JEEK THREATENS AGAIN
It was the day of the last football game of the season. Not much of
a day to speak of, either. It was cold, drear, the skies were leaden
colored and heavy, and, with a north wind blowing down the field while
flakes of snow whirled and twisted on their way to the earth, it was
not an altogether pleasant game.
It was a game that had not been intended, but on account of the
attitude which the town of Coville, located down the river and on the
opposite bank, had taken during the season, there was little else for
the boys of Columbia to do but to grant an after-season game.
“We can play it through and end the season,” said Frank Allen. “But I
am fearful that the minds of several of the fellows won’t be as much on
the game as on the camping expedition in a few days.”
The morning had opened with an attempt at a drizzle, which turned
quickly to sleet, and the field was holding out the promise of being
heavy and slippery.
By the middle of the morning, though, when the boys had become
accustomed to the thought of playing their last game on a field that
would not allow much individual fast work, the wind from the north came
suddenly in.
At noon the mud of the morning had frozen hard, the skies had gathered
lower and turned colder in their appearance, while the snow flakes
drifted and whirled and twisted, first up, then down, sideways, hither
and yon, touching the ground and being blown into little drifts against
buildings, fences, sidewalks, trees and even foot and hoof-prints in
the streets.
It was an enthusiastic crowd, but not a large one, that watched the
final game. Coville tried hard to break through the impregnable line of
Columbia, but it was a useless attempt.
However, there was compensation evident, for Columbia did not find it
at first an easy task to get down the field against these warriors of
Coville. It was in the third quarter that the first touchdown was made,
after battering the Coville line so often that a soft spot was worn
in it--and then the game went swiftly over to Columbia. The morale of
Coville broke with the initial touchdown, and the fierce defensiveness
of Coville broke against the onslaughts of the boys of Columbia who,
led by a thinker, smashed, battered and wore down one place in the
line.
“Glad we played you,” said Frank as he shook hands with the Coville
captain. “You’ve got a good team, captain, and next year all these
schools along the river are going to have a hard time even to hold you.”
“It’s good of you to say so, Allen,” replied the husky young Covillian.
“We didn’t make much impression on you to-day, though.”
“Yes, you did! You made us use up two quarters trying to make a place
where we could go through. And you held us so that we couldn’t go
around. And you stopped most of our attempts to pass the ball. I’ll say
you did mighty well. It’s just that we have played so long together we
know what the other fellow is thinking and doing every second.”
Frank felt this way, else he would not have spoken to his adversary.
It would be different in another year, when the Columbia team would be
broken up and scattered, and the same team work would no longer exist.
“I hear you fellows are going in camp up on Old Moose lake,” said the
Coville captain as they walked away from the field arm in arm. “I’ve
heard some great stories of camping up there. They say the fishing is
simply great. And, say, have you heard the story of the old bull moose
that so many men have tried to get? My father told me yesterday that he
had been there twice with parties who wanted to get him, but they say
he is as wise as a fox.”
Frank listened to this with eager ears, for the story which Mr. Van
Kirk had told them was the first he had ever heard of this monster of
the woods. He asked several questions, but the boy from Coville very
quickly exhausted his store of knowledge.
That evening, in the front room of the Allen home, with no one to
interrupt, Frank and his three chums went carefully over all the
preparations for the trip.
“If it keeps up the way it is and doesn’t turn any colder,” said Frank,
“we’ll go by water up to Todds, using the _Rocket_. But if it turns
much colder in the next two days and if the river freezes over, it
looks to me as if skates would take us most of the way.”
“Do you know the exact way?” Buster Billings asked.
“Sure!” Frank replied. “I’ve got it right here on this sketch. It’s a
sketch that Mr. Parsons used to have, and Mrs. Parsons gave it to me
only yesterday. See here?” He pulled from his pocket a piece of paper
which had been used until the folds had worn, and then had been pasted
on a sheet of cloth. “We go up the Harrapin to Todds, and there we
leave the boat--unless we skate, in which case we get off the river and
take to land. From there it is a straight trip eastward through the
mountains by trail to the lake. I don’t know what all these marks are,
but I presume they are other camps along the trail at different places
in the mountains where there are other lakes.”
The matter of food was discussed, but there was little to be carried,
since Mrs. Parsons had promised to send up food to add to the store
already at the camp.
“So, you see, fellows,” went on Frank, “our rifles, fishing outfits,
heavy clothes, a couple of good ropes, plenty of ammunition, plenty of
matches, a couple of flashlights, one or two compasses, and skates are
about all we’ll need.”
