CHAPTER IVA STRANGE RACE
Suddenly theWater Witch’swhistle sent out a series of piping toots.
“What’s the meaning of that?” asked Chester of Detective Calvert, who had quietly resumed his seat in one of the wicker chairs in front of the youth.
“It’s a challenge to a race.”
“I accept it,” said Alvin, with a flash of his eyes. At the same moment he swung the wheel over and began circling out to the left, so as to turn in the shortest possible space. “If that boat can outrun me I want to know it.”
“Be keerful ye don’t run over him,” cautioned Mike, catching the excitement, “as Tam McMurray said whin he started to overtake a locomotive.”
Alvin quickly hit up the pace of the launch, which sped down the Sheepscot with so sudden a burst of speed that all felt the impulse. The sharp bow cut thecurrent like a knife, the water curving over in a beautiful arch on each side and foaming away from the churning screw. Even with the wind-shield they caught the impact of the breeze, caused by their swiftness, and each was thrilled by the battle for mastery.
“Are you doing your best?” asked Calvert, watching the actions of the youthful Captain.
“No; I am making about two-thirds of the other’s speed.”
“Then don’t do any better, is my advice,” said the detective.
Alvin glanced over his shoulder.
“Why not?”
“It may be wise at this stage of the game not to let them know that you can surpass them. Wait till the necessity arises.”
“I agree with Mr. Calvert,” added Chester, and the Captain was impressed by the logic of the counsel. He was on the point of increasing the pace, but refrained. In truth he was already wondering what they would do if they overtookthe other and what could be gained by passing the boat.
Again the whistle piped several times and it was evident that the fugitive, as it may be called, had “put on more steam.”
“Do you wish me to let her get away from us?” asked Alvin.
“Not for the present, but that may be the best course. Hold your own for awhile and then gradually fall back.”
When the race opened, less than an eighth of a mile separated the contestants. The abrupt burst lessened this slightly and then it appeared to be stationary as the two glided down the river.
Such were the relative positions when theWater Witchshot past Ram Island, holding the middle of the stream, and a few minutes later came abreast of Isle of Springs.
“Those two young fellows have a man with them,” remarked Calvert. “He tried to keep out of sight when we first met, but now he doesn’t seem to care. You can see him plainly without the help of the glasses.”
Such was the fact, and Chester said:
“They must know that we also have a friend with us.”
“I don’t see that it matters either way. I think you are gaining.”
“But not half fast enough,” added Mike, who was standing and impatient to beat their opponent. “We must come up wid the spalpeens before they git to Boothbay.”
“They are not heading for Boothbay,” observed Calvert, whose keen eyes had detected the change in the line of flight. His companions saw he was right. The front boat had made so abrupt a change of course that it was almost at right angles to that of the pursuer. The side of the launch was exposed, showing the two youths, one of whom held the wheel, while the man with a mustache sat directly beside the other. It might be said of the two craft and their crews that they were twins, so marked was their resemblance.
Naturally Alvin shifted his line of pursuit. You may recall that, opposite the Isle of Springs, Goose Rock Passage connects Sheepscot River with Knubble Bay,which leads into Montsweag Bay, reaching northward on the western side of the long island of Westport. In their first trip northward our young friends had gone to the eastward of Westport, as they had been doing during this race. Montsweag Bay takes the name of Back River at the northern end of the island and that and the Sheepscot unite above before reaching Wiscasset.
TheWater Witchdived into Goose Neck Passage past Newdick Point, where it turned northward into Knubble Bay. This is the path taken by the steamers from Bath and other places on the Kennebec when going to Boothbay Harbor, Squirrel Island and other points. To the westward of these bodies of water sweeps the noble Kennebec to the sea.
Just ahead was discerned a swiftly approaching mass of tumbling water, above which the deck, pilot house and puffing smokestack of a little steamer showed. This was the “pony of the Kennebec”—theGardiner, plowing ahead in such desperate haste that one might well believe thefate of a score of persons depended upon its not losing a half minute. Alvin took good care to give her plenty of room and saluted with several whistle toots. There was no reply. The captain merely glanced at the two craft and sped onward like an arrow from the bow of the hunter.
