CHAPTER VIIIThe Lone Guest
TheDeerfootglided through the smooth waters, and while the afternoon was still young rounded to at the wharf, below the long wooden bridge which spans the stream at Wiscasset, and made fast where a score of other boats of all sizes and models were moored. Several large vessels were anchored farther out and Captain Alvin Landon had to slow down to thread his way among them. There was plenty of room, and the launch was tied up opposite a small excursion steamer which was to start southward an hour later. A tip to the old man who was looking after a number of yachts assured the safety of the last arrival from molestation.
The possibility that theWater Witchhad preceded them to Wiscasset caused a scrutiny of the various craft in sight by the Captain and his crew, including DetectiveCalvert, but nothing was seen of the boat.
“She is miles off down stream,” was the remark of the officer, “and for the present is out of the running.”
The four walked up the easy slope to the main street, along which they passed to the leading hotel for dinner. They were a little late and when they went into the spacious dining room found a table by themselves. The only other occupant was a tall, angular man of about the same age as Calvert, similarly attired and apparently giving his sole attention to the meal before him. He nodded to the group in a neighborly way, but did not speak.
When the four took their places at the small table, Calvert faced this person a short distance away; Chester Haynes sat with his back to him, thus confronting the detective, while Mike and Alvin occupied the respective ends of the board. These details sound trifling, but they had a meaning. Calvert thus distributed his companions apparently off-hand, but the seating of himself as mentioned was done with apurpose. Chester then, from the position he occupied, was the only one of the other three who observed anything significant in that action and in what followed.
In the first place, the officer raised his glass of water, and while slowly drinking looked over the top at the lone guest. Chester noticed that he sipped the fluid longer than common, gazed at the stranger and deliberately winked one eye. What response the other made of course could not be seen by Chester.
“The two are acquaintances,” was the conclusion of the lad, “and they don’t wish anyone else to know it.”
He was curious to know whether Alvin and Mike had noticed anything of the by-play. The Irish lad for the time devoted himself to satisfying his vigorous hunger and cared for naught else. The same was to be said of the Captain. Chester remained on the alert.
Several trifling incidents that occurred during the meal, which was enlivened by the wit of the Irish lad, confirmed Chester in his first suspicion. Calvert tried todivert possible suspicion by cheery remarks and pleasant conversation as the meal proceeded.
“I am sure, Mike, you never had any such feasts in the old country.”
Having said this, the detective coughed several times and held his napkin to his mouth, but Chester knew the outburst was forced, and was meant to carry to the other man, who rather curiously coughed the same number of times immediately afterward.
“A message and its reply,” was the thought of Chester, “but I have no idea of what they mean. Mr. Calvert doesn’t wish me to see anything and I won’t let him know I do.”
Meanwhile, Mike made his response to the inquiring remark of Calvert:
“Ye’re right, me frind, as Hank McCarthy said whin dining on one pratie and a bit of black bread, calling to mind his former feasting in his own home. Which reminds me, Mr. Calvert, to ask, did ye iver see the heart of an Irishman?”
“I’m not quite sure I grasp your meaning,Mike,” was the reply, while Alvin and Chester looked up.
“I can bist explain by a dimonstration, as the tacher said whin I asked him what was meant by the chastisement of a school lad. Now, give heed, all of ye, and I’ll show ye what I meant by the sinsible inquiry.”
Among the different articles of food on the table was a dish of “murphy” potatoes with their “jackets” on. That is, they had not been mashed or peeled, though a strip was shaved off of each end. They were mealy and white, and Mike had already placed several where they were sure to do the most good. The tubers in boiling had swollen so much that most of the skins had popped open in spots from the richness within.
Mike reached over and carefully selected a big murphy, which he held with the thumb of his left hand and fingers circling about it. The upper end projected slightly above the thumb and forefinger, as if peeping out to watch proceedings. The three stopped eating for the moment and watchedthe youth. While doing this, Chester glanced for an instant at the face of the officer, and saw him look quickly across the room and telegraph another wink.
