IN DESPERATE STRAITS
Tad's assailant hastily gathered the boy up. The man staggered slightly,
as, after a hurried glance up and down the deck, he stepped toward the
rail with his burden. Just then footsteps were heard.
"Hey! What are you doing there?" bellowed a voice. A man came running
from somewhere in the after part of the ship. Butler's assailant dropped
his burden, dodged into a passageway in the deck-house, closing the door
behind him and disappearing before the newcomer reached the door and
threw it open. Then the rescuer turned to the unconscious Tad Butler.
"Well, here's trouble!" he muttered. Taking up Tad's limp form he
carried it to where the light from the grating shone up. "It's that
freckle-faced kid. Somebody gave him a tough wallop," growled the man.
Tad's rescuer was Sam Dawson, one of the Gold Diggers. "I reckon I'll
fetch him around if his neck isn't broken."
Laying the lad down on the deck where he would have plenty of air, the
Digger worked over the Pony Rider Boy for fully five minutes before Tad
returned to consciousness. Butler was too dazed to realize what had
occurred.
"I'll take you below now, my lad," said Dawson.
"No, no. Not yet," protested Tad. "Wait. I want to think."
"Who was the fellow who hit you?" demanded Dawson.
"I--I don't know," stammered Tad.
"What did he do it for?"
"I--I don't know. I--"
"You aren't very strong on information, are you?" grinned the
prospector.
"I want--want to see Mr. Darwood."
"You can see him to-morrow. You'd better get into your bunk right smart.
I'll help you down."
"Thank you. I'll go alone--in a minute," said Butler, pulling himself up
by the rail to which he clung unsteadily. "I don't want anyone to know.
I'll tell Mr. Darwood what I have to say."
"Have it your own way. I'm going to follow along behind, to see that you
get down all right," answered the man.
"Thank you. I guess you saved me from getting a wetting," said the boy,
extending an impulsive hand. "Now I'll go to my cabin. Please don't say
anything about this. Good-night."
Tad's progress below was slow and unsteady. Dawson watched him until the
door of the cabin had closed behind the Pony Rider Boy.
"That's a raw deal," muttered the miner. "I'd like to punch the head of
the fellow who would do that to a kid!"
Butler got into his bunk without awakening his companions. His head
ached terribly, and it was a long time before he fell asleep. The next
morning his head felt twice its ordinary size. The boys joked him on his
appearance, but Tad merely smiled, refusing to say what had been the
matter with him. Ned was suspicious. He knew that Butler had been
engaged in a scuffle, but what it was he was unable to imagine. Tad had
been strolling about the decks all the morning, as if in search of
someone. He found the man he was seeking late in the forenoon. The man
was sitting on a keg of nails on the after part of the upper deck, his
back to Tad.
"Good morning, Mr. Ketcham," greeted the Pony Rider Boy.
The red-whiskered man whirled, letting the hand that had been caressing
his beard fall limply to his side.
"Beard hurt you?" questioned Tad sweetly.
"None of yer business!" was the surly reply.
"Mr. Ketcham, I know you and I know your game," began Butler in a low,
even tone. "I know, too, that you are the man who assaulted me and tried
to put me overboard."
"I don't know what ye're talking about," growled Sandy.
"Oh, yes you do--and so do I! I've a handful of whiskers which match
perfectly those you are wearing. Shall I pull some more for comparison
with those I already have?" questioned the boy aggravatingly.
Ketcham half rose, then settled back again, as if fearing to trust
himself.
"You may be thankful that you didn't do it. My companions would have
taken care of you, had anything happened to me," Tad went on composedly.
"I want to say, now, that it would be good judgment on your part not to
try any more strong-arm tactics on me or on my companions. If you do,
you will instantly find yourself in more kinds of trouble than you have
ever before experienced. Now that we know you, we shall be able to take
care of you as you deserve. I reckon you know what that means, Red
Whiskers."
"Get out of here, before I do something to you!" roared Sandy.
"Oh, no you won't! You don't dare raise your hand. I could turn you over
to the Captain and have you placed in irons till we get ashore. I have
proof enough to send you to a jail, if they have such places up here.
But I'm not going to do that. I am going to be fair with you and tell
you exactly what I propose. I am going to tell Curtis Darwood about you.
No, I shan't tell him who it is. I will tell him that someone is
following and watching him--you and Ainsworth. He will find you out,
never fear. I will give you one chance. Get off at the next stop, and I
will tell him after we leave there. Take your choice. Take your friend
with you. I don't want to be responsible for any shooting on this boat.
What do you say, Mr. Sandy?"
The fellow's fingers opened and closed nervously. He attempted to speak
but failed three times. Finally he blurted out his answer:
"Will you git out of here? I'll lose myself in a minit; then I won't
answer for what I do."
"Never mind," answered Tad laughingly. "I can take care of myself.
_Your_ kind never did scare me worth a cent."
Sandy sprang up. He hesitated for a few tense seconds, then strode
forward with Butler's soft chuckle in his ears.
The two men did get off when the boat stopped late that afternoon. Tad
was at the rail watching them. Sam Dawson was also an observer of the
scene. He saw the threatening scowl that Ketcham gave the smiling Tad,
and drew his own conclusions, and at the same time decided that the
freckle-faced boy was pretty well able to hold his own. Dawson really
suspected part of the reason for this hasty disembarking, though he
thought it was because Tad had threatened to expose the man Ketcham.
It was after supper when Tad called Ned Rector aside.
"I promised to tell you, Ned. Come with me and listen to what I am going
to tell Mr. Darwood."
Ned went willingly. Darwood was sitting on deck. Tad halted before him,
Darwood glancing up at the boys with languid interest.
"May I speak with you?" asked the lad politely.
"I reckon there's nothing to prevent," was the careless answer.
Tad went direct to the point of his story.
"A night or so ago I chanced to overhear two men who were passengers on
this boat talking of you and the gentlemen who were with you. They were
planning to follow and watch you. They thought you had discovered the
claim for which you have been looking for so long."
Darwood shot an angry glance at the boy.
"Go on," he growled.
"From their conversation I inferred that perhaps you already had
discovered this claim and were on your way with equipment to work it. I
further understood that they were to be met by others on shore and that
the party was then to divide up and cover the movements of yourself and
your friends. One of these fellows, I think, overheard me telling part
of this story to my friend, Ned, last night, and the man tried to throw
me overboard, after nearly squeezing me to death and then punching my
head. I merely wanted to warn you to be on the lookout, and at the same
time to tell you that neither of the two men is on board now. You may
draw your own conclusions, sir."
Ned Rector's face had flushed when Tad described the assault on himself.
"Is that all?" asked Darwood indifferently.
"Yes; I think so."
"Thank you," said the Gold Digger, getting up slowly and strolling
forward.
Ned laughed; Tad flushed.
"That's what you get for meddling with other folks' business," declared
Rector.
"I reckon you are right at that," answered Tad. Then he laughed
heartily. Nor did he exchange another word with the Gold Diggers of Taku
Pass during the rest of that journey on the "Corsair."