FOOTNOTE:[A]The editor of "Forest and Stream" has prepared a work for amateurs, called "Canoe and Boat Building," which may be obtained of the publishers of that valuable paper, or at the bookstores.
[A]The editor of "Forest and Stream" has prepared a work for amateurs, called "Canoe and Boat Building," which may be obtained of the publishers of that valuable paper, or at the bookstores.
[A]The editor of "Forest and Stream" has prepared a work for amateurs, called "Canoe and Boat Building," which may be obtained of the publishers of that valuable paper, or at the bookstores.
The strange craft appeared to be modelled after the catamaran, though the builder thereof had never seen one. It consisted of two logs a foot in diameter and ten feet long, which were placed three feet apart. In the middle of the supports two boards were nailed on the sticks, so that the thing looked more like the letter H than it did like a catamaran.
On the cross-boards was an old window-glass box; and on the box was seated Tom Topover. He was the naval architect of the structure which bore him, and the craft was not at all creditable to his ingenuity. If he had nailed the cross-boards across the ends of the logs, there would have been more stability to the affair, though in that case it would have been stigmatized as a raft.
In his hand Tom held a rude paddle with which he was trying to control the movements of the aquatic chariot. It had no propelling power, andfloated with the current down the creek. A bend of the stream threw the force of the water against Hornet Point, and Tom was trying to keep it from going against the rocks. He did not succeed at all, and one of the logs, striking the bank, twisted the structure entirely out of shape.
The two logs came together, the nails which held the cross-pieces twisting off with the slight shock. Paul saw that Tom was in peril, and he rushed into the house to get his oars, which he kept in his chamber, in the attic, for he was afraid that some of the hard-looking boys of the Topover herd might steal his boat. He had heard of Tom before, but he had never seen him, and he did not know that the fellow on the queer craft was he.
Tom Topover dropped from the box down upon the log, allowing his seat to fall into the water. With the paddle in his hand he threw around the end of the affair, till it was within reach of Paul's flatboat. Reaching out, he hauled it in, and jumped into it. The logs floated off with the current of the little lake.
"You are there, are you?" said Paul, as he returned with the oars.
"Yes I am. How are you, Paul Bristol?" replied Tom, with a grin from ear to ear.
"Well, I thank you; how are you?" added Paul. "I thought you were booked for a bath, and I went in for my oars."
"That's right, and you are a good fellow. They say you are a Bristol brick."
"Perhaps I am, but I don't happen to know you, and can't say what sort of a brick you may be," replied Paul.
"I'm a perfect brick. Gi' me them oars and I'll pick up them logs," continued Tom, extending his hand to receive them.
"I'll help you do it," replied Paul, taking the painter and hauling in the boat.
"What's your name?"
"Jack Sheppard," replied Tom, with a fresh grin.
"Have you got a rope, Jack Sheppard?"
"Never mind the logs; they don't belong to me, and I don't care for 'em. Can't you lend me this boat a little spell? I want to git some saxifax over there for my mother."
"I can't spare her now; I have to go over to Westport after my sister," answered Paul.
"Be you, though? I guess I'll go over with you," said Tom, with refreshing confidence.
"I thought you were going to get somesassafras for your mother," added Paul, who had by this time come to the conclusion that his visitor was as queer as the craft upon which he had come.
"I guess I'll git it another time. I want to go over to Westport to see a feller I know there."
"But I can't bring you back, for my sister is coming with me, and the boat won't carry more than two," answered Paul, supposing this would end the matter.
"All right; I will stay with the feller I know all night," replied the accommodating stranger. "I'll help you row the boat over."
Paul was quite willing to have the queer fellow go with him, even if he had to row all the way himself, for the flatboat worked better with two in her than with one. Without a passenger she was too deep in the water forward, and dug her nose into the wave. He had not the least idea who his visitor was, but did not believe he had given his right name. If he had known him, he would have given him the cold shoulder at once.
"I am not ready to go yet; I have to fix up the boat a little," continued Paul, as he laid the oars on the beach.
"How long before you can go? I don't want to wait all day, Bristol Brick," added Tom.
"You needn't wait one minute if you don't wish to," replied Paul, who wondered in what school of politeness his involuntary companion had been brought up. "I am going to wash out the boat and let her dry a little before I go."
"What's the use of washing her out? She is clean enough for any feller to eat his dinner in," growled Tom.
"Perhaps she is if the fellow's a pig," said Paul, as he hauled the boat up on the beach, nearly upsetting the Topover in the act.
"Mind out! What are you doing? Do you mean to spill me into the drink?" demanded the saucy visitor.
"If you don't get out of the boat, you will be likely to get a ducking," added Paul, as he took up a pail and a broom he had brought from the house before.
Tom looked at the owner of the Dragon; in fact, he eyed him from head to foot. Tom was a pugilist, or he thought he was. He was a fighting character, and possibly he was thinking whether he could whip the son of toil, whose story had been told all over Genverres as well as on the other side of the lake.
The Chesterfields had patronized andencouraged Tom Topover the season before, because they believed that he and his vicious companions could assist them in their encounters with the Beech Hillers.
During the present season the students of the two schools had not come in collision, for the reason that Colonel Buckmill had forbidden his pupils to meddle with their old enemies. Since the removal of the cottage from Sandy Point the Chesterfield barges had been down to Porter's Bay, where Tom had met Walker Billcord. The Topover and his gang had fully discussed the attempt to capture Paul Bristol, and were familiar with all the particulars.
Tom wished the magnate had offeredhimtwenty-five dollars for capturing the fellow, and handing him over to the major at Sandy Point. This he said to Walk. He would be willing to do the job for ten dollars. He didn't think it was a great undertaking.
"You had better try it on, then," added Walk, morosely, for he hated Paul not a particle less than when the son of toil had laid him out on the point. "He will knock you out every time, without half trying."
"I should like to see the feller that can do that!" exclaimed Tom, clenching his dirty fists.
"Haven't you seen Paul Bristol?" asked Walk.
"I saw him on the other side of the pond; I never see him close to. But I ain't afear'd on him. I'll bet I can lick him so he won't know whether it's Sunday or Thanksgiving," blustered Tom. "Will your old man give a feller anything now for ketchin' him?" inquired Tom, looking anxiously into the face of Walk.
"He don't make any offers for him now," added the son cautiously. "He don't want to get into any more rows about the fellow."
