A GANG OF "RIVER-TRADERS."
For a whole minute Winn sat silent, while from the opposite side of the
table Mr. Gilder regarded his perplexed countenance with an expression
that was not altogether pleasant. Winn, suddenly looking up from his
hard thinking, was a bit startled by it; but as it instantly melted
into one of smiling sympathy, his confidence in the man remained
unbroken. Had he seen Mr. Gilder two hours earlier, instead of one,
his opinion of the individual who had just prepared such a capital
breakfast, expressed so great friendliness, and now showed him so
plainly the unpleasant predicament into which he had fallen, would have
been decidedly different.
At that time Mr. Gilder was kneeling beside an opening in the floor of
a log-hut, in the centre of the island, and lifting from it a tray of
odd-looking but beautifully made tools. The hut was small and rudely
constructed. It was surrounded by a dense forest growth, and stood in
a tiny clearing from which no road or trail could be seen to lead. All
its appointments were of the most primitive description, and yet a
single glance into its interior would have impressed one with the
belief that its occupants were millionaires. The effect of piles and
stacks of greenbacks, enough to form the capital of a city bank or fill
the vaults of a sub-treasury, amid such surroundings, would certainly
have startled even those accustomed to the handling of great wealth.
The bills, all of which were new and crisp, were done up in neat
packages, each of which was marked with the number of hundreds or
thousands of dollars it contained. In one corner of the room stood a
small printing-press of exquisite make. Besides this press, a
work-bench, table, and several rude stools, the single room of the hut
contained only the piles of greenbacks.
A man sat beside the table counting and sorting a large number of
bills, the worn appearance of which showed them to have been in active
circulation for some time. This man was small, and had a weazened face
devoid of hair except for a pair of bushy, iron-gray eyebrows, beneath
which his eyes gleamed as cunningly bright as those of a fox. He
answered to the name of Grimshaw; and as he counted bills with the
deftness and rapidity of a bank cashier, he also paid a certain amount
of attention to the remarks of his companion, who was talking earnestly.
"I tell you what it is, Grim," the other was saying, as he bent over
the secret opening in the floor, "it's high time we were moving. This
is a first-class location, and we've done well here; but you know as
well as I do that our business requires a pretty frequent change of
scene, and I'm afraid we've stayed here too long already. One of those
mill fellows said only yesterday that we must have collected a powerful
lot of stuff by this time, and asked if we weren't about ready to
invite him up to inspect and bid on it. I told him we were thinking of
putting it into a raft and taking it down-river. Never had such an
idea, you know, but the notion just popped into my head, and I'm not
sure now but what it's as good a one as we'll strike. What do you
think?"
"It'll take a heap of hard work, and more time than I for one want to
spare, to build a raft large enough for our purpose," answered
Grimshaw. "Still, I don't know as the idea is wholly bad."
"It would take time, that's a fact," answered Mr. Gilder, lifting his
tray of tools to the table and proceeding to polish some of them with a
bit of buckskin. "And it looks as though time was going to be an
object with us shortly. That last letter from Wiley showed that the
Chicago folks were beginning to sniff pretty suspiciously in this
direction. I've been asked some awkward questions lately, too. Yes,
the more I think of it, the more I am convinced that we ought to be
getting out of here as quickly as we can make arrangements. We must
talk it over with Plater, and come to some decision this very day.
He's-- Hello! Something's up. Plater was to stay in camp till I got
back."
Again came the peculiar, long-drawn whistle that had arrested the
attention of the men, and which denoted the approach of a friend. Mr.
Gilder stepped to the door and answered it. Then he looked expectantly
towards a laurel thicket that formed part of the dense undergrowth
surrounding the hut. In a moment the dripping branches were parted
near the ground, and a man, emerging from the bushes on his hands and
knees, stood up, shook himself like a Newfoundland dog, and advanced
towards the open door. He was a large man with long hair and a bushy
beard. He was clad in flannel, jeans, and cowhide boots, and was
evidently of a different class from Mr. Gilder, who appeared to be a
gentleman, and was dressed as one. "What's up, Plater?" asked the
latter.
"Big raft, three shanties on it, in false channel, saddle-bagged on the
reef pretty nigh abreast of camp. Can't see nobody aboard. Reckon she
broke adrift from somewheres while her crew was off on a frolic."
"You don't say so!" cried Mr. Gilder, excitedly. "Perhaps it's the
very thing we are most in need of, sent by a special providence to
crown our labors with success. I'll go down and have a look at her,
while you stay here and help Grim pack up the stuff. We might as well
be prepared for a sudden move, and he'll tell you what we have just
been talking about."
So Mr. Gilder, donning his rubber coat, a garment that Plater would
have scorned to wear, left the clearing through another bushy thicket
on the opposite side from that by which his confederate had entered it.
