CHAPTER XX“I Piped and Ye Danced”
Gerald Buxton was boiling over with indignation when he parted company with Mike Murphy and realized how he had been tricked. He had allowed the real burglar to get away while he held up his innocent pursuer.
“All I ask is one sight of that villain!” he muttered, striking into a lope which carried him rapidly over the ground. Since the fugitive had disappeared several minutes before and there was no telling what course he had taken, it would seem there was not one chance in a hundred of Buxton ever seeing him again.
But, although the citizen had been cleverly hoodwinked, he used shrewdness in wrestling with the problem. As he viewed it, the fellow was likely to make for the stretch of woods between Beartown and the river, that he might screen himself as quickly as possible. He would lose no time in gettingaway from the village as soon as he could. It was quite probable that he and his gang had come up or down the river and had a launch awaiting them. To avoid going astray, he would use the highway which joined Beartown and the landing.
Mr. Buxton had to climb three fences before he reached an open field of slight extent, beyond which lay the woods. He knew the chances of overtaking the criminal were meagre, but with a thrill of delight he caught sight of his man only a little way in front and walking in the same direction with himself. He seemed to have sprung from the ground, and it was clear that he had no thought of further pursuit. His follower tried to get nearer to him before he reached the woods, but the fellow heard him and glancing over his shoulder broke into a run.
“Stop or I’ll fire!” shouted Buxton.
After the young man’s experience with his first pursuer and his Springfield, he could not be blamed for refusing to heed the command. He ran the faster and the next minute would have whisked beyond reach,had not Buxton come to an abrupt halt, and taking a quick aim, fired.
He got his man too. With a cry of pain he leaped several feet in the air and fell. Terrified by what he had done, Buxton ran forward, gun in hand, and called out while several paces distant:
“Are you hurt bad?”
“I’m done for,” was the reply as the wounded fellow laboriously climbed to his feet.
With anger turned into sympathy, the captor asked:
“Where did I hit you?”
“You shattered my right leg,” was the reply, accompanied by groans as the fellow with excruciating effort tried to support himself on the other limb.
Buxton laid down his weapon and knelt to examine the wound. He saw now that the lower part of the trousers leg was shredded by the charge of shot and that, doubtless, the hurt was a very grievous one.
“I’m sorry I gave it to you so bad, but you can’t deny you desarved it. If you’reable to walk back to my house, with my help, I’ll get a doctor and we’ll soon——”
At that instant the young man sprang back a couple of paces, and the startled Buxton looking up saw that he stood firmly on both feet, with the shotgun pointed at him. He had snatched up the weapon while the owner was stooping over to inspect the wound.
“Now it’smyturn!” he said, with a chuckle. “It isn’t your fault that you didn’t kill me, and it will be my fault if I don’t even matters up with you!”
Poor Buxton slowly came to the upright position, with jaws dropping and eyes staring. He could only mumble:
“W-w-what’s the matter?”
“Nothing with me; it’syouthat’s in a hole.”
Believing it was all up with him, the terrified victim stood mute.
“I ought to shoot you down and I’ll do so if you don’t obey me.”
“W-w-what do you want?” Buxton managed to stammer out.
“Dance!” was the crisp command.
The citizen stared, not comprehending the order.
“We cowboys in the West when we want a little fun make a tenderfoot dance while we fire our revolvers at his feet. BEGIN!”
The victim lowered the point of the gun so as to point it at the shoes of Mr. Buxton.
“I—I—can’t dance; never done it in my life,” he stuttered.
“Can’t begin earlier. Start up!”
Knowing what was ordered, the victim obeyed. He leaped up and down, shuffled his feet and made such comical antics that the gun wabbled in the hands of the laughing master of the situation.
“I have one loaded barrel left and I’m aching to let you have it! Keep it up!”
Now that he had started, Mr. Buxton threw more vigor into his steps. He bounded in the air, side-stepped, kicked out his feet, tried a number of fancy movements of which he knew nothing, and acted like an energetic youth taking his first lessons in that branch of the terpsichorean art called buck dancing.
