrifty man and a
.bn 080.png
.pn +1
good provider for his family. If he could only
get into his smokehouse or effect an entrance
into his cellar, Jake was sure that he could
load his canoe without the least trouble. As
the guide was neither a “cruster” nor a
“skin-butcher,” he did not keep dogs, but he
had a stalwart son who took care of the little
farm during his father’s absence, and Jake
knew that he would see fun if that boy heard
him prowling around.
Jake did not make the painter fast to any
thing, for he did not want to lose time in casting
it off in case he were called upon to make
a hasty retreat. He simply drew me part way
out of the water, so that I would not float off
with the current, and after that threw a couple
of bags over his shoulder and disappeared in
the bushes. Then began that series of incidents
to which I referred a little while ago,
and which not only brought about an open
rupture in Matt Coyle’s family, but broke it
up as completely as the guides and landlords
could have wished. I heard all about them before
I was stowed away in Joe Wayring’s bedroom
to await the coming of the next boating
.bn 081.png
.pn +1
season, and consequently I am able to describe
them to you in the order in which they occurred.
Jake’s first care, when he reached the clearing,
was to give the house a good looking over
in order to make sure that all the inmates had
gone to bed. He could not see a light in any
of the windows, and neither could he hear any
one moving about on the inside. He did not
look for enemies outside the house, and consequently
he did not see the two dark figures
that sprang quickly behind a corner of the cellar
the moment he came into view. But the
figures were there, and they saw every thing
Jake did.
Having satisfied himself that the family had
all retired, Jake made his way to the cellar,
which was not built under the house, but fifty
yards in the rear of it. It was a square hole
in the ground, walled up with logs instead of
stone, and covered with a peaked roof to shed
the rain. Four steps led down to the door,
which Jake found to be fastened with a padlock.
But he expected to find it so, and had
come prepared for it. He drew from one of the
.bn 082.png
.pn +1
bags a long iron strap, like those that sometimes
are used for hanging heavy doors, thrust
one end of it under the hasp and, with a sudden
jerk, pulled out the nearest staple. This being
done, the door swung open of its own accord,
and Jake went into the cellar.
Not a single ray of light came in at the
door, and Jake, having neglected to bring
with him a supply of matches, was obliged to
grope about in the dark. He wasn’t searching
for any thing in particular. He did not care
what he found, so long as it was something
that was good to eat, and with such articles
the cellar appeared to be abundantly stocked.
He found a generous piece of bacon, half a
bushel of potatoes, as many turnips, a small
crock of butter, and several jars of pickles, all
of which he bundled into his bag without the
least regard for order or neatness. His sole
duty was to forage for provisions; it was no
concern of his how the things looked when he
got them home.
“I reckon I’ve got about all I can tote down
to the boat at one load, an’ so I’ll quit,” said
Jake, moving his hand along the hanging-shelf
.bn 083.png
.pn +1
to make sure that he had found all the
things that had been placed upon it. “If
them folks of our’n want any more grub they
can steal it theirselves, fur I am getting tired
of the—Well, I do think in my soul. What’s
that?”
As Jake shouldered his well-filled bags he
turned toward the door, only to find it
blocked by the two figures who had sought
concealment behind the cellar. They had
come down the steps so cautiously that Jake
did not know there was any one near him.
Of course he was greatly alarmed, and visions
of the New London penitentiary rose up
before him; for Jake knew very well that
nocturnal house-breaking, with the intent to
commit a felony, constitutes burglary, and
burglary is a State’s prison offense. The light
was so dim that he could not see the features
of the men who blocked the doorway and cut
off his escape, but beyond a doubt one of
them must be the son of the guide he had
robbed.
“I couldn’t help it, Ike, sure’s I live an’
breathe I couldn’t help stammered Jake,
.bn 084.png
.pn +1
as soon as he could speak. “We ain’t got a
bite to eat in the shanty, an’ no way to earn
any, seein’ that the folks about here won’t let
us be guides and make an honest livin’, like
we want to do. I’ll give up every thing
I’ve got into the bags if—”
“Keep your plunder, friend,” said a voice
that Jake did not remember to have heard
before. “We don’t own it, and neither are we
officers. We don’t care how much you steal.
Where’s your boat?”
“Down to the beach,” replied Jake, who
thought this a little ahead of any thing he had
ever heard of before.
“Well, do you want to earn five dollars?”
asked the man, in hurried tones. “Then
shoulder your bags again and come on. We
want you to set us across the lake.”
Jake obeyed the order to “come on,” but
he did it with fear and trembling. How did
he know but this was a ruse on the part of the
two men to get him out of the cellar so that
they could both pounce upon him? He followed
them up the steps because he was afraid
to hang back; but when he got to the top he
.bn 085.png
.pn +1
watched for an opportunity to throw down his
bags and take to his heels. But first he took
as good a look at the men as he could in
the darkness. They both wore slouch hats
and long dark-colored ulsters, and each carried
a small traveling bag in his hand. In appearance,
they were not unlike the sportsmen
and tourists who patronized the Indian Lake
hotels in summer. They tried to make Jake
believe that that was what they were; but
the boy was sharp enough to discover a flaw in
their story at once.
“We’ve been spending a month up at the
hotel hunting and fishing,” said the one who
had thus far done all the talking. “This
afternoon we received a telegram urging our
immediate return to New London, and we are
trying to get there now.”
“There ain’t no huntin’ up to Injun Lake
this time of the year, ’cause it’s agin the law,”
said Jake, to himself. “An’ this ain’t the
best way to get to New London nuther, if
they’re in sich a hurry as they make out.
Why didn’t they hire a wagon to take ’em to
the railroad? It’s a mighty fur ways through
.bn 086.png
.pn +1
the woods,” he added, aloud, “an’ you won’t
get there half so quick as the cars could take
you.”
“It is too late to think about that now,”
was the rather impatient reply. “We’ve got
started, and we can’t waste time in going
back. Can you set us across the lake?”
“I reckon,” answered Jake. “But I shall
have to carry you one at a time, ’cause my
boat is small, an’ won’t hold up three fellers
at a load.”
While this conversation was going on Jake,
who did not believe a word of the story to
which he had listened, was watching for a
chance to slip away in the darkness; but the
men, as if divining his intention, walked one
on each side of him, and even took hold of his
arms to help him over the rough places.
When they reached the woods one went on
ahead and the other brought up the rear; so
there was no opportunity for escape.
“There’s the boat.” said Jake, at length.
“Now which one of you shall I take over
first? An’ where’s that five dollars you promised
me fur settin’ you across?”
.bn 087.png
.pn +1
The men did not reply immediately. They
struck matches on the sleeves of their ulsters
and examined me closely, all the while keeping
up an animated conversation in tones so
low that I did not think Jake could hear it; but
subsequent events proved that he heard every
word of it, and knew how to profit by the information
he gained from it. The course of
action he instantly marked out for himself,
and which he successfully carried into execution,
astonished me beyond measure.
“Say, Jim,” said one of the men, fumbling
in his pocket for another match. “This is a
cranky looking craft, and I am afraid to trust
myself in her. We couldn’t swim ten feet to
save our lives, and both these gripsacks have
specie enough in them to sink them to the bottom,
if she should happen to capsize with us.
Say, friend, how wide is the lake at this
point?”
“About a mile—mebbe more,” answered
Jake.
“Is the water very deep?”
“Well, middlin’ deep. On the day pap
ketched a salmon trout here he let out seventy
.bn 088.png
.pn +1
foot of line an’ never teched bottom. I reckon
that’s water enough to drown a feller, less’n
he’s a tolerable fine swimmer.”
The men evidently thought so too. They
held another consultation, and had almost
made up their minds that the safest thing
they could do would be to stay ashore and
walk around the lake, when Jake broke in
with—
“I’ll tell you what I’ve heard pap say
more’n once. If you are afeared that a boat
is too cranky fur you, an’ that she’ll spill you
out, all you’ve got to do is to load her down
most to the water’s edge, an’ then she’ll go
along as stiddy as a rockin’ cheer. The water
ain’t over your heads right here, an’ if you
don’t like the look of things arter we all get
in, why I can bring you back to shore mighty
easy.”
One of the men protested that the plan
wouldn’t work at all, but his more venturesome
companion declared that it was worth trying,
adding—
“We can’t manage the canoe, and the boy
will have to go. If he takes us over one at a
.bn 089.png
.pn +1
time, we shall lose valuable moments. Jump
in, Jim. Where did you want to sit, boy?
In the middle, I suppose?”
“I reckon,” replied Jake. “But afore we
start, I want to see the color of them five dollars
you promised me for takin’ you over.”
The man who had been called Jim uttered an
exclamation of impatience and opened his
traveling bag, while his companion struck
another match. By the aid of the light it
threw out Jake caught a glimpse of the contents
of the valise. It was a very brief one,
but the sight on which his gaze rested during
the instant that the match blazed up and
then went out almost took his breath away.
The little bag was filled to the very top with
glittering silver pieces. Never but once in his
life before had Jake Coyle seen so much
money, and that was in the front window of a
New London broker’s office.
Jim caught up several of the coins, and as
the light emitted by the match died away just
then he counted out Jake’s five dollars in the
dark. But the boy knew they were all there,
for he felt them as they were dropped into his
.bn 090.png
.pn +1
eager palm. He shut his fingers tightly upon
them, and instead of putting them into his
pocket he thrust them into the mouth of the
sack that contained the bacon and potatoes he
had stolen in the cellar.
“They might slip outen my pocket if we
should happen to get capsized, but they’ll be
safe there,” chuckled Jake. “T’other side
of the lake is a mighty jubus place to land a
canoe on a dark night like this one is, ’cause
there’s so many snags there to pester a
feller.”
“Now, then, what’s keeping you?” demanded
Jim, impatiently. “We’ve wasted too much
time already.”
“Well, why don’t you pile in?” asked
Jake, in reply. “I’ll shove the canoe out till
she floats, an’ then I’ll step in myself. I
ain’t afeared of gettin’ my stockin’s wet.”
In accordance with these instructions Jim
took possession of the bow, his companion
seated himself in the stern, and Jake shoved
me from the shore. When the water was a
little more than knee-deep, he stepped aboard
and took up his paddle. His added weight
.bn 091.png
.pn +1
made me settle down until the water came
within two or three inches of the top of my
gunwale, and I expected that Jake would stop
and ask his passengers how they “liked the
look of things” now that they were afloat;
but he did nothing of the kind, for it was not
on his programme to take them back to shore
after he had got fairly started with them. He
dipped his paddle into the water and with a
few quick, strong strokes left the trees on the
bank out of sight. If I could have spoken to
them I could have quieted the fears of Jake’s
timid passengers in very few words. I did not
believe that the three of them weighed much
more than half my floating capacity, which was
eight hundred pounds.
The lake wasn’t an inch over five hundred
yards wide at this point, and neither was the
water more than fifteen or twenty feet deep.
Jake was not more than ten minutes in coming
within sight of the opposite shore, and then he
began twisting about, looking first one side of
his bow passenger and then the other, as if
he were searching for something. The beach
was, as he had said, a bad place to make a
.bn 092.png
.pn +1
landing on a dark night. In fact there was
no beach there; nothing but a low, muddy
shore, which was thickly lined with gnarled
and twisted roots and sharp-pointed snags.
It was a fine place for an accident, even in
broad daylight; but Jake could have passed
through in perfect safety if he had been so
minded. Instead of that, he picked out the
wickedest looking sawyer in the lot and headed
me straight for it, with longer and stronger
strokes. Jim, who was seated in the bow,
could not see what he was doing, and the
attention of the man who occupied the stern
was so fully taken up with other matters
(keeping his balance, for one) that he could
not think of any thing else. While I was
wondering what Jake was going to do, he ran
my bow high and dry upon the leaning sawyer;
and in less time than it takes to tell it I
rolled completely over, and came right side
up, turning Jake and his passengers out into
the cold waters of the lake.
“Human natur’!” sputtered Jake, who
was the first to rise to the surface. “What’s
the matter with you feller in the bow? Why
.bn 093.png
.pn +1
didn’t you tell me that the snag was there,
so’t I could have kept cl’ar of it?”
I knew now what Jake Coyle’s plan was,
and felt the keenest anxiety for the two men
who had been so unexpectedly dumped over-board,
for I had heard them say that they
could not swim ten feet to save their lives.
But fortunately they could swim a little.
Their heads bobbed up almost as quick as
Jake’s did, and as soon as they had taken in
the situation, they struck out for the snag.
They were greatly alarmed, although, as I
afterward learned, there was not the slightest
reason for it. If they had allowed their feet
to sink toward the bottom, they would have
found that the water at that place was not
more than shoulder-deep.
“How could I be expected to act as lookout
when I was sitting with my back to the front
end of the boat?” demanded Jim, as soon as
he could speak. “Where’s my grip-sack?”
“And mine?” exclaimed his companion.
“Boy, have you got ’em?”
“I ain’t got nothin’,” answered Jake.
“Didn’t you hold fast to ’em when the boat
.bn 094.png
.pn +1
capsized? Then they went to the bottom of
the lake, most likely, an’ you won’t never
see ’em agin, ’cause the water’s more’n four
hundred feet deep right here, an’ the mud
goes down a hundred feet furder.”
I had floated off the sawyer the instant I was
relieved of the weight of my three passengers,
and the current, which at this point set pretty
strongly toward the outlet, carried me within
reach of Jake Coyle’s arm. As he spoke, he
gave me a sly but vigorous push, which sent
me out of sight of the two men who were
clinging to the sawyer, but not so far away but
that I could hear every word they said.
When they found that their valises had
gone to the bottom, their fear gave place to
rage, and they fell to abusing Jake and each
other.
“I knew we would come to grief if we got
into that canoe, but you insisted on it, and
now you see what we have made by it,” said
one of the men after he had sworn himself out
of breath. “How are we going to get to
Canada when we haven’t got five dollars
between us? We’ve put ourselves in a fair way
.bn 095.png
.pn +1
of going to prison, and we haven’t a thing to
show for it.”
“Hold your tongue!” exclaimed the other,
fiercely. “Do you want to give yourself away
to this boy? Say, Tommy, or Julius, or whatever
your name is, are you good at diving?”
“Never could dive wuth a cent,” declared
Jake, who often boasted that he could bring
up bottom at a greater depth than any other
boy in the State. “What do you reckon you
want me to do—try to get them grip-sacks fur
you? There ain’t a livin’ man can go down to
the bottom of the mud where them things is
by this time. Was there much into ’em?”
“Was there? Well, I should—”
“Hold on!” interrupted Jim. “We’ll not
give the money up until we have made an
effort to recover it. We’ll keep this boy with
us until morning, and then we’ll fix up some
sort of a drag and see what we can do with it.
I don’t believe that the water is as deep—Here,
you villain, what sort of a game have you been
playing on us? The water isn’t over five feet
deep. I’m standing on bottom now.”
“Wal, stand there long’s you like,” replied
.bn 096.png
.pn +1
Jake, who all this while had been holding fast
to another snag a little distance away. “I
won’t charge you no rent fur it. You stole
that there money somewheres, an’ I know
right where the constable lives. ’Twon’t take
me long—”
A vivid light shot out into the darkness, a
water-proof cartridge cracked spitefully, and
a bullet from Jim’s revolver whistled dangerously
near to Jake Coyle’s head.
.bn 097.png
.pn +1
.sp 4
.h2
CHAPTER V. | JAKE COYLE’S SILVER MINE.
.sp 2
“Human natur’!” yelled Jake, when
the ball sung through the air close
to his ear. “I’m shot! Whoop! I’m killed.”
He let go his hold upon the snag and fell
back into the water with a sounding splash;
but rising with the buoyancy of a cork, and
finding, to his astonishment, that he was not
at all injured, he swam rapidly in my direction,
but so silently that I could not hear the slightest
ripple. The robbers, if such they were,
were struck dumb by the alarming sounds that
had been called forth by their random shot;
but at length one of them broke the silence.
“I hope you’re satisfied,” said he, in savage
tones. “You have added murder to burglary,
and now we are in for it, sure. I’m off this
very minute.”
“Where are you going, Tony?” asked his
companion, in pleading tones.
.bn 098.png
.pn +1
“I’m going to get ashore and strike out
through the woods the best I know how. I
don’t care where I bring up, so long as I put a
safe distance between myself and the guides
who will be on our trail at daylight. They’ll
track a fellow down as a hound would.”
“Are you going to desert me? I can’t swim
ashore.”
“Then walk. The water isn’t up to your
neck.”
“But the mud! What if it should be a
quicksand?”
“The mud isn’t an inch deep. That boy
told us a pack of lies from beginning to end.
He capsized us on purpose; but I am sorry
you shot him. Come on, if you are going with
me.”
“Must we leave the money behind after all
the risk we ran to get it?”
“The money can stay where it is till the rust
eats it up for all I care,” replied Tony, who
was very much alarmed. “I wouldn’t stay
here a minute longer after what you have done
for all the money there is in America.”
“But there are six thousand dollars in those
.bn 099.png
.pn +1
grip-sacks,” protested Jim, “and that amount
of cash don’t grow on every bush.”
“I know it; but there’s no help for it that
I can see. You have knocked us out of a fortune
by being so quick with your revolver.”
Here the speaker broke out into a volley of
the heaviest kind of oaths, and Jake Coyle sat
composedly in the canvas canoe listening to
him. The boy’s courage came back to him
the instant he found himself in the boat
with the double paddle in his hand, and instead
of making haste to return to the other shore,
as I thought he would, he kept still and waited
to see what his late passengers were going to
do. Although he was not more than twenty
yards from them they could not see him, for,
as I have said, the night was pitch dark.
“I knowed by the way them fellers went
snoopin’ around that suller, an’ by the funny
story they tried to cram down my throat, that
they wasn’t sportsmen like they pertended to
be,” soliloquized Jake, giving himself an approving
slap on the knee. “An’ I knowed the
minute I seed that money that it wasn’t their’n,
an’ that’s why I upsot ’em into the lake.
.bn 100.png
.pn +1
Whoop-pee! I’ve got a silver mind up there
by that snag, an’ to-morrer night I’ll slip up
an’ work it.”
Hardly able to control himself, so great was
his delight over the success of his hastily conceived
plans, Jake sat and listened while the
robbers floundered through the water toward
the shore; and when a crashing in the bushes
told him that they had taken to the woods,
he headed me for the place where he had left
the stolen provisions. Six thousand dollars!
Jake could hardly believe it. It was a
princely fortune in his estimation, and it was
all his own; for no one except himself and the
robbers knew where it was, and the latter
would not dare come after it, believing, as they
did, that their chance shot had proved fatal to
Jake. It would be an easy matter for the boy
to bring the two grip-sacks to the surface by
diving for them, but what should he do with
the money after he got hold of it? Unless he
went to some place where he was not known,
it would be of no more use to him than those
fine guns were to his father. There was but
one store within a radius of fifty miles at which
.bn 101.png
.pn +1
he could spend any of it, and Jake knew it
would not be safe to go there. The store was
located at Indian Lake, and that was the headquarters
of the guides who were so hostile to
his father’s family.
“It’s a p’int that will need a heap of
studyin’ to straighten it out,” thought Jake,
putting a little more energy into his strokes
with the double paddle. “But I’m rich, an’
I needn’t stop with pap no longer’n I’ve a mind
to. That’s a comfortin’ idee. Wouldn’t him
an’ Sam be hoppin’ if they knowed what had
happened to-night? I don’t reckon I’d best
have any thing more to say to Rube about them
guns. I don’t care for fifty dollars long’s I got
six thousand waitin’ for me.”
Jake found the bags where he had left them,
and also the five dollars which the robbers had
paid him for ferrying them across the lake.
He loaded the bags into the canoe, after
putting the money into his pocket, and set out
for home, which he reached without any further
adventure. He took a good deal of pains to
avoid the watchman at the hatchery, although
there was really no need of it. Rube knew
.bn 102.png
.pn +1
well enough that the food Matt’s wife served
up to him three times a day had never been
paid for. The first words he uttered when he
presented himself at the breakfast table the
next morning proved as much.
“Beats the world how you folks keep yourselves
in grub so easy,” said he, as he drew
one of the stools up to the well-filled board.
“I never see you do no work, an’ yet you
never go hungry. Well, I don’t know’s it’s
any of my business; but I’d like mighty well
to make it my business to ’rest them two
robbers that’s prowlin’ about in these woods.”
“What robbers?” inquired Matt; while
Jake, taken by surprise, bent his head lower
over his cracked plate and trembled in every
limb.
“I don’t know’s I can give you any better
idee of it than by readin’ a little scrap in a
paper that Swan give me early this morning,”
answered Rube, pushing back his stool and
pulling the paper in question from his pocket.
“Swan!” ejaculated Matt, his face betraying
the utmost consternation. “Has he been
round here?”
.bn 103.png
.pn +1
Rube replied very calmly that the guide had
been around there, adding—
“Him an’ a whole passel of other guides an’
constables come to see me this morning at the
hatchery afore sun-up. They told me all about
it an’ give me this paper. They was a lookin’
for the robbers.”
“An’ don’t you know that they’re lookin’
for me too?” exclaimed Matt, reproachfully.
“An you never come to wake me up so’t I
could take to the bresh an’ hide? Spos’n I’d
been ketched all along of your not bringin’ me
word?”
“But you see I knowed you wasn’t in no danger,”
replied the watchman. “They wouldn’t
be likely to look for you in my house, an’ me
holdin’ the position of watchman at the State
hatchery, would they? Besides, they don’t care
for you now. They’re after a bigger reward than
has been offered for you. There’s six hundred
dollars to be made by ’restin’ them robbers, an’
that’s what brung Swan an’ his crowd up here so
early. They tracked the robbers through the
woods as far as Haskinses’, Swan and the rest of
the guides did, an’ there they found a steeple
.bn 104.png
.pn +1
pulled outen the suller door an’—Hallo!
What’s the matter of you, Jake?”
“There ain’t nothin’ the matter of me as I
knows on,” said the boy, faintly.
“I thought you sorter acted like you was
chokin’. Well, they routed up Haskinses’
folks, an’ when Miss Haskins come to go into
the suller she said she had lost some ’taters,
turnups, bacon, butter, and pickles,” continued
Rube; and as he said this he ran his eyes
over the table and saw before him every one
of the articles he had enumerated. “Miss
Haskins allowed that the robbers must a
bust open the door to get grub to eat while
they was layin’ around in the bresh. Mebbe
they did an’ mebbe they didn’t; but that’s
nothin’ to me. They couldn’t track the robbers
no furder’n the suller; but they’re bound
to come up with ’em, sooner or later. Townies
ain’t as good at hidin’ in the woods as you be,
Matt.”
The squatter grinned his appreciation of the
complaint, and Rube proceeded to unfold his
paper. When he found the dispatch of which
he was in search, he read it in a low monotone,
.bn 105.png
.pn +1
without any rising or falling inflection or the
least regard for pauses. It ran as follows:
.pm start_quote
.ce
“BANK THIEVES GET $6,000.
“Irvington, Aug. 3.—The cashier of the First
National Bank went to dinner about noon yesterday,
after closing and locking the vault
and doors of the building. Thieves entered
the bank by a back door and secured about
$6,000, mostly in specie, which had been left
in trays just inside the iron railings. Two
strangers wearing long dark coats and black
felt hats were seen coming out of the alley
about the time the money was supposed to
have been stolen, and suspicion rests upon
them. The sheriff is in hot pursuit, and the
thieves have already been traced as far as
Indian Lake. That is bad news. The Indian
Lake vagabonds will give them aid and comfort
as long as their money holds out, and the officers
will have an all-winter’s job to run them
to earth. A reward of six hundred dollars has
been offered for the apprehension of the robbers.”
.pm end_quote
Rube folded the paper again and said, as he
winked knowingly at Matt Coyle—
“You see that Swan and the rest of the
guides have got bigger game than you to look
after, an’ if they’ve got an all-winter’s job onto
.bn 106.png
.pn +1
their hands, you’re safe, so fur as bein’ took
up is concerned; I mean that they won’t go
out of their way to hunt you up.”
Having finished his breakfast Rube took possession
of one of the shake-downs, while Matt
and his family adjourned to the open air to
give him a chance to sleep.
“The Injun Lake vagabones will give
’em aid an’ comfort as long’s their money
holds out,” quoted Matt, seating himself on a
convenient log and knitting his shaggy brows
as if he were revolving some deep problem in
his mind. “That means us, I reckon; don’t
you? I’d give ’em all the aid an’ comfort
they wanted if I could only find ’em, I bet you.
I wish we were livin’ in the woods now like we
used to. We’d stand enough sight better
chance of meetin’ ’em than we do here so nigh
the hatchery.”
“An’ what’s the reason we ain’t livin’ in the
woods, quiet and peaceable?” exclaimed Sam.
“It’s all along of Joe Wayring an’ the rest of
them Mt. Airy fellers who burned us outen
house an’ home, so’t we’ve got to stay around
the settlements whether we want to or not.”
.bn 107.png
.pn +1
The mention of Joe Wayring’s name seemed
to set Matt Coyle beside himself with rage. He
jumped to his feet and strode back and forth
in front of his log, flourishing his arms in the
air and uttering threats that were enough to
make even a canvas canoe tremble with apprehension.
Why Matt should feel so spiteful
against my master I could not understand.
Joe had no hand in driving him out of Mount
Airy, neither did he lend the least assistance
in destroying Matt’s property. The trustees
and the guides were the responsible parties,
but Matt did not give a thought to them. The
innocent Joe was the object of his wrath,
and he promised to visit all sorts of terrible
punishments upon him at no very distant day.
“We’ll tie him to a tree an’ larrup him till
he’ll wish him an’ his crowd had left us alone,”
said Matt, in savage tones. “We’ll larn him
that honest folks ain’t to be drove about like
sheep jest ’cause they ain’t got no good clothes
to w’ar. But six thousand dollars!” added
Matt, coming back to the point from which he
started. “That’s a power of money, ain’t it?”
“Six hundred you mean,” suggested Sam.
.bn 108.png
.pn +1
“That’s the reward that’s been offered for
them robbers.”
“Who said any thing about the reward,”
exclaimed Matt, almost fiercely. “I wasn’t
thinkin’ of the reward. I was thinkin’ of the
six thousand.”
“Wouldn’t you try to ’rest ’em, pap, if you
should find ’em?” inquired Sam.
“Not if I could make more by givin’ ’em
aid an’ comfort, I wouldn’t. Say,” added Matt,
giving Sam a poke in the ribs with his finger.
“Six hundred dollars is nothin’ alongside of
six thousand, is it? Them fellers will have to
camp somewhere, if they stay in the woods,
won’t they? An’ is there a man in the Injun
Lake country that’s better’n I be at findin’
camps an’ sneakin’ up on ’em? Jakey, go into
the shanty an’ bring out that canvas canoe of
your’n. Go easy, ’cause Rube wants to sleep
after bein’ up all night. More’n that, I want
him to sleep; for I don’t care to have him
know what I am up to. I suspicion that he’s
watchin’ me.”
“Where be you goin’, pap?” asked Jake, in
some alarm.
.bn 109.png
.pn +1
“Up to Haskinses’ to take a look around
his landin’,” replied Matt. “You didn’t see
any thing of them robbers while you was workin’
about that suller, did you, Jakey?”
“Didn’t see hide nor hair of nobody,” was
the answer. “If I’d seen ’em I’d been that
scared that I never would quit a runnin’.”
“Well, they was up there somewheres,
’cause Swan an’ his crowd tracked ’em that
fur. But they couldn’t foller ’em no furder,
an’ that proves that the robbers must have
crossed the lake right there.”
“I don’t reckon they did, pap,” replied
Jake, whose uneasiness and anxiety were so
apparent that it was a wonder his father’s
suspicions were not aroused. “’Cause where
did they get a boat to take ’em over? Haskins
don’t own but one, an’ he’s got that up to
Injun Lake.”
“I don’t know nothin’ about that,” answered
Matt, doggedly. “Them robbers got
across the lake somehow, an’ I am sure of it.
Leastwise it won’t do any harm to slip up
there, easy like, an’ look around a bit. Go an’
bring out the canoe, Jakey.”
.bn 110.png
.pn +1
I did not wonder at the white face the boy
brought with him when he came into the cabin
and took me out of the chimney corner, and
neither was I much surprised to hear him mutter
under his breath—
“I do wish in my soul that I’d busted a hole
into you when I run you onto that snag last
night. Then pap couldn’t have used you this
mornin’. I’ll bet he don’t never go out in you
no more.”
“Now, then,” said Matt, “put him together,
ready for business—you can do it better’n I can—while
I go in after my pipe an’ rifle.”
“Say, Jakey,” said Sam, in a delighted
whisper, as Matt tip-toed into the cabin, “if
pap finds the camp of them robbers won’t we
be rich folks, though? He ain’t goin’ in fur
the reward, pap ain’t. Looks to me as
though he had got his eye on them six
thousand.”
That was the way it looked to Jake too; and
although he knew that his father could not
find the money, hidden as it was under five
feet and more of muddy water, he was afraid
that he would see something at Haskins’
.bn 111.png
.pn +1
landing that would make him open his eyes.
And Jake’s fears were realized. In less than an
hour after he and his brother put me into the
water at the head of the outlet, Matt had
paddled up to Haskins’ landing and was taking
in all the signs he found there with the eye of
an Indian trailer. Nothing escaped his
scrutiny. He saw the impress of Jake’s bare
feet in the mud, the prints of boots, the marks
of the canvas canoe on the beach, and noted
the place where the bags had been left while
the robbers were being ferried across the lake.
Then he sat down on a log, smoked a pipe, and
thought about it.
“What was that boy’s notion for tellin’ me
that them robbers couldn’t have crossed the
lake ’cause they didn’t have no boat, do you
reckon?” said he, to himself. “Come to
think of it, he did look kinder queer when I
said I was goin’ to look about Haskinses’
landin’ jest to see what I could find here, and
I’ll bet that that boy knows more about them
robbers than any body else in these woods.
He took ’em over, Jakey did—all the signs
show that. Course he didn’t do it for nothin’,
.bn 112.png
.pn +1
so he must have money. Now what’s to be
done about it?”
This was a question upon which the squatter
pondered long and deeply. If Jake had
earned some money the night before, of course
Matt ought to have the handling of it, for he
was the head of the family; but how was he
going to get it? He knew the boy too well to
indulge in the hope that he would surrender
it on demand, and as for whipping it out of
him—well, that wouldn’t be so easy, either;
for Jake was light of foot, and quite as much
at home in the woods as his father was. It
wouldn’t do for Matt to come to an open rupture
with his hopeful son, for if he did who
would steal the bacon and potatoes the next
time the larder ran low? Sam was too timid
to forage in the dark, running the risk of encounters
with vicious dogs and settlers who
might be on the watch, and even Matt had no
heart for such work. He must bide his time
and pick Jake’s pocket after he had gone to
bed, unless—here the squatter got upon his
feet, knocked the ashes from his pipe, and
shoved the canvas canoe out into the lake.
.bn 113.png
.pn +1
“Them robbers must have made pretty considerable
of a trail, lumberin’ through the
bresh in the dark, an’ what’s to hender me
from follerin’ ’em?” he soliloquized, as he plied
the double paddle. “Havin’ been up all night
they oughter sleep to-day, an’ if I can only find
their camp—eh?”
Matt Coyle began building air-castles as
these thoughts passed through his mind. He
paddled directly across the lake, avoiding the
snag on which I had been overturned the night
before, passing over Jake’s silver mine, which
he might have seen if he had looked into the
water, and presently he was standing on the
spot where the robbers made their landing
when they waded ashore. Here another surprise
awaited him. There were no signs to indicate
that the canvas canoe had been there
before, and neither were there any prints of
bare feet to be seen. Boot-marks were plenty,
however, and the ground about them was wet.
“Now what’s the meanin’ of this yer?” exclaimed
Matt, who was greatly astonished and
bewildered. “What’s the reason Jakey
didn’t land his passengers on shore ’stead of
.bn 114.png
.pn +1
dumpin’ them in the water? Do you reckon
he tipped ’em over an’ spilled that money out
into the lake? If he did, ’taint no use for me
to foller the trail any furder.”
Little dreaming how shrewd a guess he had
made, Matt filled his pipe and sat down for another
smoke. While he was trying to find
some satisfactory answers to the questions he
had propounded to himself, he was aroused by
a slight splashing in the water, and looked up
to see a light canoe close upon him. It had
rounded the point unseen, and was now so near
that any attempt at flight or concealment
would have been useless. So Matt put on a
bold face. He arose to his feet with great
deliberation, picked up his rifle, and rested it
in the hollow of his arm.
“No one man in the Injun Lake country
can ’rest me,” I heard him say, in determined
tones, “an’ if that feller knows when he’s well
off he won’t try it. Well, I do think in my
soul! If that ain’t the boy that told me to
steal Joe Wayring’s boat, I’m a sinner. He’s
the very chap I want to see, for I’ve got use
for him. Hello, there!” he added, aloud.
.bn 115.png
.pn +1
“Powerful glad to see you agin, so onexpected
like. Come ashore.”
Tom Bigden (for it was he) paused when he
heard himself addressed so familiarly, and sat
in his canoe with his double paddle suspended
in the air. He gave a quick glance at the tattered,
unkempt figure on the beach, and with
an exclamation of disgust went on his way
again.
“Say,” shouted Matt, in peremptory tones.
“Hold on a minute. I want to talk to you.”
“Well, I don’t want to talk to you,” was
Tom’s reply. “Mind your own business and
let your betters alone.”
If Tom had tried for a week he could not
have said any thing that was better calculated
to make Matt Coyle angry. The latter never
acknowledged that there was any body in the
world better than himself. Lazy, shiftless
vagabond and thief that he was, he considered
himself the equal of any industrious, saving
and honest guide in the country.
“Who’s my betters?” Matt almost yelled.
“Not you, I’d have you know. I can have
you ’rested before this time to-morrer, if I
.bn 116.png
.pn +1
feel like it, an’ I will, too, if you throw on
any more of your ’ristocratic airs with me.
Mind that, while you’re talkin’ about bein’
‘my betters.’”
“Why, you—you villain,” exclaimed Tom,
who could not find words strong enough to
express his surprise and indignation. “How
dare you talk to me in that way?”
“No more villain than yourself,” retorted
Matt, hotly, “an’ I dare talk to you in any way
I please. You don’t like it ’cause a man who
ain’t got no good clothes to wear has the
upper hand of you an’ can send you to jail
any day he feels in the humor for it, do you?
Well, that’s the way the thing stands, an’ if
you want to keep friends with me, you had
better do as I tell you.”
Tom Bigden was utterly confounded. Never
in his life before had he been so shamefully
insulted. Do as that blear-eyed ragamuffin
told him! He would cut off his right hand
first. Almost ready to boil over with rage,
Tom dipped his paddle into the water and
set his canoe in motion again.
“Well, go on if you want to,” yelled
.bn 117.png
.pn +1
Matt. “But bear one thing in mind: I’ll
leave word at the hatchery this very night,
an’ to-morrer there’ll be a constable lookin’
for you. You forget that you told me to
steal Joe Wayring’s boat down there to Sherwin’s
Pond last summer, don’t you? You
knowed I was goin’ to take it, you never said
or done a thing to hender me, an’ that makes
you a ’cessory before the fact,” added Matt
glibly, and with a ring of triumph in his
voice. “Now, will you stop an’ talk to me,
or go to jail?”
Tom was frightened as well as astonished.
He had forgotten all about that little episode
at Sherwin’s Pond, but the squatter’s threatening
words recalled it very vividly to mind.
He knew enough about law to be aware that
an accessory before the fact is one who advises
or commands another to commit a
felony, and Tom had done just that very
thing, and thereby rendered himself liable to
punishment. It is true that there were no
witnesses present when he urged Matt to
steal the canvas canoe, but there were plenty
of them around, when he advised him to steal
.bn 118.png
.pn +1
the hunting dogs belonging to the guests of
the hotels, and to turn the sail boats in Mirror
Lake adrift so that they would go through
the rapids into Sherwin’s Pond.
“Great Scott!” ejaculated Tom, as these
reflections came thronging upon him thick
and fast. “What have I done? I have put
my foot in it, and this low fellow has the
upper hand of me as sure as the world.”
I am of opinion that Tom would have given
something just then if he had not been in
such haste to take vengeance upon a boy who
never did the first thing to incur his enmity.
.bn 119.png
.pn +1
.sp 4
.h2
CHAPTER VI. | JAKE WORKS HIS MINE.
.sp 2
“I allowed you’d stop after you took
time to think the matter over,”
chuckled Matt, when he saw the boy lift his
paddle from the water and rest it across his
knee. “I ain’t forgot that you spoke kind
words to me an’ my family down there to
Mount Airy when every body else was jawin’
at us an’ tryin’ to kick us outen house an’
home, an’ I’d be glad to be friends with you,”
he added, in a more conciliatory tone. “But
I ain’t goin’ to stand no airs of no sort. Now,
come ashore so’t I can talk to you.”
“What do you want to say to me?” asked
Tom, who could hardly refrain from yelling in
the ecstasy of his rage. The man talked as
though he had a perfect right to command him.
“Speak out, if you have any thing on your
.bn 120.png
.pn +1
mind. I can hear it from my canoe as well as
I could ashore.”
“Well, I shan’t speak out, nuther,” answered
Matt, decidedly. “I ain’t goin’ to talk
so’t they can hear me clear up to Injun Lake.
Come ashore.”
Tom reluctantly obeyed; that is, he ran the
bow of his canoe upon the beach, but that was
as far as he would go.
“I am as near shore as I am going to get,”
said he, with a little show of spirit. “Now
what have you to say to me? Be in a hurry,
for my friends are waiting for me.”
“Well, you needn’t get huffy about it,” replied
Matt, backing toward his log and pulling
his pipe from his pocket. “I can tell you in
a few words what I want you to do for me, an’
as for your friends, they can wait till their
hurry’s over. Say,” added the squatter, sinking
his voice to a confidential whisper, “you
know I told you when I stole this here canvas
canoe that I was comin’ to Injun Lake to go
into the business of independent guidin’. You
remember that, don’t you?”
“Well, what of it?” was the only response
.bn 121.png
.pn +1
Tom deigned to make. “No matter what I
remember. Go on with what you have to say
to me.”
“Don’t get in a persp’ration,” continued
Matt, with the most exasperating deliberation.
“Yes; that’s one thing that made me
take the canvas canoe—so’t I could go into the
business of guidin’ on my own hook; but when
I got here I found that the landlords wouldn’t
have nuthin’ to do with me, an’ the guests
wouldn’t, nuther. So I took to visitin’ all the
camps I could hear of, an’ helpin’ myself to
what I could find in ’em in the way of grub,
we’pons an’ sich. I told you that was what I
was goin’ to do. You remember it, don’t
you?”
Tom made a gesture of impatience but said
nothing.
“Yes; that’s what I done, an’ it wasn’t long
before I kicked up the biggest kind of a row
up there to Injun Lake,” said the squatter,
pounding his knees with his clenched hands
and shaking all over with suppressed merriment.
“The women-folks dassent go into the
woods for fear that they would run foul of me
.bn 122.png
.pn +1
when they wasn’t lookin’ for it, an’ some of
the guests told Hanson—he’s the new landlord,
you know—that if he didn’t have me took up
an’ put in jail they’d never come nigh him
agin. Oh, I tell you I’ve done a heap since me
an’ you had that little talk up there to Sherwin’s
Pond, an’ I’m goin’ to do a heap more
before the season’s over. I said I’d bust up
guidin’ an’ the hotels along with it, an’ I’m
goin’ to keep my word. I’ll l’arn them ’ristocrats
that I’m jest as good as they ever dare
be, even if I ain’t got no good clothes to
wear.”
Tom Bigden was intensely disgusted. Matt
talked to him as unreservedly as he might have
talked to an accomplice. When he paused to
light his pipe Tom managed to say—
“You hinted last summer that you intended
to kidnap little children if you got a good
chance. Have you tried it?”
“Not yet I ain’t, but there’s no tellin’ what
I may do if they don’t quit crowdin’ on me,”
replied Matt, with a grin. “That is one of the
tricks I still hold in my hand. I must have
money to buy grub an’ things, an’ since I ain’t
.bn 123.png
.pn +1
allowed to earn it honest, as I would like to do,
I must get it any way I can. An’ this brings
me to what I want to say to you.”
“I am very glad to hear it,” answered Tom.
“Now I hope you will hurry up. I am getting
tired of listening to your senseless gabble.
I am in no way interested in what you
have done or what you intend to do. What
do you want of me? That’s all I care to
know.”
“Don’t get in a persp’ration,” said the
squatter again. “Yes; I visited all the camps
I could hear of, like I told you, an’ among
other things I took outen them camps were two
scatter-guns an’ a rifle. One of the scatter-guns
I give up agin, an’ I got ten dollars for doin’
it, too.”
“Well, what do I care about that?” said
Tom, when Matt paused and looked at him.
“I tell you I am not interested in these things.
Come to the point at once.”
“I’m comin’ to it,” answered the squatter.
“I give up one of the scatter-guns, like I told
you, but t’other one an’ the rifle I’ve got yet.
