"I don't believe it. I didn't see any thing of her."
"Of course you didn't," said Charles; "you were too intent on catching the Alert. Boys," he continued, "we're fairly beaten. Let's start for the island."
The coast-guards silently obeyed, and the smugglers refrained from making any remarks, for they saw that the squadron's crew took their defeat sorely to heart.
In a few moments the little fleet rounded the foot of the island, and the boys discovered the Champion and Speedwell, lying with their bows high upon the sand, and their crews were busy carrying the provisions under the shade of a large oak, that stood near the water's edge.
As soon as the last vessel came in sight, the smugglers on shore greeted them with three hearty cheers, which George and Harry answered with a will, but the coast-guards remained silent.
In a few moments they had all landed, and the smugglers joined their companions; and Charles took off his hat, and said to the coast-guards,
"Boys, I want to have just one word with you. We have been beaten," he continued, as they gathered silently about him, "completely outwitted; but it was fairly done. We took all the advantage of the smugglers that we could, but they have beaten us at our own game. I feel as cheap as any of you do, but it can't be helped now; and there's no use of having unpleasant feelings about it, for that would spoil a good day's sport. If we didn't catch them, we did our best, and we had a good, exciting race—one that I wouldn't have missed for a good deal. Now, boys, show that you appreciate the good trick that has been played on us, by giving the smugglers three hearty cheers."
This little speech—showing Charles to be a boy of good feeling—had the effect of convincing the coast-guards that to manifest any ill-will at their defeat would be both unkind and selfish, and the cheer that rose from forty strong lungs was almost deafening. The smugglers, who had heard what Charles had said, cheered lustily, in turn, for the coast-guards, and instantly every unkind feeling vanished. The coast-guards readily entered into conversation with the smugglers, and the latter explained the trick of which they had made use, as well as the manner in which the capture of the prisoners was affected, and the adventure with the police-boat; and, although the coast-guards were provoked at themselves for "not having more sense," as they termed it, they could not refrain from joining in a hearty laugh.
By this time the refreshments had all been carried under the tree of which we have spoken, where there was a smooth grass-plat, which made a nice place to set the table.
The boys had spent some time relating various incidents that had occurred during the chase, when Ben suddenly inquired,
"Well, boys, what's to be the order of the day? You know that we came over here to enjoy ourselves, and we had better be about it."
"I think," said Charles, "that it would be a good plan to appoint a committee to arrange those eatables. We came away without our breakfast, and I, for one, feel hungry."
"There's where we had the advantage of you," said Thomas. "While you were hurrying around, and taking your positions, we were eating our breakfast. You see, we took matters easy."
"And beat us, after all," said one of the coast-guards; "it's too bad. But let's have that committee appointed."
A dozen boys were speedily chosen to set the table, and the others, catching up all the empty pails and baskets they could find, scattered over the island in search of strawberries.
In about an hour they met again under the tree, and found the refreshments all ready for them, and they fell to work in earnest. So full were they of their sport, that it took them two hours to eat their dinner, as they had said they had come to enjoy themselves, and felt in duty bound to eat all their baskets contained.
After dinner, one of the smugglers proposed to go squirrel-hunting; but many of the coast-guards had passed the preceding night without any sleep, and, to use their own expression, they "didn't feel like it;" so this project was abandoned, and the boys lay on the grass, under the tree, telling stories, until almost three o'clock, and then began to get ready to start for home.
As every one knows, it would be almost an impossibility for sixteen sail-boats to go any where in company without trying their speed, especially if they were sailed by boys. When our heroes stepped into their vessels, each skipper made up his mind that his boat must be the first one to touch the opposite shore. Not a word was said about a race, but every one knew that one would be sure to come off. Every thing was done in a hurry, and the little vessels were all afloat in a moment. They were on the leeward side of the island—that is, the side from the wind—and they would be obliged to get around to the opposite side before they could use their sails.
The coast-guards shoved their boats out into the current, and allowed themselves to float down toward the foot of the island, thinking that course easier than pulling, against the current, up to the head of the island.
Frank noticed this movement, and said, in a low voice, to the smugglers,
"Don't follow them, boys. They will find themselves becalmed in less than a quarter of an hour. The breeze is dying away. If you want to beat them, hoist your sails, and get out your oars, and row up to the head of the island; we can reach it before they reach the foot, and, besides, the current will carry them further down the river than they want to go."
The smugglers did as Frank had directed; and as they moved from the shore, and turned up the river, one of the coast-guards called out,
"Where are you fellows going?"
"Home," answered Ben.
"You are taking the longest and hardest way."
"The longest way around is the nearest way home, you know," answered William.
"I don't believe it is, in this instance," said James Porter. "Let's see who will be at the long dock first."
"All right," answered the smugglers.
And they disappeared behind a high-wooded promontory of the island.
It was hard work, pulling against a current that ran four miles an hour, but they were accustomed to it, and the thought of again beating the coast-guards gave strength to their arms.
