ON THE RIGHT TRACK AT LAST.
A more astonished trio than Matt Coyle and his boys were when they
heard Arthur Hastings’s voice, and looked up to find the muzzle of his
double-barrel pointed straight at their heads, had never been seen on
the shores of No-Man’s Pond. They really believed that they had seen
Arthur and Roy in the woods going toward Indian Lake, and when they
made a prisoner of Joe Wayring they thought they held him at their
mercy. But, although Matt was surprised at the interruption, he was
not to be easily beaten. He uttered a faint cry, which had more than
once sent his whole family scurrying into the bushes, and in less time
than it takes to write it he and his boys were out of sight. They
wormed their way through the bushes with astonishing celerity, and by
the time Roy and Arthur reached the shore and released the captive
from his bonds Matt and his allies were lying prone behind a log a
short distance away, with their rifles pointed over it, waiting to be
attacked.
“Jakey, you an’ Sam was certainly mistaken when you said that the
fellers we seen goin’ through the woods was the same ones that always
went with Joe Wayring,” whispered Matt. “If it was them, how did they
happen to come up in that there canvas canoe the way they did? My luck
has turned agin me onct more, ain’t it?”
“That Bigden boy played a trick on you,” said Jake. He passed his hand
over his battered face and could hardly repress a howl when he saw
that it was covered with blood.
“I told you I’d lick ye if we didn’t find the money in Joe’s camp,
didn’t I?” said his father, fiercely. “Now I reckon you see that I was
in earnest, don’t you? If you had brung me the money the minute you
got hold of it, I would have went halvers with you, an’ you wouldn’t
have had that lookin’ face, an’ I wouldn’t have been put to so much
trouble. Next time bear in mind that your pap is boss of this here
house. You say that Bigden boy played a trick onto me. I begin to
suspicion so myself; but, if he did, where’s the money? Jakey, did you
hide them grip-sacks in that hole where you said you did?”
“Sure’s I live an’ breathe I did,” replied Jake, edging away from his
father when he saw how savagely the latter scowled at him. “It was
there the last time I seen it; but I don’t know where it is now.”
“What be we waitin’ here for?” interrupted Sam. “Joe ain’t got the
money, an’ why don’t we go somewheres else an’ look for it? Mam’ll be
scared if we don’t come home purty quick.”
“Where else shall we go an’ look for it?” demanded the squatter.
“Why, down to—anywheres,” said Sam, with some confusion.
“You had some place in your mind when you spoke,” Matt insisted. “Down
where?”
“Anywheres on the other side of the lake. It ain’t never been brung
over here, an’ I didn’t think so none of the time.”
Very gradually it began to creep into Matt’s head that Sam had not
acted at all like himself since their party left Tom Bigden’s camp to
go in pursuit of Joe Wayring. The boy had been opposed to it from the
first, and showed great anxiety and impatience to return to camp and
relieve his mother’s suspense. How did she know but that they had
fallen into the clutches of the law; and how was she going to find out
unless one of their number went home to assure her that they were all
safe and sound? It wasn’t at all like Sam to express so much concern
for his mother’s comfort and peace of mind, and why should he do it
now, Matt asked himself, unless he had some reason for desiring to go
back to the cove?
“An’ what should Sammy want to go back there for, less’n it’s to look
after something he’s left behind?” soliloquized the squatter. “An’
what’s he left there if it ain’t them two—Whoop! That’s it, sure’s
you’re born.”
“What’s the matter of you, pap?” exclaimed Sam.
Almost involuntarily Matt uttered the last words aloud, and of course
his boys heard them and desired an explanation. Sam looked frightened;
but Jake’s face was so badly wounded that no one could tell what its
expression was. Matt looked surprised, then thoughtful, and finally
replied:
“Yes, sir; that’s it. That Bigden boy done sent us up here on a wild
goose chase jest to draw suspicion from himself. He is the one that’s
got the money, and he’s had it all the time.”
