SETTING THE MAN TRAP AGAIN.
Jim was only too delighted to act once more as guide.
The look of fear had quite left his face, and both Max and Bandy-legs saw
that after all the poor little chap was rather a decent-looking boy.
"Say, is he agoin' tuh git well, mistah?" he asked, turning when they were
once more fairly on the way back to the trail leading to the camp.
"Sure he is, Jim," answered Max.
"But he'd 'a' gone dead on'y for you uns comin' tuh help. Reckon as how we
orter be kinder 'bleeged fur doin' this away," went on the boy, awkwardly
trying to prove that he knew what gratitude meant.
"That's all right, Jim," Max smilingly said. "Perhaps he wouldn't have
died on account of his broken leg, but he'd never walked again without a
limp. But look here, don't you say another word about it, Jim."
"But--"
"Because," Max went on, quickly, "it's been a pleasure to me to attend your
dad. I'm wanting to be a surgeon some day, and every little bit of practice
helps. Now, if you don't mind, we'd like to know something about you, Jim.
Where'd you come from? I never saw you or your father around Carson, which
is the name of the town where my chum here and myself live."
The boy actually turned red in the face. His confusion told the sharp-eyed
Max that there must be some sort of unpleasant story connected with the
past.
"Hold on, Jim, I take that back," he hastened to say. "It's none of my
business, and you needn't tell me anything about what you've been through."
"But I jest has tuh, 'case it's been a-burnin' in here ever so long, an'
never anybody tuh tell," and Jim slapped his hand on his breast as he
spoke.
"Oh! well, please yourself, Jim," Max observed, seeing that the confidence
would really satisfy the boy, who had evidently never known a friend in all
his life, save his wandering father.
"And, Jim," put in Bandy-legs, seriously, "just you make up your mind that
we'll never whisper a word of what you tell us to a living soul, eh, Max?"
"That's a sure thing," replied the other.
Jim fell back a little, so that he might be closer to these two splendid
friends, who were already assuming the rôle of heroes in his eyes.
"'Tain't so bad, I reckons," he started in to say. "Yuh see, dad, he never
done as they sez. Lots o' times he tells me as how sum other man he tries
tuh rob that ole farmer. But they ketched him in our camp, an' totes him
tuh the farmhouse. I heerd 'em say as how they means tuh kerry dad tuh town
an' hev him shut up, when mawnin' kims along."
The boy drew a long breath. His eyes flashed with the memory of the wrongs
that had been heaped upon his father; and Max chuckled with glee to see
that after all he had more or less "spunk" in his small body.
"I take it from what you say, Jim, that you weren't made a prisoner at the
same time they nabbed your father?" he remarked.
"Naw," replied the boy, "I chanct tuh be away from camp jest then, yuh see.
Wen I kim back I seed three big men a-hustlin' dad along, an' him a-saying
all' ther time he never done nawthin'."
"Of course you followed them?" said Max.
"Yep. They wasn't nawthin' else tuh be done," came the answer, as the boy
grinned a little.
"Bet you he helped his dad skip out, Max," was the suggestion Bandy-legs
put up.
"Did you, Jim?" demanded the other.
"I sartin did that same, mistah," came the prompt reply, a little proudly.
"Seen whar they done locked dad in the smokehouse. Tried the door, but it
wa'n't no go. Then I started tuh tunnel under the wall."
"Well, I declare! What d'ye think of that, now?" exclaimed the wondering
Bandy-legs. "Ain't he just the little boss schemer, though?"
"And did you succeed--did you get your dad out all right?" asked Max.
"I sartin did. Took a heap o' time, I tell yuh. Reckon 'twas nigh mawnin'
wen he crawled through the hole, an' we lit out foh the woods."
"And since that time you've been in hiding, afraid to show yourselves in
any town?" Max continued, bent on knowing all the particulars, for he had
taken a decided interest in little Jim.
"Yep, we jest stuck tuh the woods," the other went on to say. "Dad, he
'membered hearin' some feller say as how these yer shells was wuth money,
if so be they cud be gathered in heaps. An' so yuh see we ben gatherin' 'em
right along."
"How'd you ever get feed?" asked Bandy-legs, whose mind always traveled to
this very important question.
"Dad had jest a leetle money, left over from his last job," Jim replied.
"Then we set traps an' ketched a few rabbits. I fished some, too. Reckon
we managed tuh get along. Lots o' times, though, I was that hungry I cud
'a' et a raw turnip."
"You say your father worked--was he a farm hand?" Max asked.
"Naw. Dad he's a travelin' printer, an' a good un, too, mistah. But he jest
cain't stay ennywhere long. He's got gypsy blood, yuh see, and the travel
bug he sez is in his body. So arter a little we gets out on the road again
tuh see the sights."
"A traveling printer, eh?" remarked Bandy-legs; "say, that's kind of queer
now. Reckon he'd strike a job if he dropped in on Mr. Robbins, the editor
of the _Carson Weekly Town Topics_."
"What makes you say that?" demanded Max.
"Because I chanced to hear him say his typesetter was bound to leave him in
the lurch, and he didn't know where he'd get a man by the first of the
month," Bandy-legs replied promptly.
"There, do you hear that, Jim?" remarked Max.
"Yep. But reckons as how it ain't a-goin' tuh do we uns any good," answered
the boy, dejectedly.
"Why not? By that time your dad's leg ought to be fairly well. And a couple
of us boys could take him down to Carson soon in one of our boats."