In a few moments a sudden filling of the sails announced that they had caught the breeze. The oars were drawn in, and every sheet hauled taut, and, when they rounded the head of the island, not one of the squadron was in sight.
"I expected," said Harry, speaking in a loud voice, so that the others could hear, "that they would feel the wind long before this."
"Even if they had," answered Frank, "we could have beaten them easily enough. You see, when they come around the foot of the island, they will be some distance below the long dock, and the current will carry them still further down, while we are above it, and can sail right down to it. Here they come!"
The boys looked down the river, and saw the men-o'-war rapidly following each other around the foot of the island.
"I guess they have discovered their mistake before this time," said William. "Now," he continued, as he drew his mainsail down a little closer "the Champion is going to be the first to sail into the creek."
"That's the game, is it?" said Frank. "Ben, perch yourself up on the windward side, and we'll see which is the best boat."
Ben did as he was desired, and the little vessels increased their speed, and bounded over the gentle swells as if some of their crews' spirit had been infused into them. They had started nearly even—the Alert and Champion being a little in advance of the Speedwell—and the boys knew that the race was to be a fair trial of the speed of their boats. The Alert and Speedwell had never been "matched" before, and the boys were anxious to learn their comparative speed. The former was the "champion" boat of the village, and Harry and George were confident that Frank's "tub," as they jokingly called it, would soon be distanced. Frank thought so, too; but the reputation of owning the swiftest boat in the village was well worth trying for, and he determined to do his best.
Since his race with the Champion, he had made larger sails for his boat, and added a flying-jib and a gaff-topsail, and he found that her speed was almost doubled.
The Champion soon fell behind, and the two rival boats were left to finish the race, which, for a long time, seemed undecided. But, at length, the Speedwell, with her strong mast groaning and creaking under the weight of the heavy canvas, began to gain steadily, and soon passed the Alert. Ten minutes' run brought them across the river; and when Frank, proud of the victory he had gained, rounded the long dock, the Alert was full four rods behind.
The breeze was rapidly dying away, and not one of the coast-guards had yet reached the shore. Some of them had been carried almost a mile below the creek, and lay with the sails idly flapping against the masts.
Frank and Ben sailed slowly along up the creek, and, when they arrived at the end of the dock, the Speedwell was "made fast," and the boys started to get their mail.
As they entered the post-office, Frank stepped up to the "pigeon-hole," and the postmaster handed him two letters; one was addressed to his mother, and the other bore his own name, written in a full, round, school-boy's hand.
"Ben," he exclaimed, as he broke the seal, "I've got a letter from Archie. I wrote to him a month ago; I should think it was about time to get an answer."
"See if he says any thing about getting a letter from me," said Ben. "I haven't heard from him in a long time."
Before proceeding further, it may not be improper to say a word about Archie Winters. He was, as we have already said, Frank's cousin, and lived in the city of Portland. He was just Frank's age, and, like him, was kind and generous; but he was not the boy for books. When in school, he was an obedient and industrious pupil, and learned very readily; but, when four o'clock came, he was the first to lay aside his books. He was very fond of rural sports, and, for a city boy, was a very expert hunter; he even considered himself able to compete with Frank. He was also passionately fond of pets, and, if he could have had his own way, he would have possessed every cat and dog in the city. His father was a wealthy ship-builder, and Archie was an only child. But he was not, as is generally the case, spoiled by indulgence; on the contrary, his parents always required his prompt and cheerful obedience, and, when out of their sight, Archie was very careful to do nothing of which he thought his parents would not approve. Every vacation he paid a visit to his cousin, and sometimes staid until late in the winter, to engage in his favorite sport. He was well known to the village boys, among whom his easy and obliging manners had won many a steadfast friend.
But let us now return to the letter, which ran as follows:
PORTLAND,June28, 18—.
DEAR COUSIN: Your letter of the 16th of last month was duly received, and, I suppose, you think it is about time for me to answer it. They say that a person who is good at making excuses is good for nothing else; but, I suppose, you will expect some apology for my seeming neglect. You perhaps remember hearing your mother speak of James Sherman, a cousin whom we had never seen. About two weeks since, father received a letter from his mother, stating that she and James would be at our house in about three days. Well, they came agreeably to notice, and I have had the pleasure of entertaining our cousin ever since. I have had to pilot him around, and show him all the sights, and I have had time for nothing else.
I will not tell you what sort of a fellow he is; I will leave you to judge of his general character, etc. He and his mother are now on their way to Lawrence, and they expect to be at your house about the 6th (July). They intend to remain about two weeks. When I saw them getting into the train, and knew that in a few days they would be with you, I wanted very much to accompany them. But mother saysonenoisy boy in the house is sufficient. (I wonder whether she means you or James!) But as soon as they have ended their visit, if nothing happens, you may expect to see our family landing from the Julia Burton, some fine morning. I have been pent up in the city now almost six months, and I am impatient to get into the country again—especially among the trout-streams about your quiet little village.