"Oh, he don't?" muttered Tom, evidently greatly disappointed. "If your old man will only do the handsome thing, I'll scrape this Bristol Brick till there ain't nothin' left on him."
Walk Billcord looked at the ugly customer at his side, and his thirst for vengeance stirred all the bad blood in his veins. He had plenty of spending money, and he could even afford to give ten dollars himself for satisfactory vengeance. Nim Splugger and Kidd Digfield, as rough specimens as the Topover himself, would assist Tom. But Walk's father had just been discharged from confinement, and there was great risk in making the trade suggested.
"You would be prosecuted if you did anything,"suggested Walk. "Then it would come out that I had a hand in the business."
"Not a bit on 't!" exclaimed Tom, very positively. "Jest as quick as I git the ten dollars, nobody won't see nothin' more of me within a hund'ed miles of Lake Champlain."
"What do you mean by that, Tom?" asked Walk curiously.
"I'm go'n to run away. My old man is so hard on me that I can't stand it no longer. I'm go'n' to New York to ship in a pirate vessel. I shan't be caught nohow."
"I would give ten dollars quick enough to see Paul tied to a tree and lathered with a cowhide for twenty minutes or half an hour; but I don't make any offers, and I won't hire any fellow to do such a thing," added Walk, as he considered the appalling risk.
"I cal'late I know jest what you mean, and you don't make me no offers. You don't promise to give me no money," protested Tom.
"What are you jawing about, Walk?" asked Ham Jackson, coming up at this moment.
"Tom Topover offers to catch Paul Bristol, and give him a lathering that will keep him on his bed a month, for ten dollars; but I won't do anythingof the sort. I don't offer him a cent. I won't give him a penny if he kills the rascal," said Walk, with as much earnestness as though he meant every word he said.
"That's jest how it is. He won't give me nothin', and says he won't," added Tom.
"If you choose to larrup him on your own account, it is none of my business," continued Walk.
"Of course it isn't," Ham Jackson chimed in. "I should like to pay that fellow off for the few cracks he gave me, but they go to law on this side, and it isn't safe."
"Of course I can lick him if I want to, and 't ain't nobody's business," added Tom, who thought he was very cunning. "I guess I understand you, and you understand me. About next Saturday night at Sandy Point, say."
The coxswain's call summoned them to the boat, and they parted from Tom Topover. The latter believed he had made a square bargain with Walk Billcord, and ten dollars would take him to New York and pay his way till he could ship in a "pirate vessel." He meant a pilot-boat, for he had heard some one talking about one of these brisk little schooners a few days before.
Since that interview Tom had watched the schoolgrounds all the time. Paul lived on the point, and he could catch him alone there some evening. He had built the queer craft for use in his great enterprise. He had seen the Sylph go down the river in the morning, and he intended to put his scheme in operation that evening. Paul often sat on the rocks about dark, and the opportunity would not be wanting.
While he was nailing the logs together on the other side of the creek, a little way up, he saw Paul in his flatboat. Then it seemed to him that the son of toil was as good as bagged. He was absolutely sure he could handle him, in spite of the experience of the kid-glove chaps on the other side. But Tom was cunning in his own estimation. Paul was going to Westport, and it was safer to do the job near Sandy Point than on the school premises.
He could hardly help bullying, but he refrained as soon as he thought what he was doing; and half an hour later he embarked in the flatboat with his victim.
That cunning Tom Topover was actually behaving himself in something like a civilized manner, in his desire not to alarm his victim. Just now he was engaged in a strategetic enterprise, and found it necessary to display only the fur side of his nature, though even that was very like the bristles of a pig. He did his best, which was not saying much, to keep on the right side of his intended victim. But Paul was a good-natured fellow, and it was an easy matter to conciliate him.
The son of toil rowed down the river, and crossing the shoal water of Field's Bay, took a straight course for his destination. Tom sat at the stern, and did not seem to be as much inclined to talk as he had been immediately after the wreck of the queer craft. In fact, he was turning over in his mind sundry cunning propositions, to accomplish the purpose for which he had embarked in the present venture.
It was a good six-mile pull to Westport, but Paul was used to the Dragon, and she went ahead without much effort on his part. The lake was as smooth as glass, and the rower wondered that it could ever be as rough as it had been the day the Silver Moon was so nearly wrecked. Though he was as tough as an oak knot, and had not yet become tired, he thought it was about time for the stranger in the stern to begin to do his share of the pulling, for the boat was now about half way to Westport. Sandy Point was half a mile ahead, and Paul mentioned the fact as a hint that his companion had better take the oars.
"They say you used to live there, Bristol Brick," said Tom in reply, and without taking the hint, which was altogether too indefinite for one with a skin so thick and dirty as the bruiser had.
"I lived there two years," replied Paul indifferently.
"Sho'! You don't say so!" exclaimed Tom, albeit there was nothing very astonishing in the statement. "They say the Beech Hill fellers kerried the house you lived in over to Hornet P'int one night, and left everything jest as though there never hadn't been no house there."
"That's all very true. Major Billcord warnedmy mother to move the cottage within twenty-four hours, and told her he should pitch it into the lake if she didn't do it," added Paul; and the stranger seemed to be the only person in Addison County who didn't know all the particulars of the affair.
"I guess the major was a little struck up when he found it had scooted," said Tom, with a cheerful grin, as he looked ahead at the point where he had suggested a meeting of the oarsman with Walk Billcord on the evening of that day.
"He was very much astonished, and so were the students of the institute, to whom he had promised a pile of fun in tipping the cottage and all that it contained into the lake."
"I don't see how the Beech Hill fellers could move the house. I don't believe they did it," added Tom, shaking his head.
Paul explained how the job had been done, and assured his companion he had seen the whole work himself. Tom insisted on being incredulous, for just then he believed he was particularly cunning.
"I never went ashore at Sandy Point, Bristol Brick, and I should like to see how the land lays there," suggested Tom, with one of his cheerful grins, exaggerated for the occasion.
"You can see the whole of the shore from here," replied Paul, turning around and pointing out the locality of the cottage.
"But I want to see the place, and 't won't take two minutes for me to run up to where the house was," Tom insisted. "Then I will row the rest of the way over to Westport, and nobody won't git hurt none."
Paul had started more than an hour earlier than he had intended, and would reach his destination before Lily had finished her day's work. Besides, he had a kind of affection for the place where he had lived two years. Just then it flashed upon his mind that he had never visited the hollow tree which had done duty as a safe for the two dollars and the gold rings belonging to his mother.
