"He's done it!" exclaimed Throppy.
The boys felt unhappy. In a few minutes Lane came crunching down the
gravel slope. His face was sober.
"Where's the lamb?" asked Jim.
"Up there! I didn't agree to bring it down."
"Come on, boys!"
Jim, Percy, and Stevens went up to the pasture; Lane remained in the
cabin. A careful search failed to reveal the victim. Jim walked to the
edge of the bank.
"Oh, Budge!" he called.
Lane came out of the camp.
"Where's that lamb?"
"Don't know! Running around up there, I s'pose!"
"Didn't you shoot him?"
"No! I couldn't. And I know none of the rest of you could, either. So I
fired in the air."
Jim's laugh spoke his relief.
"Well, I guess that's the easiest way out of it for everybody. Next trip
to Matinicus I'll order a hind quarter from Rockland. It'll mean a
little more wear and tear on the company's pocketbook, but a good deal
less on our feelings."
One of the accompaniments of the heat and fog of those August days was a
kind of salt-water mirage. Ships and steamers miles away below the
horizon were lifted into plain view. Low, distant islands rose to
perpendicular bluffs, distorted by the wavering air-currents; other
islands appeared directly above the first, and came down to join them.
Percy watched these novel moving pictures with great interest.
Every few mornings either the trawl or the lobster-traps would yield
something unusual. Now it might be a dozen bream, called by the
fishermen "brim," "redfish," or "all-eyes"; again up would come a
catfish, savage and sharp-toothed, able to dent an ash oar; and rarely a
small halibut would appear, drowned on the trawl. Sometimes the
lobstermen would capture a monkfish, whose undiscriminating appetite had
led him to try to swallow a glass float; or a trap would come to the
surface freighted with huge five-fingers or containing a short,
ribbon-shaped eel, blood-red from nose to tail-tip.
Spurling & Company were dressing a big catch of hake on the _Barracouta_
early one afternoon when a rockety report resounded close to the island.
Percy, who was wielding his splitting-knife with good effect, as his
oilskins showed, glanced up quickly.
"That's a yacht's gun!"
Sixty seconds revealed that he was right. Into the mouth of the cove
shot a keen-pro wed steam-yacht, resplendent with brass fittings and
fresh, white paint. Five or six flanneled figures lounged aft, while a
few members of her crew, natty in white duck, dropped anchor under the
direction of an officer. Side-steps were lowered and an immaculate toy
boat swung out; a sailor occupied the rowing-thwart, while one of the
yachtsmen stepped into the stern and took the rudder-lines. The boat
sped straight toward the _Barracouta_, which grew dingy and mean by
contrast.
Presently the strangers were near. The yachtsman touched his cap. He was
a good-looking fellow of perhaps nineteen, with a light, fuzzy mustache
and eyes that were a trifle shifty.
"Would you be so kind as to tell me--"
He broke off abruptly as he recognized Percy.
"By the Great Horn Spoon!" he almost shouted, "if it isn't P.
Whittington! Percy, old man, what do you mean by hiding yourself away
offshore in a lonesome spot like this? Come aboard! Come aboard! The old
crowd's there--Ben Brimmer and Martin Sayles and Mordaunt and Mack and
Barden. I've chartered the _Arethusa_, and invited 'em to spend a month
with me along the New England coast. We're not having a time of it--oh
no! or my name isn't Chauncey Pike!"
His eyes dwelt curiously on the details of Percy's costume and
occupation.
"What you masquerading for? Hiding from the sheriff?"
Percy met his gaze evenly. His estimate of men and the things that make
life worth living had undergone a material change during the last two
months. Pike's jesting flowed off him like water off a duck. He
introduced the other members of Spurling & Company, and Pike greeted
them cordially.
"I want you all to take dinner on board with us to-night. We've got a
first-class chef, and I'll have him do his prettiest. 'Tisn't every day
you run across an old friend."
Jim was inclined to demur, but Pike would not take no for an answer, and
he finally gave in when Percy added his entreaties to those of the
yachtsman.
"Signal the yacht when you're through, Perce," said the latter as he
rowed away, "and I'll send ashore for you. I know your friends here will
excuse you for a while if you come aboard and talk over old times with
us."
"Better let me set you ashore now," said Jim, "so you can wash up and
change your clothes."