Like a professional magician, Mike was very deliberate in order to be more impressive. The true artist does not overlook the minutest point, and he daintily adjusted the potato, shifting it about until it was poised exactly right. Then he slowly raised his open right hand, with the palm downward, until it was above his head. Like a flash he brought it down upon the upper end of the tuber, which shot through the loose encircling grasp as if fired from an air gun. The skin remained, but the potato itself whisked down upon the table with such force that it popped open, and lo!
“There’s the heart of an Irishman—Begoora! but I’m mistook!” exclaimed Mike in dismay, for when the tuber burst open the interior was black with decay!
Calvert threw back his head and roared, and Alvin and Chester came near falling from their chairs. Even the man at the other table joined in the boisterous merriment,which was increased by the comical expression of Mike. With open mouth and staring eyes he sat dumfounded. For once in his life he was caught so fairly that he was speechless.
The deft little trick he had performed many times, but never before had he been victimized by what seemed to be a rich, mealy potato. He couldn’t understand it.
Oddly enough the stranger was the first to recover his speech. He must have had little liking for Hibernians, since he called:
“You’re right, young man! You showed us the heart of a real Irishman!”
With lower jaw still drooping, Mike turned his head and stared at the speaker. He yearned to crush him with a suitable reply, but all his wit had been knocked out of him by the cruel blow of fate. However, it could not long remain so. He picked up the fragments of the potato, fumbled them reprovingly and gravely laid them on the tablecloth beside his plate. Then the old grin bisected his homely face, and addressing the three, he said:
“I made a slight mistake, as Jerry Sullivansaid whin he stepped out of the third story windy thinking it was the top of the stairs. If it’s all the same to yees, we’ll now give our attintion to disposing of the remaining stuff on the boord.”
Out of curiosity, the four cut in two each of the potatoes left in the dish. Every one was as sound as a dollar, whereat all laughed again, Mike as heartily as any.
“It’ll be a sorry day whin I can’t take a joke, as Jim Doolin said smiling whin his frinds pushed his cabin over on top of him as he lay sleeping behind it, but I was niver sarved such a trick before.”
Chester thought the unanimous merriment caused by Mike’s mishap would open an acquaintance between the lone guest and the others, but nothing more was said by the respective parties, nor did the watchfulness of the youth detect any further signals while at the table. Evidently an understanding had been brought about, and nothing else was required.
The meal finished, the four rose to leave the dining room. While there may have been nothing meant by Calvert’s action indropping to the rear, Chester was alert and glanced back as they walked into the hall outside. He was rewarded by seeing the officer turn his head for an instant and give a slight nod. No doubt it was meant for the guest left behind, whose response was invisible to all except him for whom it was intended. The individual must have been blessed with a good appetite, or he followed the sensible policy of lingering long over his meals, since he began eating before the little party and continued after their departure.
Reaching the pleasant, shady avenue, the four strolled through the town and when tired came back to the hotel and sat down. Chester was on the lookout for the stranger, but nothing was seen of him. What did it all mean and what was the cause of the secrecy between him and Stockham Calvert?
“If he chooses to explain I must wait until he is ready,” was the decision of Chester.
The afternoon was well forward, when they walked down the slope to the wharf,where theDeerfootawaited them. Alvin made a hasty inspection of it and found everything seemingly all right. As they were about to step aboard, the officer said:
“I shall have to bid you good-by for awhile.”
“Why is that?” asked the Captain, in surprise.
“You remember I told you it was likely, but I hope soon to meet you all again.”
Nothing could be said by way of objection, and he stood on the wharf as Alvin seated himself after adjusting the plug and swinging over the fly-wheel. The boat circled out into the broad stream, and all waved their hands to the officer, who responded similarly. Then he turned about and went slowly up the slope, probably to the hotel where they had dined.
When everything was moving easily, and the boat was gliding down stream, Chester sitting directly beside his chum told him all that he had observed in the dining room. Mike had gone to the stern of the launch and sat down in his favorite position, with his feet curled up under him.
CHAPTER IXA Break Down
Captain Alvin was keenly interested in the story of Chester Haynes. He admitted that he had noticed nothing peculiar, and it was evident that Mike had been equally blind to the events passing under their eyes.