There’s been a reward of a hundred dollars
.bn 124.png
.pn +1
offered for them two guns—fifty dollars apiece—an’
I want it.”
“Then why don’t you give up the guns and
claim it?”
“Now, jest listen at the fule!” exclaimed
Matt. “I dassent, ’cause there’s been a
reward of a hundred more dollars offered for
the man that stole them guns. That’s me. I
can’t go up to Injun Lake to take them guns
back to the men that owns ’em, an’ I’m
afeared to send the boys, ’cause they would be
took up the same as I would. See?”
“Yes, I see; but I don’t know what you are
going to do about it. You’ve got the guns,
and if you are afraid to give them up you will
have to keep them. I don’t see any other way
for you to do.”
“I do,” said Matt; and there was something
in the tone of his voice that made Tom
uneasy. “I don’t want the guns, ’cause I
can’t use ’em; but I do want the money, an’
that’s what I am goin’ to talk to you about.
I want you to buy them guns—”
“Well, I shan’t do it,” exclaimed Tom,
who was fairly staggered by this proposition.
.bn 125.png
.pn +1
“I’ve got one gun, and that’s all I need. Besides,
I am not going to become a receiver of
stolen property.”
“I’ll give ’em to you for twenty-five dollars
apiece,” continued Matt, paying no heed to
the interruption, “an’ you can take ’em up to
Injun Lake an’ claim the whole of the reward.
You’ll make fifty dollars by it.”
“I tell you I won’t do it,” repeated Tom.
“I’ll not have any thing to do with it. I’m
not going to get myself into trouble for the
sake of putting money into your pocket.”
“There ain’t no need of your gettin’ yourself
into trouble less’n you want to. When
you take the guns up to Hanson you can tell
him that you found ’em in the bresh—that you
didn’t know who they belonged to, an’ so you
made up your decision that you had better
take ’em to him. See? That’ll be all fair an’
squar’, an’ nobody will ever suspicion that I
give ’em to you. Come to think on it, I won’t
give ’em to you,” added Matt. “You hand
me the twenty-five dollars apiece, an’ I will
tell you right where the guns is hid, an’ you
can go up there an’ get ’em. Then when you
.bn 126.png
.pn +1
tell Hanson that you found ’em in the bresh
you will tell him nothing but the truth.
What do you say?”
“I say I haven’t got fifty dollars to spend
in any such way,” answered Tom. He wished
from the bottom of his heart that he had
pluck enough to defy the squatter, but he
hadn’t. It cut him to the quick to be obliged
to sit there and hear himself addressed so
familiarly by such a fellow as Matt Coyle, but
he could not see any way of escape. The man
had it in his power to make serious trouble
for him.
“Ain’t you got that much money about
your good clothes?” asked Matt, incredulously.
“I haven’t fifty cents to my name.”
“You can’t make me b’lieve that. You
wouldn’t come to Injun Lake without no
money to pay your expenses. Don’t stand to
reason, that don’t.”
“My cousin Ralph carries the purse and
foots all our bills; but he hasn’t half that
amount left. We are pretty near strapped
and almost ready to go home.”
.bn 127.png
.pn +1
“Well, I won’t be hard on you,” said Matt.
“I am the accommodatin’est feller you ever
see. Go home, ask your pap for the money,
an’ come back an’ hand it to me. That’s fair,
ain’t it? Mount Airy is a hundred miles from
Injun Lake. You oughter go an’ come back
in ten days. I’ll give you that long. What
do you say?”
“I’ll think about it,” replied Tom, whose
sole object just then was to get out of hearing
of Matt Coyle’s voice. As he spoke
he placed one blade of his paddle against the
bottom and shoved his canoe out into deep
water.
“That won’t do, that won’t,” exclaimed
Matt. “I want to know whether or not you
are goin’ to bring me that money.”
“That depends upon whether I can get it
or not.”
“’Cause you needn’t think you can get
away from me by jest goin’ up to Mount
Airy,” continued Matt. “There’s constables
up there same’s there is at Injun Lake, an’ a
word dropped at the hatchery will reach ’em
mighty easy. If you want me to be friends
.bn 128.png
.pn +1
with you, you won’t sleep sound till you bring
me that fifty dollars.”
“I wonder if any other living boy ever submitted
so tamely to such an insult,” soliloquized
Tom, as he headed his canoe up the
lake and paddled back toward the point.
“That villain holds me completely in his
power. He can disgrace me before the whole
village of Mount Airy any time he sees fit to
do so. The minute he is arrested and brought
to trial, just that minute I am done for. If I
give him fifty dollars for those guns, how
much better off will I be? He will have a still
firmer hold upon me. He’ll rob other camps,
compel me to buy his plunder by threats of
exposure, and the first thing I know I shall be
a professional ‘fence’—receiver of stolen
goods. By gracious!” exclaimed Tom, redoubling
his efforts at the paddle as if he
hoped to run away from the gloomy thoughts
that pressed so thickly upon him. “What
am I coming to? What have I come to?”
“There, now,” I heard Matt mutter, as he
stood with his hands on his hips, watching
Tom Bigden’s receding figure. “I’ve done
.bn 129.png
.pn +1
two good strokes of business this morning.
I’ve brought that feller down a peg or two,
an’ I have pervided for gettin’ shet of them
guns in a way I didn’t look for. I thought
for one spell that they wasn’t goin’ to be of no
use to me, but now I shall make fifty dollars
clean cash outen ’em. He’ll bring it to me,
for if he don’t I’ll tell on him sure, an’ then
he’ll be in a pretty fix with all them people
up there to Mount Airy knowin’ to his meanness.
It hurts these ’ristocrats to have a feller
like me to talk to ’em as I talked to that
Bigden boy; I can see that plain enough.
Well, they ain’t got no business to have so
much money an’ so many fine things, while
me an’ my family is so poor that we don’t
know where our next pair of shoes is comin’
from.”
Highly pleased with the result of his interview
with Tom Bigden, Matt shoved the canvas
canoe into the water and pulled slowly
toward the outlet, once more passing directly
over Jake’s silver mine. Perhaps the sunken
treasure had some occult influence upon him,
for he straightway dismissed Tom from his
.bn 130.png
.pn +1
mind, and thought about Jake and the robbers
and the six thousand dollars.
“Don’t stand to reason that Jakey would a
told me that he hadn’t seen them robbers less’n
he had some excuse for it,” said Matt, to himself.
“He did see ’em, an’ I know it. He
took ’em across the lake, too. He didn’t do
it for nothing, so he’s got money. I’ll speak
to him about it when I get home, an’ then I’ll
make it my business to keep an eye on
him.”
Having come to this determination Matt
dismissed Jake as well as Tom from his
thoughts, and made all haste to reach the outlet,
not forgetting as he paddled swiftly along
to keep a close watch of the woods on shore.
Mr. Swan and a large squad of guides and constables
were in there somewhere, and Matt
Coyle had a wholesome fear of them. When
I ran upon the beach at the head of the outlet,
I was not very much surprised to see Jake
step out of the bushes and come forward to
meet his father. The boy must have been in
great suspense all the morning, and although
he was almost bursting with impatience to
.bn 131.png
.pn +1
know whether or not his father had discovered
any thing during his absence he could not
muster up courage enough to ask any questions.
But Matt began the conversation himself.
“Jakey,” said he, reproachfully. “I didn’t
think you would get so low down in the world
as to go an’ fool your pap the way you done
this mornin’. You told me you hadn’t seen
hide nor hair of them robbers, an’ that wasn’t
so. You did see ’em, an’ you took ’em across
the lake, too. But you didn’t land ’em on
this side; you dumped ’em out into the water.
Now how much did you get for it?”
Jake was not so much taken aback as I
thought he would be. He had been expecting
something of this kind and was prepared for
it. He knew that his father was an adept at
reading “sign,” and he was as well satisfied
as he wanted to be that his five dollars ferry
money would never do him any good. The
question was: How much more had his father
learned? Did he know any thing about the
silver mine? Jake didn’t believe he did, else
he would have been more jubilant. A man
.bn 132.png
.pn +1
who knew where he could put his hand on six
thousand dollars at any moment would not
look as sober as Matt Coyle did.
“I didn’t get nothin’ for dumpin’ on ’em
out, pap,” replied Jake, after a little pause.
“That was somethin’ I couldn’t help. The
night was dark, an’ I didn’t see the snag till I
was clost onto it.”
“Well, what become of the six thousand
dollars they had with ’em?” inquired Matt,
looking sharply at the boy, who met his gaze
without flinching. “Did you see any thing of
it?”
“I seen a couple of grip-sacks into their
hands, but I didn’t ask ’em what was in ’em,”
answered Jake. He looked very innocent and
truthful when he said it, but his father was
not deceived. He had known Jake to tell lies
before.
“What become of the grip-sacks when you
run onto the snag an’ spilled ’em out?” asked
Matt.
“They hung fast to ’em an’ took ’em
ashore an’ into the woods where I didn’t see
’em no more.”
.bn 133.png
.pn +1
“How much did you get for takin’ the robbers
over the lake?”
“Jest five dollars; an’ there it is,” said Jake,
who knew that the money would have to be
produced sooner or later.
“Now jest look at the fule!” shouted Matt,
going off into a sudden paroxysm of rage.
“Five dollars, an’ them with six thousand
stolen dollars into their grip-sacks! Jake, I’ve
the best notion in the world to cut me a hickory
an’ wear it out over your back.”
Jake began to look wild. When his father
talked that way things were getting serious.
“Hold on a minute, pap,” he protested, as
Matt pulled his knife from his pocket and
started toward the bushes. “How was I goin’
to know that they had all that money an’ that
it was stole from the bank? If I had knowed
it, I would a taxed ’em a hundred dollars, sure;
but I thought they had clothes an’ things in
them grip-sacks.”
Matt paused, reflected a moment, and then
shut up his knife and put it into his pocket.
“Why didn’t you tell me that you had made
five dollars by takin’ ’em over ’stead of sayin’
.bn 134.png
.pn +1
that you hadn’t never seed ’em?” he demanded.
“’Cause I wanted to keep the money to get me
some shoes,” answered Jake, telling the truth
this time. “Winter’s comin’ on, an’ I don’t want
to go around with my feet in the snow, like I
done last year. I’ll give you half, pap, an’
then you can get some shoes for yourself.”
To Jake’s great amazement his father replied—
“No, sonny, you keep it. You earned it,
fair and squar’, an’ I won’t take it from you.
I shall make fifty dollars hard cash outen them
guns we’ve got hid in the bresh, an’ that will
be enough to run me for a little while. Now
take your boat to pieces an’ bring him up to the
house.”
So saying, Matt Coyle walked off, leaving
Jake lost in wonder.
“Well, this beats me,” said the boy, after
he had taken a minute or two to collect his
wits. “Pap wouldn’t take half my five dollars,
an’ he’s found a way to make fifty dollars
outen them guns! I don’t b’lieve it,”
added Jake, his face growing white with excitement
.bn 135.png
.pn +1
and alarm. “He’s found my silver
mind; that’s what’s the matter of him.”
The contortions Jake went through when
this unwelcome conviction forced itself upon
him were wonderful. He strode along the
beach, pulling his hair one minute and clapping
his hands and jumping up and down in his
tracks the next, and acting altogether as if he
had taken leave of his senses. I had never
before witnessed such a performance, having
always been accustomed to the companionship
of those who were able to control themselves,
under any and all circumstances. After a
little while he ceased his demonstrations, and
picking me up bodily, carried me into the
bushes and left me there.
“I won’t take him to pieces, nuther,” said
Jake, aloud. “I’ll leave him here so’t I can
get him without pap’s bein’ knowin’ to it, an’
when night comes I’ll go up an’ see after my
silver mind. If pap has found it, he’ll have to
give me half of it, cash in hand, or I’ll tell on
him.”
Although Jake really believed that his
“claim” had been “jumped,” he did not
.bn 136.png
.pn +1
neglect to make preparations for working it in
case he found his fears were groundless. He
came back to me about the middle of the afternoon,
and as he approached I saw him take
a long, stout line out of his pocket. What he
intended to do with it I could not tell; but I
found out an hour or two afterward, for then I
had a second visitor in the person of Matt
Coyle, who came stealing through the bushes
without causing a leaf to rustle. He stopped
beside me and picked up the line.
“He didn’t take the canoe to pieces an’ carry
him up to the house, like I told him to, an’
he’s stole his mam’s clothes-line and brung it
down here,” said Matt to himself. “Now,
what did he do that for? He’s goin’ to use
’em both to-night, Jakey is, an’ what’s he goin’
to do with ’em? He’s a mighty smart boy,
but he’ll find that he can’t fool his pap.”
The hours passed slowly away, and finally
the woods were shrouded in almost impenetrable
darkness. The time for action was
drawing near. I waited for it impatiently,
because I was sure that the temporary ownership
of those six thousand dollars would be
.bn 137.png
.pn +1
decided before morning, and I felt some
curiosity to know who was going to get them.
While I was thinking about it, Jake Coyle
glided up and laid hold of me. In two minutes
more I was in the water and making good
time up the lake towards the sunken silver
mine; but before I had left the woods at the
head of the outlet very far behind I became
aware that we were followed. I distinctly saw
a light Indian Lake skiff put out from the
shadow of the trees and follow silently in our
wake. The boat was one of the two that had
been stolen by Matt and his family on the day
that Mr. Swan and his party burned their
camp; and, although the night was dark, I
was as certain as I could be that its solitary
occupant was Matt Coyle himself. He held
close in to the trees on the left hand side of the
lake, and as often as Jake stopped and looked
back the pursuer stopped also; and, as he took
care to keep in the shadow, of course he could
not be seen.
“Pap thinks he’s smart,” muttered Jake,
after he had made a long halt and looked up
and down the lake to satisfy himself that there
.bn 138.png
.pn +1
was no one observing his movements, “an’
p’raps he is, but not smart enough to get away
with the whole of them six thousand. If I
don’t find them grip-sacks, I shall know sure
enough that he’s been here before me; an’ if
he don’t hand over half of it the minute I get
home I’ll tell on him afore sun-up. Here I
am, an’ it take me long to see how the
thing stands.”
As Jake said this, he drew up alongside the
snag and dropped the anchor overboard. He
must have been in a fearful state of suspense,
for I could feel that he was trembling in every
limb. When he came to divest himself of his
clothes, preparatory to going down after the
money, his hands shook so violently that he
could scarcely find the few buttons that held
them together. He didn’t dive, for the splash
could have been heard a long distance in the
stillness of the night, and might have attracted
somebody’s attention. He made one end of the
clothes-line fast to a brace, took the other in
his hand, and, lowering himself gently over the
stern of the canoe, drew in a long breath and
sank out of sight. He was gone a full minute;
.bn 139.png
.pn +1
but before he came to the surface I knew he
had been successful in his search, for I could
tell by the way the line sawed back and forth
over the gunwale that he was tying it to something.
An instant later his head bobbed up
close alongside, and then Jake essayed the
somewhat difficult task of clambering back into
the canoe. Being a remarkably active young
fellow, he accomplished it with much more
ease than I expected; and no sooner had he
gained his feet than he began hauling in on
the line with almost frantic haste.
“I’ve got one of ’em! I’ve got one of ’em!”
he kept on saying over and over again; and a
second afterward one of the little valises was
whipped out of the water and deposited on the
bottom of the canoe. “Pap didn’t find my
silver mind, like I was afeard of, an’ it’s mine,
all mine. I’m rich.”
Forgetting where he was in the excess of his
glee, Jake jumped up and knocked his heels
together; but when he came down I wasn’t
there to meet him. He gave me a shove that
sent me to one side, and Jake disappeared in
the water. He was greatly alarmed by the
.bn 140.png
.pn +1
noise he made, and during the next five minutes
remained perfectly motionless. Supporting
himself by holding fast to the anchor rope, he
waited and listened. He was so quiet that he
scarcely seemed to breathe; and all this while
an equally motionless and silent figure sat in
the skiff, not more than fifty yards away, taking
note of every thing that happened in the
vicinity of the snag.
The deep silence that brooded over the lake
deceived Jake, and he made ready to go down
after the rest of the money. He was not out
of sight more than half a minute, and again
the sawing of the line told me that he had
found the object of his search. There was
another short, frantic struggle to get into the
canoe, a hasty pull at the rope, and the second
valise was jerked out of the water and placed
safely beside its companion. Jake Coyle had
worked his silver mine to some purpose.
.bn 141.png
.pn +1
.sp 4
.h2
CHAPTER VII. | AMONG FRIENDS AGAIN.
.sp 2
I cannot give you even a faint idea of
the extravagant demonstrations of delight
to which Jake Coyle gave way when he saw
the two valises deposited side by side on the
bottom of the canoe. He had been tormented
by the fear that his father had found and appropriated
the money, and he could not convince
himself that those fears were groundless,
until he had opened both the valises and
plunged his hands among the glittering silver
pieces with which they were filled almost to
the top. Then he threw himself back in the
stern of the canoe and panted as if he were
utterly exhausted with his exertions.
“I do think in my soul that I’ve got it,”
said he, in an excited whisper. “Now what’ll
I do with it to keep it safe? If pap or that
Sam of our’n——”
For some reason or other Jake became
.bn 142.png
.pn +1
frightened when he thought of his father and
brother. The idea of sharing his ill-gotten
gains with them never once entered his head.
He scrambled to his feet and hastily pulled on
his clothes, after which he raised the anchor
and paddled up the lake. As soon as I got
under way the pursuing skiff was set in
motion also; but I lost sight of it after we
rounded the first point and entered the mouth
of the creek which had been the scene of Joe
Wayring’s exciting encounter with Matt Coyle
and his boys a few weeks before.
Up this creek Jake paddled as swiftly as he
could, his object being to find a hiding-place
for the money so remote from the hatchery
that no one who lived about there would be
likely to stumble upon it. For two hours he
never slackened his pace, and by that time I
became aware that we were drawing near to
the site of Matt’s old camp—the one that had
been destroyed by Mr. Swan and his party.
A few minutes later I passed through the
little water-way that connected the creek with
the cove, and there Jake made a landing and
got out.
.bn 143.png
.pn +1
“I’ve heared them say that lightning don’t
strike two times in the same place,” said he,
as he drew me higher upon the beach and took
hold of the valises, “an’ that’s what made me
come up here. Swan has been here once an’
done all the damage he could, an’ ’tain’t no
ways likely that he’ll come agin. Pap dassent
come so fur from home, ’cause he’s that scared
of the constables that he sticks clost to the
shanty all the time, an’ don’t even go huntin’
for squirrels; so I reckon the woods about
here are the best place I can find to hide my
money. I’ll leave my canoe, too, an’ then, when
I get ready to strike out for myself, I’ll have
him an’ the money an’ both them fine guns
right where I can lay my hands onto ’em.”
So saying Jake disappeared in the bushes,
taking the valises with him. He was gone
half an hour, and when he returned he proceeded
to fold me up and tie me together
with a piece of rope. This done he found a
hiding-place for me under a pile of brush
about twenty feet from the spot where the
lean-to stood before it was burned, and, after
covering me up as well as he could in the
.bn 144.png
.pn +1
dark, glided away with noiseless footsteps.
It was a long time before I saw him again, but
he had not been gone more than five minutes
when I heard a slight rustling among the
leaves and a snapping of twigs as if some one
was walking cautiously over them. Then I
knew I was not alone in the woods. Who my
invisible companion was I could not tell for
certain, but I believed it was the occupant of
the skiff that had followed us from the outlet.
He revealed his identity when he came near
my place of concealment, for I recognized his
voice. It was Matt Coyle. He had kept Jake
in sight until he saw him paddle into the
creek, and then he landed and took to the
woods. Something told him where the boy
was going with the money he had fished out
of the lake, and by going afoot and taking a
short cut he gained on Jake so much that he
arrived in the vicinity of his old camp at least
ten minutes ahead of him. But he could not
see where the valises had been hidden—the
woods were too dark for that—and now he
was trying his best to find them, as I learned
from his soliloquy.
.bn 145.png
.pn +1
“He’s a pretty smart boy, Jakey is, but not
smart enough to fool his pap,” I heard him
say. “The ondutiful scamp! I had oughter
wear a hickory out on him the minute I get
home; but here’s the diffikilty; if I do that
he’ll tell Rube where them fine guns is hid,
an’ the minute they are give up to their
owners then Rube’11 turn squar’ around an’
have me took up for the sake of gettin’ the
reward. See? If I can find the money all
unbeknownst to Jakey, an’ take it off an’ hide
it somewhere else, so’t I can find it every time
I want to use a dollar or two, then Jakey’11
think that the constables have stumbled on it,
an’ he won’t never say a word; but if I try to
force him to give it up there’ll be a furse,
sure. He’s like his pap, Jakey is. It won’t
do to crowd him too fur. Mebbe it’s in yer.”
Matt bent over my hiding-place and thrust
his hand into the pile of brush. He felt all
over and around me, and uttered many an
exclamation of anger and disgust when he
found that the valises were not there with
me. He spent the whole of the night in
tramping about the woods in my neighborhood,
.bn 146.png
.pn +1
and how he missed the objects of his
search I don’t know to this day. He rested a
little while before daylight—at least I thought
he did, for the sound of his footsteps ceased
for an hour or two—but as soon as he could
see where he was going he was up and at it
again; but this time he was interrupted.
Deeply interested as he was in his search, he
did not neglect to keep his eyes and ears open,
and consequently he did not fail to hear the
threatening sounds that came to him on the
morning breeze. I heard them a few minutes
afterward, and would have shouted with
delight if I had possessed the power. Mr.
Swan and his party were approaching.
Although I could not see them I was certain of
it, for I had been in the guide’s company so
often that I could have recognized his voice
among a thousand. Presently they came close
to my hiding-place and I heard one of the
party say—
“Here’s where Matt’s lean-to stood. We
came pretty near catching the sly old coon that
day, but he must have had some member of his
family on the watch. We found the fire burning
.bn 147.png
.pn +1
and the dinner under way, but Matt was
nowhere to be seen.”
“They have been back here since then, and
within a few hours, too,” said Mr. Swan.
“See how the leaves are kicked up. Let’s
look around, boys, and perhaps we shall find
something.”
I was delighted to hear this order. The
“boys” began to look about at once, and one
of them followed Matt’s trail straight to my
place of concealment. The constable who
accompanied him kicked the pile of brush to
pieces, caught hold of the rope with which I
was bound, and dragged me into view. The
first words he spoke seemed to indicate
that he had never seen any thing like me
before.
“What in the name of common sense is
this?” said he.
“That?” replied Mr. Swan, who stood close
by. “Oh, that is Joe Wayring’s canvas canoe—an
old thing that saw his best days years
ago. But Joe thinks a heap of him and will
be mighty glad to get him again. I haven’t
got any thing to do just now, and so I will
.bn 148.png
.pn +1
make it my business to take the canoe up to
him. Joe is a good fellow, and I shall be glad
to do that much for him.”
Thank goodness, I was in a fair way to see
Joe Wayring once more! I was as happy as I
wanted to be after that. I hoped Mr. Swan
would take me home at once, for I was impatient
to see Fly-rod and the long bows and the
toboggan and all the rest of my friends in
Mount Airy. I looked around at the members
of the squad and saw many familiar faces
among them. In fact, I had seen them all at
one time or another, with the exception—could
I believe my eyes? I looked again, and told
myself that there could be no mistake about
it. There were two strangers among them, and
they were dressed in slouch hats and long dark
coats. They were neither hand-cuffed nor
bound, but they were closely watched by two
armed officers who took no part in beating the
bushes. They were the bank robbers—the very
men I had tumbled out into the lake. If I had
had the slightest doubt of their identity it
would have been dispelled when the deputy
sheriff said—“Now,
.bn 149.png
.pn +1
boys, we’ve got some evidence.
Who can stretch this canvas canoe?”
Mr. Swan replied that he could, and he did.
Under his skillful hands I quickly assumed
my usual symmetrical proportions; but before
he was through with me one of the robbers
called out—
“That’s the boat. That’s the very boat that
we started to cross the lake in.”
“How do you know?” asked the sheriff.
“Because, as we told you, we examined him
with the aid of a lighted match before we
would trust ourselves to him,” replied one of
the prisoners. “I believe that boy tipped us
over on purpose.”
“I haven’t the least doubt of it,” assented
the sheriff. “You let him see the inside of
one of the valises, and of course the sight of
so much money excited his cupidity.”
“I hope Jim didn’t hit him when he shot at
him,” said the other robber, in an anxious
tone.
“Haven’t I told you more than a dozen
times that you need not borrow trouble on that
score?” asked the officer. “If the boy had
.bn 150.png
.pn +1
been hurt we should probably have heard of it
when we crossed the outlet at the hatchery the
next morning. Robbing the bank is all you
will have to answer for.”
And wasn’t that enough? I wondered. I
did not know just what the penalty was
for the offense of which they were guilty,
but I did know that they were destined to
pass some of the best years of their lives in
prison. I was surprised to hear the sheriff
talk so familiarly with the robbers, but really
there was nothing surprising in it. Having
captured them, as he was in duty bound to do,
he showed them as much consideration as he
showed the guides he had summoned to his
assistance, but he kept a sharp eye on them to
see that they did not escape.
“Put him together again, Swan, and we will
go on and pay our respects to Jake Coyle,”
continued the officer. “It is possible that he
intends to return the money and claim the
reward. If he does—”
“Don’t fool yourself,” said Mr. Swan, with
a laugh. “If Jake ran into that snag on purpose,
he did it with the intention of fishing up
.bn 151.png
.pn +1
that money and keeping it. He can’t claim
the reward, for there is a warrant out for him.
He helped to steal this canvas canoe.”
Having tied me together with the rope, Mr.
Swan raised me to his shoulder, ordered the
guides to stop talking, and the entire posse
set off through the woods in the direction of
the hatchery. As they drew near to it they
spread out right and left, forming a sort of
skirmish line which was so long that those on
the flanks were out of sight of one another, and
in this order moved forward with increased caution.
The sheriff and Mr. Swan remained in the
center with the two prisoners, the latter holding
me in one hand and a revolver in the other. The
officer consulted his watch very frequently,
and at the end of ten minutes moved out of the
bushes to the “carry,” followed by Mr. Swan
and the captives. Then I understood the
meaning of this maneuver. The sheriff’s
object was to surround Rube’s cabin and capture
the inmates.
As soon as he reached the “carry” the
sheriff gave a shrill whistle and ran forward at
the top of his speed, leaving the guide to follow
.bn 152.png
.pn +1
with the prisoners. When we came within
sight of the cabin a few minutes later I saw
the entire posse gathered around it, and the
sheriff and Rube standing in the doorway, the
latter rubbing his eyes as if he had just been
aroused from a sound sleep.
“Sold again,” said the officer, as Mr. Swan
came up.
“There, now!” exclaimed the guide, who
was profoundly astonished. “Well, I told
you that Matt was a sly old fox, and that
you’d have to be mighty sly yourself if you
caught him. The young ones are chips of the
old block, and can dodge about in the woods
like so many partridges. How did he find out
that we were coming, do you reckon?”
“That’s a mystery,” answered the sheriff.
I could have told him that it was no mystery
to me. The officer and his posse had made a
good deal of noise in coming through the
woods, and of course Matt Coyle heard them
long before they came in sight. Knowing that
they would have to go to the hatchery in order
to procure boats to cross the outlet, he took to
his heels in short order, made the best of his
.bn 153.png
.pn +1
way to the cabin, and started his family off
into the woods. That was all there was of it,
but it proved the truth of the remark Mr. Swan
once made in Joe Wayring’s hearing—that
Matt Coyle always had luck on his side. The
fugitives did not awaken Rube, for they knew
that he had nothing to fear from the officers of
the law. I had often wondered what sort of a
game the watchman was up to (I was as sure
that he was playing a part as Matt was), and
now I was given some insight into it.
“You would ’a’ ruined Hanson if you’d
arrested Matt Coyle,” said Rube, when the
guide ceased speaking. “If you take him up
afore them guns is found he’ll lose a dozen
good customers next season, Hanson will,
’cause they say they’ll never come back to his
hotel till their property is given up to ’em.
You don’t want to be in too big a hurry.
Both the boys has offered to give me the guns
for half the reward, an’ as soon as they tell me
where they are hid I’ll bring ’em up to the
lake. Then you can ’rest Matt, as soon as
you please.”
“I wasn’t after Matt, although I should
.bn 154.png
.pn +1
have taken him in if I had found him here,”
answered the sheriff. “I was looking for
Jake.”
“What’s he been a doin’ of?”
“We think he knows something about the
money that was stolen from the Irvington
bank.”
“I know he does,” said Rube, earnestly.
“I thought so yesterday morning, when I was
readin’ about it in the paper that Swan give
me, an’ I thought so last night when I stood
at the head of the outlet an’ saw him go up
the lake in the canvas canoe. Say,” he added,
in a lower tone, “is them two fellers the
robbers?”
The officer nodded.
“An’ do you reckon Jake knows where they
hid the money?”
“We don’t think they hid it. Jake capsized
them, and turned the money out into the
lake.”
“Well, I’ll bet you it ain’t there now,” said
Rube. “Jake got it up last night, less’n Matt
stopped him.”
“Was Matt with him?”
.bn 155.png
.pn +1
“He follered him in one of the boats that
he stole from you fellers up the creek on the
day you burned his camp.”
“Where are those boats now?” inquired
Mr. Swan.
“Up to the head of the outlet, hid in the
bresh. I can show ’em to you any time.”
“Come on and do it then,” said the Sheriff.
“There’s no use wasting time here. It won’t
take us long to row up to that snag and see if
the money is there. Four of us are enough.
We will take one of the prisoners with us to
show us right where the snag is, and the other
can stay here.”
Having designated by name the guides whom
he wished to accompany him, the sheriff followed
Rube through the woods toward the
place where the skiffs were concealed, Mr.
Swan bringing up the rear with me on his
shoulder. The skiffs were quickly hauled out
of their hiding-places and launched, and at
the end of an hour we were all anchored alongside
the snag, and two of the guides were
searching the bottom of the lake for the valises,
which I knew to be all of ten miles from there
.bn 156.png
.pn +1
in a straight line, and twenty by water. At
last the guides came up and reported that
there was no use of looking any longer. The
grip-sacks were not there.
“Are you sure that this is the snag on which
that boy capsized you?” inquired the sheriff.
“As sure as I can be,” replied the prisoner,
to whom the question was addressed. “It was
the first one he came to, and it was directly
opposite the house whose cellar he robbed.
Are you going to give up looking?” he added,
as the guides climbed back into their skiff.
“I hate to think that that villain will remain
at liberty to enjoy that six thousand, after all
the risk Tony and I ran to get it.”
“He’ll not remain at liberty very long,”
answered the sheriff, with some asperity.
“I’d have you know that I understand my
business. I pledge you my word that you
will see him in New London jail in less than a
week after you get there.”
This assurance seemed to satisfy the robber
that justice would be done, and he had no
more to say.
In obedience to the sheriff’s order the guides
.bn 157.png
.pn +1
pulled back to the outlet and landed in front
of the hatchery. The rest of the posse were
ferried over to the opposite side and set out on
foot for Indian Lake, all except the other
prisoner, who was taken into the canvas canoe
with Mr. Swan.
When we reached the lake I learned that
there had been a regular exodus from the
woods during the last two days. As soon as
the women and children who were in camp
heard that there were a couple of bank robbers
hiding somewhere in the wilderness, they made
all haste to get back to the hotels, where they
knew they would be safe. Both the landlords
were in a state of mind that can hardly be described.
The season was not half over, and yet
some of their guests were leaving every day,
bound for other places of resort where thieves
were not quite so plenty. Matt Coyle would
have hugged himself with delight if he could
have heard what I did. I arrived at the lake
about nine o’clock in the morning, and at nine
o’clock that night Mr. Swan and I were well
on our way toward Mount Airy, which we
reached without any mishap. We found Joe
.bn 158.png
.pn +1
and his two chums, Roy and Arthur, enjoying
a sail on the lake in the Young Republic.
“I kinder thought you would like to have
your canoe back again, and so I brought him
up,” said Mr. Swan, when he had shaken
hands with the boys. “No, I won’t take
nothing for it, and I can’t go up to your house
and stay over night, neither. I’ve got to get
back as soon as I can, for there’s plenty of
work to be done at Indian Lake. The Irvington
bank robbers have been captured, but Matt
Coyle and his boys are still at large, and they’ll
ruinate our business and the hotels’ business,
too, if we don’t tend to ’em right along.”
While the guide was telling the boys how
the robbers had been hunted down and captured,
he took hold of the rope with which I
was tied and lifted me out of his skiff into the
sail-boat, and then he said good-by and pulled
away, while the Young Republic came about
and scudded back toward Mr. Wayring’s
wharf.
Fly-rod told you, at the conclusion of his
narrative, that when Joe Wayring returned
from his trip to Indian Lake he expected to
.bn 159.png
.pn +1
meet his uncle, who was to take him and his
chums on an extended canoe trip to some distant
part of the country, “either east or west,
they didn’t know which;” but in this he was
disappointed. Uncle Joe had been called away
on important business, and the probabilities
were that if they took their proposed trip at
all it would not be until near the end of the
vacation, and then it would be a very short
one. So, for want of something better to do,
Joe Wayring proposed an immediate return to
Indian Lake.
“The time is our own until the first Monday
in September,” said he, “and what’s the use of
staying around the village and doing nothing?
We know we can enjoy ourselves at the lake,
but this time we’ll give Matt Coyle and his
boys a wide berth. We’ll leave the regular
routes of travel, and visit the famous spring-hole
that Mr. Swan has so often described to
us.”
Arthur and Roy readily agreed to the proposition,
and on the day I was restored to my
lawful master the arrangements for the return
trip had all been completed. They were only
.bn 160.png
.pn +1
waiting for Fly-rod, whose broken joint was
being repaired by a skilled mechanic. He came
the day after I got home, and you may be sure
I was glad to see him once more. We passed
the night in relating our adventures and exploits,
and daylight the next morning found
us on the wharf, waiting for Arthur Hastings
to bring up the skiff.
The trip down the river, through the pond
where the “battle in the dark” took place,
and thence to Indian lake, was made without
the occurrence of any incident worthy of note,
and in due time the skiff was run upon the
beach in front of the Sportman’s Home. We
did not see Matt Coyle or any of his family on
the way, but we heard of them in less than ten
minutes after we arrived at the lake. While
Joe and his chums were overhauling the stern
locker, in search of the letters they had written
the night before, Mr. Swan came up.
“You’re here, ain’t you?” said he, in his
cheery way. “Now you are off for that
spring-hole, I Well, if you will go
into the woods without a guide to take care of
you, No-Man’s Pond is the safest place for
.bn 161.png
.pn +1
you. But you want to watch out for Matt
Coyle, no matter where you go. He’s down on
all you Mount Airy folks, and Rube Royall
heard him say that he was intending to tie you
to a tree and larrup you.”
“Does Matt carry an insurance on his life?”
inquired Roy. “If not, he’ll think twice before
he tries that.”
“Who is Rube Royall?” asked Arthur.
“He is acting as watchman at the State
hatchery, but he is really in Hanson’s employ,”
replied Mr. Swan. “Of course Rube
keeps poachers away from the outlet of nights,
but he was hired to watch Matt Coyle. He’s
too lazy to be a guide, Rube is; but he’s
honest, and hates Matt as bad as I do.”
“Why does Mr. Hanson want to have Matt
watched?” asked Joe.
“You remember about the Winchester rifle
and Lefever hammerless that were stolen a
while back, don’t you?” asked the guide.
“Well, the men who own them guns are
worth anywhere from twenty-five to fifty dollars
a day to the hotel they put up at, because
they always bring a big crowd with them.
.bn 162.png
.pn +1
They went home madder’n a couple of wet
hens, saying that they would never come to
this lake again till their guns had been found
and Matt put in jail. We could have arrested
Matt long ago, for he’s been living with Rube
ever since we burned him out; but if we’d
done it we should have lost the guns, for
Matt would stay in jail till he died there before
he would tell where the guns were hidden.
He’s just that obstinate. However, Rube don’t
need to watch him any more. Hanson’s got
the guns, and who do you think brought them
to him. It was Tom Bigden and his cousins.”
Although I was closely packed in my case I
caught every word of the conversation I have
recorded, and I assure you I was surprised to
hear this. Had Tom complied with Matt’s
demands and paid him fifty dollars for the
guns? Why didn’t Joe ask the guide to go
into details? Probably he didn’t think it
worth while, for all he said was—
“I wish those fellows had stayed at home.”
“They wouldn’t look at the reward, but told
Hanson that it was to be give to me and Morris,”
continued the guide. “Morris has got
.bn 163.png
.pn +1
his share, but I ain’t seen mine, for this is the
first time I have been here since the guns were
recovered. Now all we’ve got to do is to arrest
Matt and hunt up Jake. That boy’s got six
thousand dollars hidden somewhere in the
woods.”
“Why, hasn’t that money been found yet?”
exclaimed Roy.
“Not yet, and somehow we don’t make out
to get on Jake’s trail. He hasn’t been to
Rube’s house since the day we found your
canvas canoe hidden under that pile of brush.
He’s hiding in the woods, living on what he
can shoot and steal. I tell you the outlook is
mighty dark for us guides. There’s more than
two hundred guests gone away since the Irvington
bank was robbed, and half of us are idle.
Of course our pay goes on, but no honest man
wants to take money that he doesn’t earn.”
“Well, I must say that things have come to a
pretty pass when a few vagabonds can shut up
two hotels and throw fifty men like Mr. Swan
out of employment,” said Joe, as the guide
went down the beach toward the place where he
had left his canoe. “Now that the guns have
.bn 164.png
.pn +1
been recovered, Matt Coyle ought to be arrested
without an hour’s delay. I hope he and Jake
will be looking through iron bars when we
return.”
Joe would have put his wish into stronger
language than that if he had known what was
to happen to him before he saw Indian Lake
again.
.bn 165.png
.pn +1
.sp 4
.h2
CHAPTER VIII. | JOE WAYRING IN TROUBLE.
.sp 2
Mr. Swan, who had come to Indian Lake
to purchase some supplies for his
family, took a couple of baskets from his canoe
and walked back to the place where Joe
Wayring and his friends were standing.
“There’s one thing I ’most forgot to tell
you,” said he, as he came up. “Them three
cronies of yours, Tom Bigden and his cousins,
are spending their vacation in visiting with
Matt Coyle and his family.”
“Great Scott!” exclaimed Roy and Arthur,
in concert.
“Leastwise we think they are,” continued the
guide, “for they have more to do with Matt than
they do with any body else. The boys have
often seen them together, and they seem to be
as thick as so many thieves.”
“That’s what we get by sending them word
that if they wanted their fishing-rods they
.bn 166.png
.pn +1
could come and get them,” said Joe, after a
little pause. “If we had redeemed their
property at the time we redeemed ours, Tom
and his cousins wouldn’t have come here.”
“Well, the woods are big enough for all of
you, ain’t they?” said the guide. “You
needn’t have any thing to do with ’em if you
don’t want to.”
“We are not sure of that,” answered Roy.
“We shall not trouble them, but that’s no
sign that they will keep away and let us alone.”
“Why are they having so much to do with
Matt Coyle?” said Arthur. “That looks
suspicious.”
“It does indeed,” said Joe, seriously. “I
am afraid it means business for us.”
“I don’t see why it should,” replied Mr.
Swan. “You stay on this side the lake and
let them stay on the other, and you needn’t
come together at all. They ain’t going to tramp
twelve miles through the woods to that spring-hole
just for the sake of getting into a fuss
with you.”
“Don’t they know that Matt and his boys
are in danger of arrest?” asked Arthur.
.bn 167.png
.pn +1
“Course they know it. They couldn’t help
it, seeing that they come here every few days
after supplies and mail,” said the guide. “The
guides who saw them talking together didn’t
know what to make of it, and I don’t either.”
“There’s something between Tom and Matt,
and you may depend upon it,” said Joe. “It
has leaked out in Mount Airy that Tom tried
to put Matt up to lots of mischief before he
went away. He told the squatter that it
would be a good plan for him to burn my
father’s house, and turn our sailboats adrift so
that they would go into the rapids and be
smashed to pieces.”
“Well, he’s a bright feller!” exclaimed the
guide. “Don’t he know that he will get himself
into trouble by that sort of work? There
they come now.”
The boys turned about and saw three canoes
coming toward the landing. The crews who
were handling the paddles must have been surprised
to see Joe and his chums there, for as
soon as they recognized them they stopped and
held a short consultation.
Now, although the two opposing factions to
.bn 168.png
.pn +1
which Tom and Joe belonged felt very bitter
toward each other, they had never come to
open warfare. They played ball together,
always spoke when they met, and tried to be
civil; but there was scarcely a boy on either
side who would not have been glad to see Tom
Bigden neatly thrashed. Prime, Noble, Scott,
and the rest of the fellows who made their
head-quarters at the Mount Airy drug store
disliked him because he had tried to set himself
up for a leader among them; and Joe and
his friends had no friendship for him because
they knew how persistently Tom, aided by
his cousins, had tried to injure them ever
since he came to the village to live.
