We had lunch, and then we went to work waiting again, and we waited and
waited and waited. It seemed like Tod Nodder was going to spend the
whole day right where he was, and that is exactly what he did. I wished
we could fish or something, but we didn’t dare. We could hardly talk,
and what talking we did had to be in whispers. Besides, we were afraid
all the time that somebody would be sneaking around in the woods behind
us like somebody was behind the man that was spying on Tod. If somebody
was watching him, why, somebody might be watching us. We got to thinking
about that until Mark got me to climb that tree again.
I shinned up it and stayed about an hour, but nobody was in sight or
came in sight but Tod Nodder and the man that was watching him and the
man that was watching _him_. Nobody was behind us, and, so far as I was
able to discover, nobody had any notion that we were anywhere near the
bayou. When I was sure of it I came down again, and we settled ourselves
to watch. It was pretty tedious, I can tell you, and no amount of
pertending about Injuns or anything else seemed to make the time go
faster. Fun is fun and work is work, but laying around just _waiting_ is
a nuisance and nothing else. I’d rather split wood than wait. I’d rather
study grammar than wait, and when I say that I’ve said about all I can
say.
Mark Tidd went and sneaked a nap while I wasn’t looking. He can always
manage to take a nap. I couldn’t have slept if I was paid for it, and I
made up my mind he shouldn’t sleep, either, so I took to catching big
black ants and setting them on his neck so they would crawl down under
his clothes. I didn’t get much fun out of it, but it was some comfort to
know he wasn’t getting any, so I kept it up. I was hot and sweaty and
itched all over, and I guess as many ants crawled on me of their own
accord as I managed to sic onto Mark. I wished Tod Nodder was swallowed
by a whale or something, and I made up my mind that the next time Mark
Tidd had any watching to do he could count me out. My stummick was full
of watching.
It got five o’clock and six o’clock, and still Tod didn’t budge. It
began to look like he had taken root and was going to grow there. It
turned out later that he was asleep with his back against a tree and had
been asleep all the afternoon. He hadn’t stayed because he wanted to,
but because he went fast asleep and didn’t wake up. A man like that
ought to carry an alarm-clock around with him. If it didn’t do him any
good, it would be a lot of help to boys like Mark and me that had to sit
and watch him.
It was after seven o’clock when Tod finally stretched and gaped and
twisted around and pulled in his fish-line and started for somewheres.
Now it’s easy to follow one man, but to follow a man when he is followed
by some one else and his follower is followed by a third man, is another
kind of a thing altogether. We had a tough job cut out for us to find
out where Tod was going without having one of those other fellows
finding out that we _were_ following him. But the only thing to do was
to do our best.
We waited for Tod to leave, and then we waited for the first man to
sneak after him, and then we waited for the second fellow to sneak after
him, and then along we traipsed at the tail of the procession. It was a
regular parade.
We hadn’t had a good look at the last fellow, because he had been quite
a ways off, hiding behind bushes, and we didn’t get a good look at him
now because it was getting dusk and we had to wait till he got quite a
distance off before we mogged after him. We kind of skirted around town.
After we had gone along about a mile we saw the fellow ahead scrooch
down all of a sudden, and we scrooched, too. We figured out it meant
that Tod had stopped somewheres ahead and everybody was settling down to
wait for him to move on again.
We crept up a little closer to try to get a peek at the one ahead, but
it was getting real dark by now and all we could see was just a black
blob where he crouched. Then he started up again and we took after him,
but right there we got a good scare, for, all unexpected, there popped
up a third fellow and he acted like he was following the second. Anyhow,
he was following somebody and joined right in the parade ahead of us.
That made quite a string, with Tod leading off and a man on his heels
and another on his heels and this third one that came from nowheres all
of a sudden, and Mark and me bringing up the tail.
On we went past the edge of town and headed for the river. We took along
the bank toward town again, and anybody could see that Tod had been
sneaking roundabout to get some place without being seen.
“Wonder where they’re headin’?” says I.
“I got a n-notion,” says Mark.
“Where?”
“Wait and see. Maybe I hain’t right.”
“Where d’you s’pose Tallow and Binney are?”
He grinned like he had some kind of a secret, and says he guessed we’d
be likely to see them pretty soon.
“Say,” says I, “what you got on your mind, anyhow? What you found out
and how did you find it? I hain’t seen anythin’.”