Jim looked into the face of his kind friend while Max was speaking. There
were tears in the little chap's eyes.
"Reckon yuh done forget, mistah!" he sighed.
"Now you mean about the trouble your dad fell into on account of that old
farmer; is that it, Jim?" demanded Max.
The boy nodded his head in a forlorn fashion.
"How long ago was this, Jim--about a month?" Max asked.
"Reckon she be all o' that, mistah."
"And did you hear the name of the old farmer whose house had been robbed,
Jim?"
"I never done forgot that. I seems tuh heah it whispered by every leetle
wind thet blows. Wenever I waked up in the night it kim a-stealin' along
past the ledge o' rock, an' makin' me shiver, I tell yuh. He was a orful
hard-lookin' ole man, mistah."
"But perhaps not quite so hard as he seemed, Jim. Was that name Griffin,
Jim?" asked Max.
"Yep," piped the boy, shivering; "an heah's them two bag o' mussels, jest
whar yuh left 'em."
"All right, Jim. I didn't expect they'd be stolen. Now listen to what I
say, Jim."
"Yas, suh."
"When you go back to your dad tell him I said he needn't be afraid to show
himself in Carson, or any other town around these diggings; because the
tramp who robbed old Griffin's place was caught, and all the stuff found on
him!"
"That's right," interrupted Bandy-legs, anxious to have a part in the
developments; "and I saw the Chief of Police bring him into town, too. He
was sure a tough-looking case. Your dad looks like a gentleman beside that
hobo thief."
"Old Griffin is a just man," Max went on. "I'm sure he's felt sorry for
treating your father as roughly as he did, without having any evidence
against him. And if you two showed up at his place to-day chances are he'd
take you both in and give you jobs."
"But," said Bandy-legs, "there ain't no need of that. I'm bent on seeing
Tom Jones get that vacancy on the local paper."
"Is Tom Jones your father's real name?" asked Max. "You needn't be afraid
to say, Jim, because nobody is going to harm him now."
"It's Thomas Archer. He kin talk jest as good as you kin, wen he wants tuh
to do it. But the fellers we tramps with done lawf at him, so he larns tuh
talk like they does. But yuh done makes me happy, tell yuh, mistah. Glad
now I waited on the trail foh yuh."
"You belong down South, don't you, Jim?" asked Max.
"Reckon Nawth Car'liny was the place I was borned into this world, suh, but
I don't jest see how yuh guessed that," the boy answered.
"Never mind. Suppose you trot along with us to our camp now. I'd like to
send back a few things, like coffee and bacon, for your dad and you."
Jim could only clutch the hand of Max when he said this and squeeze it. But
the other felt something moist drop on the back of his hand, and was sure
it must be a tear.
The boys were once more taken in charge, and their interrupted march along
the trail resumed.
When they entered the camp various were the exclamations of surprise from
the three who had been left in charge.
Of course a perfect rain of questions followed, and for some time both Max
and his fellow laborers in the shellfish industry were kept busily
employed answering these interrogations.
Finally, as the sun was sinking low, Jim was allowed to depart, fairly
laden with the various good things which the campers insisted on sending
to the unfortunate tramp printer.
"We can spare them easy enough," Max had remarked.
"Sure we can, and more, too," echoed Owen.
"B-b-besides, we've b-b-been so lucky, you k-k-know, in our hunt for
p-p-pearls, we ought to be g-g-g-g--"
Again came the usual pounding on the back, which produced no results; but
as soon as Toby could pucker up his lips, so as to whistle, he immediately
calmed down enough to shout at the top of his voice:
"Generous--there!"
"Well, I should say we could," observed Steve, rubbing his hands together
exultantly. "Even if we did lose that first beaut of a gem, haven't we
still got three elegant ones? And perhaps you fellows may have fetched the
mate of the lost one along in this last batch. You never can tell."
Max could not help looking toward Owen, who raised his eyebrows after a
peculiar fashion that could only stand for bewilderment.
Steve certainly had these three loyal chums guessing. But Max was fully
determined that the mystery must not remain such over another night, if he
could arrange matters so that the solution might be hastened.
To this end he presently started to assist Bandy-legs open their catch of
the afternoon, Steve and Toby being engaged in getting supper.
Another prize rewarded their search, a pearl not so fine as the one Steve
had discovered, but so perfect in shape, and so milk-white in color, that
they agreed it ranked with any of the rest in value.
So Max was very careful to wrap this last prize up in some paper, and
thrust it into the haversack, with all his comrades looking on, especially
Steve. The latter stared as usual, as though fascinated by the sight of the
beautiful gem.
"He'll try again, my word on it," whispered Bandy-legs in the ear of Max;
whereupon the other put a finger on his lips to enjoin silence.
The five boys spent the evening as usual in merry conversation and song.
All seemed to be in high spirits, even Steve joining with a vim in the
school songs so dear to their hearts.
Then, as the hour grew later, they began to yawn; and first Toby crawled
inside the tent, then Owen, and finally Steve, Bandy-legs, and Max.
Apparently the idea of keeping guard over the camp had been abandoned, now
that they knew Jim and his father were honest.
A long time passed, with only the heavy breathing of the boys to disturb
the silence. The fire, prepared by Max ere he turned in, continued to burn
briskly.
It must have been midnight again when Owen felt the hand of his cousin
shake him, and, raising his head a little, he saw that there was something
doing.