BARR’S BIG GUN.
“I don’t blame you for being angry,” said Jones, after a few minutes’
pause. “I hold as you do, Mr. Barr—that the wild fowl which come into
this bay are the property of any one who can bring them to bag; and that
men who live hundreds of miles away, who come here only once a year, and
for a few days at a time, are taking a good deal upon themselves when
they presume to tell us how these wild birds shall be killed. Those
‘gentlemen sportsmen,’ as Enoch calls them, have no right to make laws
for my government, and I shall pay no attention to them.”
“No more will I,” said Barr, emphatically. “But I bet you I will pay
some attention to the fellers about here who are mean enough to side
with them and the detectives.”
“Was that you shooting last night?” asked Enoch, suddenly.
“I didn’t hear no shooting last night,” answered Barr, with another
sidelong glance at Lester.
“You have grown very suspicious since I saw you last,” said Enoch, with
some impatience in his tones. “But I tell you that you need not be
afraid to trust me or any one whom I endorse. We all heard a big gun
shortly after midnight, and I’ll bet my schooner against your sink-boat,
that if I were to look along the shores of Powell’s Island, I could find
the gun.”
Barr grinned, but made no reply.
“When are you going out again?” continued Enoch.
“Well, that depends,” said the gunner, hesitatingly. “If I see nothing
suspicious, I may go out the fore part of next week.”
“When you go, remember that we three want to go with you,” added Enoch.
“This fellow”—jerking his thumb over his shoulder towards Lester
Brigham—“is my chum and Jones’s. He lives way down in Mississippi, and
has never seen a big gun. We passed a portion of our last vacation at
his father’s house, and as Lester took pains to show us every thing of
interest there was to be seen in that part of the country, we desire to
reciprocate his kindness. You will let us know when you are going out,
won’t you? Hallo! What is the Sallie doing back here? I thought she went
on down the bay.”
So she did; but when Bert discovered that immense bed of canvas-backs
off Powell’s island, the skipper ran back to old Eph’s cabin after his
dog to entice the wild fowl within range. When Enoch saw her, she was
just rounding to in readiness to start down the bay again. He and the
rest watched her until she disappeared in the cove at the head of the
island, and then to quote from Lester Brigham, Barr swore until every
thing around him turned blue.
“Aha!” cried Enoch, and there was a triumphant ring in his voice.
“Didn’t I say that that big gun we heard last night was somewhere around
the island? If you think I can be of any service to you, I will run down
there and keep an eye on them. Of course they don’t know that the gun is
there, but if _you_ go down, they will suspect it.”
“All right,” said Barr, in tones that were husky with passion. “Go on,
and I will do you a friendly act the first chance I get.”
“Will you let us go out with you the next time you use the big gun?”
inquired Enoch, as he put the helm down and motioned to Jones to haul in
a little on the jib sheets.
“Yes, I will; honor bright,” answered Barr, eagerly. “Say, Enoch, the
gun is hid in the bushes on the banks of that little cove on the other
side of the island. You just hang around and see whether or not they
stumble on to it, and if they do, let me know it at once. I will put it
in a safer place before I go home to-night. I see one of my partners
down there in his canoe. I wish you would hail him as you go by and tell
him to come up here. I may need him.”
The Firefly ran up the bay until she cleared the decoys, and then
rounding to, filled away for Powell’s Island. Her captain seemed to be
in a very jovial mood.
“Didn’t we promise that we would help you square yards with those
fellows?” said he, addressing himself to Lester. “I wouldn’t like to be
in their boots if they find that gun; would you, Jones?”
“No, indeed,” was the quick reply. “Barr is just on the point of boiling
over already, and he won’t stand much more interference with his
business.”
“What do you think he would do to Egan if he and his crowd should find
that big gun and take possession of it?” asked Lester.
“O, Egan would not dare do that,” answered Jones. “He has no more right
to touch that big gun than he has to take charge of this schooner. The
most he could do would be to tell an officer where the gun was hidden,
and if he did that, Barr would improve the very first opportunity he got
to destroy some property for him or his father.”
“But how would that help me square yards with Don and Bert?” inquired
Lester. “I don’t like Egan, because he is Don’s friend; but still I
don’t care to see him injured.”
