A week passed, and the Speedwell again rode proudly at her moorings, in front of the cottage; but her appearance was greatly changed. A "center-board" and several handy lockers had been neatly fitted up in her, and her long, low hull painted black on the outside and white on the inside; and her tall, raking mast and faultless rigging gave her quite a ship-like appearance.
Frank had just been putting on a few finishing touches, and now stood on the wharf admiring her. It was almost night, and consequently he could not try her sailing qualities that day; and he was so impatient to discover whether or not he had made a failure, that it seemed impossible for him to wait.
While he was thus engaged, he heard the splashing of oars, and, looking up, discovered two boys rowing toward him in a light skiff As they approached, he recognized George and Harry Butler, two of his most intimate acquaintances. They were brothers, and lived about a quarter of a mile from Mrs. Nelson's, but they and Frank were together almost all the time. Harry, who was about a year older than Frank, was a very impulsive fellow, and in a moment of excitement often said and did things for which he felt sorry when he had time to think the matter over; but he was generous and good-hearted, and if he found that he had wronged any one, he never failed to make ample reparation. George, who was just Frank's age, was a jolly, good-natured boy, and would suffer almost any indignity rather than retaliate.
"Well, Frank," said Harry, as soon as they came within speaking distance, "George and I wanted a little exercise, so we thought we would row up and see what had become of you. Why don't you come down and see a fellow? Hallo!" he exclaimed, on noticing the change in the Speedwell's appearance, "what have you been trying to do with your old scow?"
"Why, don't you see?" said Frank. "I've been trying to make a yacht out of her."
"How does she sail?" inquired George.
"I don't know. I have just finished her, and have not had time to try her sailing qualities yet."
"I don't believe she will sail worth a row of pins," said Harry, confidently, as he drew the skiff alongside the Speedwell, and climbed over into her. "But I'll tell you what it is," he continued, peeping into the lockers and examining the rigging, "you must have had plenty of hard work to do in fixing her over. You have really made a nice boat out of her."
"Yes, I call it a first-rate job," said George. "Did you make the sails yourself, Frank?"
"Yes," answered Frank. "I did all the work on her. She ought to be a good sailer, after all the trouble I've had. How would you like to spend an hour with me on the river to-morrow? You will then have an opportunity to judge for yourself."
The boys readily agreed to this proposal, and, after a few moments' more conversation, they got into their skiff and pulled down the creek. The next morning, about four o'clock, Frank awoke, and he had hardly opened his eyes before he was out on the floor and dressing. He always rose at this hour, both summer and winter; and he had been so long in the habit of it, that it had become a kind of second nature with him. Going to the window, he drew aside the curtain and looked out. The Speedwell rode safely at the wharf, gallantly mounting the swells which were raised by quite a stiff breeze that was blowing directly down the creek. He amused himself for about two hours in his shop; and after he had eaten his breakfast, he began to get ready to start on the proposed excursion. A large basket, filled with refreshments, was carefully stowed away in one of the lockers of the Speedwell, the sails were hoisted, the painter was cast off, and Frank took his seat at the helm, and the boat moved from the shore "like a thing of life." The creek was too narrow to allow of much maneuvering, and Frank was obliged to forbear judging of her sailing qualities until he should reach the river. But, to his delight, he soon discovered one thing, and that was, that before the wind the Speedwell was no mean sailer. A few moments' run brought him to Mr. Butler's wharf, where he found George and Harry waiting for him. Frank brought the Speedwell around close to the place where they were standing in splendid style, and the boys could not refrain from expressing their admiration at the handsome manner in which she obeyed her helm. They clambered down into the boat, and seated themselves on the middle thwarts, where they could assist Frank in managing the sails, and in a few moments they reached the river.
"There comes Bill Johnson!" exclaimed George, suddenly, "just behind the Long Dock."
The boys looked in the direction indicated, and saw the top of the masts and sails of a boat which was moving slowly along on the other side of the dock.
"Now, Frank," said Harry, "turn out toward the middle of the river, and get as far ahead of him as you can, and see if we can't reach the island [meaning Strawberry Island] before he does."
