CHAPTER VDISAPPEARANCE OF NUGGET
Ned knew that the dim object must have been a canoe, but its sudden effacement, and the loud cry for help, were mysteries too deep for immediate comprehension. He shouted with all the power of his voice full half a dozen times, but no answer came back.
Then a happy thought flashed into his mind. When he had satisfied himself by shaking it violently that the canoe was firmly lodged on some object—probably a rock—he leaned forward and took his lantern from the hatch. By holding it low in the cockpit he had no difficulty in lighting the wick.
The lantern was a bullseye, and as soon as Ned turned the flashing glare on the surrounding darkness the mystery was solved. The Pioneer was lodged in mid channel on a timber dam. The bow projected a foot or two over the edge, but could go no further owing to lack of water. None was running over at all at this point, and the slimy timbers protruded six or eight inches above the level of the creek.
While Ned was making these investigations the wind ceased, and he heard close at hand a steady roaring noise, like the furious patter of rain on a tin roof.But it was not rain that produced the noise, though big drops were even then beginning to fall.
A twist of the lantern to the left sent a luminous bar of light along the breast of the darn, and revealed a jagged break, fully six feet wide, through which the freed water poured with the speed of a millrace. The chasm was barely a dozen feet from where the Pioneer had lodged, and Ned's first thought was one of gratitude for his own escape. Then he remembered with a thrill of horror what had happened a moment or two before. Which of his companions had been carried through the break, and where was the unfortunate lad now?
As Ned stood with the lantern turned on the fatal spot, a shout rang out behind him, and the next instant the Water Sprite grounded on the edge of the dam beside the Pioneer.
"I'm glad you lit that lantern, Ned," exclaimed Randy breathlessly. "I came pretty near paddling back up the creek. But where are the other fellows?"
Ned pointed to the broken dam and huskily related what had occurred.
Randy was horror stricken.
"I heard that cry for help, too," he said, "but I had no idea what it meant. Are you sure one of the boys went through?"
"I saw the canoe plainly," replied Ned. "There was just one cry for help, and after that I could get no answer when I shouted."
"We'll hope for the best," said Randy stoutly."Perhaps he made the plunge all right, and is half a mile down the creek by this time. Great Cæsar! I hope both the boys didn't go through. No, there's a light now on the left shore. It's either Nugget or Clay with a lantern."
"Paddle over and bring him back with you," directed Ned. "If he tries to come himself he'll go through the break. Be sure to keep away above the dam though, and when you return don't let my lantern mislead you, because I intend to wade along the breastwork and have a look at that hole. If you head for a dozen feet this side of the light you'll likely land where you are now."
Randy promised obedience, and departed in haste. Ned watched him anxiously until he was out of sight. Then he sounded the water with his paddle, and finding it quite shallow he climbed carefully out of the canoe.
Holding the lantern in one hand, and clutching the projecting edge of the dam with the other, he moved along foot by foot, submerged to his waist. It was well that he had this support, for his feet were on the sloping, mud incrusted planks.
When the broken place was three or four feet away the water began to deepen. Ned stopped and flashed the light on the lower side of the dam. He saw little there to comfort him.
The fall was about six feet, and at the bottom of the long, glassy sheet of water which plunged through the break at a frightful speed, great foam crested wavesbegan, and rolled and tumbled in awful confusion as far as the gleam of the bullseye could reach. That a canoe could go through such a place without capsizing seemed an utter impossibility.
There was no sign of one, however, in the quiet eddies on either side of the raging channel, and with this dismal scrap of comfort Ned retraced his perilous journey to the canoe. He had hardly gained it, and climbed in, when Randy and his companion paddled their craft alongside. That companion was Clay. Nugget, then, was the missing Jolly Rover.
"Discover anything?" demanded Randy.
"No. It looks bad for poor Nugget, boys. If the canoe had gone through all right he would have paddled to shore, and been making a big outcry by this time."
"He can't be drowned. I won't believe it," cried Randy. "See here, Ned, isn't it likely that Nugget caught hold of the canoe when it upset, and clung to it? The roar of the water would account for your not hearing his cries."
"It may be," said Ned reflectively, as he dashed a tear from his eye. "If that's the case we will soon overtake him—provided he doesn't let go his hold. Let's have a look at the right hand corner of the dam."
"Yes, that will be the most likely place," added Clay. "The race is on the other side. I nearly blundered into it."
The boys paddled to shore, following the line of the dam, and a brief search with the lantern revealedan easy path by which the canoes could be carried around.
There was no sign of a house, and Clay reported none on the opposite side, so the mill was probably some distance below.
