“Boys,” said Tom, as he was kindling the fire the next morning, “do you
know what day it is?”
“Saturday, of course,” replied the others.
“You’re wrong; it’s Sunday.”
“It can’t be,” exclaimed Harry.
“But it is,” persisted Tom. “Last night was the sixth night that we’ve
slept out-doors, and we started on a Monday.”
Tom was right; but it was some time before his companions could
convince themselves that it was actually Sunday. When they finally
admitted that it was Sunday morning, they gave up the idea of
proceeding up the canal, and began to discuss what they had better do.
The boat, which had been drawn out of the water the night before, was
concealed by a clump of bushes from the canal-boatmen. The boys decided
to leave it where it was, and to carry the tent and most of their
baggage to a grove a quarter of a mile distant, where they could pass
a quiet Sunday. The locks were not yet opened, and no canal-boats were
stirring, and the boys made their way to the grove at once while their
movements were unobserved. They were afraid that if they attracted the
attention of the boatmen to the clump of bushes some one would steal
the _Whitewing_ while her crew were absent. They had already seen
enough of the “canalers” to know that they were a wild and lawless set
of men, and they were not anxious to put the temptation of stealing a
nice boat in their way.
The grove was a delightful place; and when they had pitched the tent
under the shadow of the great oak-trees, they were glad of the prospect
of a good day’s rest. Tom and Harry walked nearly a mile to church in
the morning, leaving the Sharpe boys to look after the camp, and they
all slept most of the afternoon.
About dusk, as the fire for cooking supper was blazing briskly, Joe
returned from a foraging expedition, quite out of breath, and with his
milk-pail half empty. He said that he had met three tramps on the road,
which passed through the grove not very far from the camp, and that
they had snatched a pie from him that he had bought at a farm-house,
and had chased him for some distance.
He had been badly frightened, as he frankly admitted; but the other
boys thought that it was a good joke on him. They told him that the
tramps would track him by the milk that he had spilt, and would
probably attack the camp and scalp him. They soon forgot the adventure,
however, with the exception of Tom; who, although he said nothing at
the time, poured water on the fire as soon as the supper was cooked--an
act which somewhat astonished the rest. Soon afterward he went into
the tent for a few moments, and when he returned he was beginning to
advise Joe not to laugh quite so loud, when the crackling of branches
was heard in the grove, and three very unpleasant-looking men appeared.
It was fast growing dark, but Joe immediately recognized them as the
tramps who had stolen his pie. “We’ve come to supper,” said one of
them. “Let’s see what you’ve got. Give us the bill of fare, sonny, and
look sharp about it.”
Tom immediately answered that they had eaten their supper, and that
there was nothing left of it but some coffee. “If you want the coffee,
take it,” said he. “There isn’t anything else for you.”
“That ain’t a perlite way to treat three gen’lemen as come a long ways
to call on you,” said the tramp. “We’ll just have to help ourselves,
and we’ll begin by looking into your tent. P’raps you’ve got a crust of
bread there, what’ll save a poor starvin’ workin’-man from dyin’ on the
spot!”
Tom hastily stepped before the tent. “You can’t go into this tent,” he
said, very quietly; “and you’d better leave this camp and go about your
business.”
“Just hear him,” said the tramp, addressing his companions. “As if this
yere identical camp wasn’t our business. Now, boys,” he continued,
“you’ve got money with you, and you’ve got clothes, and one on you’s
got a watch, and you’re goin’ to give ’em to three honest hard-workin’
men, or else you’re goin’ to have your nice little throats cut.”
“Here, boys, quick!” cried Tom, rushing into the tent, where he was
followed by the other boys before the tramps could stop them. “Here,
Harry,” he continued, “take the boat-hook. There’s a hatchet for you,
Jim, and a stick for Joe. Now we’ll see if they can rob us!” So saying,
he stepped outside the tent with the gun in his hand, followed closely
by his little army.
The ruffians hesitated when they saw the cool way in which Tom
confronted them. So they proposed a compromise, as they called it.