TheDeerfootrocked and plunged in the swell made by the steamer, which, spreading out like a fan from its bow, ran tumbling and foaming along the rocky shores, keeping pace with the headlong charge of the boat, and trying to engulf everything in its path. One small catboat that was tied to a rickety, home-made landing, after a couple of dives capsized, as if it were a giant flapjack under which a housewife had slid her turning iron.
“They’re gaining!” exclaimed Chester, who was closely watching the progress of the racers. “Do you mean to let them get away, Alvin?”
“Mr. Calvert will answer that question.”
“I do so by advising that you neither gain nor lose for the present.”
The Captain gave the launch a littlemore power, and it became clear to all that the pursuer was picking up the ground, or rather water, that she had lost. Then for several minutes no difference in speed was perceptible. A space of a furlong separated the two when they shot past the point of land bearing the odd name of Thomas Great Toe, which is on the western side of the lower part of Westport, some two miles above Goose Neck Passage. Here the water is a mile in width, and is filled with islands of varying sizes, until the large bay to the northward is reached.
TheWater Witchpersisted in hugging the eastern shore, while her pursuer kept well out, as if to make sure of having plenty of room in which to pass her, when the chance came. But all the same the chance did not come. It was soon seen that the fugitive was drawing away from her pursuer. Mike Murphy fumed, but held his peace.
“It’s mesilf that hasn’t any inflooence here,” he reflected, “as I obsarved to mysilf whin dad and mither agreed that a thundering big licking was due me.”
“Can you overhaul her?” asked Detective Calvert.
“Easiest thing in the world; I can shoot past her as if she were lying still.”
“Well, don’t do it.”
Mike could remain silent no longer.
“That’s a dooce of a way to run a race! Whin ye find ye can bate the ither out of sight ye fall back and let her doot. That’s the style I used to run races wid the ither boys at school, but the raison was I couldn’t help it. If ye’ll allow me to utter a few words of wisdom I’ll do the same.”
Alvin nodded his head.
“It is that ye signal to that pirut ahead to wait and give us a tow, being that’s the only way we can howld our own wid ’em.”
Now while it was trying to Alvin and Chester to engage in a race of the nature described and voluntarily allow the contestant to beat them, when they knew they had the power of winning, yet they believed it was the true policy, since Detective Calvert had said so. They understood the disgust of Mike and could not forbear having a little fun at his expense.
“You see,” said Chester gravely, “those two young men who gave you and Alvin such a warm time the other night are on the other boat, and if we should come to close quarters with them they would be pretty sure to even up matters with you.”
Mike glared at the speaker, as if doubting the evidence of his ears.
“Phwat is that ye’re saying?” he demanded. “Isn’t that the dearest object of yer heart? I shall niver die contint till I squar’ matters wid ’em, and ye knows the same.”
“You forget,” added Calvert, with the same seriousness, “that they have a full-grown man to help them out.”
“And haven’t we a full-grown man wid us, as me dad said whin he inthrodooced me to his friends at Donnybrook, I being ’liven years old? Begorra, I’m thinking we haven’t any such person on boord.”
It was a pretty sharp retort, but the officer could not repress his amusement at the angry words. Alvin looked over his shoulder and winked at Calvert and Chester, making sure that Mike did not observe thesignal. In his impatience, he had turned his back upon them and was looking gloomily over the stern at the foaming wake.
“I wonder if there isn’t some tub along the shore that’ll put out and run us down. I hope, Captain, that whin we git back home ye’ll kaap this a secret from dad.”
“And why?”
“He’ll sure give me the greatest walloping of me life.”
“For what reason?”
“For consoorting wid a party that run away from the finest chance in the wurrld for a shindy. It’s a sin that can be wiped out in no ither way.”
“I’ll explain to him,” said Calvert, “that you couldn’t help yourself.”
“And it’s mighty little difference that will make, as Terry McCarthy said when he had the ch’ice of foighting two Tipperary byes or three Corkonians.”
“Wouldn’t your father prefer to have us bring you home safe and unhurt rather than to have your beauty battered out of you?” inquired the detective, with a solemn visage.