Under the excitement of the moment the boys scarcely felt the weight of the heavily laden canoes. They carried them, one at a time, up a sloping bank, and then down through the bushes to the water.
When they embarked, and paddled out through the quiet shallows to the swift channel in midstream, the wind had nearly subsided and the rain was falling in a desultory fashion which promised only a brief continuance. In fact stars were visible here and there through rifts in the black clouds. The storm seemed to have gone off in another direction.
A short distance below the dam the water became very sluggish, and the boys knew that if Nugget was ahead of them they must speedily overtake him. So they paddled hard, forgetful of weariness and hunger, and at frequent intervals shouted loudly and called their companion by name.
The lanterns were exposed to view so that Nugget could not fail to see the light if he was anywhere near.
For half an hour the three heartsick lads paddled on steadily, and in that time hardly a word was exchanged. They were in no mood for conversation.
Finally the track of yellow light which shone ahead from Ned's bullseye revealed a bit of an island inmid-channel—a strip of gravel and reeds, with a few stunted bushes growing in the center.
Ned drove the Pioneer on the upper point and stepped out. His companions did the same, and Randy asked wearily: "What are you going to do here?"
"Wait for daylight," said Ned. "It's the only thing wecando. We are a good mile and a half below the dam, and if the canoe was drifting in that sluggish water, we passed it long ago. It has probably lodged on some bar, or along the shore, and will be found in the morning."
"Then you think that Nugget is—is drowned?" asked Clay huskily.
Ned stooped and pulled the canoe up on the bar.
"I don't know," he said in a broken voice. "If Nugget was alive he would surely have heard our shouts or seen the lights. We won't know anything positively until morning. It could do no good to paddle up the creek again in the darkness, so we had better wait here as patiently as we can."
No objection was made to this plan, and the boys crawled in among the bushes and sat down with Clay's lantern between them. The passing storm had not cooled the sultry atmosphere, and no fire or blankets were needed.
All seemed stupefied by the terrible misfortune that had happened, though as yet they hardly realized its full significance. They purposely refrained from talking about it, though each knew in his own heart howwildly improbable was the hope that Nugget was still alive.
The hours of that dark, dismal night wore slowly on. There was plenty to eat in the canoes, but no one was hungry now. A lantern was kept burning at the upper point of the island, and from time to time one of the boys went down to the shore and shouted till the echo rang far among the hills. They must have known that it was but a hollow mockery, and yet there was a scrap of consolation even in pretending that hope was not entirely gone.
Ned insisted that his companions should lie down and sleep. This seemed impossible at first, but after a while drowsiness and fatigue asserted their sway. Randy went down to the canoes and returned with three blankets. He and Clay wrapped themselves up, and chose a soft spot among the bushes. In five minutes they were sleeping soundly.
Ned remained where he was for a long while, keeping solitary vigil over his companions. Then he began to pace up and down the island, and finally he pulled the blanket about his shoulders and sat down on the upper end of the bar with his back against the side of the canoe.
It was his intention to remain awake, but unconsciously his eyelids drooped, and after a feeble struggle or two he sank into a deep slumber.
He knew nothing more until he woke in the gray dawn of the morning. For a few seconds his surroundings seemed familiar. Then the bitter truthflashed into his mind, and he rose with an aching heart. He was stiff and shivering, and the cool breeze that blew down the creek, scattering the light, vapory mists over the surface of the water, made him keenly conscious of the pangs of hunger.
He went up in the bushes and wakened Clay and Randy. They followed him stiffly down to the shore, and after dipping their feet in the cool, rippling water, all sat down on the grass and ate a few crackers. Ned offered to build a fire and make some hot coffee, but the others protested that they did not care for it.
The sun was just peeping above the horizon when the boys pushed their canoes into the water and embarked on the dreaded journey up the creek. Both shores were thickly timbered, and to make the search more thorough Ned kept close to the right bank, while Clay and Randy followed the left.
They paddled with leisurely strokes, maintaining a sharp watch on every patch of reeds and every little inlet. In the first mile there was nothing to reward the searchers—not the slightest trace of the missing canoe or its occupant.
Then the channel made a sharp curve, and when they paddled around it they saw, nearly half a mile above, a gray, weather worn mill, standing in a grove of willows on the right hand shore. The dam was visible a hundred yards or so beyond, and the sunlight was dancing on the foaming torrent that poured through the break.
CHAPTER VITHE LOST FOUND
Without lessening their vigilance the boys paddled on against the increasing current. When the mill was very near Ned signaled the others to join him.
They quickly crossed to the right shore, and the three canoes were run into a quiet little nook close to the swirling mouth of the race. The mill was twenty yards above, and a little to the right of it a cozy frame house, overgrown with trailing vines, peeped above the willow trees.