“If Tom could point to a single mean thing
we ever did to him, I shouldn’t be so much
surprised at his hostility,” Joe often said.
“But for him to attempt to ride over us rough
shod just because he is jealous of us—that’s
something we won’t put up with. If he had
the least spark of manliness in him, he would
quit his under-handed work, come out open
and above-board, and settle the matter with a
fair stand-up fight. But he is too big a coward
.bn 169.png
.pn +1
to do that, so he tries to sick Matt Coyle onto
us.”
Having brought their consultation to a close,
Tom and his cousins dipped their paddles in
the water again and drew up alongside the
skiff. If you had been there you would have
thought, from the cordial manner in which they
greeted Joe and his companions, that they
were the best friends in the world.
“Much obliged to you for telegraphing to
us about our rods,” said Tom. “We’ve got
’em now, and it will be a cold day when Matt
Coyle gets his hands on them again.”
“I shouldn’t think you would like to
associate with that man as freely as you do,”
said Roy, who could not forget that Tom had
tried his best to make one of their canoe meets
a failure. “He will spring something on you
sure, and I wouldn’t have any thing to do with
him.”
Tom Bigden’s amazing assurance was not
proof against an assault like this. He turned
all sorts of colors, but managed at last to say,
in reply—
“You must think I am hard up for associates.
.bn 170.png
.pn +1
My interviews with Coyle have been purely
accidental. I couldn’t help speaking to him
when he spoke to me. Where are you fellows
going?”
“We intend to hunt up some trout-fishing
before we go home,” answered Arthur.
“Then you’ll have to go back to some of the
spring-holes,” said Loren. “I’ll bet there isn’t
a legal trout in any of the waters about here.
They’ve been fished to death.”
Arthur had nothing more to say, for it was
no part of his plan to tell Tom just where he
and his companions were going. The three
boys loitered about for a minute or two, trying
to think of something else to talk about, and
then they said good-by and walked toward the
Sportsman’s Home.
“I don’t see what there is betwixt you
boys,” said Mr. Swan, as soon as Tom was out
of hearing. “Those fellows seem friendly
enough.”
“Yes; but we know that they are not to be
trusted,” replied Joe. “Ralph and Loren are
not so very bad, but Tom will do us a mean
turn the first good chance he gets.”
.bn 171.png
.pn +1
“He didn’t tell the truth when he said that
he had met Matt Coyle only by accident,” added
the guide. “Some of the boys told me that one
day last week he waited for Matt Coyle about
two miles this side of the hatchery for more
than an hour. That looked as though he had
made an appointment.”
“I wish I had thought to speak to Tom
about those guns,” observed Roy. “Do you
know how he came to get hold of them, Mr.
Swan? He must have told some sort of a story
when he turned them over to the landlord of
the Sportsman’s Home.”
“I guess you don’t believe he come by ’em
in a legitimate way,” laughed Mr. Swan.
“Well, mebbe he didn’t; I don’t know. He
said he found ’em while he and his cousins
were roaming about in the woods, hunting
squirrels. The place to hunt for them is
around cornfields, and not in thick woods.”
Having at last found their letters, Joe and
his chums slung their camp-baskets over their
shoulders, and started for the hotel, talking
with the guide as they went, and listening
attentively to his instructions regarding the
.bn 172.png
.pn +1
route they would have to follow in order to reach
the spring-hole. They engaged him to look out
for their skiff while they were gone, after which
they hunted up the storekeeper, from whom they
purchased supplies enough to last them a week.
“Going up to No-Man’s Pond, be you?”
said Morris, the guide who had patched up the
hole that Matt Coyle’s scow knocked in the
skiff on the night the “battle in the dark”
took place. “Well, you’ll catch plenty of
fish, but you will have a hard time getting
there. You see, some lazy lout of a guide
went to work and filled the carry full of trees
and bushes, for fear that he might be called
upon to show a guest over there. You will
have to pick your way through the thickest
woods you ever saw; so you want to go as
light as possible.”
“We shall take nothing but my canvas
canoe, these three camp-baskets, and our rods
and guns,” replied Joe. “We have a good
compass—”
“Well, whatever you do, don’t quarrel with
it,” said Morris. “If you get turned around
and see the sun go down in the north, when he
.bn 173.png
.pn +1
ought to set in the west, don’t get frightened
and run yourself to death, the way Billy Sawyer
done two years ago. Billy had been guide
for this country, man and boy, for more than
twenty years. The last time I saw him, he was
just starting out for the swamp about three
miles the other side of No-Man’s Pond, intending
to spend a month or so in trapping;
but we don’t think he ever saw the swamp or
the pond, either. First he lost his bearings,
then he lost his head, then he went tearing
through the woods, till he dropped and died
of exhaustion within half a mile of the
hotel.”
“And he was an old guide, you say?” exclaimed
Roy.
“Sartin. Guides ain’t no more infallible
than other folks. I have been lost myself;
but my employer didn’t know it, I bet you. I
kept my head about me, and worked my way
out all right. Well, good-by. You can eat
supper on the shore of that pond if you hold
the direct course; but if you lose it don’t
grumble at the compass.”
The boys knew just how hard it was for a
.bn 174.png
.pn +1
bewildered person to place implicit faith in the
needle, for they had been lost scores of times
in the woods in the immediate vicinity of
Mount Airy; but they did not get lost this
time. Joe Wayring went in advance, carrying
me in one hand and the little brass box in the
other, and brought his companions to No-Man’s
Pond, as the spring-hole was called, in
ample time to catch and cook a supper of
trout and make all the necessary preparations
for the night. Twice while we were on the
way we came in sight of the portage that led
from Indian Lake to the spring-hole, but we
could not see any signs of a path. It was completely
concealed by the huge trees that that
lazy guide had cut across it.
“I wonder if this is the place we’re looking
for,” said Joe, depositing me at the roots of a
spreading balsam and taking the camp basket
from his back. “It must be. Here are the
mountains on three sides of us and the hills
on the other, and over there is the golden bathing
beach that Mr. Swan told us of. Hi yi!
Did you see that?” he added, as a monster
trout showed himself above the water within
.bn 175.png
.pn +1
easy casting distance of the edge of the lily-pads.
“I should say so,” replied Arthur. “I
don’t care whether this is No-Man’s Pond or
not; there are big trout in it, and this is a
splendid place to build a shanty. Now let’s
get to work. Who will put the canvas canoe
together and catch supper for us? who will
cut the wood and pick browse for the beds?
and who will throw up a roof of some sort for
us to sleep under to-night? Most any thing
will do, as there are no signs of rain. To-morrow
we will pitch in, all hands, and put up a
good house.
“I’ll pick the browse,” said Roy, who was
lying prone upon the leaves fanning himself
with his hat. “I’m just tired enough to do
such lazy work. I’ll tell you what’s a fact, fellows:
If I were Mr. Hanson, and could find
out what guide it was who choked up that
portage, I’d never give him another day’s employment
as long as he and I lived. I am
tired to death and roasted besides.”
The others said they were too, but they did
not waste time in grumbling over it. They set to
.bn 176.png
.pn +1
work at once, Arthur clearing the leaves from
the ground on which he intended to erect the
lean-to, while Joe took me from my case and
made me ready for business. After that he put
Fly-rod together, fastened a couple of flies to
his leader, and shoved through the lily-pads to
catch that big trout, or others like him, for
supper. By that time Roy Sheldon had mustered
up energy enough to take his double-bladed
ax from his basket and go in search of
firewood. They worked to such good purpose,
one and all, that, by the time the sun
went down and darkness settled over the
spring-hole, they were ready for the night.
The browse lay a foot deep all over the floor
of the lean-to; the beds were made up side by
side, with a pillow (a little bag of unbleached
muslin, left open at both ends and stuffed
with browse) at the head of each; the fire had
burned down to a glowing bed of coals, over
which the trout and coffee-pot were simmering
and sputtering; and the whole was lighted up
by the Ferguson jack-lamp which hung suspended
from a clipped bough close at hand. A
tramp of twelve miles on an August day,
.bn 177.png
.pn +1
through a wilderness so dense that not the
faintest breath of air can reach you is no joke;
and it was little wonder that the boys were too
tired to talk. They ate their trout and johnny-cake
and sipped their weak coffee in silence,
and then crawled to their beds under the lean-to
without thinking to wash the dishes;
although that was a disagreeable duty they
seldom neglected. They slept soundly, too, in
blissful ignorance of the fact that there was
another camp within less than three miles of
the spring-hole, and that the owners of that
camp were looking for them.
Nine hours’ sleep has a wonderfully rejuvenating
effect upon a healthy boy; and
when our three friends left their blankets at
five o’clock the next morning, and started on
a keen run toward the “golden bathing beach”
before spoken of, they were their own jolly,
uneasy selves again. A hasty dip in the water,
which was so cold that they could not long
remain in it, two or three hotly contested
races along the beach to get up a reaction, followed
by a vigorous rubbing with coarse towels,
put them in the right trim for more trout
.bn 178.png
.pn +1
and johnny-cake; and the trout and johnny-cake
put them in the humor for the work that
must be done if their sojourn at the spring-hole
was to be a pleasant one. The Indian
Lake wilderness was noted for its sudden and
violent storms, and when they came the boys
meant to be ready for them. They did not forget
to wash the dishes this time, and then Arthur
and Joe went to work to build the shanty,
while Roy busied himself in collecting a supply
of fuel and building a range.
If you have never passed a vacation in the
woods, you probably do not know that a camp
fire and a camp range are two different things.
The first is made directly in front of the open
part of the shanty, and is intended for warmth
and comfort, and for light, also, when you have
no lantern or jack-lamp. The range is built
off on one side, a little out of the way, and is
made by placing two green logs, five or six
feet long, and eight inches in diameter, side by
side on the ground, about a foot apart at one
end, and nearly touching at the other. The
open end of the range is placed to windward—that
is in the direction from which the wind
.bn 179.png
.pn +1
blows—to create a draft, and the upper sides
of the logs are hewn off square with an ax, so
that the pots, pans, and kettles will stay
where they are put, and not slip off into the
fire. You build a hard-wood fire between
these logs, and when it has stopped blazing
and burned a thick bed of coals you are ready
to begin your cooking. To facilitate the handling
of hot dishes on the range, Joe Wayring
had a pair of light blacksmith’s tongs, with
the jaws curved instead of straight. This was
the handiest little tool I ever saw. With its
aid Joe could pour out coffee, dish up soup,
and remove the frying-pan from the range;
and, as the tongs were always cold, no one
ever saw him dancing about the fire with
burned fingers.
The boys worked until three o’clock without
even stopping for lunch, and then Roy got
into the canvas canoe and pushed out to catch
trout enough for supper, while Arthur cut
down evergreens to furnish fresh browse for the
beds. It was about this time that I introduced
them to you in the first chapter. Joe Wayring
had just put the finishing touches upon the
.bn 180.png
.pn +1
shanty (I didn’t wonder that he was satisfied
with it, for Mr. Swan himself could not have
put up a neater little house) and started the
conversation with which I commenced my
story. He gave it as his opinion that their
camp was well out of Tom Bigden’s reach, and
that Matt Coyle and his boys were much
too indolent to walk twelve miles through
a thick wood just to get into a fight with
them; and at the very moment he said
it some of those whose names he had
mentioned were trying their best to find
him.
Having disposed of their late dinner and
cleaned up the camp, the boys were at liberty
to lie around under the trees and rest. This, for
a wonder, Joe Wayring was quite willing to do;
but Roy and Arthur suddenly took it into their
heads that they would like to explore the
spring-hole and see how big it was and what it
looked like.
“Well, go on,” said Joe, “and I will stay
here and keep up the fire and rest. Two are
enough to ride in that canoe. Take your rods
and catch some trout for breakfast. You
.bn 181.png
.pn +1
ought to have fine sport, for they are jumping
up in every direction.”
Roy and Arthur thought it best to act upon
this suggestion, and from force of habit they
also put their guns into the canoe before shoving
out into the spring-hole. That was one of
the luckiest things those two boys ever did.
By the time they had made two hundred
yards from shore, the voyagers discovered that
No-Man’s Pond was not a circular basin, as it
appeared to be when viewed from the beach in
front of their camp. Its shape was very irregular.
Numerous long points jutted into the
water from both sides, and behind these points
were secluded bays in which numberless flocks
of wood duck lived unmolested by any enemy
save the bald eagles that now and then swooped
down and carried off one of their number for
dinner.
The boys paddled up on one side of the
spring-hole and down the other, going entirely
around it and exploring all the little bays and
inlets in their course, seeing nothing in the
shape of game except the ducks, which quickly
sought concealment under the broad leaves of
.bn 182.png
.pn +1
the lily-pads, and finally they dropped anchor
in the mouth of a little brook that emptied into
the pond, and jointed their rods. It did not
take them more than twenty minutes to catch
their next morning’s breakfast. In fact, the
trout were so eager to take their flies, sometimes
jumping clear out of the water to meet
them, that the sport was robbed of all excitement.
“I would as soon fish in an aquarium,” said
Roy, as he pulled his rod apart and shoved it
into its case. “I like to angle for trout, but
this suits me too well. What would some of
Mr. Hanson’s guests, who haven’t caught a
legal fish this season, give to be here with us?
Let’s go to camp and see what friend Joe is
doing.”
For some reason or other the boys did not
sing and shout, as they usually did on occasions
like this. Arthur lay at full length in
the bow, his chin resting on his arms, which
were crossed over the gunwales, and Roy plied
the paddle with so much skill that it scarcely
made a ripple in the water. As we came noiselessly
around the point that obstructed our
.bn 183.png
.pn +1
view of the upper end of the spring-hole,
Arthur uttered an ejaculation of astonishment
and alarm, raised himself to a sitting posture
with so much haste that he came within a hair’s
breadth of capsizing me, and reached for his
gun, while Roy sat with open mouth and staring
eyes, holding his paddle suspended in the
air, and looking in the direction of the camp.
I looked too, and if I had possessed a heart
the scene that met my gaze would have set it to
beating like a trip-hammer.
Joe Wayring was no longer lying at his ease
under the shade of the evergreens. He was
standing with his face to a tree, which he
seemed to be clasping with his white, sinewy
arms; his back was bared, and he was looking
over his shoulder at Matt Coyle, who stood
behind and a little to one side of him, rolling
up his sleeves. Near by stood Sam, and Jake,
each holding a heavy switch in his hand.
In an instant I comprehended the situation—or
thought I did. I had heard Matt declare, in
savage tones, that some day he and his boys
would tie Joe Wayring to a tree and larrup
him till he’d wish that he and his crowd had
.bn 184.png
.pn +1
minded their own business; and now Matt was
about to carry his threat into execution. He
meant to do his work well, when he got at it;
for, in addition to the switches that Jake and
Sam held in their hands, I saw several others
lying on the ground beside them. I had never
dreamed that the enmity Matt cherished
toward my master was so intense and bitter
that it would lead him to go twelve miles out
of his way to wreak vengeance upon him, and
it was a mystery to me how he ever found out
that Joe and his two chums were camping in
this particular spot. I did not believe that
Matt had come there by accident, and he
hadn’t, either, as I afterward learned. He
and his boys were on Joe’s trail within three
hours after he left Indian Lake, and they had
been looking for him ever since, being urged
on by something besides a desire for revenge,
as I gained from the very first words I heard
the squatter utter.
When we rounded the point we were within
less than thirty yards of our camp, and in
plain sight of it; but its occupants were so
deeply interested in their own affairs that they
.bn 185.png
.pn +1
did not see us. I felt a thrill of indignation run
all through me when I caught a glimpse of my
master’s pale face, and was proud of him
when I saw that there were no signs of cringing
in him. Matt bared his brawny arm clear
to the shoulder, caught up a switch, gave it a
flourish or two to make sure that it would
stand the work to which he intended to put it,
and then said in a loud voice, as if he were
addressing some one on the other side of the
spring-hole:
“Now, then, where is it? You see that we
are in dead ’arnest, I reckon, don’t you?
What have you done with it?”
“I tell you I don’t know any thing about
it,” said Joe’s clear, ringing voice in reply.
“I never saw it.”
For some reason or other these words seemed
to set Jake Coyle beside himself. He yelled
like a wild Indian, leaped from the ground,
and made his heavy switch whistle as it cut
the air in close proximity to the prisoner’s
unprotected back. As soon as he could speak
plainly he shouted—
“You have seed it too, an’ you do know
.bn 186.png
.pn +1
somethin’ about it. Whoop! Put it onto
him, pap, or else stand away from there an’
let me get at him. Don’t you mind how he
slapped me in the face with that paddle of
your’n? An’ now he’s gone an’ stole—”
“Don’t be in a hurry, Jakey,” interrupted
Matt. “Your turn’ll come after I get through
with him. I’ll let you at him directly. Look
here,” he went on, once more addressing himself
to Joe. “You won’t get no help from
your friends, an’ you needn’t look for it.
When we was comin’ through the woods, we
seen ’em puttin’ for Injun Lake tight as they
could go. Didn’t we, Jakey? Now if you
will ax our parding for your meanness to us,
an’ tell us where it is, we’ll let you off easy.
What do you say?”
“I say I won’t do it,” answered Joe, in undaunted
tones. “I shan’t ask your pardon,
and you can’t make me. I haven’t done any
thing to you.”
“You ain’t?” roared Matt, drawing back
the switch as if he were about to let it fall on
Joe’s back. “Don’t you call drivin’ honest
folks outen Mount Airy ’cause they ain’t got
.bn 187.png
.pn +1
no good clothes to w’ar, an’ keepin’ ’em from
earnin’ a livin’ that they’ve got jest as good a
right to as you rich ones have—don’t you call
that doin’ somethin’?”
“And furthermore,” continued Joe, “I
tell you, for the last time, that I don’t know
any thing about that money. I never saw
it.”
“Whoop!” shouted Jake, going off into
another war-dance. “You have seed it, an’
you know all about it. You had them two
grip-sacks into your baskets, you an’ your
friends did, when you left Injun Lake to come
up yer. Tom Bigden said so.”
“Whoop!” yelled Matt, in his turn. “Now
you’ve done it, you fule! Didn’t that Bigden
boy say plain enough that he didn’t want you
to speak his name at all? See if that won’t
put some gumption into your thick head; an’
that, an’ that! I’ll learn you to find six thousand
dollars, an’ go an’ hide it from your pap,
an’ then let fellers like Joe Wayring steal it
from you, you ongrateful scamp.”
.il fn=p188.jpg w=500px ew=90%
.ca Arthur Hastings’ fortunate arrival.
Jake was generally on the lookout for sudden
bursts of fury on the part of his sire, but
.bn 188.png
.bn 189.png
.pn +1
this time he was taken by surprise. Before
he could dodge or stir an inch from his tracks,
he received a most unmerciful beating, one
that gave me a faint idea of what was in store
for Joe Wayring. When he turned to run,
the face he presented to our view was bleeding
in half a dozen places.
“There, now,” exclaimed Matt, who was almost
frantic. “Go an’ hide some more money
from your pap, an’ blab when you was told to
hold your jaw, won’t you? Now that I have
got my hand in, I reckon I might as well finish
with you,” he continued, turning back and
taking his stand behind the prisoner. “Once
more I ax you: Will you tell me where you
have hid that money?”
“I have nothing more to say,” replied Joe,
in an unfaltering voice.
The answer added fuel to the fire of Matt’s
rage. He moistened his hand and seized the
switch with a firmer hold, while Joe turned his
face to the tree and nerved himself to receive
the expected blow. That was more than Arthur
Hasting could endure; but it brought his
scattered wits back to him. In an instant
.bn 190.png
.pn +1
his double barrel was at his shoulder, and
his flashing eye was looking along the
rib.
“Hold on there!” he shouted. “If you
touch that boy I will put more holes
through you than you ever saw in a skimmer.
Throw down that gad and stand where you
are.”
The effect of these words was magical. Jake
Coyle, whose doleful howls of anguish had
awakened a thousand echoes among the surrounding
hills, suddenly ceased his lamentations;
the white face of Joe Wayring turned
toward us lighted up with hope; and Matt and
Sam looked at Arthur and his threatening gun
with eyes that seemed to have grown to the
size of saucers. For a second or two no one
moved or spoke; then one of the three marauders
gave a perfect imitation of the cry of
alarm the mother grouse utters when her
brood is menaced with danger, whereupon
Matt and his boys disappeared in the most
bewildering way. They were seen to drop
where they stood, and that was the last of them.
Although Arthur rose to his feet as quickly as
.bn 191.png
.pn +1
he could and Roy plied the paddle with all
his strength, they did not catch another glimpse
of the squatter, nor was there the slightest
rustling in the bushes to tell which way he
and his allies had gone.
.bn 192.png
.pn +1
.sp 4
.h2
CHAPTER IX. | TOM VISITS THE HATCHERY.
.sp 2
Let us now return to Tom Bigden, whom
we last saw paddling disconsolately
toward the camp where he had left his
cousins, Ralph and Loren Farnsworth, a short
half hour before. Tom had expected to spend
a pleasant forenoon at the hatchery, taking
lessons in fish-culture; but his interview with
Matt Coyle had knocked that in the head.
The squatter’s astounding proposition, taken
in connection with the dreadful things he had
threatened to do in case his victim failed to
comply with his demands, had opened Tom’s
eyes to the disagreeable fact that he had over-reached
himself by yielding to his insane desire
to take vengeance on Joe Waring. He knew
he could not enjoy himself at the hatchery with
the fear of exposure and disgrace hanging over
him, so he started for camp at his best paddling
.bn 193.png
.pn +1
pace to ask Ralph and Loren what he
should do about it.
“When a fellow like Matt Coyle can lay
commands upon me and threaten me with punishment
if I do not obey them—by gracious!
Is it possible for me to get any lower down in
the world? I wish I had never heard of that
Joe Wayring. Every thing seems to go
smoothly with him without an effort on his
part, but, no matter how hard I try, every
thing goes wrong with me. Did any body ever
hear of such luck?”
Tom was angry now as well as frightened,
and, what seemed strange to me when I heard
of it, he blamed Joe Wayring, and not himself,
for the troubles he had got into. He must
have brought a very black face into camp with
him, for when he ran the bow of his canoe
upon the beach in front of the grove where
Loren and Ralph were idling away the time in
their hammocks the former called out:
“Hallo! who are you mad at now?”
“Everybody,” snarled Tom. “Say, Ralph,
you remember that after our interview with
the squatter, on the day the constable drove
.bn 194.png
.pn +1
him out of Mount Airy, you declared that you
wouldn’t have had it happen for any thing,
don’t you?”
“I remember it perfectly,” replied Ralph.
“I was afraid that trouble of some sort would
grow out of it, and judging from the looks of
your face my fears have been realized. What’s
up?”
“That was the first interview I held with
Matt Coyle, but I am sorry to say it wasn’t
the last,” continued Tom.
“Have you seen him to-day?” exclaimed
Loren.
“I have, and I tell you he’s got me in a box.
But hold on a minute. I want to let you into
a secret. It was I who put it into his head to
steal Joe Wayring’s canvas canoe.”
“There,” said Ralph, shaking his finger at
his brother. “What did I tell you?”
“That’s no secret at all,” answered Loren.
“We were satisfied from the first that you
knew all about it. You looked very surprised
and innocent, and I know you were mad when
you discovered that Matt had robbed you as
well as the rest of us; but you didn’t play
.bn 195.png
.pn +1
your part well enough to ward off all suspicion.”
These words added to Tom’s fears. “Do
you think Joe suspected me?” he inquired.
“If he did, he made no sign,” replied Loren.
“Perhaps one reason why Ralph and I
suspected you was because we could read
you better than Joe could. Well, what
of it?”
“Well,” said Tom, desperately, “Matt Coyle
tells me that, as an accessory before the fact,
I am liable to punishment at the hands of the
law. That is what he is working on. You
have heard that he stole a couple of valuable
guns from an unguarded camp a few weeks
ago. There has been a reward of one hundred
dollars offered for the recovery of those guns,
and, as Matt dare not take them up to the
Sportsman’s Home himself, he demands that I
shall act as his agent, and share the reward
with him.”
“Demands?” repeated Loren.
“But before he will give the guns into my
possession, I must pay him fifty dollars, cash
in hand,” added Tom. “Yes, sir; he demands
.bn 196.png
.pn +1
that I shall do this under penalty of being denounced
to the officers of the law.”
“Whew!” whistled Ralph. “Here is a
go!”
“That Matt Coyle has more cheek than you
showed on the day of the canoe meet, when
you purposely capsized Prank Noble and
claimed foul on it,” said Loren. “Are you
going to give him the money?”
“He’ll have to; he can’t get out of it. But
here’s where the trouble is going to come in,”
said Ralph, who was by no means thick-headed
if he did hate books. “The minute
Tom gives him fifty dollars for those guns,
that minute he puts himself completely in the
villain’s power.”
“That was the way I looked at it,” said
Tom. “But what can I do? What would you
do if you were in my place?”
“The sight of those fifty dollars will show
that lazy Matt how he can make a very nice
income without doing a stroke of work,” continued
Ralph. “He’ll go on stealing, and as
fast as he accumulates property he will make
Tom buy it of him, no matter whether there is
.bn 197.png
.pn +1
a reward offered for it or not. There is only
one thing you can do. You had better start
for home bright and early to-morrow morning,
get fifty dollars of your father, if he will give
it to you, hand it over to Matt as soon as you
can find him, and then shake the dust of the
Indian Lake country from your feet forever,
or at least until that squatter has been placed
behind prison bars.”
“But Matt says I need not hope to escape
him by going home,” said Tom. “He
reminded me that a constable can catch
me in Mount Airy as easily as he can
here.”
“That’s so,” assented Ralph, “but what
other show have you? When you give him
the money you will put him in good humor,
and I don’t think he will denounce you until
he has had some sort of a row with you. You
must keep him good-natured.”
“And the only way I can do that is by keeping
his pockets full,” said Tom, with a groan.
“I won’t do it. I’ll give him the fifty dollars,
because I can’t help myself; and when I part
from him he will never see me again. My
.bn 198.png
.pn +1
supply of spending money is not as generous
as it might be, and Matt shall not see a dollar
of it.”
“Here’s another point,” said Loren, swinging
himself from his hammock. “Matt is
going to be arrested some day, and what assurance
have we that he won’t tell all he
knows?”
“We haven’t any,” said Tom, fiercely; and
then, to the surprise of both his cousins, he
broke out into the wildest kind of a tirade
against Joe Wayring and every body who was
a friend to him. Knowing that they could not
stop him, they let him go on and talk himself
out of breath.
“I’d like to see something happen to that
boy, for if it hadn’t been for him and his
chums I never would have been in this fix,”
said Tom, at last. “Because we wouldn’t
toady to them, they slammed the door of the
archery club in our faces, and went against
us in every way they knew how. Well, it is
a long lane that has no turning, and we may
come out at the top of the heap yet. Will
you fellows stand by me? I mean will you go
.bn 199.png
.pn +1
home with me, and come back when I get the
money?”
Ralph and Loren gave it as their opinion
that their cousin Tom ought to know better
than to ask such a question. Hadn’t they
always stood by him, through thick and thin,
and made common cause with him against
every one he did not like? Of course they
would stay with him until his trouble with
Matt Coyle was settled, and do all they could
to help him.
“I’m glad to hear it, for I should dreadfully
hate to be left to myself in an emergency like
this,” said Tom. “But we haven’t a single
hour to lose. Matt said he would give me ten
days to go to Mount Airy and return, and we
ought to start to-morrow. Which one of you
will go to the hotel with me after a supply of
grub?”
“Let Ralph go,” said Loren. “He’s treasurer.
I will stay here and look out for things
about the camp, and perhaps I shall be able
to think up some way for you to wriggle out
of Matt Coyle’s clutches.”
Ralph, weary of loafing about the camp and
.bn 200.png
.pn +1
glad of an opportunity to stretch his arms,
readily agreed to accompany his cousin to the
Sportsman’s Home and buy the provisions
they would need while on their way to Mount
Airy. The two set out at once, and when they
came back at dark they had a startling story
to tell the camp-keeper. The Irvington bank
had been robbed of six thousand dollars, and
the thieves had been traced to Indian Lake.
“I should think there were rascals enough
here already,” said Loren, after he had listened
to all the particulars.
“They keep coming in all the while,” replied
Ralph, “and the landlords don’t like it
very well. It’s hurting their business. The
sportsmen, especially those who have women
and children with them, are leaving as fast as
they can pack up. We’ll be off to-morrow,
and I hope we shall never come here for another
outing. Tom, are you sure you can take
us straight to the creek that leads from the
pond to the Indian river? You know we told
you that, in the absence of a guide, we should
depend on you to show us the way home.”
“Don’t be uneasy,” was Tom’s confident
.bn 201.png
.pn +1
answer. “I have a good many landmarks to
go by, and I’ll not take you an inch out of a
direct line.”
Of course there was but one thing talked
about around that camp fire between supper
time and the hour for retiring, and that was
the attempt on the part of Matt Coyle to make
a receiver of stolen property out of Tom Bigden.
The longer they dwelt upon it the darker
Tom’s prospects seemed to become. The fear
of what the squatter could do, if he made up
his mind to be ugly, effectually banished sleep
from their eyes for the greater part of the
night; and the consequence was that when
they arose from their beds of browse the next
morning they were too cross and snappish to
be civil to one another. During the time that
was consumed in cooking and eating breakfast,
packing the canoes, and getting under
way, they did not speak half a dozen words
aloud; but they all kept up a good deal of
thinking, and no doubt it was while Tom was
in a fit of abstraction that he lost his way. At
any rate, he left the lake at least two miles below
the point at which he ought to have left
.bn 202.png
.pn +1
it. He turned into the creek up which Matt
Coyle and his boys fled on the morning following
their encounter with Joe Wayring and his
chums, and Ralph and Loren blindly followed
his lead. Not until they made a landing,
about two o’clock in the afternoon, to eat their
lunch, did Tom begin to suspect that he was a
little out of his reckoning. If they had come
there a few hours sooner, they would have seen
Mr. Swan and his party; for, as luck would
have it, they had landed within a short distance
of Matt Coyle’s old camp.
“I am obliged to confess that I am any thing
but a trustworthy guide for this neck of the
woods,” said Tom, after he had looked in vain
for some of the landmarks of which he had
spoken the day before. “I don’t think I ever
saw this place until this moment.”
“Well, I am sure I have,” said Loren. “On
our way down we camped within sight of that
leaning tree over there. Didn’t we, Ralph?”
“I think so. I am quite sure I shot at an
eagle on that same leaning tree. You fellows
fix the lunch, and I will very soon find out
whether I am right or wrong,” said Ralph,
.bn 203.png
.pn +1
getting upon his feet and shoving a cartridge
into each barrel of his gun. “If this is the
place I think it is, I shall find a little clearing
back here about a hundred yards, grown up to
briers. Don’t you remember we picked a few
berries there on the way down?”
“I haven’t forgotten about the berries, but I
don’t think you will find that or any other
clearing in these thick woods,” answered
Tom. “But go ahead and look, and we
will have the lunch ready by the time you get
back.”
Ralph shouldered his gun and disappeared
among the evergreens. He was gone about ten
minutes, and then Tom and Loren heard him
calling to them in an excited voice.
“Oh, fellows! Oh, fellows!” shouted
Ralph. “Come here. Come as quick as you
know how.”
Tom and his cousin were in no hurry to obey
this peremptory summons. They did not know
what they might find back there in the bushes.
Their faces turned white, and the hands with
which they pushed the cartridges into their
guns trembled visibly.
.bn 204.png
.pn +1
“Are you coming?” cried Ralph, impatiently.
“What have you found?” Loren managed
to ask, in reply.
“Something that will make you open
your eyes,” was the answer. “But it
won’t hurt you. Why don’t you come
on?”
These reassuring words brought Tom and
Loren to their feet and took them into the
evergreens; but it was not without fear and
trembling that they slowly worked their way
toward the place from which Ralph’s voice
sounded, nor did they neglect to hold themselves
in readiness to take to their heels the
instant they saw any thing alarming. They
reached Ralph’s side at last, and were
astonished beyond measure to find him holding
a Victoria gun-case in one hand and an
elegant double-barrel hammerless in the other.
As they came up he raised the hand that held
the case, directing their attention to a finely
finished Winchester rifle that rested against a
log near by.
“What’s the meaning of this? Where did
.bn 205.png
.pn +1
you find them?” exclaimed Tom, as soon as
he had found his tongue.
Before speaking Ralph stepped to the end of
the log and pointed to the hollow in it. Then
he picked up a bush that appeared to have
been lately cut, and laid it across the opening.
“That’s the way it was when I came along
here a few minutes ago,” said he. “I stumbled
against something, and when I looked to see
what it was I found that I had kicked this
bush away and exposed the opening. As I
was searching for that blackberry-patch, and
nothing else, I was about to pass on, when
something glittering caught my eye. It was
the buckle on this gun-case. That’s my answer
to your second question, Tom. In reply to
your first, I say: It means that you need have
no further trouble with Matt Coyle, and you
needn’t ask your father for that money.”
“Do—do you think these are the stolen
guns?” stammered Tom.
“Of course they are,” said Loren, confidently.
“That one by the log is a Winchester,
and I see the name Lefever on this.
I tell you, old fellow, you are in luck.”
.bn 206.png
.pn +1
“For once in my life I believe I am,” said
Tom, taking the double-barrel from his
cousin’s hand and giving it a good looking
over. “Seen any signs of the berry-patch,
Ralph?”
“Never a sign.”
“And you won’t see any in this part of the
country, either,” answered Tom. “We missed
our way, and that was a very fortunate thing
for me. I’ve got the weather-gauge of Matt
Coyle now. Let’s eat our lunch and start
back for our old camp.”
So saying Tom shouldered the Lefever hammerless
and turned his face toward the creek,
Loren following with the Victoria case in his
hand, and Ralph bringing up the rear with
the Winchester. They had many a hearty
laugh at Matt Coyle’s expense, but when they
sat down to lunch they began to look at the
matter seriously.
“You’ve got the upper hand of him now,
and you want to keep it,” said Ralph. “I
don’t think it would be quite safe for you to
defy him.”
“By no means,” replied Tom. “I have no
.bn 207.png
.pn +1
intention of doing any thing of the sort. I
shall have an interview with him at the earliest
possible moment, and tell him when he produces
the guns I will give him his money. I
can’t be expected to fill my part of the contract
until he fills his; and that’s something
he can’t do, thanks to Ralph. Why, boys, I
feel as if I had got rid of an awful load.”
For the first time since he came to Mount
Airy to live Tom Bigden was perfectly happy.
According to his way of looking at it, he had
turned the tables on the squatter very neatly,
and any sensible boy would have said that the
best thing he could do was to keep clear of
that low fellow in future. But he did not do
it. Scarcely a week passed away before his
hatred for Joe Wayring led him into a worse
scrape than the one from which he had just
been extricated by his cousin’s lucky discovery.
I must not forget to say that while the boys
were lounging about on the bank of the creek,
eating their bacon and cracker, there was
something going on in the woods behind them.
Every thing they did while they were standing
.bn 208.png
.pn +1
beside that hollow log, examining the guns that
had been found in it, was seen, and every word
they uttered had been overheard by a young
ragamuffin who was concealed within less than
a stone’s throw of them. Ralph Farnsworth
had come upon him so suddenly that he did
not have time to run far. He shook both his
fists in the air and gnashed his teeth with rage
when he saw Tom and his cousins walk away
with the guns in their possession, and as soon
as they were out of sight he came from his
place of concealment and crept toward the log
on all-fours. But he did not stop there. He
simply glanced at the hollow as he passed and
presently disappeared in a thicket on the
opposite side. When he came into view again
he was closely hugging two small valises, one
under each arm. The angry scowl was gone
from his face, and he was grinning broadly
and going through a variety of uncouth antics,
expressive, no doubt, of great satisfaction and
delight. He stopped and listened, and the
sounds that came to his ears told him that
Tom Bigden and his companions were shoving
off in their canoes and heading down the creek
.bn 209.png
.pn +1
toward the lake. When their voices died
away in the distance he bent himself almost
double, and moved off with long, noiseless
strides.
The three canoeists reached their camp in the
grove long before dark, for the swift current
in the creek helped them along at the rate of
three miles an hour. Tom’s first care was to
make sure of the guns; and these he at once
proceeded to hide in the thick branches of an
evergreen, while his cousins cut wood, made
the fire, and cooked the supper. They had
brought very light hearts back with them, but
one of their number, at least, did not sleep any
the better for it. It was Tom, who grew uneasy
every time he thought of the coming interview
with the squatter, which he hoped to
bring about on the following day. How was it
going to end? That was the question Tom kept
asking himself, and when he saw the day
breaking, after an almost sleepless night, he
had not found a satisfactory answer to it.
“I suppose we ought to go to the Sportsman’s
Home at once and give those guns up,” said
Loren, as he raked the coals together and threw
.bn 210.png
.pn +1
on an armful of fresh fuel. “We’ll not touch
the reward, of course.”
“Certainly not,” replied Ralph. “But I
would freely give a hundred dollars, if I had
it, to see Matt Coyle shut up for a long term
of years.”
“But he will have a trial before he is shut
up, and there is no knowing what secrets he
may tell while that trial is in progress,” said
Loren.
“You don’t know how that thought worries
me,” said Tom. “It is on my mind continually.
I wish you fellows wouldn’t give up the
guns until I have seen Matt.”
“What good will it do to keep them?”
asked Loren.
“I don’t know that it will do any good; but
I should like to be with you when you hand
them over to Mr. Hanson. I can’t go up to
the Sportsman’s Home to-day, for I have a
most disagreeable piece of work to do first.
The sooner I get that off my hands, the sooner
I shall feel easy.”
Tom ate but little breakfast, for he seemed
to have lost all desire for food. He drank
.bn 211.png
.pn +1
a cup of coffee, and then arose to his feet
and said good-by, adding, as he pushed
his canoe from the beach and stepped into
it—
“I shall have something to tell you when I
come back. I don’t know whether it will be
good or bad, but when I see you again I shall
know more than I do now.”
“Where are you going?”
“Down to the hatchery. It was while I was
on my way there day before yesterday that I
met Matt. I have an idea that he hangs out
somewhere in that neighborhood.”
Tom passed a very pleasant hour with the
superintendent, who showed him every thing of
interest there was to be seen about the
hatchery, and took much pains to make all
the little details of the science clear to him,
even going back to the time of the Romans,
among whom, it is stated by several writers,
the art approached a remarkable degree of perfection;
but it is doubtful if Tom knew any
more about fishes when he went away than he
did when he came. He was thinking of Matt
Coyle, to whom the superintendent incidentally
.bn 212.png
.pn +1
referred daring the progress of the conversation.
“When we first came here, of course we
were empty-handed,” said he. “We set the
traps in the outlet to catch fish so that we
could get their eggs; but a few vagabonds of
the Coyle stamp made it their business to cut
our nets almost as fast as we could put them
in. When we threatened to have them arrested,
they replied that we had better let
them alone or they would set fire to the hatchery.
They said they would fish where they
pleased, and nobody should stop them; but
they have thought better of it, and don’t
bother us any now. Matt Coyle and his boys
are the worst of the lot. They steal every
thing they eat and wear, but so far they have
not interfered with us. When they do, we
shall have them arrested, Hanson or no Hanson.”
“What has he to do with it?” inquired
Tom. “Doesn’t he want them to be arrested?”
“Not just yet; not until he has recovered
two stolen guns Matt has in his possession,”
.bn 213.png
.pn +1
answered the superintendent. “That is a
matter of dollars and cents to both the hotels
at the lake, for if those guns are not restored
to their owners the landlords will be ruined.”
“Perhaps if he were shut up for a while he
would lose heart, and tell where the guns could
be found,” suggested Tom.
“Swan and the other guides who know him
think differently. That was my idea, and I
urged it upon the guides, for I wanted that
villain and all his tribe out of my way. But
Swan says Matt is a man who can’t be driven.
However, Rube has his eye on him, and perhaps
he will discover something one of these
days.”
“Who is Rube?” asked Tom.
“Our watchman. He used to be one of
Hanson’s guides; but he proved too lazy for
the business, so Hanson induced us to bring
him down here to watch the hatchery and act
as spy upon Matt’s movements at the same
time. When Swan and his friends destroyed
Matt’s camp Rube took him into his house.
He and his family are there now, and Rube is
trying the best he knows how to get into their
.bn 214.png
.pn +1
confidence so that they will tell him where
these guns are concealed. I ought, perhaps,
to say that three members of the family are at
Rube’s house now. Where the other is no one
seems to know. Yesterday morning the sheriff
made an attempt to arrest Jake, but the family
got warning in time, took to the woods, and
Jake hasn’t come back yet.”
“What had he been doing?” inquired Tom,
who was much more interested in this than he
was in the science of fish-culture.
“You heard about the Irvington bank robbery,
didn’t you? Well, every thing goes to
prove that the six thousand dollars the thieves
secured is now in Jake Coyle’s hands.”
This was the most astounding piece of news
that Tom Bigden had ever listened to. “How
did Jake get hold of it?” he asked.
