Mike Murphy was never more astounded in his life.
“He oughter said good-bye before he took that dive,” exclaimed the
youth, who was not the one to stand idle when a companion, even one whom
he did not specially fancy, was in danger. Mike’s chivalry was roused,
and with no thought of the consequences to himself, he ran to the help
of the other lad. His shillaleh was firmly grasped in his left hand, and
held ready for instant use, for nothing seemed more probable than that
the weapon would be quickly needed.
Mike was sure that if he imitated Hoke, he would be seized in the same
way. He therefore hurried lightly to the opposite side of the pile,
where as silently as he could, he thrust the toe of his shoe into the
crevice between the lower logs, gave a spring, caught hold of the upper
tier, and drew himself upward.
Buzby Biggs, one of the tramps whom we have met, was sitting on the
ground inside the crude cabin and punching his stubby forefinger into
the bowl of his corncob pipe, with a view of tamping the tobacco and
making it ready to light, when the sound of voices outside caused him to
suspend operations. He rose to his feet, intending to peep through a
small opening of which he knew when he heard the scratching made by
Hoke’s shoes as he climbed the low wall. Angered by the intrusion upon
his privacy, he waited until the head of the lad rose to view, when he
proceeded to act as has been described.
Hoke was too startled to make any outcry or resistance. The violence of
his debut caused him to sprawl forward on his hands and knees and his
hat fell off. He instinctively picked it up and replaced it on his head.
“What do yer mean by butting into a gentleman’s private residence
without ringing the bell or sending in your card?” demanded Biggs, who
finding himself confronted by only one lad, could feel no misgiving as
to his own safety.
“Gee! I didn’t know _you_ were here,” replied Hoke, alarmed over the
strange situation in which he was caught.
“That don’t make no difference,” replied the hobo, who seemed to be
trying to work himself into a passion; “yer showed yer ain’t used to
perlite sassiety and I allers makes a feller pay for the privilege of
coming into the castle of the Duke de Sassy.”
Poor Hoke was scared almost out of his wits. He began fumbling in his
pockets.
“How much is the charge? I haven’t got more’n two or three dollars with
me.”
“In that case, it will take all and that ere watch which I persoom is
tied to t’other end of the chain dangling in front.”
“Why that would be robbery!” exclaimed the lad, indignant at the
impending outrage.
“I wouldn’t call it that, younker; rayther it’s the toll yer hef to pay
for crossin’ this bridge. So yer may as well shell out first as last.”
As Hoke stood, his back was against the side of the wooden wall over
which he had just tumbled, with the tramp scowling and malignant, facing
him. Thus, as will be noted, Biggs was on the side of the structure up
which Mike Murphy had climbed so silently that no one heard him. Hoke in
fact began to rally from his panic and was on the point of shouting for
help when he saw the end of Mike’s buckthorn cane, gripped in his left
hand, slide up into view, instantly followed by the hat and red,
freckled countenance of the Irish youth, who remained motionless for a
moment, while he peered at the curious picture below him.
Before Hoke could utter the glad words on his tongue, Mike shook his
head as a warning for him to hold his peace. The other caught on and did
not look directly at his friend, but straight into the face of the
tousled scamp. Mike was so clearly in his field of vision that Hoke saw
every movement and even the expression of the face which was never more
welcome.
The next instant one knee of Mike rested on the topmost log, then the
foot slid over and he perched firmly on the top with his shillaleh
transferred to his right hand.
The sight of his friend heartened Hoke.
“You can’t have my watch and chain, and I sha’n’t give you a penny! You
have no more right here than I, and you daresen’t lay a hand on me.”
“What’s that? what’s that?” demanded the other, taking a step forward
and thrusting out his ugly visage; “I guess it’s time I teached you
something.”
“Aisy there, Misther Biggs; I think it’s mesilf will hev something to
say ’bout this.”
The hobo whirled about and confronted the Irish lad, seated on the top
of the wall and grasping his heavy cane.
“Where did _yer_ come from?” growled the tramp, who ought not to have
been frightened by the presence of two sturdy youths.
Mike made the Boy Scout salute.
“From Tipperary, county of Tipperary, Ireland. Would ye be kind enough
to exchange cards wid me?” and he pretended to search in his pocket for
that which he never carried. “Clarence, me noble friend,” added Mike,
addressing Hoke Butler, “ye may as well withdraw from this palatial
residence, as me friends used to say when laving our shanty at home.”
Hoke was instant to seize the opportunity thus presented. He clambered
up the logs with the vivacity of a monkey, scooted over the wall,
dropped to the ground and then made off at the highest bent of his
speed. He did not seem to think he was deserting a friend in extremity
and after that friend had been quick to rush to his relief.
A glance behind told Mike the truth, whereat he was displeased, though
he did not show it by his manner. It was not so bad, however, as at
first appeared. Hoke had run only a little way when the cowardice of
what he was doing halted him as abruptly as he had started.
