MORE TROUBLE FOR TOM BIGDEN.
While on his way from his camp to the hatchery Tom Bigden had kept as
close to the beach as the depth of the water would permit, looking
everywhere for Matt Coyle, but without seeing any thing of him. Better
luck, however, awaited him on his return, for when he came opposite to
a lonely part of the beach, near the spot on which their former
interview was held, he saw the squatter step cautiously out the bushes
and beckon to him. No doubt the man was surprised at the readiness
with which Tom brought his canoe around and headed it for the shore.
“Say,” exclaimed Matt, when Tom had come within speaking distance.
“I’m powerful glad to see you, ’cause I want to let you know that I
can’t wait no ten days for them fifty dollars. I must have it to
onct.”
“What’s your hurry?” asked Tom. He did not exhibit any signs of anger,
although the man was even more peremptory and domineering than he had
been before. Tom knew that the squatter’s triumph would be of short
duration, and he could afford to let him be as insolent as he pleased.
“I’m goin’ to buy some furnitur’ of Rube, an’ he won’t let it go
less’n he gets the cash in his hands first,” answered Matt.
“What do you want of furniture while you are living in Rube’s house?
Why can’t you use his?”
“How do you happen to know that I am livin’ into Rube’s house?”
demanded the squatter, opening his eyes.
“Why, every body knows it,” replied Tom, carelessly. “It is pretty
well known, too, that you narrowly escaped capture when the sheriff’s
posse surrounded that house the other morning. Where are you living
now, and what has become of Jake?”
“Say,” replied Matt, speaking in the confidential tone that had so
exasperated Tom on a former occasion. “I don’t mind telling you all
about it. Things is gettin’ too public around Rube’s house to suit us,
an’, besides, we don’t think he’s the friend to us that he pertends to
be; so we’re goin’ to take to the bresh, an’ there we’re goin’ to
stay. I want some chairs an’ bed fixin’s to furnish my shanty, when I
get it built. Rube’s got ’em, but he wants the ready money for ’em. I
seen you when you was down there to the hatchery, an’ that’s the
reason I come up here to ketch you.”
“All right,” said Tom. “How soon can you produce those guns?”
“I can have ’em here to-morrer mornin’ by sun-up.”
“That’s too early for me,” replied Tom. “We have breakfast about six,
and I can get here by seven; I will be here.”
“Not to-morrer?” exclaimed Matt.
“Yes, to-morrow.”
“But you said you would have to go to Mount Airy after the money.”
“I have seen my cousins since then, and I find that it will not be
necessary for me to go home.”
“Have you got the money?” said Matt, eagerly.
Tom winked first one eye and then the other.
“There, now. I knowed you had it all the time; but you kind of thought
you could beat me in some way or other, an’ that you could get out of
buyin’ them guns. But you know better now, don’t you? I want to be
friends with you, but I tell you, pine-plank, that I won’t stand no
nonsense. I’ll tell on you sure, if you—”
“Now, don’t switch off on that track, for if you do I’ll not listen to
another word,” said Tom, angrily; and to show that he was in earnest
he pushed his canoe away from the beach and turned the bow up the
lake.
Then there was a short pause, during which Matt stood with his hands
on his hips and his eyes fastened searchingly upon the boy’s face. It
was beginning to dawn upon him that Tom was a trifle more independent
than he had been.
“Say,” he growled at last. “What trick are you up to?”
“Why, what makes you think I am up to any trick?” asked Tom,
innocently. “You said you wanted me to buy those guns for fifty
dollars; and I say I will be ready to do it to-morrow morning. Is
there any trick about that?”
“You’re goin’ to bring a constable with you,” Matt almost shouted. The
thought popped into his head suddenly, and made him dance with rage.
“I shall come alone,” was the quiet reply.
“There ain’t no one constable in the Injun Lake country that can take
me up,” Matt went on, furiously. “But if you do bring one on ’em with
you, I’ll tell him that you was knowin’ to my stealin’ of that canvas
canoe.”
“What’s the use of lashing yourself into a tempest for nothing?” said
Tom, coolly. “You can hide in the bushes, and if you see any one with
me you need not come out. I’ll be here at seven o’clock, and when you
put those two guns into my canoe I will put fifty dollars in
greenbacks into your hand. Is that the understanding?”