“Turn your back toward me and danceall the way home! If you let up for one minute or look around I’ll blaze away, and you won’t get the charge in yourfeet! Remember that!”
Mr. Buxton reflected that having left home so jauntily with loaded weapon over his shoulder, it would be anything but a dignified return to dance back again without it. If he jig-stepped down the main street some neighbor was likely to see him and make remarks. A waltz through the gate, up the steps of the porch and into the hall, by which time it would probably be safe for him to cease his exhausting performance, would undoubtedly cause annoying inquiries on the part of his wife and family.
But there was hope. He might gain a start that would make it safe to resume his natural gait. He did his best. Facing the boundary fence less than two hundred yards away he kicked up his heels, swung his arms in unison, and steadily drew away from that fearful form standing with gun levelled at him. He yearned to break into a run, but dared not. He believed his tormentorwas following so as to keep him in range.
It was hardly to be expected that he should go over the fence with a dance step, but he reflected that he could resume his labors immediately he dropped to the ground on the other side and faithfully maintain it to the next boundary. But there was risk and he was afraid to incur it. While still shifting his feet with an energy that caused him to breathe fast, he approached the obstruction. Partly turning his head while toiling as hard as ever, he called:
“I’ll have to stop a minute till I climb over, but I’ll resoom dancing as soon as I hit the ground on the other side agin. Is that all right?”
There was no reply and he repeated the question in a louder voice. Still hearing nothing, he ventured to look back. The young man was nowhere in sight. Truth to tell, no sooner had Mr. Buxton begun his humorous exhibition than the youth, vainly trying to suppress his mirth, flung down the gun, turned about and entered the woodtoward which he was running when so abruptly checked by his pursuer.
“Wal, I’ll be hanged!” was the disgusted exclamation of the panting Buxton. “That’s the meanest trick I ever had played on me. The scand’lous villain oughter be hung. What a sight I made! I’m mighty glad no one seen me.”
In his relief, he did not notice a vague form which flitted along the edge of the wood, so close to the trees that the shadow screened it from clear view. Had Mr. Buxton noted it he might not have felt certain that no one witnessed his unrivalled performance.
He was so tired out from his tremendous efforts that he stood awhile mopping his moist forehead with his handkerchief while he regained his wind.
“It’s lucky he didn’t foller and make me dance all the way home. Never could have done it. Would have dropped dead, I am that blamed tired.”
He leaned against the fence while recovering from his unwonted exercise. Naturally he believed the young man who hadused him so ill had carried away his weapon beyond possibility of recovery.
“And I paid twenty-five dollars for it in Portland,” he bitterly mused. “It looks to me that as a hunter of post office robbers I ain’t of much account.”
He resumed his walk homeward, going slowly, carefully climbing the obstructions in his path and studying what explanation to make to his friends for the loss of his valuable piece. He might manage it with all except his wife and son. It would not do to tell them he had dropped it somewhere along the road without noticing the accident. A boy might lose his pocketknife (I know of a youngster who lost a wheelbarrow and never found it again), but a double barreled shotgun manifestly could not disappear in that fashion so much out of the ordinary way of things.
“I think I’ll have a look at the post office and larn what mischief the villain done there.”
He veered in his course and came to the back window, where a light showed that some persons were gathered. He foundmother, daughter and the three boys, who gave him warm greeting.
“Was that your gun we heard a little while ago?” asked the woman.
“I reckon it must have been,” replied Mr. Buxton, who declined the invitation to enter and remained standing outside the window.
“Did you hit the burglar?” asked Alvin.
“Young man,” said Mr. Buxton loftily, “when I fire at anything Ialwayshit it.”
“You didn’t kill him, Gerald!” exclaimed the horrified mother.
“No; I just winged him so he won’t forget it if he lives a thousand years; don’t like to kill a scamp even if he is a burglar.”
“Where’s your gun?” continued Alvin.
The man glanced around as if it were hidden somewhere about his garments.
“Now isn’t that a fine go?” he exclaimed disgustedly. “I set it down while I went forward to see how bad that feller was hit, and plumb forgot.”
“O dad, here’s your gun!”