“Well, I do,” said Enoch, spitefully. “I haven’t forgotten how squarely
he went back on me during my first day at the academy. There I was, a
stranger in a strange place, and he wouldn’t introduce me to a single
student; and when he walked off toward the gate with some of his chums,
he told me to stay behind because he did not want me along. Do you think
I shall ever forget that? Not much.”
“It seems that Barr has got his big gun back again,” said Jones. “I mean
the one the detectives found on information furnished them by Gus Egan.”
“I am not at all surprised to hear it,” replied Enoch. “You see,” he
added, turning to Lester, “this man Simpson, of whom Barr spoke, is a
local detective, who has long been suspected of being in sympathy with
the big-gunners; and you know Barr hinted that it was through him that
he got his big gun back. The detectives often play into one another’s
hands, and I believe that for a hundred dollars Simpson could be bribed
to do almost anything. Look there, Brigham! Did you ever see such a
sight before?”
Up to this time the Firefly had been kept behind the island, so that her
approach would not be detected by the boys whom Enoch intended to watch;
but now she was obliged to stand out into the bay, and, as she rounded
the headland, Enoch caught sight of the flock of canvas-backs which old
Eph’s dog was tolling in toward the beach.
“No, I never saw so many ducks in one flock before,” replied Lester, as
soon as he had somewhat recovered from his surprise. “Why, Diamond Lake
would hardly hold them. Don’t those look like heads over there in the
grass?” he added, directing Enoch’s attention toward the cove where the
young wild fowlers were concealed.
“They are heads,” said Jones, after he had taken a look at the objects
through the spy-glass. “They were tolling that flock, and we came up
just in time to spoil their sport for them.”
“If I could have my way, they would never have the pleasure of shooting
a wild duck or anything else as long as they live,” snapped Lester.
“We have found them,” said Enoch. “Now we will sail around, far enough
from the shore to avoid arousing their suspicions, and keep an eye on
their movements through the glass. Barr’s big gun is hidden somewhere
near that cove, you know.”
Enoch kept on down the bay without one word of apology to the boys on
shore for frightening away the ducks, while Jones, at his suggestion,
settled himself down on a cushion in the cock-pit to observe and report
upon the actions of Egan and his party. The latter, all unconscious of
the fact that they were being closely watched, strolled leisurely along
the shore of the cove in the hope of picking up a few brace of snipes
for their next morning’s breakfast; and although they did not find the
game for which they were looking, they found something else for which
they were not looking. Jones, through the glass, saw them stop all on a
sudden, and bend down until their heads disappeared from view. They were
out of sight for a long time, and when they again arose to an upright
position, three of them were tugging and lifting at something which
seemed to be about as heavy as they could manage with their united
strength. When Jones saw that, he uttered a loud ejaculation of
astonishment.
“Enoch,” he exclaimed, “give me the tiller and you take the glass—quick.
Those fellows have found it, or else I am very much mistaken.”
Enoch seized the glass, and one look was all that was needed to show him
that the sharp-eyed young hunters had unearthed the poacher’s hidden
treasure.
“It is Barr’s big gun, sure enough,” said he. “They are trying to stand
it up on end so that they can take a good look at it.”
“One would think, from the way you talk, that you were glad of it,”
observed Lester.
“And so I am,” answered Enoch, gleefully, as he passed the glass over to
Lester and resumed his place at the tiller. “Do you not see that Barr
will be awful mad when we tell him of it, and that he will do something
to pay Egan for snooping around in this way? Now we will run up to his
sink-boat and see what he is going to do about it.”
“By gracious, Enoch!” exclaimed Jones, suddenly. “Just look at that,
will you?”
“Whew!” whistled the skipper. “It is all up with the big gun now. Barr
has seen it for the last time.”
Lester looked down the bay in the direction in which his two companions
were gazing, but could discover nothing to call forth that long-drawn
whistle of surprise from Enoch. All he could see were a few oyster and
pleasure boats, and a neat little steamer, which was coming up with a
heavy bone in her teeth.
“That is a police-boat,” explained Enoch, noticing the inquiring look on
Lester’s face. “They run around night and day searching for illegal
duck-shooters and oyster-dredgers. What is the matter now, Jones?” he
added, as his companion uttered another exclamation of surprise.
Jones did not reply until he had snatched the glass from Lester’s hand
and taken a long look at the boys on shore; then he said slowly:
“Egan is signaling to the police-boat to come in and get the gun, as
sure as I’m a foot high.”
