THE FINDING OF THE SLOOP.
As said before, the trees and bushes lining the creek on both sides
were very close together, and the three boys had all they could do to
get through to the edge of the water.
"We would have done better had we rowed up the creek in our rowboat,"
said Joe. "Wait a minute, I am all twisted up in this bramble bush."
"Here is some fine sassafras," came from Bart. "Wait till I get some to
chew on." And they all stopped until he had cut some tender shoots for
each. Then they walked on until they came out on a bit of a clearing
close to the water's edge.
"This looks like a wild goose chase," said Fred. He had stepped into a
deep hole and covered one foot with mud, which put him in anything but
an agreeable frame of mind.
"This is the spot where Dan Marcy came from," said Joe. "Let us walk up
the creek a bit further."
"Hullo, what's this?" cried Bart, a second later. "A paint pot, I
declare, and with a little fresh paint in it. How did that get here?"
"We must be on the right track!" shouted Joe.
"How do you make that out, Joe?"
"Don't you see? If the _Sprite_ is here Marcy must be painting her over
and giving her a new name."
"That's so!" ejaculated Fred. "That's just the color a fellow might use
in painting a sloop."
They hurried on, and presently came to a sharp turn where the bushes
were thicker than ever.
"You can't get through there," declared Bart.
"If I can't I'm going to swim up the creek," came from Joe. "I am
positive we are on the right trail."
"There is something of a path," said Fred, pointing to one side. "It
seems to follow the creek, too. It cuts off this elbow."
They turned into the path, and this brought them back to the creek at
another point. Hardly had they come in sight of the water again than
Joe set up a ringing shout:
"There she is! What did I tell you!"
"The _Sprite_, as sure as guns!" came from Bart.
"Won't Paul and his uncle be glad to learn of this," added Fred.
A glance sufficed to show them that the craft was deserted. She had
been run up into the creek as far as possible, and the trees and bushes
all but hid her from view. Her sides were in two colors--the old on one
and the new on the other. The new paint was not yet dry.
"Is anybody around?" asked Bart, in a whisper.
"I don't see anybody," answered Joe. "Wait till we investigate."
They approached the sloop with caution, but soon ascertained that
nobody was aboard the craft. Then they mounted to the deck, Bart
getting some of the new paint on his hands as he did so.
"I believe this was painted this morning," said he, as he was cleaning
his hands. "We got here just in time. If the sloop was painted and had
a new name how could one tell her?"
"Perhaps Paul's uncle could tell her. He knows his craft pretty well."
"He might and he might not. Marcy could cut down the mast a little and
lengthen the bowsprit, and do things like that, and then nobody would
know the boat."
"Well, we nipped the plan in the bud," said Joe. "And the best thing we
can do is to get the sloop out on the lake and sail her to Lakeport."
"And win the reward!" cried Fred.
"It wouldn't be fair for us to claim that reward," put in Bart,
quickly. "We helped to lose the sloop in the first place."
"Of course. I was only fooling. But we are going to have our hands full
getting the sloop out into the lake."
"Let us bring around the rowboat," suggested Joe. "Then we can use a
rope and pull her out."
"By rowing?" queried Bart.
"Oh, no, by carrying the rope forward and catching it around a tree."
This was considered a good plan, and Joe went off to get the rowboat.
Soon he came up the creek, and as he drew closer they fastened a rope
to the stern of the _Sprite_ and threw the other end to him. Then all
leaped aboard the rowboat and carried the rope to a tree fifty feet
away.
At first it was hard work to budge the sloop, but once she was started
it was an easy matter to haul her down the creek to the lake. Then all
went aboard, tying their rowboat on behind. The mainsail was hoisted,
and with a fair breeze they were soon bowling merrily over the lake in
the direction of Lakeport.
"We didn't get quite as many fish as we expected," said Bart. "But we
got a haul all right, didn't we?"
"Won't Marcy be mad when he hears that his sloop is gone," said Fred.
"That is, if it really was Marcy."