It was the son Jim who called this greeting as he straddled forward with the heavypiece resting on his shoulder. All stared in amazement, and the father in his confusion was imprudent enough to ask:
“Where did you get it?”
“I seen that feller that took it away from you and made you dance all the way across the field. He throwed it down and went into the woods. When I seen you hopping and dancing and kicking up your heels I nearly died a-larfing. But I didn’t forgit the gun, and run along the edge of the woods and picked it up. Gee! it’s heavy! But, dad, I didn’t know you could dance like that. Say——”
“You young rascal, didn’t I tell you to stay home? I’ll larn you!”
The parent made a dive at his son, who, with the gun still over his shoulder, scooted across the yard and over the fence, with his irate father in fierce pursuit.
CHAPTER XXIHow It Was Done
The attempt to rob the safe in the Beartown post office was accompanied by more than one unique incident. Chief among these was the cowardice exhibited by two of the three members who composed the little band of lawbreakers.
It has been shown that the full-grown man with a big mustache acted as a lookout at the front, which is perhaps the safest post for a criminal in such circumstances, since he has a good chance to get away on the first approach of danger. A second lookout was placed at the rear. After-developments showed that the trio was headed by Kit Woodford, the adult member, who had led a life of crime since boyhood and had served a term in prison. He would have been more successful as a criminal except for his rank cowardice which caused him to be despised and cast out by severalgangs with which he sought to connect himself.
The other two burglars were Orestes Noxon and Graff Miller, neither of whom had reached his majority by more than two years. It was Miller who took his station at the rear, where on the first sign of something amiss he sneaked off without giving the signal which would have warned Noxon in time to flee unharmed. In his way, he was as lacking in personal courage as Kit Woodford. The latter held his place until the racket caused by Mike Murphy’s tumble downstairs apprised him that things were not going right. He ventured upon a single timid whistle, which no one else heard, and then slunk down the road, hugging the shadows and intent only on saving his own bacon.
How was it that young Noxon was assigned the most perilous task of all, when in reality he was the youngest of the three? It was due to a peculiar skill which neither of the others possessed. He proved more than once that he could take position in front of an ordinary safe—not the mostmodern kind—and by a wonderfully deft manipulation of the knob which governed the combination tell by the fall of the tumblers just when the index struck the right numerals. He demonstrated this power many times when all others who made the trial failed. He asked simply to be left undisturbed with his ear against the steel door as he turned the knob with infinite delicacy. He was proud of his ability in this respect, and when Kit Woodford gave him the post of peril he accepted it as a compliment and eagerly essayed the task.
Although there is no evidence on the point, it is quite sure that Kit Woodford, whose chief business was to spy out the land, knew that several wealthy citizens of Beartown made a practice of leaving large deposits with Mrs. Friestone overnight or for several nights and days. It is not to be supposed that Woodford would rob so insignificant a post office for the small booty that belonged to the government. Quite likely he was aware of the large sum left with her on the afternoon before.
But Mike Murphy’s original style of descending the back stairs brought the schemes of the criminals to naught, and saved the safe from spoliation. I have told how the three criminals scattered to as many different points of the compass. They could not have come together again had not previous provision been made for such emergencies. The leader, having shaken himself clear of the village, turned into the wood and picked his way toward the river. He was to the north, however, while the other lookout, Miller, was to the south, and neither knew how far apart they were.
There seemed little risk in signalling, and after Woodford had gone half way to the river he paused among the shadows and listened. He had been startled by the report of the gun, but everything was now still. Placing his thumb and forefinger between his lips, he emitted a sharp, tremulous whistle, which was instantly answered by a similar call from some point not far off. A few minutes later he and Miller, after a few precautions, came together among the shadows.
“I knew you would be somewhere in the neighborhood,” was the young man’s explanation, “and I was listening for your signal.”
“Well,” growled the elder, “Noxon made a mess of it to-night.”
“It looks that way.”
“Do you know what happened? Did you see anything?”
“I saw him dash out from the rear of that store with someone chasing him with a loaded gun.”
“That must have been what we heard a little while ago. Looks as if they got Nox.”
“Shouldn’t be surprised,” remarked the other indifferently.