“Well, the sheriff summoned a posse,
caught the robbers after a short chase, and
they told him that the boy they hired to ferry
them over the lake, and who was robbing a
cellar when they first spoke to him, capsized
them on purpose and spilled the money out
into the water. You see Jake caught a glimpse
.bn 215.png
.pn +1
of the money when one of the robbers opened
his valise to pay him the five dollars he demanded
for ferrying them over, and made up
his mind to have it for his own.”
“I had no idea Jake Coyle was smart enough
to do a thing like that,” said Tom, who could
scarcely credit his ears. “Do you believe the
story?”
“Why, the guides tell me that the whole
family are sharper than steel traps. Of course
I believe the story. On the way home the
sheriff ran upon a canvas canoe that Matt
stole from Joe Wayring up in Sherwin’s Pond,
and the robbers recognized it the minute it
was put together as the one in which they had
started to cross the lake. When the sheriff
heard this he knew at once that the ferryman
was Jake Coyle, and nobody else, for he is the
one who steals all the grub for the family.
When they came here to be set across the outlet
they surrounded Rube’s house with the intention
of arresting Jake, but he and the rest
had been warned, as I told you, and could not
be found. After that the sheriff took one of
the robbers up the lake to point out the snag
.bn 216.png
.pn +1
on which Jake capsized the canvas canoe, but
the money wasn’t there.”
“Have you any idea what had become
of it?”
“I haven’t the least doubt that Jake went
up there night before last, dived for the
valises and took them off in the woods and
hid them. That is what the sheriff thinks, and
it is the plan he is working on.”
“I am glad I went to the hatchery this
morning,” thought Tom, as he pulled slowly
toward camp after thanking the accommodating
official for the pains he had taken to
teach him something. “I have had a good
time, and I have heard one or two things that
may be of use to me.”
.bn 217.png
.pn +1
.sp 4
.h2
CHAPTER X. | MORE TROUBLE FOR TOM BIGDEN.
.sp 2
While on his way from his camp to the
hatchery Tom Bigden had kept as close
to the beach as the depth of the water would
permit, looking everywhere for Matt Coyle,
but without seeing any thing of him. Better
luck, however, awaited him on his return, for
when he came opposite to a lonely part of the
beach, near the spot on which their former
interview was held, he saw the squatter step
cautiously out the bushes and beckon to him.
No doubt the man was surprised at the readiness
with which Tom brought his canoe around
and headed it for the shore.
“Say,” exclaimed Matt, when Tom had come
within speaking distance. “I’m powerful
glad to see you, ’cause I want to let you know
that I can’t wait no ten days for them fifty
dollars. I must have it to onct.”
.bn 218.png
.pn +1
“What’s your hurry?” asked Tom. He
did not exhibit any signs of anger, although
the man was even more peremptory and
domineering than he had been before. Tom
knew that the squatter’s triumph would be of
short duration, and he could afford to let him
be as insolent as he pleased.
“I’m goin’ to buy some furnitur’ of Rube,
an’ he won’t let it go less’n he gets the cash in
his hands first,” answered Matt.
“What do you want of furniture while you
are living in Rube’s house? Why can’t you
use his?”
“How do you happen to know that I am
livin’ into Rube’s house?” demanded the
squatter, opening his eyes.
“Why, every body knows it,” replied Tom,
carelessly. “It is pretty well known, too,
that you narrowly escaped capture when the
sheriff’s posse surrounded that house the other
morning. Where are you living now, and what
has become of Jake?”
“Say,” replied Matt, speaking in the confidential
tone that had so exasperated Tom on
a former occasion. “I don’t mind telling you
.bn 219.png
.pn +1
all about it. Things is gettin’ too public
around Rube’s house to suit us, an’, besides,
we don’t think he’s the friend to us that he
pertends to be; so we’re goin’ to take to the
bresh, an’ there we’re goin’ to stay. I want
some chairs an’ bed fixin’s to furnish my
shanty, when I get it built. Rube’s got ’em,
but he wants the ready money for ’em. I seen
you when you was down there to the hatchery,
an’ that’s the reason I come up here to ketch
you.”
“All right,” said Tom. “How soon can
you produce those guns?”
“I can have ’em here to-morrer mornin’ by
sun-up.”
“That’s too early for me,” replied Tom.
“We have breakfast about six, and I can get
here by seven; I will be here.”
“Not to-morrer?” exclaimed Matt.
“Yes, to-morrow.”
“But you said you would have to go to
Mount Airy after the money.”
“I have seen my cousins since then, and I
find that it will not be necessary for me to go
home.”
.bn 220.png
.pn +1
“Have you got the money?” said Matt,
eagerly.
Tom winked first one eye and then the
other.
“There, now. I knowed you had it all the
time; but you kind of thought you could beat
me in some way or other, an’ that you could
get out of buyin’ them guns. But you know
better now, don’t you? I want to be friends
with you, but I tell you, pine-plank, that I
won’t stand no nonsense. I’ll tell on you sure,
if you—”
“Now, don’t switch off on that track, for if
you do I’ll not listen to another word,” said
Tom, angrily; and to show that he was in
earnest he pushed his canoe away from the
beach and turned the bow up the lake.
Then there was a short pause, during which
Matt stood with his hands on his hips and his
eyes fastened searchingly upon the boy’s face.
It was beginning to dawn upon him that Tom
was a trifle more independent than he had been.
“Say,” he growled at last. “What trick
are you up to?”
“Why, what makes you think I am up to
.bn 221.png
.pn +1
any trick?” asked Tom, innocently. “You
said you wanted me to buy those guns for
fifty dollars; and I say I will be ready to do
it to-morrow morning. Is there any trick
about that?”
“You’re goin’ to bring a constable with you,”
Matt almost shouted. The thought popped
into his head suddenly, and made him dance
with rage.
“I shall come alone,” was the quiet reply.
“There ain’t no one constable in the Injun
Lake country that can take me up,” Matt went
on, furiously. “But if you do bring one on
’em with you, I’ll tell him that you was knowin’
to my stealin’ of that canvas canoe.”
“What’s the use of lashing yourself into a
tempest for nothing?” said Tom, coolly.
“You can hide in the bushes, and if you see
any one with me you need not come out. I’ll
be here at seven o’clock, and when you put
those two guns into my canoe I will put fifty
dollars in greenbacks into your hand. Is that
the understanding?”
“Don’t you want me to hide ’em a piece
back in the bresh so’t you can say that you
.bn 222.png
.pn +1
found ’em?” inquired Matt, in rather more
civil tones.
“No; I want you to put them into my
canoe. I will find them there, won’t I? Is it
a bargain or not?”
“It’s a bargain. I’ll be here; an’ if you
ain’t—”
The squatter did not say what he would do
if Tom failed to appear at the appointed hour,
for the latter did not linger to listen to him.
He put his canoe in motion again and pulled
toward the point above, while Matt backed up
to a log and took his pipe from his pocket.
“Something’s wrong somewheres,” he told
himself, as he filled up for a smoke. “He
didn’t act that-a-way t’other day, but was as
humble as a hound purp that had jest been
licked. Now, what’s in the wind, do you
reckon? Has he been snoopin’ round in the
woods an’ found them six—whoop!”
The bare thought that perhaps Tom had
stumbled upon the valises, and intended paying
him for the stolen guns out of the money
that Matt regarded as his own, was enough to
drive the man frantic. He sprang to his feet,
.bn 223.png
.pn +1
jammed his pipe into his pocket, caught up his
rifle, which he had placed behind a convenient
tree, and dashed into the bushes.
“I wonder how Mr. Coyle feels by this time,”
chuckled Tom, as he rounded the point and
left the place of meeting out of sight. “My
face must be an awful tell-tale, for Matt knew
there was something up as soon as he looked
at me. I expect to have a time with him to-morrow.”
With this reflection Tom dismissed Matt
Coyle from his mind, and thought of Jake and
the extraordinary trick to which he had
resorted to gain possession of those valises and
their contents. He certainly did know more
when he arrived at camp than he did when he
went away in the morning, and he had so much
to tell that it was almost supper time before
the dinner was served. Another sleepless
night, a single cup of coffee in the morning,
and Tom was ready for what he fondly hoped
would be his last interview with Matt Coyle.
“I am afraid you are going into danger,”
said Ralph, anxiously. “I shall not draw an
easy breath until I see you coming back. Be
.bn 224.png
.pn +1
very careful, and don’t let him get the slightest
advantage of you.”
Although Tom was in no very enviable frame
of mind, he made reply to the effect that he
knew just what he was going to do, for he had
thought it all over while his cousins were
wrapped in slumber, and then he sat down in
his canoe and paddled away. His heart beat
a little faster than usual when he came within
sight of the place where he was to meet the
squatter. The latter was not to be seen; but
as Tom backed water with his paddle, and
brought his canoe to a stand-still a few feet
from shore, he came out of the bushes and
showed himself. Acting upon the hint Tom
had given him the day before, Matt kept concealed
long enough to make sure that the boy
had not brought an officer with him for company.
Tom was really amazed when he looked
at him. Instead of the angry, half-crazy man
he expected to meet, he saw before him (if
there were any faith to be put in appearances)
one of the jolliest, happiest mortals in existence.
His face was one broad smile, and he
rubbed his soiled and begrimed palms
.bn 225.png
.pn +1
together as if he already held between them
the greenbacks which he thought Tom carried
in his pocket.
“That’s all gammon. He has laid a trap for
me,” soliloquized the boy; and, alarmed by
the thought, he gave a quick, strong stroke
with the double paddle that sent the canoe ten
feet farther away from the beach. Matt saw
and understood, and for a brief moment a savage
scowl took the place of the smile he had
put on for the occasion. But it cleared away as
quickly as it came, and then Matt smiled again.
“Have you got it?” said he, in insinuating
tones. “Have you brung the money with
you?”
For an answer Tom winked his left eye.
“I’m powerful glad to hear it,” said Matt.
“Come ashore an’ we’ll soon settle this business.”
“Where are the guns?”
“Back in the woods a piece. I hid ’em in
the bresh, ’cause I thought that mebbe you
would rather take ’em out yourself, so’t you
could say you found ’em without tellin’ no lie
about it. See?”
.bn 226.png
.pn +1
“That isn’t according to the agreement we
made yesterday,” replied Tom. “I told you,
as plainly as I could speak it, that you must
put the guns into my canoe and I would find
them there.”
“Well, how be I goin’ to put ’em in your
canoe while you keep it twenty feet from
shore?” demanded Matt. “You come up
closter.”
“You go and get the guns. It will be time
enough for me to get in closer when I see that
you have got them.”
“An’ it will be time enough for me to get
the guns when I see that you have brung the
money with you,” retorted Matt, who was getting
so angry that he could with difficulty control
himself.
Tom laid his paddle across his knee and
took a purse from his pocket, all the while
keeping a sharp watch upon Matt Coyle, who
had moved down the beach, inch by inch,
until he was now standing in the edge of the
water. Taking from the purse a small roll of
bills, Tom held it up before his right eye and
winked at the squatter with the other.
.bn 227.png
.pn +1
“There’s money; now where are the guns?”
said he. “I thought you were in a great
hurry to have the business settled.”
“I don’t believe there’s any fifty dollars in
that there little wad of greenbacks,” replied
Matt. “Lemme see you count ’em out on
your knee.”
Instead of complying with this request, Tom
shut up the purse and put it into his pocket.
When Matt saw that, he could no longer restrain
himself. With a sound that was more
like a roar than a shout, he jumped into the
water, his arms extended and his fingers
spread out like the claws of some wild beast,
and made a long plunge in the hope of seizing
upon the gunwale of Tom’s canoe. But the
boy was on the alert. With one stroke of the
paddle he sent the canoe far out of reach, and
in a second more Matt was floundering in
water that was over his head. Knowing that
he could not overtake Tom by swimming, he
gave vent to his fury in a volley of oaths, and
went back to the beach; whereupon Tom also
returned, and took up his old position.
“It seems that you are the one that is up to
.bn 228.png
.pn +1
tricks,” said he, smiling in spite of himself at
the ludicrous figure Matt Coyle presented in
his dripping garments. “Now, when you get
ready, I should like to have you tell me what
you meant by trying to get hold of my
canoe?”
“Why didn’t you count out the money on
your knee, like I told you, so’t I could be sure
you had brung the fifty dollars?” roared
Matt, shaking both his clenched hands at Tom.
“Didn’t I take your word for it when you
told me that you had the guns? Very well;
you will have to take mine when I say that I
am ready to carry out my part of the agreement
when you carry out yours. Show me
the guns; that’s all I ask of you. Look here;
do you know where those guns are at this
moment?”
“No, I don’t,” answered Matt, blurting out
the truth before he thought.
“So I supposed. Well, I do. When the
sheriff and his posse were coming home, after
capturing those bank robbers, they found Joe
Wayring’s canvas canoe, and likewise the
Lefever hammerless and Winchester rifle.”
.bn 229.png
.bn 230.png
.pn +1
.il fn=p228.jpg w=500px ew=90%
.ca Tom Bigden blocks Matt Coyle’s game.
“Whoop!” yelled the squatter. “’Tain’t
so, nuther. They wasn’t all hid in the same
place.”
“I know it,” replied Tom, who knew just
nothing at all about it. The canvas canoe
might have been concealed in that hollow log
and Tom and his cousins would have been
none the wiser for it; because after the guns
had been brought to light they did not look
for any thing else. “You must remember
that there were several men in that posse, and
that they could cover a good deal of ground in
an hour’s time. They searched every inch of
those woods, and found—”
Matt opened his mouth and gasped for
breath.
“Did they—did they find—”
“No,” answered Tom, who knew what Matt
would have said if he could. “They did not
find any money. Your Jake is the only one
who knows where that is.”
“I know where it is, too,” said the squatter,
whose lip quivered as if he had half a mind to
cry about it. “But the trouble is that I can’t
find it.”
.bn 231.png
.pn +1
“Then if you can’t find it you don’t know
where it is.”
“I tell you I do too. It’s up there in the
same woods that the canoe an’ guns was hid in,”
cried Matt, once more speaking a little too
hastily.
It was now Tom’s turn to open his eyes.
After a little reflection he said—
“If you think the money is in that particular
part of the woods, why don’t you go there
and stay till you find it? Or else make Jake
show you where it is.”
“But Jakey won’t do it. He ain’t that
sort of a boy.”
“Then denounce him to the sheriff.”
“What’s that?”
“Why, expose him; tell on him. I’ll bet
you he will be quite willing to reveal the hiding-place
of those valises when he feels an officer’s
grip on his collar.”
“But what good will that do me? The
constable who takes Jakey up will get the reward
that’s been offered, an’ I shan’t see none
of it. Whoop!” shouted Matt, going off into
another paroxysm of rage. “Every thing
.bn 232.png
.pn +1
an’ every body seems to be goin’ agin me this
mornin’.”
“Well, then,” said Tom, who had the strongest
of reasons for hoping that the squatter
might never fall into the clutches of the law,
“if I were in your place, I would have a serious
talk with Jake. I’d tell him that he is sure
to be arrested, sooner or later, that it is preposterous
for him to think he can keep the money,
and urge him to give it up and claim a portion
of the reward. Some of it will have to go to
the officers who found the robbers, you know.
If you will do that, I will promise that Joe
Wayring will not prosecute you for stealing
his canoe.”
“’Taint no ways likely that Joe would do a
favor for you,” said Matt, in a discouraged
tone, “’cause you an’ him don’t hitch.”
“I know we don’t like each other any too
well, but I can say a word for you, all the
same. I don’t know that I can do any good
here, so I will go back to camp. I came
down according to agreement, but I knew I
shouldn’t make any thing by it. You held
fast to those guns too long. They have been
.bn 233.png
.pn +1
found, and your hundred dollars are up
stump.”
“If you knowed it, why did you pester me
that-a-way for?” demanded the squatter,
growing angry again.
“Why did you tell me you had the guns
hidden a little way back in the woods when
you hadn’t?” asked Tom, in reply. “I saw
through your game at once. Your object was
to get me ashore and rob me. You would
have committed a State’s prison offense; but
I shall not say any thing about it unless you
wag your tongue too freely about me. If you
do that, look out for yourself.”
So saying, Tom turned his canoe about and
started for camp, well satisfied with the result
of his interview with the squatter. He had
kept his temper in spite of strong provocation,
and made Matt believe that he was in no way
responsible for the loss of the guns. More than
that, he had given him good honest advice, and
kept up a show of friendship by making a promise
he did not mean to fulfill.
“I’d like to see myself asking a favor of that
Joe Wayring,” said he, with a sneer. “It
.bn 234.png
.pn +1
would please him too well, and I wouldn’t do
it under any circumstances. My object was to
leave Matt in good humor, if I could. Of course
he was mad because he did not get the money,
but not as mad as he would have been if he had
succeeded in getting hold of the canoe. If he had
done that, I calculated to give him such a rap
over the head with my paddle that he wouldn’t
get over it for a month. I don’t think I shall
have any more trouble with him this season.
Next vacation I shall steer clear of Indian
Lake, and take my outing somewhere else.”
Ralph Farnsworth and his brother were so
very much concerned about Tom that they did
not do any camp work after he went away.
As soon as he was out of sight, they sat down
on the bank close to the water’s edge, and there
they remained for four long, anxious hours
before Tom came around the point and showed
himself to them. When he saw them waiting
for him he took off his cap and waved it in
triumph over his head.
“He was awful mad, and, after trying in vain
to get me out on shore so that he could take
my money away from me, he rushed into the
.bn 235.png
.pn +1
water and made a grab at the canoe,” said
Tom, as he ran the bow of his little craft upon
the beach. “But, after all, I didn’t have as
much of a time with him as I thought I should.
There’s your purse, Ralph. Now, if one of
you will dish up a good dinner, I think I can
do justice to it. I haven’t had much appetite
for a day or two past, but I am ravenously
hungry now.”
With these preliminary remarks Tom Bigden
took possession of one of the hammocks and
told his story from beginning to end, saying,
in conclusion—
“That part of the woods seems to be a repository
for Matt Coyle’s stolen goods. If we
had looked a little farther we might have found
that money.”
“I wish we had,” said Loren. “Of course
we should have laid no claim to a share of the
reward. We would have given our portion to
the guides, and perhaps gained their good will
by it. Every time we go to the hotel after
supplies or mail I notice that they look at us
cross-eyed, as if they thought we were good
fellows to let alone.”
.bn 236.png
.pn +1
“And what makes them do it?” Tom almost
shouted. “It is because Joe Wayring and his
friends have gained Swan’s ears, and stuffed
him full of lies about us. Ugh! How I should
like to see that boy taken down—clear down;
as far as any body can go by land. Say,” he
added, after cooling off a little, “I am ready
to give up the guns now. Matt Coyle may
believe that Swan and his party found them at
the time they found Wayring’s canoe, and he
may not. At any rate, I do not like to take
the risk of his jumping down on our camp
some dark night and finding them here. So I
propose that we get rid of them this very afternoon.”
The others agreeing, and a bountiful dinner
having been disposed of, the three boys stepped
into their canoes and set out for Indian Lake,
taking the guns with them. A more astonished
and delighted man than Mr. Hanson was when
they walked into his office and laid the cases
upon his desk Tom and his cousins had seldom
seen; but the language in which he expressed
his gratitude for the service they had rendered
him almost made Tom wish that he had held
.bn 237.png
.pn +1
fast to the guns a little longer. After asking
when, and where, and how they had found
them, and listening with the liveliest interest
to their story, Mr. Hanson said—
“That villain Coyle shall be arrested to-morrow,
if I have unemployed guides enough
in my pay to find him. I should have been
after him two weeks ago, if it hadn’t been for
these guns; and now that I’ve got them I shall
not fool with him a day longer. You have
fairly earned the reward,” he added, opening
his money drawer, “and I am authorized—”
“We don’t need money, Mr. Hanson, and
we’ll not touch a cent of it,” interrupted Ralph.
“Give it to the guides who lost their situations
when the guns were stolen.”
“Swan and Bob Martin?” said Mr. Hanson.
“Well, they are deserving men, and, although
they did not lose their situations on account
of the loss of the guns, because they were
working for me and not for the sportsmen with
whom they went into the woods, still I know
they would be glad to have the money. I’ll
hand it to them, if you say so, and tell them I
do it at your request.”
.bn 238.png
.pn +1
“Thank you,” answered Ralph. “We shall
be much
“Hold on a minute,” said Mr. Hanson, as
the boys turned away from the desk. “The
gentlemen who own these guns are not the only
ones benefited by your lucky find. You have
saved me the loss of a good deal of patronage,
and I wish to make you some return for it.
Whenever you want any supplies, go to the
store-house and get them. They shan’t cost
you a cent.”
Thanking the landlord for his liberality,
Tom and his companions left the hotel and
walked slowly through the grounds toward the
beach.
“The place is almost deserted,” observed
Tom. “There are not half as many guests
here as there were the first time we saw the
Sportsman’s Home.”
“Probably they have gone into the woods,”
said Loren.
“Then how does it come that there are so
many guides lying around doing nothing?”
asked Tom. “I don’t believe there are many
guests in the woods. They have gone home,
.bn 239.png
.pn +1
or to other fishing grounds where their camps
will not be robbed the minute they turn their
backs. Matt said he would ruinate the hotels,
if they didn’t give him work, and he seems in
a fair way to do it.”
“Say,” whispered Ralph. “I didn’t like
what Hanson said about having Matt Coyle
arrested.”
Tom was about to answer that he didn’t
like it either, when he heard footsteps
behind him and a voice calling out: “Just
another word before you go, boys,” and upon
turning around he saw Mr. Hanson in pursuit.
“I forgot one thing,” said he, when he came
up. “Can you make it convenient to come
here day after to-morrow morning? By that
time we’ll have Matt hard and fast, most
likely. The sheriff says he will have to take
him to Irvington, that being the nearest place
at which we can have him bound over to appear
before the circuit court. I can prove by
Rube Royall, the watchman at the hatchery,
that Matt acknowledged stealing and concealing
the guns, and I shall need you to testify
.bn 240.png
.pn +1
to the finding of them. You will be around,
won’t you?”
The boys said they would, but their voices
were almost inaudible, and the faces they
turned toward one another when Mr. Hanson
had left them were very white indeed.
“Now we are in a scrape,” said Loren, who
was the first to break the silence. “Tom Bigden,
that fellow will tell all he knows about
you just so sure as you get up in court to
bear witness against him. You told him that
the guides found and returned the guns.”
“So I did,” groaned Tom. “So I did; but
he won’t be long in finding out that I lied to
him, will he? What shall I do? What can I
do? There’s one thing about it,” added Tom,
who, although badly frightened, tried to put a
bold face on the matter. “Matt Coyle has not
yet been arrested, and I’ve got so much at
stake that I don’t want him to be. I shall seek
another interview with him in the morning,
and, if I can bring it about, I will tell him just
what Hanson said about him. It is all that
Joe Wayring’s fault. If he had treated
us decently I wouldn’t have been in this scrape.
.bn 241.png
.pn +1
I’ll do that boy some injury the first good
chance I get.”
On their way to camp the boys kept within
talking distance of one another and discussed
the situation. Loren was of opinion that his
cousin Tom had better draw a bee-line for
Mount Airy bright and early the next morning;
but Tom and Ralph agreed in saying that
that would be the very worst thing that could
be done under the circumstances. Mr. Hanson
had plainly told them that he would need them
for witnesses, and if Tom was foolish enough to
run away he had better make a long run while
he was about it and get out of the State, or the
authorities would catch him sure.
“I shall not run an inch. I’ve got to stay
and face it down,” said Tom, quietly; and his
cousins knew, by the way the words came out,
that he had decided upon his course. “There
were no witnesses present when I told Matt to
steal Joe Wayring’s canoe, and the matter
will simply resolve itself into a question
of veracity; and when it comes to that I
think my word will have about as much
weight as a tramp’s. All the same, I don’t
.bn 242.png
.pn +1
want Matt arrested if it can possibly be
avoided.”
Tom slept the sleep of the exhausted that
night, and at seven o’clock the next morning
shoved his canoe away from the beach and
pulled toward the hatchery.
.bn 243.png
.pn +1
.sp 4
.h2
CHAPTER XI. | SAM ON THE TRAIL.
.sp 2
“There, now,” soliloquized Jake Coyle,
as he wended his way through the
gloomy woods after concealing the canvas
canoe and the two valises he had fished up
from the bottom of the lake. “I’m a rich
man, an’ nobody but me knows the first thing
about it. As soon as it gets daylight, I’ll come
back an’ hide the guns an’ the money an’ the
canoe all together, in a better place, so’t if pap
gets a hint of what is goin’ on, an’ I have to
dig out from home in the middle of the night,
I shall know right where to find ’em without
runnin’ through the woods to hunt ’em up.
Now, as soon as I can get Rube to buy me
some shoes an’ clothes an’ powder an’ lead,
I’ll go back to some of them swamps that I’ve
heared pap tell about, an’ trap on my own
.bn 244.png
.pn +1
hook. I’ll sell my skins in New London, ’cause
nobody don’t know me there. I’ll be ’rested
if I stay around where pap is.”
In blissful ignorance of the fact that his
father, following close behind him, had seen
almost every move he made that night, Jake
lumbered on through the darkness, and at last
found himself on the “carry” that ran close
by the door of Rube Royall’s humble abode.
Cautiously approaching the door, Jake pushed
it open and looked in. He could see nothing,
for the fire on the hearth had gone out, and the
interior of the cabin was pitch dark. But he
heard the heavy breathing of the sleepers, and,
believing that his father was among them, he
entered on tiptoe, stretched himself out on one
of the beds beside his slumbering brother, and
drew a long breath of relief. The night had
been full of excitement, and the day was destined
to bring more.
About eight o’clock the next morning, after
breakfast had been eaten and Rube had gone
to sleep, the old woman and her boys gathered
in the wood yard in front of the house, and
talked and wondered at the prolonged absence
.bn 245.png
.pn +1
of the head of the family. Jake appeared to
be very much concerned about him.
“Say, mam, when did you see him last?” he
anxiously inquired.
“Not sence you left hum last night,” was
the reply. “I didn’t think nothin’ of your bein’
gone, ’cause I thought mebbe you had went
after more grab; but I don’t see what took
the ole man away so permiscus. I couldn’t
make head or tail of the way he went snoopin’
around yisterday, first in the house, then in
the woods, an’ the next thing you knowed you
didn’t know where he was. ’Taint like him to
be gone all night in this way. Why, Jakey,
what makes your face so white?”
“Dunno; less’n it’s ’cause I’m afeared the
constables have got a hold of him,” answered
the boy.
“Oh, shucks!” exclaimed the old woman.
“You needn’t——”
She was going to say something else but
didn’t have time. Just then hasty steps
sounded on the hard path, and the three
looked up to see the missing man approaching
at a rapid run. He was angry about something,
.bn 246.png
.pn +1
Jake could see that with half an eye,
and frightened as well.
“Git outen here!” said Matt, as soon as he
could make himself heard. “Scatter! They’re
comin’!”
“Who’s comin’?” asked the old woman,
who was the only one who could speak.
“Swan, an’ all the rest of them fellers that
went out to ’rest them robbers.”
“Did they ketch ’em?”
“Now jest listen at you! Do you reckon
I stopped to talk to ’em, dog-gone ye? I dug
out soon as I heard ’em comin’ through the
woods.”
“Where was they?”
“Up there by the cove where our camp was
burned, an’ headin’ straight for it.”
“The cove?” gasped Jake.
“Yes, the cove, you ongrateful scamp, an’
goin’ as straight t’wards it as they could go.
They’re bound to nose out something there,”
said Matt, remembering that he must have
made a good many wide and plain trails while
he was roaming around looking for Jake’s
treasure, “an’ if they find them two grip-sacks
.bn 247.png
.pn +1
that you left there last night I wouldn’t be in
them ragged clothes of your’n, Jakey, for no
money in this broad world. You are a purty
chap to go an’ find six thousand dollars an’
hide it from your pap, I do think. Now scatter
out an’ make for that there cove as quick
as it is safe. Then we’ll be on their trail,
’stead of havin’ them on our’n. Jakey, stay
where I can put my hands on you when I want
you.”
These words recalled the boy’s senses and
brought his power of action back to him. He
did not know which he stood the most in fear
of—his father’s wrath, the probable loss of his
money, or the sheriff and his posse; but he
did know that he was not safe where he was,
so he caught up his rifle, which rested against
a log close at hand, and took to his heels.
Sam was frightened, too, but not to the same
degree that Matt and Jake were, because he
was not as guilty. He kept his wits about him,
and proved by his subsequent movements that
he could act as promptly and intelligently in a
crisis as his brother could. When Jake disappeared,
and Matt and his wife ran into the
.bn 248.png
.pn +1
cabin to collect the few articles of value they
possessed, previous to seeking safety in flight,
Sam stood and communed thus with himself:
“Beats the world, an’ I don’t begin to see
through it; but how did that Jake of our’n get
them six thousand dollars that was stole outen
the Irvin’ton bank? He’s got ’em, ’cause pap
said so; an’ they’re hid somewheres near the
place where our old camp used to be.
Wonder if Jakey is goin’ there now? I reckon
I’d best keep an eye on him an’ find out.
Why didn’t he go halvers with the rest of us,
like he’d oughter done? If I can get my
hands on that money he won’t never see it
agin, I tell you.”
Jake Coyle’s brain was in such a whirl that
he never once thought to look behind him as
he hurried through the woods toward the head
of the outlet; and even if he had he might not
have seen Sam, who was a short distance in his
rear and keeping him constantly in sight; for
Sam took pains to cover himself with every
tree and bush that came in his way. Once he
came near being caught; for Jake, recalling
his angry sire’s parting words, and apprehensive
.bn 249.png
.pn +1
of being followed, suddenly threw himself
behind a log and watched the trail over which
he had just passed. But, fortunately for Sam,
he saw the movement, rapid as it was, and
stopped in time to escape detection. A less
skillful woodsman would have lost Jake then
and there, or else he would have run upon him
before he knew it.
After spending a quarter of an hour in
patient waiting Jake must have become
satisfied that his fears of pursuit were groundless,
for he jumped up and again took to his
heels. He kept on past the outlet, skirted the
shore of the lake until he came within a short
distance of the place where Tom Bigden and
the squatter held their consultations, and there
he took to the woods and struck a straight
course for the cove, Sam following close
behind.
It was ten miles to the cove by land, and all
the way through timber that had never
echoed to the woodman’s ax. It was a
distance that few city-bred boys could have
covered at a trot, but it was nothing to the
squatter’s sons, who would have done it any
.bn 250.png
.pn +1
day for a dollar. Twice while on the way did
Jake try his “dropping” dodge, but Sam was
too sharp to be caught. The last time he
tried it was when he was within a stone’s
throw of the cove; and then he dived into a
thicket, and waited and watched for half an
hour before he made a move. Sam, patient
and tireless as an Indian, did not move, either,
until he saw Jake come out of the thicket and
make his way toward the log in which the
stolen guns were concealed. He saw him take
out the cases, one after the other, and hide
them in another log nearer the cove; and
while he was wondering what his brother’s
object could be in doing that the sound of
voices in conversation came from the direction
of the creek, whereupon Jake fled with the
greatest precipitation, hardly daring to stop
long enough to cover the end of the log with a
bush which he cut with a knife. He threw
himself behind the first fallen tree he came to,
and looked cautiously over it to see what was
going to happen.
Jake thought, and so did Sam, that the
voices belonged to the members of the sheriff’s
.bn 251.png
.pn +1
posse, who were still loitering about in the
vicinity of the cove to see what else they could
find there; consequently their surprise was
great when they saw Ralph Farnsworth step
out of the evergreens with his gun on his
shoulder. He stopped and looked around
when he stumbled over the bush that concealed
the end of the log, stooped over for a minute,
and when he straightened up again he held in
his hands the Victoria case in which reposed
the Lefever hammerless. Then it was that
Ralph sent up those excited calls to attract the
attention of his companions, who presently
joined him.
If Jake and Sam had been working in harmony,
they never would have remained inactive
in their places of concealment and let
Tom and his cousins carry off those guns.
Jake, especially, was hopping mad. He got
upon his knees, exposing so much of his ragged
clothing above the log that he certainly would
have been seen if Tom and the rest had glanced
in his direction, and shook his fists over his
head.
“They’re thieves theirselves if they take
.bn 252.png
.pn +1
them guns away,” muttered Jake, between his
clenched teeth. “I was goin’ to give ’em to
Rube, an’ tell him to buy me some shoes an’
clothes outen my shar’ of the reward; but
now I can’t have ’em. I wisht they would go
off; for if they tech them grip-sacks—”
Jake finished the sentence by pushing up
his sleeves and looking around for a club.
The money was hidden but a short distance
from that very log, and if Tom and his cousins
had found it Jake would have rushed out and
fought them single-handed before he would
have given up his claim to it. But things did
not come to that pass. Ralph had come upon
the guns by the merest accident, and he and his
friends did not think to search for any other
stolen property. They took the guns away
with them, and the minute they were out of
sight Jake began to bestir himself. He came out
on his hands and knees, crawled past the empty
log, and disappeared among the bushes on the
other side of it. While Sam was trying to decide
whether or not it would be quite safe to
follow him, Jake glided into view again, holding
a valise under each arm.
.bn 253.png
.pn +1
“There they are! Sure’s you’re born, there
they are!” cried Sam, in great excitement;
and if he had uttered the words a little louder
Jake would have heard him. “Now, all I’ve
got to do is to keep my eyes on them things
an’ never lose track of ’em agin.”
And Sam didn’t lose track of them, either,
although Jake spent nearly an hour in hunting
up a safe hiding-place for them. He ran
swiftly from point to point, closely scrutinizing
every log and thicket he came to and stopping
now and then to listen, and Sam followed
him wherever he went and saw all he
did. At last Jake found a place to suit him.
A gigantic poplar had been overturned by the
wind, and in falling had pulled up a good
portion of the earth in which its far-reaching
roots were embedded, thus forming a cavity
so deep and wide that Rube Royall’s cabin
could have been buried in it, chimney and
all. Into this cavity Jake recklessly plunged,
and when he came out again fifteen minutes
later his arms were empty. He had left the
valises behind.
“An’ he won’t never see ’em agin, nuther,”
.bn 254.png
.pn +1
said Sam, gleefully. “They’re mine now, an’
so is the money that’s into ’em.”
During the long hours he had spent in dogging
his brother’s steps, Sam Coyle had not been
so highly excited as he was at this moment.
When Jake disappeared, apparently holding
a direct course for Rube’s cabin, Sam did not
move. Impatient as he was to see the color
of that money, he was too wary to imperil
his chances by doing any thing hasty.
“I can stay right yer till I get so hungry I
can’t stay no longer,” was his mental reflection;
“but Jake’s got to show up purty soon,
’cause if he don’t, him an’ pap’ll have a
furse. He told Jake, pap did, that he wanted
him to stay where he could get his hands onto
him; an’ when pap talks that-a-way, he
means business. So I reckon Jake will go a
lumberin’ towards hum till he meets pap, an’
then he’ll pertend that he’s been a-lookin for
him.”
When this thought passed through Sam’s
mind it occurred to him that he had better not
remain too long inactive, for this might be the
last opportunity he would ever have to remove
.bn 255.png
.pn +1
the money from Jake’s hiding-place to
another of his own selection; so, after half
an hour’s waiting, Sam set himself in motion.
He did not get upon his feet, nor did he go
directly toward the fallen poplar. He crawled
along on his stomach and made a wide detour,
so as to approach the cavity on the side opposite
to that on which Jake had entered and
left it. Of course this took him a long time,
but he made up for it by the readiness with
which he found the money when he arrived
at the end of his toilsome journey. A little
prodding among the leaves at the foot of the
poplar brought the valises to light, and in ten
minutes more they were hidden in another
place where Jake, when he discovered his
loss, would never think of looking for them.
They were not shoved into a hollow log nor
covered up in the leaves. They were placed
high among the thick branches of an evergreen
and tied fast there, so that the wind
would not shake them out.
“There,” said Sam, after he had made a
circuit of the tree and viewed it from all sides.
“Nobody can’t find ’em now. They are mine,
.bn 256.png
.pn +1
sure. I reckon I’d best go to the cove an’
set down, ’cause pap’ll be along directly.”
Sam had barely time to reach the cove and
compose himself when Matt put in an appearance.
His first words explained why he had
been so long in getting there, and quieted the
fear that suddenly sprang up in Sam’s mind,
that his father had been following him as he
himself had followed Jake.
“Haven’t I said all along that Rube wasn’t
by no means the friend to us that he pertends
to be?” said the squatter, fiercely. “I didn’t
run as fur into the bresh as you boys an’ the
ole woman did, but got behind a log where I
could see every thing that was done at the
shanty. I seen the sheriff’s men when they
come outen the woods an’ surrounded the
house, an’ purty quick along come Swan,
watchin’ over the two robbers an’ carryin’ a
pistol in one hand an’ Jake’s canvas canoe in
the other. They waked Rube up, an’ he stood
in the door an’ talked to ’em as friendly as
you please. He showed ’em where we hid the
two skiffs we stole from Swan’s party on the
day they burned our camp at this here cove;
.bn 257.png
.pn +1
an’ then one of the robbers an’ sheriff an’ five
or six guides an’ constables got into ’em an’
pulled up to that snag opposite Haskinses’
landin’, in the hope of findin’ them six thousand
dollars. But they had their trouble for
their pains. Jakey brought ’em up with your
mam’s clothes-line last night, an’ hid ’em somewheres
around here. Seen any thing of Jake
since you been here?”
“Nary thing,” replied Sam. “I was a
wonderin’ why he didn’t come. You told him
to stay where you could get your hands onto
him.”
“So I did, an’ this is the way he minds his
pap, the ongrateful scamp. I wanted him to
meet me here an’ show me where that money
is. He needn’t think he’s goin’ to keep it all,
even if he did capsize them robbers. I’m the
one who oughter have the care of it, bein’ as
I’m the head man of the house. Ain’t that
so, Sammy?”
“Course it is. If I’d found it, I would have
gone halvers with you. How do you know Jake
brung it up here an’ hid it?”
“’Cause I follered him. That’s what kept
.bn 258.png
.pn +1
me out all night. I was lookin’ for it when I
heard Swan an’ the rest of the guides comin’.
I wisht Jakey would hurry up an’ come.”
“Say, pap,” exclaimed Sam. “Let’s me
an’ you hunt for the money all by ourselves.
If we find it, we’ll hold fast to it an’ never
give Jake a cent to pay him for bein’ so
stingy.”
“I’d like mighty well if we could do it,”
answered Matt. “But I looked high an’ low
for it all last night, an’ not a thing that was
shaped like a grip-sack could I find. I’m jest
done out with tiredness. You look for it,
Sammy, an’ I’ll lay down here an’ take a little
sleep.”
Without waiting to hear whether or not this
proposition was agreeable to Sam, the squatter
stretched his heavy frame upon the leaves,
pulled his remnant of a hat over his face and
prepared for rest. Sam looked curiously at
him for a moment, then arose to his feet and
disappeared. He went straight to the log
behind which Jake had concealed himself
when alarmed by Ralph Farnsworth’s approach,
scraped a few leaves together for a
.bn 259.png
.pn +1
bed, and laid himself down upon it. But
before he went to sleep he made up his mind
that he would not say a word to his father
about the loss of the guns; it would hardly
be safe. Sam knew that his father expected
to make some money out of those guns, and
when he found that he could not do it, he
would be apt to lose his temper and try to take
satisfaction out of somebody.
“That would be me,” soliloquized Sam,
“’cause I am the nighest to his hand. I
guess I’d best pertend that I don’t know
nothin’ about them guns. Let pap find out
for himself that they are gone, an’ then he’ll
think that Swan found ’em when he found
the canoe.”
Having come to this decision Sam settled
himself for a comfortable nap, from which he
was aroused an hour before dark by his father’s
stentorian voice. He got upon his feet and
brushed the leaves from his clothing before he
answered.
“Well, what’s the use of yellin’ that-a-way
an’ tellin’ Swan an’ all the rest of the guides
where you be?” shouted Sam. “Here I am.”
.bn 260.png
.pn +1
“Have you found the money?” asked Matt,
in lower tones.
“Course not. If I had, I should ’a’ waked
you up. ’Tain’t in these here woods, pap,
’cause if there’s an inch of ’em that I ain’t
peeped into sence you’ve been asleep I don’t
know where it is.”
“I tell you it is hid in these woods too,”
said the squatter, angrily. “Didn’t I foller
Jake up here an’ hang around while he was
hidin’ the grip-sacks an’ the canoe?”
“Well, then was the time that you oughter
jumped out an’ took it away from him,” said
Sam. “I’ll bet you the guides found it same’s
they did the canoe.”
“Now, jest listen at you! Wasn’t I hid in
plain sight of them when they was ferried
acrost the outlet at the hatchery, an’ didn’t
I take pains to see that they didn’t have no
grip-sacks with ’em? If I had took it away
from him by force he would have got mad an’
went an’ told on me; don’t you see? I knowed
that the only chance I had was to steal the
money unbeknownst to Jakey, an’ make him
think the guides got it. Looked in every place
.bn 261.png
.pn +1
without findin’ it, did you? Well, there’s one
thing about it. If Jakey don’t come up here to-morrer
an’ give me them six thousand dollars,
I’ll tell on him, an’ he shan’t live in my family
no longer. It’s most dark, Sammy, an’
time for me an’ you to be a-lumberin’.”
