THE BRILLIANT STRATEGY OF THE BRUISER.
That cunning Tom Topover was actually behaving himself in something like
a civilized manner, in his desire not to alarm his victim. Just now he
was engaged in a strategetic enterprise, and found it necessary to
display only the fur side of his nature, though even that was very like
the bristles of a pig. He did his best, which was not saying much, to
keep on the right side of his intended victim. But Paul was a
good-natured fellow, and it was an easy matter to conciliate him.
The son of toil rowed down the river, and crossing the shoal water of
Field's Bay, took a straight course for his destination. Tom sat at the
stern, and did not seem to be as much inclined to talk as he had been
immediately after the wreck of the queer craft. In fact, he was turning
over in his mind sundry cunning propositions, to accomplish the purpose
for which he had embarked in the present venture.
It was a good six-mile pull to Westport, but Paul was used to the
Dragon, and she went ahead without much effort on his part. The lake was
as smooth as glass, and the rower wondered that it could ever be as
rough as it had been the day the Silver Moon was so nearly wrecked.
Though he was as tough as an oak knot, and had not yet become tired, he
thought it was about time for the stranger in the stern to begin to do
his share of the pulling, for the boat was now about half way to
Westport. Sandy Point was half a mile ahead, and Paul mentioned the fact
as a hint that his companion had better take the oars.
"They say you used to live there, Bristol Brick," said Tom in reply, and
without taking the hint, which was altogether too indefinite for one
with a skin so thick and dirty as the bruiser had.
"I lived there two years," replied Paul indifferently.
"Sho'! You don't say so!" exclaimed Tom, albeit there was nothing very
astonishing in the statement. "They say the Beech Hill fellers kerried
the house you lived in over to Hornet P'int one night, and left
everything jest as though there never hadn't been no house there."
"That's all very true. Major Billcord warned my mother to move the
cottage within twenty-four hours, and told her he should pitch it into
the lake if she didn't do it," added Paul; and the stranger seemed to be
the only person in Addison County who didn't know all the particulars of
the affair.
"I guess the major was a little struck up when he found it had scooted,"
said Tom, with a cheerful grin, as he looked ahead at the point where he
had suggested a meeting of the oarsman with Walk Billcord on the evening
of that day.
"He was very much astonished, and so were the students of the institute,
to whom he had promised a pile of fun in tipping the cottage and all
that it contained into the lake."
"I don't see how the Beech Hill fellers could move the house. I don't
believe they did it," added Tom, shaking his head.
Paul explained how the job had been done, and assured his companion he
had seen the whole work himself. Tom insisted on being incredulous, for
just then he believed he was particularly cunning.
"I never went ashore at Sandy Point, Bristol Brick, and I should like to
see how the land lays there," suggested Tom, with one of his cheerful
grins, exaggerated for the occasion.
"You can see the whole of the shore from here," replied Paul, turning
around and pointing out the locality of the cottage.
"But I want to see the place, and 't won't take two minutes for me to
run up to where the house was," Tom insisted. "Then I will row the rest
of the way over to Westport, and nobody won't git hurt none."
Paul had started more than an hour earlier than he had intended, and
would reach his destination before Lily had finished her day's work.
Besides, he had a kind of affection for the place where he had lived two
years. Just then it flashed upon his mind that he had never visited the
hollow tree which had done duty as a safe for the two dollars and the
gold rings belonging to his mother.
In the excitement of his last visit to the point at the invitation of
the magnate, he had forgotten all about the treasure. His mother had
spoken of it often, but Paul had no doubt it was safe in its
hiding-place, for the money and rings had been put at a tin box.
His mother had spoken of it, and so had he, at the time of it, but
latterly it seemed to have passed out of the memory of all the family.
Paul pulled to the shore as soon as the treasure came into his mind,
and he wondered that he had not thought of it before. His mother had
plenty of money now, and that seemed to be the reason it had been
forgotten.
When Paul swung the boat around, and headed it for the point, he took a
look down the lake. Over in the direction of Button Bay he saw a steam
yacht. There were several such craft on the lake, though all or nearly
all of them were kept farther down. The yacht looked exactly like the
Sylph, and he had no doubt it was she.
"I wonder what the Sylph is doing over there," said he, continuing to
pull for the beach before him. "She went down to Port Henry towing the
gundalow with a cargo of stone."
"I guess the fellers are taking a little turn in her while the men are
unloadin' the stone," suggested Tom, who was not at all pleased to find
the Beech Hill steamer in this part of the lake.
"She is headed this way, and perhaps she is going back to Beech Hill
after something that was forgotten," added Paul, as the Dragon struck
the sand on the beach.
