THE SMUGGLER’S DAUGHTER.
In the captain’s private room Frank Merriwell stripped off his wet
clothes. The captain provided him with a dry suit of underclothes,
a pair of trousers, socks and a woolen shirt. His coat, vest, shoes
and hat were brought him, and he made a very respectable appearance
when he came out.
In the meantime, in another room the girl was making such changes
as were possible.
It was nearly an hour later when Frank found her seated on the
sunny side of the boat, wrapped in a blanket and holding the little
dog in her arms. On her head was a handsome hat, and her hair had
been dried and combed. She laughed when she saw him.
“Why,” she exclaimed, “no one would know you had been in the water!
As for me, my dress is ruined. It was fortunate I had other dresses
aboard and I could get to my trunk. I was so chilled that I came
out here and kept this blanket about me at first. I don’t need it
now.”
She let the blanket slip from her shoulders, and Merry was amazed
to find her dressed in another suit that was quite as stylish and
handsome as the first. Again she seemed to read his thoughts, for
she said:
“I’m just back from Boston, you know. Father lets me go up twice a
year, and I always get a full supply of clothing while I am there.
That’s how I happened to have a trunkful on board.
“You were fortunate.”
“Wasn’t I? Bring that stool and sit here by me. It’s delightful in
the afternoon sunshine.”
Frank was ready enough to do as she directed, and soon he was
seated at her side, chatting with her freely. She thanked him
earnestly for what he had done, and again declared she could never
forget it. They laughed over the adventure, as if it had been of no
consequence.
She was lively company, as he soon found, and she made that hour
spent thus with her pass most pleasantly and swiftly. She was
witty, too, and only occasionally did she drop into slang.
After a time, Merry thought he would try to discover how much
she really knew. Her language seemed to indicate that she was
intelligent, but he was surprised to find her something of a
scholar and a great reader.
“You see, reading is nearly all the amusement I have at home,” she
said; “and so, whenever I go to the city, I buy a stack of the
latest books. I have a large box of books on the way down home now.”
He found she had read something besides the ordinary gushing love
story, for she could talk with him of “David Copperfield,” “Vanity
Fair,” “Ivanhoe,” “The Scarlet Letter,” and so forth. But he was
most surprised when she informed him that Stevenson’s “Treasure
Island” was her favorite book.
“There is something about the men in that book that attracts me,”
she declared. “I have seen such men as Silver and Israel Hands.”
“You have?” cried Frank. “Why, they were desperate characters!”
“Well, you can find desperate characters not far from here. You are
on ‘the line’ now. It’s easy for a man who commits a crime to cross
over and get away.”
“Where do you live, if I may ask?”
“On Blank Island.”
“Where is that? Anywhere near Forest City?”
“North of Forest City. It is on ‘the line,’ so they say; one-half
the island is in Maine and one-half in New Brunswick.”
Frank was more than ever astonished, for it seemed most amazing
that such a girl could live on an island away up there in the lake.
He did not wish to seem too curious, and so he did not ask other
questions just then.
But she took her turn, for she led him to tell how he came to
be there. She listened attentively to his story of adventures
around Moosehead. He told how Hans had been taken ill, and they
had stopped at Brownville. He explained how he had acquired the
handsome rifle, and how it had been stolen from him by a man named
Enos Dugan, whom he had pursued to the Grand Lake region.
“Perhaps you know something about Enos Dugan?” he said, in
conclusion.
“Yes,” she slowly answered; “I do.”
“What can you tell me about him?”
“He is a second Long Jim Silver. You had better give up this
pursuit.”
“So I was told at Vanceborough; but I vowed that I would have that
rifle, and I will!”
“You may lose your life instead of recovering the rifle. Enos Dugan
is a man to shun.”
“I have heard that he is a smuggler. Do you know if it is true?”
“I believe they tell such things about him, but it is hard to
prove. In fact, it is next to impossible to prove anything against
him. He will soon find out you have followed him, if he does not
know it now, and you will be in terrible peril. I beg you to give
up this search and go back at once!”