“Where to?” inquired Sam.
“Why, to Rube’s, in course. We ain’t got
no place else to go, have we?”
“But what’s the sense in goin’ there when
you know Rube ain’t friendly to you?”
“Me an’ your mam talked it all over, an’ we
know jest what we’re goin’ to do,” replied the
squatter. “We’ve got to take to the woods
now, an’ live like we done before Rube opened
his shanty to us. We’re in danger long’s we
stay there, an’ this night will be the last one
we shall ever spend under his roof. But we’ve
got to have some furnitur’ to put into our
shanty after we get it built, an’ we’ll try to
get it of Rube. I shall make enough outen
them guns to buy the furnitur’, an’ then if
Jake will come to his senses an’ give me the
handlin’ of that money we’ll live like fightin’
fowls; won’t we, Sammy?”
.bn 262.png
.pn +1
Aloud Sam said he thought they would;
but to himself he said it would be a long time
before his father would have the handling of
that money. He intended to keep every dollar
of it, although, for the life of him, he could
not make up his mind what he would do with it.
It was dark long before Sam and his father
reached the cabin, and the only member of the
family they found there was the old woman,
Rube being at the hatchery on watch, and Jake
having failed to “show up.” That made Matt
furious.
“Looks as if he meant to keep outen our
way, find that money when he gets a good
ready, an’ take himself off,” exclaimed the
squatter. “It won’t work, that plan won’t.
I ain’t fooled the sheriff an’ all his constables
for years an’ years to let myself be beat by one
of my own boys at last, I bet you. We’ll
stay here to-night, ’cause we ain’t nowhere
else to go, an’ to-morrer we’ll buy some bed-furnitur’
an’ cookin’-dishes of Rube, an’ go
to hidin’ in the woods agin. If Jakey wants
to live with us, he’d best bring them six thousand
dollars with him when he comes hum.”
.bn 263.png
.pn +1
The squatter went to sleep fully expecting
to find the missing boy occupying his shake-down
when he awoke in the morning; but he
was disappointed. His absence alarmed Matt,
who began to fear that Jake had fallen into
the hands of the constables; but a few cautious
questions propounded to Rube, when the
latter came to breakfast, set his fears on that
score at rest.
“No; the sheriff didn’t ketch Jakey,” said
the watchman, “but he was clost after him,
’cause he knowed that Jakey was the chap
who took the robbers over the lake and spilled
the grip-sacks into the water. How did the
sheriff find that out? The robbers told him,
an’ described Jake an’ his canoe so well that
all the guides knew in a minute who they
would have to arrest. Where did Jake hide
the money after he fished it outen the lake?”
“How do you ’spose I know!” growled
Matt.
“Who should know if you don’t?” replied
Rube. “I seen you follerin’ him in a skiff.”
“Well,” said Matt, who saw it would be
useless for him to deny it, “I don’t know
.bn 264.png
.pn +1
where he put the money, an’ I’m mighty sorry
for it. Seen any thing of Jake lately?”
“No, I ain’t, an’ what’s more I don’t expect
to see him again very soon, either. He’ll
keep clear of me, for he knows that if I could
find him it would be my bounden dooty to
take him up an’ lay claim to part of the six
hundred dollars reward. All you’ve got to
do is to make yourselves comfortable here in
my house—”
“Well, we ain’t goin’ to make ourselves
comfortable in your house no longer,” interrupted
Matt. “We’re thinkin’ of takin’ to
the woods.”
“What for?”
“’Cause we don’t think it safe here so nigh
the place the constables come every time they
go into the woods. We’d feel better if we was
a piece furder off from ’em.”
Rube carelessly inquired where his guest
thought of going; but Matt did not give him
any satisfaction on that point. He thought
he might as well send word to the sheriff and
be done with it. Then he broached the subject
of furniture, and found that, although
.bn 265.png
.pn +1
Rube was quite willing to sell what he did
not need for his own use, he had one hard
condition to impose. Cash up and no trust
had been his motto through life, and he was
too old to depart from it now. He wanted to
see the color of Matt’s money before he let a
single thing go.
“That’s the way I’m workin’ it to keep him
here till I can find them guns,” thought the
watchman, as he threw himself upon his shakedown.
“Matt ain’t got ten cents to his name;
an’ where’s he goin’ to get it? Winter’s
comin’ on, an’ it would be the death of him
an’ all his family to take to the woods without
something to wrap themselves up in of nights,
an’ so I reckon they’ll stay here with me for a
while longer. But I don’t know what to think
about Jakey.”
Rube Royall was not the only one who did
not know what to think of him.
.bn 266.png
.pn +1
.sp 4
.h2
CHAPTER XII. | ABOUT VARIOUS THINGS.
.sp 2
When the watchman took possession of
his shake-down Matt Coyle and his
family, following their usual custom, adjourned
to the open air and sat on the logs in
the wood-yard, smoking their pipes, talking
over their troubles, and consulting as to the
means they ought to employ to “get even”
with the guides and other well-to-do people
who were so relentlessly persecuting them.
On this particular morning they talked about
Jake and his unaccountable absence; that is,
Matt and his wife did the talking, and Sam
sat and listened, all the while looking as innocent
as though he had never heard of the
Irvington bank robbery, or felt the weight of
the two valises that contained the six thousand
stolen dollars. His brother Jake would have
betrayed himself a dozen times in as many
.bn 267.png
.pn +1
minutes; but Sam did nothing to arouse
suspicion against him. Matt at last gave it
as his opinion that Jake intended to run away
with the money, and repeated what he had
said the night before—that a man who had
spent years of his life in dodging constables
was not to be beaten by one of his own boys.
Then he filled a fresh pipe and strolled off
toward the hatchery. He thought that was
the safest place for him, for if the sheriff came
back after Jake Matt would see him when he
signaled for a boat to take him across the outlet,
and have plenty of time to run to the cabin
and warn his family.
Of course the squatter did not show himself
openly. He took up a position from which he
could see every thing that went on about the
hatchery, and smoked several pipes while he
waited for something to “turn up.” If the
sheriff was looking for Jake, he certainly did
not come near the outlet; but somebody else
did. It was Tom Bigden. Matt, of course,
was not aware that the boy had come there
seeking an interview with him; but when he
saw him loitering about the hatchery with
.bn 268.png
.pn +1
no apparent object an idea suddenly popped
into the squatter’s head.
“I jest know that Bigden boy didn’t tell
me the truth when he said that him an’ his
cousins was strapped for money, an’ that they
would have to go to Mount Airy before they
could buy them guns of me,” soliloquized
Matt. “I’ll watch my chance to ketch him
while he is on his way to camp, an’ tell him
that I can’t wait no ten days for my money.
I must have it to onct, ’cause I want to buy
that furnitur’ of Rube.”
While he was talking to himself in this
way Matt got up and started for the lake;
and, as we have seen, he got there in time to
intercept Tom Bigden. So far as Matt was
concerned, the interview was a most unsatisfactory
one. Tom was so very haughty and
independent that the squatter knew, before he
had exchanged half a dozen words with him,
that there was “something wrong somewheres.”
When Tom paddled away, after promising
to meet Matt the next morning at seven
o’clock, he left the man revolving some deep
.bn 269.png
.pn +1
problems in his mind. Matt never once suspected
that Tom had found the guns, but he
did fear that he had found the valises that
contained the bank’s money, and the thought
was enough to drive him almost frantic. As
soon as Tom was out of sight he caught up
his rifle and posted off to the cabin to see if
Jake had been there during his absence; but
neither Sam nor the old woman could tell anything
about him.
“I’d give every thing I’ve got in the world
if I could get my hand on that boy’s collar, for
jest one minute,” cried Matt, as he stormed
about the wood-yard shaking his fists in the
air. “He kalkerlates to ruinate the whole of
us by runnin’ off with them six thousand.
I’ll tell you what we’ll do, ole woman. To-morrer
mornin’ at seven o’clock I shall have
money enough to buy the furnitur’ we need,
an’ soon’s we get it we’ll go up to the cove an’
camp there agin. Jake hid that money somewheres
around there, an’ if he don’t take it
away to-day he won’t never get it, for we
shall be there to stop him. Don’t you reckon
that’s the best thing we can do?”
.bn 270.png
.pn +1
Too highly excited to remain long in one
place, Matt did not stop to hear his wife’s
answer, but posted off to the cove after the
guns. He might never see a cent of the six
thousand dollars, he told himself, but the guns
he was sure of.
“That Bigden boy didn’t say, in so many
words, that he had fifty dollars to pay for
them, but he winked, an’ that’s as good an
answer as I want. He wouldn’t dare fool me,
knowin’ as he does that I can have him ’rested
any time I feel like it. Here is where we left
’em,” said Matt, stooping down in front of the
log in which he and his boys had concealed the
property he wanted to find. “But I do think
in my soul that somebody has been here. The
chunks is all scattered around an’—yes, sir;
the guns is gone.”
Matt dropped upon his hands and knees
and peered into the hollow, which he saw at a
glance was empty. Then he seated himself
upon the log and took his pipe from his
pocket. He did not whoop and yell, as he
usually did when things went wrong with him,
for this new misfortune fairly stunned him.
.bn 271.png
.pn +1
His knowledge of the English language was so
limited that he could not do justice to his
feelings; but by the time he had smoked his
pipe out he had made up his mind what he
would do.
“In course that Bigden boy will have the
fifty dollars in his pocket when he comes
after the guns to-morrer,” said he. “So all
I’ve got to do is to get him ashore an’ take it
away from him. I reckon I’ve lost them six
thousand, but I ain’t goin’ to be cheated on all
sides, I bet you. Then if he blabs, I’ll tell
about his bein’ in ca-hoots with me when I
stole Joe Wayring’s canvas canoe. I reckon
that’s the best thing I can do.”
I have already told you how hard Matt tried
to carry out this programme when he met Tom
Bigden on the following morning and how
signally he failed. Tom could not be induced
to approach very close to the beach, and was
so wide-awake and so quick with his paddle
that Matt could not seize his canoe. The
squatter’s proverbial luck seemed to have forsaken
him at last. He was being worsted at
every point.
.bn 272.png
.pn +1
I pass over the next few days, during which
little occurred that was worthy of note. Jake
Coyle kept aloof from his kindred, who had
not the faintest idea where he was or how he
lived. Matt and the rest of his family again
established their camp at the cove, and they
did not go there a single day too soon; for
when it became known among the guides that
the stolen guns had been found and given into
Mr. Hanson’s keeping a dozen of them plunged
into the woods, intent on earning the hundred
dollars that had been offered for the squatter’s
apprehension, and ridding the country of a
dangerous man at the same time. Tom Bigden
and his cousins fished a little and lounged
in their hammocks a good deal, and, having
had time to become thoroughly disgusted with
camp life, were talking seriously of going
home.
As bad luck would have it, the three boys
went up to the Sportsman’s Home after their
mail on the same day that Mr. Swan returned
from his trip to Mount Airy. They heard him
say that he had restored the canvas canoe to
his owner, that Joe Wayring was all ready to
.bn 273.png
.pn +1
pay another visit to Indian Lake, and that he
and his two chums might be expected to arrive
at any hour. Ralph and his brother did not
pay much attention to this, for they didn’t
like Joe well enough to be interested in his
movements; but Tom paid a good deal of attention
to it. He spent an hour or two the
next morning in loafing about the hatchery,
and another hour on the beach waiting for
Matt Coyle. That was the time he was seen
by a couple of guides and their employers, who
were camping on the opposite side of the Lake,
and who had a good deal to say about the
incident when they went back to their hotel.
They saw Matt plainly when he came out of
the bushes and accosted Tom, and if they had
been near enough they might have overheard
the following conversation:
“I seen you hangin’ around the hatchery,
an’ thought that mebbe you had something to
say to me; so I come up yer,” said Matt, who,
for some reason, was in exceedingly good
humor.
“You have been a long time coming,” was
Tom’s reply. “I began to get tired of waiting
.bn 274.png
.pn +1
and was about to start for camp. What has
come over you all of a sudden? You are not
quite as ugly as you were the last time I saw
you.”
“An’ you ain’t quite so skittish, nuther,”
retorted Matt. “I couldn’t get you to come
ashore last time you was here.”
“Of course not. You meant to rob me,
and I knew it. What good fortune has befallen
you now?”
“You may well ask that,” replied the squatter,
sitting down on the log and producing his
never failing pipe. “I did think one spell
that luck was agin me, but now I know it ain’t.
The reason I kept you waitin’ so long for me
was ’cause I run foul of Jake as I was comin’
here.”
As soon as Tom had time to recover from the
surprise that these words occasioned, he told
himself that he wouldn’t be in Jake’s place for
any money.
“I ain’t sot eyes on that there boy for
better’n a week, an’ you can’t begin to think
how tickled I was to see him,” continued Matt.
“He’s been livin’ tol’able hard since he’s been
.bn 275.png
.pn +1
away from hum, an’ I reckon it’ll do him good
to get a jolly tuck-out onct more.”
The squatter might have added that he and
his family had also lived tolerable hard during
Jake’s absence. They had put themselves on
half rations, trying to make their bacon and
potatoes last as long as possible, for when their
larder was empty they did not know where
the next supply was coming from.
“What did you do to Jake when you ran
foul of him?” inquired Tom.
“What did I do to him? Why should I
want to do any thing to him, seein’ that he has
come hum to show me where them six thousand
is hid? I jest tied him hard an’ fast, so’t
I could easy find him agin, an’ left him in the
bresh behind Rube’s cabin with the ole woman
watchin’ over him to see that he don’t get
loose,” replied Matt, with a grin. “Did you
want to say any thing to me?”
“I thought it might interest you to know
that your friend Joe Wayring is coming back
to Indian Lake, and that he will probably
bring Jake’s canoe with him,” answered Tom.
“Is that all?” exclaimed Matt, knocking
.bn 276.png
.pn +1
the ashes from his pipe and glaring fiercely at
the boy. “Have you made me tramp three
or four miles through the woods jest to tell
me that? I don’t care for Joe Wayring an’ his
ole boat now. They can go where they please
an’ do what they have a mind to, so long’s
they keep clear of me. I wisht I hadn’t come.
Jakey an’ me might have been most up to the
cove where the money is hid by this time.”
Seeing that Matt was disposed to get angry
at him for the time he had wasted and the long
tramp he had taken for nothing, Tom stepped
into his canoe and shoved off, while the squatter
disappeared in the woods, grumbling as he
went. He took the shortest course for the outlet,
and in the thickest part of the woods, a
short distance in the rear of the watchman’s
cabin, found his wife keeping guard over the
helpless Jake, who was so tightly wrapped in
ropes that he could scarcely move a finger.
The woman had accompanied Matt to the
hatchery with the intention of begging a few
eatables of Rube; but, finding him fast asleep,
she helped herself to every thing she could find
in the house, without taking the trouble to
.bn 277.png
.pn +1
awaken him. When Matt came suddenly upon
Jake in the woods and made a prisoner of
him before he had time to think twice, his
mother was on hand to stand sentry over him.
“That Bigden boy made me go miles outen
my way an’ lose two or three hours besides,
jest ’cause he wanted to tell me that Joe Wayring
is comin’ back to Injun Lake directly,”
said the squatter, in response to his wife’s inquiring
look. “Jest as if I cared for him when
there’s six thousand dollars waitin’ for me.
Now, Jakey, what brung you to the hatchery?
I ain’t had a chance to ask you before.”
“I come to git some grub, for I’m nigh
starved to death,” said Jake, and his pinched
face and sunken eyes bore testimony to the
truth of his words. “I allowed to take one
of the skiffs that we stole from Swan and his
crowd, an’ go up to the lake an’ rob another
suller.”
“Well, you wouldn’t have found the skiffs,
even if I hadn’t collared you before you
knowed I was within a mile of you,” answered
Matt. “Rube told the guides where we hid
’em, an’ they took ’em off the same day they
.bn 278.png
.pn +1
carried away your canvas canoe. But I’m glad
you come after one of ’em, for it brung you
plump into the arms of your pap, who has
been waitin’ for more’n a week for you to
came an’ show him where you hid them six
thousand dollars. Be you ready to do it now,
Jakey?”
“I allers kalkerlated to do it,” replied Jake.
“Sure hope to die, I did.”
“I’m glad to hear it; but I’d been gladder if
you had brung the money to me the minute
you found it. Untie his feet, ole woman, an’
we’ll go back to camp.”
“An’ my hands, too,” added Jake.
“You don’t need your hands to walk with,”
said Matt.
“But I need ’em to keep the bresh from
hittin’ me in the face while we are goin’
through the woods, don’t I?”
“Oh, shucks! The lickin’ you’ll get from
the bresh won’t be a patchin’ to the one you’ll
get from me if we don’t find them grip-sacks
tol’able easy,” replied Matt in significant
tones. “Now, you go on ahead, takin’ the
shortest cut, an’ me an’ yer mam’ll foller.”
.bn 279.png
.pn +1
Having helped the boy to his feet, Matt
waved his hand toward the cove, as if he were
urging a hound to take up a trail, and Jake
staggered off. I say staggered, because he was
too weak to move with his usual springy step.
When his strength failed through long fasting,
his courage also left him, and Jake had at last
determined that if he could secure one of the
skiffs he would take the money to Indian Lake
and give it up to the sheriff. He was afraid to
surrender it to his father, because he knew
that Matt would thrash him for not giving it
up before. His father came upon him suddenly
while he was making his way around the
hatchery toward the place where the skiffs had
been concealed, and Jake, too weak to run and
too spiritless to resist, was easily made captive.
He was very hungry, and repeatedly
begged his father to untie his hands and give
him a slice off the loaf of bread that he could
see in the bundle the old woman carried on
her arm; but Matt would not listen to him.
“Show us the money first, Jakey,” was his
invariable reply, “an’ then you shall have all
you want. But not a bite do you get till I feel
.bn 280.png
.pn +1
the heft of them grip-sacks. ’Tain’t likely
that I’ll go outen my way to please a ongrateful
scamp of a boy who finds six thousand dollars
an’ hides it from his pap.”
The long ten-mile tramp through the woods
exhausted the last particle of Jake Coyle’s
strength, and when he led his father to the
brink of the cavity at the foot of the poplar
he wilted like a blade of grass that had been
struck by the frost.
“Is it in there?” cried Matt, excitedly.
“Yes; clear down to the bottom, clost up
under the roots of the tree,” said Jake,
faintly. “Now, mam, untie my hands an’
give me a blink of that bread, can’t ye?”
The woman, who was not quite so heartless
as her husband, thought she might safely
comply with the request. Jake could not have
got up a trot to save his life; but he had
strength enough to eat, and the way Rube’s
bread and cold fried bacon disappeared before
his attacks was astonishing. He ate until his
mother called a halt and reminded him that if
he kept on there wouldn’t be anything left
over for supper.
.bn 281.png
.pn +1
Meanwhile Matt was working industriously,
almost frantically, expecting every moment that
the stick with which he was making the leaves
fly in all directions would strike one of the
valises. In a very short space of time the
ground about the roots of the tree was as bare
as the back of his hand, but nothing was to be
seen of the money. Having taken the sharp
edge off his appetite, Jake began showing some
interest in the proceedings, and the longer his
father worked, the wider his eyes opened.
“You don’t seem to throw out nothing, pap,”
said he, at last.
“I know I don’t,” answered Matt. “But
you will seem to feel something if I don’t find
it directly, for I’ll lick ye good fashion.”
“As sure’s you live an’ breathe, pap, I hid it
there, clost under the roots of that tree,” said
Jake, who was almost overwhelmed with
astonishment. “I can’t for the life of me
think what’s went with it.”
“Mebbe you can after you’ve had a hickory
laid over your back a few times,” replied Matt.
“I’ve heard tell that a good lickin’ goes a long
ways in stirrin’ up a boy’s ideas.”
.bn 282.png
.pn +1
Just then a new actor appeared upon the
scene. It was Sam Coyle, who had been left
in camp to watch over things during the
absence of his father and mother. While dozing
over the fire he heard and recognized his
father’s voice, and came out to see what he was
doing. He took care to pass the tree in which
the valises were hidden, and to look among the
branches to make sure that they were still there.
“Hallo, Jakey,” said he, in a surprised
tone. “Where did you drop down from?
What be you lookin’ for, pap?”
“Jakey allowed that he come hum to show
me where them six thousand was hid; but it’s
my idee that he come a purpose to get his
jacket dusted, ’cause the money ain’t here,”
replied Matt. “Jakey oughter know better
than to try to fool his pap that a-way.”
“I ain’t tryin’ to fool you,” protested Jake.
“I put the grip-sacks into that hole, an’ I
don’t see where they be now.”
“If he is tryin’ to make a fule of his pap,
he deserves a lickin’,” continued Matt, paying
no sort of attention to Jake. “An’ if he
hid the money here, an’ somebody come along
.bn 283.png
.pn +1
an’ found it, he had oughter have a lickin’ for
that, too, to pay him for not givin’ it up to me
the minute he got it.”
As the squatter said this he threw down the
stick with which he had been turning over the
leaves, climbed out of the hole and began looking
for a switch. Jake saw that things were
getting serious, and so did Sam. It is doubtful
if the latter would have revealed the hiding-place
of the money to save his brother from
punishment, but still he did not want to see
him whipped.
“Look a here, pap,” said Jake, desperately.
“I told you honest when I said I put the grip-sacks
at the root of that there tree. You can
pound me if you want to, but it’ll be wuss for
you if you do.”
There was something in the tone of his voice
that made Matt pause and look at him.
“What do you reckon you’re goin’ to do?”
said he.
“In the first place, I shan’t steal no grub to
feed a pap who pounds me for jest nothin’,”
replied the boy.
“I ain’t a-goin’ to pound you for nothin’.
.bn 284.png
.pn +1
I’m goin’ to pay you for not givin’ me the
money.”
“An’ in the next place I shan’t stay with
you no longer,” continued Jake. “I’ll go
down to one of them hotels an’ tell every thing
I know.”
“Whoop!” yelled Matt, jumping up and
knocking his heels together. “Then you’ll
be took up for a thief.”
“I don’t care. I’ll be took up some time,
most likely, an’ it might as well be this week
as next. I ain’t to blame ’cause the money
ain’t where I left it, an’ I won’t be larruped
for it nuther.”
Matt was in a quandary, and he could not
see any way to get out of it without lowering
his dignity. According to his way of thinking
Jake deserved punishment for the course he
had pursued, but Matt dared not administer it
for fear that the boy would take revenge on
him in the manner he had threatened. At
this juncture Sam came to his assistance.
“Look a yer, pap,” said he. “You was hid
in the bresh where you could see the sheriff
an’ his crowd when they crossed the outlet on
.bn 285.png
.pn +1
the mornin’ they stole Jake’s canoe, wasn’t
you? Well, couldn’t you have seen the gun-cases
if they had ’em in their hands?”
Matt said he thought he could.
“You didn’t see ’em, did you? Then don’t
that go to prove that the guides didn’t find the
guns when they found the canoe? Somebody
else took ’em, an’ the money, too.”
“Who do you reckon it was?”
“I’ll bet it was that Bigden crowd.”
“I’ll bet it was too,” exclaimed Jake, catching
at the suggestion as drowning men catch
at straws. Of course he knew that Tom and his
cousins carried off the guns, for he had seen
them do it; but he dared not say so, for fear
that his father would punish him for permitting
it. Where the money went was a question
that was altogether too deep for him.
Matt was so impressed by Sam’s answer that
he found it necessary to sit down and fill and
light his pipe.
“I’ll bet it was, too,” said he, when he had
taken a few long whiffs. “I thought that
Bigden boy was mighty sot up an’ independent
the second time I seen him, an’ he
.bn 286.png
.pn +1
could afford to be, knowin’, as he did, that I
couldn’t perduce the guns. Now what’s to be
done about it?”
“Why can’t we take a run down to their
camp to-morrer an’ see what they’ve got in
it?” said Jake. “Of course we’ll have to
swim to get on their side of the creek—”
“An’ jest for the reason that we ain’t got
no boat,” snarled Matt. “That’s what comes
of my givin’ that canoe to you ’stead of keepin’
it for my own. You hid it where they could
find it, but I would have took better care of it.
Now, le’s go to camp an’ eat some of the grub
that the ole woman helped herself to in Rube’s
cabin. Jake, I’ll let you off till to-morrer, an’
I won’t tech you at all if we find the money
an’ guns in Bigden’s camp; but if we don’t
find ’em I’ll have to do a pap’s dooty by you.”
Jake, glad to have even a short respite, made
no reply, but he did some rapid thinking.
Now it so happened that Tom and his
cousins were not at home when Matt Coyle and
his young allies visited their camp on the following
day. They had gone to Indian Lake
after their mail. Contrary to their usual custom
.bn 287.png
.pn +1
they all went, each one of the party
declaring, with some emphasis, that he was
sick and tired of acting as camp-keeper, while
his companions were off somewhere enjoying
themselves, and wouldn’t do it any more
because it was not necessary. They could
take their most valuable things with them in
their canoes and the rest could be concealed.
The result of this arrangement was that when
the squatter and his boys found the camp they
found nothing else.
This was the day that Joe Wayring and his
chums arrived at Indian Lake, and Tom and
his friends found them standing on the beach,
talking with Mr. Swan, as I have recorded.
After exchanging a few common-place remarks
with the new-comers, Tom kept on toward the
hotel.
“I see Joe has brought his canvas canoe
back with him,” observed Tom. “If Matt
Coyle knew it how long do you think it would
be before he would manage to steal it again?”
“I hope you won’t put him up to it,” said
Loren. “You once got yourself into a bad
scrape by doing that, and it was more by good
.bn 288.png
.pn +1
luck than good management that you wriggled
out of it.”
“I haven’t forgotten it,” replied Tom, with
a light laugh. “I assure you that I shall have
no more suggestions to make to Matt Coyle;
but I do wish he could make things so hot for
Wayring and his party that they couldn’t
stay here. They haven’t forgotten how to be
mean, have they? They wouldn’t tell us
where they were going to find trout-fishing, so
we will watch and find out for ourselves.”
When Tom’s letters, which came addressed
to the care of the Sportsman’s Home, were
handed out he found that one of them contained
a request for his immediate return to
Mount Airy. Some of his New London friends
were at his father’s house, and if Tom and his
cousins wished to see them they had better
come home without delay.
“Well, I’d as soon go to-morrow as next
day, for I am tired of life in the woods,” said
Tom. “If we had only brought our blankets
and provisions along, we could have made
a start from here; but as we didn’t do it some
one will have to go to camp for them. It
.bn 289.png
.pn +1
won’t be necessary for all to go, so I propose
that we draw lots to see who goes and who
stays.”
Without waiting to hear from the others on
the subject, Tom arranged three sticks of different
lengths in his closed hands, saying, as he
held them out to Loren,
“The one who gets the shortest stick is
elected.”
Loren and Ralph made selection, and Tom
was left with the shortest stick in his hand.
Of course he was mad about it. He always
was when he was beaten.
.bn 290.png
.pn +1
.sp 4
.h2
CHAPTER XIII. | JOE WAYRING’S PLUCK.
.sp 2
Sometimes there is more in drawing lots
than those who take part in it imagine,
and so it proved in this instance. If Ralph or
Loren had drawn the shortest stick, some
things that I have yet to tell of never would
have happened.
“I’m elected,” said Tom, spitefully, “but
I’ll stand by the agreement. I have plenty of
time to go down to camp and return before
dark, so I will wait and see what Wayring is
going to do.”
“Do you want to go with him?” inquired
Ralph.
“How can I when we are going home in the
morning?”
“Then what difference does it make to you
where Wayring goes?”
“I don’t know that it makes any difference.
I simply wish to satisfy my curiosity.”
.bn 291.png
.pn +1
It did not take many minutes to do that.
After a little more conversation with Mr. Swan
Joe came toward the storehouse, in front of
whose open door Tom and his cousins were
standing. There they met Morris, the guide,
who cautioned them against quarreling with
their compass in case they found themselves
bewildered in the unbroken wilderness through
which they must pass in order to reach No-Man’s
Pond. When Joe and his chums came
out of the store with their loaded camp-baskets
on their back, Morris also came out and accosted
Tom.
“This is the first chance I have had to thank
you young gentlemen for your generosity,” said
he. “Mr. Hanson has given me half the reward
you earned by restoring those guns and
which you did not claim.”
“You are very welcome, I am sure,” answered
Tom. “Were you with the party that
found Wayring’s canoe? If you had looked
a little further you might have found the guns,
too. How about that money? Heard any
thing of it lately?”
“Not so very,” replied the guide. “All we
.bn 292.png
.pn +1
know is, that Jake Coyle cheated the robbers
out of it very neatly, hid it somewhere, and
then took himself off. It is over on your side
of the lake; we are sure of that. You seem to
be lucky, so why don’t you hunt it up and claim
the six hundred?”
“If you men who know every foot of the
woods can’t find it, we wouldn’t stand much
of a show,” said Ralph. “Do you know
where Wayring and his cronies have started
for? I see that they have left their skiff behind
and that Mr. Swan is taking care of it.”
“They’re bound to catch some legal trout
before they go home, and are going to No-Man’s
Pond after them. That’s twelve miles
from here, and through the thickest woods
any body ever heard of. They’ll catch fish,
but, as I told them, they will have a time getting
there.”
Tom’s curiosity was satisfied now, and, as
there was nothing more to detain him at the
lake, he was ready to undertake the disagreeable
duty to which he had been “elected.”
The trip to and from the camp was disagreeable
only because Tom did not want to make
.bn 293.png
.pn +1
it just then. He would have preferred to stay
and seek an introduction to some of the pretty
girls who had been registered at the hotel
since his last visit, and who were now in full
possession of the lawn tennis court.
When Tom reached the grove in which he
and his cousins had spent their two weeks
outing, an unpleasant surprise awaited him.
He saw nothing suspicious about the camp;
indeed he did not look for it; but in less than
half a minute after he beached his canoe and
disembarked he was surrounded by Matt
Coyle and his boys, who glared savagely at
him and brandished switches over his head.
“Well, sir, we’ve ketched one of ye,” said
Matt, laying hold of Tom’s collar. “Now will
you own up or won’t you?”
With a quick jerk Tom freed himself from
the squatter’s grasp and turned and faced him.
He was so bold and defiant that Matt quailed
before him.
“What have you to say to me?” demanded
Tom, with flashing eyes. “Keep your distance
if you expect me to talk to you. I was in hopes
I had seen the last of you.”
.bn 294.png
.pn +1
“Well, you see you ain’t, don’t you?”
answered the squatter, calling all his courage
to his aid. “You stole them two guns of me
an’ them six thousand dollars besides. We’ve
come after ’em, an’ we’re goin’ to have ’em,
too.”
“I haven’t seen your guns or your money,
either,” replied Tom. “Who told you I
had?”
“Nobody,” said Matt, who never could take
time to think when he was excited or angry.
“We jest suspicion you.”
“Then go and ‘suspicion’ somebody else.
You are wide of the mark. I know you have
lost the guns, for Swan found them when he
found the canoe. Morris told me a little while
ago that Hanson had paid him part of the
reward. But I didn’t know about the money.
Here’s Jake; Why don’t you make him tell
where it is? Every body knows that he hid
it—”
“Yes; but it ain’t there now,” shouted
Matt. “It’s been took outen the place where
he left it, an’ none of us don’t know nothin’
about it.”
.bn 295.png
.pn +1
What evil genius put it into Tom’s head to
say, “I know where it is?”
“That’s what we suspicioned all along, an’
that’s what brung us here,” exclaimed the
squatter, shaking his switch at the boy, while
Sam’s face grew as white as a sheet. He
recoiled a step or two and looked anxiously at
Tom.
“But I haven’t got it and never had,” continued
the latter. “Do you know where No-Man’s
Pond is? Well, if you will go there,
you will find your old friend Wayring and his
party; and they’ve got your money.”
“Why—why, how did they come by it?”
stammered Matt.
“How do you suppose I know? They probably
found it where Jake hid it. I don’t know
of any other way they could get it.”
“But they ain’t been here long enough to do
much runnin’ around,” Matt reminded him.
“They have been here three days, and that’s
long enough for them to cover a good many
miles in that fast-going skiff of theirs.”
“But we’ve been right there at the cove all
the time, an’ they couldn’t have come snoopin’
.bn 296.png
.pn +1
around without us hearin’ them,” said Matt,
who hardly knew whether he stood on his
head or his feet. “What took ’em so far up
the creek, an’ how did they know where the
money was hid?”
“I don’t know any thing about that. I
simply tell you that I saw those two valises in
Joe Wayring’s camp-basket to-day, and that
you will never handle a dollar of it.”
“Why, they’re wusser’n thieves theirselves.
Do you reckon they took it to No-Man’s Pond
with ’em?”
“They certainly did not leave it at the
hotel,” replied Tom. “Perhaps they don’t
mean to go to No-Man’s Pond at all. They
may be striking for Irvington, for all I know,
intending to claim the reward when they give
up the money.”
“They shan’t never get there,” yelled Matt,
who believed every word of this ridiculous
story. “I wish we was on t’other side of the
lake.”
“The only way you can get there is to go
down to the outlet and ask some of your friends
living there to set you across,” replied Tom;
.bn 297.png
.pn +1
and as he spoke he stepped up to an evergreen,
pressed the thick branches down with both
hands, and took from its place of concealment
a roll of blankets. From other trees he took
more blankets, a lot of tin dishes, and provisions
enough to last a small party of moderate
eaters a week or more. Matt and his hungry
family could, no doubt, have made way with
them in a single day. They watched the boy’s
movements with the keenest interest. They
had ransacked every hole and corner of the
grove before Tom came, overturning logs and
throwing leaves aside, but their hour’s work
had not been rewarded by so much as a can of
beans. They were as surprised as children are
the first time they see a magician take money
out of a borrowed hat.
“That bangs me,” said Matt.
“I don’t suppose I should have found any
of these things if you had thought to look up
instead of down,” replied Tom.
“I’d like mighty well to have the grub,”
was the squatter’s answer. “We don’t see
nothin’ good to eat from one year’s end to
another’s.”
.bn 298.png
.pn +1
To Matt’s great surprise and joy Tom said—
“You may have the grub. I can get more
at the hotel. There is an old blanket that you
can have to wrap it up in. Now look here:
Are you going to follow Wayring to No-Man’s
Pond?”
“You’re mighty right, I am,” said Matt,
emphatically.
“I don’t know whether or not you will find
him there,” Tom went on. “But if you do
don’t mention my name. Don’t let him even
suspect that you have seen me this vacation.
Don’t refer to me in any way; do you
hear?”
“Do you reckon I’ve got a pair of ears?”
“I reckon you have; and I can see for myself
that they are big enough for two men. If
I were in your place, I would dig out of this
country and never come back.”
“I’ve been thinkin’ of doin’ it,” said Matt.
“The whole region is in arms against you,
and it is a mystery to me how you have kept
out of the clutches of the law as long as you
have. But if they don’t catch you before they
will surely catch you when the first snow
.bn 299.png
.pn +1
comes. Mark that. They will track you
down as they would a mink.”
“Don’t I know that?” exclaimed Matt,
growing red in the face with anger. “When
the snow comes we’ll have to stick clost to
camp, for if we go out we shall leave a trail
that can be easy follered. But what’ll we do
when our grub is all gone?”
“That’s your lookout and not mine,” said
Tom, shrugging his shoulders. “Go off somewhere.
Find a strange place where you are
not known, and then you can go and come
without fear of being tracked down.”
So saying Tom tossed the blankets into his
canoe, stepped in himself and shoved away
from the beach, leaving three astonished,
alarmed, and angry persons behind. If Sam
Coyle had been alone there would have been
strange scenes enacted in the grove, for Sam
was pretty near frantic. Like his father, he
believed the story that Tom Bigden had cooked
up on the spur of the moment, and from that
time forward he was one of Joe Wayring’s most
implacable foes. As for Matt, he was utterly
bewildered—stunned. Once again he told himself
.bn 300.png
.pn +1
that there was something wrong somewhere.
Cunning as he had showed himself to
be in outwitting the guides and officers of the
law, he never parted with Tom Bigden without
feeling that the boy had got the better of him
in some way. Jake Coyle was the frightened
one of the party. His father had promised him
a terrible beating, which, upon reflection, he
had decided to postpone until he could learn
whether or not the six thousand dollars were
concealed in Tom Bigden’s camp. Would the
whipping be forthcoming now that the money
had not been found? Having had a good
night’s sleep and something nourishing to eat,
Jake was stronger and more courageous than
he had been the day before, and he made up
his mind that he wouldn’t be whipped at all.
He had outrun his clumsy father more than
once, and was sure he could do it again. Matt
must have been thinking about this very thing,
for he said, as he spread the blanket upon the
ground and began tossing the provisions into
it—
“If I done a pap’s dooty by you, Jakey, I’d
larrup you good fashion to pay you for hidin’
.bn 301.png
.pn +1
that there money where Joe Wayring an’ his
friends could find it; but I’ll let you off agin
for a little while. We’ll put as straight for
No-Man’s Pond as we can go, an’ if I find that
Joe’s got the money I won’t do nothin’ to you;
me an’ you will be friends like we’ve always
been. But if he ain’t got it, or if he’s hid it
where we can’t find it, then there’ll be such a
row betwixt me an’ you that the folks up to
Injun Lake will think there’s a harrycane got
loose in the woods.”
Jake drew a long breath of relief, but Sam
wanted to yell. The latter was strongly opposed
to going to No-Man’s Pond. His great
desire was to return to camp, separate himself
from the rest of the family as soon as he
could, and look into the tree in which he had
concealed the money. Somehow he could not
bring himself to believe that it had been found
and carried off.
“Say, pap, I wouldn’t go acrost the lake
if I was you,” Sam ventured to say. “So
long’s we stay over yer we’re safe, ’cause
the guides can’t get to us without our bein’
knowin’ to it; but if we go to trampin’
.bn 302.png
.pn +1
through woods that we are liable to get lost
in they may jump down on us afore we can
wink twice.”
“No they won’t,” said Matt, confidently.
“I’m too ole a coon to be ketched that a-way.
Leastwise I ain’t a-goin’ to let them six
thousand go without makin’ the best kind of
a fight for ’em.”
“But somebody oughter go to camp an’ tell
mam where we’re goin’,” Sam insisted.
“She’ll be scared if we don’t show up by
the time it comes dark. I’d jest as soon go
as not, and I’ll jine you agin at the outlet.”
“Sam, what’s the matter of you?” exclaimed
Matt. “You always was sich a
coward you would go hungry before you
would sneak out of nights an’ steal grub for
us to eat; but you’ve got to stand up to the
rack this time, I bet you. I need your help;
an’ if I see you makin’ the least sign of
holdin’ back I’ll give you the twin brother to
the lickin’ I promised Jake.”
That was what Sam was afraid of, and it
was the only thing that kept him from running
off and making the best of his way to the
.bn 303.png
.pn +1
tree in which he had hidden the money. Until
he had satisfied himself that it was safe he
could neither eat nor sleep.
Having tied the provisions up in as small a
compass as possible, Matt raised the bundle
to his shoulder, picked up his rifle, and set out
at a rapid pace for the outlet, Jake and Sam
following close behind. They were ferried
across by one of the vagabonds who had given
the superintendent of the hatchery so much
trouble, and who expressed the greatest surprise
and pleasure at meeting them. But Matt
was not deceived by his friendly speech. He
knew that the man would have made a prisoner
of him in a minute if he had possessed
the power.
“I never thought to set eyes on you again,”
was the way in which he welcomed Matt and
his boys. “You’ve kept yourselves tol’able
close since Swan burned your camp, ain’t you?
An’ they do say that Jakey has made six
thousand dollars clean cash outen that Irvin’ton
bank robbery. Course I’ll set you acrost.
Goin’ to change your quarters, be you? Where
do you reckon you’ll bring up?”
.bn 304.png
.pn +1
“New London,” replied Matt, readily.
“From there we’ll take a boat to some place
on the Sound where they want wood-choppers,
an’ then we’ll settle down an’ go to work.”
“But the ole woman ain’t with you.”
“She’s goin’ cross lots, ’cause she didn’t
think she could stand the long tramp that me
and the boys are goin’ to take. Yes; we’re
goin’ to hide ourselves durin’ the winter, an’
when spring comes mebbe we’ll come too.
They’ll forget all about us by that time.”
“Well, I hope the constables won’t foller
you through the woods.”
“It wouldn’t be healthy for any body to do
that,” replied Matt, looking sharply at the
man with his little black eyes. “A feller who
can hit a squirrel’s head at every shot can
throw a bullet middlin’ clost to a mark the
bigness of a constable.”
This was a threat, and the man who ferried
them across the outlet took it as such. As he
was too timid as well as too indolent to take
any steps that would lead to the squatter’s apprehension,
he contented himself by going
back to his cabin, smoking a pipe, and wishing
.bn 305.png
.pn +1
he had the reward that had been put upon
Matt’s head.