“Don’t you want me to hide ’em a piece back in the bresh so’t you can
say that you found ’em?” inquired Matt, in rather more civil tones.
“No; I want you to put them into my canoe. I will find them there,
won’t I? Is it a bargain or not?”
“It’s a bargain. I’ll be here; an’ if you ain’t—”
The squatter did not say what he would do if Tom failed to appear at
the appointed hour, for the latter did not linger to listen to him. He
put his canoe in motion again and pulled toward the point above, while
Matt backed up to a log and took his pipe from his pocket.
“Something’s wrong somewheres,” he told himself, as he filled up for a
smoke. “He didn’t act that-a-way t’other day, but was as humble as a
hound purp that had jest been licked. Now, what’s in the wind, do you
reckon? Has he been snoopin’ round in the woods an’ found them
six—whoop!”
The bare thought that perhaps Tom had stumbled upon the valises, and
intended paying him for the stolen guns out of the money that Matt
regarded as his own, was enough to drive the man frantic. He sprang to
his feet, jammed his pipe into his pocket, caught up his rifle, which
he had placed behind a convenient tree, and dashed into the bushes.
“I wonder how Mr. Coyle feels by this time,” chuckled Tom, as he
rounded the point and left the place of meeting out of sight. “My face
must be an awful tell-tale, for Matt knew there was something up as
soon as he looked at me. I expect to have a time with him to-morrow.”
With this reflection Tom dismissed Matt Coyle from his mind, and
thought of Jake and the extraordinary trick to which he had resorted
to gain possession of those valises and their contents. He certainly
did know more when he arrived at camp than he did when he went away in
the morning, and he had so much to tell that it was almost supper time
before the dinner was served. Another sleepless night, a single cup of
coffee in the morning, and Tom was ready for what he fondly hoped
would be his last interview with Matt Coyle.
“I am afraid you are going into danger,” said Ralph, anxiously. “I
shall not draw an easy breath until I see you coming back. Be very
careful, and don’t let him get the slightest advantage of you.”
Although Tom was in no very enviable frame of mind, he made reply to
the effect that he knew just what he was going to do, for he had
thought it all over while his cousins were wrapped in slumber, and
then he sat down in his canoe and paddled away. His heart beat a
little faster than usual when he came within sight of the place where
he was to meet the squatter. The latter was not to be seen; but as Tom
backed water with his paddle, and brought his canoe to a stand-still a
few feet from shore, he came out of the bushes and showed himself.
Acting upon the hint Tom had given him the day before, Matt kept
concealed long enough to make sure that the boy had not brought an
officer with him for company. Tom was really amazed when he looked at
him. Instead of the angry, half-crazy man he expected to meet, he saw
before him (if there were any faith to be put in appearances) one of
the jolliest, happiest mortals in existence. His face was one broad
smile, and he rubbed his soiled and begrimed palms together as if he
already held between them the greenbacks which he thought Tom carried
in his pocket.
“That’s all gammon. He has laid a trap for me,” soliloquized the boy;
and, alarmed by the thought, he gave a quick, strong stroke with the
double paddle that sent the canoe ten feet farther away from the
beach. Matt saw and understood, and for a brief moment a savage scowl
took the place of the smile he had put on for the occasion. But it
cleared away as quickly as it came, and then Matt smiled again.
“Have you got it?” said he, in insinuating tones. “Have you brung the
money with you?”
For an answer Tom winked his left eye.
“I’m powerful glad to hear it,” said Matt. “Come ashore an’ we’ll soon
settle this business.”
“Where are the guns?”
“Back in the woods a piece. I hid ’em in the bresh, ’cause I thought
that mebbe you would rather take ’em out yourself, so’t you could say
you found ’em without tellin’ no lie about it. See?”
“That isn’t according to the agreement we made yesterday,” replied
Tom. “I told you, as plainly as I could speak it, that you must put
the guns into my canoe and I would find them there.”
“Well, how be I goin’ to put ’em in your canoe while you keep it
twenty feet from shore?” demanded Matt. “You come up closter.”
“You go and get the guns. It will be time enough for me to get in
closer when I see that you have got them.”
“An’ it will be time enough for me to get the guns when I see that you
have brung the money with you,” retorted Matt, who was getting so
angry that he could with difficulty control himself.