Mike, who had risen to his feet and was still staring over the stern, slowly turned and faced the questioner. Then, with an expression of contempt, he said:
“Ye haven’t the honor of an acquaintance wid me dad.”
CHAPTER VThe Loser of the Race
A long, low bridge connects the western projection of Westport with Woolwich on the opposite bank, beyond which spreads Montsweag Bay, narrowing to Back River, which, as has been explained, joins the Sheepscot.
The draw had just been swung open when our friends came in sight of the bridge, and saw theWater Witchpassing through. The bridge tender immediately began turning his lever with which he closed the draw. Alvin whistled to signify that he wished to follow the other, but seemingly the man did not hear him. His back steadily rose and fell, as he worked the handle of his contrivance, and the movable section of the structure slowly swung back in response.
“Isn’t that lucky now!” was the sarcastic exclamation of Mike.
“Why?” asked Chester.
“He wants to hilp ye fall back further behind the ither boat.”
“There may be something in that,” the Captain replied.
None the less, Alvin continued his tooting, without abating his speed. The tender, however, did not mean to tantalize them, and all quickly saw the cause of his action. A heavily loaded wagon had come upon the bridge from the Woolwich side, and waited while the draw was held open. The driver must have had a “pull” with the attendant, who immediately closed the draw so he could cross before the second boat passed through.
At this juncture fate showed how perverse she can be when in the mood. Directly over the draw, something connected with the wagon or the harness of the team got askew and the driver paused to set it right. Possibly it was pretence on his part, for many men will do such things, but, all the same, he took ten minutes before he climbed back on his seat and started his horses forward again. Alvin reversed the screw, so that the launchbecame motionless when a few yards from the bridge.
I am afraid the driver purposely delayed theDeerfoot, for when Mike shouted an angry reproach, he looked around, put his thumb to his nose, twiddled his fingers, and then moved slowly over the rattling planks toward Westport.
“I suggist that ye turn about, Captain, and scoot for home,” was the ironical advice of the Irish youth.
“For what reason?”
“I’m afeard that man is real mad and he might take it into his head to git down off his wagon and saize aich of us by the nape of the neck as the boat goes through, and slam us down so hard he’d jar us.”
“Better wait, Captain, till he’s a little farther off,” advised Calvert; “there may be something in what Michael says.”
As for Mike, feeling he could not do justice to the subject, he held his peace for the moment.
Gliding through the draw and entering Montsweag Bay, the occupants of theDeerfootwere surprised to see nothing ofthe other launch. She was as invisible as if she had been scuttled and sunk in fifty feet of water.
The right shore above the structure, belonging to Westport, slopes to the right, and something like a half mile above, this course is at right angles to the stream. It is really a peninsula, there being an inlet more than a mile long which divides it from the rest of Westport. This little bay is spanned by a bridge which forms a part of the highway that passes over the longer structure already referred to.
When Mike found theWater Witchhad vanished, he pretended to be vastly relieved. He had dropped into his chair and now straightened up.
“But ain’t we lucky?”
“Why so?” asked Calvert.
“If we hadn’t been stopped at the bridge the ither boat might have broke down and we’d come up wid the same, and those chaps would have give us all a good spanking.”
“I am glad you are becoming so prudent,” said Calvert, with an approving nod.“We must take Michael with us whenever we are likely to run into danger. Captain, if you don’t mind, you might tune up your boat a bit.”
“Better wait,” suggested Mike, “fur ye might gain on t’other one.”
Alvin now put on the highest speed of which theDeerfootwas capable. The bow rose, the stern settled down in the water, and the spray was flung high and splashed against the wind-shield. The exhaust deepened to a steady roar, and the broadening wake was churned into a mass of tumbling soapy foam. The whole boat shivered with the vibration of the powerful engine. She was going more than twenty miles an hour—in fact, must have approached her limit, which was four miles faster. Alvin had attained such a tremendous pace only a few times in his practice and did not like it. Though his instructor had assured him that the launch was capable of holding it indefinitely without injury, he feared a breakdown or the unnecessary wear upon many parts of the engine.