“You’ve hit center, pap, sure’s you’re a foot high,” exclaimed Sam. “I
wondered why that Bigden boy was so ready to tell us where the money
was, an’ now I know. Will we go home now, pap?”
“We’ll start at onct, an’ by this time to-morrer we’ll have the money
an’ the Bigden boy too. If he don’t tell us what he’s done with it,
we’ll tie him to a tree like we done with Joe Wayring. He ain’t got
Joe’s pluck, Tom ain’t, sassy as he lets on to be, an’ when he sees a
hickory whistlin’ before his eyes he’ll tell us all we want to know. I
didn’t think Tom would have the cheek to fool me that a-way when he
knows well enough that I’ve got the upper hand of him.”
The squatter said this as if he was in earnest, and as if he really
thought he had got upon the track of the money at last; but while he
talked he kept close watch of Sam’s face, and saw enough there to
satisfy him that his own boy, and not Tom Bigden, was the one who
could tell him right where to look to find the lost treasure.
“Well, what be we waitin’ here for?” repeated Sam, who was impatient
to be off.
“I kinder thought that mebbe them fellers would make a rush on us
soon’s they turned Joe Wayring loose,” answered Matt, “an’ I wanted to
be ready for ’em. But I don’t reckon they’re comin’, so we’ll go
along. Jakey, I didn’t lick you ’cause we didn’t find the money in
Joe’s camp, but to pay you for not turnin’ it over to me when you
found it.”
“Be you goin’ to look in Tom Bigden’s camp for it?” inquired Jake.
“I be,” replied Matt, who had already determined upon a very different
course of action.
“Well, you remember that Tom took away his blankets an’ every thing
else when we was there, don’t you?” continued Jake. “That looked to me
as though he was goin’ somewheres else to camp, or goin’ home. If you
don’t find him nor the money nuther, then who you goin’ to lick?”
“Yon needn’t worry about that,” said the squatter slowly, and in a
tone which he meant to be very impressive. “If I don’t find the money
the very first time tryin’, I’ll tumble onto the feller who knows
where it is; you may be sure of that.”
Sam grew frightened again, while Jake shut his teeth hard and said to
himself:
“That means me. But he won’t tumble onto me agin, I bet you, ’cause
when he gets on t’other side the lake I won’t be within reach of him.
I’m goin’ to do something that’ll make pap’s eyes bung out as big as
your fist when he hears of it. I ain’t goin’ to be pounded for
nothing, an’ that’s all about it.”
“Yes,” continued Matt, who felt more confident of success now than at
any other time during his search for the money. “I shall make a go of
it by this hour to-morrer; you hear me? Jakey, you remember the old
blanket Tom Bigden give us that I used fur a knapsack to carry our
grub in, don’t you? Well, I dropped it when we was getting’ ready to
make our rush on Joe’s camp. It’s up there in the woods about two
hundred yards from here. Mind the place, don’t you? Well, go an’ get
it.”
“I’ll go,” said Jake to himself, “an’ it’ll be the last arrant I go on
for one while, I bet you. What’s the use of me goin’ over on t’other
side of the lake, when the men I want to see is on this side? I’ll go,
but I won’t never come back. Pap ain’t goin’ to find that money, an’
he ain’t goin’ to give me another lickin’ like he done to-day,
nuther.”
If Matt could have seen and interpreted the expression that Jake’s
face wore as he crawled away in obedience to this order, he might have
called him back and gone himself or sent Sam; but he was too busy
filling his pipe to notice the boy, and besides it had never occurred
to him that he could drive any of his family to rebellion. But he had
done it, for Jake never came back to him. He seized the blanket when
he found it, threw it over his shoulder, and struck out for Indian
Lake.
“He can go hungry for all I care,” muttered Jake, halting now and then
and looking back to make sure he was not pursued. “He’ll go hungry
many a time this winter, if the law don’t catch him, for that lazy Sam
of our’n wouldn’t dare show his head out of camp after dark; so who’s
goin’ to steal grub for him to eat?”