“No!” cried Enoch, who thought the news too good to be true. He wanted
Egan and his friends to do all the mischief they could, so that he would
have an exasperating report to make to Barr when he went back to the
sink-boat.
“But I say he is,” insisted Jones. “I can see him waving his hat. There!
do you believe it now?” he continued, as the steamer gave one short,
quick toot on her whistle to show that Egan’s signal was seen and
understood.
Yes, Enoch believed it now; especially, when he saw the police-boat turn
her bow toward the cove. She ran as close to the shore as the depth of
the water would permit, then rang her stopping bell, and presently Jones
announced that the crew were putting one of the small boats into the
water.
“I tell you Barr has seen that big gun for the last time,” repeated
Enoch. “He may be able to bribe a private detective; but the State
authorities, as a general thing, don’t do business that way. Won’t Barr
be hopping when he finds it out? We can’t do any thing to save the gun,
and neither can he; so we might as well run down there and look on.”
The Firefly came about and bore down toward the cove, running in between
the steamer and the shore so that her crew could make a note of every
thing that was done by the police, and perhaps overhear some of the
conversation that took place between them and the young wild fowlers;
but in this last hope they were disappointed. More than that, they had
the satisfaction of discovering that they were suspected of something
themselves. For, when one of the officers who went off in the small boat
began talking in rather a loud voice, Egan said a word or two to him in
a low tone; whereupon the officers faced about, and stared so fixedly at
the schooner’s crew, that the latter began to feel uneasy. But they saw
the big gun put into the boat, and then the Firefly filled away and
stood up the bay again.
“Great Scott!” exclaimed Lester, when they were fairly under way; “I
never saw a gun like that before. How long is it, and how much do you
suppose it weighs?”
“It is ten feet long, and weighs a hundred and sixty pounds,” snarled
Enoch, who was fully as angry as he expected Barr to be when he heard
the report they had to make. “Say, Jones, did you notice how quickly
those officers stopped talking, and how hard they looked at us when Egan
spoke to them?”
“I did,” was the reply; “and it struck me at once that he was telling
them something that he would not dare say to our faces.”
“That was, and still is, my opinion,” continued Enoch. “Now, the only
way we can get even with him for that is to make out as bad a case
against him as we can when we report to Barr.”
“Why can’t you take his punishment into your own hands?” inquired
Lester. “You can do as much damage as you please, and unless you are
surprised and caught in the act, it will all be laid to Barr’s account.”
“I say,” exclaimed Enoch, gazing admiringly at Lester, “your head is
level yet, isn’t it? That is a proposition worth thinking and talking
about at some future time. Now, then, here we are.”
The Firefly was by this time almost within hailing distance of the
sink-boat. She had two occupants now, for the “partner” of whom Barr had
spoken, and who had been hailed by Enoch and sent up to the sink-boat,
had pushed his canoe through the decoys, and was talking earnestly with
his companion in guilt, while waiting for the captain of the schooner to
come back and make his report.
“Now, then,” exclaimed Barr, as soon as he could make himself heard, “is
your news good or bad?”
“Bad enough,” was Enoch’s reply. “The Magpie sent a boat ashore and
gobbled up that big gun of yours.”
The “partner” looked incredulous, but Barr saw no reason to doubt the
truth of the report. He jumped to his feet with so sudden and strong an
impulse that he came within a hair’s breadth of losing his balance and
going headlong out of the sink-boat; and when he had recovered his
perpendicular, he found relief for his feelings in a volley of the
heaviest kind of oaths. If swearwords could have sunk the Magpie (that
was the name of the police-boat), the officers who captured his big gun
never would have seen Baltimore again.
“You needn’t bear down so heavy on the police,” said Enoch, as soon as
he saw a chance to crowd a word in edgewise, “for they would not have
known that the big gun was there, if it had not been for that meddlesome
fellow who took it upon himself to play the spy upon your actions last
season.”
“You mean Gus Egan?” said Barr, inquiringly.
“He is the very chap,” replied Enoch. “We found him and his party, which
is made up of boys as mean as he is, in the cove, trying to toll in a
flock of ducks with old Eph’s dog; but that was only a blind. When we
came up and frightened the ducks away, they went down the beach and
found the gun as easy as falling off a log. Just then the police-boat
came up and they signaled to her, and she went in and brought away the
gun.”