And then it was that an inspiration seized him. Questioning the wisdom
of him and Mike bearding, as may be said, the lion in his den, Hoke made
a pretence that help was near. He shouted at the top of his voice:
“Dr. Spellman! Here we are! Why don’t you hurry up?”
It was pure good fortune that led Hoke thus to appeal to the only person
whom the hobo held in dread, for the youth knew nothing of what had
occurred previously. He was doubtful about calling upon Uncle Elk, and
another Boy Scout did not seem a formidable enough reinforcement. Scout
Master Hall would have served, but Hoke did not think of him.
Mr. Buzby Biggs heard the shouted words and could not forget that the
physician was the owner of firearms and did not seem reluctant to use
them. Although the two vagrants had been spared, it was doubtful whether
mercy would be shown them again. Despite his attempt to bluff, the tramp
could not repress a tremor in his voice.
“What’s he calling that ’ere doctor fur?”
“I think he remarked a remark about telling him to hurry up. Av coorse
ye will be glad to meet the docther agin.”
“Not by a blamed sight; him and me don’t speak as we pass by.”
“He prefers to spake wid his revolver, I belave.”
Mike had been instant to read the trick of Hoke, and he helped all he
could. Biggs was in such a fright he could not hide it. The last person
in the world whom he wished to meet was the medical man. He turned to
imitate the action of Hoke Butler.
“Howld on! None of that!” commanded Mike in such a peremptory voice that
Biggs with hands on the logs in front and one foot raised, checked
himself and looked around.
“What do yer want?” he growled; “hain’t I a right to leave my home when
I please?”
“Which is what Jimmy Jones said when the sheriff stopped him as he was
breaking-jail. You don’t want to bump up agin the docther whin he has
that pill box in his hand. See here, Biggs, I’ll let you go on one
condition.”
“What’s that?” growled the other.
“Yesterday when ye and t’other scamp was paddling off in the canoe ye
stole, ye made a sudden dive overboord and swum fur shore; by yer manner
I knowed ye wouldn’t run the risk of taking a bath if ye hadn’t been
scared out of what little wits ye had.”
“It would have been the same with yer, if yer’d seen what we did.”
“If ye’ll tell me what ye obsarved, ye may lave whin you choose and I’ll
give ye me pledge that Docther Spellman won’t harm ye.”
“All right; I’ll tell yer as soon as I git outside this place.”
“You can’t wait till then; ye must give me the sacret while ye are
standing there. If ye don’t I won’t interfare wid the docther working
his will.”
An expression of dread passed over the repulsive face and the man
actually shivered.
“Wai, whin me and Saxy was going along in the canoe we borrered wid me
paddling, I happened to look down into the clear water and my eyes
rested upon—_the devil himself_!”
Mike Murphy was taken aback for the moment by this amazing reply. His
first thought was that the hobo was trifling with him, but, if so, his
acting could not have been better. Astounding as was his declaration the
man believed his own words which conveyed no meaning to the youth.
“Worra now, don’t ye understand it?”
“No; do yer?”
“That clear water sarves like a looking glass. Whin ye looked down ye
obsarved yer own image and I don’t wonder ye took it for owld Nick.”
“But Saxy seed the same as I did,” replied the man, impressed by the not
complimentary explanation of the lad who was perched on top of the log
wall.
“It was his picter that he saan and aich of ye luks more like t’other
than he does like himsilf.”
Biggs shook his head. This wouldn’t do.
“It wasn’t like a man at all.”
“What did it luk like?”
Mike was excited. He felt he was on the eve of clearing up the mystery
which had baffled him and others, though not Uncle Elk, who would say
nothing.
Instead of giving an intelligent reply to the question for a further
bill of particulars, the tramp shuddered as before. There was a whine in
his voice when he spoke:
“Didn’t I answer yer as I agreed? What are yer kicking about?”
“Ye’ve got to do more than that afore I asks the docther not to p’int
his gun this way and pull the trigger.”
“Have yer ever seed the devil?”
“Not afore I looked upon yersilf.”
“Then how do yer expict me to describe him? He was there right under the
canoe and almost close enough to grab us.”
“Did he hev horns and a spiked tail?”
Mike had heard the sound of footsteps behind him on the leaves. Some one
was approaching and he was sure it was Hoke Butler coming back to his
help.
Biggs made no reply to the frivolous question of the youth seated above
him. The taint of superstition in his nature resented such treatment of
a theme which had nothing but terror to him. Mike, certain that he
commanded the situation and was about to learn that which he yearned to
know, felt that he need not haste.
“Ye’ll hev to do better than that, Signor Biggs, but as ye saam to
prefer that the docther should take ye in hand I’ll turn ye over to
him.”
And Mike turned to wink at Hoke Butler, but to his dismay, discovered in
the same moment that his friend was not in sight, and the one who had
come up behind him was Saxy Hutt, the other tramp.