I have often thought of the sport we had the day we went up to Dungeon Brook. I know it rained hard, but the string of trout we caught beat any thing of the kind I ever happened to see.
But I've got some good news for you. Father has decided to spend part of the winter at Uncle Joe's, and he promises to take you and me with him; so you can begin to pack up your duds as soon as you wish.
That trout-pole you made for me last winter met with a serious accident a few days since. One of my schoolmates invited me to go up the river with him, and try a perch-bed he had accidentally discovered. I had sent off my heavy pole to the painters, so I was obliged to take my trout-pole. I was afraid that I should break it, but it behaved beautifully for about two hours, during which time I drew in sixty fine perch and rock-bass—some of the former weighing between one and two pounds—and I began to think that the pole was too tough to break. But I was very soon convinced of my mistake, for, as bad luck would have it, I hooked on to a black-bass. I thought I handled him very carefully, but, before we could land him, he broke my pole in three pieces; but the line held, and he was soon floundering in the boat. He was a fine fellow—a regular "sockdologer"—weighing six pounds and a half. But I heartily wished him safe in the bottom of the river. I have laid the pole away, and intend to bring it to you for repairs.
But it is ten o'clock, and father suggests that, if I wish to get to the post-office before the mail closes, I had "better make tracks." So I must stop. Love to all.
Yours affectionately, A. Winters.
P.S.—Please tell Ben and Harry that I will answer their letters immediately. A.W.
By this time the rest of the smugglers had arrived, and, as soon as Frank had run his eye over the letter, and began to fold it up, George inquired,
"Well, what does he say? Did he receive Harry's letter?"
"Yes, and also one from Ben. He says he will answer them at once."
After a few moments' conversation, the boys separated, and started for home, expressing themselves highly delighted at Frank's way of spending the Fourth.
The day on which Mrs. Sherman and her son were expected at length arrived. As a fine breeze was blowing, Frank and his sister—accompanied, of course, by Brave—stepped into the Speedwell, and started to enjoy a sail on the river.
It was now the summer vacation, and the boys were determined to have plenty of recreation after their long siege of study; and, when Frank reached the mouth of the creek, he found the river dotted with white sails as far as he could see. Several of the boats had started on fishing excursions, but the majority of them were sailing idly about, as if nothing particular had been determined on.
Frank turned the Speedwell's head down the river, and soon joined the little fleet. He had hoisted every stitch of canvas his boat could carry, and she flew along, passing several of the swiftest vessels, and finally encountered the Alert. The race was short, for the Speedwell easily passed her, and George and Harry were compelled to acknowledge that, to use their own expression, "the Alert was nowhere."
In about two hours the Julia Burton was seen rounding the point, and a loud, clear whistle warned the villagers of her approach. Frank turned the Speedwell toward home, and arrived at the wharf about ten minutes after the steamer had landed.
As they sailed along up the creek, Julia suddenly exclaimed,
"I wonder who those people are!"
Frank turned, and saw a lady just getting into a carriage, and a boy, apparently about his own age, stood by, giving orders, in a loud voice, to the driver, about their baggage. Both were dressed in the hight of fashion, and Frank knew, from the description his aunt had given his mother, that they were the expected visitors.
As soon as the boy had satisfied himself that their baggage was safe, he continued, in a voice loud enough to be heard by Frank and his sister,
"Now, driver, you're sure you know where Mrs. Nelson lives?"
"Yes, sir," answered the man, respectfully.
"Well, then, old beeswax, hurry up. Show us how fast your cobs can travel."
So saying, he sprang into the carriage, and the driver closed the door after him, mounted to his seat, and drove off.
"Why," said Julia, in surprise, "I guess that's Aunt Harriet—don't you?"
"Yes," answered her brother, "I know it is."
"I am afraid I shall not like James," continued Julia; "he talks too loud."
Frank did not answer, for he was of the same opinion. He had inferred from Archie's letter that James would prove any thing but an agreeable companion.
The brisk wind that was blowing carried them rapidly along, and, in a few moments, they came to a place where the road ran along close to the creek. The distance to Mrs. Nelson's, by the road, was greater, by a quarter of a mile, than by the creek, and, consequently, they had gained considerably on the carriage. Soon they heard the rattling of wheels behind them, and the hack came suddenly around a turn in the road.
James was leaning half-way out of the window, his cap pushed on one side of his head, and, not knowing Frank, he accosted him, as he came up, with his favorite expression.
"Hallo, old beeswax! Saw-logs must have been cheap when you had that boat built. You've got timber enough there to finish off a good-sized barn."
Frank, of course, made no reply; and, in a moment more, the hack was out of sight.
They soon reached the wharf, in front of the house, and Frank helped Julia out, and, after making his boat fast, started toward the house, and entered the room where their visitors were seated.