Upon hearing this, Barr went off into another paroxysm of rage,
flourishing his fists in the air and dancing about in the sink-boat,
while the “partner” clung to the sides to keep from being thrown out by
his companion’s wild antics, and swore softly to himself.
“We ran alongside the police-boat, thinking that we might hear something
that would be of use to us, but Egan put the officers on their guard,
talking to them in a tone so low that we could not hear what he said,”
chimed in Jones. “We owe him one for that.”
“I am afraid you will never get any more ducks with that gun,” said
Enoch, consolingly.
“I know I never shall,” growled Barr, who, having worked off a little of
his rage, was now seated quietly on the bottom of the sink-boat. “Let’s
pick up the decoys, Pete. I don’t feel like doing any more shooting
to-day.”
“I shouldn’t think he would,” said Enoch, in a low tone. “If I were in
his place I should feel much more like hunting up that Gus Egan and
giving him a good thrashing.” Then raising his voice, he continued: “You
won’t forget your promise, will you, Mr. Barr? You will let us know when
you are ready to make another night excursion, won’t you?”
But Barr was too angry, or too busy with his decoys to reply. Enoch did
not dare press the matter just then, for fear of defeating the object he
had in view; and as he could not think of anything that he cared to add
to his report, he bade the big-gunners good-by, and filed away for home.
On the way the Firefly passed Mr. Egan’s house, and Jones pointed out to
Lester the berth the Sallie always occupied when she was not in use.
Lester saw at a glance that it was a lonely and retired spot, and so far
from the dwelling that a tramp or anybody else who wanted to go down the
bay, and who thought it easier to ride than to walk, could steal Egan’s
yacht, or his father’s oyster-boat, with little fear of detection.
“Well, then, suppose we try it to-night,” said Enoch, when Lester had
given utterance to the thoughts that were passing through his mind.
“Suppose we steal the cutter?”
“What shall we do with her after we get her?” inquired Jones.
“We’ll not do anything with her,” answered Enoch, glancing up at the
sky. “We will let the elements take care of her. There is wind in those
clouds, and plenty of it, too. It will be the easiest thing in the world
to come down here in a small boat after dark and slip the chain, and
I’ll bet there won’t be much left of the Sallie by the time morning
comes.”
Jones was prompt to say that he would gladly lend a hand, but Lester,
although he had often talked very glibly about doing something of this
kind, in order to be revenged upon Egan for ignoring him and paying so
much attention to Don and Bert Gordon, did not seem to be very
enthusiastic. He felt a good deal as he did on the night he and the rest
of the deserters from the academy ran away in the Sylph. It was easy
enough to sit down and talk about such things, but when the time for
action arrived, Lester was the first one to stand back and let somebody
else do the work and take all the chances of detection and punishment.
“What do you say, Brigham?” demanded Enoch, after a little pause. “Are
you in for it?”
“O, yes; of course; certainly,” answered Lester, with great apparent
earnestness. “You can count on me every time. Didn’t I help you rescue
those people from the Mystery at the time she was wrecked? Well, I will
help you turn Egan’s cutter adrift this very night. I would like much to
see his face, and hear what he will have to say when he comes out in the
morning and finds his boat gone.”
“But you would not like to be within reach of his arm, if he thought you
had anything to do with helping that boat to get adrift, would you?”
asked Jones. “I know I wouldn’t, for a fellow who can knock down three
or four men and boys, as Egan did during that fight with the rioters at
Hamilton Creek bridge, is a good fellow to keep out of the way of.”
Enoch and Lester had no reply to make to these words of praise, bestowed
upon the boy they so cordially hated; but they told themselves, as they
had often done before, that they would give almost anything they
possessed if they had showed a little more pluck during those troublous
times.
The Firefly ran on to her moorings, and her captain proceeded to make
everything snug in anticipation of the storm he had predicted. They went
ashore in the canoe which they had left tied to the anchor buoy when
they started out in the morning, and sat down to their late breakfast
with appetites that enabled them to do full justice to it. They passed a
few hours in roaming about the fields with their guns in their hands,
popping away at everything in the shape of a bird that showed itself,
and when the wind came up, driving before it blinding sheets of rain and
sleet, they retreated to Enoch’s room, where they passed the time in
reading and talking and watching the angry white-caps on the bay.