The pursuers had lost a good deal of time in
going from Tom Bigden’s camp to the outlet,
but they made up for it by the fast traveling
they did after they were set across. If Matt
had not missed his way, he might have come
up with Joe that night. As it was, he and his
boys went into camp about three miles from
the spring-hole. During their journey they
came near showing themselves to a couple of
individuals who passed through the woods a
hundred yards in advance, heading toward
Indian Lake; but Matt, always on the watch,
dropped in time to avoid discovery, and the
boys touched the ground almost as soon as he
did.
“Who be they?” whispered the squatter,
peering through the bushes in the vain effort
to obtain a view of the strangers’ faces.
“They’re them two fellers that always runs
with Joe Wayring,” answered Jake.
“Sure?” asked Matt.
“Sure’s I can be without seein’ ’em closter.”
“That’s who they be, pap,” said Sam. “I
.bn 306.png
.pn +1
know, ’cause they’ve got the same kind of
clothes and the same kind of hats on ’em.”
Sam and Jake were deceived by the hunting
suits worn by the strangers. The latter were a
couple of sportsmen who had made a short excursion
into the woods without a guide, and
were now on their way to their hotel. Matt
took a minute or two in which to think over
the situation.
“Look sharp,” said he, in an excited
whisper, “an’ see if they have got camp-baskets
onto their backs or grip-sacks in their
hands. If they have, we’ll bounce ’em
quicker.”
“They ain’t got nary thing in their hands
but jest fish-poles,” answered Sam. “I can
see ’em plain. The things they’ve got on
their backs is knapsacks.”
“Then they must have left Joe Wayring an’
the money alone at the spring-hole,” chuckled
Matt. “They can’t go to Injun Lake an’ turn
around and come back before the middle of
forenoon to-morrer, an’ by the time they see
No-Man’s Pond again we’ll be through with
our business. I tell you things is beginnin’ to
.bn 307.png
.pn +1
run my way onct more. Ain’t you sorry you
come, Sammy? We shall find Joe alone at the
pond, and it’ll be the easiest thing in the world
to make him trot out that money or tell where
he’s hid it.”
“But supposin’ he won’t do it?” said Jake.
“What’ll you do to him, pap?”
“We’ll tie him to a tree an’ thrash him so’t
he won’t never get over it,” said the squatter,
through his teeth. “That boy has put me to
a sight of trouble ever sense I first heard of
him, an’ now I’m goin’ to take my satisfaction
outen him. We’ll make him ax our parding
an’ acknowledge that we’re just as good as he
is, even if we ain’t got no good clothes to
wear.”
“An’ when you get through I’ll take a
hand, an’ pay him for the whack he give me
in the face with your paddle,” chimed in Jake.
“An’ I’ll pay him for—for—bein’ so mean
to all of us,” said Sam.
He came near betraying himself that time.
What he was about to say was that he would
pay Joe Wayring for stealing the money.
“You can do jest what you please with him,
.bn 308.png
.pn +1
an’ I won’t say a word agin it,” answered the
squatter. “The way them rich folks has
always run over us ain’t to be put up with no
longer.”
Pursuers and pursued slept soundly within
three miles of one another that night, but the
morning’s sun found them all astir. While
Joe and his companions were working like
beavers on their bark shanty, Matt Coyle was
wasting his time in searching for the portage
that led from Indian Lake to No-Man’s Pond.
He passed the best part of the day in recovering
his bearings, and the afternoon was far
spent when Jake laid his hand on his arm and
pointed silently through the bushes ahead of
him. Matt looked, and saw the smoke of a
camp-fire curling up toward the tree-tops. He
listened, but no sound came to his ears to indicate
that the camp was occupied. Arthur and
Roy had gone in the canvas canoe to explore
the spring-hole and Joe was resting after his
work, thinking the while of almost every
thing and every body except Matt Coyle.
“I don’t reckon he’s there, pap,” said Jake
in a cautious whisper.
.bn 309.png
.pn +1
“He’s there or thereabouts,” was Matt’s reply.
“Mebbe he’s went out on the pond to
ketch some trout for his supper. If he has,
we’ll be in time to help him eat ’em, won’t we?
Jakey, you crawl up, careful like, an’ take a
peep at things. Me an’ Sam’ll stay here till
you come back.”
Matt never went into danger himself if he
could help it, but always sent Jake; and the
boy had become so accustomed to it that he
obeyed this order without the least hesitation.
He crept away on his hands and knees, and at
the end of a quarter of an hour returned with
a most gratifying report.
“Joe’s there, an’ he’s all alone,” whispered
Jake. “He’s layin’ under a tree an’ acts like
he’s asleep.”
“So much the better for us,” replied Matt,
gleefully rubbing his hands together. “That
money is our’n. Now, Jakey, you go that-a-way;
Sam, you go this way; an’ I’ll keep in
the middle. In that way we shall have him
surrounded an’ he can’t give us the slip.
When you hear me whistle like a quail, jump
up an’ grab him.”
.bn 310.png
.pn +1
“But, pap, he’s got a gun,” said Jake,
apprehensively. “I seen it layin’ on the
ground clost to him.”
“What of it?” Matt demanded, in angry
tones. “That’s the very reason I want you to
grab him; so’s he won’t have time to use his gun.
Now, then, here we go, quiet like, an’ still.”
The three moved off so silently that Joe
Wayring would not have heard them if he had
been awake and listening for their .
They came up on each side of the camp, cutting
off every avenue of escape, and at the signal
agreed upon made a simultaneous rush.
Before Joe could open his eyes he was powerless,
for Matt Coyle had seized both his hands,
crossed them upon his breast, and pinned
them there with a vise-like grasp.
“It’s come our turn to boss things,” said
the squatter, returning Joe’s astonished look
with an angry scowl. “We’ll learn you to
drive us outen Mount Airy an’ tear our house
down jest’ cause we’re poor folks an’ ain’t got
no good clothes to wear. Jakey, you an’ Sam
look around an’ find a rope or something to
tie him with.”
.bn 311.png
.pn +1
“What are you going to do?” asked Joe,
when he found his tongue.
“That depends on yourself,” answered Matt.
“You can get off without a scratch if you will
do jest what I tell you; but if you don’t it
will be wuss for you. Where is it?”
“Where’s what?” said Joe, innocently.
“Now jest listen at the blockhead!”
exclaimed Matt. “You don’t know what I
mean, don’t you? I mean the money you
stole from us. The money, you varmint.”
And whenever he said “money” he jammed
Joe’s hands down upon his breast with terrific
force. “The money, I say. Where
is it?”
“All the money I have is in my pocket,”
replied Joe. “If you want it, I can’t hinder
you from taking it.” He spoke with difficulty,
for Matt’s furious lunges had nearly
knocked the breath out of his body.
“Whoop!” yelled the squatter. “Listen
at you! I don’t want the money that’s into
your pocket. I want what was stole from the
bank. It b’longs to me, an’ I’m goin’ to have
it. Where is it, I tell you.”
.bn 312.png
.pn +1
“I don’t know the first thing about it. I
never saw it.”
“Mebbe you’ll think different before we get
through with you,” said Matt; “found the
rope, have you, Jakey? All right. Stand by
to tie his hands when I tell you; an’, Sam, you
pull off his blue shirt. We won’t fool with
him no longer.”
So saying the squatter arose to his feet, pulling
Joe up with him. In a few minutes more
the boy was standing with his face to a tree,
and his hands and feet were fastened to it. But
the work was not accomplished without a
terrific struggle, I assure you. Joe Wayring
fought desperately, and during the melee Jake
was floored by a neat left-hander in the jaw,
and Sam received a kick that doubled him up
in short order. Of course this vigorous treatment
added to their fury, but Matt was disposed
to be hilarious over it.
“Well, then, what made you hide the money
where he could find it, if you didn’t want to
get a whack from his fist?” said he. “If you
had brung it straight to me, like you oughter
done, Joe never would a hit you.”
.bn 313.png
.pn +1
“That makes another thing that I’ve got to
pay him for,” groaned Jake. “Hurry up an’
get through with him, pap, ’cause I want to
get at him.”
“Then go an’ cut some good tough hickories,
both of you. They’ll be back in a few minutes,”
said Matt, as the boys took their knives from
their pockets and disappeared from view, “an’
before they come, you had better make up
your mind to tell me what you have done
with that money. I’ve got all the proof I want
that it was seed in your camp-basket yesterday.”
“Who told you so?” inquired Joe.
“I ain’t namin’ no names,” replied Matt;
and then, for the first time, it occurred to
him that if the valises were in Joe’s camp-basket
yesterday they might be there yet, and he
at once proceeded to satisfy himself on that
point. The contents of all the baskets were
quickly thrown out upon the ground, but the
valises were not brought to light.
“I done that jest ’cause I happened to think
of it, an’ not ’cause I expected to find the
money,” Matt exclaimed. “I knowed you
.bn 314.png
.pn +1
would hide it as soon as you got here. The
boys is comin’. They’d like amazin’ well to
larrup you on your bare back, an’ they will
do it too; we’ll all do it, if you don’t quit
bein’ so pig-headed an’ tell us right where we
can go an’ find that money. Speak quick.
Will you do it?”
“I tell you I don’t know any thing about
it,” replied Joe, “and you can’t make me say
any thing else. If any body told you a different
story, which I don’t believe, he fooled you.
That’s all I’ve got to say.”
Just then Jake and Sam came out of the
bushes with their hands full of switches.
.bn 315.png
.pn +1
.sp 4
.h2
CHAPTER XIV. | THE GUIDE “SURROUNDS” MATT‘S CAMP.
.sp 2
“How do you like the looks of them?”
said Matt Coyle, picking up one of
the switches and flourishing it before Joe’s
face. “It’s hickory an’ it’ll cut. Whew! I
don’t like to think how it will cut when it’s
laid on good and strong. Now, then, where
is it? You see that we are in dead ’arnest, I
reckon, don’t you? What have you done with
it?”
It was at this juncture that the canvas canoe
carrying Roy Sheldon and Arthur Hastings
came around the point in full view of the camp.
The boys were so surprised at what they saw
before them that for a minute or two they
were incapable of action. They were as
motionless as so many sticks of wood; and,
although their blood boiled with indignation
when they saw Jake so unmercifully beaten,
.bn 316.png
.pn +1
they never said a word. But, when Matt drew
back as if he were about to strike Joe with
the switch he held in his hand, they had life
enough in them.
“Hold on there! If you touch that boy I
will put more holes through you than you ever
saw in a skimmer,” shouted Arthur, as he
raised his gun to his shoulder; and the squatter’s
triumph was cut short.
“This is an outrage that shall not be over-looked,”
said Roy, plunging his paddle into
the water and sending the canvas canoe rapidly
toward the beach. “Keep him covered, Art,
so that he can’t escape, and we’ll march the
whole caboodle of them to Indian Lake.”
Before the words had fairly left Roy’s lips
Arthur found, to his intense amazement, that
he was pointing his gun at the bushes, instead
of covering Matt Coyle’s head. The squatter
and his boys had dropped to the ground, and
that was the last that was seen of them. If
three trap-doors had opened beneath their feet,
they could not have disappeared with more
astonishing and bewildering celerity. The
boys did not wait to beach the canoe but
.bn 317.png
.pn +1
jumped overboard, as soon as they could see
bottom, and rushed to Joe’s relief.
“Who, what—how—what’s the meaning of
this?” stammered Roy, drawing his knife
across the rope that held the prisoner’s hands,
while Arthur severed the one with which his
feet were confined. “How came those vagabonds
up here, and what was it that Tom Bigden
told them about money?”
Joe Wayring stretched his arms and briefly
explained.
“You came just in time, boys,” said he, in
conclusion. “Did you see Jake’s face when
Matt got through beating him? That was a
contemptible thing for Matt to do, and he
ought to be punished for it.”
“Your back would have looked worse than
that if we had delayed our coming a few minutes
longer,” said Roy. “How did you feel
when Matt told you that he had seen Art and
me putting for the lake as fast as we could
go?”
“I didn’t pay the least attention to it, for I
thought he said it to frighten me. It seems
that Jake has lost track of the money that was
.bn 318.png
.pn +1
stolen from the Irvington bank; but if Tom
Bigden said he had seen it in my camp-basket,
I don’t see what induced him to do it.”
“What was it that induced him to tell Matt
to steal your canoe?” asked Arthur.
“I don’t know that he did. I only think
so from what I have heard. Now, fellows,”
said Joe calmly, but with determination, “my
fishing is ended for a while, and I am going on
the war-path. I’ll see whether or not I am to
be tormented in this way by people who can
not truthfully say that I ever did the first
thing to injure them.”
“Count us in,” said Arthur. “I wish the
portage was clear so that we could start for
the lake at once; but I am afraid to try it in
the dark.”
“We mustn’t try it in the dark. We’d get
lost before we had gone a hundred yards,”
said Roy. “We’ll make an early start in the
morning. I would give something handsome
if I knew just how this thing stands, and how
Matt Coyle found out that we were camping
here. I wonder what Tom will have to say for
himself when the matter is brought into court.”
.bn 319.png
.pn +1
“I can’t believe that he had any thing to
do with it,” answered Joe. “If he has half
the sense I give him credit for, he must see
that he would sooner or later bring himself
into trouble by acting as Matt Coyle’s counselor.”
“He’s got sense enough; no one disputes
that,” said Roy. “But I tell you he is at the
bottom of this trouble. Matt and his boys
knew what they were doing when they crossed
to this side of the lake and came straight to
No-Man’s Pond.”
“That’s what I say,” chimed in Arthur.
“Well,” replied Joe, “I shall need better
evidence than a vagabond’s unsupported word
before I will believe that Tom Bigden is to
blame for any thing that has happened to me
to-day. I don’t doubt that his will is good
enough; but he would be afraid to put himself
into the power of such a fellow as Matt
Coyle. At any rate I’ll not make trouble for
him if I can help it; but I’ll never rest easy
till Matt’s whole tribe has been arrested or
driven so far out of the country that they
can’t get back in a hurry.”
.bn 320.png
.pn +1
“This is what we get by coming into the
woods without our body-guard,” said Arthur.
“If Jim had been here Matt could not have
stolen a march on you as easily as he did.”
I believe I forgot to tell you that Jim,
Arthur Hastings’s little spaniel, was not with
the boys this trip. A few days prior to his
master’s departure for Indian Lake he managed
to get run over by a loaded wagon, and
Arthur had left him at home under the doctor’s
care. Jim hated the squatter and his
kind most cordially, and would certainly have
given the alarm the moment they came within
scenting distance of the camp.
That night the boys did not sleep a great
while at a time. Not an hour passed that I
did not see one of them punching up the fire
or walking around the shanty with his gun in
his hands. But they were not disturbed.
Matt Coyle had seen enough of Arthur Hastings
and his double-barrel for one while, and
if he was anywhere in the neighborhood he
did not show himself. When day broke Joe
Wayring and his friends did not linger to take
a dip in the pond or run races along the beach,
.bn 321.png
.pn +1
but ate a hastily prepared breakfast, packed
their camp-baskets, and set out for the lake.
They held a straight course for it, but the
traveling was so difficult that it was high noon
before they got there. The first man they saw
was Mr. Swan, who was just pushing away
from the landing in front of the Sportsman’s
Home. His canoe was loaded, and that proved
that he was going somewhere.
“Hallo!” was his cheery greeting. “Did
you get lost or run out of grub or what? I did
not expect to see you again for two or three
weeks.”
“We didn’t get lost, and we’ve lots of grub
left,” replied Arthur. “Where have you
started for, if it is a fair question?”
“I am going where the rest of the boys are
going, or gone; into the woods to find Matt
Coyle’s trail and Jake’s,” answered the guide.
“If I can’t find but one I’d a little rather have
Jake, because there’s a bigger reward offered
for him. There are a dozen or fifteen men in
the woods now, and there’ll be as many more
by this time to-morrow. Them vagabonds
can’t run loose any longer, for the boys are in
.bn 322.png
.pn +1
dead earnest now, and have broken up into
little parties instead of going in a body. In
that way they can cover more ground, and
stand a better chance of getting a big slice of
the reward. Of course you haven’t seen Coyle
lately?”
“Haven’t we, though?” exclaimed Roy.
“There’s where you are mistaken. Are you
in a very great hurry? Then come ashore and
I will tell you a little story.”
The guide smiled as he turned his canoe
toward the beach, but before Roy Sheldon had
talked to him five minutes the smile gave place
to a frown. He listened in the greatest amazement
to the boy’s brief and rapid narration of
the exciting incidents that had happened at
the spring-hole, said “I swan to man!” a good
many times, and when Roy ceased speaking
sat down on the ground right where he stood,
there being no log handy, to think the matter
over.
“Well, well! So Matt broke up your fishing
picnic and frightened you away from the
pond, did he?” said the guide, after a long
pause. “I don’t know as I blame you for
.bn 323.png
.pn +1
wanting to get back among folks. I’d be
scared too, if some fellers should tie me to a
tree and threaten to wallop me.”
“Matt broke up our fishing for the present,
but we want you to understand that he didn’t
scare us away from the pond,” said Arthur,
earnestly. “We are going to Irvington to
lodge a complaint against him, and as soon as
that has been done we intend to take a hand
in hunting him up.”
“You? You boys alone?” exclaimed the
guide.
“Yes; we three fellows alone, unless you
will go with us. But you mustn’t think we
are afraid of him. If he is such a terrible man,
what’s the reason he took to his heels the minute
he saw the muzzle of Art’s gun looking him
in the face?”
“Most any body would run under them circumstances
if he thought he had the ghost of
a chance,” replied Mr. Swan. “You had the
drop on him.”
“But we didn’t have the drop on him last
night when we were asleep, did we? If he was
so sure that money was in our camp, what’s
.bn 324.png
.pn +1
the reason he didn’t come and get it after
dark? He was afraid to try it.”
“Most likely he was,” answered the guide.
“Well, if you’re bound to go, I’d like to have
you with me so’t I can sorter keep an eye on
you. Let’s go and get your skiff. I put it in
one of the boathouses under cover.”
“But we want to make complaint against
Matt,” said Joe.
“Why not wait till he has been arrested for
stealing them guns and that canoe, and then
make it? You will save at least four days by
it, and by that time Matt may be took up and
you and me have no hand in it. We kinder
thought him and his crowd had skipped the
country, because we ain’t seen none of ’em
lately; but the boys will be surprised, and
mad too, when they hear what he done in your
camp.”
While the guide was talking in this way he
led the boys along the beach toward the boathouse
in which he had placed their skiff for
safekeeping. To put it into the water, take
the provisions out of the camp-baskets and
stow them in the lockers, ship the oars and
.bn 325.png
.pn +1
return to the place where Mr. Swan had left
his canoe, was but a few minutes’ work. When
the latter shoved off from the beach the two
boats moved side by side, I occupying my
usual place on the stern locker.
“There’s one question that has been running
in my mind ever since I heard your story, and
which I ain’t been able to answer yet,” observed
the guide, as the boys slackened their
pace so that the canoe could keep up. “What
made Matt Coyle think that you boys had the
money in your possession, and how did he
know where to find you? It looks to me as
though somebody had posted him in regard to
your movements, and if Tom Bigden had been
in your company since you came here I should
say that he was the chap. Do you suspicion
him?”
Arthur and Roy looked at Joe as if to say:
“What do you think of it now?” and the latter
replied:
“I don’t know whether to suspect him or
not.”
“Well, if Tom’s mixed up in it, it won’t
take long to find it out,” said the guide,
.bn 326.png
.pn +1
indifferently. “The minute Matt is brought
before the justice he’ll blab every thing he
knows.”
When Joe heard this he almost wished that
he had not been in such haste to declare that
he would never rest easy until Matt and his
family had been arrested or driven so far out
of the country that they wouldn’t get back in
a hurry. Joe was indignant, as he had reason
to be, but he was not vindictive.
“I’d rather Matt would get off scott free
than be the means of bringing Tom Bigden
into disgrace,” was his mental reflection. “If
I could help him out of the country I would
do it. But then, there’s the money. What’s
to be done about that? Do you suppose Jake
has really lost track of those six thousand
dollars?” he added, aloud.
“I am sure of it,” answered Roy, “What
put that thought into your head?”
“If he intended to share it with the members
of his family, what’s the reason he did not
take it to his father the minute he found it?”
asked Joe, in reply. “Every thing goes to
prove that Jake wants all the money, and if
.bn 327.png
.pn +1
he can make his father believe that he has lost
it of course he will not be expected to
divide.”
“Oh, you’re off the track,” said Arthur,
confidently. “If Jake had told Matt any
funny story like that, don’t you think the
beating he got up there at the spring-hole
would have brought the truth out of him?
What do you think about it, Mr. Swan?”
“I haven’t yet made up my mind,” replied
the guide. “This much I know. That money
is hidden somewhere in the woods, and it’s
going to be no fool of a job to find it.”
“Have you decided upon any plan of
action?”
“Well, yes. We might as well hunt for a
needle in a hay-stack as to go wandering about
through the timber looking for a couple of
grip-sacks, for I have been told that these
woods cover almost two thousand square miles
of ground. There must be some sort of system
about the search, or it won’t amount to
any thing. The rest of the boys are trying to
catch Matt and all his family, believing that if
they can do that they will get the money.
.bn 328.png
.pn +1
Perhaps they will, and perhaps they won’t. I
wasn’t going to do business that way. I intended
to find their camp the first thing I did,
and hang around it night and day till I got a
clew. If Jake knows where the money is,
he’ll have to go to it every little while to make
sure it is safe, won’t he?”
The boys all thought he would, and Joe
said:
“If I were in Jake’s place I would go to it
just once, and when I found it I’d take it and
leave the country. A brute of a father who
pounded me as Matt pounded Jake should
not see a cent of the money.”
“Mebbe that’s what Jake means to do,”
answered the guide. “I hope it is, and that we
will be in sight when he tries it; for it will be
no trouble at all for us to slip up and gobble
him and the money at the same time. That
would scare Matt, who would lose no time in
getting away from these woods.”
“That’s just what I hope he will do,” said
Joe, to himself. “Somehow I can’t bear the
thought of seeing him come into court to get a
Mount Airy boy into trouble.”
.bn 329.png
.pn +1
“I’ve often thought of it as a curious thing
that the stolen guns and your canvas canoe
should have been found in the same place,
and that place the cove where Matt’s camp
used to be,” said Mr. Swan, after a little
pause. “By putting this and that together, I
have come to the conclusion that Matt and his
family hang out near that cove, believing it to
be the safest place for them. I thought I
would go up there after dark and skirmish
around a bit. What do you think?”
“If that is what you have decided upon,
why, go ahead,” replied Arthur. “We shall
at least have the satisfaction of knowing that
we are busy, even if we don’t accomplish any
thing.”
“We don’t want to go near the cove until
after dark,” the guide went on. “We tried
that once, you know, but Matt got wind of
our coming and took himself safely off.”
A plan of operations having been decided
upon, the boys took Mr. Swan’s canoe in tow
and pulled for the lake with long and lusty
strokes. Shortly after twelve o’clock they
landed in a little grove to cook their dinner;
.bn 330.png
.pn +1
but, after they had taken a look at the heap of
ashes, potato skins, charred chunks, withered
hemlock boughs, fish-heads, bones,
and empty fruit and bean cans that were
scattered about, they told one another that
they would go farther and find a neater
place.
“This is the worst camp on the lake, isn’t
it?” said Roy. “The fellows who lived here
were either new hands at the business or else
they were a lazy lot.”
They were both. The grove was the site of
Tom Bigden’s old camp, and a nice looking spot
he and his cousins had made of it. But such
groves were plenty along the beach. Another
was quickly found, an excellent dinner was
prepared and leisurely eaten, and after Mr.
Swan had taken time to smoke a pipe the
party shoved off and headed toward the creek
that led to Matt Coyle’s old camp.
“Now, then,” said the guide, who thought
it time to assume direction of affairs, “we
don’t want any more loud talking. And be
careful how you let them oars rattle in the rowlocks.
A slight noise can be heard a long distance
.bn 331.png
.pn +1
in a quiet place like this, and Matt is
always listening.”
Having cast off the painter of his canoe, Mr.
Swan went on ahead, and the skiff followed
slowly in his wake. Mile after mile they
passed over in silence, all unconscious of the
fact that almost every thing they did was
observed by one who threaded his way cautiously
through the bushes abreast of them,
and who would have given a large sum of
money if he could have had one of their boats
at his disposal for a few minutes.
So well did Mr. Swan regulate his pace that
it was just dark when he and his young companions
arrived at the mouth of the little
stream which connected the creek with the
cove in which Matt enacted that neat piece of
strategy described by Fly-rod in his story.
Here he stopped and listened for a long time.
No sounds came from the woods to indicate
that the squatter and his family were occupying
their old camp; but that was no sign that
they were not there, and the guide proceeded
very cautiously. He did not attempt to force
his canoe into the stream, but made a landing
.bn 332.png
.pn +1
below it, and the skiff drew up alongside of
him.
“What’s the next thing on the programme?”
whispered Joe, lifting his oar out of the rowlock
and laying it carefully on the thwarts.
“Shall we all go in?”
“I reckon we might as well,” replied the
guide. “Why not?”
“You remember what happened the last
time we were here, do you not?” replied Joe.
“How Matt came around in our rear and threw
away our things and stole two of our boats?”
“It ain’t likely that I’ll ever forget it,”
said Mr. Swan, “nor how mad we all were to
see how completely he had outwitted us. But
he can’t do that this time, for we are not
going into the cove. We’ll leave the boats
here.”
“Matt Coyle isn’t within a dozen miles of
this place,” said Roy, decidedly. “He’s on
the other side of the lake.”
“That don’t signify,” answered Mr. Swan.
“There are plenty of vagabones at the outlet
who would set him across for the asking, and
it ain’t a very fur ways from there to this cove.
.bn 333.png
.pn +1
Now, if he is here, we’ll not give him a chance
to slip away from us like he did last time.
Yon know right where the camp was, don’t
you? Well, I’ll go off by myself and surround
it. At the end of twenty minutes, as near as
you can guess at it, creep up toward the place
you think I am, no matter whether you hear
from me or not. Spread out from the center
as you go, so as to come upon the camp from
all sides. If he isn’t there, we’ll find out
whether or not he has been there very lately,
and that will be something learned.”
Mr. Swan lingered a minute or two to give a
few additional instructions, and then moved
silently away through the darkness. The first
thing the boys did, when they found themselves
alone, was to secure their guns and
cartridge belts, and the second to draw the
bows of the skiff and canoe upon the bank so
that the current would not carry them away.
After that they struck a match to see what
time it was, and sat down to wait as patiently
as they could for the twenty minutes to pass
away.
“I hope Matt Coyle isn’t here,” said Joe,
.bn 334.png
.pn +1
suddenly. “Or if he is, I hope he will take
the alarm and make off before Mr. Swan gets
a sight of him.”
“Well, you are a pretty fellow,” said Roy,
with a slight accent of disgust in his tones.
“After what he has done to you, do you want
him to get off?”
“Yes, I do; and I can’t help it,” answered
Joe. “But it is not on his own account, I
assure you. To me there is something repugnant
in the thought that such a fellow as Matt
Coyle can get any body into trouble, especially
such a boy as Tom Bigden might be if he only
would. If Tom put it into his head to steal
my canoe, or if he told him that we had taken
the six thousand dollars with us to No-Man’s
Pond—why, fellows, just think what
a story that would be for him to tell in
court?”
“Well, could Tom blame any body but himself
if he did tell it?” demanded Arthur.
“He had no business to have so much to do
with that squatter. Where do you suppose
the money is, any way?”
“Did it never occur to you that some of the
.bn 335.png
.pn +1
vagabonds who live at the outlet might have
stumbled upon it?” asked Roy.
“Or that some other member of Matt’s
family, Sam for instance, might have found it
where Jake hid it?” chimed in Joe.
“That’s so,” exclaimed Arthur. “But if
Sam’s got it what is he going to do with it?
It would be little satisfaction to me to have so
much money in my possession unless I could
use some of it.”
“The twenty minutes are up,” said Joe,
examining the face of his watch by the light
of a match. “Mr. Swan has had time to
‘surround’ the camp, and we must be moving.
We must be careful, also, and not get out of
supporting distance of one another, for there
is no telling what we may run onto in the
dark.”
It was not without fear and trembling that
the boys began their advance upon the squatter’s
camp. They had given Mr. Swan to
understand that they were not afraid of Matt,
and they would have made their words good
if it had been daylight and they had been
standing on the defensive; but advancing upon
.bn 336.png
.pn +1
his supposed hiding-place in the dark was
something they had not bargained for. Matt
might be standing guard with a club in his
hand, ready to brain the first one who showed
himself.
“I declare, that’s just what he is doing.
There he is, standing by that fire.”
So thought Joe Wayring, who by good luck
happened to strike the well beaten path that
led through the evergreens from the cove to
the spot whereon the squatter’s miserable lean-to
had once stood. Having no bushes to
impede his progress, Joe crept rapidly forward
on his hands and knees without making the
slightest sound, and in a few moments came
within sight of a glowing bed of coals, with a
clearly defined pair of legs in front of it. A
second glance showed Joe that the legs belonged
to a man who loomed up wonderfully tall and
stout in the darkness, and that he held across
his breast something that looked like a bludgeon.
He was gazing in Joe’s direction, too,
and that was the way he would undoubtedly
run when he became aware that his enemies
were closing in upon him. What was to be
.bn 337.png
.pn +1
done now, and where were Mr. Swan and the
other boys?
“If he makes a charge he’ll run over me and
never know there was any thing in his path.
I’ll give him all the room he wants,” soliloquized
Joe; and, suiting the action to the
word, he got upon his feet and backed softly
into the bushes.
After standing a second or two in a listening
attitude, the man kicked the coals together
with his heavy boot, and threw upon them a
dry hemlock branch, which instantly blazed up,
revealing the guide’s honest face. Joe was
greatly relieved. “How you frightened me,”
said he, as he came down the path. “You
looked as big as a tree, and I thought you were
Matt Coyle, sure.”
“You can see for yourself that he or somebody
else has been here within a few hours,”
replied Mr. Swan, tossing another branch
upon the coals.
“Do the signs tell you any thing?”
“Haven’t seen any sign yet except this
smouldering fire. Call up the rest of the fellows
and we will go into camp back there at the
.bn 338.png
.pn +1
creek. In the morning we’ll take a look
around and see what we can see.”
Guided by an occasional word from Joe the
other two presently came up. By this time
the fire was burning brightly, and by the aid
of the light it gave they were enabled to
examine the ground about it. They found the
charred remains of the squatter’s lean-to, but
could not discover the first thing to give them
a clew to the identity of the person or persons
who built the fire. The guide was almost sure
it was not Matt Coyle, for Matt invariably left
some sort of rubbish behind him. Whoever
he was, he had not been gone more than half
an hour, for the coals had hardly ceased blazing
when Mr. Swan found them. They lingered
long enough to see the fire burn itself out and
then started for the creek, where a great
surprise awaited them.
.bn 339.png
.pn +1
.sp 4
.h2
CHAPTER XV. | ON THE RIGHT TRACK AT LAST.
.sp 2
A more astonished trio than Matt Coyle
and his boys were when they heard
Arthur Hastings’s voice, and looked up to find
the muzzle of his double-barrel pointed
straight at their heads, had never been seen on
the shores of No-Man’s Pond. They really believed
that they had seen Arthur and Roy in
the woods going toward Indian Lake, and when
they made a prisoner of Joe Wayring they
thought they held him at their mercy. But,
although Matt was surprised at the interruption,
he was not to be easily beaten. He
uttered a faint cry, which had more than once
sent his whole family scurrying into the bushes,
and in less time than it takes to write it he
and his boys were out of sight. They wormed
their way through the bushes with astonishing
celerity, and by the time Roy and Arthur
.bn 340.png
.pn +1
reached the shore and released the captive from
his bonds Matt and his allies were lying prone
behind a log a short distance away, with their
rifles pointed over it, waiting to be attacked.
“Jakey, you an’ Sam was certainly mistaken
when you said that the fellers we seen
goin’ through the woods was the same ones
that always went with Joe Wayring,” whispered
Matt. “If it was them, how did they
happen to come up in that there canvas canoe
the way they did? My luck has turned agin
me onct more, ain’t it?”
“That Bigden boy played a trick on you,”
said Jake. He passed his hand over his battered
face and could hardly repress a howl
when he saw that it was covered with blood.
“I told you I’d lick ye if we didn’t find the
money in Joe’s camp, didn’t I?” said his
father, fiercely. “Now I reckon you see that
I was in earnest, don’t you? If you had brung
me the money the minute you got hold of it, I
would have went halvers with you, an’ you
wouldn’t have had that lookin’ face, an’ I
wouldn’t have been put to so much trouble.
Next time bear in mind that your pap is boss
.bn 341.png
.pn +1
of this here house. You say that Bigden
boy played a trick onto me. I begin to suspicion
so myself; but, if he did, where’s the
money? Jakey, did you hide them grip-sacks
in that hole where you said you did?”
“Sure’s I live an’ breathe I did,” replied
Jake, edging away from his father when he
saw how savagely the latter scowled at him.
“It was there the last time I seen it; but I
don’t know where it is now.”
“What be we waitin’ here for?” interrupted
Sam. “Joe ain’t got the money, an’ why
don’t we go somewheres else an’ look for it?
Mam’ll be scared if we don’t come home purty
quick.”
“Where else shall we go an’ look for it?”
demanded the squatter.
“Why, down to—anywheres,” said Sam,
with some confusion.
“You had some place in your mind when
you spoke,” Matt insisted. “Down where?”
“Anywheres on the other side of the lake.
It ain’t never been brung over here, an’ I
didn’t think so none of the time.”
Very gradually it began to creep into Matt’s
.bn 342.png
.pn +1
head that Sam had not acted at all like himself
since their party left Tom Bigden’s camp
to go in pursuit of Joe Wayring. The boy had
been opposed to it from the first, and showed
great anxiety and impatience to return to camp
and relieve his mother’s suspense. How did
she know but that they had fallen into the
clutches of the law; and how was she going to
find out unless one of their number went home
to assure her that they were all safe and sound?
It wasn’t at all like Sam to express so much
concern for his mother’s comfort and peace of
mind, and why should he do it now, Matt
asked himself, unless he had some reason for
desiring to go back to the cove?
“An’ what should Sammy want to go back
there for, less’n it’s to look after something he’s
left behind?” soliloquized the squatter. “An’
what’s he left there if it ain’t them two—Whoop!
That’s it, sure’s you’re born.”
“What’s the matter of you, pap?” exclaimed
Sam.
Almost involuntarily Matt uttered the last
words aloud, and of course his boys heard
them and desired an explanation. Sam looked
.bn 343.png
.pn +1
frightened; but Jake’s face was so badly
wounded that no one could tell what its expression
was. Matt looked surprised, then
thoughtful, and finally replied:
“Yes, sir; that’s it. That Bigden boy done
sent us up here on a wild goose chase jest to
draw suspicion from himself. He is the one
that’s got the money, and he’s had it all the
time.”
“You’ve hit center, pap, sure’s you’re a foot
high,” exclaimed Sam. “I wondered why that
Bigden boy was so ready to tell us where the
money was, an’ now I know. Will we go home
now, pap?”
“We’ll start at onct, an’ by this time to-morrer
we’ll have the money an’ the Bigden
boy too. If he don’t tell us what he’s done
with it, we’ll tie him to a tree like we done
with Joe Wayring. He ain’t got Joe’s pluck,
Tom ain’t, sassy as he lets on to be, an’ when
he sees a hickory whistlin’ before his eyes
he’ll tell us all we want to know. I didn’t think
Tom would have the cheek to fool me that a-way
when he knows well enough that I’ve got
the upper hand of him.”
.bn 344.png
.pn +1
The squatter said this as if he was in earnest,
and as if he really thought he had got upon
the track of the money at last; but while he
talked he kept close watch of Sam’s face, and
saw enough there to satisfy him that his own
boy, and not Tom Bigden, was the one who
could tell him right where to look to find the
lost treasure.
“Well, what be we waitin’ here for?” repeated
Sam, who was impatient to be off.
“I kinder thought that mebbe them fellers
would make a rush on us soon’s they
turned Joe Wayring loose,” answered Matt,
“an’ I wanted to be ready for ’em. But I
don’t reckon they’re comin’, so we’ll go along.
Jakey, I didn’t lick you ’cause we didn’t find
the money in Joe’s camp, but to pay you for
not turnin’ it over to me when you found it.”
“Be you goin’ to look in Tom Bigden’s
camp for it?” inquired Jake.
“I be,” replied Matt, who had already determined
upon a very different course of
action.
“Well, you remember that Tom took away
his blankets an’ every thing else when we was
.bn 345.png
.pn +1
there, don’t you?” continued Jake. “That
looked to me as though he was goin’ somewheres
else to camp, or goin’ home. If you
don’t find him nor the money nuther, then
who you goin’ to lick?”
“Yon needn’t worry about that,” said the
squatter slowly, and in a tone which he meant
to be very impressive. “If I don’t find the
money the very first time tryin’, I’ll tumble
onto the feller who knows where it is; you
may be sure of that.”
Sam grew frightened again, while Jake shut
his teeth hard and said to himself:
“That means me. But he tumble
onto me agin, I bet you, ’cause when he gets
on t’other side the lake I won’t be within
reach of him. I’m goin’ to do something
that’ll make pap’s eyes bung out as big as
your fist when he hears of it. I ain’t goin’ to
be pounded for nothing, an’ that’s all about
it.”
“Yes,” continued Matt, who felt more confident
of success now than at any other time
during his search for the money. “I shall
make a go of it by this hour to-morrer; you
.bn 346.png
.pn +1
hear me? Jakey, you remember the old
blanket Tom Bigden give us that I used
fur a knapsack to carry our grub in, don’t you?
Well, I dropped it when we was getting’ ready
to make our rush on Joe’s camp. It’s up there
in the woods about two hundred yards from
here. Mind the place, don’t you? Well, go
an’ get it.”
“I’ll go,” said Jake to himself, “an’ it’ll
be the last arrant I go on for one while, I bet
you. What’s the use of me goin’ over on
t’other side of the lake, when the men I want
to see is on this side? I’ll go, but I won’t
never come back. Pap ain’t goin’ to find that
money, an’ he ain’t goin’ to give me another
lickin’ like he done to-day, nuther.”
If Matt could have seen and interpreted the
expression that Jake’s face wore as he crawled
away in obedience to this order, he might have
called him back and gone himself or sent Sam;
but he was too busy filling his pipe to notice
the boy, and besides it had never occurred to
him that he could drive any of his family to
rebellion. But he had done it, for Jake never
came back to him. He seized the blanket
.bn 347.png
.pn +1
when he found it, threw it over his shoulder,
and struck out for Indian Lake.
“He can go hungry for all I care,” muttered
Jake, halting now and then and looking back
to make sure he was not pursued. “He’ll go
hungry many a time this winter, if the law
don’t catch him, for that lazy Sam of our’n
wouldn’t dare show his head out of camp after
dark; so who’s goin’ to steal grub for him
to eat?”
Having determined upon this course, Jake
held to it with surprising resolution, and his
father and his brother waited long for his coming.
At last Matt became angry at his unaccountable
absence, but he never once suspected
Jake’s fidelity.
“Mebbe he’s gone an’ got himself ketched
by them fellers,” suggested Sam.
“More likely he’s gone an’ lost himself or
missed the place where I left the blanket,”
growled the squatter. “I do think we’d best
be lookin’ into the matter.”
“Well, go on, an’ I’ll stay here till you
come back,” said Sam, with suppressed eagerness.
.bn 348.png
.pn +1
“I don’t reckon that would be the best plan
in the world,” answered Matt, who was not to
be taken in by any such artifice. “Do you,
Sammy?”
“Then you stay an’ let me go.”
“I don’t think that would be the best thing
either, ’cause if you went alone them fellers
might jump outen their camp an’ ketch you.
We’ll both go, an’ then they can’t harm us,
an’ we won’t get lost, nuther.”
Sam was well enough acquainted with his
father to know that the latter had had his
suspicions aroused in some mysterious way,
and he had suddenly hit upon a plan to outwit
him. If he could separate himself from Matt
for just five minutes he would put for the outlet
at his best pace, induce one of the resident
vagabonds to set him across, and then he would
secure his treasure and go somewhere—anywhere—so
long as he could hold fast to the
money and be out of his father’s reach. Perhaps,
on reflection, he might decide to give it
up and claim the reward; but that was a
matter that could be settled at some future
time. Did the squatter suspect this little
.bn 349.png
.pn +1
game? Whether he did or not he nipped it
in the bud by giving Sam to understand that
wherever one went the other would go also,
and that there was to be no separation.
“You see, Sammy,” said Matt, as he led the
way toward the place where he had left the
blanket, “if me an’ you stick together we
won’t nuther get lost nor ketched, one or
t’other of which has most likely happened to
Jakey. ’Tain’t like him to stay away less’n
he’s got some excuse for it.”
