ON BOARD THE "KITTY"
"Hello!" exclaimed Jack, in astonishment. "I never knew such large craft
came here."
"It's really haunted," replied Meg. "Mustn't go near it."
The young machinist laughed.
"Seems to me everything is haunted around here," he said, "Were you ever
on board?"
"Nope, Pooler would kill me if I went. He's terrible when he's mad;"
and Meg shook her head as the memory of past trials arose in her mind.
Meanwhile Mont had gone on ahead, and now, not without some difficulty,
reached the deck of the stranded vessel. Jack followed him, leaving the
girl behind.
"Don't be long, please," called out Meg; "I don't like to stay here, and
besides, I've got to get back, you know."
"We will stay only a few minutes," replied the young machinist.
Mont had walked aft, and picking his way over the odds and ends that
littered the deck, Jack joined him.
"Jack, do you know what I believe?" asked the young man, when they were
out of Meg's hearing.
"What?"
"I believe that this yacht was once my father's," replied Mont,
earnestly. "His was named the Kitty, and was last seen on this river,
above Corney. He used it to cruise around the lakes in."
"Yes, but that was above the falls," returned Jack. "You don't
mean----" he began.
"Yes, I do. The water was higher years ago, and I'm convinced that his
boat was caught in the stream and went over the falls."
Jack stepped back in astonishment.
"But he could never live through it," he cried.
"He was never seen after that," returned the young man, gravely, "Yet we
came out alive," he added. "If he was on the boat he might have
escaped."
Mont led the way carefully down the half-rotten companion way into the
cabin below.
There the air was foul and stifling. It was totally dark, but Jack
stumbled around until he found a small window and threw open a shutter.
A curious sight met their gaze. The place looked as if it had been left
immediately after a struggle, although this might have been caused by a
violent movement of the craft. A big armchair lay upset in one corner,
with a pile of books in another. On the table lay a pile of written and
printed papers, some of which had been swept to the floor, and were
covered with the ink from an upturned bottle, which, however, had dried
years before. Dust, mold and cobwebs were everywhere.
Jack picked up some of the written matter and brushing off the dust
tried to read it.
"It seems to be an agreement," he said to Mont, who was looking over his
shoulder. "An agreement about an invention, that----"
"It is my father's handwriting!" exclaimed the young man, in an
unnatural voice; "I could tell it in a thousand."
Jack turned the document over.
"I guess you're right," he said. "It seems to relate to some
improvement in making tools." He looked at the title. "Gracious me!"
"What is it?" cried Mont.
"It is drawn up between the Gray Brothers of the first part, and Martin
Willington of the second!"
"And Martin Willington----" began the young man.
"Martin Willington was my father!" ejaculated the young machinist, in
great surprise.
At that instant both heard Meg's voice calling loudly.
"Better clear out. Here comes Pooler, and that Andy Mosey is with him!"
Jack and Mont were startled by the unexpected cry from Meg. Both were
thoroughly absorbed in the document which the former had picked up from
the floor, and for an instant neither caught the full meaning of the
girl's announcement.
"Andy Mosey!" repeated the young machinist, looking up from the agitated
reading of that faded manuscript. "How in the world did he get here?"
"Heaven only knows!" ejaculated Mont. "Affairs seem to be all mixed,
and I give it up. One thing is certain: he and Pooler are close
friends."
"Or else have a mutual interest at stake," was Jack's comment. "Just as
we two seem to have here," he continued, folding up the paper and
putting it in an inside pocket.
"You're right. But what brings Mosey up to this end of the island?"
"Perhaps he thinks to find one or both of our bodies," suggested the
young machinist.
"Did you hear me?" called out Meg again. "Pooler and Mosey are comin',
and they've both got guns! Better skip out!"
Meg's language was forcible even if not well chosen. In her anxiety to
do her two friends a good turn, she had overcome her dread of the
so-styled haunted craft, and approached to within a few feet of the
side, so that her shrill voice sounded plainly.
"It's a shame to leave these things here," said Mont, as he too, stuffed
several papers in his pockets. "This boat was undoubtedly my father's
property, and I believe I'm entitled to whatever is here."