Frank accordingly turned the Speedwell's head toward the island, and just at that moment the sail-boat came in sight. The Champion—for that was her name—was classed among the swiftest sailers about Lawrence; in fact, there was no sloop that could beat her. She was a clinker-built boat, about seventeen feet long, and her breadth of beam—that is, the distance across her from one side to the other—was great compared with her length. She was rigged like Frank's boat, having one mast and carrying a mainsail and jib; but as her sails were considerably larger than those of the Speedwell, and as she was a much lighter boat, the boys all expected that she would reach the island, which the young skippers always regarded as "home" in their races, long before the Speedwell. The Champion was sailed by two boys. William Johnson, her owner, sat in the stern steering, and Ben. Lake, a quiet, odd sort of a boy, sat on one of the middle thwarts managing the sails. As soon as she rounded the lock, Harry Butler sprang to his feet, and, seizing a small coil of rope that lay in the boat, called out,
"Bill! if you will catch this line, we'll tow you."
"No, I thank you," answered William. "I think we can get along very well without any of your help."
"Yes," chimed in Ben. Lake, "and we'll catch you before you are half-way to the island."
"We'll see about that!" shouted George, in reply.
By this time the Speedwell was fairly before the wind, the sails were hauled taut, the boys seated themselves on the windward gunwale, and the race began in earnest. But they soon found that it would be much longer than they had imagined. Instead of the slow, straining motion which they had expected, the Speedwell flew through the water like a duck, mounting every little swell in fine style, and rolling the foam back from her bow in great masses. She was, beyond a doubt, a fast sailer.
George and Harry shouted and hurrahed until they were hoarse, and Frank was so overjoyed that he could scarcely speak.
"How she sails!" exclaimed Harry. "If the Champion beats this, she will have to go faster than she does now."
Their pursuers were evidently much surprised at this sudden exhibition of the Speedwell's "sailing qualities;" and William hauled more to the wind and "crowded" his boat until she stood almost on her side, and the waves frequently washed into her.
"They will overtake us," said Frank, at length; "but I guess we can keep ahead of them until we cross the river."
And so it proved. The Champion began to gain—it was very slowly, but still she did gain—and when the Speedwell had accomplished half the distance across the river, their pursuers were not more than three or four rods behind.
At length they reached the island, and, as they rounded the point, they came to a spot where the wind was broken by the trees. The Speedwell gradually slackened her headway, and the Champion, which could sail much faster than she before a light breeze, gained rapidly, and soon came alongside.
"There is only one fault with your boat, Frank," said William; "her sails are too small. She can carry twice as much canvas as you have got on her now."
"Yes," answered Frank, "I find that I have made a mistake; but the fact is, I did not know how she would behave, and was afraid she would capsize. My first hard work shall be to make some new sails."
"You showed us a clean pair of heels, any way," said Ben. Lake, clambering over into the Speedwell. "Why, how nice and handy every thing is! Every rope is just where you can lay your hand on it."
"Let's go ashore and see how we are off for a crop of strawberries," said Harry.
William had pulled down his sails when he came alongside, and while the conversation was going on the Speedwell had been towing the Champion toward the island, and, just as Harry spoke, their bows ran high upon the sand. The boys sprang out, and spent two hours in roaming over the island in search of strawberries; but it was a little too early in the season for them, and, although there were "oceans" of green ones, they gathered hardly a pint of ripe ones.
After they had eaten the refreshments which Frank had brought with him, they started for home. As the wind blew from the main shore, they were obliged to "tack," and the Speedwell again showed some fine sailing, and when the Champion entered the creek, she was not a stone's throw behind.
Frank reached home that night a good deal elated at his success. After tying the Speedwell to the wharf, he pulled down the sails and carried them into his shop. He had promised, before leaving George and Harry, to meet them at five o'clock the next morning to start on a fishing excursion, and, consequently, could do nothing toward the new sails for his boat for two days.