“He oughter managed things better. How was it you didn’t warn him?”
“I did; I whistled twice the instant I saw his danger, and ran the risk of getting it in the neck myself,” was the unblushing response of the youth.
“I don’t see that there’s anything we can do for him. He got himself in a hole through his own foolishness and must pull himself out. My motto when a gang gets into trouble is that every one must look outfor himself and the devil take the hindmost.”
“I say, Kit,” said Miller, lowering his voice as if fearful of being overheard, “do you think they’ll get Nox?”
“Haven’t a doubt of it.”
“I say, do you think there’s any danger of his squealing, that is, if he hasn’t been killed?”
“Naw,” was the disgusted reply. “Nox is game—true blue; you can bet on him till the cows come home.”
Which was more than Nox could say about his two pals.
Kit Woodford may have spoken with confidence, but he was not as free from misgivings as he would have it appear. He could not feel sure of their missing companion. If the report which they had heard did not mean that he had been slain, his capture looked certain, and there was no saying what he might do to secure leniency. Kit knew whathewould do in a similar situation.
“Well, come on,” he growled. “We’re in tough luck to-night.”
And the two pushed their way among the trees in the direction of the river.
Meantime, matters remained interesting at the home of Widow Friestone. The words of young Jim Buxton told a graphic story which made even Nora laugh and forget for the time the frightful excitement they had passed through. When the merriment had partly subsided, Mike drew one of his remaining two quarters from his pocket and handed it to Nora.
“Will ye do me the kindness to presint that to Jim when he comes to the store in the morning to set the table on the front porch?”
“What’s that for?” asked the puzzled girl.
“For the gayety he imparted to this gloomy avening. I don’t know as ye need say that to him, for he wouldn’t understand what ye meant until after three or four years of hard thought. But he’s airned it, and ye’ll not forgit.”
She laid the coin aside and assured the donor that his wishes should be carried out.
Chester spoke:
“It seems to me we are throwing away time. It is past midnight and here we sit talking, and doing nothing because there seems nothing to do. What do you think, Alvin?”
“You are right. This business doesn’t seem to have stirred up the town. I don’t suppose anyone knows what has happened except Mr. Buxton and his family, and I don’t think he will tell the particulars himself.”
“That can be lift to Jim,” said Mike, “onless his dad imprisses upon him that it won’t be healthy for him to talk too freely wid his mouth regarding the sarcus he obsarved this avening.”
“The lookout in front ran off at the first sign of danger, and if there was a second one he ran too. It will be a long time before any member of that party pays Beartown a second visit.”
Alvin now made known the fear in his mind—a fear that was shared by Chester. TheDeerfootwas lying against the bank in Back River exposed to any injury whichthese criminals might choose to inflict by way of revenge. He proposed that the mother and daughter, after refastening the window and locking up, should retire to their beds, while the boys returned to the launch to make sure no harm befell it.
This course was only the commonest prudence, but the hostess and her daughter were clearly so nervous over being left alone for the remainder of the night that Alvin regretted his proposal. Nora especially did not try to hide her distress.
“Never mind,” Alvin made haste to say, “we will wait till morning. You have been so kind that we cannot willingly cause you a moment’s pain.”
“May I make a suggistion?” asked Mike, speaking so seriously that all knew he was about to say something worth while.
“I know he’s going to tell us the right thing,” said Nora.
“How could I do itherwise wid yer bright eyes cheering me?” he asked, with his expansive grin. “The same is this: Do ye two spalpeens go down to the launch and stay there till morning while I remain behindwid the misthress and sweet Nora, and keep off the burglars wid that same gun that sarved me so well.”
Only Alvin and Chester knew the chivalry of this proposal. Mike regretted keenly the separation from them, even though it promised to be for only a few hours.
“That is asking too much,” said the widow, though her countenance brightened with pleasure.
“How can the same be asking too much whin ye haven’t asked it?”
Nora clapped her hands.
“I can’t hilp it if she looks upon mesilf as worth the two of ye,” said Mike, with an assumption of dignity that deceived no one.
“It is good on your part, Mike,” said Alvin. “I feel as if we ought to give attention to the boat, and you may as well stay here. We’ll wait for you in the morning.”