Tom laid his paddle across his knee and took a purse from his pocket,
all the while keeping a sharp watch upon Matt Coyle, who had moved
down the beach, inch by inch, until he was now standing in the edge of
the water. Taking from the purse a small roll of bills, Tom held it up
before his right eye and winked at the squatter with the other.
“There’s money; now where are the guns?” said he. “I thought you were
in a great hurry to have the business settled.”
“I don’t believe there’s any fifty dollars in that there little wad of
greenbacks,” replied Matt. “Lemme see you count ’em out on your knee.”
Instead of complying with this request, Tom shut up the purse and put
it into his pocket. When Matt saw that, he could no longer restrain
himself. With a sound that was more like a roar than a shout, he
jumped into the water, his arms extended and his fingers spread out
like the claws of some wild beast, and made a long plunge in the hope
of seizing upon the gunwale of Tom’s canoe. But the boy was on the
alert. With one stroke of the paddle he sent the canoe far out of
reach, and in a second more Matt was floundering in water that was
over his head. Knowing that he could not overtake Tom by swimming, he
gave vent to his fury in a volley of oaths, and went back to the
beach; whereupon Tom also returned, and took up his old position.
“It seems that you are the one that is up to tricks,” said he, smiling
in spite of himself at the ludicrous figure Matt Coyle presented in
his dripping garments. “Now, when you get ready, I should like to have
you tell me what you meant by trying to get hold of my canoe?”
“Why didn’t you count out the money on your knee, like I told you,
so’t I could be sure you had brung the fifty dollars?” roared Matt,
shaking both his clenched hands at Tom.
“Didn’t I take your word for it when you told me that you had the
guns? Very well; you will have to take mine when I say that I am ready
to carry out my part of the agreement when you carry out yours. Show
me the guns; that’s all I ask of you. Look here; do you know where
those guns are at this moment?”
“No, I don’t,” answered Matt, blurting out the truth before he
thought.
“So I supposed. Well, I do. When the sheriff and his posse were coming
home, after capturing those bank robbers, they found Joe Wayring’s
canvas canoe, and likewise the Lefever hammerless and Winchester
rifle.”
[Illustration: TOM BIGDEN BLOCKS MATT COYLE’S GAME.]
“Whoop!” yelled the squatter. “’Tain’t so, nuther. They wasn’t all hid
in the same place.”
“I know it,” replied Tom, who knew just nothing at all about it. The
canvas canoe might have been concealed in that hollow log and Tom and
his cousins would have been none the wiser for it; because after the
guns had been brought to light they did not look for any thing else.
“You must remember that there were several men in that posse, and that
they could cover a good deal of ground in an hour’s time. They
searched every inch of those woods, and found—”
Matt opened his mouth and gasped for breath.
“Did they—did they find—”
“No,” answered Tom, who knew what Matt would have said if he could.
“They did not find any money. Your Jake is the only one who knows
where that is.”
“I know where it is, too,” said the squatter, whose lip quivered as if
he had half a mind to cry about it. “But the trouble is that I can’t
find it.”
“Then if you can’t find it you don’t know where it is.”
“I tell you I do too. It’s up there in the same woods that the canoe
an’ guns was hid in,” cried Matt, once more speaking a little too
hastily.
It was now Tom’s turn to open his eyes. After a little reflection he
said—
“If you think the money is in that particular part of the woods, why
don’t you go there and stay till you find it? Or else make Jake show
you where it is.”
“But Jakey won’t do it. He ain’t that sort of a boy.”
“Then denounce him to the sheriff.”
“What’s that?”
“Why, expose him; tell on him. I’ll bet you he will be quite willing
to reveal the hiding-place of those valises when he feels an officer’s
grip on his collar.”
“But what good will that do me? The constable who takes Jakey up will
get the reward that’s been offered, an’ I shan’t see none of it.
Whoop!” shouted Matt, going off into another paroxysm of rage. “Every
thing an’ every body seems to be goin’ agin me this mornin’.”
“Well, then,” said Tom, who had the strongest of reasons for hoping
that the squatter might never fall into the clutches of the law, “if I
were in your place, I would have a serious talk with Jake. I’d tell
him that he is sure to be arrested, sooner or later, that it is
preposterous for him to think he can keep the money, and urge him to
give it up and claim a portion of the reward. Some of it will have to
go to the officers who found the robbers, you know. If you will do
that, I will promise that Joe Wayring will not prosecute you for
stealing his canoe.”