In the excitement of his last visit to the point at the invitation of the magnate, he had forgotten all about the treasure. His mother had spoken of it often, but Paul had no doubt it was safe in its hiding-place, for the money and rings had been put at a tin box.
His mother had spoken of it, and so had he, at the time of it, but latterly it seemed to have passed out of the memory of all the family. Paul pulled to the shore as soon as the treasure came into hismind, and he wondered that he had not thought of it before. His mother had plenty of money now, and that seemed to be the reason it had been forgotten.
When Paul swung the boat around, and headed it for the point, he took a look down the lake. Over in the direction of Button Bay he saw a steam yacht. There were several such craft on the lake, though all or nearly all of them were kept farther down. The yacht looked exactly like the Sylph, and he had no doubt it was she.
"I wonder what the Sylph is doing over there," said he, continuing to pull for the beach before him. "She went down to Port Henry towing the gundalow with a cargo of stone."
"I guess the fellers are taking a little turn in her while the men are unloadin' the stone," suggested Tom, who was not at all pleased to find the Beech Hill steamer in this part of the lake.
"She is headed this way, and perhaps she is going back to Beech Hill after something that was forgotten," added Paul, as the Dragon struck the sand on the beach.
Paul took the painter in his hand and stepped ashore. He paused a moment to take another look at the Sylph. She was coming up from ButtonBay on the east shore of the lake, and this course would carry her within a mile of Sandy Point. It was now four o'clock in the afternoon, and the steamer, with her heavy tow, must have reached Port Henry by eleven at the latest. If anything had been forgotten, they must have found it out earlier in the day.
While he was looking at the steam yacht and wondering what she was doing in this part of the lake without her tow, she suddenly changed her course and stood over in the direction of Westport. This settled it that nothing had been forgotten, for she was not going back to Beech Hill. She was sailing very fast, and seemed to be shaken by the effort of her engine. They were certainly driving her at a very unusual speed.
Tom Topover was walking about the point, apparently engaged in a very minute inspection of the locality. Paul saw him looking at the former site of the cottage, and then he disappeared in the woods. The owner of the Dragon drew his boat a little farther up on the beach, but he continued to watch the movements of the steamer; and he was so absorbed in the effort to fathom her strange behavior that he was in danger of again forgetting the treasure in the tin box.
From his position on the point Paul could see the steamboat wharf at Westport, or, rather, he could see where it was, for it was over two miles distant. But the steam yacht did not go to it; and for a short time she disappeared from his view behind the trees on the lower arm of the point. But he knew she must come in sight again soon, for there was no landing-place above the wharf, and the water was shoal.
In a few minutes she did reappear, and now she was close inshore, following the southern trend of the bay. She had reduced her speed somewhat, but she was still sailing faster than her standard rate. Paul watched her till she reached Barber's Point, behind which she again went out of sight. He could make nothing of her erratic movements, and he was forced to the conclusion that Tom was right, and that the fellows were taking a little turn in her while waiting for the cargo of the gundalow to be discharged, or for the iron shoe for the keel of the Lily.
By this time Tom Topover appeared to have completed his survey of the locality of the cottage, and joined Paul on the beach. The cunning fellow seemed to be somewhat uneasy and excited, though his companion was too much absorbed in the wonder of the steam yacht to notice it.
"Be you about ready to start on?" asked Tom, after he had looked about him for a few minutes. "I guess I've seen the whole thing now."
"I can't make out what the Sylph is doing," said Paul, still perplexed by the problem, though there wasn't the least reason why he should bother his head at all about her strange movements; but, like the average boy of intelligence, he desired to know what everything meant.
"She's only cruising about for the fun on't," grinned Tom. "I guess I don't want to stop no longer."
That cunning reprobate had arranged his plan of operations. In the darkness of the woods he had examined the tarred spun-yarn which filled one of his trousers pockets. He had taken it from a new building on the back road, where it had been used to secure bundles of laths. He had coiled up the single lengths in such a way that they would be ready for use when wanted. With these he intended to bind his victim hand and foot, and then tie him to a sapling, which he had selected for the purpose, in the woods back of the cottage site, where the prisoner could not be seen or heard from the lake.
He had promised to row the Dragon from SandyPoint to Westport; and it was with a purpose that he had proposed to do so. Paul was to sit in the stern, and would have to get into the boat first. Tom would be close behind him, and when he took the first step, he would seize him by the throat, throw him down on the beach, and lie down on him. With the spun-yarn in his pocket he could easily secure his hands behind him. He had picked up a stout stick in the woods, which he dropped carelessly on the shore, where it would be available in case of need.
Tom had no doubt whatever of his ability to carry out this nicely-arranged programme. Paul was a stout fellow, and events at the point and elsewhere proved that he had plenty of pluck, and that he hit hard. But if he took him behind, what could Paul do? What could any fellow do, under such unfavorable circumstances? The blunder of the six ruffians, in Tom's estimation, was in attacking him in front instead of in the rear.
The cunning bruiser was ready to execute the plan his busy brain had contrived, and he was a little nervous and uneasy, as before noted. He did not take the least interest in the movements of the steamer, though he was rather pleased tofind Paul so much absorbed in anything that kept his mind occupied.
"You git in fust, as I'm go'n to row the rest of the way," said Tom, as he took the oars from the boat, the blades of which were projecting over the bow.
"I am not quite ready to go yet; I have to go over after something I left in the hollow of a tree," replied Paul, as he turned away from the boat.
"In the holler of a tree!" exclaimed Tom.
"That's what I said," added Paul. "It is a tin box containing a little money and a couple of gold rings. It won't take me long to get them."
"How fur off is it?" asked the bruiser, much interested when he heard there was money in the box, for he was sure to get it.
Paul said it was up in the hollow, and started off.
The brilliant strategy of the bruiser was not affected by the visit of Paul Bristol to the hollow tree. On the contrary, it improved its prospects of success. The intimation that there was even a little money in the tin box was encouraging, for it would add something to the ten dollars he was to receive on account of his blind bargain with Walk Billcord.
As soon as Paul disappeared in the woods, Tom took the boathook from the Dragon, the oars being already in his possession, and hastened off in the direction to which he had carried his previous survey of the locality. He had found a low place beyond the site of the cottage, where a rotten log lay on the ground. Beneath this decayed wood he deposited the oars and boathook. Pulling off enough of the punky wood to cover the articles, he returned to the boat with a rapid step.