“It is plain,” said Alvin, “that although Calvert told us a good many things about himself, there is a good deal more he didn’t tell.”
“What do you make of it all?”
“That man who was in the dining room with us may have been another detective or——”
“Or what?” asked Chester, observing the hesitation.
“I hate to say what comes into my mind, but every now and then a queer suspicion steals over me that Calvert is deceiving us and is not what he claims to be.”
“In other words, he is a member of thegang whom he pretends to be hunting down.”
“I am ashamed to confess it, but such has been my fear at times. And yet,” the Captain hastened to add, as if regretting his unworthy thoughts, “it seems impossible, when we call to mind all he did and how he has acted from the first of our acquaintance with him.”
Chester was thoughtful for a moment or two.
“I made up my mind after that rumpus down stream when he saved Mike from a bad beating, that he was just what he said, though I won’t deny that more than one thing he has done—such as following us from Sawyer Island to the inlet where theWater Witchlay, and his behavior on the road—had a queer look. But what’s the use of speculating about it? Sooner or later we shall know the truth, and, if we don’t, I can’t say I much care. Which course will you take in going home?”
“I haven’t any choice; have you?”
“Suppose then you follow Back River, and around Cape Newagen home. That’sa pretty good run, and at the rate we are going we sha‘n’t get there before dark.”
“Have you any reason for the choice?”
“Only that we may catch sight of theWater Witch, from which we parted in those waters. If we do, we shall have to hold Mike in leash.”
So it came about that theDeerfootturned into the headwaters of Back River, passing Cushman Point through the Cowseagan Narrows, and into the more open waters below. Three or four miles farther would take them to Montsweag Bay, of which mention has been made, that body of water being twice or thrice as wide as the river.
Suddenly Chester asked an odd question:
“Do you think the launch was injured by that spurt this forenoon?”
“She ought not to have been, for she has gone through the strain more than once and for a longer time. Why do you ask?”
“Somehow or other, it seems to me she isn’t running exactly right.”
“What is wrong?”
“I can’t put my finger on it; I may say Ifeelit—that’s all.”
“Well, you are right, for I have had the same misgiving ever since we left Wiscasset. I have tried to figure it out, but can’t and am waiting for it to develop, hoping all the time it won’t—hello! there it comes!”
While the speed of the boat was not affected, the engine began hissing with vicious persistency.
“Take the wheel, Chester, while I look around.”
He first examined the spark plugs, knowing that if one was broken the result would be what had just taken place, but all were intact. He had turned the switch, stopping the motor, and next inspected the valve caps where a fracture or loosening would have caused the hissing. They were sound and tight and the gaskets where the exhaust and intake pipes connected with the cylinders were tight.
“I’ve found it!” he called to Chester. “It’s an open compression cup, which is easily fixed; I am glad it is nothing worse.”
Remembering the lessons he had been taught, the young Captain soon corrected the fault and resumed progress. Thelaunch, however, was held down to a comparatively slow pace, for the slight slip naturally caused misgiving. Several minutes passed with all going well.
“It seems to me safe to give her more speed,” said Chester. “At this rate we sha‘n’t reach home until late at night.”
“All right; turn on more power—no, don’t!Ouch!”
Alvin snapped his fingers, as one does when they are burned. He had placed them upon the exhaust pipe, which was growing red hot.
“Shut her off! The mischief is to pay.”
Knowing from the gesture of the Captain what was the matter, Chester asked, as he obeyed the request:
“What causes that?”
“There is either something wrong with the water pump, the spark is retarded, or a lack of sufficient lubrication, causing the motor to heat. It will take some time to find out and we shall have to drift for awhile.”
“Why not run to land and tie up? We may get in the way of some of the boatssteaming up or down the river if we stay out here.”
Alvin scrutinized the eastern bank, which is the upper portion of Westport, and much nearer than Wiscasset township opposite.
“The water is so deep that I suppose we can touch the bank anywhere without risk to the hull. All right; feel your way in.”
The turning of the boat naturally stirred Mike’s curiosity and he came back to learn the cause, which was soon explained to him.