“Don’t feel obleeged to do the same. Something may turn up that may cause ye to hurry off. If it be so, don’t tarry a minute for me.”
“Possibly you may prove right, but we shall hate to leave you behind.”
“Ye may do so foriver, so long as I have such quarters as these.”
With this understanding, the friends parted, no one dreaming of what was to befall them before all met again.
CHAPTER XXIIA Startling Discovery
Nothing was more natural than that Alvin Landon and Chester Haynes should be concerned for the safety of the motor launchDeerfoot. It had been stolen from them once in simple wantonness by two young men who had nothing to do with the post office robberies. The motive for a similar theft was now much stronger. It was evident that the criminals had come to Beartown, or as near to it as they could come, by water, and their boat was somewhere in the neighborhood. They were likely to discover theDeerfoot, if they had not already done so, and knowing its superior speed, would either make use of or disable it so it could not be employed for pursuit.
Alvin and Chester kept to the road which connected the landing with the village, for it was much easier thus to advance than to pick their way through the pines and firs.They did not meet a solitary person, for the night was well along and daybreak near. When the rickety frame work loomed up in the moonlight, they turned off into the shadow of the wood and moved with the utmost care. All the time they kept within sight of the gleam of water. Alvin was in advance, with his comrade close upon his heels.
“Hello! here she is!” was the pleased exclamation of the Captain a few minutes later.
“Has she had any visitors while we were away?” asked Chester, as the two stepped down to the margin of the river.
“I see no signs of it, but we shall have to examine further.”
The launch lay as close to shore as it had been possible to bring her—so close indeed that the two stepped aboard without use of a plank. The position of the moon in the sky was such that the shadow of the trees was cast several feet beyond the boat, which, as a consequence, was wrapped in obscurity. Peering here and there, the youths began a visual search for the evidencethey did not wish to find. Alvin tried the covering, which had been drawn over the cockpit, preliminary to taking the bunch of keys from his pocket. It slid back easily.
“I thought I locked that,” he said in surprise.
“I remember you went through the motions, but you must have missed it.”
“So it seems.”
He stepped over, seated himself and grasped the steering wheel.
“Nothing is wrong here——”
“Hark!” whispered Chester.
The two listened and heard the muffled exhaust of a launch not far off.
“It comes from down stream,” said Chester.
“It’s their boat!” exclaimed the excited Alvin. “They are hurrying off.”
“Let’s chase them!” added Chester, catching the glow of his chum.
“All right! Light up and cast off.”
Like a Swallow Skimming Close to the Surface.
Like a Swallow Skimming Close to the Surface.
Chester quickly fixed the lights, sprang from the taffrail to shore, untied the loop of rope, flung it on deck and leaped after it.Alvin had opened the forward deck, which covered the engine, climbed down and around to the front and started it. Then throwing in the clutch the boat quickly caught the impulse, and the Captain steered away from shore. While lying against the bank the nose of the launch was pointed up the river, and since the noise showed that the other boat was speeding down stream, it was necessary to head in that direction. The sweeping circle carried the craft far out into the moon glow and the Captain turned on full power, sending the boat southward like a swallow skimming close to the surface.
“They got the idea yesterday that theWater Witchis faster than theDeerfoot. That was a cute idea of Calvert, but they will soon learn their mistake. Do you see anything of her lights?”
Chester stood beside him in the cockpit, with one hand grasping the top of the wind-shield, while he peered into the sea of illumination through which they were plunging.
“Not yet,” he answered “but we must be gaining fast.”
The water curled over in a graceful half circle as it was split apart by the sharp prow. Some of the spray was scattered over him, though otherwise the river was as calm as a millpond. The tide was at its turn, so there was no current. Alvin held to the middle of the river, where he knew it was very deep, and he would have timely notice of every obstruction that could appear.
Now that the two were fairly started upon the singular chase, they had time to speculate as to its probable result. They had not a firearm on the boat nor had they ever had one aboard. They were chasing a party of criminals who were sure to be well armed. Suppose our young friends overtook them, what could they do?