"I thought we had better stop here on account of the swift water," said Ned. "We will go up to the dam on foot, and take a look at the deep holes under the breastwork."
Before Clay or Randy could reply a man came briskly through the trees—the miller beyond a doubt, for his clothes and hat were white with flour. He greeted the boys with a smile and a cherry nod.
"I guess you're the chaps I was just starting out to find," he said. "T'other young chap was getting anxious about you, and not much wonder. He feared you were all drowned, and I guess you thought thesame about him. It was lucky I run across him this morning. You see I went down to the creek at daybreak to look for a stray cow, and when—"
"Did you find a boy called Nugget?" interrupted Ned in great excitement.
"And a green and white canoe called the Imp?" shouted Randy, as he tossed his cap into the air.
"That's about the way of it," responded the miller. "But come up to the house and see for yourselves. You look as if you were nearly starved."
The boys needed no second invitation. With eager steps and light hearts they followed their guide through the trees, and across the little garden to the rear of the house.
The miller threw open the door, and they rushed in with cries of delight. There sat Nugget at the kitchen table, making a fierce onslaught on ham and fried potatoes. He was rigged out in a suit of clothes three times too big for him, and his brown uniform was drying before the fire.
The boys were so glad to see him that they first laughed and then cried almost, while the miller and his wife looked on in wonder.
Nugget took things very coolly.
"Where did you fellows spend the night?" he asked, after the first greetings were over.
"Where didyouspend it?" exclaimed Ned. "You gave us a pretty scare, Nugget. We never expected to see you again."
"Let him spin his yarn while you're eating breakfast,"interrupted the miller. "Lizzie, set three more plates out."
A moment later the boys were attacking the food with keen appetites, and as Nugget was now through, he proceeded to relate his adventures.
"When the wind came up and separated us," he began, "I got pretty badly scared. I was afraid it would rain hard, so I took out my canvass apron and buttoned it over the cockpit, close up to my waist."
"Good for you!" said Ned. "If I'm not mistaken that was what saved you."
"Perhaps it was," resumed Nugget. "I paddled on for a little while, trying to find you fellows. All at once I heard an awful roar, and the canoe made a jump as though it was going to stand on end. I gave one yell, and the next thing I knew big waves were jumping all around me."
He paused to shiver at the recollection.
"And what then?" asked Randy breathlessly.
"Then I was more scared than ever," continued Nugget in a reluctant voice. "So I crawled under the apron and snuggled up in the cockpit. There was plenty of room, and the cushion made a nice soft pillow, and—and—I fell asleep."
"Fell asleep!" ejaculated Ned in amazement. "You don't mean it?"
"Why, yes," said Nugget. "I was awfully tired, you know, and I couldn't keep my eyes open. The next thing I remember is that man there helping meout. It was daylight, and the canoe was in a little channel with thick bushes all around."
The boys were not slow to appreciate the ludicrous side of Nugget's adventure, and they laughed long and heartily.
Then the miller told how he found the canoe in a stretch of back water that ran a few yards in from the creek, and how surprised he was when he pulled the apron off the cockpit and saw Nugget fast asleep.
"I noticed that inlet," said Ned, "but I didn't see anything of the canoe."
"Because I pulled it out in the bushes," replied the miller. "The current has a natural drift toward the place, and clogs it up with rubbish sometimes. The lad had a narrow squeeze of it when he went through that hole in the dam. I intend to fix it as soon as the water goes down a little."
"I don't want to go through any more such places," said Nugget. "I suppose that apron was what kept the water out. I shipped a little bit, though I didn't know it until this morning, when I found my clothes all wet. My extra suit is in your canoe, Randy. I had dry shirts, though. Say, wouldn't I look nice marching down Fifth Avenue in this rig?"
The boys laughed at the idea, and then drew their chairs away from the table, and chatted for half an hour with the miller, relating all that had happened on the previous night, and telling him of their proposed trip to the Susquehanna. He, in turn, gavethem much interesting information about the creek, where to camp and where to fish.
Ten o'clock came before any one realized it, and the boys prepared to depart, in spite of their host's earnest invitation to stay for a day or two. Nugget changed his clothes, and started for the inlet with the miller, while the others embarked in their canoes, after thanking the miller's wife for her hospitality.
The inlet was half a mile down the creek. The boys reached there first, and were joined by the others two or three minutes later.
Fortunately Nugget's paddle was not lost. He had found it stranded along the shore while on his way to the mill that morning.
The boys lingered a moment to shake hands with their kind hearted friend, and thank him for his services.
"That's all right," said the miller, "only too glad to oblige you. Be sure and stop when you pass here again. My name is John Kling."