“Ye have me consint, since I obsarve there’s a bit of a town not far off where we can git enough food to keep off starvation.”
Fir, spruce and pines line the shore of this part of Westport, the ground rising moderately inland. A half mile, more or less, from the river, runs the public highway from Clough Point, the northern extremity of Westport, almost to Brooks Point at the extreme southern end, the distance being something like fifteen miles, the entire length of the island.
The village to which Mike Murphy alluded stands alongside this road, a half mile from the shore of Back River. There was enough rise to the ground to show the church steeple and the roofs of the higher buildings. Perhaps it will be well to give it the name of Beartown, and to say that it numbered some five hundred inhabitants. Although its main interest was with the highway alluded to, yet it had considerable trade with the river, up and down which boats of different tonnage steamed, sailed or rowed during the day, and occasionally at night. A well-marked road led from a wharf to the village. Over this freight was drawn to and fro in wagons, and some of the less important steamers halted for passengers who liked that way of going up or down stream.
Alvin and Chester thought it better not to stop at the public wharf, where they were likely to be in the way of larger craft and might draw unpleasant attention to themselves, while engaged in repairing the launch. Accordingly, the latter timidly approached the land, several hundred yardsbelow the wharf. The water possessed that wonderful clearness which is one of its beautiful peculiarities in Maine. The boat was far out when the change was made in her course, but she had not gone far when, looking over the side, the dark, rocky bottom was plainly seen fully thirty feet below. There was slight decrease in this depth until the boat was within a few yards of land. Even then, it must have been twenty feet at least, the bottom sloping as abruptly from the shore as the roof of a house. Consequently the approach was safe and easy.
In such favorable conditions there was no difficulty in laying the launch near the bank, where, as in former instances, she was made fast by the bow line looped around a sturdy spruce more than six inches in diameter, and the anchor out over the stern. Chester tied the knot securely, and stepped back to give what help he could to Alvin, who was busy with the engine. Mike looked on and remarked that, although he knew nothing at all about the various contraptions, he held himselfready to give valuable advice whenever it was needed.
“Being as mesilf ain’t indispinsable just now, ’spose I strolls up to the city nixt door and make a few more new acquaintances.”
“There is no objection to that,” replied the Captain, “but be sure to come back before dark.”
Mike sprang lightly to land and set off on his journey of discovery. It will be recalled that our friends were some distance from the highway connecting the wharf and town and therefore he had to thread his way among the trees to reach the direct route to the village. There was no trouble in doing this: the trouble came afterward.
Alvin and Chester gave the lad no thought, for he surely was old enough to take care of himself, and there was nothing in the situation to cause any misgiving. Their ambition was to get the engine of the launch in shape. With painstaking care and the expenditure of more time than was expected, Alvin finally discovered thatthe heat of the exhaust pipe was due to the clogging of the pump with weeds, and not to the lack of lubrication or the retarding of the spark.
To the disgust of both, when a test was made with the launch still held immovable, and the heating was overcome, explosions in the muffler developed.
“Now we must find whether that is caused by a cylinder missing fire and pumping the gas into the muffler.”
“How will that do it?” asked Chester, who, while a good motor boat pilot, possessed less practical knowledge than his chum.
“The charges which I spoke of are ignited from the heat of the next exhausted charge. It may be the exhaust valve is stuck or does not seat properly, or the gas mixture is too weak to fire in the cylinder, or the spark may be insufficient or over-retarded. It is a job to get that straightened out, and when that is done, perhaps something else will turn up, but we may as well tackle it at once.”
It was fully dark before the difficultywas remedied by a careful readjustment of the carburettor. Repeated tests were made, and everything found to be right.
“At last!” said Alvin, with a sigh of relief. “And now we are ready to go home. But where is Mike?”
CHAPTER XAt Beartown
Alvin Landon had been toiling so long, often in a stooping posture, that he was tired. He sat down on one of the seats and his chum placed himself opposite.
“I’m mighty glad,” said the Captain, “for a fellow can’t do much of this in the dark, and I was bothered a good deal as it was.”
“It strikes me that you will be running into danger by going down the river to-night.”