Precisely at the time agreed upon, Frank might have been seen sitting on the wharf in front of Mr. Butler's house. In his hand he carried a stout, jointed fish-pole, neatly stowed away in a strong bag of drilling, and under his left arm hung his fish-basket, suspended by a broad belt, which crossed his breast. In this he carried his hooks, reels, trolling-lines, dinner, and other things necessary for the trip. Brave stood quietly by his side, patiently waiting for the word to start. They were not obliged to wait long, for hasty steps sounded on the gravel walk that led up to the house, the gate swung open, and George and Harry appeared, their arms filled with their fishing-tackle.
"You're on time, I see," said Harry, as he climbed down into a large skiff that was tied to the wharf, "Give us your fish-pole."
Frank accordingly handed his pole and basket down to Harry, who stowed them away in the boat. He and George then went into the boat-house, and one brought out a pair of oars and a sail, which they intended to use if the wind should be fair, and the other carried two pails of minnows, which had been caught the night before, to serve as bait.
They then got into the boat, and Frank took one oar and Harry the other, and Brave stationed himself at his usual place in the bow. George took the helm, and they began to move swiftly down the creek toward the river. About a quarter of a mile below the mouth of the creek was a place, covering half an acre, where the water was about four feet deep, and the bottom was covered with smooth, flat stones. This was known as the "black-bass ground," and large numbers of these fish were caught there every season. George turned the boat's head toward this place, and, thrusting his hand into his pocket, drew out a "trolling-line," and, dropping the hook into the water behind the boat, began to unwind the line. The trolling-hook (such as is generally used in fishing for black-bass) can be used only in a strong current, or when the boat is in rapid motion through the water. The hook is concealed by feathers or a strip of red flannel, and a piece of shining metal in the shape of a spoon-bowl is fastened to it in such a manner as to revolve around it when the hook is drawn rapidly through the water. This is fastened to the end of a long, stout line, and trailed over the stern of the boat, whose motion keeps it near the surface. It can be seen for a great distance in the water, and the fish, mistaking it for their prey, dart forward and seize it.
A few moments' pulling brought them to the bass ground, and George, holding the stick on which the line had been wound in his hand, waited impatiently for a "bite." They had hardly entered the ground when several heavy pulls at the line announced that the bait had been taken. George jerked in return, and, springing to his feet, commenced hauling in the line hand over hand, while whatever was at the other end jerked and pulled in a way that showed that he was unwilling to approach the surface. The boys ceased rowing, and Frank exclaimed,
"You've got a big one there, George. Don't give him any slack, or you'll lose him."
"Haul in lively," chimed in Harry. "There he breaches!" he continued, as the fish—a fine bass, weighing, as near as they could guess, six pounds—leaped entirely out of the water in his mad efforts to escape. "I tell you he's a beauty."
Frank took up the "dip-net," which the boys had used in catching the minnows, and, standing by George's side, waited for him to bring the fish within reach, so that he might assist in "landing" him. The struggle was exciting, but short. The bass was very soon exhausted, and George drew him alongside the boat, in which he was soon safely deposited under one of the seats.
They rowed around the ground for half an hour, each taking his turn at the line, and during that time they captured a dozen fish. The bass then began to stop biting; and Frank, who was at the helm, turned the boat toward the "perch-bed," which was some distance further down the river. It was situated at the outer edge of a bank of weeds, which lined the river on both sides. The weeds sprouted from the bottom in the spring, and by fall they reached the hight of four or five feet above the surface of the water. They were then literally swarming with wild ducks; but at the time of which we write, as it was only the latter part of June, they had not yet appeared above the water. The perch-bed was soon reached, and Harry, who was pulling the bow-oar, rose to his feet, and, raising the anchor, which was a large stone fastened to the boat by a long, stout rope, lifted it over the side, and let it down carefully into the water. The boat swung around until her bow pointed up stream, and the boys found themselves in the right spot to enjoy a good day's sport.
Frank, who was always foremost in such matters, had his pole rigged in a trice, and, baiting his hook with one of the minnows, dropped it into the water just outside of the weeds. Half a dozen hungry perch instantly rose to the surface, and one of them, weighing nearly a pound, seized the bait and darted off with it, and the next moment was dangling through the air toward the boat.
"That's a good-sized fish," said Harry, as he fastened his reel on his pole.