“I hain’t s-s-seen anythin’, but I been figgerin’ and calc’latin’, and I
b’lieve I know where we’re headin’ and why we’re headin’ there, and who
the man is that was watchin’ Tod Nodder, and who was watchin’ him, and
all that. I hain’t sure, but I’m pretty close to sure.”
“Huh!” says I. “Little bird told you, I s’pose.”
“No,” says Mark, “it come to me in a d-d-dream.”
“Well,” says I, “who is it, and why?”
“Wait and see,” says he.
We went on a little farther, and then Mark says, “He’s got to be
d-disposed of somehow.”
“Who?” says I.
“The feller that’s f-followin’ Tod Nodder.”
“Why him and not the rest?”
“I got an idee they’ll come nigh to disposin’ of themselves,” says he.
And that was all I could get out of him. You never in your life saw such
a close-mouthed boy as Mark Tidd. Why, there were things he wouldn’t
tell even to himself, and as for letting loose of a fact to anybody else
before he got good and ready to tell it—you might as well sit around
waiting for a boulder to roll up a hill. I knew him, so I didn’t waste
any breath asking more questions. No, sir, I just mogged along and said
nothing and made the best of it.
In a couple of minutes I was surprised some. “Why,” says I, “they’re
turnin’ right down to our mill!”
“So they be,” says Mark, in that way he has when he is pretty well
satisfied with himself, a sort of cat-purr. “So they be.” Then after a
minute he says, “Come on,” and grabbed me by the arm. We cut over the
bank and slid down into the log-yard, and then ducked around the logs
until we came to the back door of the mill. Here Mark grabbed hold of me
again and we crouched down in a black shadow and waited. In about a
second Tod Nodder came along, and he was carrying something. I couldn’t
see what it was, but it looked kind of like a basket. In went Tod, for
the door wasn’t locked, and then along came the man that had been
following Tod, and in _he_ went.
“Plunk,” says Mark, “scoot over to the dam and see if a boat hain’t
t-t-tied jest above it.”
I hustled over, and, sure enough, there was an old scow tied to a stake.
I ran back quiet and told Mark. “Have them others come along?” says I.
“No,” says he, “but I calc’late they’re hidin’ hereabouts.”
I was just going to ask some more questions when I heard a holler inside
the mill, and then a racket like half a dozen men running, and out of
the door came a man, and then another man, and right on his heels
another. That was three. And then, you can believe it or not, out came a
fourth. That was two more than went in, and I was getting mighty
puzzled. I was getting something besides puzzled, too, I can tell you,
and that something was _scairt_. There was too many folks mixed up in
this thing to make it comfortable.
Well, sir, it wasn’t enough to have all these men boil out of the mill,
but what should Mark Tidd do but reach out his foot and trip the last
man so that he went heels over appetite and rolled over about seven
times. In a second Mark jumped up and sat on him solid and sudden, and
when Mark Tidd sits on a man sudden that man is feeling something
particular uncomfortable. I’ll bet he thought the whole bunch of his
ribs was plumb caved in.
[Illustration: “I’LL BET HE THOUGHT THE WHOLE BUNCH OF HIS RIBS WAS
PLUMB CAVED IN”]
“Binney, Tallow!” Mark yelled as loud as he could. “Run for the dam.
Stop that boat from gettin’ away.”
Binney and Tallow! I was considerable flabbergasted, but to have Binney
and Tallow join in with the rest of the circus was more than I could
stand. Mark seemed to know they were there, but how he knew it I
couldn’t see. The whole business was too much for me.
I didn’t know just what to do, so I rushed over and helped Mark sit on
his man, though goodness knows that wasn’t necessary. Mark was doing all
the sitting anybody needed.
The man under Mark wriggled and twisted and made some noises with his
voice like he wasn’t enjoying himself to speak of. He sounded like he
wanted to be let up, and in a jiffy Mark rolled off of him and let him
up. But he didn’t move off. No, he just sat up and grunted and began to
feel of himself and let out sounds of misery.
“Hurt?” says Mark.
“Busted all to pieces,” says the man.
“That’s what you git for t-t-trespassin’,” says Mark. “This hain’t a
healthy mill for folks workin’ for Mr. Wiggamore to go f-f-foolin’
around.”