Having determined upon this course, Jake held to it with surprising
resolution, and his father and his brother waited long for his coming.
At last Matt became angry at his unaccountable absence, but he never
once suspected Jake’s fidelity.
“Mebbe he’s gone an’ got himself ketched by them fellers,” suggested
Sam.
“More likely he’s gone an’ lost himself or missed the place where I
left the blanket,” growled the squatter. “I do think we’d best be
lookin’ into the matter.”
“Well, go on, an’ I’ll stay here till you come back,” said Sam, with
suppressed eagerness.
“I don’t reckon that would be the best plan in the world,” answered
Matt, who was not to be taken in by any such artifice. “Do you,
Sammy?”
“Then you stay an’ let me go.”
“I don’t think that would be the best thing either, ’cause if you went
alone them fellers might jump outen their camp an’ ketch you. We’ll
both go, an’ then they can’t harm us, an’ we won’t get lost, nuther.”
Sam was well enough acquainted with his father to know that the latter
had had his suspicions aroused in some mysterious way, and he had
suddenly hit upon a plan to outwit him. If he could separate himself
from Matt for just five minutes he would put for the outlet at his
best pace, induce one of the resident vagabonds to set him across, and
then he would secure his treasure and go somewhere—anywhere—so long as
he could hold fast to the money and be out of his father’s reach.
Perhaps, on reflection, he might decide to give it up and claim the
reward; but that was a matter that could be settled at some future
time. Did the squatter suspect this little game? Whether he did or not
he nipped it in the bud by giving Sam to understand that wherever one
went the other would go also, and that there was to be no separation.
“You see, Sammy,” said Matt, as he led the way toward the place where
he had left the blanket, “if me an’ you stick together we won’t nuther
get lost nor ketched, one or t’other of which has most likely happened
to Jakey. ’Tain’t like him to stay away less’n he’s got some excuse
for it.”
“Aw! Jake ain’t ketched,” said Sam, who knew that the only thing he
could do was to put a good face on the matter and bide his time. “If
he was, wouldn’t we have heard him whoopin’? He’s lost; that’s what’s
went with Jake.”
“Well, if he is, he’s lost the grub as well as himself, ’cause there’s
right where I left the blanket,” said Matt, pointing out the exact
spot. “He won’t stay lost, for Jakey’s a master hand to find his way
around in the woods. He’ll put for the outlet, most likely, an’
there’s where we will go, too. You toddle on ahead an’ I’ll foller.”
This meant that the squatter was resolved to keep Sam where he could
see him, and the latter was careful to do nothing out of the ordinary.
When it became too dark for them to continue their journey they
lighted a fire and went supperless to bed, with nothing but the leaves
for a mattress and the spreading branches of an evergreen for a
covering. They slept, too, for Sam thought it wasn’t worth while to
escape from his father’s control while they were so near the outlet.
He could not get across before daylight, for the boats were all on the
other side, and, more than that, Sam was too much of a coward to
deliberately undertake a two-mile tramp through a piece of dark woods.
It would be time enough for him to make a move when he was on the same
side of the lake that the money was.
Father and son resumed their journey at the first peep of day, and at
breakfast time were standing on the bank of the outlet below the
hatchery, signaling for a boat. The same accommodating vagabond who
had ferried them across two days before responded to their hail, and
showed a desire to pry deeper into their private affairs than Matt was
willing he should go.
“Jake’s gone off about his business, and if the old woman ain’t left
camp she’s there yet,” growled the squatter, in reply to the
ferryman’s eager questions. “I’ve got some things to tend to that I
forgot about, an’ that’s why I come back. No; we won’t go into your
house an’ get breakfast, but you can give us a bite to eat as we go
along if you’re a mind to.”
“Did you—you didn’t see any body lookin’ for you, I reckon?” said the
ferryman at a venture. “Well, that’s queer. I’ve heard that there’s as
many as a dozen or fifteen constables an’ guides follerin’ of you an
Jakey.”