"Yes," answered Frank, taking his prize off the hook and throwing it into the boat; "and we shall have fine sport for a little while."
"But they will stop biting when the sun gets a little warmer; so we had better make the most of our time," observed George.
By this time the other boys had rigged their poles, and soon two more large perch lay floundering in the boat. For almost two hours they enjoyed fine sport, as Frank had said they would, and they were too much engaged to think of being hungry. But soon the fish began to stop biting, and Harry, who had waited impatiently for almost five minutes for a "nibble," drew up his line and opened a locker in the stern of the boat, and, taking out a basket containing their dinner, was about to make an inroad on its contents, when he discovered a boat, rowed by a boy about his own age, shoot rapidly around a point that extended for a considerable distance out into the river, and turn toward the spot where they were anchored.
"Boys," he exclaimed, "here comes Charley Morgan!"
"Charley Morgan," repeated Frank. "Who is he?"
"Why, he is the new-comer," answered George. "He lives in the large brick house on the hill."
Charley Morgan had formerly lived in New York. His father was a speculator, and was looked upon by some as a wealthy man; but it was hinted by those who knew him best that if his debts were all paid he would have but little ready money left. Be that as it may, Mr. Morgan and his family, at any rate, lived in style, and seemed desirous of outshining all their neighbors and acquaintances. Becoming weary of city life, they had decided to move into the country, and, purchasing a fine village lot in Lawrence, commenced building a house upon it. Although the village could boast of many fine dwellings, the one on Tower Hill, owned by Mr. Morgan, surpassed them all, and, as is always the case in such places, every one was eager to discover who was to occupy the elegant mansion. When the house was completed, Mr. Morgan returned to New York to bring on his family, leaving three or four "servants," as he called them, to look after his affairs; and the Julia Burton landed at the wharf, one pleasant morning, a splendid open carriage, drawn by a span of jet-black horses. The carriage contained Mr. Morgan and his family, consisting of his wife and one son—the latter about seventeen years old. At the time of his introduction to the reader they had been in the village about a week. Charles, by his haughty, overbearing manner, had already driven away from him the most sensible of the village boys who had become acquainted with him; but there are those every-where who seem, by some strange fatality, to choose the most unworthy of their acquaintances for their associates; and there were several boys in Lawrence who looked upon Charles as a first-rate fellow and a very desirable companion.
George and Harry, although they had frequently seen the "new-comer," had not had an opportunity to get acquainted with him; and Frank who, as we have said, lived in the outskirts of the village, and who had been very busy at work for the last week on his boat, had not seen him at all.
"What sort of a boy is he?" inquired the latter, continuing the conversation which we have so unceremoniously broken off.
"I don't know," replied Harry. "Some of the boys like him, but Ben. Lake says he's the biggest rascal in the village. He's got two or three guns, half a dozen fish-poles, and, by what I hear the boys say, he must be a capital sportsman. But he tells the most ridiculous stories about what he has done."
By this time Charles had almost reached them, and, when he came alongside, he rested on his oars and called out,
"Well, boys, how many fish have you caught?"
"So many," answered George, holding up the string, which contained over a hundred perch and black-bass. "Have you caught any thing?"
"Not much to brag of," answered Charles; "I hooked up a few little perch just behind the point. But that is a tip-top string of yours."
"Yes, pretty fair," answered Harry. "You see we know where to go."
"That does make some difference," said Charles. "But as soon as I know the good places, I'll show you how to catch fish."
"We will show you the good fishing-grounds any time," said George.
"Oh, I don't want any of your help. I can tell by the looks of a place whether there are any fish to be caught or not. But you ought to see the fishing-grounds we have in New York," he continued. "Why, many a time I've caught three hundred in less than half an hour, and some of them would weigh ten pounds."
"Did you catch them with a hook and line?" inquired George.
"Of course I did! What else should I catch them with? I should like to see one of you trying to handle a ten or fifteen-pound fish with nothing but a trout-pole."
"Could you do it?" inquired Harry, struggling hard to suppress a laugh.
"Do it? Ihavedone it many a time. But is there any hunting around here?"