“Aw! Jake ain’t ketched,” said Sam, who
knew that the only thing he could do was to
put a good face on the matter and bide his
time. “If he was, wouldn’t we have heard
him whoopin’? He’s lost; that’s what’s went
with Jake.”
“Well, if he is, he’s lost the grub as well as
himself, ’cause there’s right where I left the
blanket,” said Matt, pointing out the exact
spot. “He won’t stay lost, for Jakey’s a
master hand to find his way around in the
woods. He’ll put for the outlet, most likely,
an’ there’s where we will go, too. You toddle
on ahead an’ I’ll foller.”
.bn 350.png
.pn +1
This meant that the squatter was resolved to
keep Sam where he could see him, and the
latter was careful to do nothing out of the
ordinary. When it became too dark for them
to continue their journey they lighted a fire
and went supperless to bed, with nothing but
the leaves for a mattress and the spreading
branches of an evergreen for a covering. They
slept, too, for Sam thought it wasn’t worth
while to escape from his father’s control while
they were so near the outlet. He could not
get across before daylight, for the boats were
all on the other side, and, more than that, Sam
was too much of a coward to deliberately
undertake a two-mile tramp through a piece
of dark woods. It would be time enough for
him to make a move when he was on the same
side of the lake that the money was.
Father and son resumed their journey at the
first peep of day, and at breakfast time were
standing on the bank of the outlet below the
hatchery, signaling for a boat. The same
accommodating vagabond who had ferried
them across two days before responded to
their hail, and showed a desire to pry deeper
.bn 351.png
.pn +1
into their private affairs than Matt was willing
he should go.
“Jake’s gone off about his business, and if
the old woman ain’t left camp she’s there
yet,” growled the squatter, in reply to the
ferryman’s eager questions. “I’ve got some
things to tend to that I forgot about, an’ that’s
why I come back. No; we won’t go into your
house an’ get breakfast, but you can give us a
bite to eat as we go along if you’re a mind to.”
“Did you—you didn’t see any body lookin’
for you, I reckon?” said the ferryman at a
venture. “Well, that’s queer. I’ve heard that
there’s as many as a dozen or fifteen constables
an’ guides follerin’ of you an Jakey.”
“Which side the lake?” inquired Matt,
anxiously.
“This side—the one you’re jest leavin’.”
This was something that was in Matt’s favor,
but he little thought he had his friend the ferryman
to thank for it. The latter had hung
around the hatchery all the previous day, and
made it his business to put every party of officers
and guides who crossed the outlet on
Matt’s trail, first stipulating for a small share
.bn 352.png
.pn +1
of the reward in case the information he gave
them led to the squatter’s arrest. But he had
played squarely into Matt’s hands. The road
that led to his camp was clear, and all he had
to do was to keep a close watch upon Sam,
who, for some reason or other, showed an
almost uncontrollable desire to take to his
heels. At last Matt became satisfied that that
was just what the boy meant to do; and after
they had left the hatchery out of sight, and
were walking along the carry Indian file,
munching the bread and meat the ferryman
had given them, he came to the conclusion that
it was time for him to put into operation the
plan he had determined upon the day before.
Suddenly thrusting what was left of his
breakfast into his pocket, Matt took one long
step forward and laid hold of Sam’s collar.
As quick as thought the boy threw both arms
behind him and jumped. His object was to
leave his coat in his father’s grasp, and the
only thing that prevented him from doing it
was the fact that one of Matt’s long, muscular
fingers had, by the merest accident, caught
under the collar of Sam’s shirt. The collar
.bn 353.png
.pn +1
stood the strain, Matt’s finger was too strong
to be straightened out, and Sam was a prisoner.
“Aha!” said the squatter, looking into the
boy’s astonished face with grim good-humor.
“You didn’t look for your old pap to be so
cute, did you? Didn’t I give you fair warnin’
that a man who had spent the best years of
his life in dodgin’ guides an’ constables wasn’t
to be beat by his own boys? You’ve been
mighty cunnin’, you an’ Jakey have, but I’m
to the top of the heap now. See it, don’t
you?”
“What be you goin’ to do, pap?” inquired
Sam, when he saw his sire put his disengaged
hand into his pocket and draw forth the same
stout cord that had once been used to confine
Jake’s hands and feet. “I won’t run from you,
an’ I’ll show you where it is, sure.”
“Where what is?” demanded the squatter,
who wanted to be sure that he had got upon
the right track at last.
“Where the valises is—the money.”
“There now, you little snipe!” cried Matt,
drawing back his heavy hand as if he had half
.bn 354.png
.pn +1
a mind to let it fall with fall force upon the
boy’s unprotected face. “Oughtn’t I to lick
ye for makin’ me tramp twenty-four miles on
a wild goose chase after that money, when you
knowed where it was all the while? Dog-gone
it! I’ve a good notion—”
“What’s the use of r’arin’, pap?” interrupted
Sam. “You never offered to go
halvers with me, did you? That’s all I was
waitin’ for. You’ll get it now, so what’s the
use of gettin’ mad about it?”
“You’re right I’ll have it now,” said Matt,
as he proceeded to tie Sam’s hands behind his
back. “You was kalkerlatin’ to show me
where the money was soon’s I offered to go
halvers with you, was you? Then what did
you try to jump outen your jacket for when I
grabbed you?”
“’Cause I was afeared you’d lick me like
you did Jake before I got a chance to talk to
you. Don’t draw them ropes so tight. What
you tyin’ me for, anyway?”
“So’t you can’t run away an’ leave me,”
replied Matt. “I’ve seed the day when I
could ketch you before you’d went ten foot,
.bn 355.png
.pn +1
but I ain’t as young as I was then. You ain’t
done fair by me. You’ve fooled me all along,
you an’ Jakey have, ’an you might take it into
your head to show me the wrong place. If
you do, I won’t have to go fur to find you.
Now tell me true: Did Jake hide the money in
that there hole where he said he did?”
Sam replied that Jake had told a straight
story. He did hide the valises under the roots
of the fallen poplar, but he (Sam) had taken
them out and concealed them in another
place.
“There you be, tied hard an’ fast with one
end of the rope, an’ I’ll jest hold the other end
in my hand an’ be ready to jerk you flat if you
try to run,” said Matt, when he had finished
his task of confining Sam’s hands behind his
back. “Now put out at your best licks, and
go straight to the place where you hid them
grip-sacks. What had you made up your decision
to do with them six thousand?”
“I was goin’ halvers with you an’ mam an’
Jake,” began Sam.
“Aw! Shucks!” exclaimed Matt.
“An’ then I was goin’ to buy some good
.bn 356.png
.pn +1
clothes an’ things for myself. Now, pap,
you’re goin’ to go halvers with me, ain’t you?
An’ after you get it, you won’t lick me like
you done Jake, will you?”
“That’s a p’int that will take a heap of
studyin’ before I can say what I’m goin’ to
do,” replied Matt cautiously. “I ain’t seen
the money yet. Show me that first, an’ then
I’ll talk to you. I don’t reckon that you’ve
disremembered where you put it, have you?
’Cause if you have—”
The squatter did not think it necessary to
finish the sentence. He stopped, took his
ready knife from his pocket and looked around
for a switch. This alarmed Sam, who made
haste to assure his father that he had the
bearings of the hiding-place of the valises
firmly fixed in his memory, and that he could
go to it without the least difficulty.
“If you do that, you won’t get into no trouble
with your pap,” answered Matt, winking at
Sam, and then cutting down a hickory which he
proceeded to trim very carefully. “But you
an’ Jakey do have sich short memories sometimes
that I’m afeared to trust you; so I’ll
.bn 357.png
.pn +1
be on the safe side. If I find the money
where you say you left it, I won’t say a word
about the twenty-four mile tramp you made
me take for nothing; but I’ll l’arn you that
the next time you find six thousand dollars
you had better bring it to me without no
foolin’, instead of keepin’ it for your own
use.”
These words frightened Sam, who saw very
plainly that he need not hope to escape
without a whipping, even if his father found
the money. And if he didn’t find it, if some
one had been there during his absence and
stolen the valises from him, as he had stolen
them from Jake, then what would happen?
Sam thought of his brother’s battered countenance
and shuddered. Keeping his gaze
fixed upon his father’s face, he moved his
arms up and down, and discovered that they
were not as tightly bound as he had supposed.
In fact, Sam told himself that if his
father would go away and leave him alone
for two minutes he would not find him when
he returned.
“How do you like the looks of that,
.bn 358.png
.pn +1
Sammy?” said Matt, shutting up his knife
and giving the switch a vicious cut in the
air. “It’s mighty onhandy an’ disagreeable
to be a pap sometimes, leastwise when you’ve
got two sich ongrateful boys for sons as you
an’ Jakey be. This is all your own doin’s
an’ not mine.”
“I’ll never do it ag’in,” whined Sam, who
wasn’t half as badly frightened now as he
was before he found that he could move his
hands. “The next time I find six thousand
dollars layin’ around loose in the woods I’ll
bring it to you; the very minute I find it,
too.”
“Then you’ll be doin’ jest right an’ I
won’t switch you. Now we’re all ready an’
you can toddle on agin. I hope them valises
ain’t a very fur ways from here, ’cause I’m
in a monstrous hurry to handle the money
that’s into ’em.”
So saying the squatter picked up the free
end of the rope and followed Sam as if he
were a blind man, and Sam the dog that was
leading him. He must have been pretty near
blind, or else he did not make the good use
.bn 359.png
.pn +1
of his eyes he generally did, for he surely
ought to have seen that the cord that encircled
the boy’s wrists was very slack, and that
it would have fallen to the ground if Sam
had not kept his arms spread out to hold
it in place. After two miles had been passed
over in this way, Sam stopped in front of
the evergreen in which be had placed the
valises. The big drops of perspiration that
stood on his forehead had not been brought
out by the heat, but by the mental strain to
which he was subjected. From the bottom of
his heart Sam wished he knew what was going
to happen during the next two minutes.
“Why don’t you go on?” Matt demanded.
“Here we be,” answered Sam, faintly.
“Look in that tree an’ you’ll find ’em if somebody
ain’t took ’em out.”
“Whoop!” yelled Matt, knocking his heels
together and making the switch whistle around
his head. “Took ’em out? Sam, do you
know what them few words mean to you? If
any body has took ’em out I’m sorry for you.
Did you say the valises was in the tree?”
“Yes. I tied ’em fast among the branches
.bn 360.png
.pn +1
so’t the wind wouldn’t shake ’em out. Go
round on t’other side, stick your head into the
tree an’ you’ll find ’em.”
Trembling in every limb with excitement, the
squatter dropped the rope, placed his rifle and
Sam’s carefully against a neighboring tree, and
disappeared behind the evergreen. The instant
he was out of sight Sam brought his wrists
close together, and the rope with which he was
confined fell to the ground.
“I’ll show pap whether or not I am goin’ to
stay here an’ take sich a lickin’ as he give
Jakey,” thought Sam, as he wheeled about
and reached for his rifle. “I wish I dast p’int
this we’pon at his head an’ make him go halvers
with me if he finds it. But shucks! What’s
the use? He’d steal it from me the first good
chance he got, an’ then I wouldn’t have none
an’ he would have it all. I’ll do wusser’n that
for him,” muttered Sam, as he moved away
from the evergreen with long, noiseless strides.
“I’ll hunt up old man Swan an’ tell him that
if he’ll go snucks with me on the reward I’ll
show him where pap is. There, sir! I do think
in my soul he’s found it.”
.bn 361.png
.pn +1
These words were called forth by a dismal
noise, something between a howl and a wail,
that arose behind him. Sam had often heard
it and he knew the meaning of it. Sure enough
his father had found one of the valises. He
seized it with eager hands, tore it loose from
its fastenings, and dropped it to the ground.
It was broken open by the fall, and gold and
silver pieces were scattered over the leaves in
great profusion. For a moment Matt gazed as
if he were fascinated; then he fell upon his
knees among them and began throwing them
back into the valise, at the same time setting
up a yelp that could have been heard a mile
away.
“Luck has come my way at last,” said he,
gleefully. “Sam, I won’t lick you, but I
must do a pap’s dooty by you an’ punish you
in some way for not bringin’ it to me the minute
you got hold of it, so I’ll keep it all an’
you shan’t have none of it. Sam, why don’t
you come around here an’ listen to your pap?”
But Matt didn’t care much whether Sam
showed himself or not, he was so deeply interested
in the contents of the valise. After
.bn 362.png
.pn +1
carefully picking up every coin that had fallen
out of it, he gathered the shining pieces up by
handfuls and let them run back, all the while
gloating over them as a miser gloats over his
hoard. When he had somewhat recovered
himself he jumped to his feet and dived into
the tree after the other valise. He found it
after a short search, and placed it on the
ground beside its fellow.
“Whew!” panted Matt, pulling off his hat
and wiping his dripping forehead with his
shirt-sleeve. “It’s mine at last, an’ I’m as
rich as Adam was (I disremember his other
name), but I have heard that he had the whole
’arth an’ all the money an’ watches an’ good
clothes an’ every thing else in it for his own.
I ain’t got that much, but I’ve got enough so’t
I won’t have to work so hard nor go ragged
no more. Say, Sam, come around an’ take a
peep at it an’ see what you might have had if
you’d only been a good an’ dutiful son. Sam!
Where’s that Sam of our’n gone, I wonder.”
And Matt’s wonder increased when he walked
around the tree and found that the boy was
nowhere in sight. There lay the cord with
.bn 363.png
.pn +1
which his arms had been bound, but Sam was
missing and so was his rifle. That made the
whole thing clear to Matt’s comprehension.
“The ongrateful an’ ondutiful scamp!”
cried the squatter, angrily. “This is another
thing that I owe him a lickin’ for—runnin’
away from his pap. He’ll get it good an’ strong
when he comes home, I bet you, an’ so will
Jakey. Whoop! I’m boss of this house, an’
I don’t want none on you to disremember it.
Now, what shall I do with my money so’t I
can keep it safe? I reckon I’d best hunt up
the ole woman an’ ask her what she thinks
about it.”
So saying the squatter took his rifle under
his arm, seized a valise in each hand, and set
out for the cove.
.bn 364.png
.il fn=p362.jpg w=500px ew=90%
.ca Matt discovers the lost money at last.
.bn 365.png
.pn +1
.sp 4
.h2
CHAPTER XVI. | AT THE BOTTOM OF THE RIVER.
.sp 2
Matt Coyle would have been utterly
confounded if he had known, or even
suspected, how completely his family had been
broken up by the events of the last few days.
He labored under the delusion that Jake and
Sam had run away simply to escape the punishment
they so richly deserved; but they had
only made a bad matter worse, Matt told himself,
for they would be obliged to return sooner
or later, and then they might rest assured the
promised whipping would be administered
with added severity. But Jake and Sam had
gone away with the intention of staying away.
They were afraid of their brute of a father, and
the cold chills crept all over them whenever
they thought of the New London jail. They
could not see the justice of being beaten or
locked up for something they did not do, and
the only recourse they had was to go to those
.bn 366.png
.pn +1
whom they had been taught to regard as their
enemies—the guides and the officers of the
law. With the exception of his wife, the squatter’s
family had all turned against him. Her
he found dozing over a fire on the bank of a
cove. Without saying a word Matt walked up
and showed her the valises.
“What’s them, an’ where’s the boys?” she
drowsily asked.
“Now listen at the fule!” shouted Matt.
“Ain’t you got a pair of eyes? Them’s the
six thousand dollars that’s been a-botherin’ of
us so long, an’ the boys have run off to get
outen the lickin’ I promised ’em. But they’ll
come back when they get good an’ hungry, an’
then I’ll have my satisfaction on ’em. You’ve
got a little bacon an’ a few taters left, I reckon,
ain’t you? Well, dish ’em up, an’ I’ll tell
you where I’ve been an’ what a-doin’ since I
seen you last.”
The dinner his wife was able to place before
him did not by any means satisfy the cravings
of Matt’s hunger, and when it had been disposed
of there was not a morsel of any thing eatable
left in the camp; and, worse than that, Jake
.bn 367.png
.pn +1
was missing, and there was nobody to steal
another supply. Matt talked as he ate, and
by the time he was ready for his pipe he had
given his wife a pretty full history of his movements
during the last two days.
“This ain’t a safe country no longer after
me tyin’ Joe Wayring fast to a tree an’ promisin’
to lick him if he didn’t tell me where the
money was,” said the squatter in conclusion.
“He never had the money, Joe didn’t; Sam
knew where it was all the while an’ never told
me. But Joe won’t be nonetheless mad at
me, an’ I reckon I’d best be lookin’ for new
quarters for a while. I’m goin’ to take the
money an’ skip out. I do wish in my soul I
had a boat. I’d run a’most any risk to get
one.”
“Where would you go?”
“I’ll tell you,” replied Matt confidentially.
“I’ve been studyin’ it over as I come along,
an’ have made up my decision that I’d be
safer if I was onto their trail ’stead of havin’
them on mine; so I’ll put as straight for Sherwin’s
Pond as I can go an’ stay there till the
thing has kinder blowed over.”
.bn 368.png
.pn +1
“An’ what’ll I do?” inquired the old
woman.
“You? Oh, you ain’t done nothin’ that the
law can tech you for, an’ you had better hang
around Rube’s an’ get your grub of him. You
can pay him for it by slickin’ up his house an’
washin’ dishes for him, you know.”
“What’s the reason I can’t have some of
the six thousand to pay him with?”
“Now listen at you!” vociferated Matt.
“Don’t you know that if you should offer him
money he would know in a minute that you
had seen the six thousand an’ have you took
up for it? I tell you, ole woman,” added the
squatter, who was resolved to hold fast to
every dollar of his ill-gotten gains as long as
he could, “my way is the best; an’ if you
ain’t willin’ to it, you can jest look out for
yourself. Now I’m off. I’ll be back directly
the thing has kinder died down, like I told
you, an’ then we’ll put out for some place
where we can spend our money an’ live like
folks. Jakey an’ Sam’ll be back in a day or
two, to-night, mebbe, an’ they’ll look out for
you.”
.bn 369.png
.pn +1
The old woman did not say anything more,
for she knew that it would be useless. She
lazily smoked her pipe while Matt fastened
the valises together and slung them over his
shoulder as he would a knapsack, said “so-long”
in a drawling, indifferent tone, and saw
him disappear in the bushes.
“For the first time in my life I feel like I
was a free man,” soliloquized the squatter, as
he lumbered away through the woods. “I
ain’t a-goin’ to be bothered any more wonderin’
where Jakey is to get a new pair of shoes
ag’in snow comes, or how I’m to wiggle an’
twist to find Sam a new coat, or ask myself
whether or not the old woman’s got bacon an’
taters enough for breakfast. Rube’ll take
care of her, ’cause he’ll suspicion right away
that I’ve got the money an’ that I’ll be sure
to come back to her some day. I’ll take care
of myself; an’ as for the boys—I won’t think
two times about them ongrateful scamps.
They tried their best to cheat me outen my
shar’ of this money, an’ now I’ll see how much
they’ll get.”
The squatter continued to talk to himself in
.bn 370.png
.pn +1
this style during the three hours he consumed
in reaching the “old perch hole” at
the mouth of the creek, which must be
crossed in some way before Matt could fairly
begin his journey to Sherwin’s Pond. What
he was going to do or how he was going
to live after he got there, seeing that there
were no farmers in the immediate neighborhood
upon whom he could forage, Matt had
not yet decided; but when he found his
progress stopped by the creek he told himself
that he might as well rest a bit and smoke a
pipe or two while he thought about it. He
hunted up a log and seated himself upon it,
but almost instantly jumped to his feet and
dived into the bushes. It was at that very
moment that our party came into the creek.
By “our party” I mean Joe Wayring, Arthur
Hastings, and Roy Sheldon in the skiff, and
Mr. Swan, whose canoe was towing behind. As
I have before stated, I occupied my usual
place on the skiff’s stern locker, where I could
see every thing that went on and hear all that
was said. On this occasion I saw more than
any one else did. I had a fair view of the
.bn 371.png
.pn +1
valises on Matt’s back as they were disappearing
in the thicket, but I can’t imagine how
they escaped the observation of the sharp-eyed
guide who sat facing the direction in which
the boats were moving. I afterward learned
that Matt heard Mr. Swan’s voice when he
cautioned the boys to speak in a low tone, and
be careful how they allowed their oars to
rattle in the rowlocks, and I know that when
he cast off from the skiff and led the way up
the creak the squatter stole silently through
the woods and kept pace with him.
“That was a close shave, wasn’t it?”
chuckled Matt, peeping through the leaves to
mark the position of the boats in the creek and
then dodging back again. “A little more an’
they’d have ketched me, wouldn’t they? Now,
what did they come in here for, an’ where be
they goin’, do you reckon? I’d most be
willin’ to say that I’d give a hundred dollars
of this money if I had one of them boats of
their’n. Then I could go all the way to the
pond without walkin’ a step. I’ll jest toddle
along with ’em an’ see what they’re up
to; an’ if they leave them boats alone for
.bn 372.png
.pn +1
a minute they won’t find ’em ag’in in a
hurry.”
The boats moved so slowly and the creek
was so crooked that the squatter had no
difficulty in keeping up with us. Indeed, he
often gained half a mile or more by running
across the points while we went around them.
I have already told you what Mr. Swan and
the boys did when they reached the mouth of
the little stream that led from the creek to the
cove. They found the camp deserted, as I have
recorded, the old woman having set out for
Rube’s house very shortly after Matt left her
alone; and when they came back to the creek,
intending to go into camp there, they found
their boats gone.
I thought all along that Matt was following
us up the creek, for if I had not caught two
distinct views of his evil face peering through
the bushes I had certainly seen something
that looked very much like it. All doubts on
this point were dispelled from my mind before
Joe Wayring and his companions had been
gone five minutes. While they were moving
through the evergreens to surround the camp,
.bn 373.png
.pn +1
as the guide had directed, Matt Coyle came
out and showed himself. The celerity with
which that vagabond worked surprised me.
He had made up his mind what he would do,
and he did it without the loss of a second. He
made the painter of Mr. Swan’s canoe fast to
a ringbolt in the stern of the skiff and shoved
it away from the bank. Then he pushed off
the skiff, stepped in as soon as it was fairly
afloat, and headed it down the stream, using
one of the oars as a paddle. Presently the
current took us in its grasp and hurried us
along at such a rate that we were around the
first point before I fairly comprehended the
situation. This was the second time, to my
knowledge, that the cunning squatter had
executed a very neat flank movement upon Mr.
Swan and his party. Matt must have thought
of it, for I heard him say,
“That’s two times I’ve got the better of you
when you reckoned you had me cornered, ain’t
it? Whoop-pee! Luck’s comin’ my way ag’in,
sure enough. Now I’m all right. I’ll take
Jake’s old canvas canoe, if I can make out to
put him together, ’cause he’s light to handle
.bn 374.png
.pn +1
an’ won’t bother me none if I have to take to
the bresh. The other boats I’ll hide so’t nobody
won’t never find ’em ag’in. But first I’ll hunt
me a good quiet place an’ have a tuck-out.
There’s grub an’ coffee an’ sugar an’ sich in the
lockers of this skiff, an’ I’m hungry for some
of it.”
The country about was full of little waterways,
and Matt, being perfectly familiar with
every one of them, had no trouble in finding
the “quiet place” he sought. He paddled
over to the farther side of the creek, kept along
close to the bank for a mile or so, and then
pushed the skiff into the bushes. The overhanging
branches shut out every ray of light,
and it was so dark that I could not see what
sort of a place we had got into even when we
stopped; but I heard the squatter moving
around on the bank, and saw by the aid of a
match which he struck on his coat-sleeve that
he was lighting a fire. When the dry leaves
and sticks he had gathered in the dark blazed
up, I could see nothing but a solid mass of
hemlock boughs above, and other masses,
equally impervious to light, on all sides of me.
.bn 375.png
.pn +1
It was a better hiding-place than the cove, and
the squatter went on building a roaring fire,
knowing full well that the blaze could not be
seen from the other side of the creek where
the discomfited guide and his puzzled young
allies were standing, wondering what had
become of their boats.
Having gathered wood enough to keep the
fire going as long as he had use for it, Matt
drew the bow of the skiff high upon the bank
and proceeded to overhaul the lockers. With a
contemptuous grunt he caught up Fly-rod, who
was lying on the locker beside me, and tossed
him into the bushes. A second later he sent
Arthur’s rod and Roy’s to keep him company.
The cartridges, which were intended for the
boys’ double-barrel shot-guns, and which he
could not use in his old muzzle-loader, Matt
incontinently dumped overboard; also the
lemons, three gun cases, and as many portfolios
filled with writing materials; but the pocket
hunting knives and one double-bladed camp
ax he laid aside for his own use. At last he
came to the articles he was looking for—half a
side of bacon, a whole johnny-cake, two
.bn 376.png
.pn +1
canisters containing tea and coffee, another
filled with sugar, and about half a peck of
potatoes. He felt in every corner of the lockers
in the hope of finding a supply of smoking
tobacco; but that was something that never
found a place in Joe Wayring’s outfit.
Having provided himself with an excellent
supper, Matt went ashore to cook it. First he
opened the valises and placed them where he
could feast his eyes upon their contents, and
then he cut off several slices of bacon which he
proceeded to broil with the aid of a forked
stick. For a platter he used a piece of bark;
and every time he put a slice of the meat upon
it he would grab a handful of coins from one
of the valises and allow them to run slowly
through his fingers, laughing the while and
shaking his head as if he were thinking about
something that afforded him the greatest
gratification. He spent an hour over the meal,
then replenished the fire and laid down for a
nap, covering himself with Roy Sheldon’s warm
blankets. When he awoke he cooked and ate
another hearty supper, shook himself together,
and declared that he felt better and in just the
.bn 377.png
.pn +1
right humor to begin his lonely journey to
Sherwin’s Pond.
His first task was to put me together; and
to my surprise and disgust he accomplished it
with very little trouble. Then, in order to
make sure that he had not overlooked any
thing that he could use, he gave the skiff a
second examination, and took possession of
all Mr. Swan’s provisions. Every other article
belonging to the rightful owners of the boats
he dropped overboard or flung into the bushes.
“Mebbe they’ll find ’em ag’in some day an’
mebbe they won’t,” muttered the squatter, as
he extinguished the fire preparatory to shoving
off in the canvas canoe. “But if they do it
will be long after I am safe outen their reach.
They’ll never think of lookin’ for me so nigh
Mount Airy as Sherwin’s Pond is, an’ there
I’ll hide as snug as a bug in a rug till my
grub’s gone, an’ then—why, then I’ll have to
steal more, that’s all.”
In a few minutes Matt had pushed the canvas
canoe through the bushes into the creek,
and was plying the double paddle with sturdy
strokes. He could travel in the dark as well
.bn 378.png
.pn +1
as by the light of the sun, and he did not go a
furlong out of his course during the whole of
the journey. Neither did he have a pleasant
time of it. From the hour we started to the
time we arrived within sight of Sherwin’s
Pond the rain fell in torrents. This was a
point in Matt’s favor, for it was not likely that
sportsmen or tourists would venture abroad in
such weather unless necessity compelled them;
but the unusually high water that came with
the rain was to his disadvantage. Indian
River ran like a mill-sluice, and the current,
strong at all times, became so turbulent and
powerful, and its surface was so thickly covered
with driftwood and trees that had been
floated out of the lowlands, that canoe voyaging
was not only difficult but dangerous as
well. On one occasion I barely escaped being
stove all to pieces. This frightened the squatter
so that he gave up traveling by night, and
took to the water only when he could see
where he was going and what obstacles he had
to encounter. More than that, he converted
the stolen blankets into bags, put the cargo as
well as the valises into them, and lashed them
.bn 379.png
.pn +1
fast so that they would not spill out in case I
were overturned by any of the floating débris.
But that was a bad thing for Matt to do, as I
shall presently show you.
The sight that met my gaze when we came
where we could see Sherwin’s Pond was one I
never shall forget. That little body of water
had a way of getting ugly upon the slightest
provocation, but I never saw it in so angry a
mood as it was on this particular day. It was
filled with currents which were running in
every direction; at least that was what I
thought after I had watched the erratic movements
of the logs and stumps that were swimming
on its surface. Its numerous inlets had
filled the pond more rapidly than its single
outlet could relieve it; consequently the pond
looked higher than the river, and going into it
was like going up hill. Joe Wayring, fearless
and skillful canoeist that he was, would have
thought twice before attempting to go any
farther; but Matt had grown reckless, having
journeyed nearly a hundred miles without a
ducking, and all he did was to hug the bank a
little closer and put more strength into his
.bn 380.png
.pn +1
strokes with the double paddle. He got along
well enough until he came to the place where
the mouth of the river widened into the pond,
and then came the very disaster I had been
looking for. Before Matt could tell what his
name was, the current seized me and whirled
me out into the middle of the stream as if I
had been a feather, sending me there, too, just
in time to receive the full force of a terrific
blow from the roots of a heavy tree which
came rushing along with the torrent. Nothing
that was ever made of water-proof canvas
could remain afloat after a collision like that.
I rolled over and began filling on the instant;
and while the eddies were whirling me about,
and the gnarled and ragged roots of the tree
were enlarging the hole that had been torn
in my side, and I was sinking deeper and
deeper into the water, I heard Matt Coyle
utter one feeble, despairing cry for help, saw
him make a frantic grasp at the slippery trunk
of the tree as it swept by, and then I settled
quietly down to the bottom of the river, taking
the blanket-bags and their contents with me.
This, thought I, is the end of every thing with
.bn 381.png
.pn +1
me. I had expected and hoped to go to pieces
in the service, but not in the service of such a
fellow as Matt Coyle, who had undoubtedly
made way with himself as well as me, while
trying to do a most foolhardy thing. There was
not one chance in a thousand that I would ever
be found, or that the Irvington bank would
ever learn what had become of its money.
When Joe Wayring and his friends went
home they might pass directly over me, and I
would have no power to attract their attention.
I knew Joe would miss me sometimes, but I
wasn’t so conceited as to think that he could
not get another canoe that would more than
fill my place. I thought of these things, and
then I asked myself what had become of Matt
Coyle. If he were a strong swimmer he might
succeed in making a landing after the current
had carried him a mile or so down the river,
provided he could keep out of the way of the
driftwood. One thing I was sure of. He would
never find me or the money, either. Neither
would any body else. If the squatter got
ashore I did not see how he was going to live,
for the rifle on which he depended principally
.bn 382.png
.pn +1
to supply his larder during the winter was
tied fast to my ribs. If he succeeded in
evading the officers of the law, he would have
to go to work. I didn’t see any other way for
him to do.
While I was lying peacefully in my bed at
the bottom of the river, wondering how long
it would be before the never-ceasing friction
of the current would annihilate me utterly,
some events that have a slight bearing upon
my story were happening in the world above.
.bn 383.png
.pn +1
.sp 4
.h2
CHAPTER XVII. | THE EXPERT COLUMBIA.
.sp 2
“Stand perfectly still, boys,” said Mr.
Swan, when he and his young friends
halted on the bank of the creek and discovered
that their boats had vanished during their
brief absence. “Stand still, or you’ll muss
the ground up so that I can’t see the villain’s
tracks.”
“You don’t think they have been stolen,
do you?” exclaimed Arthur Hastings.
“I don’t think nothing else,” answered the
guide. “I’ve handled a boat too long to go
away and leave it without pulling it so far
out on the bank that the current can’t carry
it off. I’ve noticed that you are middling particular
about that, too. Of course our boats
were stolen. It’s one of Matt Coyle’s tricks.”
“Well, I am beat!” cried Joe.
“And under our very noses, too,” exclaimed
Roy.
.bn 384.png
.pn +1
“It isn’t quite as bad as that, but it’s bad
enough,” said Mr. Swan, who was angry as
well as surprised. “This is the second time
he has played this game on us, and I don’t
see why I didn’t tell one of you to stay here.”
While the guide talked he scraped a few dry
leaves and twigs together and touched them
off with a match. When they blazed up more
fuel was thrown on, and presently Roy pointed
out something. It was the print of a big foot
in the mud close to the water’s edge.
“What better evidence do you want than
that?” said Mr. Swan. “Matt Coyle is the
only man about Indian Lake who wears such
a shabby foot-gear and the only one who lugs
a hoof of that size around with him. I know,
for I have followed his trail plenty of times.”
“Then he must have been the one who kindled
that fire.”
“It’s very likely.”
“He may have been intending to camp there
for the night when we frightened him away,”
added Arthur.
“He may have been in camp,” assented the
guide, “but we never frightened him. He
.bn 385.png
.pn +1
had wind of our coming long before we got
here. Of course I don’t know how he got it,
but that’s the way the thing stands.”
“Well, what’s to be done?”
“Nothing at all to-night. We’ll camp right
where we are, and at daylight we’ll go back
to the hatchery.”
“Camp right here,” repeated Joe, dolefully.
“No blankets, no supper to eat, and no nothing.”
“Go back to the hatchery,” murmured Roy,
“and confess ourselves beaten again by that
villain, Matt Coyle. Oh, we’re the best kind
of fellows to go on a hunt after so cunning a
criminal as Matt, ain’t we?”
Arthur Hastings was too angry to say any
thing except that he was glad the squatter had
not run away with his gun as well as his skiff.
Mr. Swan was equally glad to have his beloved
brier-root and a plentiful supply of smoking
tobacco in his pocket. If he had left them in
his canoe, as he usually did, he would have
had the prospect of a miserable night before
him. As it was, he smoked and told stories,
and in listening to them the boys forgot that
.bn 386.png
.pn +1
they had no blankets to cover them, and that
they would not find a bite to eat till they
reached the hatchery the next day.
When morning came Joe and his friends
had nothing to do but brush the leaves from
their clothes, smooth their hair with their
hands, perform their ablutions in the creek,
and then they were ready for their ten-mile
walk. Mr. Swan spent a few minutes in looking
about Matt’s old camp, but did not find
any thing to tell him how long it had been
deserted or which way the squatter and his
family had gone. They arrived at the hatchery
tired and hungry, and the bountiful breakfast
the superintendent placed before them
was a tempting sight. That official laughed
when he heard how Matt had stolen up behind
them and run off with their boats, and scowled
when Roy told him what he and his boys had
done in their camp at No-Man’s Pond.
“Why, what in the world could have put it
into Matt’s head that you had the money?”
inquired the superintendent; and without
waiting for an answer he continued: “It beats
the world where that money has gone, but I
.bn 387.png
.pn +1
think we’ll soon get on the track of it. Did
you see the watchman as you came by his
shanty? Then perhaps you don’t know that
the old woman was taken into custody last
night?”
“No,” replied Joe. “We hadn’t heard of
that. What’s the charge?”
“Oh, she was taken in on general principles.
I don’t suppose she can be held as an
accessory, for she hasn’t gumption enough to
suggest or plan the robberies that her worthy
husband has committed; but she knew all
about them and can give the officers more help
than any body else. You see, ever since Matt
and his family left Rube’s cabin, the deputy
sheriff has taken to sleeping there; and last
night who should come poking along but the
old woman! When she found that she was a
prisoner, she lost heart and answered all the
questions the sheriff asked her. She didn’t
have the pluck to stand out, and I don’t wonder
at it. She looked as though she was almost
starved. She ate more grub than you four are
going to eat, judging by the way Joe is backing
away from the table already.”
.bn 388.png
.pn +1
“That’s good news,” said Mr. Swan.
“Where’s Matt now?”
“On his way to Sherwin’s Pond.”
“I wonder if that’s so, or whether the old
woman just made it up.”
“I am not sure about that, and neither was
the sheriff. I loaned him a boat and a couple
of my men, and he’s gone up to Indian
Lake with the woman. From there he will
take her to Irvington. He says she will
have to stand her trial with the rest of the
family.”
“I don’t believe that Matt went to Sherwin’s
Pond,” said Joe, after thinking the matter
over. “He would be in more danger there
than he would if he stayed here. The old
woman told that story to throw the sheriff off
the track.”
“Mebbe not,” replied the guide. “Don’t
we know by experience that the squatter is a
master hand to slip around and operate in the
rear of his pursuers? What more natural
than he should run up to the pond to get behind
us, thinking he would be safer there
than in the Indian Lake country? At any
.bn 389.png
.pn +1
rate, there’s where I am going as soon as I can
get a boat.”
“All right,” said Joe. “Any thing to keep
busy.”
“But if I was in your place I wouldn’t go
there just yet,” added the guide. “You want
your boat and the other things Matt stole,
don’t you? Well, then, hire a boat of Hanson,
go up the creek, explore every little
stream that runs into it on the right hand side
as you go up, and you will find some of them.
You won’t find all, of course, for Matt kept
one of the boats, all the provisions, and every
thing else that would be of use to him. After
you have done that, you can come up to the
pond, and you’ll be sure to find me and some
of the boys there. That would be my
plan.”
A very good plan it was, too, the boys told
one another, and they decided to adopt it.
After the superintendent had set them across
the outlet, they made the best of their way
toward Indian Lake, where Mr. Swan said they
would sleep that night. The first persons
they saw, when they entered the hotel and
.bn 390.png
.pn +1
approached the clerk’s desk to ask if they
could hire a skiff for a few days, were Jake
and Sam Coyle. But they were not as ragged
and dirty as usual. Their faces had been
washed, their hair combed, and somebody had
given them whole suits of clothes.
“Where did you catch them?” inquired
Roy.
“Right here in front of the house,”
answered the clerk. “They came in and gave
themselves up.” And then he went on to tell
their story pretty nearly as I have told it.
For once in their lives Jake and Sam had told
the truth, and the sheriff knew whom he must
find in order to recover the money. Of course
the boys did not know where their father had
gone, but the officer put implicit faith in the
old woman’s story.
“There’s where we’ve got to go, Swan,”
said the sheriff, “and there’s where we shall
find our man, if we find him at all. I have
engaged four unemployed guides to go with
me, and you will be a big addition to our
party. Joe and his friends—”
“They ain’t going,” said Mr. Swan; and
.bn 391.png
.pn +1
then he told his story, whereat the sheriff
laughed uproariously.
“But you are not to blame,” said he, consolingly.
“Matt would have played the same
game on any body else. But he’s got to the
end of his rope now, for I know just what I
have to work on. Don’t neglect to lay in a
good supply of provisions, for it may take us
two or three weeks to catch him, and I am not
coming back without him.”
Bright and early the next morning two parties
left the Sportsman’s Home and started
away in different directions, the sheriff and his
posse heading for Indian River, and Joe and
his friends striking for the “old perch-hole.”
They followed Mr. Swan’s advice to the letter,
and slept that night in the same camp that the
squatter had occupied two nights before. They
found the most of their things, too, some
in the bushes, some floating in the creek, and
the heavy articles, like the two extra camp-axes
and superfluous dishes, at the bottom
of it.
“Joe’s unlucky canoe is gone again, and so
are our blankets and all our grub,” said Roy,
.bn 392.png
.pn +1
“The possession of the six thousand dollars
must have made Matt good-natured, or he
would have smashed our boats before he
left.”
“Perhaps he didn’t think it best to waste
time on them,” said Arthur. “He might have
broken them up in a few minutes with the
axes, but we might have heard him. The cove
isn’t so very far from here.”
Having recovered the most of their property
the boys became impatient to join the sheriff’s
posse; but they were not well enough acquainted
with the country to make the journey
to Indian Lake in the dark. So they built
a cheerful fire, cooked a good supper and finally
went to sleep wrapped in the new blankets
they had purchased to take the place of those
Matt Coyle had carried off. Two days later
they had returned Mr. Hanson’s boat in good
order, settled their bills at the hotel, placed
Mr. Swan’s canoe under cover, and were on the
way to the pond in their own skiff. They
grumbled at the rain, as the squatter had done
when he passed that way a few hours in advance
of them, and did most of the rowing with
.bn 393.png
.pn +1
the awning up and their rubber coats and hats
on. After they had made about fifty miles up
the river they began telling one another that
if the sheriff had gone on to Sherwin’s Pond
he had made a mistake.
“Just see how the current runs,” said Joe,
as he tugged at his oar. “Matt, strong as he
is, never could have forced the canvas canoe
against it. He’s camped somewhere, waiting
for better weather, and we are getting ahead
of him.”
The other boys thought so, too, but as they
could not tell what else they ought to do they
kept on; but they did not attempt to run out
of the river into the pond. As Arthur said,
“it looked too pokerish.” The rain had
ceased, but the water was still high, the driftwood
was coming down in great rafts, and the
current was so strong that they could not stem
it with their three oars. There was nothing for
it but to tie up to the bank in some sheltered
spot, set the tent, get their stove going to drive
the dampness out of it, and make themselves
miserable until the water fell. As for hunting
up Mr. Swan and his party, that was out of
.bn 394.png
.pn +1
the question. The boys knew by experience
that there was no fun in traveling through a
piece of thick woods when every thing was
dripping wet. Their quarters, although a little
cramped, were dry, warm, and comfortable;
they had an abundance of provisions in the
lockers, and if it had not been for their impatience
to be doing something to aid in the
search they might have enjoyed themselves.