“Look a here,” said the one who had hitherto been the spokesman; “we
ain’t unreasonable, and we’ll compromise this yere business. You give
us your money and that chap’s watch, and we’ll let you alone. That’s
what I call a very handsome offer.”
“We won’t give you a thing,” replied Tom; “and I’ll shoot the first one
of you that lays a hand on us.”
The tramps consulted for a moment, and then the leader, with a
frightful oath, ordered Tom to drop that gun instantly.
Tom never said a word, but he cocked both barrels and waited, with his
eye fixed on the enemy.
Presently the tramps separated a little, the leader remaining where
he had been standing, and the others moving one to the right and the
other to the left of the boys. They evidently intended to rush on Tom
from three directions at once, and so confuse him and prevent him from
shooting.
“I’ll take the leader and the man on the right,” whispered Tom to
Harry. “You lay for the other fellow with your boat-hook. I’ve given
you fair warning,” he continued, addressing the ruffians, “and I’ll
fire the minute you try to attack us.”
[Illustration: THE FIGHT WITH THE TRAMPS.]
The boys were standing close together in front of the tent, Tom
being a little in advance of the others. Suddenly the leader of the
tramps called out, “Now then!” and all three made a rush toward Tom. He
fired at the tramp in front of him, hitting him in the leg and bringing
him to the ground; but before he could fire again, the other two were
upon him.
The boys gallantly stood by Tom. Harry attacked one of the tramps
with the boat-hook so fiercely that the fellow cried out that he was
stabbed, and ran away. Meanwhile Tom was struggling with the third
tramp, who had thrown him down, and was trying to wrench the gun from
him, while Jim and Joe were hovering around them afraid to strike at
the tramp for fear of hitting Tom. But now Harry, having driven off his
antagonist, flew to the help of Tom, and seizing the tramp by his hair,
and bracing one knee against his back, dragged him backward to the
ground, and held him there until Tom regained his feet, and, holding
the muzzle of the gun at the robber’s head, called on him to surrender,
which the fellow gladly did.
“Get some rope, Jim, and tie him!” cried Tom. “Hold on to his hair,
Harry, and I’ll blow his brains out if he offers to move.”
The tramp was not at all anxious to part with his brains, and he
remained perfectly quiet while Jim and Joe tied his feet together, and
his hands behind his back.
“Now you stand over him with the boat-hook, Harry,” said Tom, “and I’ll
see to the other fellow.”
The other fellow was, of course, the man who had been shot. Tom lighted
the lantern, for it was now quite dark, and found that the ruffian had
been shot in the lower part of his right leg, and had fainted from loss
of blood. Taking a towel, Tom tore it into strips, and bound up the
wound, and by the time he had finished the patient became conscious
again, and begged Tom not to take him to prison.
Now this was precisely what the boys did not want to do, as it would
probably delay them for several days, and perhaps put an end to their
cruise. Tom therefore said to the prisoner, whom Harry was guarding,
that if he would promise to help the wounded man away, and take him
to see a doctor, he would be released. The tramp gladly accepted the
offer, and Harry unfastened the rope from his legs and arms, while Tom
kept his gun in readiness to use it at the first sign of treachery.
The tramps, however, had quite enough of fighting, and were only too
anxious to get away. The wounded man was helped to his feet by his
companion, and the two went slowly off, one half carrying the other,
and both cursing the coward who had run away. As they hobbled off, Tom
called out, “I’m sorry I had to hurt you, but I couldn’t help it, you
know; and if any of you come back here to-night, you’ll find us ready
for you.”
It was a long time before the boys fell asleep that night, and Tom was
overwhelmed with praise for his coolness and bravery. Though he felt
certain that the tramps would not return, he proposed that a sentinel
should keep guard outside the tent, offering to share that duty with
Harry, since the other boys were not familiar with guns. So all night
long Tom and Harry, relieving one another every two hours, marched up
and down in front of the tent, keeping a sharp watch for robbers, and
preparing for a desperate fight every time they heard the slightest
noise.