The man didn’t say a word, and then out of the darkness came two men,
one hanging onto the other by the collar, and Mark says: “Hello. Silas
Doolittle! Who you got there?”
“Dunno. Somebody monkeyin’ around the mill,” says Silas.
Mark got up and took a look. “Tod Nodder,” says he. “T’other f-f-feller
git away?”
“Jumped into a boat,” says Silas.
“Then Binney and Tallow didn’t stop him, eh?”
“Was that Binney and Tallow? Somebody was chasin’ him hard, but I didn’t
see who. Looked like the place was full of folks runnin’ and bein’
chased. Seems like somethin’ happened.”
“Seems so,” says Mark.
“What’ll I do with this?” says Silas, giving Tod a little shake.
“Oh,” says Mark, “l-let him go! He’s been mighty useful. We hain’t got a
thing against Tod.”
Silas acted like he didn’t like to do it, but he let go of Tod, and Tod
scooted.
“Guess maybe you better f-f-follow him,” says Mark to the man on the
ground. “Tell Mr. Wiggamore you had bad l-luck. Tell him that you wasn’t
able to do what you set out for on account of bein’ interrupted. And if
I was you, I’d go away somewheres and hide.”
“Huh!” says the man. “You dunno what you’re talkin’ about.”
“Maybe so,” says Mark. “Good night, mister.”
And _he_ went off—the man, I mean.
That left just Mark and Silas and me, but in another minute along came
Tallow and Binney.
“Hey, Mark Tidd!” says Tallow.
“Right here by the door,” says Mark.
“What’s been happenin’?”
“Has been a l-little confusin’,” says Mark. “But it all come out right
except l-lettin’ that boat git away, and maybe that was for the b-best.
George Piggins was in it.”
“What’s that?” says I.
“It was George,” says Mark.
“How d’you know?” says I.
“Easy,” says he. “Jest think t-t-things over. You and me was watchin’
Tod Nodder. A man was watchin’ him, t-too. That was Wiggamore’s
detective. He figgered like we did, that Tod Nodder might lead him to
George—which is jest what happened.”
“But those other fellers,” says I.
“Why, Tallow and Binney, of course! We left one to watch the detective
and the other to watch Miss Piggins. When Tod stopped at Miss Piggins’s
Binney took after him. Of course Tallow was right after the detective
all the while. So we got into one p-parade. I was all p-puzzled at
first, but it come to me all in a minute. That’s how I knew Tallow and
Binney were here and yelled at them to head off George.”
“Um!” says I.
“But we didn’t head him off,” says Binney.
“May be j-jest as well,” says Mark. “We’ll f-find him to-morrow or
n-next day. I got a notion I know where he is right now, or where he
will be when he lands out of his boat.”
“Where?” says I.
“Big Hole Island,” says he.
“Maybe so. But what was he doin’ here?”
“Come d-down after grub. Been doin’ it every night. It was him we almost
caught in the mill when we saw the light.”
It was clear enough now, but such a mixed-up business as it was a few
minutes before I never heard of. I never would have got it figured out,
but Mark was good at that kind of thing, which was lucky.
“Better go home now,” says he, “and get a night’s s-s-sleep. We’ll start
up the river for George Piggins to-morrow.”
“Better stay in town,” says Silas Doolittle. “There’s trouble at the
mill. All our men but two has quit work.”
“What for?” says Mark.
“Claim they been offered better jobs,” says Silas.
“Huh!... That means Wiggamore has hired ’em away. Hum!... Well, we can’t
stop to fix that. See if you kin get more m-men, Silas. Do the best you
kin. If you can’t get anybody, just plug along for a day or two. We got
to find George Piggins before we do anything else.”
We said good night to Silas and left him feeling kind of blue, I guess.
I was kind of blue myself, because it did look to me like we ought to
stay and see about the mill instead of traipsing around after George.
But there’s no use trying to run against Mark Tidd when he has his mind
made up. He was going after George, and he would keep on till he found
him if it took a year. It was a kind of a disease with him, like a boil,
I guess. When you got a boil you hain’t comfortable till it busts. Well,
Mark Tidd was never comfortable till he did what he set out to do.
When I went to bed I wasn’t expecting anything exciting to happen the
next day. I wasn’t much expecting anything to happen, which shows that
you never can tell. How was I to guess that the next little while was
going to be about the most exciting and worrying time we ever had? But
it was.