He kept up the furious speed until theycurved around the upper part of the peninsula and saw the expansion above, all the way to Long Ledge, where Back River begins. He had been confident of catching sight of theWater Witch, but she was nowhere in sight.
The natural conclusion was that the launch had taken on a higher burst of speed—probably the limit—and gone so far that by still keeping near the shore she had placed several miles behind her—enough to carry her out of the field of vision.
“Keep it up till we catch sight of her again,” suggested Calvert. “I believe there are no more bridges between us and Wiscasset.”
Some three or four miles were passed at high speed, when they reached a portion of the river which opened a view of still greater extent. They saw two small sailboats at a distance, and a little steamer puffing northward, but nothing of theWater Witch.
“You may as well slow down,” remarked the detective, who, guarding a match withhis hands behind the wind-shield, proceeded to light another cigar.
“What do you make of it?” asked Alvin, turning his head, as the pace became slower than before.
“We have passed the other boat; she is behind us instead of in front.”
“What shall we do?”
“For hiven’s sake don’t go back,” protested Mike. “Ye might find her—and then what would become of ye?”
The detective now gave his view of the situation.
“If we should turn round and find that boat, those on board would know we were looking for them. We don’t wish to give that impression, at least for some time to come. While we were going in one direction and they in another, they challenged us to a race. Any two boats might have done the same in the circumstances. We have to accept defeat and that’s all there is to it.”
Calvert looked at his watch.
“It is near noon; if you all feel as I do you would welcome a good dinner.”
“That’s the most sensible sense that I’ve heerd since we started,” remarked Mike, who was as hungry as his companions.
“It is not a long run to Wiscasset,” said Alvin; “and there’s more than one good hotel there.”
“I’m thinking that at the speed ye’re going, we’ll hardly arrive in time for supper. There must be some place betwixt here and the town where we can git enough to stay the pangs of starvation till we raich Wiscasset.”
“We shall pass several landings, and there are farmhouses along shore where I’m sure the folks will be glad to accommodate us.”
The others were not much impressed with Mike’s plan, but since there was plenty of time at their command, they fell in with it. Alvin suggested that all should keep a lookout for an inviting dwelling, when, if a good landing could be made, they would stop and investigate.
Chester offered to relieve his chum at the wheel, and Alvin was quite willing to exchange places with him. The occurrencesof the last hour or more, together with what was said by Detective Calvert, had increased the confidence of the youths in him. True, they could not understand the full object of this cruise up the river, after gaining sight of the launch and the occupants for whom he had been searching. They were content to await explanation on that point, but Alvin determined that one or two things which puzzled him and Chester should be cleared up.
“Accepting what you said last night at my home, Mr. Calvert, I must say for myself and friend that we do not understand some of your actions. Perhaps you won’t mind explaining them.”
“I shall be glad to do so, if it is prudent at this time.”
“You will pardon me for saying that in our opinion you acted foolishly when you followed us off the steamer the other day at Sawyer Island, pretended you had made a mistake in landing there, and then dogged us to that little inlet. We saw you several times, but you either wished or pretended you wished to keep out of our sight, as, forinstance, after crossing that long bridge from Hodgdon to Barter Island. You followed us, but when we stopped at the side of the road to wait for you, you slipped among the trees and made a circuit round the spot. Why did you do that?”
The detective smiled, and smoked a minute or two before replying.
“Perhaps it was undignified, though a man in my profession has to do a good many things in which he casts dignity to the winds. The truth is, I formed the intention of getting off at Sawyer as soon as I heard your friend Mr. Richards say he thought he had caught sight of your launch in that cove. I was trying to get track of the same parties, but prudence whispered to me that the time had not yet come in which you and I should hitch up together. I suspected it might soon be advisable, but not just then. My pretence of having left at the wrong landing was a piece of foolishness meant only to afford you and the agent a little amusement, but I feared you would run into trouble with those criminals and I decided to keep you under my eye.Until I concluded to trust you, it was just as well that you should distrust me. For several reasons, which I won’t explain at this point, I came to the belief last night that it was time we made common cause.”
CHAPTER VIA Warm Reception
“I have me eye on the right place, as Father Mickle said whin he wint into the saloon to pull out Jim Gerrigan by the nape of his neck.”