Paul took the painter in his hand and stepped ashore. He paused a moment
to take another look at the Sylph. She was coming up from Button Bay on
the east shore of the lake, and this course would carry her within a
mile of Sandy Point. It was now four o'clock in the afternoon, and the
steamer, with her heavy tow, must have reached Port Henry by eleven at
the latest. If anything had been forgotten, they must have found it out
earlier in the day.
While he was looking at the steam yacht and wondering what she was doing
in this part of the lake without her tow, she suddenly changed her
course and stood over in the direction of Westport. This settled it that
nothing had been forgotten, for she was not going back to Beech Hill.
She was sailing very fast, and seemed to be shaken by the effort of her
engine. They were certainly driving her at a very unusual speed.
Tom Topover was walking about the point, apparently engaged in a very
minute inspection of the locality. Paul saw him looking at the former
site of the cottage, and then he disappeared in the woods. The owner of
the Dragon drew his boat a little farther up on the beach, but he
continued to watch the movements of the steamer; and he was so absorbed
in the effort to fathom her strange behavior that he was in danger of
again forgetting the treasure in the tin box.
From his position on the point Paul could see the steamboat wharf at
Westport, or, rather, he could see where it was, for it was over two
miles distant. But the steam yacht did not go to it; and for a short
time she disappeared from his view behind the trees on the lower arm of
the point. But he knew she must come in sight again soon, for there was
no landing-place above the wharf, and the water was shoal.
In a few minutes she did reappear, and now she was close inshore,
following the southern trend of the bay. She had reduced her speed
somewhat, but she was still sailing faster than her standard rate. Paul
watched her till she reached Barber's Point, behind which she again went
out of sight. He could make nothing of her erratic movements, and he was
forced to the conclusion that Tom was right, and that the fellows were
taking a little turn in her while waiting for the cargo of the gundalow
to be discharged, or for the iron shoe for the keel of the Lily.
By this time Tom Topover appeared to have completed his survey of the
locality of the cottage, and joined Paul on the beach. The cunning
fellow seemed to be somewhat uneasy and excited, though his companion
was too much absorbed in the wonder of the steam yacht to notice it.
"Be you about ready to start on?" asked Tom, after he had looked about
him for a few minutes. "I guess I've seen the whole thing now."
"I can't make out what the Sylph is doing," said Paul, still perplexed
by the problem, though there wasn't the least reason why he should
bother his head at all about her strange movements; but, like the
average boy of intelligence, he desired to know what everything meant.
"She's only cruising about for the fun on't," grinned Tom. "I guess I
don't want to stop no longer."
That cunning reprobate had arranged his plan of operations. In the
darkness of the woods he had examined the tarred spun-yarn which filled
one of his trousers pockets. He had taken it from a new building on the
back road, where it had been used to secure bundles of laths. He had
coiled up the single lengths in such a way that they would be ready for
use when wanted. With these he intended to bind his victim hand and
foot, and then tie him to a sapling, which he had selected for the
purpose, in the woods back of the cottage site, where the prisoner could
not be seen or heard from the lake.
He had promised to row the Dragon from Sandy Point to Westport; and it
was with a purpose that he had proposed to do so. Paul was to sit in the
stern, and would have to get into the boat first. Tom would be close
behind him, and when he took the first step, he would seize him by the
throat, throw him down on the beach, and lie down on him. With the
spun-yarn in his pocket he could easily secure his hands behind him. He
had picked up a stout stick in the woods, which he dropped carelessly on
the shore, where it would be available in case of need.
Tom had no doubt whatever of his ability to carry out this
nicely-arranged programme. Paul was a stout fellow, and events at the
point and elsewhere proved that he had plenty of pluck, and that he hit
hard. But if he took him behind, what could Paul do? What could any
fellow do, under such unfavorable circumstances? The blunder of the six
ruffians, in Tom's estimation, was in attacking him in front instead of
in the rear.
The cunning bruiser was ready to execute the plan his busy brain had
contrived, and he was a little nervous and uneasy, as before noted. He
did not take the least interest in the movements of the steamer, though
he was rather pleased to find Paul so much absorbed in anything that
kept his mind occupied.
"You git in fust, as I'm go'n to row the rest of the way," said Tom, as
he took the oars from the boat, the blades of which were projecting over
the bow.
"I am not quite ready to go yet; I have to go over after something I
left in the hollow of a tree," replied Paul, as he turned away from the
boat.
"In the holler of a tree!" exclaimed Tom.
"That's what I said," added Paul. "It is a tin box containing a little
money and a couple of gold rings. It won't take me long to get them."
"How fur off is it?" asked the bruiser, much interested when he heard
there was money in the box, for he was sure to get it.
Paul said it was up in the hollow, and started off.