“’Taint no ways likely that Joe would do a favor for you,” said Matt,
in a discouraged tone, “’cause you an’ him don’t hitch.”
“I know we don’t like each other any too well, but I can say a word
for you, all the same. I don’t know that I can do any good here, so I
will go back to camp. I came down according to agreement, but I knew I
shouldn’t make any thing by it. You held fast to those guns too long.
They have been found, and your hundred dollars are up stump.”
“If you knowed it, why did you pester me that-a-way for?” demanded the
squatter, growing angry again.
“Why did you tell me you had the guns hidden a little way back in the
woods when you hadn’t?” asked Tom, in reply. “I saw through your game
at once. Your object was to get me ashore and rob me. You would have
committed a State’s prison offense; but I shall not say any thing
about it unless you wag your tongue too freely about me. If you do
that, look out for yourself.”
So saying, Tom turned his canoe about and started for camp, well
satisfied with the result of his interview with the squatter. He had
kept his temper in spite of strong provocation, and made Matt believe
that he was in no way responsible for the loss of the guns. More than
that, he had given him good honest advice, and kept up a show of
friendship by making a promise he did not mean to fulfill.
“I’d like to see myself asking a favor of that Joe Wayring,” said he,
with a sneer. “It would please him too well, and I wouldn’t do it
under any circumstances. My object was to leave Matt in good humor, if
I could. Of course he was mad because he did not get the money, but
not as mad as he would have been if he had succeeded in getting hold
of the canoe. If he had done that, I calculated to give him such a rap
over the head with my paddle that he wouldn’t get over it for a month.
I don’t think I shall have any more trouble with him this season. Next
vacation I shall steer clear of Indian Lake, and take my outing
somewhere else.”
Ralph Farnsworth and his brother were so very much concerned about Tom
that they did not do any camp work after he went away. As soon as he
was out of sight, they sat down on the bank close to the water’s edge,
and there they remained for four long, anxious hours before Tom came
around the point and showed himself to them. When he saw them waiting
for him he took off his cap and waved it in triumph over his head.
“He was awful mad, and, after trying in vain to get me out on shore so
that he could take my money away from me, he rushed into the water and
made a grab at the canoe,” said Tom, as he ran the bow of his little
craft upon the beach. “But, after all, I didn’t have as much of a time
with him as I thought I should. There’s your purse, Ralph. Now, if one
of you will dish up a good dinner, I think I can do justice to it. I
haven’t had much appetite for a day or two past, but I am ravenously
hungry now.”
With these preliminary remarks Tom Bigden took possession of one of
the hammocks and told his story from beginning to end, saying, in
conclusion—
“That part of the woods seems to be a repository for Matt Coyle’s
stolen goods. If we had looked a little farther we might have found
that money.”
“I wish we had,” said Loren. “Of course we should have laid no claim
to a share of the reward. We would have given our portion to the
guides, and perhaps gained their good will by it. Every time we go to
the hotel after supplies or mail I notice that they look at us
cross-eyed, as if they thought we were good fellows to let alone.”
“And what makes them do it?” Tom almost shouted. “It is because Joe
Wayring and his friends have gained Swan’s ears, and stuffed him full
of lies about us. Ugh! How I should like to see that boy taken
down—clear down; as far as any body can go by land. Say,” he added,
after cooling off a little, “I am ready to give up the guns now. Matt
Coyle may believe that Swan and his party found them at the time they
found Wayring’s canoe, and he may not. At any rate, I do not like to
take the risk of his jumping down on our camp some dark night and
finding them here. So I propose that we get rid of them this very
afternoon.”
The others agreeing, and a bountiful dinner having been disposed of,
the three boys stepped into their canoes and set out for Indian Lake,
taking the guns with them. A more astonished and delighted man than
Mr. Hanson was when they walked into his office and laid the cases
upon his desk Tom and his cousins had seldom seen; but the language in
which he expressed his gratitude for the service they had rendered him
almost made Tom wish that he had held fast to the guns a little
longer. After asking when, and where, and how they had found them, and
listening with the liveliest interest to their story, Mr. Hanson said—
“That villain Coyle shall be arrested to-morrow, if I have unemployed
guides enough in my pay to find him. I should have been after him two
weeks ago, if it hadn’t been for these guns; and now that I’ve got
them I shall not fool with him a day longer. You have fairly earned
the reward,” he added, opening his money drawer, “and I am
authorized—”
“We don’t need money, Mr. Hanson, and we’ll not touch a cent of it,”
interrupted Ralph. “Give it to the guides who lost their situations
when the guns were stolen.”