Mike Murphy pointed to a small, faded yellow house which stood at the top of a gentle slope on their right. It was a hundred yards from the river and a faintly marked, winding path led from it down to the bank. The surrounding land showed meagre cultivation, and the looks were anything but inviting.
On the little porch sat a big man with grizzled whiskers, smoking a brier-wood pipe, his beamlike legs crossed and his arms folded as he moodily watched the launch.
“It strikes me as a poor promise,” remarked Alvin, who, nevertheless, asked Chester to steer to the shore to see whether a landing could be readily made. The prospect was good, as a shaky frameworkhad evidently been placed there for use, though no small boat was near.
Chester brought theDeerfootalongside with the skill that the owner of the launch would have shown. Alvin sprang lightly upon the structure, which sagged under his weight, caught the rope tossed to him by Chester, and fastened it around one of the rickety supports. The boat was made fast.
“I’ll walk up to the house and have a talk with the gintleman,” said Mike, stepping carefully out upon the boards. “Do I look hungry?” he asked of Alvin, who replied:
“You always have that expression.”
“I’m glad to hear it, fur I wish to impriss the gintleman that that’s my condition. I’ll assoom a weak, hisitating walk. Do ye abide here aginst me return and repoort.”
Detective Calvert retained his seat and lighted another cigar. Chester sat with his hand idly resting on the wheel. Alvin kept his place on the tiny dock, and all three watched Mike Murphy. They smiled, for the stooping shoulders of the Irish youthand his feeble gait were those of a man of four-score. The huge stranger sat like a statue, slowly puffing his pipe, his glowering eyes fixed on the approaching lad.
With each advancing step, Mike’s doubts increased. The nearer he came to the stranger, the more forbidding he appeared. Had the lad followed his inclination he would have turned back, but he knew his friends were watching him. Besides which, he was really hungry.
He had passed half the distance between the boat and the house, scrutinizing the scowling fellow all the time, when the latter made his first movement. He uncrossed his huge legs, took the pipe from between his lips and emitted a low whistle.
“He must be so cheered at sight of me that he is obleeged to give exprission to his feelings—Begorra!”
Around the end of the house dashed a mongrel dog, and halting abruptly with pricked ears, glanced at his master to hear his command. The canine was of moderate size, black and white in color, one eye wrapped about by an inky splash of hairthat made him look as if the organ was in mourning.
Holding the pipe away from his lips, the man pointed the stem toward Mike, who had paused, and said to his dog:
“Sick him, Nick! Sick him!”
And the dog proceeded to “go for” the caller. Had the latter run away, the brute would have been at his heels, nipping and biting at each step. But Mike had no thought of retreating. He was filled with anger at his inhospitable reception and gave his whole attention to the animal, which with a muttered growl charged full speed at him.
Mike noticed that a collar with projecting spikes encircled the stumpy neck, and never was one of his breed more eager to bury his teeth in a victim’s anatomy.
“This is going to be a shindy sure, as Micky Rooney said when he tackled five p’licemen—and I haven’t even a shillaleh in hand.”
Mike coolly braced himself for the shock, not yielding an inch nor turning his gaze from his foe. It was no longer a dodderingold man who faced the stranger, but a sturdy youth, muscular, brave and always eager for the fray.
Nothing could surpass the skill with which the first assault was repelled. At the exact moment Mike launched his shoe, the toe of which caught Nick under the jaw and caused him to turn a backward somersault. He uttered several yelps, but the blow added if possible to his rage.
The dog was so bewildered for the moment that he lost his sense of direction, and made a dash toward the porch where his master was watching proceedings.
“Sick him, Nick! Sick him!” he called, pointing his finger at the lad.
Nick impetuously obeyed orders, and at the critical moment Mike launched a second kick, which, however, was not delivered with the mathematical exactness of the first. It landed in the canine’s neck and drove him back several paces, but he kept his balance, and came on again with the same headlong fierceness as before.
It was at this juncture that Stockham Calvert flung away his cigar, sprang fromhis chair and with one bound landed beside Alvin Landon.
“I don’t intend that Mike shall get into trouble.”