He had been absent but a few minutes, andPaul had not yet appeared with the tin box. If the cunning strategist had been asked why he concealed the oars and the boathook, very likely he would have replied that he had done so to prevent the possibility of an escape on the part of his victim. But Tom was a cunning fellow, and this was by no means his object. If he failed to accomplish his purpose in the first onslaught, there is not the slightest doubt that he would have been entirely willing that his intended victim should escape, and even be glad to have him do so, even if he had been left to find his way on foot from the point.
The three implements which constituted the furniture of the Dragon might be dangerous weapons in the hands of a resolute fellow like Paul Bristol. He had secured a club for himself, and picking it up, he was plying it as a cane and plaything, in order to avert any suspicion as to its probable use.
Paul soon returned with the tin box in his hand. It was an old mustard can, and it was not a convenient thing to have in his pocket, and was of no value. He took the rings and money from it, and put them into his pocket, throwing away the can.
"How much money have you got, Bristol Brick?" asked Tom, with his usual grin.
"Only a two-dollar bill, and that belongs to my mother," replied Paul, who did not know his companion, and would not have been afraid of losing the money if he had.
"Ain't you goin' to spend it down to Westport, and treat a feller that helps you row the boat?" asked Tom, with a mighty grin.
"Of course not; I don't spend my mother's money for anything, without her orders to do so," replied Paul.
"What odds does it make?"
"It makes a good deal of odds to me, for I don't spend what don't belong to me. By the big wooden spoon! There comes the Sylph again, and without the gundalow in tow. She is going as though she were running a race too. It looks to me just as though Captain Dory Dornwood had gone crazy, and I shouldn't wonder if Captain Gildrock hauled him over the coals for it."
"Is the cap'n aboard?" inquired Tom.
"No; he went to Burlington this morning in the cars."
"Then he won't know nothin' about it."
"Some one will be sure to tell him; but the officers have to keep a log, and put down the speed every hour. I am afraid Dory will catchit, for that steamer is running fifteen knots an hour. They say she can do it, but the fellows are not allowed to do more than twelve."
"All right; but I guess we can watch her from the boat just as well as we can here," suggested the strategist, placing himself close behind his victim, and bracing up for the effort he was to make.
"If she comes near us, we can hail her, and find out what she is doing, for I should like to know," added Paul, as he stepped down to the beach, in the direction of the bow of the boat; but his eyes were fixed all the time on the steamer, which was certainly going like the Flying Dutchman.
"Jump in, Bristol Brick, and I will take the oars."
Paul had reached the stem of the Dragon by this time, still closely observing the steamer. He was just beginning to wonder if she would not blow up under such a tremendous pressure of steam as she appeared to have on, when the arms of the cunning strategist encircled his neck, and his right knee was applied to the small of his back. He had raised one foot to step into the boat, but he had no chance to bring it down, for he went over backwards on the beach.
The bruiser had the club in his hand when he passed his arm around the neck of his victim. In the suddenness of the attack Tom Topover had it all his own way, as he had intended to have it. As he drew his prisoner back, he threw him over so that he fell on his face, and Tom came down on top of him. He hugged him with all his might. Dropping the stick, he fixed his grip on the throat of Paul, and began to jam down upon him with his knees.
But Paul soon came to a realizing sense of his situation, and he was not at all inclined to submit to the sharp discipline of his companion. He began to struggle with all the energy of desperation. His hands were at liberty, and, reaching down with them, he succeeded in getting hold of the legs of his assailant. He immediately put a stop to the action of the assailant's knees, and then, with a mighty effort, rolled over so that Tom was under him, though Paul was still wrong side up.
With the weight of his victim upon him, Tom could no longer kick or use his knees, and Paul's hands were relieved for other duty. He brought them up and got hold of Tom's hair, getting two fistfuls of it, for the bruiser did not wear a fighting cut just then. He pulled with all his strength,increased by his desperation. At the same time the struggle with the other parts of the body continued, Tom's hair was coming out by the roots, and the intense pain caused him to yield a little of his hold at the prisoner's neck.
Paul felt his advantage, and, seizing the hands of his foe, dragged them from his throat. This enabled him to turn over in part so that he could use his fists. He did not wait for any preliminaries, but rained his blows upon the head of his assailant in the agony of his desperation. Tom could no more stand this treatment than he could have endured the pounding of a trip-hammer. He begged for mercy, and Paul let him up.
Neither of them could speak, and Tom's dirty face was covered with blood. Both were gasping for breath, and an involuntary truce prevailed. Paul had received no blows in the face, though his throat was considerably lacerated by the nails of his cowardly enemy. Tom was now in a position to understand the reason why the six ruffians had been so badly used before they succeeded in making a prisoner of Paul. It seemed to make no difference in the end whether the attack was made in the front or the rear. Possibly, the brilliant strategist was willing to believe that he hadmade a mistake in the quality and quantity of his intended victim.
A couple of minutes were enough to enable the combatants to recover their breath. Neither of them said a word, but Tom suddenly made a spring at Paul, this time with clenched fists. But the latter had been looking for something of this kind, and he easily parried the blows aimed at him, and then upset the bruiser with a heavy blow between the eyes. Paul realized that he could do this sort of thing till the sun went down, but he was tired of it.
Tom lay still for a minute or so after his fall, for his ideas were doubtless greatly confused. Paul looked at him; and as he did so he saw one of the coils of rope-yarn sticking out of his trousers pocket. He seized it at once, and, turning his assailant over, tied his hands behind him, and then secured his arms at the elbows. As Tom came to a realizing sense of his defeat, he began to resist, but the bruiser was about played out, and Paul dragged him to a tree and made him fast.
"You don't fight fair, Bristol Brick," said he, rather feebly, and he made a weak attempt to break from his bonds.
"I don't mean to fight fair with such fellows asyou are," replied Paul, looking with disgust at his prisoner. "I suppose you do, though, and that's the reason you pitched into me when my back was turned. You may call it fair to jump on a fellow's back and pull him down."
"But 't ain't fair for you to tie me afore we have done," groaned Tom. "That's mean, and Tom Topover never lets up on a feller that don't fight fair."
"Oh, then, you are Tom Topover, are you?" exclaimed Paul, looking over his victim from head to foot. "Why didn't you tell me who you were when I asked you?"