"Plenty of it."
"Well," continued Charles, "I walked all over the woods this morning, and couldn't find any thing."
"It is not the season for hunting now," said George; "but in the fall there are lots of ducks, pigeons, squirrels, and turkeys, and in the winter the woods are full of minks, and now and then a bear or deer; and the swamps are just the places to kill muskrats."
"I'd just like to go hunting with some of you. I'll bet I can kill more game in a day than any one in the village."
The boys made no reply to this confident assertion, for the fact was that they were too full of laughter to trust themselves to speak.
"I'll bet you haven't got any thing in the village that can come up to this," continued Charles; and as he spoke he raised a light, beautifully-finished rifle from the bottom of the boat, and held it up to the admiring gaze of the boys.
"That is a beauty," said Harry, who wished to continue the conversation as long as possible, in order to hear some more of Charles's "large stories." "How far will it shoot?"
"It cost me a hundred dollars," answered Charles, "and I've killed bears and deer with it, many a time, as far as across this river here."
Charles did not hesitate to say this, for he was talking only to "simple-minded country boys," as he called them, and he supposed he could say what he pleased and they would believe it. His auditors, who before had been hardly able to contain themselves, were now almost bursting with laughter. Frank and George, however, managed to draw on a sober face, while Harry turned away his head and stuffed his handkerchief into his mouth.
"I tell you," continued Charles, not noticing the condition his hearers were in, "I've seen some pretty tough times in my life. Once, when I was hunting in the Adirondack Mountains, in the northern part of Michigan, I was attacked by Indians, and came very near being captured, and the way I fought was a caution to white folks. This little rifle came handy then, I tell you. But I must hurry along now; I promised to go riding with the old man this afternoon."
And he dipped the oars into the water, and the little boat shot rapidly up the river. It was well that he took his departure just as he did, for our three boys could not possibly have contained themselves a moment longer. They could not wait for him to get out of sight, but, lying back in the boat, they laughed until the tears rolled down their cheeks.
"Well, Frank, what do you think of him?" inquired Harry, as soon as he could speak.
"I think the less we have to do with him the better," answered Frank.
"I did think," said Harry, stopping now and then to indulge in a hearty fit of laughter, "that there might be some good things about him; but a boy that can tell such whopping big lies as he told must be very small potatoes. Only think of catching three hundred fish in less than half an hour, and with only one hook and line! Why, that would be ten every minute, and that is as many as two men could manage. And then for him to talk about that pop-gun of his shooting as far as across this river!—why, it's a mile and a half—and I know it wouldn't shoot forty rods, and kill. But the best of all was his hunting among the Adirondack Mountains, in Michigan, and having to defend himself against the Indians; that's a good joke."
And Harry laid back in the boat again, and laughed and shouted until his sides ached.
"He must be a very ungrateful fellow," said Frank, at length. "Didn't you notice how disrespectfully he spoke of his father? He called him his 'old man.' If I had a father, I'd never speak so lightly of him."
"Yes, I noticed that," said George. "But," he continued, reaching for the basket which Harry, after helping himself most bountifully, had placed on the middle seat, "I'm hungry as blazes, and think I can do justice to the good things mother has put up for us."
After eating their dinner they got out their fishing-tackle again; but the perch had stopped biting, and, after waiting patiently for half an hour without feeling a nibble, they unjointed their poles, drew up the anchor, and Frank seated himself at the helm, while George and Harry took the oars and pulled toward home.
One of the range of hills which extended around the western side of the village was occupied by several families, known as the "Hillers." They were ignorant, degraded people, living in miserable hovels, and obtaining a precarious subsistence by hunting, fishing, and stealing. With them the villagers rarely, if ever, had intercourse, and respectable persons seldom crossed their thresholds. The principal man among the Hillers was known as Bill Powell. He was a giant in strength and stature, and used to boast that he could visit "any hen-roost in the village every night in the week, and carry off a dozen chickens each time, without being nabbed." He was very fond of liquor, too indolent to work, and spent most of his time, when out of jail, on the river, fishing, or roaming through the woods with his gun. He had one son, whose name was Lee, and a smarter boy it was hard to find. He possessed many good traits of character, but, as they had never been developed, it was difficult to discover them. He had always lived in the midst of evil influences, led by the example of a drunken, brutal father, and surrounded by wicked companions, and it is no wonder that his youthful aspirations were in the wrong direction.