As he spoke, he laid his hand on his hip pocket where reposed his revolver.
“It looks as if it’s the dog that is in trouble,” replied Alvin, his cheek tingling with pride at sight of the bravery of his comrade.
“If he had to fight only one brute I shouldn’t fear, but there are two against him. When Mike is through with the dog he will have to face his master. I shall be ready to give him help.”
“You don’t mean to shoot the fellow?” said the alarmed Captain.
“It won’t be necessary,” was the quiet response.
The next exploit of Mike was brilliant. He did not kick at the dog, for that only deferred the decisive assault, but as the mongrel rose in air, he side-stepped with admirable quickness, gripped him by the baggy skin at the back of his neck, and, slipping his hand under the spiky collar,held him fast. The brute snarled, writhed, snapped his jaws and strove desperately to insert his teeth into some part of his captor, who held him off so firmly that he could do no harm.
Mike now turned and began walking hurriedly toward the launch, with the squirming captive still in his iron grip.
The infuriated owner sprang from his seat and leaped down the steps.
“Drop that dog!” he shouted, striding after Mike, who called back:
“I’ll drop him as soon as I raich the river.”
Afraid of being checked, the youth broke into a trot, and an instant later was at the landing, the yelping mongrel still firmly gripped. Back and forth Mike swung him as if he were the huge bob of a pendulum, and then let go. He curved over the launch, like an elongated doughnut, and dropped into the current with a splash. But all quadrupeds swim the first time they enter the water. In an instant, the brute came to the surface, and working all his legs vigorously, came smoothly around the sternof the launch, and headed for Mike with the purpose of renewing the attack.
The man, who had dropped his pipe and strode down the walk, was over six feet in height, of large frame, and manifestly the possessor of great muscular strength. Although he knew his dog had suffered no harm and was safe, he was enraged over his maltreatment and resolute to wreak vengeance upon the author of the insult.
Mike read his purpose, poised himself and put up his fists.
“Now for the next dog and it’s mesilf that is ready fur him.”
It would give me pleasure to tell how Mike Murphy vanquished the giant who attacked him, but such a statement would be as untrue as absurd. You have read of the dude who daintily slipped off his kid gloves, adjusted his eyeglasses, and proceeded to chastise an obstreperous cowboy; but take it from me that no such thing ever occurred, except in stories. Nature governs through rigid laws, and two and two will always make four. It might have been creditable to the courage of the Irishyouth thus to engage in a bout with a man who would have quickly beaten him to the earth, but it would have shown very poor judgment. Had they clashed there could have been only one end to the encounter.
But they did not clash. Several paces separated the two, when Stockham Calvert, his thin gray coat buttoned around his trim form, stepped quickly between them, and, looking sharply into the face of the savage stranger, said in a voice that showed not the least agitation:
“Stop! he’s my friend!”
He raised one hand, palm outward by way of emphasis of his warning words.
“Who are you?” demanded the other, stopping short, his eyes flaming above his shaggy beard and under his straw hat, like an animal glaring through a thicket.
“Come on and you’ll learn!” was the reply in the same even tones, as Calvert assumed the posture of a trained pugilist.
Now it is proper to say of this man that he had been the champion boxer in college, and in his New York club he was easily the master of every one with whom he haddonned the gloves. Though of only average size and stature and inclined to thinness, his muscles were of steel, he had the quickness of a cat, and had been told more than once, that if he would enter the “magic circle” he would hold his own with the best in the profession. But, like all gentlemen who are masters of the manly art, he disliked personal encounters, and many a time had submitted to insulting words and even the accusation of timidity, rather than to call his iron fists and superb skill into play. You might have been in his company for months without suspecting his attainments in that respect. His business required that he should always carry a revolver, and when he placed his hand on his hip at sight of Mike Murphy’s personal danger, the action was instinctive, but he instantly gave up all thought of using so deadly a weapon. He was certain there was no necessity for it; he had no more doubt of his mastery of the bulky brute, who was equally confident, than he had of his ability to handle any one of the three lads who were his companions.