"I was afear'd you'd run away if I told you who I was," answered the bruiser, who was likely to be a bully to the end.
"I don't believe I should have run away," added Paul, with a smile on his face. "I don't run away from such carrion as you are."
"You haven't seen the end of this thing yet. I can lick you in fair fight any time," blustered Tom, as he began to regain his strength.
"Will you do it now if I let you loose?" demanded Paul sharply.
"I don't feel very well to-day," replied Tom, after some hesitation. "I ain't in fightin' trimnohow, and that's the reason I got the worst on't so fur."
"What did you pitch into me for if you are not in good condition?" demanded Paul, who was good-natured enough by this time to smile.
"I didn't think you was so much of a feller, and I had to do what I did to-day," muttered Tom.
"Why to-day?" demanded Paul.
"Well, I agreed to do it."
"Whom did you agree with?" continued Paul, picking up the stick the mighty strategist had brought from the woods.
"It don't make no difference," whined Tom, evidently startled when he saw the weapon in the hand of his conqueror.
"Yes, it does make all the difference in the world; and if you don't tell me in two seconds, I will take it out of your hide!" exclaimed the son of toil, demonstrating violently with the stick.
"I didn't agree to do it, but Walk Billcord was to give me ten dollars for the job. He didn't say he would, but we understood one another," answered Tom, in mortal terror.
"That's all I want to know," added Paul, as he walked towards the boat.
He looked into the Dragon, but did not see the oars. He searched all about the beach without being able to find them. While he was thus engaged, the steamer came within a few feet of the shore. He concluded that the absence of the oars was a part of the cunning strategist's plan; and he was about to return to the tree where Tom was tied, when the steamer rang one bell, followed by two. This meant stop and back her.
Paul picked up the stick he had brought to the water side, and, without looking particularly at the Sylph, he pushed off the boat, and then gave it a hard shove with the short pole. The impetus carried the Dragon to the side of the steam yacht, and he sprang on board of her with the painter in his hand.
Paul Bristol was somewhat excited after his tough conflict with the strategetical bruiser. He was not a little startled to find that the Billcords were still trying to punish him for defending his sister from insult. Captain Gildrock was his friend and his mother's friend, and he was unwilling to do anything more with the pestilent bully without his advice and direction. He was confident that the exhibition of the stout stick would induce Tom to tell him where the oars were; but as the steamer was close to the shore, he preferred to take counsel before he acted any further.
At first he forgot that the principal was not on board of the Sylph, but it came to his mind before he reached the bulwarks. But Dory was certainly on board, and he could advise and assist him. Passing the painter over a stanchion, he leaped over the rail. Then it struck him as a littlestrange that he saw none of the large ship's company that had manned her when she left the wharf in Beechwater that morning.
A man who was an entire stranger to him stood on the forecastle, but not a single Beech Hiller was to be seen. He looked up at the windows of the pilot-house, where he expected to see the face of Oscar Chester and the second pilot; but another stranger stood at the wheel.
"Cast off that boat!" called the man at the wheel to the one on the forecastle.
Before Paul could interfere the deck hand had detached the painter from the stanchion and dropped it into the water. At the same moment two bells rang, and the steamer backed away from the point.
"What did you do that for?" demanded Paul of the deck hand.
"I have to obey my orders," replied the man.
The son of toil looked at him and wondered who he was, for he had never seen his face before. He went to the bow and saw the Dragon, fifty feet from him by this time, and the steamer still backing. He had been sure of obtaining good advice and strong support from his friends on board, but he could not even find a person that he knew.
He walked aft, and looked into the engine-room. There was a man there, but he was bending over the machinery, and he did not see his face, but he appeared to be a stranger like all the others he had seen. He continued his walk to the door of the after cabin, but not a single Beech Hiller could he find. It looked to him as though, if the thing had been possible, the Sylph had been captured by an enemy, who were then in full possession of her.
Paul returned to the forecastle, and again looked up at the windows of the pilot-house. The man at the wheel appeared to be talking to some person or persons behind him, who were not in sight. At this moment the engine stopped again, and the steamer was at rest on the smooth water. Paul was confident that the persons in the pilot-house had seen the whole or a portion of the hard battle at Sandy Point, for the tree where he had secured Tom Topover was in plain sight from the lake.
The deck hand seemed to take no notice of him, though he could not help seeing him, and observing all his movements. As the steamer had stopped her propeller, and run close in to the shore, she must be there for a purpose.The last he had seen of her before the bruiser opened the fight, she was running with tremendous speed down the lake. After that she slowed down, and headed for the point, for he had obtained an occasional glimpse of her even in the heat of the struggle with the strategist.
"Is Captain Dory Dornwood on board, sir?" asked Paul, very respectfully, of the deck hand, who had walked forward to look out.
"I don't know him," replied the man shortly, but civilly enough.
"Are none of the Beech Hill fellows on board?"
"I don't know the Beech Hill fellows," answered the man.
Paul was utterly bewildered. He looked up at the pilot-house once more to find a solution of the mystery if he could. The stranger still stood at the wheel, and was still talking with some one not in sight. Just then it occurred to Paul that there was something wanting in the appearance of the pilot-house. In the station bill he belonged on the forecastle of the Sylph, and was more familiar with this part of her than with any other. He studied the situation for some time before he could determine what was wanting to complete the usual appearance of the steamer. At last he was ableto supply the deficiency. On the front and on each side of the pilot house was a sign on which was painted the name of the craft. They were not there; and if the strangers had captured the Sylph they had removed these signs. There was nothing in sight to indicate that the vessel was the Beech Hill steam yacht.
Paul looked around him on the forecastle, and some other familiar objects were missing. Suddenly it flashed into his mind that this was not the Sylph after all; but the absurdity of his making a mistake in the identity of the steamer which he was accustomed to see at the wharf in Beechwater every day, and in which he had made so many trips to Westport and elsewhere, was so apparent to him that he instantly rejected the idea.
To his mind, in spite of the absence of the signs on the pilot-house, and other familiar objects, the steamer was the Sylph. The mystery of her being in possession of other persons than the Beech Hillers seemed to thicken upon him. She had taken position not fifty feet from the water side, and there she lay. Paul wondered what she was waiting for, and why she did not do something. If any person on board was to be landed at the point, it was about time to lowerone of the quarter boats, which hung on davits abaft the engine. But nothing was done, and no one said anything; and Paul was getting desperate.