Lee and his associates, as they were not obliged so attend school, and were under no parental control, always amused themselves as they saw it. Most of their time was spent on the river or in the woods, and, when weary of this sport, the orchards and melon-patches around the village, although closely guarded, were sure to suffer at their hands; and they planned and executed their plundering expeditions with so much skill and cunning, that they were rarely detected.
A day or two after the events related in the preceding chapter transpired, Charles Morgan, in company with two or three of his chosen companions, was enjoying a sail on the river. During their conversation, one of the boys chanced to say something about the Hillers, and Charles inquired who they were. His companions gave him the desired information, and ended by denouncing them in the strongest terms.
Charles, after hearing them through, exclaimed, "I'd just like to catch one of those boys robbing our orchard or hen-roost. One or the of us would get a pummeling, sure as shooting."
"Yes," said one of the boys, "but, you see, they do not go alone. If they did, it would be an easy matter to catch them. But they all go together, and half of them keep watch, and the rest bag the plunder; and they move around so still that even the dogs don't hear them."
"I should think you fellows here in the village would take the matter into your own hands," said Charles.
"What do you mean?" inquired his companions.
"Why don't you club together, and every time you see one of the Hillers, go to work and thrash him like blazes? I guess, after you had half-killed two or three of them, they would learn to let things alone."
"I guess they would, too," said one of the boys.
"Suppose we get up a company of fifteen or twenty fellows," resumed Charles, "and see how it works. I'll bet my eyes that, after we've whipped half a dozen of them, they won't dare to show their faces in the village again."
"That's the way to do it," said one of the boys. "I'll join the company, for one."
The others readily fell in with Charles's proposal, and they spent some time talking it over and telling what they intended to do when they could catch the Hillers, when one of the boys suddenly exclaimed,
"I think, after all, that we shall have some trouble in carrying out our plans. Although there are plenty of fellows in the village who would be glad to join the company, there are some who must not know any thing about it, or the fat will all be in the fire."
"Who are they?" demanded Charles.
"Why, there are Frank Nelson, and George and Harry Butler, and Bill Johnson, and a dozen others, who could knock the whole thing into a cocked hat, in less than no time."
"Could they? I'd just like to see them try it on," said Charles, with a confident air. "They would have a nice time of it. How would they go to work?"
"I am afraid that, if they saw us going to whip the Hillers, they would interfere."
"They would, eh? I'd like to see them undertake to hinder us. Can't twenty fellows whip a dozen?"
"I don't know. Every one calls Frank Nelson and his set the best boys in the village. They never fight if they can help it; but they are plaguy smart fellows, I tell you; and, if we once get them aroused, we shall have a warm time of it, I remember a little circumstance that happened last winter. We had a fort in the field behind the school-house, and one night we were out there, snowballing, and I saw Frank Nelson handle two of the largest boys in his class. There were about a dozen boys in the fort—and they were the ones that always go with Frank—and all the rest of the school were against them. The fort stood on a little hill, and we were almost half an hour capturing it, and we wouldn't ever have taken it if the wall hadn't been broken down. We would get almost up to the fort, and they would rush out and drive us down again. At last we succeeded in getting to the top of the hill, and our boys began to tumble over the walls, and I hope I may be shot if they didn't throw us out as fast as we could get in, and—"
"Oh, I don't care any thing about that," interrupted Charles, who could not bear to hear any one but himself praised. "If I had been there, I would have run up and thrownthemout."
"And you could have done it easy enough," said one of the boys, who had for some time remained silent.
"Frank Nelson and his set are not such great fellows, after all."
"Of course they ain't," said the other. "They feel big enough; but I guess, if we get this company we have spoken of started, and they undertake to interfere with us, we will take them down a peg or two."