An almost undiscernible path led him to the shore of the island that
was washed by the main channel of the river. Here he struck into a
plainly marked trail that followed the water's edge. In this trail Mr.
Gilder walked to the southern end of the island, and up its other side
until he reached a comfortable camp that bore signs of long occupancy.
It stood high on a cut bank, and just below it a rude boom held a
miscellaneous assortment of logs, lumber, and odd wreckage, all of it
evidently collected from the stray drift of the great river.
From the edge of the bank, a short distance from this camp, the man
commanded a good view of the stranded raft, and for several minutes he
stood gazing at it. "There's the very thing to a T, that we want," he
said to himself. "Not too big for us to handle, and yet large enough
to make it seem an object for us to take it down the river. I can't
see what they want of three shanties, though; one ought to be enough
for all the crew she needs. Our first move would be to tear down two
of them, and lengthen the other; that alone would be a sufficient
disguise. We haven't got her yet, though, and she isn't abandoned
either, for there's smoke coming from that middle shanty. I reckon the
cook must be aboard, and maybe he'll sell the whole outfit for cash,
and so give us a clear title to it." Here Mr. Gilder smiled as though
the thought was most amusing. "I'll go off and interview him anyway,
and I'd better be about it too, for the river is still rising. She
won't hang there much longer, and if the fellow found his raft afloat
again before a bargain was made he might not come to terms. In that
case we should be obliged to take forcible possession, which would be
risky. I'm bound to have that raft, though. It is simply a case of
necessity, and necessity is in the same fix we are, so far as law is
concerned."
While thus thinking, Mr. Gilder had stepped into a light skiff that was
moored near the boom, and was pulling towards the stranded raft. He
first examined its position, and assured himself that very little labor
would be necessary to float it; then he stepped aboard, and very nearly
lost his customary self-possession upon the receipt of Winn's warm
greeting. He was on the point of returning it in a manner that would
have proved most unpleasant for poor Winn, when he discovered that his
supposed assailant was only a boy, and that the act was unintentional.
It took the shrewd man but a few minutes to discover the exact state of
affairs aboard the raft, and to form a plan for gaining peaceful, if
not altogether lawful, possession of it. This plan he began to carry
out by the false statement of the situation made to Winn at the
conclusion of the last chapter. This beginning was not made, however,
until he had first gained the lad's confidence by a deed of kindness.
When Winn looked up from his hard thinking he said, "I hate the thought
of throwing the wheat overboard, even to save the raft. There are two
thousand bushels of it, and I know my father expects to get at least
fifty cents a bushel. So it would seem like throwing a thousand
dollars into the river. Then, again, I don't see how it will be
possible to land it, and so lighten the raft. It would take me a month
to do it alone with my canoe. Besides, father is sure to set out on a
hunt for the raft the moment he finds it is gone, and so is likely to
come along most any time."
"All the greater need for haste," thought Mr. Gilder; but aloud he
said, "That is very true, but in the mean time your raft will probably
break up, and your wheat be spilled in the river anyway. Now suppose
you agree to pay me and my partners a hundred dollars to get the wheat
ashore for you and reload it after the raft floats."
"I haven't a cent of money with me," replied Winn.
"That's bad," said the other, reflectively. "It's awkward to travel
without money. But I'll tell you what we'll do. I hate to see a
decent young fellow like you in such a fix, and I'm willing to take a
risk to help him out of it. Suppose I buy your wheat? I told you that
I and my partners were river traders. To be sure, our business is
mostly in logs, lumber, and the like; but I don't mind taking an
occasional flyer in wheat, provided they are willing. You say your
father expects to get fifty cents a bushel for this wheat. Now I'll
give you forty-five cents a bushel for it; that is, if my partners
agree. That will leave five cents a bushel to pay us for landing it,
transferring it to some other craft, and getting your raft afloat.
What do you say?"
"I wish I could ask father about it," hesitated Winn, to whom, under
the circumstances as he supposed them to exist, the offer seemed very
tempting.
"Oh, well," sneered Mr. Gilder, "if you are not man enough now to act
upon your own responsibility in such an emergency, you never will be.
So the sooner you get home again and tie up to your mother's
apron-string the sooner you'll be where you belong."
The taunt was as well worn as it was cruel, and should have given Winn
an insight into the true character of his new acquaintance; but on a
boy so proud of his ability to decide for himself, and so ignorant of
the ways of the world as this one, it was sufficient to produce the
desired effect.
Winn flushed hotly as he answered: "The wheat is my father's, and not
mine to sell; but for the sake of saving it as well as the raft, I will
let you have it at that price. I must have the cash, though, before
you begin to move it."
"Spoken like the man I took you to be," said Mr. Gilder, heartily.
"Now we'll go ashore and see my partners. If they agree to the
bargain, as no doubt they will, we'll get to work at once, and have
your raft afloat again in no time."