“How?”
“There is no moon until late. Suppose the launch should break down when we were well out in Sheepscot Bay, wouldn’t we be in a fix?”
“Yes, but I hope she is through breaking down for some time to come.”
“So do I, but why take the risk, when there’s no necessity for it?”
“We aren’t fixed to sleep on board, though we could do it in a pinch, for the weather is mild.”
“Let’s go up to this village or town near by. I am sure we shall get accommodations for the night. Truth to tell, Alvin, I’m as hungry as I was at dinner to-day in Wiscasset.”
“The plan is a good one, though I don’t like to leave the boat by itself till morning. You know what happened the other night.”
“That won’t occur again in a thousand years. Put the flags and other stuff in the cockpit, lock the engine cover, take the switch plug with you, and the boat will be as safe as if she had a regiment of men on guard.”
“Mike ought to have been back before this,” said the Captain, with a touch of impatience. “Unless he has a good excuse I shall demote him, by making you first mate.”
“It is a dazzling promise you hold before me, but it won’t be fair to condemn Mike unheard. Give him a chance.”
After some hesitation, Alvin acted upon the advice of his comrade. The launch was made as secure as possible, and they sprang ashore, where the gloom among the trees reminded them of that other tramp after taking supper with Uncle Ben Trotwood. There was no reason for going astray and they followed a direct course until they reached the roadway between the wharf and the village of Beartown, alongside the main road running the length of the island of Westport.
The moon had not yet risen; in fact it would not be up for several hours, but the sky was clear and studded with stars which shone with dazzling brilliancy. They could plainly see the broad trail into which they turned and walked toward the village.
Less than a score of paces were passed when the two caught sight of a figure approaching through the obscurity. The person kept in the middle of the road, and an instant later both recognized him as their comrade.
“Hands up!” called the Captain, in his most startling voice.
Mike stopped short, but made no motion to obey.
“Didn’t you hear me?” demanded Alvin fiercely, as he strode forward with the grinning Chester at his elbow.
“If ye’ll be kind enough to spell out the words I’ll think ’em over and let ye know me decision to-morrer,” replied the Irish youth, who knew the voice, though the speaker screened himself as much as he could in the shadow at the side of the highway. The parties met and shook hands.
“What kept you so long?” asked Chester.
“I spint the time in making acquaintances, and before I knowed it, night had descinded. I ’spose there’s about two thousand folks in Beartown as they call it, and I know ’em all excipt two or three, the same being out of town.”
“It is so late,” said the Captain, “that we have decided to stay here overnight—that is, if we can get lodgings.”
“Arrah, now, that’s a sinsible remark which I ixpicted ye to make, as Arty Devitt said whin he admitted he was thebiggest fool in Cork. But there ain’t a hotel in Beartown.”
“Then we shall have to go back to the boat and either start down the river or bunk in as best we can.”
“Nothing of the kind; supper is waiting and ye’re expicted. The house has only one bed, which av coorse is fur me, while ye two will have to make shift in the adj’ining woodshed. Come on and I’ll show ye.”
“Be sensible for once in your life,” said Alvin, “and explain matters.”
“Isn’t that what I’m doing?” asked Mike, as he turned about and the three walked toward the sleepy little town.
“I’ve made frinds wid the postmaster, which is a fine old lady with a swaat darter. She has spread supper for us three, and whin I told her we’d honor her by staying overnight, she was that pleased she danced the Highland Fling and kicked over a barrel of apples. And what do ye think, byes, after we’d talked awhile, we found we was relatives. What have ye to say to that?”
“It is impossible. What’s her name?”
“Mrs. Friestone and her daughter is Nora. It was that name that set me wits to work. Ye see the leddy thinks—that is, after I suggisted the same—that one of her ancistors about the time St. Patrick was driving the snakes out of Ireland was living there, and immigrated to this country and he come over wid the ither sarpints.”
“St. Patrick died fifteen hundred years ago,” said Chester.