"That's the talk!" said Charles. "I never let any one stop me when I have once made up my mind to do a thing. I would as soon knock Frank Nelson down as any body else."
By this time the boat, which had been headed toward the shore, entered the creek, and Charles drew up to the wharf, and, after setting his companions ashore, and directing them to speak to every one whom they thought would be willing to join the company, and to no one else, he drew down the sails, and pulled up the creek toward the place where he kept his boat.
A week passed, and things went on swimmingly. Thirty boys had enrolled themselves as members of the Regulators, as the company was called, and Charles, who had been chosen captain, had carried out his plans so quietly, that he was confident that no one outside of the company knew of its existence. Their arrangements had all been completed, and the Regulators waited only for a favorable opportunity to carry their plans into execution.
Frank, during this time, had remained at home, working in his garden or shop, and knew nothing of what was going on.
One afternoon he wrote a letter to his cousin Archie, and, after supper, set out, with Brave at his heels, to carry it to the post-office. He stopped on the way for George and Harry Butler, who were always ready to accompany him. On the steps of the post-office they met three or four of their companions, and, after a few moments' conversation, William Johnson suddenly inquired,
"Have you joined the new society, Frank?"
"What society?"
"Why, the Regulators."
"I don't know what you mean," said Frank.
"Yes, I guess they have managed to keep it pretty quiet," said William. "They don't want any outsiders to know any thing about it. They asked me to join in with them, but I told them that they ought to know better than to propose such a thing to me. Then they tried to make me promise that I wouldn't say any thing about it, but I would make no such promise, for—"
"Why, Bill, what are you talking about?" inquired Harry. "You rattle it off as if we knew all about it."
"Haven't you heard any thing about it, either?" inquired William, in surprise. "I was certain that they would ask you to join. Well, the amount of it is that Charley Morgan and a lot of his particular friends have been organizing a company for the purpose of thrashing the Hillers, and making them stop robbing hen-roosts and orchards and cutting up such shines."
"Yes," chimed in James Porter, "there are about thirty of them, and they say that they are going to whip the Hillers out of the village."
"Well, that's news to me," said Frank.
"For my part," said Thomas Benton, "I, of course, know that the Hillers ought to be punished; but I do not think it is the duty of us boys to take the law into our own hands."
"Nor I," said James Porter.
"Well,Ido," said Harry, who, as we have said, was an impetuous, fiery fellow, "and I believe I will join the Regulators, and help whip the rascals out of the country. They ought, every one of them, to be thrashed for stealing and—"
"Now, see here, Harry," interrupted George. "You know very well that such a plan will never succeed, and itoughtnot to. You have been taught that it is wrong to take things that do not belong to you, but with the Hillers the case is different; their parents teach them to steal, and they are obliged to do it."
"Besides," said Frank, "this summary method of correcting them will not break up their bad habits; kindness will accomplish much more than force."
"Kindness!" repeated Harry, sneeringly; "as if kindness could have any effect on a Hiller!"
"They can tell when they are kindly treated as well as any one else," said George.
"And another thing," said Ben. Lake; "these Regulators must be a foolish set of fellows to suppose that the Hillers are going to stand still and be whipped. I say, as an old sea-captain once said, when it was proposed to take a man-o'-war with a whale-boat, 'I guess it will be a puttering job.'"
"Well," said James, "I shall do all I can to prevent a fight."
"So will I," said Frank.
"Iwon't," said Harry, who, with his arms buried almost to the elbows in his pockets, was striding backward and forward across the steps. "I say the Hillers ought to be thrashed."
"I'm afraid," said William, without noticing what Harry had remarked, "that our interference will be the surest way to bring on a fight; because, after I refused to join the company, they told me that if any of us attempted to defend the Hillers, or break up the company, they would thrash us, too."
"We don't want to break up their company," said Frank, with a laugh. "We must have a talk with them, and try to show them how unreasonable they are."
"Here they come, now," said George, pointing up the road.
The boys looked in the direction indicated, and saw the Regulators just turning the corner of the street that led to Mr. Morgan's house. They came around in fine order, marching four abreast, and turned up the street that led to the post-office. They had evidently been well drilled, for they kept step admirably.