“Which side the lake?” inquired Matt, anxiously.
“This side—the one you’re jest leavin’.”
This was something that was in Matt’s favor, but he little thought he
had his friend the ferryman to thank for it. The latter had hung
around the hatchery all the previous day, and made it his business to
put every party of officers and guides who crossed the outlet on
Matt’s trail, first stipulating for a small share of the reward in
case the information he gave them led to the squatter’s arrest. But he
had played squarely into Matt’s hands. The road that led to his camp
was clear, and all he had to do was to keep a close watch upon Sam,
who, for some reason or other, showed an almost uncontrollable desire
to take to his heels. At last Matt became satisfied that that was just
what the boy meant to do; and after they had left the hatchery out of
sight, and were walking along the carry Indian file, munching the
bread and meat the ferryman had given them, he came to the conclusion
that it was time for him to put into operation the plan he had
determined upon the day before. Suddenly thrusting what was left of
his breakfast into his pocket, Matt took one long step forward and
laid hold of Sam’s collar. As quick as thought the boy threw both arms
behind him and jumped. His object was to leave his coat in his
father’s grasp, and the only thing that prevented him from doing it
was the fact that one of Matt’s long, muscular fingers had, by the
merest accident, caught under the collar of Sam’s shirt. The collar
stood the strain, Matt’s finger was too strong to be straightened out,
and Sam was a prisoner.
“Aha!” said the squatter, looking into the boy’s astonished face with
grim good-humor. “You didn’t look for your old pap to be so cute, did
you? Didn’t I give you fair warnin’ that a man who had spent the best
years of his life in dodgin’ guides an’ constables wasn’t to be beat
by his own boys? You’ve been mighty cunnin’, you an’ Jakey have, but
I’m to the top of the heap now. See it, don’t you?”
“What be you goin’ to do, pap?” inquired Sam, when he saw his sire put
his disengaged hand into his pocket and draw forth the same stout cord
that had once been used to confine Jake’s hands and feet. “I won’t run
from you, an’ I’ll show you where it is, sure.”
“Where what is?” demanded the squatter, who wanted to be sure that he
had got upon the right track at last.
“Where the valises is—the money.”
“There now, you little snipe!” cried Matt, drawing back his heavy hand
as if he had half a mind to let it fall with fall force upon the boy’s
unprotected face. “Oughtn’t I to lick ye for makin’ me tramp
twenty-four miles on a wild goose chase after that money, when you
knowed where it was all the while? Dog-gone it! I’ve a good notion—”
“What’s the use of r’arin’, pap?” interrupted Sam. “You never offered
to go halvers with me, did you? That’s all I was waitin’ for. You’ll
get it now, so what’s the use of gettin’ mad about it?”
“You’re right I’ll have it now,” said Matt, as he proceeded to tie
Sam’s hands behind his back. “You was kalkerlatin’ to show me where
the money was soon’s I offered to go halvers with you, was you? Then
what did you try to jump outen your jacket for when I grabbed you?”
“’Cause I was afeared you’d lick me like you did Jake before I got a
chance to talk to you. Don’t draw them ropes so tight. What you tyin’
me for, anyway?”
“So’t you can’t run away an’ leave me,” replied Matt. “I’ve seed the
day when I could ketch you before you’d went ten foot, but I ain’t as
young as I was then. You ain’t done fair by me. You’ve fooled me all
along, you an’ Jakey have, ’an you might take it into your head to
show me the wrong place. If you do, I won’t have to go fur to find
you. Now tell me true: Did Jake hide the money in that there hole
where he said he did?”
Sam replied that Jake had told a straight story. He did hide the
valises under the roots of the fallen poplar, but he (Sam) had taken
them out and concealed them in another place.