There was a mystery about the steamer, which, in spite of the good order which prevailed on board of her when her regular ship's company were on duty, presented a very lively aspect. Paul was not patient in the presence of mysteries which concerned him, as in the present instance, for since the setting adrift of the Dragon he was practically a prisoner on board of her. He decided to solve the problem of the strangeness of things on the deck, and for this purpose he went aft to the ladder on the port side which led to the hurricane deck. He was determined to have a pow-wow with the pilot, and to ascertain who were the modest persons that concealed themselves in the back part of his quarters.
He reached the deck on which the pilot-house stood, without impediment, and walked to the door. It was locked, which was not usual on board of the Sylph. He passed on to the side window, where the man at the wheel suddenly confronted him. He had seen this man before, but he had no acquaintance with him.
"Will you be kind enough to tell me what steamer this is?" Paul began, in his efforts to solve the mystery.
"The Undine, of Westport," replied the pilot, for such he undoubtedly was.
"I never heard of her before," added Paul, overwhelmed to find that she was not the Sylph.
"As she came into the lake for the first time this morning, you were not in the way of hearing of her," answered the man, rather stiffly.
"But she looks exactly like the Sylph, which belongs to the Beech Hill Industrial School," said Paul, trying to get a sight of the persons on the sofa of the room.
But the pilot kept himself directly in front of him, and he was unable to gratify his curiosity.
"The builder has sent out at least half a dozen steam yachts of the hundred-feet order which are so near like this one that you could not tell the difference in them," added the pilot in answer to his remark.
"If this is not the Sylph, I have no business on board of her," continued Paul. "I shall be very much obliged to you if you will put me on shore, or pick up my boat for me, though I am very sorry to trouble you."
"You were not invited on board, and you must look out for yourself."
"Why did you cast off the painter of my boat?" asked Paul, not pleased with the situation.
"I obey my orders."
"Who gave the order, if you please?"
"The owner," replied the pilot. "Something was going on ashore there just before we came over here. It looked like a very hard fight between two fellows."
"It was a hard fight," answered Paul.
"And you were one of the fellows in it?"
"I was; and the other fellow is tied to a tree on shore," replied Paul, pointing in the direction of the tree, which he could see from his position on the hurricane deck.
"What was it all about? Speak up a little louder, for I am rather deaf," added the pilot, as he glanced behind him. "Who was the other fellow?" And the last question seemed to be prompted by the person on the sofa.
"It was Tom Topover," answered Paul; and in answer to questions put by the pilot, he told the whole story of his affair that day with the brilliant strategist, from the time he had appeared in the creek on his queer-looking craft.
The pilot occasionally told him to speak louder, and at last he concluded that he was giving the narrative for the benefit of the concealed listeners.
"But what made Tom Topover attack you?" asked the man at the wheel.
"He was hired to do it by Major Billcord's son, Walk Billcord," replied Paul bluntly.
"Do you mean to say that my son hired that rough to attack you?" demanded the magnate of Westport, suddenly rushing to the door of the pilot-house, and throwing it wide open. Close behind him was Walk himself.
"I didn't know you were here!" exclaimed Paul, starting back with astonishment when he saw the major; and he had not had the remotest suspicion that he was the owner of the steam yacht, for the pilot had prevented him from asking who owned the craft.
"No matter if you didn't know it," replied the major angrily. "I asked you a question. Answer it!"
"Tom Topover said he was to get ten dollars from your son for doing the job. He didn't say Mr. Walker agreed to give him the money, but there was an understanding between them to this effect," replied Paul.
"Tom Topover is a liar!" exclaimed Walk.
"He was to do the job to-day; and you seem to be here at Sandy Point to attend to the prisoner if Tom got him," added Paul.
Major Billcord was not in the habit of controlling his wrath, and he made a spring at the son of toil; but Paul beat a hasty retreat, for he dreaded another encounter with the magnate. He went aft and descended to the main deck; but he soon discovered that he was not pursued. He heard two bells in the engine-room, and the Undine began to back. Paul came to a halt under the starboard quarter boat, and devoted himself to an examination of the falls by which it was secured to the davits.
While he was thus engaged, one bell struck in the engine-room, followed by another, and the Undine went ahead. A moment later the jingle bell rattled, and the craft began to go at full speed. Paul heard steps on the hurricane deck above him, and he concluded that the major and Walk were after him. He walked astern to the doors of the main cabin. They were open, and he decided to retreat into this apartment if he was pursued.
"Engineer!" called Major Billcord.
"On deck, sir," replied the man in charge of the engine, as he stepped out of his room.
The sound of the engineer's voice was a familiar one, and it startled the son of toil as much as the sound of an earthquake would at that moment.
"Keep an eye on that boy down on the main deck, and don't let him touch the boats," continued Major Billcord, who suspected the purpose of the object of his hatred. "Don't let him escape on any account, for I shall have a reckoning with him before we part."
This looked like a threat, and Paul realized that he was in the hands of the enemy. In spite of his imprisonment, the magnate intended to punish him for what he had done at the point, and the poor fellow began to be very much discouraged.
"I will see to him," replied the engineer.
The engine of the Undine was working at a moderate speed, and the engineer walked aft to get a view of his prisoner. Paul looked at him as he approached, for the sound of his voice had prepared him for an early meeting. He thought no more of getting away in the boat. He gazed with all his eyes at the man walking towards him.
"Why, father!" exclaimed he, rushing upon him with extended hand.
"Why, Paul, my son! Is it possible that it is you?" cried the engineer, grasping the extended hand. "But come into the engine-room."
Mr. Bristol led the way, still holding his son's hand. They had scarcely entered the apartment before there was a whistle at the speaking-tube.
"Take that boy into the engine-room, and don't let him get away," said the magnate through the tube.
"All right; I have him here," replied the engineer. "What does all this mean, Paul?" asked the astonished father, turning to his son.
Paul related all the events in the family history since the assault upon Lily at the point; and the returned wanderer fully understood the feud between Paul and the magnate. His blood boiled at the insult to his daughter, and the persecution to which his son had been subjected. He had put his hand on the wheel to shut off the steam, when Paul asked him where he had been for two years, and why he had not written to his family.