"We'll spend a week with you next time," returned Ned, as he grasped his paddle.
"Please have the dam mended before then," drawled Nugget.
The miller laughed and waved his hand, and amid a chorus of "good-byes" the Jolly Rovers paddled away from shore. The shadow of misfortune was forgotten, and the future was full of bright anticipations, as before.
The birds sang among the leaves, the fish leapedin the ripples, and the sunlight danced on the blue water.
The little island, where the boys had spent such a wretched night, was soon far behind, and they entered upon a more beautiful stretch of country than they had yet seen. The water was very sluggish, and on each side were great hills densely covered with pine and spruce trees.
The temptations to stop were so frequent that by mid-afternoon the boys were scarcely five miles from the mill—that is to say by water. It was probably less than half that distance in a straight line.
"I'm really hungry again in spite of that big breakfast," said Clay. "Can't we stop and have lunch?"
"I second that," cried Randy.
The others were of the same mind, and as a very pretty spot happened to come within view about that time, they paddled across to it and landed.
Closer inspection only added to the charms of the place.
It lay on the right shore, at the mouth of a deep, dark ravine. A beach of smooth pebbles sloped back to a grassy bank three or four feet high, and on the plateau above were a dozen or more massive girthed pine trees, whose fragrant needles carpeted the ground. A fair sized brook gurgled through the center over a bed of mossy stones, and emptied into the creek.
"We might travel a good many miles and not find such a place as this," said Ned. "Suppose we stayhere for a day or two. Tomorrow is Sunday and we would have to stop then anyhow."
This suggestion was adopted without a dissenting word and the boys became enthusiastic over the prospect. Randy wanted to begin fishing at once, while Nugget proposed an exploration of the ravine. A few sensible words from Ned cooled their ardor, and they started in with a will to arrange the camp.
The tent was staked in a carefully selected spot, and then the canoes were unloaded and placed on the beach in a row, bottom up, so what little water was in them might drain out.
While Nugget and Clay carried the provisions and other articles up to the tent, Ned and Randy washed the dirty dishes of the night before. Then the blankets were put to air on a stout line stretched between two trees, and a great heap of firewood was collected.
"That's all for the present," said Ned, as he finished tying the pennant to the front tent pole. "You can do a little fishing now if you want to. Don't venture far away from the camp, because I'm going up the ravine to look for a farmhouse."
Randy declared that he was tired and would rather stay by the tent, so Nugget and Clay prepared their rods and went down the creek a short distance to a jutting point of rock. With a diminutive hook they caught a couple of minnows, which they used for bait.
For a long time their patience was unrewarded, but finally Nugget had a strike, and after a severe strugglehe landed a fine bass that could not have weighed less than a pound. Clay caught a smaller one, and after that the fish stopped biting.
At sundown they put up their rods and went back to camp. Ned had just returned, bringing with him a pair of dressed chickens and a pail of milk.
"These will make us a good dinner to-morrow," he said. "I had a hard time finding the farmhouse. It was more than a mile away, and the path led through the woods for nearly the whole distance. I suppose you are pretty hungry by this time. If you all pitch in and help we'll soon have supper."
In a short time the fire was blazing merrily. Ned was as good as his word, and themenuhe set before the boys that night was a tempting one. It included fried bass, ham and eggs, and baked potatoes, with milk and pie for desert.
As the night was warm all indulged in a delicious swim after the supper dishes were cleared up. At nine o'clock they turned in and tied the tent flaps shut. Even this precaution was felt to be unnecessary, since the very loneliness of the place was a protection against harm.
Randy, who occupied the proud position of log keeper to the Jolly Rovers, sat up for a while to jot down the events of the cruise in a blank book. He finally extinguished the lantern with a sigh of satisfaction, and was soon sleeping beside his companions.
Sunday dawned bright and clear, but the boys didnot get up until nine o'clock. The pine needles made a couch that was hard to leave. The day was observed in a spirit of proper regard. Its monotony was somewhat alleviated by the dinner of fried chicken, but all were glad when night came.
CHAPTER VIIBATTERS AND JOE
Ned was up with the sun on Monday morning. He pulled the tent flaps wide open, so that the cool air would stream in and awaken his companions. Then he threw a towel over his shoulder and marched down to the mouth of the brook to wash his face and hands.
But this laudable purpose was quite driven from his mind by the discovery which greeted his eyes when he arrived there. On the spit of jutting sand which had formed at the junction of the creek and the brook was the deep imprint of a boat's keel, and close by were half a dozen large footsteps.
They looked quite fresh, and had evidently been made by two persons. Some were long and pointed; others square toed, and shod with nails or pegs.