The boys all agreed that it was the better plan to travel light.
“To-morrow morning I have to make a trip up-river a short distance with
the _Rocket_, and you fellows can be gathering together all the things
that we need and checking over the list. Lanky, suppose you act as
secretary to this expedition, and make out the list and see that every
fellow has his part.” Frank Allen was strictly the leader, the one who
thought things out, and so it held in this case.
It was just after breakfast the next morning that Frank went to Minnie
Cuthbert’s home and asked her to go on the trip up the river with him.
“Just a little trip on an errand for dad. He says he would rather I
would go than any one else, and I want to try out the _Rocket_ before
we start to the camp,” he said as he invited her to join him.
Minnie accepted at once, and donned a heavy coat and close-fitting hat,
looking bright, lithe and active, as she skipped down the steps to come
alongside Frank for a brisk walk to the wharf.
“I have a package I want you to take with you to your camp,” Minnie
said to Frank when the _Rocket_ was well under way.
Curious, naturally so, Frank asked what the package contained, but
Minnie refused to divulge the proposed contents.
They fell to chatting gaily over the various little happenings of “the
crowd,” as the motor boat, under medium speed, facing into a brisk,
chilly wind, glided easily through the water.
“Have you heard anything more from that big brute whose dog you
killed?” she suddenly asked, changing the trend of the conversation.
Frank told her he had heard nothing.
“But you’re going to hear from him, Frank,” she went on. “He had a mean
look in his eye that day. I heard father say something last night that
didn’t sound good. He said that Jeek was a dangerous character and
that the only reason he was not in jail was that others were afraid to
tell the truth about him.”
“Oh, well,” Frank turned the subject off lightly, “I hardly expect any
trouble. You know, we sent the doctor up there to look at the dog.”
“You hadn’t told me. What did he say?”
“He told me,” replied Frank, “that the dog was mad without doubt.
He said, when I asked him about the season, that frequently a
high-spirited dog went mad at other seasons than mid-summer, though the
cases were rare. But, the point that I was most interested in was that
he signed a statement and gave it to me to the effect that the dog was
mad when killed.”
“What good will that do if that brute causes you trouble?” she asked.
“Well,” returned Frank good-naturedly, “it shows that I didn’t do
anything so very wrong when I shot the dog.”
Frank saw the landing to which he was headed only a short distance away
and sent the _Rocket_ in toward shore.
A farmhouse stood back on the right bank of the Harrapin, a well-kept
place. A long motor boat, loaded with packs which resembled the
supplies of a camping party, was lying alongside the landing place,
taking up every available foot of space.
Carefully, slowly, Frank eased the _Rocket_ up to the spot, trying to
see a place where he might touch. There was none.
Whereupon, he brought the _Rocket_ alongside the other boat, sliding as
easily as he could against it, but bumping it, nevertheless.
Then he took one end of the rope and stepped on to the other boat, from
there to the landing, and carefully tied. Minnie very gingerly stepped
into the other boat, too, and came ashore.
“Hi, there! What’s the matter? Got no sense? Get that skiff of yours
away so I can get out. What do you mean locking me in that way? Trying
to hog the river?”
Frank turned to see whose was this heavy, coarse, fierce voice, and
faced Fordham Jeek!
“Oho, it’s you, eh? What’re you trying to do? Get stuff out of my
boat?” and the big fellow showed his yellow teeth and pushed his head
forward from the broad shoulders.
Frank was looking him straight in the eye, while two shifty men stood
behind the man from Bellport.
“Best thing we can do for you, young fellow, is to throw you into the
river. What’s on my boat that you want?” the big man kept on.
“Listen, you!” returned Frank, calm of voice and cool. “You’ve said
just about enough. I’m here to attend to some business and not to have
you throwing insults.”
“Don’t talk to your betters that way, you low-down dog killer!” yelped
Jeek.
“Move along, big boy,” quietly answered Frank. “I’m not hunting for
trouble. Want to get out? I’ll move off while you get away,” with which
he motioned Minnie aboard, followed her, and backed the _Rocket_.
“Thought you’d change your tune!” sneered Jeek. “You ain’t paid for the
dog yet. Going to pay for it? What? Better pay in money or I’ll take it
out of your hide.”
Frank kept silent. He circled around and came back to the landing as
the other boat pulled away.
“Oh, Frank, he’s a dreadful man! Better keep your eyes open or he’ll do
you harm,” remarked Minnie, when they were again alone.
“Don’t worry, Minnie,” was Frank’s answer. “He won’t dare do anything
very bad.”
But in this Frank Allen was mistaken.