BARE-FACED ROBBERY IN THE MAINE WOODS.
Three men were bending over the dead deer, and all of them carried
rifles. They were a rough-looking set, all told; and any one would know
at a glance that they could not be city sportsmen, up here in the Maine
woods on a hunt; but must belong to the native class of guides, loggers,
or possibly something worse.
One of them was in truth a giant; and as soon as Thad set eyes on this
individual he knew that his worst fears were about to be realized. This
could be no other than the big poacher, Old Cale Martin, the man whom
the game wardens seemed to dread like poison, and had never yet dared
arrest, though his breaking of the laws had become notorious all through
that section where he roamed.
Despite his sensation of acute alarm, Thad surveyed the man with more or
less interest and curiosity. He had heard so much about his doings that
he would have actually felt a certain degree of disappointment had he
gone away from Maine and never met Cale Martin.
Then, what Jim Hasty had told him, added to his desire to look upon the
face of Little Lina's awful father.
No doubt Step Hen must also have jumped at some sort of right conclusion
with regard to the identity of the three men. The unusual size of the
leader was quite enough in itself to tell who they must be.
Thad did not halt long upon sighting the others, but walked forward.
Even though poachers, this did not mean that the three men were
desperate outlaws by any means. No doubt they walked in and out of the
villages in this extreme northern section of the State, and were greeted
by those who knew them as fellow guides, though seldom were any of them
employed in such a capacity nowadays.
Step Hen tagged at the heels of his chum. He did not know what Thad
might be going to do; but although white of face just then, with a
sudden fear of trouble, at least Step Hen showed no sign of running
away.
The three men looked up as the boys approached. All of them seemed to be
grinning, as though amused. But while the big man really looked somewhat
as a mastiff might appear to a little terrier, his two companions had a
sneer on their dark, evil faces that gave Thad more or less uneasiness.
He knew that while Step Hen was entitled to that fine buck, the chances
were his claim would never be considered for a single minute. Might made
right in the Maine woods, with men of this stamp.
"Hullo! younkers, lookin' arter yer deer, hey?" remarked the giant, as
the boys boldly approached. "Wall, they hain't any, d'ye see? We got a
fine leetle buck here as Si fetched down with his big bore cannon; only
fur him the deer's been in ther next county afore now, eh, Si?" and the
giant as he said this, turned on the man who wore the greasy suit of
buckskin, and sported a coonskin cap, after the style of the old-time
hunters, now so nearly extinct.
"That's right, Cale, he'd a ben agoin' like two-forty yet, on'y for the
ounce of lead I throwed into him on the jump. I guess as haow that
leetle pepper box jest tickled him a mite, an' made him feel frisky.
Step right up, an' take a look at _my_ buck, ef so be yeou wanter,
strangers; I hain't begrudgin' yeou that much conserlation; but doan't
yeou be sayin' yeou had any hand in knockin' him over, 'cause I don't
stand fur any foolishness, see?"
He looked particularly ugly when saying this last, and Thad knew there
was not the slightest shadow of a chance that they would get justice
from these fellows. Seeing the sadly wounded deer plunging blindly
toward them, Si had fired at the animal, and now they claimed to own the
prize!
Well, there was no use trying to make a fuss over it; two boys could
hardly expect to overawe three such hardened woods' rangers as these.
Nevertheless, for his own satisfaction Thad accepted the rude invitation
of Si Kedge to advance closer, so that he could stand over the deer.
Something caught his eye as he looked, and bending down he deftly took
the object from the motionless body of the deer, just back of the
shoulder, where a patch of blood appeared.
Thad held the object up so that all could see. Even Step Hen recognized
it as the mushroomed bullet that had been fired from his rifle. The
evidence was as positive and clear as noonday; for that bullet, after
spreading out, had bored completely through the body of the buck, and
was ready to drop from the other side when it caught the sharp eye of
Thad. And that other wound in the neck must have been where the boasted
large calibre bullet from Si's big gun had gone, producing only a
superficial hurt that would not have seriously inconvenienced the sturdy
buck.
"Oh! that's my bullet!" exclaimed Step Hen, hardly comprehending what a
storm his words might bring about their ears; "and just as you said,
Thad, I hit him in the side where his heart lies. That would have killed
him in a short time, I just guess, don't you, Thad?"
But Thad did not make any answer. He was keeping his eyes on the three
men, even while dropping the spread-out bullet into his pocket to show
it to Eli and Jim and Allan when they returned to camp, as proof that
the glory of killing the fine six-pronged buck really belonged to Step
Hen.
The giant actually gave a little chuckle. Evidently he admired the nerve
shown by this half-grown lad; for like most big men Cale Martin could on
occasion, exhibit a sense of generosity toward those smaller than
himself.