“Thin I ’spose he must be purty dead by this time, but that isn’t aginst the fact of the father of Mrs. Friestone, two or three thousand ginerations back, paddling across the Atlantic and sittling in this part of Maine. I have raison to belave that one of me own ancisters was a second cousin to the owld gintleman and came wid him on the v’yage. The owld lady doesn’t dispoot me, but is inclined to belave the same.”
“But where do we come in?” asked Alvin.
“That was me chaif trouble in gitting ye folks straightened out. Av coorse, I made it clear to them that I owned alaunch, which the same is called theDeerfut, and I had took ye out fur a sail—that I had left ye to thry to run the boat, in order to taich ye the same, and ye had broke down. I said ye were half dacent chaps, and if she would bear in mind that ye hadn’t been under me training long, she would be able to git along wid ye. Nora said I must bring ye to the house, and ye should have slaaping accommodations and as much as folks of yer kind oughter ate. I reminded them that I had provided ye with plinty of pocket money and insthructed ye niver to accept favors widout paying for ’em. Thus the way has been opened for ye.”
“So it would seem, if a tenth part of what you say is true,” was the comment of Alvin.
The village, which I have thought best to call Beartown, straggles along both sides of the highway which runs the length of Westport island. It has a neat wooden church, a faded school house, which had been closed several weeks, it being vacation time, two stores, a blacksmith and a carpentershop, but lacks a hotel, no one being enterprising enough to build such a structure with the meagre prospects he would have to face. If now and then some visitor wished to stay overnight in the place it depended upon his success in finding lodgings with one of the citizens. This could not always be done, but it is safe to say that Mike Murphy won the favor of so many with whom he came in contact that a half dozen homes would have been glad to take him in indefinitely. Strolling along the highway, his attention was caught by sight of a modest frame building, standing near the middle of the village with the sign in small letters “Post Office” over the front porch, which was crowded with samples of what were for sale at the store.
Entering the open door, he asked in his most suave manner if there was a letter for “Michael Murphy, lately from Tipperary.” The thin old lady in spectacles behind the counter, at the front, pulled the half dozen missives from the pigeon hole over which the letter “M” showedand slowly inspected each. She gently shook her head:
“It doesn’t seem to have arrived; probably it will come in the next mail.”
Mike’s genial face became the picture of disappointment.
“That’s mighty qu’ar. The Duke promised he would write me two waaks ago from his castle and return the five pounds I loaned him. Ye can’t thrust the nobility.”
“I am sorry,” said the sympathetic postmistress, “but I don’t see how I can help you. Have patience and all will come right.”
“Don’t think it’s yersilf I’m blaming, though onraisoning folks are inclined that way. The matter of a little money doesn’t consarn me, but it’s the aboose of me confidence.”
Just then a man came in to inquire for a letter, and the sweet looking old lady was obliged to withdraw her attention from the freckled face before her.
During this brief interview a girl not yet out of short dresses stood behind the counter, measuring out some calico for awoman in a scoop shovel-bonnet. The girl’s face was as mirthful as Mike’s, and her black eyes twinkled with mischief. She heard all that was said, and read the youth like a book. He looked more at her than at her mother, and could not help being pleased with the lively young lady. Never at loss for an excuse in such circumstances, he waited at the front of the store, sighing as if greatly depressed, until the woman customer paid her bill, accepted the roll and walked out. Then Mike, blushing so far as it was possible to do so, moved respectfully toward the smiling attraction.
“I lost me wheelbarrer in coming up from me launch; have ye anything of the kind ye would be willing to sell to a poor orphan?”
“Will one be all you want?” asked the miss. “We can furnish you with a dozen as well as a single barrow. How much would you like to pay?”
Mike was caught. He had taken a comprehensive survey of the display outside the store before entering, and wassure that only the simplest agricultural implements were on sale. Furthermore, he had less than a silver dollar in his pockets.
“I’ll have to wait to consoolt me partners,” he replied, while nature did her best to deepen the blush on his broad countenance. “Ye see it’s them that has to do the work fur me, and it’s only fair on me side to let them have something to say about the ch’ice of tools. What do ye think yersilf?”
“I think you haven’t any wish to buy a wheelbarrow, that you haven’t the money to pay for it, and I know we haven’t one in the store—so I think further that there won’t be any sale so far as wheelbarrows are concerned.”