"I am pretty certain it was Marcy," answered Joe. "Still, I shouldn't
like to go into court to prove it."
As they sailed down the lake they looked the _Sprite_ over carefully
to see if the thief had left any trace of himself on board. But all
they could find was a corn-cob pipe and a half paper of smoking
tobacco, along with the crumbs and leavings of several meals.
"Nothing here," said Joe.
Their coming back to Lakeport in a sloop when they had gone out in a
rowboat caused a mild flutter of excitement down at the docks and this
was increased when it was learned that the missing _Sprite_ had been
found. A boy was at once despatched to tell Mr. Shale the news, and
presently he appeared, followed by his nephew.
"This is great!" cried Paul, as he rushed on board.
"Where did you find the craft?" questioned Mr. Shale.
Their story was soon told, to which quite a gathering listened. But it
was only to the gentleman himself and to Paul that they confided their
suspicion that Dan Marcy had been the one to take the sloop.
"But I can't prove it," added Joe, "and that being so, perhaps I had
better keep my mouth shut about it."
"That is true, my lad," answered the owner of the sloop. "It would
never do to accuse anybody wrongfully. Perhaps it will be a good plan
to have this Marcy watched."
Mr. Shale wished to reward the boys, but they would not listen to it,
and as a result he promised to take them out on the lake whenever they
wanted to go.
"But the boat has got to be cleaned, scraped and painted first," he
added. "I would never wish to use her in her present condition."
When the boys were walking home Fred called Joe and Bart to one side.
"Please don't say anything about that cramp I had," he whispered. "If
my folks hear about it they will never let me go near the water again."
"All right, I shan't say a word," answered Joe. "But you want to be
careful, Fred, about going into the water in the future."
"Yes, for we can't afford to lose you off the club," added Bart, and
then he gave Fred's arm a tight squeeze to show just what he did mean.
He and the stout youth thought a great deal of each other.
The members of the Lakeport Baseball Club had sent a challenge to the
Brookside nine, offering to play a game on some Saturday afternoon
in the near future. An answer was received, choosing the following
Saturday. The game was to be played at Brookside, where the local club
had quite a nice grounds, although the grand stand was small.
"Now we are going up against a pretty good club," said Harry, after the
acceptance was read.
"Do you think they are any better than the Excelsiors?" asked Link.
"They are just as good," put in Walter. "My cousin knows them and he
says so."
The rivalry between Lakeport and Brookside had always been intense,
and in both towns the boys did nothing but talk of the coming game.
The majority of the lads in Lakeport were sure the local nine would be
victorious, but this feeling was not shared by some of the members of
the Excelsiors.
"Humph! they can't win!" sneered Si Voup. "Just wait and see. Brookside
will wax 'em out of their boots!"
"Just what I say," said another player. "The Brookside fellows are at
it nearly every day. Their team work is almost perfect."
"Yes, and they have a fellow who can pitch the nastiest curve you ever
went up against," put in another. "I'm going to bet on Brookside."
Sidney Yates was in the crowd, but he had little to say. The Excelsiors
were going to play a team from Camdale that week, and it galled him
exceedingly to think that he could not be on the team.
"It's all on account of that Fred Rush," he grumbled to himself. "And
Fred is going to Brookside next Saturday to play, while I've got to
stay at the mill and work! It's a shame! I wish I could spoil his fun
for him."
From thinking of Fred, Sidney got to thinking of the other members of
the Lakeport nine, and he soon reached the conclusion that he hated
them all.
"Oh, if I could only do something to spoil that game for them!" he
told himself. "If I could only do something!"
When a person wishes to do wrong it is usually not long before an
opportunity presents itself. Sidney went past the Darrow homestead that
afternoon and saw some of the club members in front of the carpenter
shop, dusting and cleaning their baseball suits, which were usually
kept on hooks in the club room, the association not having as yet had
lockers built for that purpose.
"I've got it!" he told himself. "I wonder if I can work it? Oh, it's
just the dandy scheme. Won't they feel sick all over when they find out
what has happened!"