The engineer did not turn the wheel, for the wanting letters were an imputation upon him. He was not a scholar, but he had written a score of letters and had never had a reply to one of them. Before he left, something had been saidbetween himself and his wife about her going to the home of an uncle in Iowa. He had invited them to visit him and take care of him, for he was a bachelor. He would support them, and they could do work enough to earn their living. They had expected to hear from him every day at the time Peter Bristol left home.
The father had no doubt they would go there, and had directed his letters after the first one to their new home. A few days after his departure for New York, where he hoped to find work, the letter came from the West to Mrs. Bristol, but it brought no hope. The writer had bought a ranch in Texas, had married, and could do nothing for the family of his brother. This clearly explained the miscarriage of the letters.
Peter Bristol had worked as a fireman on a railroad. When he got to New York he found a situation as an oiler on a steamer bound to Havana. In Cuba he soon secured a good situation to run an engine on a plantation. He saved his money, and did his best to find what had become of his family. At last it occurred to him to write to the postmaster of his brother's late residence in Iowa. Nothing was known of his family, his brother had gone to Texas, and a score of letters for his wife had gone to the dead-letter office.
Then he had written to a friend in Westport, and learned that his family were still at Sandy Point, and were very poor. When this last letter came, nearly two years after he had left home, he was filled with sorrow and anxiety. He wrote no more letters, but started for home with all the money he had saved. About the first person he met when he landed in New York was Wheeler, whom he had known as a pilot on Lake Champlain. He had been sent by Major Billcord to take his steamer, just purchased, up to the lake by the way of the Hudson and the canal. He wanted an engineer, and, after a deal of talk, employed Peter Bristol.
Wheeler had his doubts about the competency of Bristol. The magnate wanted a suitable engineer, and would give him good wages. He might object to a man who had been known on the lake as nothing but a boatman. Peter wanted the place, and had been running an engine for two years. Wheeler agreed to do what he could for him with the magnate; but he thought it best for him not to say who he was for the present. Time and the tropical sun had so changed him that he was not likely to recognize him if he was careful.
Peter Bristol had served as engineer on the way up, and Major Billcord and Walk had joined the vessel at Whitehall in the morning. The steamer was on trial, and the major wanted her run at her highest speed a part of the time. The magnate had hardly looked at the engineer, he was so interested in the machinery and the craft, and Bristol had had no trouble in concealing his identity so far. This was the story he told Paul, and repeated to his wife and Lily in the evening.
Paul had looked out at the door and saw that the Undine was near Westport. She did not go to the shore, but when she came about and headed down the lake again, Peter Bristol turned the wheel and shut off the steam. There was a ringing of the bell, and then a call through the tube.
"I shall run her no longer!" replied the engineer, emphatically, at the mouthpiece.
Major Billcord came below, followed by Walk. Mr. Bristol stated his position, and took no further pains to conceal his identity. The father spoke to him like a man, and insisted upon being landed at Westport with his son. The magnate was taken all aback. He could do nothing without an engineer, and he could not punish Paul in the presence of his father. The engineer would take thesteamer up to the wharf, but in no other direction. The magnate had to yield, and father and son, both the Bristol and the Billcord, landed.
Lily was found, and she had a joyful meeting with her father. Bissell was very willing to loan his four-oar boat to convey them to Beech Hill. On the way they released Tom Topover, and, putting him into the Dragon, towed him back to Hornet Point. The happy re-union in the transplanted cottage need not be described.
The Sylph, with the gundalow, did not arrive till it was nearly dark. The shoe was not done when the scow was ready to take it on board, and they had to wait for the workmen to drill the holes for the bolts. The ship's company had seen the Undine when she passed Port Henry, but no one there knew to whom she belonged, or anything whatever in regard to her. They saw that she was the counterpart of the Sylph, and knew that she was one of the celebrated class to which she belonged.
Some of the students thought there might be a chance for a race between her and the Beech Hill steamer; but Dory was sure enough that Captain Gildrock would not permit the Sylph to race with anything that went by steam.
The principal had returned from Burlington in the afternoon, and when he saw the four-oar boat, with the Dragon in tow, moving up to HornetPoint, he walked over to the cottage. He was a spectator of the affecting interview between Mrs. Bristol and her husband, even before the Dragon was hauled up to the shore.
Tom Topover was very much battered in the conflict with Paul. He was sure of two very black eyes, and he could hardly walk when he was helped out of the flatboat. The principal thought he had been punished enough for the present; and as he seemed to be very humble, for him, he was allowed to limp home, after a strong admonition from the captain.
The principal had been so good a friend to the family, that Mrs. Bristol begged him to stay and hear her husband's story, and listen to the adventures of Paul since he left in the afternoon. The moving of the cottage had to be related by Paul. The prolonged conversation was interrupted only by the arrival of the Sylph. After the shoe was landed at the boat-shed, and the gundalow towed to the stone quarry, the students learned all about the new steamer, in which they were very much interested, though they were sorry to learn that Major Billcord was her owner.
On Monday afternoon, the shoe was bolted to the keel of the Lily, and the inside work, whichhad been left unfinished for this job, was completed. The following Saturday was appointed for the launch of the boat, for this day would complete the school year of the institution. Invitations had been sent to the gentlemen who had served as examiners the preceding year, and on Friday afternoon the Sylph, fully manned, and dressed in gay colors, brought up Mr. Bridges, Mr. Ritchie, and Mr. Plint. They were hospitably entertained at the mansion.
In the forenoon a sort of public exhibition took place in the great hall of the boat-house, which delighted the spectators, and gave them a very high idea of the progress of the students in the mechanic arts, as well as in the book studies. After this show, the visitors went through the shops, and inspected the Lily as she stood on the stocks. A brass band played a portion of the time, and in the middle of the day a choice collation was served on the green.
About all the young ladies in Genverres, and not a few from Burlington and Westport, were present. Possibly there was some heavy flirting done, for again the students in their uniform were lions of the first order.
But the great event of the day was to be thelaunch of the Lily. She had been fully prepared in the morning for the exciting occasion, and two jury-masts had been put up on board, and she was covered with flags and streamers. The boat was to move from the ways at four, and an hour before that time the students and the principal were not a little astonished to see the two Chesterfield barges pull into the Beechwater, and take positions near the farther side of the lake.
Captain Gildrock sent Mr. Bentnick, the principal instructor, to invite them on shore to partake of a collation. Colonel Buckmill sat in the stern-sheets of the Dasher, but he politely declined the invitation, with profuse thanks. His young gentlemen desired to see the launch, but he would not give the principal any trouble on such a busy day.