CHAPTER XIAt the Post Office in Beartown
Although Mike Murphy rarely got the worst of it in a bout at repartee, he had the true sporting instinct and liked the winner because of his victory. It took a bright person to beat him, but it did happen now and then, and he enjoyed a clash of wits with one who proved his master, though in the long run the youth generally came out ahead.
When, therefore, the girl in the post office at Beartown snapped out the remark just printed, he was roused to admiration. He threw back his head and the store rang with his infectious laughter.
“Begorra! ye were too much for me that time. If ye’ll not think me impudent, I beg the privilege of shaking hands wid ye.”
The merry sprite, laughing almost as heartily as he, though with less noise, reached a dainty hand across the counter and he grasped it. From behind the rackat the front of the store, the gentle mother beamed with a smile. She had heard and understood it all.
“I am afraid, Nora, you were rude to the gentleman,” she said in her silvery voice.
“Not a bit!” was the hearty response of Mike. “I got it that time where the chicken got the axe—which the same is in the neck. It was a fair hit and I desarved more, though no one could give it to me.”
It may be said that this little incident fixed Mike in the favor of mother and daughter. It was hard to resist the rollicking good nature of the Irish youth, who was equally impressed by the gentle goodness of the mother and the sprightly wit of the daughter. He now called a halt with his nonsense and gave a true account of the situation. His two companions were the sons of wealthy parents and one of them owned a beautiful motor launch which broke down while descending the river from Wiscasset. He had left the two trying to tinker it in shape, but had doubtsof their success. In case they failed, it would be very pleasing to them if they could get supper and lodging in Beartown. Would the good woman advise them where to apply?
She replied that she would be glad to meet their wants, though they would be disappointed with the poor meals and lodging, for she knew they must be accustomed to much better. This was the invitation for which Mike was angling and he promptly accepted, assuring the woman that it was a fine piece of good fortune which more than repaid them for the disabling of their engine.
“They may repair it and go home,” suggested Nora.
“That will make no difference, for I sha‘n’t return to them till night comes and then they’ll have no ch’ice.”
“They may not wait for you,” said Nora.
“Little fear of their laving widout me, so nothing will be done till I arrive, as Brian O’Lynn said when he was walking forth to be hanged.”
With no other purpose in mind than to force his friends to stay over night in the village, Mike Murphy loitered. When the mother and daughter were not engaged with customers he entertained them by his quaint remarks, which kept the smile on their faces. He had seated himself, on the invitation of Nora, in a chair at the rear of the store, where he was in no one’s way and where he could make use of his eyes. Thus it came about that he observed several interesting facts.
Mrs. Friestone and Nora made up the whole force of the store, which did a considerable trade in groceries and articles such as a village community needs. Furthermore, the abundant and excellent stock showed that the owner was not only enterprising but understood her business. The other store in Beartown hardly rose to the dignity of a rival.
It may as well be said at this point that her husband, who had been dead six years, went through the whole war for the Union and was badly wounded several times. President Grant personally complimentedCaptain Friestone for his bravery in battle, and when he became President appointed him as postmaster at Beartown. He suffered so grievously from his old wounds that the small post office and his pension were all that saved him and his young wife from actual want. He took up storekeeping in a small way, gradually branching out until he had established a flourishing business, whereupon he did an almost unheard of thing. As soon as he knew his future was secure, he notified the government that he would no longer accept a pension and he stuck to the resolution.
The veteran was retained in office by the successors of President Grant until his death, when the appointment was given to his widow, not a member of the community asking for a change. The income was meagre, but the widow had become accustomed to the duties, having performed them during the last years of her husband’s life, and she liked the work. The store paid so well that it more than met the wants of the two.
When the cheering thousands welcomedthe soldiers returning from the war, a proud father held his little girl on his shoulder and she waved her hand joyously to the bronzed heroes some of whom were still little more than boys. One laughing soldier snatched away the child and kissed her. He was Captain Friestone and the girl was Bessie Elton. The acquaintance thus begun ripened until the time arrived for her to put on long dresses, and by and by she became the happy bride of the officer, and never a shadow darkened their hearthstone until Death called and took away the brave husband and father.