"Certainly you are," replied Jack. "As it is, I intend to come back
myself. But we can't do much, now, and if those two men see us they may
make it very unpleasant, to say the least."
"Wish we were armed. This is the first chance I have ever had of
learning the true state of my father's affairs, and how he died, and I
don't want to leave until I have sifted the matter thoroughly."
Mont was already on the companionway, and Jack quickly followed him.
"It's queer that Pooler should know that this stranded boat is here, and
yet not touch a thing on board," remarked the young machinist. "He
seems to be so close, it's a wonder he hasn't carried all the stuff
away."
"You don't remember that he thinks this is haunted," replied Mont.
Jack laughed.
"Do you believe that yarn?" he asked.
"Not altogether; yet the man is certainly a strange fellow."
Meg was eagerly awaiting them on the shore.
"I don't see Mosey and Pooler," said Jack, as he stepped to the rail and
looked over.
"They're comin' through the woods," explained the young girl, hurriedly;
"I just saw 'em through the clearing ahead."
"What brings them here?" asked Mont.
"Don't know. Pooler comes only once in a great while, and I never knew
that Mosey to go anywhere but to the cottage."
"Well, what shall we do?" asked the young man, turning to Jack.
"Better get out of his way," suggested Meg. "He's a wicked man when he's
mad, and he'll be the maddest man in the district if he catches you two
on this boat."
"Suppose we go below and hide," replied the young machinist. "It ought
to be an easy thing to do so on such a craft as this."
"Just the idea!" exclaimed Mont. "How slow of me not to think of it."
"But how about the girl?"
"Ain't you goin'?" asked Meg impatiently.
"No; we intend to hide on board," replied Jack. "We were just thinking
about you. I hope you won't tell Mr. Pooler where we are?"
"Not unless you want me to."
"Which we certainly do not."
"Suppose you go back to the boat, and get it ready," replied the young
machinist after a moment's thought. "We may wish to leave in a hurry."
"All right."
"I can trust you?" he added, with a smile.
"Trust me? Just you try me, that's all!" and with a toss of her head,
Meg darted away into the bushes, and was lost to sight.
At the same instant Mont caught hold of Jack and dragged him behind the
cabin.
"I just saw Mosey and this Pooler through those trees yonder!" he
exclaimed. "They'll be here in another moment!"
"Let's go below at once. We want to get the 'lay of the land,' and
secure the best place we can," returned the young machinist, leading the
way back to the cabin.
They found several staterooms, all but one of which were locked. The
open one seemed to be as inviting a place as any, and this they entered,
closing the door carefully behind them.
They were none too soon, for hardly had they settled in the place before
they heard the two men clamber on board.
The newcomers were evidently having a spirited confab, but as the deck
was thick, not a word could be heard below. Their heavy boots sounded
up and down the planking several times, and then the two in hiding heard
them come down into the cabin.
"You must have been mistaken," Max Pooler was saying; "I know they were
on the island, but the girl rowed 'em to the mainland half an hour ago."
"Oi say no," replied Mosey. "Oi seen them coming over here from me
boat. But why should they be on the island at all?" he continued with
apparent indifference.
"They fell in the river and went over the falls."
"And lived? Come now, Max----"
"They say so, anyway. Of course I didn't believe the story. I guess
they're only a couple of young tramps," said the master of the island.
"But if they are still hanging around I want to know it."
"Tramps!" burst out the Irishman. "Phat are ye talkin' about? Do ye
mane to say ye don't know who they are?"
"Why no," replied Max Pooler in surprise.
He had tried the doors of two of the staterooms, and was now walking
toward the others.
"Well, thin, let me tell ye, one was Jack Willington, whose father got
up that machinery years ago----"
"What!"
"And the other wan was Monteray Gray's son."
The miser of the island uttered a loud cry.
"You are fooling!" he said, excitedly.
"No, I ain't."
"Why, I thought his son was dead, that he--he died here," continued Max
Pooler, with a white face.
Mosey laughed, a cold, hard laugh.
"Max, me b'y, ye can't kill that lad. If ye'd go out into the worruld
more ye'd larn more. Now his father----"
The miser of the island grasped the Irishman fiercely by the shoulder.
"Stop there!" he commanded; "I won't have it--remember that--I won't
have it!"