A NIGHT ADVENTURE.
“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.
“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 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, 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 next.
“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 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 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
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 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 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 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
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
it” stammered Jake, 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 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 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?”
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 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 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 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 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
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 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 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 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 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.