Alvin had a dim idea that having drawn near enough to discover theWater Witch, he would keep in sight until others could intervene. His boat would follow whereever the fugitive dare lead, and would never give up. If our young friends could not attack, they could point out the way for others. Should the criminals run into shore, where there was a chance of landingwithout being observed, the pursuers could be at their heels, and through the nearest telegraph station raise the hue and cry that would quickly end in their overthrow.
“It is strange,” reflected Alvin, “that while we have not meant to have anything to do with those scamps we are continually running into them, while Detective Calvert, who is in this part of the world for that purpose, can’t put his hand on them. If he and his friend, whom we saw at Wiscasset, and who is an officer of the law also, were here, we should be sure of doing the right thing. As it is, it’s all guesswork.”
“Light ahead!” suddenly called Chester beside him.
“Where away?”
“Right ahead, but closer in shore on the left.”
Alvin leaned forward and gazed intently.
“You are right,” he added as he saw a white light low down on the water. “Now we’ll show those fellows what theDeerfootcan do when she tries.”
He flirted over the little lever controlling the power, and instantly the engine respondedso fiercely that the launch shivered from stem to stern. It bounded forward like a hound freed from the leash, the bow rising from the impulse, as if it would leap clear of the water, and seemingly shooting over it, like an iceboat driven in a hurricane.
But the launch in front was no laggard. Whether she increased her speed at sight of the light which was seemingly hustling down the river after her, or whether she simply held her former rate, she was going at a tremendous pace. Soon leaving Long Ledge on their right, the pursuer shot into the broader waters of Montsweag Bay, only to find the white light seemingly as far off as ever. Possibly the pursuers had gained something, but not enough to be perceptible.
“They have seen us,” said Chester, from his station at the front, “and are putting in their best licks. We must be going the limit.”
“That is twenty-four miles, but we’re not making it, Chester.”
The second mate pulled down his capmore snugly, for the motionless air was turned into a gale, and looked back.
“What do you mean? TheDeerfootis eating up water.”
“That may be, but she isn’t getting there as she ought to,” insisted Alvin, who, of course, was more familiar with his boat. “Something is the matter with her. She seems to be doing her best, and yet she lags.”
“Do you think it because of her trouble yesterday?”
“It must be, but I was sure she was shipshape when we left her last night. See whether we are gaining.”
Chester spent several minutes in studying the position and progress of that white light, which was gliding with swift smoothness over the water, and hugging the bank all the while. When he spoke it was doubtfully.
“Perhaps we have gained a little, say about six inches.”
Alvin groped about him for the binoculars, which he had left on the seat at his side. By turning the glass over when in use, one could avail himself of the night lens,which was helpful in the gloom. But he did not find it.
“That’s queer,” he muttered; “I am sure I laid it there. I wonder if anyone visited the boat while we were away.”
“By gracious!” called Chester from his station; “I believe she has stopped!”
“Make sure of it. I should think they would put out their stern light if they wanted to elude us.”
“Likely they don’t care. Yes; she has run into shore, where there seems to be some sort of landing.”
Alvin swung over the wheel so as to approach directly from the rear. Since the other boat had become motionless, he slackened speed to save the strain upon his own.
Everything was now in the vivid moonlight. The launch drew steadily up to the landing where the other boat had halted. Two men were observed moving about as if making ready to tie up for the remainder of the night. They showed no interest in their pursuers, and Alvin sheered off slightly so as to pass at a distance of severalrods, and while doing so he made an exasperating discovery.
The craft which he had been pursuing with so much zest was not theWater Witch, but a small runabout capable of high speed. The couple on board gave no attention to the larger craft, and the chagrined Alvin turned farther out into the bay and gradually headed up stream again. Chester came back from the front and chuckled:
“What a wild goose chase! The next thing to do is to make after theNahanadaor theGardiner. There will be as much sense in the one as the other.”
Observing the change of course, Chester inquired:
“Where to now?”
“We may as well go back and pick up Mike. It seems to be growing light in the east.”
“So it is; a memorable night in our experience is drawing to a close.”
“I say, Chester,” called the Captain, “I am sure someone was on this boat while we were away at Beartown.”
