OFFICERS OF THE LAW.
It was a jolly party that gathered about the breakfast table in that
little cottage on Sandy Point. The fish were cooked brown and crisp, the
coffee was delicious, and everything tasted good. They laughed and joked
as they ate.
Merriwell and Hodge had told all about their encounter with Bunker and
Welch.
“We must look out for those fellows,” said Diamond.
“I don’t believe they will trouble us again,” declared Browning. “Welch
would have no sense of gratitude if he did after Merriwell saved him
from drowning.”
“I don’t think he is a fellow who has any sense of gratitude,” came from
Hodge; “and his face shows he is a hard drinker. I believe the man can
lead him into anything.”
“Oh! I don’t know about that,” said Frank. “He did not take any part in
Bunker’s attempted attack on us after I got him out of the water. That
shows——”
“Nothing,” cut in Bart. “He was pretty well used up, and he did not have
the nerve to take any part in that little affair. I think that fellow is
thoroughly bad.”
“Don’t be too hard on him, old man,” said Frank.
“Well, see if I am not right. You’re always trying to discover good
qualities in everybody. You do not seem to believe any person can be
thoroughly bad.”
“That is right,” nodded Frank; “I do not believe anybody can be entirely
bad. I am firmly convinced that even the worst ruffian has some
redeeming qualities.”
“That’s all right, but it makes me tired when you put so much confidence
in rascals who are doing everything possible to injure you. Some time
you will get done up for keeps by some ruffian you are trying to
befriend.”
“Perhaps so. I’ll chance it.”
Breakfast over, Browning threw himself down on one of the beds and
lighted a cigarette.
“There,” he said, with a sigh of satisfaction, “now I could go to sleep
again, and I wouldn’t need any rocking.”
“Gif me a shiggerette, Pruce,” said Hans. “Id makes you vant to smoke
ven I haf von.”
“Confound your cigarettes!” cried Diamond. “I wish you wouldn’t smoke
them! When a fellow had such a hard time to leave off as I did, it’s a
big temptation to see others smoking and to smell them.”
“You’re not obliged to see me,” grunted Bruce. “You can go outside.
There’s nobody round to bother you out——”
There was a sound of feet on the steps, and two men entered the cottage.
They were large, determined-looking fellows, plainly dressed. They
stopped just inside the door and looked the party over, without speaking
a word.
“How do you do, gentlemen,” said Merriwell. “This visit is something of
a surprise. You’re a little late for breakfast.”
The larger of the two men nodded shortly, then he turned to the other
and said something in a low tone. Their actions aroused Bart’s
suspicions, and he took a step toward the corner, where two shotguns
stood.
“Is this the whole of your party?” asked the large man.
“It is,” answered Frank. “What can we do for you?”
The man did not answer at once, but he was heard to say to the other:
“He ain’t here.”
“Perhaps they’re lyin’,” muttered the other.
“Look here,” came grimly from the big man; “we’re looking for a certain
person, and we have been told he was camping out over this way with a
lot of boys.”
Frank flushed a bit and stepped forward promptly.
“There is no person camping here besides the ones you see,” came rather
sharply from his lips.
More words passed between the two men, and then the larger one said
aloud:
“If you’re lyin’, you’ll get yourselves inter trouble. I am Ben Bowers,
the sheriff from Newport. This is John Nason, one of my deputies. We are
here looking after a certain chap who has been passing in this section
under the name of Joe Tweed.”
“We know nothing of Mr. Joe Tweed. We never heard of him, sir.”
“That’s all right. You look as if you was honest, but, perhaps, you
don’t know what this Tweed has done.”
“We do not.”
“Well, he’s robbed an old miser, over in North Newport, of thirty
thousand dollars, and hit the old man a crack on the head that may kill
him. Now, if you’ve seen Tweed, or know anything about him, the best
thing you can do is to tell everything. You’ll git in a bad scrape if
you don’t, that’s all.”
By this time Frank was thoroughly angry, but he held himself in check,
seeming perfectly cool, although he spoke firmly.
“We are not robbers, Mr. Sheriff, and we do not associate with robbers.
Such an insinuation is decidedly unpleasant.”
“Perhaps they’ve seen him,” said the deputy.
Bart strode to Frank’s side and said, in a low tone:
“Who knows—this chap who calls himself Bunker may be the fellow they are
looking after.”
Frank gave a start. Then he asked:
“What does this Joe Tweed look like, Mr. Bowers? Will you describe him,
please.”
“He’s a large man, dresses pretty well, smooth-faced, looks like an
actor. He is a very smooth talker. Has a small, blue scar under his left
ear.”
Bart was disappointed.
“Bunker’s not the man,” he said, regretfully.
“We have seen no such man as you describe,” declared Merriwell. “He has
not been here.”
“It’s strange,” declared the sheriff. “Proctor said he saw him around
here yesterday afternoon. Proctor was coming over from Turner’s about
the middle of the afternoon, and, as he was running past this point, he
said he saw Tweed come out of the woods. When Tweed saw Proctor’s boat,
he turned round and made into the bushes in a hurry. That looks as if he
had some sort of hiding place round here.”
“With the exception of Hans, we were all over to Camp Benson yesterday
afternoon. Hans was here alone. Did you see anybody prowling around here
yesterday, Hans?”
“Shimminy Gristmas!” gurgled Hans, turning pale. “You pet I didn’d seen
nopodys! Uf I knew nopodys vos browling around here, I vould been so
scat dot you vould had heart vailure! Und id vos a roppers? Py Chorch!
you don’d got me to stayed here some more all alone myseluf by!”
The Dutch lad’s fear and excitement was genuine, and it impressed the
men more than anything Merriwell had said.
“Well,” observed the sheriff, “if you know nothing about him, you will
not be able to help us in any way. We thought it possible he had managed
to get you to take him in with you some way, even if he was not one of
your party originally. Keep your eyes open for him. There is a reward of
five hundred dollars offered for his capture already. If you could help
us nab him, it would be worth your while. That’s all. Sorry to have
disturbed you. Must be going. Good-morning.”
Then he turned and, followed by the deputy, left the cottage.
Merriwell was interested now, and he followed the officers out, asking
them several questions about Joe Tweed, the robber. He learned that
Tweed had been hanging around Newport for some time, but had not been
seen there for several days. He had made many acquaintances in the
village at the foot of the lake, and had found out all about Peter
Small, the miser. It was thought in Newport that Tweed had been assisted
by some person who lived in that vicinity, for the manner in which he
had entered Small’s house and found the old man’s hidden hoard of money,
after half killing the miser, showed he was well informed.
Frank, Bart and Jack accompanied the officers down to the shore, where a
small sailboat lay. With the boat they had run over from Turner’s, and
they said they were going on to Proctor’s, the wind being favorable.
The boys saw them depart, and then returned to the cottage, discussing
the events of the morning.
They found Hans savagely at work cleaning the guns. He was sweating and
hurrying as if his life depended on what he was doing. Browning was
snoring on the bed.
“Here, here, what are you doing?” asked Frank.
“Gitting retty to met dot roppers!” shouted the Dutch lad, fiercely
ramming a swab stick down the barrel of a gun. “You shust let dot
roppers come fooling arount here some more und seen how kvick he vill
shoot me. Oh, I peen goin’ to gatch heem und got der fife hundret
tollars!”
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