As Ned gazed on these evidences of a nocturnal visit, he felt pretty much as did Robinson Crusoe when he discovered the print of naked feet on his island.
It was impossible to tell where these strangers had been, since the gravel beach and the grassy soil beyond it left no traces.
Ned washed his face and hands and returned to thetent with a troubled mind. The boys were awake by this time, and he told them of his discovery.
"Hullo! that explains something," exclaimed Clay. "I got awake last night, and struck a match to find the pail of water that was standing outside the tent. I thought I heard a noise down by the creek, but I was too sleepy to bother about it, and went back to bed."
"Then you must have scared these fellows off," said Ned. "That accounts for nothing being stolen. Everything of value was in the tent, however, and I don't suppose they cared to meddle with the canoes."
"Do you think these are the same men that the farmer chased off his land?" asked Randy.
"Very likely," replied Ned. "I'm sorry now that I didn't inquire more about them. The best thing we can do is to break camp and put about ten miles between us and this place."
"That would be cowardly," exclaimed Randy. "We have no reason to be afraid of these fellows. They'll get a warm reception if they meddle around camp again. Let's stay here for one day anyhow. We won't find many prettier places, and besides, I'm anxious to do some hunting and fishing."
Clay seemed disposed to side with Randy, while Nugget favored both sides of the question. He wanted to go, and he was just as anxious to catch some more bass down at the point of rocks.
Ned hesitated for a moment. He knew that it would be the more prudent plan to break camp atonce, but the same time he was not inclined to insist upon it, and thus incur the ill will of his companions.
"I see that the majority is against me," he said good naturedly. "But if we get in any kind of a scrape you fellows will shoulder the blame, that's all."
The boys appeared to be satisfied with this arrangement. They trooped off to the brook to wash, while Ned turned aside to make the fire.
After breakfast Randy shouldered his gun and started down the creek in search of snipe or woodcock. Clay and Nugget caught a pailful of minnows and departed for the point of rocks, for this was the time of day when the bass would probably bite best.
Ned did not accompany them. He had the true appreciation of outdoor life, and was never happier than when doing odd bits of work around the camp. He occupied himself in this way for an hour or two—arranging the interior of the tent, hanging the blankets out to air, stacking the wood neatly by the fireplace, and scrubbing the frying pans and the outside of the coffee pot with sand and gravel.
He was scooping out a little fish pond at the mouth of the brook when Randy returned.
"What luck?" he asked, looking up from his work.
"Not a thing," answered Randy in a disappointed tone. "The snipe are all on the other side of the creek. I'm going after them now in my canoe. I tramped along the shore for at least a mile, Ned, and I didn't see a trace of anybody, either on this side oron the other. Our midnight visitors must have cleared out for good."
"I hope they have," said Ned. "What luck are the boys having?"
"Four bass, and one of them is a big fellow. Help me up with my canoe now, will you?"
Ned rendered the desired assistance.
"Don't stay too long," he told Randy.
"I'll be back inside of an hour," was the reply, as the other paddled swiftly down the creek.
Ned finished the fish pond to his satisfaction, and feeling a little tired, he climbed up the slope and threw himself down in a clump of high grass behind the tent. He was gazing dreamily up the creek with his head resting on his outstretched arms, when a boat containing two persons came suddenly into view around the bend.
Ned crept a little deeper into the grass, where he could see without being seen. The boat was now out of sight behind the trees, but when it reappeared a moment later, directly opposite the camp, a single glance satisfied Ned that it was not the same craft which had landed at the mouth of the brook during the previous night.
This was a rude affair known as a "flat." It was long and narrow, with square ends and sides, and from its cranky motion evidently had no keel.
The occupants were young fellows of twenty or thereabouts. They were roughly dressed, and their general appearance was by no means favorable. Theystopped paddling in amazement when they caught sight of the camp, and after a brief conversation, which Ned did not catch, they ran their craft on shore a few yards below the mouth of the brook.
Ned shifted his position, and watched their movements curiously. The strangers evidently intended to pitch a camp of their own, for they made frequent trips up the slope, carrying blankets and tin pails, and various other articles. Then they chopped down a number of fine shoots, and constructed, in a brief space of time, a snug lean-to between two big trees.
Having placed their things in this—casting suspicious glances all the while at the tent—they went back to the boat, climbed in, and paddled swiftly down the creek.
Ned rose to his feet, and looked after them in amazement. As the boat vanished around the sharp curve that the creek made immediately below the camp, he noticed for the first time a bait box trailing on behind.
"I understand it now," he muttered. "Those fellows are out for a fishing trip, and they're going down to the rocks to set their lines. I hope they won't get into a row with Clay and Nugget."