CHAPTER VIIScience versus Strength
Had the large man undergone the scientific training of the smaller one, he might have overcome him, for, as has been said, he was immensely powerful and must have been a third heavier than Stockham Calvert. But he was out of condition, and, worse than all for him, had not the slightest knowledge of the “manly art.” When he doubled his huge hairy fists, he charged upon the detective like a roaring bull, expecting to beat down his smaller antagonist as if he were pulp.
The pose of the defendant was perfect. Resting easily on his right foot, the left advanced and gently touching the ground, he could leap forward, backward or to one side with the agility of a panther. The left fist was held something more than a foot beyond the chest, the elbow slightly crooked, while the right forearm crossedthe breast diagonally at a distance of a few inches. This is the true position, and the combatant who knows his business always looks straight into the eyes of his opponent. The arms and body are thus in his field of vision, whereas if he once glances elsewhere he lays himself open to a sudden blow.
With that alertness which becomes second nature to a pugilist, Calvert saw before the first demonstration that his foe had no knowledge whatever of defending himself. He allowed him to make a single rush, his big fists and arms sawing space like a windmill. He struck twice, swishing the air in front of Calvert’s face, and gathered himself to strike again, when——
Not one of the three spectators could ever describe how it was done, for the action was too quick for the eye to follow. But, all the same, that metal-like left fist shot forward with the speed of lightning, and landing on the point of the chin, the recipient went down like an ox stricken by the axe of a butcher. Rather curiously, he did not fall backward, but lurched forwardand lay senseless, knocked out in the first round.
“You have killed him!” whispered the scared Captain.
“Not a bit of it, but he will be dead to the world for ten or fifteen minutes. We may as well let him rest in peace. What’s become of that dog?” asked the officer, glancing inquiringly around.
Chester pointed toward the house. The brute, with his two inches of tail aimed skyward, was scooting around the corner of the building as fast as his bowed legs could carry him. He would not have done so had he been of true bulldog breed, but being a mongrel, there was a big streak of yellow in his make-up.
“He’s come to the belief that it’s a good time to adjourn, as me cousin said whin someone blowed up the stump on which he was risting his weary body.”
“I think we have had enough foraging along the river,” remarked Captain Alvin, who re-entered the boat and resumed his place at the wheel. “We dine at Wiscasset.”
“I’m not partic’lar as to the place,” said Mike, “if only we dine.”
Chester flung the loop of rope off the support, and he and the others stepped aboard the launch, which moved up the river. Standing in front of the detective, Mike, with his genial grin, offered his hand:
“I asks the privilege of a shake of yours. I apologize for thinking ye didn’t like a shindy as well as the rest of us. I’m sorry for me mistake, as me uncle said, whin he inthroodoced dad to a party of leddies as a gintleman. I couldn’t have done better mesilf.”
The smiling officer cordially accepted the proffer.
“No one can doubt your pluck, Mike, but, to quote your favorite method of expressing yourself, you showed mighty poor judgment, as the owner of the bull said when the animal tried to butt a locomotive off the track. That man would have eaten you up.”
“P-raps, but he would have found me hard to digist. Do ye obsarve?”
He pointed to the little landing whichthey were leaving behind them. All looked and saw the burly brute of a man slowly rise to a sitting posture, with his hat off and his frowsy hair in his eyes, as he stared confusedly after the launch speeding up the river.
“He is recovering quicker than I expected,” was the only remark Calvert made, as he turned his back upon the fellow and gave his attention to lighting another cigar.
“He has the look of a fellow mixed and confused like, similar to Pat McGuigan, whin he dived off the dock and his head and shoulders wint through a lobster pot that he didn’t obsarve in time to avoid the same.”
“He’s coming round all right,” said Calvert, referring to the man they had left behind, though he did not glance at him. “He may not be very pretty, but he knows more than he did a little while ago. Which reminds me to say something that ought to have been said at our first interview.”
The three listened to the words of Calvert, who clearly was in earnest.
“Each of you knows that I am a professional detective who has been sent into Maine to do all I can to capture the gang that is robbing the post offices in this section. I told you that much, but I wish to ask you to be very, very careful not to say this to any person whom you may meet, until you have my permission to do so. Some would insist that it was unprofessional on my part to say what I did, but I had good reason for it, as will appear before I am through with the business.”