“There you be, tied hard an’ fast with one end of the rope, an’ I’ll
jest hold the other end in my hand an’ be ready to jerk you flat if
you try to run,” said Matt, when he had finished his task of confining
Sam’s hands behind his back. “Now put out at your best licks, and go
straight to the place where you hid them grip-sacks. What had you made
up your decision to do with them six thousand?”
“I was goin’ halvers with you an’ mam an’ Jake,” began Sam.
“Aw! Shucks!” exclaimed Matt.
“An’ then I was goin’ to buy some good clothes an’ things for myself.
Now, pap, you’re goin’ to go halvers with me, ain’t you? An’ after you
get it, you won’t lick me like you done Jake, will you?”
“That’s a p’int that will take a heap of studyin’ before I can say
what I’m goin’ to do,” replied Matt cautiously. “I ain’t seen the
money yet. Show me that first, an’ then I’ll talk to you. I don’t
reckon that you’ve disremembered where you put it, have you? ’Cause if
you have—”
The squatter did not think it necessary to finish the sentence. He
stopped, took his ready knife from his pocket and looked around for a
switch. This alarmed Sam, who made haste to assure his father that he
had the bearings of the hiding-place of the valises firmly fixed in
his memory, and that he could go to it without the least difficulty.
“If you do that, you won’t get into no trouble with your pap,”
answered Matt, winking at Sam, and then cutting down a hickory which
he proceeded to trim very carefully. “But you an’ Jakey do have sich
short memories sometimes that I’m afeared to trust you; so I’ll be on
the safe side. If I find the money where you say you left it, I won’t
say a word about the twenty-four mile tramp you made me take for
nothing; but I’ll l’arn you that the next time you find six thousand
dollars you had better bring it to me without no foolin’, instead of
keepin’ it for your own use.”
These words frightened Sam, who saw very plainly that he need not hope
to escape without a whipping, even if his father found the money. And
if he didn’t find it, if some one had been there during his absence
and stolen the valises from him, as he had stolen them from Jake, then
what would happen? Sam thought of his brother’s battered countenance
and shuddered. Keeping his gaze fixed upon his father’s face, he moved
his arms up and down, and discovered that they were not as tightly
bound as he had supposed. In fact, Sam told himself that if his father
would go away and leave him alone for two minutes he would not find
him when he returned.
“How do you like the looks of that, Sammy?” said Matt, shutting up his
knife and giving the switch a vicious cut in the air. “It’s mighty
onhandy an’ disagreeable to be a pap sometimes, leastwise when you’ve
got two sich ongrateful boys for sons as you an’ Jakey be. This is all
your own doin’s an’ not mine.”
“I’ll never do it ag’in,” whined Sam, who wasn’t half as badly
frightened now as he was before he found that he could move his hands.
“The next time I find six thousand dollars layin’ around loose in the
woods I’ll bring it to you; the very minute I find it, too.”
“Then you’ll be doin’ jest right an’ I won’t switch you. Now we’re all
ready an’ you can toddle on agin. I hope them valises ain’t a very fur
ways from here, ’cause I’m in a monstrous hurry to handle the money
that’s into ’em.”
So saying the squatter picked up the free end of the rope and followed
Sam as if he were a blind man, and Sam the dog that was leading him.
He must have been pretty near blind, or else he did not make the good
use of his eyes he generally did, for he surely ought to have seen
that the cord that encircled the boy’s wrists was very slack, and that
it would have fallen to the ground if Sam had not kept his arms spread
out to hold it in place. After two miles had been passed over in this
way, Sam stopped in front of the evergreen in which he had placed the
valises. The big drops of perspiration that stood on his forehead had
not been brought out by the heat, but by the mental strain to which he
was subjected. From the bottom of his heart Sam wished he knew what
was going to happen during the next two minutes.
“Why don’t you go on?” Matt demanded.
“Here we be,” answered Sam, faintly. “Look in that tree an’ you’ll
find ’em if somebody ain’t took ’em out.”
“Whoop!” yelled Matt, knocking his heels together and making the
switch whistle around his head. “Took ’em out? Sam, do you know what
them few words mean to you? If any body has took ’em out I’m sorry for
you. Did you say the valises was in the tree?”