The possibility of such a thing made Ned uneasy. He stood in perplexity for a moment or two, and had just made up his mind to go down and look after the boys, when the sound of loud, angry voices reached his hearing.
He hesitated no longer, but leaped down the slopeand ran at full speed along the beach. Bursting through a covert of reeds and tall bushes, he emerged within a few yards of the rocks.
On the outermost bowlder, close to the swirling current, were Nugget, Clay, and the two strangers. The flat was drawn out on shore.
As Ned put foot on the nearest rock the taller of the strange lads struck Nugget violently on the arm with a paddle. Clay immediately hit the cowardly fellow in the breast, and in the struggle that followed the latter lost his balance and rolled backward into the swift current. His companion pounced on Clay, and they came down together on the rock, while Nugget stood by, holding his injured arm and shouting for help.
Ned took in the situation at a glance. He saw that the lad in the water was a poor swimmer, and could make no headway against the current. Without stopping to count the cost he threw off his coat, and ran to the edge of the bowlder.
"Bring the boat quick!" he shouted to Clay and his assailant, who had fallen apart and were glaring wrathfully at each other.
Then Ned put his arms together and dived head first into the foaming water. He came to the surface half a dozen yards below, and struck out vigorously for the struggling lad, who was by this time on the point of exhaustion.
Ned was an admirable swimmer, and absolutely fearless in the water.
"Keep cool, and don't struggle," he shouted, as he reached the fellow and put on hand on his collar.
The other had sense enough to obey, and both floated down stream together.
It was out of the question for Ned to reach the shore immediately with his heavy burden, and as Clay and the other lad were slow about launching the boat, the affair might have ended seriously. But just at that time Randy came paddling up the creek in his canoe, and spied the drifting figures.
He was soon alongside, and as the stern of the Water Sprite swung toward them, Ned and his companion each threw an arm over it.
Then Randy paddled for the shore, and landed about sixty feet below the rocks.
Clay and the other stranger reached the spot in the boat just as Ned and the lad he had so nobly rescued, waded out on the beach. The latter shook the water from his clothes and hesitatingly approached Ned.
"I dunno' how to thank you for what you did," he said sheepishly. "I'm mighty sorry I hit that chap. Me and Joe were downright mad because you'uns were fishing thar in our place. You see we come here from the mountains every now and then, and ketch a lot of bass, and sell 'em back at Newville. I reckon it ain't our place anyhow, an' you'uns can fish thar as much as you please. My name is Jim Batters—Batters they allus calls me—and that's my brother Joe there."
"I'm glad to know you, Batters," said Ned, holdingout his hand. "You are welcome to your fishing ground. We are going away to-morrow anyhow. As for the quarrel—we'll just let that drop. You had better go up to camp now and dry your clothes."
Batters was not satisfied, however, until he had apologized all around, and made Joe do the same. Nugget had arrived by this time, and he declared that his arm no longer pained him.
Then the whole party went up the creek, some on water and some on land. The two mountaineers were tall, lanky youths with expressionless faces, surrounded by shocks of yellow hair.
They wore homespun clothes and high boots. They were speedily on intimate terms with Jolly Rovers, and gladly accepted Ned's invitation to dinner. They asked many curious questions, and lost themselves in admiration over the canoes.
Ned told them about the nocturnal visitors of the previous night, and inquired if they had seen anything of the men. Both stoutly replied in the negative, but a swift, covert glance that passed between them did not escape Ned's attention.
During the remainder of the day he remembered it more than once. When dinner was over they all went down to the rocks, and Batters and Joe proudly displayed their skill at fishing. In two hours they caught fifteen large bass. For bait they used crabs and lizards, which they had brought from the mountains.
In the evening Randy entertained the country lads with a mouth organ performance, and at ten o'clockthe visitors went to their camp on the other side of the brook.
It had been a long day, and the Jolly Rovers were glad to get to bed. They were too drowsy to think about the possibility of another visit from the mysterious boat, and in a very few minutes all were sound asleep.
About midnight—as nearly as he could judge afterward—Ned sat up with a start, firmly convinced that some danger was at hand. As he listened with a wildly throbbing heart, soft footsteps cracked on the pine needles outside, and then the tent flap was torn open, revealing against the lingering embers of the campfire the semblance of a human form.
"Hi! you chaps in thar!" whispered a gruff and unfamiliar voice. "Get awake, quick!"
The words had a soothing affect on Ned's fears, and satisfied him that the visitor—whoever he was—had come in the guise of friendship. He drew a match from his pocket and rubbed it on his trousers. It ignited, and revealed the pale face of Batters, framed between the tent and flap.
"Great Cæsar! Is it you?" exclaimed Ned. "What's wrong?"