With just that brief chance to see what the three poachers looked like,
Thad was able to size them up along different lines. He believed that Si
and Ed were both shallow brained bullies, with revengeful natures; but
that Cale Martin, while known as a desperate man, was really more so
through his association with such rascals as these, than for any other
cause. And Thad chanced to know just why he had doubly earned this
reputation for ugliness during the last year or so; Jim Hasty's running
away with his little girl, Lina, had been the last straw that broke the
camel's back; since it had made Old Cale feel reckless, and as though he
cared no longer for anything in this world.
"What d'ye think of that, Si," burst out the other fellow, who had not
spoken, up to now; "the pesky critter is aclaimin' as how his friend
sent that bullet through ther buck's ribs, w'en we all know 'twar from
yer gun."
The shorter poacher gritted his teeth, and looked daggers at Thad. He
even made a significant movement with his heavy rifle, which the boy saw
was of the repeating pattern, and had the hammer raised at that moment.
"I doan't stand for any sech talk ez that," he declared, with savage
energy; "an' ef ther cubs knows what is good fur 'em, they'll turn tail,
an' mosey outen this here region some quick. Scat naow! an' be mighty
keerful haow yeou start tew claimin' a deer agin, what another man shot.
It's sumpin that ain't goin' ter be allowed up here in the woods. I
gives yeou fair warnin' tew change base, an' clar out."
"Come on, Thad, let's move along!" exclaimed Step Hen, who was white in
the face, and trembling more or less.
Of course, the patrol leader was far too smart to think of trying to
defy that ugly lot. At the same time Thad showed no sign of fear as he
turned and gave the bully of the woods one sneering look, as though
plainly telling him what he thought. Indeed, it seemed to stir the ire
of the man who claimed to have killed the deer, for with a snort, he
started to throw up his gun, as if bent on threatening mischief, unless
the boys ran in a hurry.
But it was the hand of the giant that grasped the gun, and turned it
aside.
"Don't ye try it, Si," roared Old Cale. "We done enuff as 'tis, atakin'
ther game away from 'em, without layin' a hand on ther hides. But ye'd
better skip out, as Si sez, younkers. An' say, wile I think o' it, jest
tell thet sneak, Jim Hasty, fur me, thet I'm agoin' ter keep my word
'bout them ears o' his'n. I'll larn him what it means ter defy Old Cale
Martin."
For the life of him Thad could not help making some sort of reply to
this.
"I'll carry your message, just as you say," he went on; "but let me tell
you right here and now, you never made a bigger mistake in your life
when you call Jim Hasty a sneak or a coward. Would a coward dare come up
here, when he knew how you hated him, and had it in for him? I guess not
much. Fact is, Jim's got a message for you; somebody's sent him up here!
And he meant to hunt you up, and see you face to face. A coward! Well, I
guess not."
And without giving the giant a chance to say another word Thad wheeled,
striding away, with the nervous Step Hen at his side, casting many an
anxious glance back over his shoulder, as though not quite convinced
that the warlike Si might not think it best after all to shoot after
them.
But ten minutes later, and the two boys were well away from the spot
which had come very near looking upon a tragedy.
"How do you feel about it now?" asked Thad.
"What do you mean?" inquired the other. "I'm as sore as can be about
losing my lovely six-pronged buck, and knocked over all by myself, too.
Wouldn't I just like to give it to that low-down liar of a Si Kedge,
though, for saying that was his bullet, when anybody could see that it
came from my rifle? Why, he only pinked the deer in the neck, because I
could see the mark. Oh! the thieves, the miserable skunks, to cheat me
out of my prize! I'll never, never get over this, Thad!"
"Oh! yes you will, Step Hen," remarked the other, soothingly, for he
felt that the bare-faced robbery had been a terrible shock to his
companion. "But what I meant when I asked that, was, do you want to head
toward camp now; have you had enough hunting for to-day?"
"Now, I know you're saying that, Thad, just to let me down easy,"
declared the other. "I acknowledge that I was beginning to get tired, up
to the time I killed that deer; but it's all passed away now. The
excitement did it for me; and I've got my second wind."
"Then you want to keep on hunting?" asked the scoutmaster, feeling that
Step Hen was exhibiting considerable grit under the circumstances, and
delighted to see this same brought out by the ill turn fortune had given
him.
"Sure I do," instantly replied the other. "I'm just wild to get another
chance to knock over a six-pronged buck; and now that I know the ropes,
it's easy as falling off a log. Looks like this snow ain't agoing to
amount to much, after all; and we've got pretty nearly half a day ahead
of us yet. So let's keep on for a while. When I get a little tired,
we'll stop to eat our snack of grub, when I can rest up, and be ready
for another hour or two. But I'm afraid my luck has turned, and we won't
sight another deer this blessed day; do you, Thad?"
"We'll hope to, at any rate," replied the other, as he started off
again; "and it's that constant expectation of starting up game that
makes hunting all it's cracked up to be. So come along, Step Hen; and if
we fail to bring in our share of venison it won't be because we lay down
too easy. Now for quiet again, remember, and keep a constant lookout
ahead."