His aunt's greeting was cold and distant, and she acted as if her every motion had been thoroughly studied. James's acknowledgment was scarcely more than agreeable. To Frank's inquiry, "How do you do, sir?" he replied,
"Oh, I'm bully, thank you, old beeswax. Not you the cod I twigged[A] navigating that scow up the creek?"
A[ Saw.]
Frank acknowledged himself to be the person, and James continued,
"I suppose she's the champion yacht, isn't she?"
"Yes," answered Frank, "she is. There's no boat about the village that can beat her."
"Ah, possibly; but, after all, you had better tell that to the marines. I've seen too much of the world to have a country chap stuff me, now I tell you, old beeswax."
We will not particularize upon James's visit. It will suffice to relate one or two incidents that will illustrate his character.
A day or two after his arrival, he discovered the schooner standing on Frank's bureau, and he could not be contented until he should see "how she carried herself in the water," and Frank, reluctantly, carried it down to the creek and set it afloat.
For a few moments James seemed to have forgotten his evil propensities, and they amused themselves by sailing the schooner from one side of the creek to the other. But he very soon grew tired of this "lame, unexciting sport," as he called it, and, gathering up an armful of stones, he began to throw them into the water near the boat, shouting,
"Storm on the Atlantic! See her rock!"
"Please don't, James," urged Frank; "I'm afraid you will hit the schooner."
"No fear of that," answered James, confidently, still continuing to throw the stones; "I can come within a hair's-breadth of her, and not touch her. Now, see."
And, before Frank could speak, away flew a large stone, with great force, and, crashing through the mainsail of the little vessel, broke both masts and the bowsprit short off.
"There," exclaimed Frank, "I was afraid you would do that."
James did not appear to be in the least sorry for it, but he skipped up the bank, shouting, in an insulting tone,
"There's your boat, old beeswax. When do you expect her in port?"
Frank did not answer, but drew what remained of the schooner to the shore, and, taking it under his arm, started for his shop, saying,
"Now, that's a nice cousin for a fellow to have. I'll do my best to treat him respectfully while he stays, but I shall not be sorry when the time comes to bid him good-by."
And that time was not far distant. James often complained to his mother that Frank was a "low-minded, mean fellow," and urged an immediate departure. His mother always yielded to his requests, or ratherdemands, no matter how unreasonable they might be; and they had scarcely made a visit of a week, when they announced their intention of leaving Lawrence by the "next boat."
On the day previous to their departure, Mrs. Nelson had occasion to send Frank to the village for some groceries, and, as a favorable wind was blowing, he decided to go in his boat. But, before starting, he managed to slip away from James long enough to write a few lines to Archie, urging him to come immediately.
Frank intended to start off without James's knowledge; but the uneasy fellow was always on the look-out, and, seeing his cousin going rapidly down the walk, with a basket on each arm, and his dog—which, like his master, had not much affection for James—he shouted,
"Hallo, old beeswax, where are you bound for?"
"For the village," answered Frank.
"Are you going to take the tow-path?"
"The tow-path! I don't know what you mean."
"Are you going to ride shanks' horses?"
"I don't understand that, either."
"Oh, you are a bass-wood man, indeed," said James, with a taunting laugh. "Are you going towalk? Do you think you can comprehend me now?"
"Yes," answered Frank, "I can understand you when you talk English. No, I am not going to walk."
"Then I'll go with you, if you will leave that dog at home."
"I don't see what objections you can have to his company. He always goes with me."
"I suppose you think more of him than you do of your relations; but I'm going with you, at any rate."
And he quickened his pace to overtake Frank.
While his cousin was hoisting the sails, James deliberately seated himself in the stern of the boat, and took hold of the tiller.
"Do you understand managing a sail-boat?" inquired Frank, as he stood ready to cast off the painter.
"If any one else had asked me that question," answered James, with an air of injured dignity, "I should have considered it an insult. Of course Ido."
"All right, then," said Frank, as he pushed the boat from the wharf. "Go ahead. We shall be obliged to tack a good many times, going down but we can sail back like a book, and—"
"Oh, you teach your grandmother, will you?" interrupted James. "I've sailed more boats than you ever saw."
Frank, at first, did not doubt the truth of this assertion, for James lived in a seaport town, and had had ample opportunity to learn how to manage a yacht; but they had not made twenty feet from the wharf, when he made up his mind that his cousin had never before attempted to act as skipper.
Instead of keeping as close as possible to the wind, as he should have done, he turned the boat's head first one way and then another, and, of course, made no headway at all.
"I never saw such a tub as this," said James, at length; "I can't make her mind her helm."
Just at this moment a strong gust of wind filled the sails, and, as James was not seaman enough to "luff" or "let go the sheet," the Speedwell same very near capsizing. As she righted, the wind again filled the sails, and the boat was driven with great speed toward the shore. Frank had barely time to pull up the center-board before her bows ran high upon the bank, and the sheet was roughly jerked from James's hand, and flapped loudly against the mast.