“Swan and Bob Martin?” said Mr. Hanson. “Well, they are deserving men,
and, although they did not lose their situations on account of the
loss of the guns, because they were working for me and not for the
sportsmen with whom they went into the woods, still I know they would
be glad to have the money. I’ll hand it to them, if you say so, and
tell them I do it at your request.”
“Thank you,” answered Ralph. “We shall be much obliged.”
“Hold on a minute,” said Mr. Hanson, as the boys turned away from the
desk. “The gentlemen who own these guns are not the only ones
benefited by your lucky find. You have saved me the loss of a good
deal of patronage, and I wish to make you some return for it. Whenever
you want any supplies, go to the store-house and get them. They shan’t
cost you a cent.”
Thanking the landlord for his liberality, Tom and his companions left
the hotel and walked slowly through the grounds toward the beach.
“The place is almost deserted,” observed Tom. “There are not half as
many guests here as there were the first time we saw the Sportsman’s
Home.”
“Probably they have gone into the woods,” said Loren.
“Then how does it come that there are so many guides lying around
doing nothing?” asked Tom. “I don’t believe there are many guests in
the woods. They have gone home, or to other fishing grounds where
their camps will not be robbed the minute they turn their backs. Matt
said he would ruinate the hotels, if they didn’t give him work, and he
seems in a fair way to do it.”
“Say,” whispered Ralph. “I didn’t like what Hanson said about having
Matt Coyle arrested.”
Tom was about to answer that he didn’t like it either, when he heard
footsteps behind him and a voice calling out: “Just another word
before you go, boys,” and upon turning around he saw Mr. Hanson in
pursuit.
“I forgot one thing,” said he, when he came up. “Can you make it
convenient to come here day after to-morrow morning? By that time
we’ll have Matt hard and fast, most likely. The sheriff says he will
have to take him to Irvington, that being the nearest place at which
we can have him bound over to appear before the circuit court. I can
prove by Rube Royall, the watchman at the hatchery, that Matt
acknowledged stealing and concealing the guns, and I shall need you to
testify to the finding of them. You will be around, won’t you?”
The boys said they would, but their voices were almost inaudible, and
the faces they turned toward one another when Mr. Hanson had left them
were very white indeed.
“Now we _are_ in a scrape,” said Loren, who was the first to break the
silence. “Tom Bigden, that fellow will tell all he knows about you
just so sure as you get up in court to bear witness against him. You
told him that the guides found and returned the guns.”
“So I did,” groaned Tom. “So I did; but he won’t be long in finding
out that I lied to him, will he? What shall I do? What can I do?
There’s one thing about it,” added Tom, who, although badly
frightened, tried to put a bold face on the matter. “Matt Coyle has
not yet been arrested, and I’ve got so much at stake that I don’t want
him to be. I shall seek another interview with him in the morning,
and, if I can bring it about, I will tell him just what Hanson said
about him. It is all that Joe Wayring’s fault. If he had treated us
decently I wouldn’t have been in this scrape. I’ll do that boy some
injury the first good chance I get.”
On their way to camp the boys kept within talking distance of one
another and discussed the situation. Loren was of opinion that his
cousin Tom had better draw a bee-line for Mount Airy bright and early
the next morning; but Tom and Ralph agreed in saying that that would
be the very worst thing that could be done under the circumstances.
Mr. Hanson had plainly told them that he would need them for
witnesses, and if Tom was foolish enough to run away he had better
make a long run while he was about it and get out of the State, or the
authorities would catch him sure.
“I shall not run an inch. I’ve got to stay and face it down,” said
Tom, quietly; and his cousins knew, by the way the words came out,
that he had decided upon his course. “There were no witnesses present
when I told Matt to steal Joe Wayring’s canoe, and the matter will
simply resolve itself into a question of veracity; and when it comes
to that I think my word will have about as much weight as a tramp’s.
All the same, I don’t want Matt arrested if it can possibly be
avoided.”
Tom slept the sleep of the exhausted that night, and at seven o’clock
the next morning shoved his canoe away from the beach and pulled
toward the hatchery.