A VAIN EFFORT TO RECOVER STOLEN PROPERTY
Leaping ashore the moment his skiff grated on the beach, Peveril
stepped directly up to the old man and said:
"I do not know who you are, sir, nor what claim you make to ownership
in those logs. I do know, however, that they bear the private mark of
the White Pine Mining Company, and formed part of a raft recently
wrecked on this coast. Having been sent here expressly to secure this
property, I am determined to use every endeavor to carry out my
instructions. Such being the case, I trust that you will not interfere
with the performance of my duty."
"I shall, though," answered the old man, gruffly. "I have need of this
timber, and consider that I have a just claim to it, seeing that it
was cast up by the sea on my land. I have also expended a great amount
of labor in bringing it to this place; so that if I had no other claim
I have one for salvage."
"Which will doubtless be allowed when presented in proper form,"
replied Peveril. "In the meantime I am ordered to take possession of
all logs that I may find bearing the W. P. mark."
"Supposing I forbid you to do so?"
"I am also authorized to use force, if necessary, to carry out my
instructions."
"That sounds very much like a threat, my young friend; but I decline
to be frightened by it, and still forbid you to touch those logs."
Joe Pintaud had followed his young leader ashore, and stood close
beside him during the foregoing interview, while the Bohemians still
remained in the skiff. Now, without deigning any further reply to the
old man, Peveril, in a low tone, ordered the Canadian to provide
himself and the others with poles, and, if possible, shove the raft
off from shore, adding that he would join in their efforts the moment
he had cast loose its moorings.
As Joe started to obey these instructions, Peveril ran to the farther
of two ropes holding the raft and unfastened it. While he did this the
old man stood without remonstrance, but with a cynical smile on his
thin lips.
Finding himself uninterrupted, Peveril fancied that no resistance was
to be offered, after all, and, with the carelessness of confidence,
stooped to cast off the remaining line. The next instant a nervous
shove from behind sent him headforemost into the lake. Just then there
came a rush of feet, and as Peveril, half-choked by his sudden bath in
the icy water, rose to the surface and attempted to regain the bank he
was seized by half a dozen pair of brawny hands belonging to as many
wild-looking men who had been summoned from beyond the ridge.
In another minute the young wrecker was lying in the bottom of his own
skiff, and it was being towed out to sea by a second boat manned by
two lusty foreigners. In its stern-sheets sat the old man holding a
cocked revolver, from which he threatened to put a bullet through
Peveril's head if he lifted it above the gunwale.
Under the circumstances the latter, though raging at his sudden
discomfiture, deemed it best to lie still and await, with what
patience he might, the result of his misadventure.
So he was towed for a long distance, and when his skiff finally seemed
to have lost motion and be drifting, he ventured to lift his head.
Before he could see over the side there came the sharp report of a
pistol, a bullet whistled close above him, and he was ordered to
remain quiet until he received permission to sit up.
Peveril obeyed, and for nearly half an hour longer lay motionless.
Then his craft struck bottom, and he sprang up in alarm. He was alone,
and his skiff was bumping against a black ledge that he recognized as
the one lying at the foot of the mysterious cliff. Not a boat was to
be seen, but on the rocks close at hand lay the oars that had been
taken from his skiff when he was thrown into it. They were not lying
together, but at some distance apart, as though flung there, but
whether from a boat or from some other direction he could not tell. At
any rate, he was thankful to have them, and at once began to plan how
he should use them in connection with his regained liberty.
At first his indignation at his recent treatment suggested that he row
back and attempt, at least, to recover his men; but a moment's
reflection showed the folly of such a scheme. Not only would he again
be confronted by an overpowering number of opponents, but it was
probable that his men were even then on their way overland to Laughing
Fish, for he did not believe the old man would dare hold them
prisoners. At any rate, it would be best to rejoin them before
planning to gain possession of the logs in the basin, upon which he
was still determined.
Although the young man did not know it, he was keenly watched during
these moments of indecision by a pair of bright eyes that peered down
from the cliff above him. When he shiveringly re-entered his skiff the
eyes were hastily withdrawn lest he should look up. A little later a
young girl of slight figure, clad in a dark gown, stepped out from the
cliff, as from behind a curtain, and, half concealed by the stunted
cedar, watched him curiously until he was lost to view.