Her earnestness was impressive. All the laughter was gone from her
face now, and she was looking at him with those dark eyes in a
manner that stirred his heart, for he realized that she was moved
by feelings which her eyes revealed, despite herself.
Her hand, now neatly gloved, rested on his arm, and it trembled a
little.
“Promise me you will do as I ask?” she urged.
“I can’t promise you that,” he said, gravely. “I cannot break my
vow.”
“Not even for me?”
“Please don’t put it that way! You will make me seem rude, and it
seems that I have proved that I am ready to do almost anything
for you--even get wet. I shall be forced to appear at a decided
disadvantage if you urge me.”
“You are obstinate!” she cried.
“No; simply determined.”
“It’s the same thing. I am sorry you came here--yes, sorry, though
this has been a pleasant hour!”
She uttered the words in a desperate way, and then she leaned
toward Frank till she was very close to him, her handsome face
upturned pleadingly, and made a last appeal.
As she was thus, speaking swiftly in a low tone, Elder Jones, who
had been sulking by himself ever since she had given him the cold
shoulder after the rescue, came around from the stern, and stopped,
looking straight at them.
To him it must have seemed that Frank and the girl were
astonishingly intimate on short acquaintance, for their postures
were almost lover-like, the girl’s being especially so. He did not
understand her words, but he knew she was pleading with Frank.
The face of the minister grew livid with rage, and he seemed to
shake in every limb. He stood there staring some seconds, and then
he turned about and walked away. As he disappeared, what sounded
like an oath came to Frank’s ears.
“It’s too bad!” exclaimed Merry. “Now he is furious!”
“Who cares!” came recklessly from the girl. “He is nothing to me.
I never promised to marry him, and I never will. Once I thought I
might, but I have changed my mind since--since--a little while ago.”
Frank understood her, and he realized that he was in a very
awkward position. His bravery in rescuing the girl, his chat with
her, his general manliness, had led her to fall in love with him.
He looked at her, and she saw that he had read her secret. The hot
color came to her face with a rush and swept down her neck.
“I am a fool!” she exclaimed, angrily. “I don’t know what you will
think of me! I can’t help it; think what you like. I was brought
up in the woods, and a few years at boarding school have not made
me strictly proper and conventional. I hate shams and deceptions!
There! As long as you will not do what I wish, I must do what I can
for you, and you may find me a friend worth having. Perhaps I can
recover that rifle for you without trouble. I will try it. Do you
know, although we seem well acquainted now, I have not even learned
your name?”
“And I am equally at a disadvantage in regard to you. My name is
Frank Merriwell.”
“I like the sound of that name. It seems to fit you. Mr. Merriwell,
I will try to recover your rifle for you. If you will come up to
Blank Island to-morrow afternoon, I think I will have it for you.”
Now Merriwell was astounded.
“Why, how can that be?” he cried.
“Never mind. Come to-morrow afternoon. Will you?”
“Why--of course--yes----”
“I have your promise. Here is Forest City, and the boat is going
to stop. You had better get off here. I will leave it at the
island. Good-by.”
The little steamer was swinging in to the landing at the
settlement. But, just then, Frank Merriwell had eyes for no one
save the handsome girl at his side. She held out her hand and he
took it. He started a bit, realizing she had removed the glove from
that hand, and it was warm and plump in his grasp.
“Good-by!” she whispered.
“But there is one thing you have forgotten,” said Frank, hastily,
looking down into her eyes and feeling himself drawn toward her by
a strange attraction.
“What is it?”
“Your name.”
“So I did.”
The boat swung gently in to the landing, was made fast, and the
plank run out.
“She will not stop here long,” said the girl.
“But your name?” urged Frank. “You have not told me yet.”
“It is Hilda.”
“Hilda what?”
“Isn’t Hilda enough?”
“No! no! Tell me your whole name!”
“Well, then, it is Hilda Dugan!”
“Dugan? Is it possible that----”
“Yes; it is possible. I am the daughter of Enos Dugan; but I am
your friend just the same, Frank Merriwell. Come to the island
to-morrow afternoon. I will wait for you. Good-by.”