A sudden suspicion took form in his mind.
“Is there enough light for you to see the name on the bow?”
“Of course.”
“Take a look and tell me what it is.”
Chester carefully leaned over and studied the gilt letters painted on the right of the prow corresponding to those on the left. Then he straightened up with a gasp:
“As sure as I’m a living sinner it’s theWater Witch!”
CHAPTER XXIIIThrough the Fog
It was an astounding discovery.
With never a thought of the grotesque mistake, both youths had boarded the launch believing it to be theDeerfoot; they had pursued the imaginary fugitive only to awaken to the fact that she was not a fugitive, and that they had unconsciously stolen the property of the burglars, which must have been lying so near their own craft that the slight difference of location was not noticed.
Chester stepped down and seated himself at the elbow of his chum.
“Here are only four seats instead of six. Why didn’t we notice it before?”
“Because we were too much occupied with other things, or rather were both struck with blindness just then. As Mike would say, I’m completely flabbergasted.”
“And I’m with you. What’s to be done now?”
“Tell me where theDeerfootis.”
“Ask me something easier. She may be lying where we left her, or twenty miles away.”
“We should have heard her if she came down stream.”
“She may have gone up the river and around into the Sheepscot.”
“And back to the former hiding place of this boat or to a different one—the ‘Beautiful Isle of Somewhere,’” said Alvin grimly.
“One place will serve as well as another. I wonder whether there was ever so wonderful a mix-up of launches since such craft were known.”
Alvin shut off power and the two listened. From some point miles away came the hoarse growl of a steam whistle, but all else was still. He had hoped that they would hear theDeerfoot’sexhaust, but nothing of the kind came to their ears. He flirted the switch around and resumed the speed which was not above half a dozen miles an hour.
One of the plagues of the Maine coast isthe dense fogs which sometimes creep far up the rivers. Such an obscurity now began settling over Montsweag Bay and Back River, shutting out the moonlight as well as the rays of the rising sun. Before Alvin was aware, he could not see either shore until he had run far over to the right and caught a shadowy sight of the pines, spruce and firs which lined the bank. The air dripped moisture and, though it was summer, it grew chilly.
While gliding slowly forward they heard a steamer’s bell, accompanied by occasional blasts from her whistle. She was feeling her way down stream and sounding warnings to other craft. By and by the beat of her screw and the ripple of the water from her bow sounded so near that Alvin edged closer to land. In the heavy mist loomed a minute later a bulky steamer, surging southward at sluggish speed, the crew, as seen for an instant, looking like saturated ghosts.
The boat was quickly swallowed up, her bell still tolling, with blasts from her whistle at short intervals.
Seated as described, the two youths discussedwhat was the best thing to do. It seemed advisable to return to the point from which they started, that is, near Beartown landing. There was not one chance in a hundred that they would find theDeerfootthere, but such a thing was not impossible. That which made this policy seem wise was the likelihood of again meeting Detective Calvert. The news of the attempted robbery of the Beartown post office would be telegraphed far and wide, and he would be sure to hear of it at Wiscasset. It would not take him and his brother officer long to reach the village, where the lads could hope to see him.
It was certainly a singular coincidence that the launch should be twice stolen in so brief a time, and the owner grimly asked himself whether fate had not ordained that he was to lose it after all.
There was no light in the maze of conjecture that opened before them. Chester suggested an alarming complication.
“TheDeerfootcan outspeed any craft in the Maine waters. These burglars must have a hiding place, and we know there isno end to them among the bays, inlets, coves and islands that stud the rivers. Suppose they board the launch and speed away till all pursuit is thrown off the scent—something they can easily do—and then abandon the boat.”
“We shall find her sooner or later, and Calvert will perhaps in this way get on their track.”
“They can avert such danger by sinking her in deep water, where she may not be found for years.”
“I have not thought of that. It looks as if they had the whip-hand. These fellows may have blundered last night, but it was solely through the sudden appearance of Mike on the spot, for they are no fools. If we try to get the best of them we shall get the worst, unless we have the help of Mr. Calvert.”
“And the only way to gain that is to go back to Beartown.”