“It was not necessary to tell Chester and me that, but I suppose you wish to run no risk that can be avoided.”
“That’s it; I did not doubt your loyalty, but you know we can’t be too careful.”
Mike was leaning back in his chair deeply thinking.
“There’s one waak p’int in the plan suggisted.”
Inasmuch as no one had submitted a plan the three wondered.
“Me friend doesn’t wish us to tell anyone that he’s the best detictive and scrapper outside of our family in Ireland, but whenfolks priss their questions, some answer must be given or ’spicions will be stirred.”
“The point is well taken. I don’t wish you to tell an untruth——”
“I’m sure the task is not difficult fur the Captain and second mate,” interrupted Mike, “though it’s beyond me.”
“But you can evade a direct reply.”
“May I vinture upon another suggistion?” asked Mike.
“We shall all be glad to hear it, I’m sure.”
“Without waiting for questions to be asked, I’ll step up to ivery one that I obsarve casting an inquiring eye over ye and say ye’re my older brither, that took a hand in the Phoenix Park murders, but broke out of Dublin jail and thus escaped hanging, and yer kaaping dark in Ameriky till the little matter blows over.”
“A brilliant idea!” laughed the officer. “All I ask is that you give no truthful information about me.”
“Ye doesn’t objict to my telling folks how ye laid out that Goliah a bit ago?”
“I prefer you should not mention it.”
Mike sighed.
“Ah, have ye no pride of family, as Tam O’Toole used to say whin mintioning the fact that all his five brithers were in jail, where Tarn himsilf ought to have been?”
“I may add,” continued the man, “that it is quite likely we shall soon part company.”
Mike affected to be surprised.
“Doesn’t the Captain pay ye ’nough wages?”
“I have no fault to find on that score.”
“I’m glad to larn that. If he requires ye to do too much dooty, I’ll hilp ye out, the bist I can.”
“I promise to call upon you if necessary, Mike, but I hope I shall not be obliged to do so.”
“I have been wondering since we started,” said Alvin over his shoulder, “whether by any possibility theWater Witchkept on up the river ahead of us instead of running into some bay or inlet to the south.”
“It is possible, but not probable. You know we had an extended view of this stream, or rather of Montsweag Bay, andshe could not have gone far enough in the short time to pass out of sight.”
“Ye forgits how anxious the Captain was not to overtake her,” reminded Mike. “I once read of a farmer who chased a big black bear that had been staaling his sheep fur two days and nights and then quit. Can ye guess why?”
“I should say that after so long a chase he would have given up disgusted,” replied the detective.
“It was not that; it was ’cause he found the tracks were becooming too fresh.”
“I don’t think, Mike, that you are in danger of being accused of that,” ventured Chester, “because you are always fresh—you are neverbecomingso.”
“But the same is becooming to me, as Jim Flannery said whin he walked into church wid two black eyes and his head bent out of shape from the shindy he had with his twin brither over the quistion of aiting maat on Friday.”
“You seem quite sure that these three whom we saw in the launch are mixed up in these post office robberies?” asked Alvin.
“It has that look. No matter how certain I may feel, nothing can be accomplished until legal proof is obtained. You know the rule that every man must be presumed to be innocent until proved guilty.”
“It shtrikes me that the most important quistion of all has been sittled.”
“What’s that?”
“These two young gintlemen are the spalpeens that tried to hold ye up, Captain, the ither night on yer way home. That fur outweighs the taking of a few postage stamps from some country offices.”
“The puzzling feature of that business,” said Alvin, “is that when you meet those two fellows again, you will not have Mr. Calvert along to protect you.”
Mike stared as if he failed to catch the meaning of this astounding remark.
“Plaise say that agin, Captain, and say it slow like.”
Alvin’s face being turned away, he was not forced to maintain his gravity while he repeated in his most serious tones the remark quoted.
“All I have to say to that is not to say anything, as Teddy Geoghan observed whin they found a stolen pig in the bag he was carrying over his shoulder which the same he insisted was filled with clothes for Widow Mulligan.”