"There," said Frank, turning to his cousin, who sat, pale with terror, "I guess it's a long time since you attempted to sail a boat; you seem to have forgotten how, I tell you," he continued as he noticed James's trepidation, "if I hadn't pulled up that center-board just as I did, we should have been obliged to swim for it."
"I can't swim," said James, in a weak voice.
"Then you would have been in a fix," said Frank. "Now, let me see if I can have any better luck."
James very willingly seated himself on one of the middle thwarts, and Frank pushed the boat from the shore, and took hold of the tiller, and, under his skillful management, the Speedwell flew through the water like a duck.
James soon got over his fright, and his uneasy nature would not allow him to remain long inactive, and, as he could find nothing else to do, he commenced to rock the boat from one side to the other, and, as she was "heeling" considerably, under the weight of her heavy canvas, the water began to pour in over her side. Although the speed of the boat was greatly diminished, Frank, for some time, made no complaint, hoping that his cousin would soon grow tired of the sport. But James did not seem inclined to cease, and Frank, at length, began to remonstrate.
He reminded James that it would not require much to capsize the boat, and, as the creek was very deep, and as he (James) had said he could not swim, he might be a "gone sucker."
This, at first, had the effect of making James more careful, but he soon commenced again as bad as ever.
Brave was seated in his usual place, and directly behind James. He seemed to dislike the rocking of the boat as much as his master, but he bore it very patiently for awhile, thinking, no doubt, that the best way to deal with James was to "let him severely alone." But the rocking increased, and Brave began to slide from one side of the boat to the other. This was enough to upset his patience; and, encouraged, perhaps, by some sly glances from Frank, he sprang up, and, placing a paw on each shoulder of his tormentor, barked fiercely, close to his ear.
James screamed loudly; and Brave, evidently thinking he had punished him enough, returned to his seat.
"Let me ashore," shouted James; "I shan't stay in here any longer."
Frank gladly complied, and, the moment the Speedwell's bows touched the bank, James sprang out.
"I wouldn't risk my life in that tub again for any money," he shouted; "you may bet on that, old beeswax."
Frank made no reply, but pushed the boat from the shore again as soon as possible.
James now felt safe; and, gathering up a handful of stones, determined to wreak his vengeance on Brave. The sensible Newfoundlander, at first, paid no attention to this cowardly assault; but the stones whizzed by in unpleasant proximity, now and then striking the sail or the side of the boat, and he began to manifest his displeasure, by showing his teeth and growling savagely.
Frank stood it as long as possible, knowing that the best plan was to remain silent; but James continued to follow the boat, and the stones struck all around the object of his vengeance.
"I wish you wouldn't do that," said Frank, at length.
"You do, eh?" said James. "How are you going to hinder it? But perhaps you would rather have me throw at you."
And, picking up a large stone, he hurled it at his cousin with great force. It fell into the creek, close to the boat, and splashed the water all over Frank.
This seemed to enrage Brave more than ever, and he sprang into the water, and swam toward the shore, and no amount of scolding on Frank's part could induce him to return. James, fearing that he was about to be punished in a way he had not thought of, turned and took to his heels.
At this moment a loud shout was heard, and several boys sprang over the fence into the road, and James was speedily overtaken and surrounded. They were a ragged, hard-looking set of fellows, and Frank knew that they were the Hillers; besides, he recognized the foremost of them as Lee Powell. They had their fishing-rods on their shoulders, and each boy carried in his hand a long string of trout.
"Look'e here, you spindle-shanked dandy," said Lee, striding up and laying hold of James's collar with no friendly hand, "does yer know who yer was a heavin' rocks at? Shall we punch him for yer?" he added, turning to Frank.
"No," answered Frank; "let him go; he's my cousin."
Lee accordingly released him, and James said, in a scarcely audible voice,
"I was only in fun."
"Oh, only playin', was yer?" said Lee; "that alters the case 'tirely—don't it, Pete?"
The boy appealed to nodded his assent, and Lee continued,
"We thought yer was in blood arnest. If yerhadbeen, we wouldn't a left a grease-spot of yer—would we, Pete?"
"Mighty cl'ar of us," answered Pete.
As soon as James found himself at liberty, he started toward home at full speed, hardly daring to look behind him. Brave had by this time gained the shore, and was about to start in pursuit, but a few sharp words from Frank restrained him.
"Whar are yer goin'?" inquired Lee, walking carelessly down the bank.
"I'm going to the village," answered Frank.
"Will yer give a feller a ride?"
"Certainly. Jump in."
The Hillers accordingly clambered into the boat, and, in a few moments, they reached the wharf, at the back of the post-office.
Lee and his companions immediately sprang out, and walked off, without saying a word; and Frank, after fastening his boat to the wharf, began to pull down the sails, when he discovered that the Hillers had left two large strings of trout behind them.