"They look nice, don't they?" said Ben.
"Yes," answered George; "and if they were enlisted in a good cause, I would off with my hat and give them three cheers."
The Regulators had almost reached the post-office, when they suddenly set up a loud shout, and, breaking ranks, started on a full run down the street. The boys saw the reason for this, when they discovered Lee Powell coming up the road that led from the river, with a large string of fish in his hand. He always had good luck, but he seemed to have been more fortunate than usual, for his load was about as heavy as he could conveniently carry. He walked rapidly along, evidently very much occupied with his own thoughts, when, suddenly, two or three stones came skipping over the ground, and aroused him from his reverie. He looked up in surprise, and discovered that his enemies were so close to him that flight was useless.
The Regulators drew nearer and nearer, and the stones fell thick about the object of their wrath, until, finally, one struck him on the shoulder, and another knocked his cap from his head.
"I can't stand that," said Frank; and, springing from the steps, he started to the rescue, followed by all of his companions, (except Harry, who still paced the steps), and they succeeded in throwing themselves between Lee and his assailants.
Several of the Regulators faltered on seeing Lee thus defended; but Charles, followed by half a dozen of his "right-hand men," advanced, and attempted to force his way between Frank and his companions.
"Hold on, here!" said Frank, as he gently, but firmly, resisted Charles's attempts to push him aside. "What are you trying to do?"
"What business is that of yours?" answered Charles, roughly, as he continued his efforts to reach Lee. "You question me as if you were my master. Stand aside, if you don't want to get yourself in trouble."
"You don't intend to hurt Lee, do you?"
"Yes, I do. But it's none of your business, any way. Get out of the way!"
"Has he ever done you any harm?"
"It's none of your business, I say!" shouted Charles, now almost beside himself with rage.
"And I want you to keep your hands off me!" he continued, as Frank seized his arm, which he had raised to strike Lee, who stood close behind his protector.
Frank released his hold, and Charles sprang forward again, and, dodging Frank's grasp, slipped under his arm, and attempted to seize the Hiller. But Frank was as quick as a cat in his motions; and, before Charles had time to strike a blow, he seized him with a grip that brought from him a cry of pain, and seated him, unceremoniously, on the ground.
As soon as Charles could regain his feet, he called out,
"Here it is, boys—just as I expected! Never mind the Hiller, but let's go to work and give the other fellows a thrashing that they won't get over in a month."
And he sprang toward Frank, against whom he seemed to cherish an especial grudge, followed by a dozen Regulators, who brandished their fists as if they intended to annihilate Lee's gallant defenders. But, just as Charles was about to attack Frank, a new actor appeared. Harry Butler, who had greatly changed his mind in regard to "thrashing the Hillers," seeing that the attack was about to be renewed, sprang down the steps, and caught Charles in his arms, and threw him to the ground, like a log.
The others had been no less successful in repulsing their assailants; and, when Charles rose to his feet, he saw three or four of the Regulators, who had followed him to the attack, sprawling on the ground, and the rest retreating precipitately.
"Now," said Harry, "let's stop this. We've had enough of it."
But Charles, and several more of the Regulators, seemed to be of a different opinion, and were about to recommence their hostile demonstrations, when Harry continued,
"We've only been playing with you so far Charley; so you had better not try to come any more of your Regulator tricks on us. We don't want to fight, but we shall defend ourselves."
"If you had attended to your own affairs, you would not have been obliged to defend yourselves," said Charles, sullenly.
"What sort of fellows do you suppose we are?" said Harry. "If you expected us to stand still and see thirty fellows pitch on one, you are very much mistaken."
"Come, Lee," said Frank, taking the former by the arm, "I guess we can go now. We'll see you out of harm's way."
The crest-fallen Regulators divided right and left, and allowed Frank and his companions to depart, unmolested. They accompanied Lee almost to the miserable hovel he called "home," and, when about to bid him good-night, he said, with some feeling,
"I'll remember you, boys; and, if it ever comes handy, you will find that Lee Powell has got feelings, as well as any one else."
And he sprang over a fence, and disappeared.