"Hush! not so loud," whispered Batters. "Put that light out, quick!"
Ned obeyed in haste.
"Now rouse the other chaps, and do it quietly, so they don't make no noise."
This was a pretty stiff order, and Ned had somefears for the result. Happily all went well, and in two or three minutes an audience of four trembling and well nigh panic stricken lads was sitting in the darkness, listening to Batter's ominous tale.
"Joe waked me up a little while ago," he began, "an' said there was a strange boat, an' two men in it, down by the mouth of the run. I tole Joe ter stay an' watch our stuff. Then I sneaked along the shore an' seen the fellows sittin' on the beach along side the canoes.
"I didn't dare go close enough to hear what they was sayin', so I come right up to the tent. I reckon you uns had better make a move afore the canoes get carried off. I'll do what I kin fur you. If we all take paddles and run out yellin' an' screachin' mebbe the fellars will get scared and make tracks without showin' fight."
This proposition rather staggered the boys.
"The thieves probably want more than the canoes," said Ned. "It's very likely they are right outside the tent now. I hardly know what we ought to do."
"Let's give them our money and watches, and anything else they want," suggested Nugget. "If we don't they'll surely cut our throats."
"Keep quiet!" whispered Clay savagely. "If you don't I'll throw you out of the tent."
At this awful threat Nugget subsided and buried his head in his blanket.
Meanwhile Randy, whose temper was beginning to rise at the thought of being robbed, had quietly reachedfor his gun, and was fumbling with it under cover of the darkness.
An unlucky move dashed the stock against his lantern, and the crash of broken glass followed. At the same moment Batters called in a loud whisper, "Here they are. I see them movin' among the trees."
At this startling news a wailing cry broke from Nugget, and an instant later a gruff voice called distinctly:
"Come out of that one at a time, young fellars. Move lively, an' you won't be harmed."
There was dead silence for a few seconds, and then the command was repeated in a more peremptory tone.
"They ain't got no shootin' weapons," whispered Batters; "only short sticks. I can see 'em by the firelight."
On hearing this, Randy was seized with a sudden access of courage. Gun in hand, he dashed by his companions to the front of the tent.
Batters saw the glint of the weapon and made a futile grab at it.
"Don't do no shootin'," he whispered hoarsely.
The warning came too late. Randy stepped out from the flaps and raised it to his shoulder.
"Make tracks, you villains," he shouted, "or I'll put daylight through you." (This was a favorite expression of Randy's purloined from the life of Kit Carson.) Then, as retreating footsteps were heard, he lowered the weapon a little and pulled the trigger.
The thunderous report was followed by a yell of pain, and two voices hissed out dire threats of vengeance as the baffled men went hastily down the slope.
As Randy turned toward his companions Batters sprang at him and wrenched the weapon from his hands.
"Didn't I tell you not to shoot?" he cried. "Now you've gone an' hit Bug. I kinder feared it might be him, but I wasn't certain. That's him swearin' this very minute. Oh! I'll fix you for this."
Pushing Randy to one side and dashing the gun on the ground, Batters vanished in the darkness, yelling at the top of his voice, "Bug! Bug! it's me!"
The boys were overcome with terror and amazement. Who in the world was Bug, and why should Batters be so anxious about him?
"Why did you do that?" demanded Ned sternly. "If you have shot any one don't expect us to shield you."
Randy did not reply. He staggered into the tent and rolled over in helpless mirth.
"It—it was—a salt cartridge," he finally was able to gasp. "I had—three or four of them. I read how to make them—in a book. Didn't I pepper their legs nicely though.
"I don't care what it was," exclaimed Ned angrily. "You ought to be ashamed of yourself. You'll break up this trip yet with your foolishness."
Randy sobered down in a moment or two, and when he joined the others outside the tent he was disposedto take a less humorous view of his smart performance. A light was visible at the mouth of the brook, and four figures could be seen around it.
Joe had evidently joined his brother. The conversation that was carried on was for the most part inaudible, but now and then a threatening sentence could be heard, or a few words of entreaty.
"Serious trouble will come out of this," said Ned. "For half a cent I'd deliver you over to those fellows, Randy. The worst of it is that they were going away when you fired."
"Dodging behind trees, that's all," replied Randy.
"Not a bit of it," exclaimed Ned angrily. "They were running toward the creek."
As Clay stoutly backed up this assertion, Randy lapsed into sullen silence. He was more frightened than he chose to let appear.
After what seemed a painfully long interval to the waiting boys, Batters came softly out of the gloom and stood before them.