Hastily catching them up, he ran around the corner of the post-office, and saw Lee and his followers, some distance up the road.
"Hallo!" he shouted, at the top of his lungs; "Lee Powell!"
But they paid no attention to him.
"I know they heard me," said Frank.
And he shouted again, but with no better success.
At length, one of the village boys, who was coming across the fields, with a basket of strawberries on his arm, shouted to the Hillers, and, when he had gained their attention, pointed toward Frank,
"See here!" Frank shouted, as he held up the fish; "you have forgotten these."
"No, I guess not," shouted Lee, in reply. "We Hillers don't forget favors as easy as all that comes to. Ye're welcome to 'em."
And he and his companions walked rapidly off.
A few days after the events related in the preceding chapter transpired, Frank, with one or two companions, was standing in the post-office, waiting for the opening of the mail. The steamer had just landed, and the passengers which she had brought were slowly walking toward the hotel, where they intended to take dinner. At length, a village hack came rapidly down the road leading from the wharf, and, when it came opposite the post-office, a head was suddenly thrust out at the window, the driver reined in his horses, the door flew open, and Archie Winters sprang out.
We shall not attempt to describe the meeting of the cousins, nor the joy that prevailed among the village boys at the arrival of their city friend.
Archie had not written that it was his intention to come so soon, and his sudden appearance among them took them completely by surprise.
After a few moments' conversation, Frank and Archie got into the carriage, and, in a short time, were set down at the door of Mrs. Nelson's house.
Frank's mother and sister expressed much joy at Archie's arrival, and, after the excitement of meeting was over, they inquired after his parents.
"When are they coming?" asked Frank.
"They intended to come in the fall," answered Archie, "but father has more business on his hands than he expected, and they may not be here before the holidays; but I couldn't wait."
"I'm glad you didn't," said Frank. "You are not going home before spring, are you?"
"No," said Archie, "I'm going to stay as long as you will keep me."
Frank was overjoyed at this, and, if he had not been in the house, he would have given, as he said, "a yell that would have done credit to an Indian."
But, before going further, we must say a word about Archie's companions—we mean his dogs. One of them, that answered to the name of Sport, was as fine a fox-hound as one would wish to see. He was a large, tan-colored animal, very fleet and courageous, and was well acquainted with all the tricks of his favorite game, and the boys often boasted that "Sport had never lost a fox in his life." The black fox, which had held possession of Reynard's Island so long, was captured by Frank and his cousin, with the assistance of Sport, after a chase of three hours. Lightfoot—for that was the name of the other—was an English grayhound. He stood full three feet high at the shoulders, and his speed was tremendous. He was young, however, and knew nothing about hunting; but he had been taught to "fetch and carry," and, as he learned very readily, the boys expected plenty of sport in training him.
After supper, Archie's trunk was carried into the "study," and the boys busied themselves in taking out its contents. The clothing was all packed away in the bureau; and then came Archie's "sporting cabinet," as he called it—a fine double-barreled shot-gun, which was hung upon the frame at the foot of the bed; a quantity of ammunition, a small hatchet, powder-flasks, shot bags, and a number of other things, which were stowed away in safe places.
At length Archie drew out two fish-poles, neatly stowed away in strong bags, and one of them proved to be the one about which Archie had written. This was placed away in one corner, and Frank promised to mend it immediately.
"See here," said Archie, as he drew out two queer-looking implements; "I have been acting on the suggestion of Uncle Joe Lewis."
"What are they?" inquired Frank.
One of them was a thin rod of steel, about three feet in length, very pointed and sharp at the end the other looked very much like a fish-spear, only the "tines" were smaller and sharper.
"They are spears," said Archie, in answer to Frank's question.
"So I see; but what use can you put them to?"
"This," said Archie, taking up the rod of steel, "is a mink-spear. Last winter we lost a good many minks, when, if we had had an instrument like this, we could have secured them easily enough. You know that sometimes you get a mink into a place where you can see him, but, if you go to work to chop a hole large enough to get a stick in to kill him, he will jump out before you know what you are about. You will remember a little incident of this kind that happened last winter—that day we had such good luck. We were following a mink up the creek on the ice, when Brave suddenly stopped before a hollow stub, and stuck his nose into a hole, and acted as if there was a mink in there; and, you know, we didn't believe there was, but we thought we could stop and see. So we cut a hole in the stub, and, sure enough, there was a mink, and, as good luck would have it, we had cut the hole close to the place where he was, and we thought we had him sure; and, while Harry Butler went to cut a stick to kill him with, I chopped the hole a little larger, so that we could see him plainer, when, all of a sudden, out popped the mink, and, before we could say 'scat,' it was under the ice."
"Yes," said Frank, "I remember it very well; and, I guess, there were some mad boys around that place, somewhere."