“So it seems to me. What do you think?” asked the Captain.
“I know of nothing better. Wouldn’t it be well to hit up the pace a little?”
“If this fog would only lift! But it seems to be growing thicker. We must feel our way.”
While the Captain was doing this, his second mate looked over theWater Witch. Its resemblance to theDeerfootwas remarkable. It was probably two or three feet shorter, but that was the only noticeable difference. The model was the same, even to the color of the paint used. As has already been said, however, there were only four seats while theDeerfoothad six. The similarity of the craft was proved by the fact that Alvin Landon boarded and ran it for quite a number of miles before even the slightest suspicion entered his mind.
All landmarks were shut from view until, as may be said, the launch ran against them. The boys had little or no acquaintance with the river they were ascending, and only here and there were they able to identify certain landings or towns from their previous study of the map. Alvin knew he was creeping northward, and sooner or later must reach the point which he left during the latter part of the night. Even thelanding would not be recognized without close study, and possibly not even then.
Had not the noise made by the progress of the launch shut out a certain sound and had not the dense fog hidden something from sight, the two would have made a startling discovery within the hour which followed their turning back. But no knowledge of that nature came to them.
The boys agreed that they would not reach their destination until long after their change of course. Neither noted when this was done, but Chester now looked at his watch and found it showed a few minutes to seven.
“A good hour for breakfast,” he remarked, “and my appetite is with me, as I am sure yours is with you.”
Alvin nodded and kept his eye on the receding shore and the water ahead.
“Mike is to be envied, for the good woman and especially the daughter will give him the best their house can afford. These boats don’t carry a large stock of provisions—who knows but there’s something of the kind on board?”
He asked the Captain to rise while he lifted the cushioned lid of the locker upon which he had been sitting. The next moment Chester uttered a joyous cry.
“Hurrah! we’re in luck!”
He held up a large paper bag into which he had peeped. It contained half a dozen plump ham sandwiches.
“While we are about it suppose we see what other treasures are in the ship’s chest.”
They found a most interesting stock indeed. Five black pieces of muslin, each with two peep-holes, several sets of false whiskers, two pairs of brass knuckles, three metal rings from each of which dangled more than a dozen keys of varying sizes, a box of revolver cartridges, a formidable knife, some twine and a number of articles of no importance.
“They tell their story,” said Chester, holding them up one after another for his chum’s inspection. “If the officers of the law arrest us, we shall have to depend upon our friends to prove an alibi.”
“Meanwhile there is no need to keep those sandwiches waiting.”
“Wonder if they are poisoned,” laughed Chester, as he passed one to his chum, and sank his teeth in another. “Anyhow, I’m going to take chances.”
“So am I. They don’t seem to have any cooking utensils on board, so coffee and warm food are to be denied us.”
The Captain ate with one hand on the steering wheel, and frequent glances ahead. Now and then they would find themselves approaching a sharp projection of land, around which the launch was steered, and then perhaps would glide past a cunning looking cove, too narrow to admit a boat of large size. Once, while doubling a cape, they came within a hair of running down a small rowboat propelled by a single occupant. He shouted angrily for the steersman to keep a better lookout.
“I’m sorry!” called back Alvin; “but the fog bothers us. Will you please tell me how far it is to Beartown landing?”
“’Bout half a mile, mebbe a little more. Who are you?”
Alvin gave his right name and thanked the man for his information.
“I thought that was about the distance,” said Chester, as he resumed the duty of sentinel. “I can’t recognize any landmark, and couldn’t if there was no fog to play the mischief with our sight.”
Alvin stopped the engine two or three times while approaching the spot, in order to listen for sounds of the other boat. They heard nothing, but had they not waited too long to make the experiment, they would have picked up some exceedingly interesting information.
“Here’s the spot!” called Chester a few minutes later, as he identified the spiderlike landing from which a road led to Beartown.
“Then we have passed the place where the launch lay up last night. We may as well go beyond and be out of the way of folks.”
A hundred yards north of the wharf, too far to see it when they looked back, theWater Witchcame gently to rest, the waiting Chester sprang ashore with a line in hand and made fast.