On the morning of the third day of their forced
inactivity, they were surprised to hear a hail
close at hand. They looked out and saw a
boat with two Mount Airy constables just coming
out of the pond into the river.
“Well, well,” said one of them, as they
came alongside the skiff and laid hold of the
gunwale to keep themselves stationary while
they talked to the boys. “You have had a
time of it, haven’t you?”
“Seen any thing of Mr. Swan and the sheriff
and the rest of them?” asked Arthur, in
reply.
“No. Are they in this part of the country?”
“Here’s where they started for. But if
.bn 395.png
.pn +1
you haven’t seen them how do you know
that we have had a time of it? You have
not been to Indian Lake this summer, have
you?”
“No; but we’ve read the papers.”
“The papers?” echoed Joe.
“Yes. The New London Times is full of it.
It told how Matt Coyle tied Joe to a tree and
threatened him if he—”
“I wouldn’t have had my mother hear of it
for any thing,” interrupted Joe. “Of course
it worried her.”
“Well, rather; but your father’s mad and
so is your uncle Joe. They’ve offered a
thousand dollars apiece for Matt Coyle’s apprehension,
and that’s what brought us out
here in the rain.”
“What brought the sheriff up here, any
way?” said the other officer. “Where is he
now?”
Roy Sheldon, who generally acted as spokesman,
replied by relating a long and interesting
story, saying in conclusion that he didn’t
know where the sheriff was, but he and a posse
had come to Sherwin’s Pond because Matt had
.bn 396.png
.pn +1
come there, believing it to be the safest place
for him. His wife said so.
“Mebbe she did, but that was a blind,”
replied the officer. “Three boat-loads of us
have been out in all the rain, scouring the
country high and low, and not the first sign of
any body did we see. Swan and his crowd
must have gone way up some of the creeks, or
else we should have met them.”
“Didn’t the papers say that my friends
rescued me from the squatter’s clutches?”
inquired Joe.
“Of course they did, but that didn’t make
your folks feel any easier about you. They’ll
worry till they see you among them safe and
sound.”
“Boys,” said Joe, decidedly, “I’m going
home; but you needn’t go. You want to see
Matt caught, and I’d like to; but I must go to
mother as soon as I can. If you will set me on
the other side of the creek I will start without
a moment’s delay.”
“Not much we won’t put you on the other
side of the creek and leave you to walk twenty-five
miles through the wet woods alone,”
.bn 397.png
.pn +1
answered Arthur. “You ought to go; I can
see that plain enough; so we’ll all go.”
“I think you ought,” said the constable.
“Your folks will all be uneasy till they see
you. They think you and Matt are still in the
Indian Lake country, and are afraid he will do
some harm to you.”
That settled the matter. After a little more
conversation the officers went back into the
pond to see if they could find any signs of the
sheriff and his posse, while the boys cast off
the lines that held the skiff to the bank and
headed her down the creek. They must make
a journey of seventy-five miles in order to get
above the rapids that lay between Mirror Lake
and Sherwin’s Pond. The narrow streams
they followed were so difficult of navigation,
and the various currents they encountered
were so strong, that it took them four days to
accomplish it; but the sight of Mirror Lake,
with all its familiar surroundings, amply repaid
them for their toil.
Of course they went to Joe’s home first, for
he was the one who had been tied to the tree
and for whose safety the Mount Airy people
.bn 398.png
.pn +1
were mostly concerned. If they had been
fresh from a battle-field they could scarcely
have met a warmer greeting than that which was
extended to them when they walked into Mrs.
Wayring’s presence and Uncle Joe’s. The
former, in spite of their protests, insisted on
making heroes of them.
“Well,” said Uncle Joe, when he had listened
to a hurried description of their various adventures,
“I don’t suppose you were at all
disappointed when you found that I could not
take you on that trip that we had been talking
about for a year or more?”
“Oh, yes, we were,” exclaimed Joe. “But
we couldn’t think of spending more than half
the vacation in doing nothing, and that was the
reason we went back to Indian Lake.”
Leaving Roy and Arthur in conversation with
his relatives, Joe Wayring, who had been
taught to take care of his things as soon as he
was done using them, took his gun under one
arm and Fly-rod under the other and went up
to his room. A few minutes afterward the boys
heard him calling to them from the head of the
stairs to “come up” and “come quick.”
.bn 399.png
.pn +1
They went, and found Joe walking about his
room in great glee, trundling an elegant nickel-plated
bicycle beside him. On the table lay a
card to which he directed their attention. Roy
picked it up and read:
.pm start_quote
“I am a present for Joe Wayring, and hope
in some degree to recompense him for the disappointment
he must have felt when he found
that his uncle could not take him on a trip this
summer. Use me regularly and judiciously,
and if you do not say that life has suddenly
doubled its charm—if you do not, before the
end of the year, notice a thousand and one
improvements in yourself, both physically and
mentally, then I shall have failed of my mission.
There are two others like me in town,
and one of my relations, ridden by Thomas
Stevens, the trans-continental cyclist, is now
on his way around the world.
.ll 68
.rj
“An Expert Columbia.”
.ll
.pm end_quote
.bn 400.png
.pn +1
.sp 4
.h2
CHAPTER XVIII. | CONCLUSION.
.sp 2
“Now isn’t he a daisy?” exclaimed Roy,
who could scarcely have been more
pleased if the wheel had belonged to himself.
“Full nickeled, ball bearings, adjustable saddle,
safety bar, Buffalo tool bag and lamp.
Every thing complete, of course, for your
Uncle Joe doesn’t do things by halves. Now,
Joe, you can ride and Art and I will go afoot.”
“Say,” cried Arthur, who had taken the
card from Roy’s hand. “What does this
mean? ‘There are two others like me in
town?’ There wasn’t a bike in Mount Airy
when we left.”
“That’s so. I wonder who have the others.
I wish you had, for I don’t want to be the only
one of our crowd to get my head broke.”
“Thank you for being so disinterested,”
said Roy. “But if it is all the same to you
.bn 401.png
.pn +1
I prefer to have my head as it is. But really,
I must go home now. Bring him out this
afternoon and let us see him throw you.”
When the boys went down stairs Joe stepped
into the sitting-room to thank Uncle Joe for
his beautiful gift. He came out looking more
surprised and delighted than ever.
“Now that’s an uncle for a fellow to have,”
said he. “I shouldn’t wonder if you fellows
would find mates to my machine when you get
home. I am going with you to see.”
“What makes you think that?” exclaimed
Roy and Arthur in a breath.
“Why, I told Uncle Joe that you two had
kindly invited me to come out where you could
see me thrown, and he said you had better
look out or you might be thrown yourselves.
Now what did he mean by that?”
The eager boys did not stop to decide, but
hurried back to the skiff and pulled for Roy’s
home at the top of their speed. There another
warm reception awaited them, and sure enough
a mate to Joe Wayring’s wheel was found in
Roy’s room; and tied to the brake was a card
stating that it was a present from his mother.
.bn 402.png
.pn +1
Of course the other wheel was found at
Arthur’s home. The three were so nearly
alike that if it had not been for the names and
numbers engraved upon them it would have
been difficult to tell them apart.
You may be sure that canoeing, boat-sailing,
and every other sport connected with the
water, was at a discount now. During the
next two weeks the three friends were rarely
seen upon the streets. They were practicing
behind the evergreens on Mr. Wayring’s lawn,
and every time the clanging of one of the gates
gave notice of the approach of a visitor they
would seize their wheels and run them around
the corner of the house out of sight.
“No; we are not ashamed of them,” said
Joe, in reply to a question his uncle propounded
to him one day. “We are ashamed
of our awkwardness, and don’t mean to give
any of the fellows a chance to laugh at us.
Wait until we can ride them ten feet without
falling off, and then we will go outside the
gate.”
It did not take the boys very long to attain
to that degree of proficiency, for I am told
.bn 403.png
.pn +1
that riding a wheel is easy enough after you
learn to put a little confidence in yourself; but
the boys had promised one another that they
would not go upon the street until they could
“get on pedal-mount,” and then they would
appear in style, “I bet you.”
The satisfaction they experienced, and the
good time they enjoyed during their first run
about town, amply repaid them for all the
trouble they had taken to learn to ride. One
bright afternoon, when the pleasant drive-ways
of Mount Airy were thronged with stylish
coupés and road-wagons drawn by high-stepping
horses, Miss Arden and two of her girl
friends, all handsomely mounted, suddenly
appeared among them. By the side of each
rode a uniformed wheelman who managed his
steel horse with as much grace and skill as
any of the girls managed hers. Such sights
are common enough now, but it was a new
thing in Mount Airy, and the riders attracted
a good deal of attention from admiring friends
and excited the ire of the drug-store crowd.
“Didn’t we say we would come out in style
when we got a good ready?” said Arthur, as
.bn 404.png
.pn +1
he and his companions dismounted at the post-office
after seeing the girls home. “I felt a
little nervous at first, but I am all right for
the future. Of course I expect to get some
falls, but this day’s experience has satisfied
me that I can stay in the saddle if I only keep
my wits about me.”
The ice having been broken, so to speak, the
boys no longer kept behind the evergreens,
but appeared upon the streets every day and
enjoyed many a pleasant run. Their wheels
proved to be so very accommodating and so
easily managed that they wondered they had
ever been afraid of them. Of course they began
to try tricks. They wouldn’t have been
live boys if they had not. First, they practiced
at making their wheels stand perfectly
still; and when they could do that they tried
something else. Of course they subscribed for
wheelmen’s journals, and in one of them read
of a rider who could bring his wheel to a stop,
get out of his saddle, open his lamp which he
had previously lighted, ignite his cigar, close
the lamp and mount again without ever touching
the ground or tipping his machine over.
.bn 405.png
.pn +1
They had any number of such examples which
they regarded as well worthy of emulation, and
Uncle Joe was heard to declare that it was as
good as a circus to stand at one of the windows
and watch the performances that went on in
his brother’s back yard.
You may be sure that these three boys did
not long remain alone in their glory. Other
wheels of different patterns began making their
appearance, and one day Tom Bigden and his
cousins rode gaily through the village, clad in
a uniform of their own invention, and which,
it is needless to say, was entirely different
from the one adopted by Joe Wayring and his
chums. Did this mean that there were to be
other rival organizations in town? It looked
like it. Every body talked wheel; and the
boy who didn’t have one was going to get it
just as soon as he could make up his mind
which was the best. Canoe literature went
out of fashion. The Amateur Athlete and
L. A. W. Bulletin were the only papers that
were worth reading, and songs of the wheel
were the only songs that were worth singing.
Even on the school-ground, or when the players
.bn 406.png
.pn +1
were taking their positions in a game of ball,
it was no uncommon thing to hear some fellow
strike up:
.pm start_poem
“Away we go on our wheels, boys,
As free as the morning breeze;
And over our pathway steals, boys,
The music of wind-swept trees.
And ’round by the woods and over the hill,
Where the ground so gently swells,
From a dozen throats in echoing notes
The wheelman’s melody wells.”
.pm end_poem
Although Joe Wayring and his friends had
so many agreeable things to occupy their minds
the events of the summer were not wholly forgotten.
When Joe saw a canoeist shooting
up the lake, with his arms bared to the
shoulder and his dripping paddle flashing in
the sunlight, he longed to launch his “old
canvas-back” and try conclusions with him.
And when Indian summer came, and a school-fellow
showed him a string of muscalonge or
pickerel he had caught in some isolated pond to
which he had penetrated with the aid of his
light draft canoe, Joe wished most heartily
that Matt Coyle had not been such an adept at
stealing things.
.bn 407.png
.pn +1
“I’ll never see my canoe again,” said he,
with a sigh of resignation. “I can’t say that
I hope he will drown Matt, but I do hope he
will duck him so many times and in such dangerous
places that the next time he sees a canvas
canoe he will run from it. What’s become
of him any way?”
That was the question that had been in every
body’s mouth ever since the day when the two
constables returned and reported that Matt
Coyle and the six thousand dollars and Joe
Wayring’s canoe must have sunk into the
ground or gone up in a balloon, for no traces
of them could be found, although every thicket
in the Indian Lake country had been looked
into. The squatter’s wife and boys were luxuriating
in New London jail, awaiting the result
of the search. As soon as Mr. Wayring and
Uncle Joe read the startling article in the Times
they offered a large reward for Matt’s apprehension,
and the former wrote to Joe to start
for home without the loss of an hour. But it
took a letter a long time to go to Indian Lake
by the way of New London, and Joe never
received it.
.bn 408.png
.pn +1
Tom Bigden was in great suspense, and it
was a wonder to his cousins how he ever lived
through it. He was utterly astounded when
he read the papers and saw what his last interview
with Matt Coyle had led to. His secret
weighed so heavily on his mind that he could
not carry it alone, and so he made a clean
breast of it to Loren and Ralph, who could not
have been more amazed if Tom had knocked
them down. Of course they wanted to help
him in his extremity, and the advice they gave
was enough to drive him frantic. One day
they were both clearly of opinion that he had
better leave the State for a while and let
the trouble blow over. Again, they thought it
would be a good plan for him to take his father
into his confidence; and perhaps half an hour
afterward they would declare that the only
thing he could do was to go to a lawyer
about it. Tom listened and trembled, but did
nothing. How would he have felt had he
known that the boy he had tried to get into
trouble was the one who was destined to help
him out of his?
“Rumor says that the old woman and both
.bn 409.png
.pn +1
the boys have told all they know; and I have
sometimes thought, by the way folks look at
me now and then, that there is more afloat
than we have heard of,” Tom often said, rubbing
his hands nervously together the while.
“Don’t I wish I knew whether or not they
have mentioned my name in connection with
this miserable business?”
“I don’t see what possessed you to tell Matt
that you had seen the valise in Joe Wayring’s
basket,” said Ralph. “If you had had the
first glimmering of common sense you would
have known better.”
“So I would,” assented Tom, who was so
frightened and dejected that he could not get
angry at any thing that was said to him.
“But I didn’t suppose he would blunder right
off after Joe and do something to get himself
into the papers. I am glad he didn’t tell Joe
Wayring that I put the idea into his head, for
it would have been just like Joe and his crowd
to spread it far and wide. They are jealous of
me, and will go to any lengths to injure me.”
The short Indian summer passed away all
too quickly for the Mount Airy boys, the
.bn 410.png
.pn +1
autumnal rains put a stop to wheeling, and
finally Old Winter spread his mantle over the
village and surrounding hills and took the lake
and all the streams in his icy grasp. When
the boys came out of their snug retreats they
brought with them their sleds, skates, and
toboggans. Tom Bigden was around as usual,
but every one noticed that he did not take as
deep an interest in things as he formerly did,
or “shoot off his chin” quite so frequently.
He permitted Joe’s sailboat to rest in peace,
and Joe was very glad of that, and often congratulated
himself and companions on the fact
that they had not once mentioned Tom’s name
in connection with the events that had happened
at the spring-hole.
The holidays drew near, and Roy Sheldon
proposed something that had not been thought
of for two or three years—a three days’ camp
in the woods between Christmas and New
Year’s, and pickerel fishing through the ice.
Sherwin’s Pond would be a good camping
ground, and the mouth of Indian River was the
place to go for pickerel. The idea was no
sooner suggested than it was adopted; and on
.bn 411.png
.pn +1
the 27th of December the three boys set off
down the twelve-mile carry, walking in Indian
file, and dragging behind them a toboggan
which was loaded to its utmost capacity with
extra clothing, blankets, provisions, cartridges,
and every thing else they were likely to need
during their stay in the woods. By two o’ clock
that afternoon they were snugly housed in a
commodious lean-to, whose whole front was
open to a roaring fire, and debating some
knotty points while they rested from their
labors. Who would put on his skates, cut a
hole through the ice, and catch a fish for dinner?
who would cook the fish after it was
caught? and who would cut the night’s supply
of firewood?
“I wouldn’t mind catching the fish, but I
don’t much like the job of cutting through ice
that must be all of ten inches or a foot thick,”
yawned Roy. “But somebody must do it, I
suppose, so I’ll make a try at it. Nothing
short of a sight of Matt Coyle coming around
the point could put much energy into me.”
“I was thinking about him,” said Joe, as he
picked up an ax and whet-stone. “We
.bn 412.png
.pn +1
thought we were safely out of his reach when we
made our camp at No-Man’s Pond, and yet he
found us easily enough. I wonder if we shall
have a visit from him to-day.”
“Hardly,” replied Arthur. “Tom Bigden
isn’t around to tell him that we’ve six thousand
dollars stowed away among our luggage.”
Having mustered up energy enough to get
upon his feet, Roy fastened on his skates,
took a “water-scope” under his arm, put an
ice-chisel on his shoulder, and disappeared
behind the point of which he had spoken,
leaving his companions to cut wood for the
night. The mouth of Indian River, so turbulent
and furious the last time Roy saw it, was
now a sheet of glaring ice, over which he moved
with long, graceful strokes. He stopped a
hundred yards or so below the pond, and went
to work with his chisel. It was a twenty minutes’
task to cut a hole through the ice and
bail out the pieces, and when that had been
done Roy pulled the cape of his heavy coat
over his head to shut out all the light, and
brought the water-scope into play. It was a
wooden box two feet long and six inches
.bn 413.png
.pn +1
square at one end, while the other widened
out sufficiently to admit a boy’s face. In the
smaller end was a piece of window glass, which
Roy was careful to wipe with his glove before
he put it into the water. These contrivances,
made of heavy tin and japanned, are kept on
sale now at most gun stores, and you can buy
one for a dollar and a quarter; but this one,
which Roy made himself, answered every purpose.
With its aid he could locate a bright
button at the bottom of a stream that was
twenty feet deep, provided, of course, that the
water was tolerably clear.
Throwing himself flat upon the ice, and
drawing the cape of his coat over his head as
I have described, Roy thrust the small end of
the box into the water and buried his face in
the other. There was a deep hole somewhere
along that bank in which muscalonge were
known to congregate, and Roy wanted to see
if he had hit it. He looked at the bottom for
about five seconds, and then threw back the
cape, jerked the water-scope out of the hole,
raised himself upon his knees, and sent up a
yell that was so loud and unearthly that it
.bn 414.png
.pn +1
brought Joe and Arthur around the point in
great haste. They probably thought that Roy
had been attacked by some wild animal, for
they held their guns in their hands and were
pushing the cartridges into them.
“Whoop-la!” shouted Roy. “I’ve struck
it rich. Joe, I’ve found your canoe. Don’t
believe it, do you? Well, look through that
box and tell me what you see.”
Joe complied without saying a word, and
one look was quite enough to excite him too.
Then Arthur took a peep and said:
“Yes, sir; that’s the canoe, and there’s a
rifle lashed fast to one of the thwarts. That’s
my blanket—the red one with a blue stripe on
the end. Now what’s to be done?”
“There’s something in that blanket, boys,”
said Joe, after he had taken a second look,
“and it is also tied to the canoe. How came
those things at the bottom of the river, and
where’s Matt Coyle?”
“And the money,” added Roy.
“We can talk about it while we go back to
camp and bring another chisel, and an ax to
enlarge the hole so that we can get the canoe
.bn 415.png
.pn +1
out, and a rope to haul him up with,” said
Arthur. “The sooner we get to work the
sooner we may be able to settle some things. I
think that with three of our largest and strongest
fish-hooks fastened into him we can pull
him up so that we can get hold of him.”
The others thought so too, and lost no time
in putting the matter to a test. By their united
efforts the hole was quickly enlarged to four
times its original size, the ice was baled out,
and in a few minutes more the campers were
angling for a bigger prize than they thought.
Not only three, but half a dozen hooks, two in
the hands of each boy, were fastened somewhere,
either in the sides of the canvas canoe
or in the thick blankets that were tied to it,
and by careful handling the whole was brought
so near the surface of the water that Roy seized
it and held it fast. Then with a “pull all together”
and a “heave-yo!” the canvas canoe
and its valuable cargo, which for four long,
dreary months had lain at the bottom of the
river, were hauled upon the ice.
“Now, let’s see what we’ve got,” said Joe,
drawing his knife from his pocket. “Here’s
.bn 416.png
.pn +1
Matt’s rifle to begin with.” As he spoke he
cut the weapon loose and flung it behind him.
“And here’s my blanket,” said Arthur.
“And as I shall never use it again I’ll
just—”
Arthur made a vicious cut with his knife as
he said this, and the result was so astounding
that the boys were struck dumb and motionless.
A small leather valise slipped out of the
rent he made, and falling upon the ice with
considerable force flew open, scattering a
shower of money before their astonished gaze.
Roy Sheldon, being the first to recover himself,
danced about like a crazy boy; Arthur
thrust his wet hands into his pockets and
whistled softly to himself; and Joe leaned
against the canoe and looked. Then he
wheeled about, made the hole in the blanket
larger, and found the other valise. While he
was doing that he discovered and pointed
out a gaping wound in my side which neither
he nor his friends had noticed before.
“To my mind that explains every thing,”
said Roy, bringing his wild war-dance to a close
and acting more like his sensible self again.
.bn 417.png
.pn +1
“Matt Coyle braved something that we were
afraid to tackle, and got himself snagged and
sunk by it. He tried to get into the pond and
went to the bottom instead. You can see that
he expected a capsize, for he’s got every thing
tied fast.”
“Did Matt go to the bottom with the canoe?”
inquired Joe.
“That depends upon whether or not he was
a good swimmer,” answered Roy.
“I should say it depended more on whether
or not the river was as ugly on the day he
came along here as it was when we saw it,”
replied Arthur. “If it was, the chances are
that he was drowned; for not one swimmer in
ten could get away from that current after it
got a good grip on him. Now, let’s pick up
the money, unload the canoe, and get him to
the fire before he freezes stiff.”
“This is the second time our fishing has
been broken up,” said Joe. “Well, the winter
isn’t half over yet, and it will be easy enough
for us to come back at some future time. But
we’ll never catch another prize like this in
Indian River.”
.bn 418.png
.pn +1
This made it plain to me that my master,
whose honest, cheerful face I was glad to see
once more, intended to start for home as soon
as he could get ready. I was glad of it, for if
I had been in his place I should not have cared
to camp in so wild a region with six thousand
dollars of another man’s money in my keeping.
It made the boys a trifle nervous, and during
the night one of them kept watch while the
others slept. They broke camp after eating
breakfast by firelight, and hardly stopped to
rest until the money had been handed over to
the officers of the Mount Airy bank, who
straightway telegraphed to the Irvington people
the gratifying intelligence that their missing
funds, which they had given up for lost, had
been fished out of the river. Every one said it
was a “lucky find,” and Tom Bigden wondered
if any thing would come of it. If he had been
in the bank a day or two afterward, he might
have heard something to astonish him. A
messenger came from Irvington to claim the
money, and Joe and his two friends were
invited to meet him. They were able to give
him a very accurate description of the adventures
.bn 419.png
.pn +1
through which the valises had passed
since they left his bank on the third of August
filled with stolen coin, and answered a question
or two that was asked them.
“I don’t know what kind of a case we shall
be able to make out against Sam Coyle and the
old woman,” said the messenger, “but it’s my
opinion that Jake will have a hard time of it.
Are you going to prosecute any body for stealing
your canoe?”
“No, sir,” answered Joe. “Matt was
to blame for that, and he is dead; got
drowned when the canoe was snagged and
sunk.”
“The boys and the old woman all contend
that they wouldn’t be half as guilty as
they are if one Tom Bigden had not advised
and urged them on to commit crime,” continued
the messenger. “Do you believe it? We
mean to sift the matter to the bottom, and
want to know how to go about it.”
“If I were in your place I’d let all such talk
go in one ear and out at the other,” replied
Joe, earnestly. “Tom Bigden has too much
sense to do any thing of the sort.”
.bn 420.png
.pn +1
“But I have heard it from more than one
source.”
“That may be. So have I; but I don’t
believe it.”
And this was the boy who was “jealous”
of Tom Bigden and his cousins, and who was
ready to “go any lengths to injure” them,
was it? You know how close Tom was to the
truth when he made that assertion.
I can not begin to tell you how glad I was to
find myself in my old familiar quarters once
more, or give you even an idea of the interest
and curiosity with which I regarded the handsome
stranger, the Expert Columbia, who
occupied the recess with me. He wasn’t a
bit stuck up because he had on more nickel
than the rest of us could boast of, and during
my time I have found that those who have done
great things, or who are capable of them, seldom
are stuck up. This new-comer was as common
as an old shoe, and as ready to talk to me as
I was to talk to him. 1 wasn’t jealous of him
for crowding me out of Joe’s affections for a
while, for I knew that Joe would come back to
.bn 421.png
.pn +1
me when he wanted to run the rapids into
Sherwin’s Pond or go a-fishing.
Under my master’s skillful care my wound
healed rapidly, and in a few days I was ready
for service again; but of course I was not called
upon. Even when spring opened I was not in
demand, but the bicycle was. He began running
the very minute the roads would admit
of it, and kept it up during the entire season,
covering an astonishing number of miles, and
saving valuable lives. He met some adventures,
too; and what they were and how he
came out of them he will tell you in the concluding
volume of this series, which will be
entitled: “The Steel Horse; or, The Rambles
of a Bicycle.”
THE END.
.bn 422.png
.bn 423.png
.pn +1
.nf c
FAMOUS STANDARD
JUVENILE LIBRARIES.
ANY VOLUME SOLD SEPARATELY AT $1.00 PER VOLUME
(Except the Sportsman’s Club Series, Frank Nelson Series and
Jack Hazard Series.).
Each Volume Illustrated. 12mo. Cloth.
.nf-
.hr 10%
.ce
HORATIO ALGER, JR.
The enormous sales of the books of Horatio Alger, Jr.,
show the greatness of his popularity among the boys, and
prove that he is one of their most favored writers. I am told
that more than half a million copies altogether have been
sold, and that all the large circulating libraries in the country
have several complete sets, of which only two or three volumes
are ever on the shelves at one time. If this is true,
what thousands and thousands of boys have read and are
reading Mr. Alger’s books! His peculiar style of stories,
often imitated but never equaled, have taken a hold upon the
young people, and, despite their similarity, are eagerly read
as soon as they appear.
Mr. Alger became famous with the publication of that
undying book, “Ragged Dick, or Street Life in New York.”
It was his first book for young people, and its success was so
great that he immediately devoted himself to that kind of
writing. It was a new and fertile field for a writer then, and
Mr. Alger’s treatment of it at once caught the fancy of the
boys. “Ragged Dick” first appeared in 1868, and ever since
then it has been selling steadily, until now it is estimated
that about 200,000 copies of the series have been sold.
.ll 68
.rj
—Pleasant Hours for Boys and Girls.
.ll
.bn 424.png
.pn +1
A writer for boys should have an abundant sympathy
with them. He should be able to enter into their plans,
hopes, and aspirations. He should learn to look upon life
as they do. Boys object to be written down to. A boy’s
heart opens to the man or writer who understands him.
.rj
—From Writing Stories for Boys, by Horatio Alger, Jr.
.hr 10%
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RAGGED DICK SERIES.
.ta c:10 c:50 r:8 w=80%
6 vols. | By Horatio Alger, Jr. | $6.00
.ta-
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Ragged Dick. | Rough and Ready.
Fame and Fortune. | Ben the Luggage Boy.
Mark the Match Boy. | Rufus and Rose.
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TATTERED TOM SERIES—First Series.
.ta c:10 c:50 r:8
4 vols. | By Horatio Alger, Jr. | $4.00
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Tattered Tom. | Phil the Fiddler.
Paul the Peddler. | Slow and Sure.
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TATTERED TOM SERIES—Second Series.
.ta c:10 c:50 r:8
4 vols. | | $4.00
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Julius. |Sam’s Chance.
The Young Outlaw. | The Telegraph Boy.
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CAMPAIGN SERIES.
.ta c:10 c:50 r:8
3 vols. | By Horatio Alger, Jr. | $3.00
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Frank’s Campaign.| Charlie Codman’s Cruise.
Paul Prescott’s Charge.|
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LUCK AND PLUCK SERIES—First Series.
.ta c:10 c:50 r:8
4 vols. | By Horatio Alger, Jr. | $4.00
.ta-
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Luck and Pluck. | Strong and Steady.
Sink or Swim. | Strive and Succeed.
.ta-
.bn 425.png
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LUCK AND PLUCK SERIES—Second Series.
.ta c:10 c:50 r:8
4 vols. | | $4.00
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Try and Trust. | Risen from the Ranks.
Bound to Rise. | Herbert Carter’s, Legacy.
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BRAVE AND BOLD SERIES.
.ta c:10 c:50 r:8
4 vols. | By Horatio Alger, Jr. | $4.00
.ta-
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Brave and Bold. | Shifting for Himself.
Jack’s Ward. | Wait and Hope.
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NEW WORLD SERIES.
.ta c:10 c:50 r:8
3 vols. | By Horatio Alger, Jr. | $3.00
.ta-
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Digging for Gold. | Facing the World. | In a New World.
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VICTORY SERIES.
.ta c:10 c:50 r:8
3 vols. By Horatio Alger, Jr. $3.00
.ta-
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Only an Irish Boy. | Adrift in the City.
Victor Vane, or the Young Secretary.
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FRANK AND FEARLESS SERIES.
.ta c:10 c:50 r:8
3 vols. | By Horatio Alger, Jr. | $3.00
.ta-
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Frank Hunter’s Peril. | Frank and Fearless.
The Young Salesman.
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GOOD FORTUNE LIBRARY.
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3 vols. | By Horatio Alger, Jr. | $3.00
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Walter Sherwood’s Probation. | A Boy’s Fortune.
The Young Bank Messenger.
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RUPERT’S AMBITION.
.ta c:10 c:50 r:8
1 vol. | By Horatio Alger, Jr. | $1.00
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JED, THE POOR-HOUSE BOY.
.ta c:10 c:50 r:8
1 vol. | By Horatio Alger, Jr. | $1.00
.ta-
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.pn +1
.sp 4
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HARRY CASTLEMON.
.hr 20%
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HOW I CAME TO WRITE MY FIRST BOOK.
When I was sixteen years old I belonged to a composition
class. It was our custom to go on the recitation seat
every day with clean slates, and we were allowed ten minutes
to write seventy words on any subject the teacher
thought suited to our capacity. One day he gave out “What
a Man Would See if He Went to Greenland.” My heart was
in the matter, and before the ten minutes were up I had one
side of my slate filled. The teacher listened to the reading
of our compositions, and when they were all over he simply
said: “Some of you will make your living by writing one
of these days.” That gave me something to ponder upon,
I did not say so out loud, but I knew that my composition
was as good as the best of them. By the way, there was
another thing that came in my way just then. I was reading
at that time one of Mayne Reid’s works which I had
drawn from the library, and I pondered upon it as much as
I did upon what the teacher said to me. In introducing
Swartboy to his readers he made use of this expression:
“No visible change was observable in Swartboy’s countenance.”
Now, it occurred to me that if a man of his education
could make such a blunder as that and still write a
book, I ought to be able to do it, too. I went home that very
day and began a story, “The Old Guide’s Narrative,” which
was sent to the New York Weekly, and came back, respectfully
declined. It was written on both sides of the sheets
but I didn’t know that this was against the rules. Nothing
abashed, I began another, and receiving some instruction,
from a friend of mine who was a clerk in a book store, I
wrote it on only one side of the paper. But mind you, he
didn’t know what I was doing. Nobody knew it; but one
.bn 427.png
.pn +1
day, after a hard Saturday’s work—the other boys had been
out skating on the brick-pond—I shyly broached the subject
to my mother. I felt the need of some sympathy. She
listened in amazement, and then said: “Why, do you think
you could write a book like that?” That settled the matter,
and from that day no one knew what I was up to until I sent
the first four volumes of Gunboat Series to my father. Was
it work? Well, yes; it was hard work, but each week I had
the satisfaction of seeing the manuscript grow until the
“Young Naturalist” was all complete.
.ll 68
.rj
—Harry Castlemon in the Writer.
.ll
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GUNBOAT SERIES.
.ta c:10 c:50 r:8
6 vols. | By Harry Castlemon. | $6.00
.ta-
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Frank the Young Naturalist. | Frank before Vicksburg.
Frank on a Gunboat. | Frank on the Lower Mississippi.
Frank in the Woods. | Frank on the Prairie.
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ROCKY MOUNTAIN SERIES.
.ta c:10 c:50 r:8
3 vols. | By Harry Castlemon. | $3.00
.ta-
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Frank Among the Rancheros. | Frank in the Mountains.
Frank at Don Carlos’ Rancho.
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SPORTSMAN’S CLUB SERIES.
.ta c:10 c:50 r:8
3 vols. | By Harry Castlemon. | $3.75
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The Sportsman’s Club in the Saddle. | The Sportsman’s Club
The Sportsman’s Club Afloat. | Among the Trappers.
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FRANK NELSON SERIES.
.ta c:10 c:50 r:8
3 vols. | By Harry Castlemon. | $3.75
.ta-
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Snowed up. | Frank in the Forecastle. | The Boy Traders.
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BOY TRAPPER SERIES.
.ta c:10 c:50 r:8
3 vols. | By Harry Castlemon. | $3.00
.ta-
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The Buried Treasure. | The Boy Trapper. | The Mail Carrier.
.ta-
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ROUGHING IT SERIES.
.ta c:10 c:50 r:8
3 vols. | By Harry Castlemon. | $3.00
.ta-
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George in Camp. | George at the Fort. | George at the Wheel.
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ROD AND GUN SERIES.
.ta c:10 c:50 r:8
3 vols. | By Harry Castlemon. | $3.00
.ta-
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Don Gordon’s Shooting Box. | The Young Wild Fowlers. | Rod and Gun Club.
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GO-AHEAD SERIES.
.ta c:10 c:50 r:8
3 vols. | By Harry Castlemon. | $3.00
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Tom Newcombe. | Go-Ahead. | No Moss.
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WAR SERIES.
.ta c:10 c:50 r:8
6 vols. | By Harry Castlemon. | $6.00
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True to His Colors. | Marcy the Blockade-Runner.
Rodney the Partisan. | Marcy the Refugee.
Rodney the Overseer. | Sailor Jack the Trader.
.ta-
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HOUSEBOAT SERIES.
.ta c:10 c:50 r:8
3 vols. | By Harry Castlemon. | $3.00
.ta-
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The Houseboat Boys. |The Mystery of Lost River Canon.
The Young Game Warden.
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AFLOAT AND ASHORE SERIES.
.ta c:10 c:50 r:8
3 vols. By Harry Castlemon. $3.00
.ta-
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Rebellion in Dixie.
A Sailor in Spite of Himself.
The Ten-Ton Cutter.
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THE PONY EXPRESS SERIES.
.ta c:10 c:50 r:8
3 vol. By Harry Castlemon. $3.00
.ta-
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The Pony Express Rider. | The White Beaver.
Carl, The Trailer.
.ta-
.bn 429.png
.pn +1
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EDWARD S. ELLIS.
Edward S. Ellis, the popular writer of boys’ books, is
a native of Ohio, where he was born somewhat more than a
half-century ago. His father was a famous hunter and rifle
shot, and it was doubtless his exploits and those of his associates,
with their tales of adventure which gave the son his
taste for the breezy backwoods and for depicting the stirring
life of the early settlers on the frontier.
Mr. Ellis began writing at an early age and his work was
acceptable from the first. His parents removed to New
Jersey while he was a boy and he was graduated from the
State Normal School and became a member of the faculty
while still in his teens. He was afterward principal of the
Trenton High School, a trustee and then superintendent of
schools. By that time his services as a writer had become
so pronounced that he gave his entire attention to literature.
He was an exceptionally successful teacher and wrote a number
of text-books for schools, all of which met with high
favor. For these and his historical productions, Princeton
College conferred upon him the degree of Master of Arts.
The high moral character, the clean, manly tendencies
and the admirable literary style of Mr. Ellis’ stories have
made him as popular on the other side of the Atlantic as in
this country. A leading paper remarked some time since,
that no mother need hesitate to place in the hands of her boy
any book written by Mr. Ellis. They are found in the leading
Sunday-school libraries, where, as may well be believed,
they are in wide demand and do much good by their sound,
wholesome lessons which render them as acceptable to parents
as to their children. All of his books published by Henry
T. Coates & Co. are re-issued in London, and many have
been translated into other languages. Mr. Ellis is a writer
of varied accomplishments, and, in addition to his stories, is
the author of historical works, of a number of pieces of popular
.bn 430.png
.pn +1
music and has made several valuable inventions. Mr.
Ellis is in the prime of his mental and physical powers, and
great as have been the merits of his past achievements, there
is reason to look for more brilliant productions from his pen
in the near future.
.ce
DEERFOOT SERIES.
.ta c:10 c:50 r:8
3 vols. | By Edward S. Ellis. | $3.00
.ta-
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Hunters of the Ozark. | The Last War Trail.
Camp in the Mountains.
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LOG CABIN SERIES.
.ta c:10 c:50 r:8
3 vols. | By Edward S. Ellis. | $3.00
.ta-
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Lost Trail. | Footprints in the Forest.
Camp-Fire and Wigwam.
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BOY PIONEER SERIES.
.ta c:10 c:50 r:8
3 vols. | By Edward S. Ellis. | $3.00
.ta-
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Ned in the Block-House. | Ned on the River.
Ned in the Woods.
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THE NORTHWEST SERIES.
.ta c:10 c:50 r:8
3 vols. | By Edward S. Ellis. | $3.00
.ta-
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Two Boys in Wyoming. | Cowmen and Rustlers.
A Strange Craft and its Wonderful Voyage.
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BOONE AND KENTON SERIES.
.ta c:10 c:50 r:8
3 vols. | By Edward S. Ellis. | $3.00
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Shod with Silence. | In the Days of the Pioneers.
Phantom of the River.
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IRON HEART, WAR CHIEF OF THE IROQUOIS.
.ta c:10 c:50 r:8
1 vol. | By Edward S. Ellis. | $1.00
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THE SECRET OF COFFIN ISLAND.
.ta c:10 c:50 r:8
1 vol. | By Edward S. Ellis. | $1.00
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THE BLAZING ARROW.
.ta c:10 c:50 r:8
1 vol. | By Edward S. Ellis. | $1.00
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J. T. TROWBRIDGE.
Neither as a writer does he stand apart from the great
currents of life and select some exceptional phase or odd
combination of circumstances. He stands on the common
level and appeals to the universal heart, and all that he suggests
or achieves is on the plane and in the line of march of
the great body of humanity.
The Jack Hazard series of stories, published in the late
Our Young Folks, and continued in the first volume of St.
Nicholas, under the title of “Fast Friends,” is no doubt
destined to hold a high place in this class of literature. The
delight of the boys in them (and of their seniors, too) is
well founded. They go to the right spot every time. Trowbridge
knows the heart of a boy like a book, and the heart
of a man, too, and he has laid them both open in these books
in a most successful manner. Apart from the qualities that
render the series so attractive to all young readers, they
have great value on account of their portraitures of American
country life and character. The drawing is wonderfully
accurate, and as spirited as it is true. The constable, Sellick,
is an original character, and as minor figures where will
we find anything better than Miss Wansey, and Mr. P. Pipkin,
Esq. The picture of Mr. Dink’s school, too, is capital,
and where else in fiction is there a better nick-name than
that the boys gave to poor little Stephen Treadwell, “Step
Hen,” as he himself pronounced his name in an unfortunate
moment when he saw it in print for the first time in his lesson
in school.
On the whole, these books are very satisfactory, and
afford the critical reader the rare pleasure of the works that
are just adequate, that easily fulfill themselves and accomplish
all they set out to do.—Scribner’s Monthly.
.bn 432.png
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JACK HAZARD SERIES.
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6 vols. | By J. T. Trowbridge. | $7.35
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Jack Hazard and His Fortunes. |Doing His Best.
The Young Surveyor. | A Chance for Himself.
Fast Friends. | Lawrence’s Adventures.
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.hr 10%
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ROUNDABOUT LIBRARY.
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For Boys and Girls.
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(97 Volumes.) | 75c. per Volume.
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The attention of Librarians and Bookbuyers generally
is called to Henry T. Coates & Co.’s Roundabout
Library, by the popular authors.
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EDWARD S. ELLIS, | MARGARET VANDEGRIFT,
HORATIO ALGER, JR., | HARRY CASTLEMON,
C. A. STEPHENS, | C. A. HENTY,
LUCY C. LILLIE and others.
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No authors of the present day are greater favorites with
boys and girls.
Every book is sure to meet with a hearty reception by
young readers.
Librarians will find them to be among the most popular
books on their lists.
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Complete lists and net prices furnished on application.
.hr 10%
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HENRY T. COATES & CO.
PHILADELPHIA.
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Transcriber’s Note
Errors deemed most likely to be the printer’s have been corrected, and
are noted here. The references are to the page and line in the original.
The following issues should be noted, along with the resolutions.
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| he would go on to the next.[”] | Removed.
| I couldn’t help it,[”] stammered Jake, | Added.
| it won[’]t take me long to see | Inserted.
| Now you are off for that spring-hole, I suppose[.] | Added.
| “We shall be much obliged.[”] | Added.
| listening for their app[r]oach. | Inserted.
| But he [’]won’t tumble onto me agin | Removed.
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