"Yes," said Archie, "I was provoked because it was all my fault that we lost him. If we had had this spear, we could have killed him easy enough. We wouldn't be obliged to cut a hole larger than an inch square, and no mink I ever saw could get through that. And this," he continued, taking up the other instrument, "is a muskrat-spear. The way to proceed is this: Go to a muskrat's house, and, with an ax, cut a chunk out of the top, directly over where they sleep."
"And, by the time you get that done," said Frank, with a laugh, "the muskrats will be out of your way."
"I know that; they will undoubtedly start off the first blow you strike, and swim to some breathing-hole; but in a quarter of an hour they will be sure to return. While they are gone, you will have plenty of time to cut the chunk, and, after taking it out, place it carefully back, in such a manner that it can be removed instantly; then, if there are any other houses near, serve them in the same way. Then, in half an hour or so, take your spear and go to the houses, making as little noise at possible, and let your companion lift out the chunk suddenly, and you be ready to strike. Father says he has seen Uncle Joe Lewis catch half a dozen in one house, in this way, very frequently. He always spears the one nearest the passage that leads from the house down into the water, and this will prevent the others from escaping."
"I don't much like the idea," said Frank.
"Neither do I," said Archie. "It will do well enough for those who make their living by hunting; but, if I want to hunt muskrats, I would rather wait until the ice breaks up, in spring; I can then shoot them quite fast enough to suit me, and the sport is more exciting."
One morning, about a week after Archie's arrival, they arose, as usual, very early, and, while they were dressing, Frank drew aside the curtain, and looked out.
"I say, Archie," he exclaimed, "you've got your wish; it's a first-rate morning to go trout-fishing."
Archie had been waiting impatiently for a cloudy day; he was very fond of trout-fishing, and he readily agreed to his cousin's proposal to "take a trip to Dungeon Brook," and they commenced pulling on their "hunting and fishing rig," as they called it, which consisted of a pair of stout pantaloons that would resist water and dirt to the last extremity, heavy boots reaching above their knees, and a blue flannel shirt.
While Archie was getting their fishing-tackle ready, Frank busied himself in placing on the table in the kitchen such eatables as he could lay his hands on, for he and his cousin were the only ones up.
Their breakfast was eaten in a hurry; and, after drawing on their India-rubber coats—for Frank said it would rain before they returned—they slung on their fish-baskets, and took their trout-poles in their hands, and started out.
Dungeon Brook lay about five miles distant, through the woods. It was a long tramp, over fallen logs and through thick bushes; but it was famous for its large trout, and the boys knew they would be well repaid for their trouble.
In about two hours they arrived at their destination; and, after partaking of a lunch, which Frank had brought, they rigged their "flies," and Archie went up the brook a little distance, to try a place known among the boys as the "old trout-hole," while Frank dropped his hook down close to a large log that lay across the stream, near the place where he was standing. The bait sank slowly toward the bottom, when, suddenly, there was a tremendous jerk, and the line whizzed through the water with a force that bent the tough, elastic pole like a "reed shaken with the wind." Frank was a skillful fisherman, and, after a few moments' maneuvering, a trout weighing between three and four pounds lay floundering on the bank.
Archie soon came up, having been a little more successful, as two good-sized fish were struggling in his basket.
They walked slowly down the brook, stopping now and then to try some favorite spot, and, about three o'clock in the afternoon, they reached the place where the brook emptied into Glen's Creek, and were about two miles from home. They had been remarkably successful; their baskets were filled, and they had several "sockdologers" strung on a branch, which they carried in their hands.
After dropping their hooks for a few moments among the perch, at the mouth of the brook, they unjointed their poles, and started toward home, well satisfied with their day's work.
The next day, as Frank and Archie were on their way to the village, on foot—the wind being contrary, they could not sail—they met George and Harry, who had started to pay them a visit.
"Hallo, boys!" exclaimed the former, as soon as they came within speaking distance, "we've got news for you."
"And some that you will not like to hear, Frank," said Harry, with a laugh.
"What is it?" inquired Archie.
"Why, you know, Charley Morgan, some time since, sent to New York for a couple of sail-boats, a sloop and schooner. They arrived yesterday, and he thinks they are something great, and says the Speedwell is nowhere."
"Yes," chimed in Harry, "he said, when those boats came, he would show us 'country chaps' some sailing that would make us open our eyes; but, come to find out, they are perfect tubs. I saw the sloop coming up the creek, and she made poor headway. The Alert can beat her all hollow, with only the foresail hoisted."
During the conversation the boys had been walking toward the village, and, in a few moments, they reached the dock behind the post-office, where the two new boats lay. One of them was a short, "dumpy," sloop-rigged boat, with no deck or center-board, and the other was a beautifully-modeled schooner.
"What do you think of them?" inquired Harry, after they had regarded them several moments.
"Well," answered Archie, "I have seen a good many boats like these in New York, but I don't think they will do much here. That schooner may show some fine sailing qualities, but that sloop will prove to be the slowest boat about the village; she is altogether too short. Take it where the waves are long and regular, and she will do well enough but here in the river, where the waves are all chopped up, she can't accomplish much."