Mike noticed that a massive safe stood behind the counter in a corner at the rear of the store. The ponderous door was open, for mother and daughter had frequent cause to use the repository. Within the steel structure all the stamps, government funds and daily cash receipts were deposited at the close of the day’s business. The value of these was slight, but the safe contained a great deal more. While Nora was lighting the five kerosene lamps, suspended on brackets at favorable points inthe store, a middle aged and somewhat corpulent man bustled in, nodded to the widow and handed her a large sealed envelope. Mike heard him say, “Twenty-five hundred,” and she replied “Very well.” It was evident that he had brought in that amount of money and left if for security with her. On the back of the envelope—though of course the youth did not see this—was written in a large, round hand, “C. Jasper, $2500.”
The widow walked to the rear of the store, drew out one of the small central drawers of the safe and placed the big envelope in it, still leaving the heavy door open, though the little drawer was locked with a tiny key.
Five minutes later, a second man, thin, nervous and alert, stepped through the door, glanced sharply around and passed a similar envelope to the woman. On the back of it was written, “G. H. Kupfer—$1250.”
“You will please give me a receipt,” he said in his brisk fashion. The reply was gentle:
“I cannot do that.”
“Why not? It’s simple business.”
“Mr. Kupfer, because you have more faith in my safe than in your small one, you bring your money to me. I have not asked it; I should rather not have it, and I do it only to accommodate you, besides which I charge you nothing. If burglars should break in and steal your money, I cannot be responsible. Do I make that clear to you?”
“Why, Mrs. Friestone, I have no fear of that sort; I only ask that you give me a receipt merely as a matter of record and to save you possible annoyance. Suppose anything should happen to me—such as my death—my folks would be put to great trouble to get this money.”
“That cannot possibly occur, for your name and the amount are written on the sealed envelope; I know every member of your family, and in the event you speak of I should hand it personally to some one of them. On no other condition will I take your money for safe keeping. Follow your own pleasure.”
“Oh, well,” replied the caller, with a nervous laugh, “have it as you please. I have left money with you before and haven’t suffered. But say——”
As the keen eyes flitted around the store, he saw Mike Murphy sitting under one of the lamps and looking as if he was not listening to their conversation. Mr. Kupfer leaned over the counter and lowered his voice:
“Who is he?”
“A young gentleman.”
“I don’t like his looks.”
“Then I advise you not to look at him,” was the reply.
“How long is he going to hang round the store?”
“Just so long as it suits his pleasure to do so. He and two of his friends are going to take supper and stay overnight with us.”
“Do you know anything about the two?”
“I have never seen them, and I never saw this young gentleman till this afternoon.”
The caller turned his face and scanned Mike more closely. The youth, who wasboiling with anger, tried to look as if unaware of the insulting action.
“Please hand that package back,” said Mr. Kupfer, with a compression of his thin lips.
Without a word, the widow passed the envelope to the man, who whisked through the open door, fairly leaping off the porch to the dusty path.
Who shall describe the emotions of Mike Murphy during these exasperating moments? He recalled the experience of Alvin and Chester, as they related it to him, when they were arrested as post office robbers some days before, and now something similar in essence had come to him. But what could he do? He would have liked to pummel the one who had insulted him, but that was impracticable, inasmuch as he had not addressed any words to the youth.
While he was fuming and glaring at the door through which the man had disappeared, Mike heard a soft chuckle behind him. He whisked his head around and saw Nora standing beside the safe justback of him, stuffing her handkerchief in her mouth and with her face almost as crimson as his own.
“If I may be so bowld I should like to know what ye are laughing at,” said Mike, who could feel no resentment toward the merry young miss.
“We both heard what he said,” she replied as soon as she could command her voice.
“Being I faal like a firecracker that has jest been teched off, I suspict I caught his loving remarks consarning mesilf.”
“Will you tell me something truly—upon your word of honor—take your dying oath?”
“That I will, ye may depind upon the same.”
“Are you a real post office robber?”