"I reckon there ain't no more danger," he said. "It wasn't Bug what was hit; the other fellow. He's sittin' down thar on the stones now, a pickin' lumps of salt out of his legs with a knife blade. He's mad as blazes too, an' me an Bug had all we could do ter keep him from comin' back here.
"I tole Bug how you saved my life, an' when he heard that he put his foot down an' swore you chaps shouldn't be harmed. Bug ain't bad at heart, he ain't. As soon as the other fellow gits all the salt out they'reboth going away. They hev a camp somewhere's down the creek."
"But who are these men, Batters, and what do you know about them?" asked Ned.
The lad hesitated for a moment.
"I reckon I might as well make a clean breast of it," he said in a pitiful tone. "Don't you-uns think bad of me an' Joe though, cause we've been brung up different, 'deed we have—."
"Look here, Batters, you needn't tell us if you don't want to," interrupted Ned sympathetically.
He had an inkling of the true state of affairs, and wished to spare the lad what was evidently a painful recital.
"No, I'd better tell," responded Batters. "It's just this way. Bug is big brother to me and Joe, only he's about six years older than us. You see when he was a little chap dad an' mammy lived down near Middlesex, an' Bug he got in bad company. When dad moved up to the Gap, Bug was toler'ble bad, an' since then he's been gittin' worse.
"He was in Carlisle jail twict fer stealin', an' in summer he jest lives shiftless like along the creek, helpin' hisself to the farmers' stuff. Now he dassent come home no more, for dad says he won't own him fur a son. Mammy cries heaps an' says her heart's broke.
"You see dad an' mammy are honest, if they are poor, an' they made me an' Joe promise we'd never take nothin' what don't belong to us. Mammy saysshe wants us ter grow up the right way, an' not be bad an' wuthless like—like Bug—."
Here Batters broke down and began to cry softly. His sad little tale—alas! only too common in all walks of life!—had deeply moved his hearers, and more than one of the boys had tears in their eyes.
Ned walked over and threw his arm around the weeping lad.
"Don't cry, Batters," he said softly. "Some day Bug will find out his mistake and begin to do better. We don't think any the less of you and Joe on his account. Stick to your mother, and do what she says, and you'll be sure to grow up the right kind of men."
Batters was consoled by this boyish sympathy. He wiped his eyes and looked gratefully at Ned.
"Here, take this," said Nugget, holding out a handsome pocket knife. "It's got four blades, and a corkscrew, and a file."
Batters looked doubtfully at the treasure. Randy had just lighted a lantern, and the rays flashed on the mother of pearl handle.
"I want you to have it," said Nugget, "my father will send me plenty more from New York."
The temptation was too much. Batters took the knife with a smile, and incoherently tried to thank the donor.
All at once the creaking of oars was heard, and a moment later Joe joined the party.
"They've gone," he announced. "T' other fellow got tired pickin' the salt out. Bug tole him he oughtto be glad cause now he was well seasoned. Then the fellow jabbed at Bug with a knife. Missed him though."
"Well, I'm 'glad the affair is over," said Ned. "We'll be able to get some sleep now. Batters, suppose you and Joe come in our tent? There is room enough."
Batters hesitated and gave an awkward hitch to his trousers.
"I reckon you'd better not do any more sleepin' here," he said uneasily. "Bug pulled me aside, and said I should tell you-uns to light out afore daybreak, 'cause the other fellar will surely come back an' lay fur the chap what shot him. I dunno where Bug picked him up, or who he is. He looks like a tramp, with his dirty beard and wicked eyes. H's a mighty bad man when he gits riled, Bug says. It's a pity that chap shot him, 'cause they were both running away."
"I know that," replied Ned, "and I'm awfully sorry it happened. It was a mean, contemptible trick under the circumstances. But what had we better do now?"
"Well, I reckon it would be better to pack up and start," advised Batters. "You see Bug and the other fellar have a camp about two mile down the creek. You can slide right past it in the darkness, and if you keep on fur a good ways the fellar what was shot won't find you again. Bug tole me they didn't intend to go much further down the creek. You needn't be afraidto travel by night, 'cause there ain't any bad water near here, an' the first dam is twelve mile away."
Ned was inclined to act promptly on Batters' suggestions, and It goes without saying that the others were of the same mind—especially Randy, who had conceived a mortal fear of Bug's companion.
It was between one and two o'clock when the boys began the work of breaking camp, and as Batters and Joe rendered useful assistance, the heavily laden canoes were in the water half an hour later. The start was made in darkness and silence. Ned thanked Batters for the important service he had rendered that night, and added a few words of comfort and sympathy.
Hands were shaken all around, and hopes expressed of meeting again. Then the Jolly Rovers paddled noiselessly away in the gloom, and Batters and Joe went up the beach to their shelter of pine boughs.