The captain was sorry for this refusal, but he seemed to insist that the hospitality of Beech Hill should not suffer in the estimation of the students from the other side, and he sent a boat loaded with ice-cream, cake, and lemonade to the unwonted visitors, which were accepted with more thanks.
At a few minutes before four, the principal and a small party, including not more than half a dozenof the students, went on board of the Lily. A little later, the gallant captain of the Sylph escorted Miss Lily Bristol to the deck of the boat. Her appearance was the occasion of the most tremendous applause on the part of the students and the crowd assembled on shore. It was observed that the Chesterfields joined in this demonstration, with a vigor which astonished their former foes.
Captain Gildrock gave certain orders, which were followed by the sound of hammers as the hands knocked away the wedges. The principal raised his hand, which was followed by one discharge of a cannon. At this instant the hull began to move very slowly. Assisted by Captain Dornwood, Lily Bristol ascended to the heel of the bowsprit with a bottle in her hand.
What this bottle contained no one but the captain knew. According to tradition and custom, it ought to be filled with wine; but the principal was a very strong, practical temperance man. However, as the contents of the bottle were to be dashed into the lake, it did not much matter what they were.
The velocity of the moving hull increased as she descended the inclined plane; and as soon as shewas under full headway, Lily broke the bottle over the bow of the schooner.
"I give to this vessel the name of Lily, and may she be prosperous on the element to which she belongs," said she.
Then the band struck up "Hail to the Chief," and all the students and everybody else yelled and applauded with all their might. The ladies waved their handkerchiefs, and a salvo of artillery followed. The Lily struck the water, and ploughed her way nearly to the other side of the lake, where she was brought up by the lines attached to her. She rested on the water as gracefully as a swan, and as soon as she was fairly afloat, another series of ringing cheers saluted her.
The Sylph, under the charge of the first officer, immediately fastened to her, and she was towed to her berth at the wharf, where she was to remain until the next school year began, in September. But the visitors were eager to examine her, and an arrangement was made by which all who desired could pass on board, make the circuit of her deck and then leave without causing an uncomfortable crowd. Through the cabin doors and the opening for the skylight they could see somethingof the cabin, while the fore-scuttle gave a partial view of the cook-room.
The young officers and crew of the Sylph told their friends they should see her after she was rigged, her sails bent on, and the cabin and cook-room were furnished. There could be no doubt, so far as the students were concerned, that the young ladies who gushed so prettily over the craft would be invited to sail in her.
With this great event ended the second school year of the Beech Hill Industrial School. The students were certainly satisfied with the experience they had had there, and, notwithstanding the sharpness of the discipline, they had only pleasant memories of the past. Those who had been there two years were well prepared to earn their own living. Though none of the machinists or carpenters could be called finished workmen, they were skilled enough to obtain moderate wages. It would require more years of study and practice to make them into first-class mechanics.
None of them had yet completed the course of instruction, though the needs of their parents compelled seven of them to leave the school and assist in supporting families. By this time the reputation of the school had been established, and therewere applications for three times as many young men to work as engineers, carpenters, and machinists. Good places were secured for those who were obliged to leave.
Three of them were to run stationary engines, one was to work as a carpenter, and three more were to learn trades for which their education had fitted them to a considerable degree. The principal had given them a lecture on the subject of wages, in which he bluntly told them that they could not expect full wages, for they were not competent to earn them. They were not yet physically able to do the work of a man, and they were not competent to do all that would be required of them in their several trades and callings. They had learned a great deal, and had acquired considerable dexterity; but if they were judged by what they did not know, they would stand as weak vessels. No man ever learned out in his trade, and the time never came when there was nothing more to learn.
A certain very wise man, as men are measured, declared that he had only learned enough to realize what a fool he was. The principal told the graduates that one of their greatest perils was that of knowing too much. Modesty in regard tothe measurement of their own skill and knowledge was essential to them. It was better that others should find out how much they knew rather than themselves.
On Monday morning the Sylph went up the lake with the examiners and others who were to spend their vacations at home. In the afternoon she went down the lake with those who were going in that direction, and the ship's company was considerably smaller when the steamer returned to Beech Hill.
Mr. Bristol went on the afternoon trip, for Corny Minkfield and John Brattle, the engineers, were to be left at Burlington. Mr. Jepson was privately instructed by the principal to test his qualifications. It appeared that while he had but little scientific knowledge, he was as competent to run an engine as the majority of those who were employed in this capacity.
"I confess, Mr. Bristol, that I am very much interested in your family, and I shall be glad to retain you at the school," said Captain Gildrock. "I find that Mr. Jepson's duty in connection with the running of the engines in the shops interferes with his usefulness as an instructor. I shall relieve him entirely of the laborious task he hashitherto performed in the most faithful manner, for he is too valuable as a teacher to have any of his time wasted. I shall appoint you as engineer of the shops, though you are to serve in the steamer when required."
"I thank you, sir, with all my heart," replied Mr. Bristol. "You have done so much for my family, that I already owe you a debt of gratitude I could never repay."
"What I have done has afforded me as much pleasure as it has the members of the family," added the principal.
"The moving of the cottage was the greatest and the most timely thing that ever was done. But, Captain Gildrock, I saved considerable money, for a poor man, and I should like to buy a lot of land for my wife's cottage, and put a cellar under it."
"How do you like its present location?" asked the captain.
"Paradise has no finer spot, sir."
"Then I will give you a deed of the lot on which the house stands, without any money, for it will be a great protection to my estate to have your family in just that locality."
Mr. Bristol was overwhelmed at this generousoffer, and he accepted it with a heart full of gratitude. During the vacation the house was raised somewhat and a cellar put under it. The Topovers, who had troubled the captain for years by their incursions, ceased to come in by the road to the stone-quarries.
Though it was vacation at Beech Hill, and only a very few of the boys, who had no homes, remained during the summer months, there were some lively times there. The instructors were all gone, but plenty of company came from the cities. Almost every day there was some kind of an excursion, and Mr. Bristol was available as engineer, so that the Sylph was constantly in use.
Captain Gildrock had another idea come into his fertile brain. The Lily was so great a success that he decided to build a steam yacht about half the length of the Sylph, and to have the engine constructed in the shops by the students. He found they enjoyed their work more when they were doing something which they could use when it was completed. However, he did not say much about it.