"He is ever so different from an ordinary miner," she soliloquized,
"and looks as though he might be interesting. I wonder if I shall ever
see him again? I am glad I thought of getting these oars and throwing
them down, even if he has used them to go away with. What will papa
think when he finds them gone? Anyhow, the monotony of this stupid
place has been broken at last, and now, perhaps, something else will
happen. I believe something must be going to happen very soon, anyhow,
from the way papa talks. Dear papa! how queerly he acts, and how I
wish I could see him happy just once! Now I must go and tell him that
the schooner is coming."
With this the girl apparently performed a miracle, for she seemed to
push aside a portion of the red-stained cliff and disappear behind it
without leaving a trace of an opening.
As Peveril rowed steadily down the coast he saw in the distance a
schooner that he believed to be the one belonging to Joe Pintaud's
friends beating up from the southward. For a moment he thought of
trying to board her, but, quickly dismissing the idea, doggedly
pursued his way.
Arrived at the cove, he was disappointed to find his camp vacant and
without a sign that his coming companions had returned to it. Building
a fire, he made a pot of coffee, and prepared to await their coming
with what patience he could command. Some of the fisher-children came
and watched him shyly, but when he attempted to draw them into
conversation they only laughed and ran away.
Feeling very lonely, and undecided as to what he should do, he had
just begun to eat a lunch of cold food prepared by Joe that morning
when a plan occurred to him. It was to set forth on foot to meet his
men, failing to do which he could at least spy out the enemy's
strength. "I can discover, too, what lies behind that ridge, and where
they are carrying those logs," he said, half aloud.
[Illustration: THE MEN HASTILY THREW PEVERIL HEAD-FIRST INTO THE
BUSHES]
So impatient was he to put this plan into execution that he would not
wait to finish his lunch, but, swallowing a mug of coffee and stuffing
a few hard biscuit into the ample pockets of his now nearly dry coat,
he set forth. Coming across a well-trodden though narrow trail,
leading in what he believed to be the right direction, he turned into
it, and followed it briskly for several miles.
It was by this time late afternoon, and long shadows were creeping
over the rugged upland country that he traversed. No house was to be
seen, nor evidence of human occupation. All the large timber having
been long since cut off, the region was now covered with a ragged
second growth and thick underbrush. Extensive tracts had been burned
over, and thousands of small trees, standing in the melancholy
attitudes of death, added to the desolation of the scene. Every now
and then he passed yawning prospect-holes, offering mute evidence of
disappointed hopes.
At length he caught a whiff of smoke, a dull clang of machinery came
to his ears; and, with curiosity keenly aroused, he pursued his way
more cautiously. A few minutes later he reached a point where he
caught glimpses of buildings, evidently belonging to a mine. A tall
shaft-house was surrounded by various shops and a cluster of
dwellings, most of them very humble in appearance, though one was
large and pretentious.
Although smoke was curling lazily from a lofty stack, that he imagined
belonged to an engine-house, and though there was a certain amount of
noise, as of machinery in motion, there were no other signs of
activity about the place. In fact, it was pervaded by an aspect of
desolation and desertion. There were no hurrying men nor teams. Most
of the buildings appeared to be permanently closed; doors were boarded
up, windows were broken, and the smaller dwellings were almost hidden
by the rank growth of weeds and bushes that closely surrounded them.
As Peveril stared in perplexity at this melancholy picture his
attention was attracted by a sound of voices near at hand. He gazed
eagerly, and even took a few steps forward, hoping to meet his own
party, but was grievously disappointed to see instead a group of three
burly strangers clad in mining costume. As they drew near he
recognized them to be Bohemians, and was particularly struck by the
hideous expression of him who seemed to act as leader of the party.
Although the new-comers started at sight of the young man, and
regarded him with scowling faces as they drew near, they did not speak
nor offer to molest him, but passed by in silence.
Disappointed that they were not his own men, but relieved to be so
easily rid of them, Peveril again turned his attention to the
semi-deserted mining village that had so aroused his curiosity. So
deeply interested did he at once become in watching a team of oxen
that had just appeared, hauling a log over a rise of ground, that he
did not hear the approach of stealthy footsteps nor note the crouching
forms creeping up behind him. Closer and closer they came, until they
were within reach of their unconscious victim. Then they sprang upon
him all at once, and he was hurled to the ground.
In another moment his arms were bound, and he recognized in one
distorted face, leering close above his own, that of the man who had
led the attack on him in the mine, and whom he had sent reeling away
with a broken jaw.
Now the cruel face was rendered doubly hideous by a grin of triumph,
and Peveril's heart sank within him as he gazed into the pitiless eyes
that lighted its brutish features.