"That's your private opinion, expressed here in this public manner, is it?" said a sneering voice. "You have made a fine show of your ignorance."
The boys turned, and saw Charles Morgan and several of the Rangers standing close by.
"If I didn't know more about yachts than that," continued Charles, "I'd go home and soak my head."
This remark was greeted by the Rangers with a loud laugh; and Archie, who, like Frank, was a very peaceable fellow, said,
"Every one to his own way of thinking, you know."
"Certainly," answered Charles; "but, if I was as much of a blockhead as you are, I'd be careful to keep my thoughts to myself."
Archie did not answer, for he knew it would only add fuel to the fire; for Charles's actions indicated that he was bent on getting up a quarrel. He had determined to make another attempt to "settle accounts" between himself and Frank.
"I'll bet you fifty dollars," said Charles, "that there are not half a dozen boats about the village that can beat that sloop."
"I'm not in the habit of betting," answered Archie; "but, if you will find a boat about the village thatcan'tbeat her, I'll eat your sloop."
"You are green, indeed," said Charles. "Now, what do you suppose that sloop cost me?"
"Well," answered Archie, thrusting his hands deep into his pockets, "I think ten dollars would foot the bill."
Archie said this in so comical a manner that Frank and the others could not refrain from laughing outright.
Charles was angry in an instant, and, quick as thought, he sprang forward and seized Archie. But he soon discovered that he had undertaken more than he could accomplish; for his antagonist, though considerably smaller than himself, was possessed of enormous strength, and was as active as a cat, and he glided like an eel from Charles's grasp, and, seizing him by both wrists, held him fast. After a few desperate, but ineffectual, attempts to free himself, Charles shouted to the Rangers, who had been bustling about in a state of considerable excitement, but very prudently keeping in the background,
"Help, help, you cowards!"
But nothing could induce them to attempt the rescue.
At this moment a boat, which had entered the creek unnoticed by the boys, drew up to the dock, and a strong, cheery voice, called out,
"Hang on to him, little fellow—hang on to him. We've got a few little matters to settle up."
And Leo Powell came running toward them, with half a dozen of his ragged followers close at his heels.
"Oh, let me go," cried Charles, turning very pale, and writhing and twisting in the strong grasp that held him; "I'll be civil to you after this, only don't let them get hold of me; they will half kill me."
Archie accordingly released his captive, but the Hillers were so close to him that Charles dare not run, and he remained close to Frank for protection, while the rest of the Rangers beat a precipitate retreat.
"Here, Pete, hold my coat," said Lee, tossing his tattered garment to one of his companions; "I'll show this Cap'n Regulator that some folks are as good as others."
And he advanced toward Charles, and commenced rolling up his sleeves.
"No, Lee," said Frank, placing himself before the frightened Ranger, "you mustn't touch him."
"Mustn't touch him!" repeated Lee, in surprise. "Why, wasn't he jest tryin' to wallop your friend here?"
"Oh, he's able to defend himself," answered Frank.
"Then he's all right. But I haven't paid for trying to Regulate me, that night."
"He didn't do it, did he?" inquired Frank.
"No, 'cause you fellows wouldn't let him."
"Then, we don't want you to whip him now."
"Wal, if you say so, I won't; but he oughter be larnt better manners—hadn't he, Pete?"
"'Course," was Pete's laconic answer.
"Now, Charley," said Archie, "you may take yourself off as soon as you wish; they will not hurt you."
"Not this time," said Lee, shaking his hard fist in Charles's face; "but we may come acrost you some time when you hasn't nobody to stand up for you; then you had better look out—hadn't he, Pete?"
"Hadn't he, though!" was the answer.
Charles did not need any urging, and he was quickly out of sight.
"I'd like to see you jest a minit, Frank," said Lee, as the former was about to move away.
Frank drew off on one side, and the Hiller continued,
"I promised I'd allers be a friend to you fellers that stood up for me that night, and I want to let you see that I haven't forgot my promise. I know that I can't do much for you, but I jest want to show you that I allers remember favors."
Here he turned, and made a motion to one of his companions, who darted off to the boat, and soon returned, bringing a young otter in his arms.
"I allers heerd," continued Lee, as his companion came up, "that you have a reg'lar hankerin' arter ketchin' and tamin' wild varmints. Now, we want you to take this as a present from us. I know it ain't much, but, arter all, a young otter is a thing a feller can't ketch every day. Will you take it?"
"Certainly," answered Frank, as he took the little animal in his arms. "I have long wished for an otter, and I thank—"
"Hold on there," interrupted Lee. "Keep your thanks for them as needs them, or likes to hear 'em. We Hillers have got feelings as well as any body. It's our way of bringin' up that makes us so bad. Now, good-by; and, if you ever want any thing, jest call on Lee Powell."
And he and his companions walked rapidly toward their boat, and soon disappeared.