MEG TO THE RESCUE
The last part of Mosey and Max Pooler's conversation would no doubt have
greatly interested Jack and Mont had they heard it, but the truth was
that as soon as they saw the two men preparing to search the place, they
immediately sought for some means to escape.
In one corner of the stateroom they found a small door leading by a
narrow passage to what, for the want of a better name, may be termed the
forecastle. Why it had been put there was not apparent--except,
perhaps, to allow a direct communication between the captain and the
men, but nevertheless, they used it, and when Max Pooler spoke so
sharply to Mosey, the two in hiding had again regained the deck, and did
not hear the short quarrel that followed.
"Where to now?" asked Mont, "We can't stay here, that's certain."
"There is Meg with the boat!" exclaimed Jack, pointing down the shore.
"Wonder if we can get her to come alongside without them finding it
out?"
"We can try," replied the young man, and taking out his handkerchief, he
waved it vigorously.
In an instant the young girl caught the signal, and came rowing up.
"Where are they?" she asked, anxiously.
"Down below," replied Jack in a whisper. "Don't make a noise or they
will hear you."
"All right. Jump in, both of you."
Mont and Jack were not slow in taking her advice. Both scrambled over
the rotten rail, and into the boat, which fortunately was rather roomy.
"Shall I take the oars?" asked the young machinist, who, though not an
expert, could still handle the oars fairly well.
"Nope. I can row better'n either of you. Off we go!" And with one
quick stroke this slender girl sent the craft far out on the water.
Before she had time to take a dozen strokes Max Pooler appeared upon the
deck closely followed by Mosey.
The surprise was great on both sides, and for an instant nothing was
said or done.
"Come back, Meg!" called out Max Pooler, rushing to the rail as soon as
he had recovered from his astonishment. "Come back, or it will be the
worse for you!"
"I'm goin' to row 'em over to the shore," replied the young girl. "It's
just what I started to do."
The master of the island stamped his foot in rage. "You little good for
nothing! Bring that boat back without another word!"
Meg continued to row without replying.
"Do you intend to mind me?" screamed Max Pooler. "If you don't, as sure
as I live I'll shoot you!" and he drew up his gun as he spoke.
"Hold up!" shouted Mont, fearful of harm coming to the girl. "We'll
come aboard."
"No we won't!" put in Meg, with a strong show of spirit, "I said I'd
take you to the mainland, and I'll keep my word, shootin' or no
shootin'!"
Max Pooler pulled back the hammer of the gun he carried. Seeing the
action Jack jumped up and placed himself directly in front of the girl.
"Thanks," said Meg. "It's mighty good of you to try to save me, but I
don't want you to run such a risk. I've got to have it out with him
sooner or later, and now is as good a time as any," and she placed
herself again in range.
"Did you hear what I said?" called Max Pooler, leaning over to make
himself heard: "I'll give you just five seconds to turn that----"
Crack!
As I have stated, the guardrail on the yacht was rotten, and under the
unusual weight, it gave way with a crash.
Splash!
The miser of the island had lost his balance, and after vainly clutching
the air to save himself, had floundered into the water and mud below!
[Illustration: THE MISER OF THE ISLAND HAD LOST HIS BALANCE, AND AFTER
VAINLY CLUTCHING THE AIR TO SAVE HIMSELF, HAD FLOUNDERED INTO THE WATER
AND MUD BELOW.]
"Hello!" exclaimed Jack. "There's an accident that's lucky for us."
"He'll have all he can do to take care of himself," remarked Mont.
"Serves him right," put in Meg, with a laugh. She had not taken the
whole affair very seriously. "Maybe it'll cool his blood."
The three saw Mosey rush to Max Pooler's assistance, and then, without
waiting to see the outcome of the mishap, the girl again bent to the
oars, and sent the boat flying onward.
"What do you intend to do?" asked Jack of Meg, as they neared the shore.
"You can't very well go back. I'll help you if I can."
"I don't know," replied the young girl, in perplexity. "I've had enough
of life over there."
"Suppose you go over to Farmer Farrell's with us, I think he will board
you for a few days anyway, and in the meantime you can find out what's
best to do."
"I ain't got no money."
"We'll make that all right," replied the young machinist. "But didn't
Pooler ever pay you anything?"
"Pay me? Don't catch him giving out a cent if he can help it. All I
got was these duds--'em as was left when his wife died."
"Not much, certainly," put in Mont, surveying the tattered and patched
dress.
"Other folks earn money, and I guess I can, too, if I try," continued
Meg, as she ran the boat up the accustomed beaching place.
"Certainly you can," declared Jack.
"And have a better living than you had at the island," added the young
man.
It was growing dusk when they stepped ashore. Meg tied the boat fast and
left the oars on the seats, certain that the craft would not remain
uncalled for long.
It was but a short walk to Farmer Farrell's place. They found him
driving home the cows, and on the doorstep, joined by his wife, the two
honest people listened to what Jack and Mont had to say about themselves
and Meg.
The girl stood in the background, much of her former shyness having
returned. At the conclusion of the tale, Mrs. Farrell took her hand
warmly.
"Poor child! you've had a hard time of it, truly!" she said, "But you
sha'n't have any more trouble--at least, not for the present, eh,
father?"
"No, we can keep her easily enough," replied her husband. "You want
help, Martha, summer coming on, with all the extra work."
"And we'll pay you, too," continued Mrs. Farrell.
"Oh, thank you!" exclaimed Meg. "You 're real kind. Maybe I can't do
things just right, but I guess I can learn, and you needn't give me a
cent till I do."
"Then, that's settled," said Jack, somewhat pleased at having the matter
so easily arranged.
"If only Pooler don't make me go back."
"You say you're no relation of his?" asked Mont.
"Not's I know. He always called me a picked-up."
"Then just let him try it," put in Farmer Farrell, grimly. "I know the
man well. He pretends to own Blackbird Island, but he hain't got no
more title 'n I have."
"And maybe I can get you a few dresses from my sister, and----" began
Jack.
"Well, there, by Jinks!" exclaimed Farmer Farrell, jumping up from the
step upon which he had been sitting. "I almost forgot it, being so
interested in your story. Your sister was here looking for you."
"Deb!" Jack was indeed astonished, and so was Mont. "What did she want
here? Looking for me?"
"Yes; she's had a terrible time. Your model's stolen, and she's been
put out of the house for not paying the rent."
The news startled the young machinist. In the excitement he had
forgotten all about Mr. Hammerby and the quit notice.
"Did she say where she had moved to?" he asked anxiously.
"No, she was in too much of a hurry. She was frightened half to death
on account of your being missing."
"No doubt of it. Poor Deb! Her troubles are as bad as ours," remarked
Mont.
"Which way did she go?" was the young machinist's question.
"Toward home again," said Farrell; "I wanted her to stay the worst way
when I found out who she was, but she wouldn't think of it."
"Maybe we can overtake her," suggested Mont.
"We'll try, anyway," returned Jack.
He was much worried over the fact that Deb had been compelled to vacate
the old home; and then he suddenly remembered that all of his money had
been stolen by Corrigan.
"Without a home and without money," he thought dismally. "Well, thank
God, my life has been spared, and, as Deb said, 'maybe it will all come
out right in the end.'"
Yet his heart was by no means light, as Mont and he set out for Corney.