"Not much!" refused Percy. "I'll see every fish salted first."
He was as good as his word. Not until the last hake lay on the top of
its brethren in the hogshead did he take off his oilskins and prepare
for his visit to the yacht. At his signal the boat rowed in and took him
aboard. He received an uproarious greeting from his former friends. The
first welcome over, he came in for more or less chaffing.
"Boys," jeered Pike, "what do you suppose I found this modest,
salt-water violet--or barnacle, I should say--doing? Actually dressed in
oil-clothes and cleaning fish! Think of it! P. Whittington, the one and
only! Wouldn't his friends along Fifth Avenue like to see him in that
rig! Honest, Perce, if I wanted to bury myself, I'd pick a cemetery
where the occupants didn't have to perform so much bone labor. I'd
rather face the firing-squad than do what you were doing this
afternoon."
"Guess you're telling the truth, Chauncey," retorted Percy.
"Come down below and let's have a drink all round!"
"Not unless it's Poland water," said Percy, firmly. "The one drawback
about this island is that the only spring's brackish. If you've any good
bottled water I'll be glad to drink with you, but nothing stronger."
"Just listen to that, fellows! Well, have your own way, Perce! We've a
dozen carboys of spring water aboard, and you can drink 'em all if you
want to. Try these cigarettes!"
"Swore off over a month ago."
"No! Shouldn't think you'd find life worth living. What do you have for
amusement?"
"We're too busy to need any," replied Percy, truthfully.
Pike looked serious. Removing Percy's cap, he tapped his head with the
tips of his fingers.
"There's some trouble inside," he said at last, "but I can't quite make
out what it is. I think we'll have to take him up to the city to consult
some prominent alienist, as the newspapers would say. But first he's
going east in the _Arethusa_ with Doctor Pike. Come on, Perce! Put off
the sackcloth and ashes, or rather the oilskins and fish-scales, and
travel with us for a while. We're all artists aboard, but we paint in
only one color, and that's a deep, rich red! We're going to spread it
over Castine and Bar Harbor and Campobello, and we want your esteemed
assistance. Do we have it?"
Percy shook his head.
"You do not," he declined. "I'm booked for college in the fall, and I'm
studying to make up my conditions."
Pike looked sadly round at the others.
"And so young!" he lamented. "I presume your friends ashore share your
sentiments, and we'll have to take 'em into consideration in planning
for that dinner to-night. Wouldn't have any scruples, would you, about
beginning with a clear soup, then tackling a juicy beef roast with all
the fixings, and winding up with lemon pie and ice-cream?"
"Lead me to it," grinned Percy. "Well, fellows, I'm mighty glad to see
you, even if we don't agree on all points. Now I've an engagement ashore
for a half-hour or so, and if you'll set me on the beach I'll come
aboard with the others."
Curious eyes followed him as he climbed the bluff with his sweater and
plunged into the woods. At six he rowed out with the rest of the
Spurlingites, Filippo included. The dinner to which they sat down was
one they remembered for the rest of the season. Pike had not overpraised
his French chef. Everybody had a good time, and at the close of the meal
a toast was drunk--in spring water--to the continued success of Spurling
& Company. The boys went ashore early.
No trawling was done the next morning, as it was the regular day for the
trip to Matinicus. The _Barracouta_ started at nine o'clock. At about
the same time the yacht catted her anchor, fired a farewell gun, and
proceeded eastward, her passengers first lining up and giving three
cheers for their guests of the night before, and receiving a similar
salute in return.
"Perce," said Jim as the sloop rose and sank on the swells on her way
over to Seal Island, "if you won't think me impertinent, I'd like to ask
you a question."
"Fire ahead!"
"You can tell me or not, just as you please, but I've been wondering
since last night whether, right down at the bottom of your heart, you'd
rather be with your friends on the yacht or with us on the island."
"That's an easy one, Jim," replied Percy. "And the best answer I can
make is the fact I'm on the boat with you this minute. I had an
invitation to go with them, and I declined it. Things look different to
me from what they did two months ago."
At Matinicus Percy found a letter from his father, answering his epistle
of a few weeks before.
DEAR PERCY [it ran],--Glad to hear you're on the job. Keep it up.
Percy countered that night as follows:
DEAR DAD,--I'm still sticking.