Although the force of the gale decreased when the sun went down, the
white-caps still rolled wildly; but that did not in the least dampen the
ardor of Enoch and his friend Jones, who were fully resolved that Gus
Egan and his guests should not see any more pleasure in cruising about
in the Sallie, if it were in their power to prevent it. They could
scarcely restrain their impatience, so slowly did the hours drag
themselves along; but darkness came at last, and Enoch gave the signal
for action by picking up his hat and starting for the door.
“We could not have chosen a better night for the work,” said he, holding
fast to his hat, which the wind seemed determined to tear from his head,
in spite of all his efforts to keep it on. “Just let this breeze get a
good grip on the Sallie, and she is a gone cutter. Gus thought he was
seeing lots of fun to-day while he was helping those officers steal
Barr’s gun, and now he will learn, by experience, how the loss of
property affects a fellow.”
“But there is this difference,” added Jones, turning his back to the
wind so that he could catch his breath. “Barr was in a measure dependent
upon that big gun for his living, while Egan is dependent upon his yacht
for nothing but his pleasure-rides. He is able to buy another boat if he
loses this one, but poor Barr can’t replace that gun.”
“I am glad he’s got another that the officers know nothing about,”
replied Enoch, as he unlocked the boat-house, and hung the lighted
lantern he had brought with him upon a convenient hook. “Now catch hold,
all of us, and shove her in.”
Lester Brigham, whose experience on the day he so rashly volunteered to
assist in rescuing the crew of the Mystery, had made him very much
afraid of rough water, was greatly relieved to find that the craft, in
which Enoch purposed braving the white-caps, was not a canoe, but a
staunch row-boat, with plenty of sheer, and roomy enough to hold ten or
a dozen men. Being mounted on rollers she was easily managed, in spite
of her size and weight. Lester assisted in putting her in the water, and
in five minutes more she was being rowed rapidly toward the Sallie’s
anchorage.
As they passed Mr. Egan’s residence Enoch took note of the fact that
there was a bright light in the ex-sergeant’s room. He and his guests
were doubtless having a “high old time” in there, and Enoch told himself
that Gus had deliberately insulted him by not asking him and _his_
guests over to help them enjoy it.
“Every body likes that boy—every body except Barr and his crowd of
loafers and ruffians—and no one seems to care a cent for me,” thought
Enoch, with no little bitterness in his heart. “I don’t believe that
even those low-down fellows, the big-gunners, would countenance me, if
it were not for the fact that I have showed that I can be of use to
them. They are a pretty gang for a gentleman like myself to associate
with, I must say! Well, the fault lies at Egan’s door, and he is going
to suffer for it this very night.”
Guided by Enoch, who pulled the bow-oar, and acted as look-out and
coxswain at the same time, the row-boat dashed past Mr. Egan’s
oyster-sloop, and drew up alongside the Sallie. There were no signs of
life on board either of the little vessels. Jones fastened into the
fore-chains as soon as he could reach them with his boat-hook, and
Enoch, after carefully laying down his oar, placed his hands on the
rail, and sprang lightly to the yacht’s deck. Groping his way to the
windlass he found, to his gratification, that Egan had been
accommodating enough to leave the anchor-chain in such shape that it
could be slipped in an instant. Seizing the rope with both hands he was
about to lay out all his strength upon it in one vigorous jerk, which
would have released the chain, and allowed it to run overboard through
the hawse-hole, thus giving the yawl up to the mercy of the elements,
when suddenly there was a glare of light and a deafening report on the
deck of the oyster-boat, not more than a dozen yards away, and a bullet
whistled through the air in close proximity to the boy’s head. This was
followed by a chorus of barks and growls that made Enoch’s blood run
cold, and a voice he had often heard before shouted at him through the
darkness:
“You-uns mighty smart ober da’—you is so; but ole Sam wide awake, an’ he
done seed ye when ye go pas’. Look out da’; Ise gettin’ ready to shoot
agin, an’ the nex’ bullet come closter, _I_ tell ye.”
Enoch waited to hear no more. He made a headlong rush for the side, and
tumbled into his boat, which was at once pushed off into the darkness by
its frightened crew. The Sallie was not destined to be given up to the
tender mercies of the elements _that_ night.