“Yes. I tied ’em fast among the branches so’t the wind wouldn’t shake
’em out. Go round on t’other side, stick your head into the tree an’
you’ll find ’em.”
Trembling in every limb with excitement, the squatter dropped the
rope, placed his rifle and Sam’s carefully against a neighboring tree,
and disappeared behind the evergreen. The instant he was out of sight
Sam brought his wrists close together, and the rope with which he was
confined fell to the ground.
“I’ll show pap whether or not I am goin’ to stay here an’ take sich a
lickin’ as he give Jakey,” thought Sam, as he wheeled about and
reached for his rifle. “I wish I dast p’int this we’pon at his head
an’ make him go halvers with me if he finds it. But shucks! What’s the
use? He’d steal it from me the first good chance he got, an’ then I
wouldn’t have none an’ he would have it all. I’ll do wusser’n that for
him,” muttered Sam, as he moved away from the evergreen with long,
noiseless strides. “I’ll hunt up old man Swan an’ tell him that if
he’ll go snucks with me on the reward I’ll show him where pap is.
There, sir! I do think in my soul he’s found it.”
These words were called forth by a dismal noise, something between a
howl and a wail, that arose behind him. Sam had often heard it and he
knew the meaning of it. Sure enough his father had found one of the
valises. He seized it with eager hands, tore it loose from its
fastenings, and dropped it to the ground. It was broken open by the
fall, and gold and silver pieces were scattered over the leaves in
great profusion. For a moment Matt gazed as if he were fascinated;
then he fell upon his knees among them and began throwing them back
into the valise, at the same time setting up a yelp that could have
been heard a mile away.
“Luck has come my way at last,” said he, gleefully. “Sam, I won’t lick
you, but I must do a pap’s dooty by you an’ punish you in some way for
not bringin’ it to me the minute you got hold of it, so I’ll keep it
all an’ you shan’t have none of it. Sam, why don’t you come around
here an’ listen to your pap?”
But Matt didn’t care much whether Sam showed himself or not, he was so
deeply interested in the contents of the valise. After carefully
picking up every coin that had fallen out of it, he gathered the
shining pieces up by handfuls and let them run back, all the while
gloating over them as a miser gloats over his hoard. When he had
somewhat recovered himself he jumped to his feet and dived into the
tree after the other valise. He found it after a short search, and
placed it on the ground beside its fellow.
“Whew!” panted Matt, pulling off his hat and wiping his dripping
forehead with his shirt-sleeve. “It’s mine at last, an’ I’m as rich as
Adam was (I disremember his other name), but I have heard that he had
the whole ’arth an’ all the money an’ watches an’ good clothes an’
every thing else in it for his own. I ain’t got that much, but I’ve
got enough so’t I won’t have to work so hard nor go ragged no more.
Say, Sam, come around an’ take a peep at it an’ see what you might
have had if you’d only been a good an’ dutiful son. Sam! Where’s that
Sam of our’n gone, I wonder.”
And Matt’s wonder increased when he walked around the tree and found
that the boy was nowhere in sight. There lay the cord with which his
arms had been bound, but Sam was missing and so was his rifle. That
made the whole thing clear to Matt’s comprehension.
“The ongrateful an’ ondutiful scamp!” cried the squatter, angrily.
“This is another thing that I owe him a lickin’ for—runnin’ away from
his pap. He’ll get it good an’ strong when he comes home, I bet you,
an’ so will Jakey. Whoop! I’m boss of this house, an’ I don’t want
none on you to disremember it. Now, what shall I do with my money so’t
I can keep it safe? I reckon I’d best hunt up the ole woman an’ ask
her what she thinks about it.”
So saying the squatter took his rifle under his arm, seized a valise
in each hand, and set out for the cove.
[Illustration: MATT DISCOVERS THE LOST MONEY AT LAST.]