“How have you succeeded with Coleman?” continued Enoch. “Are we going to get rid of him as easily as we hoped?”
“Coleman is all right,” was Jones’s encouraging reply. “I laid a neat little trap for him, and he fell into it just as easy! I told him that we had been followed nearly all day, and he said he knew it, for he had seen Mack and some of his squad on the dock. I told him, too, that Mack knew all about the party at Windsor, and that I was afraid he would go down there and lie in wait for us; and Coleman offered to go ashore in the dory and reconnoiter.”
“Good!” exclaimed Enoch. “Just the minute he is out of sight we’ll fill away for the bay. Now let’s post the other boys, so that they may know just what is expected of them.”
The deserters did not at all enjoy their ridedown the river, for they were thinking about something else. They were impatient to see the last of Coleman, and trembling for fear that something would happen to excite his suspicions. They were strong enough to take the schooner from him by force, and there were some reckless ones in the band who openly advocated it; but the majority would not listen to them. They had enough to answer for already, they said, and they would not countenance any such high-handed proceeding. While they were talking about it they sighted Windsor.
“I guess I had better run in and tie up to the wharf,” said Coleman, who stood at the wheel.
“Don’t do that,” said Enoch, quickly. He wanted to keep the schooner out in the river so that when the proper time came he could fill away without the loss of a moment. If she were made fast to the wharf and the sails were lowered, it would be a work of some difficulty to get under way again, and if Coleman were the active and quick-witted man they took him for, he would upset all their plans in an instant.
“That wouldn’t do at all,” chimed in Jones. “How do we know but that Mack and his menare hidden there on the wharf all ready to board us as soon as we come alongside?”
“Couldn’t you fight ’em off?” inquired Coleman.
“We might, but we’ll not try it,” said Enoch. “There’s no law that prevents a deserter from hiding or taking to his heels, but if he should resist arrest, they’d snatch him bald-headed. We don’t want to fight, for we’re deep enough in the mud already.”
“What will the superintendent do to you when you go back?” asked Coleman.
“Oh, he’ll court-martial us and stop our liberty,” replied Jones. “But we don’t care for that, you know. We intend to have so much fun to-night at the party that we can afford to stay in camp during the rest of the month.”
Jones did not think it best to tell Coleman that he and his companions stood a fine chance of being expelled from the academy to pay for this night’s work. He was afraid that if he did, the man would refuse to assist them in their scheme, and that he would come about and take them back to Bridgeport. If he had tried that, there would have been trouble beyond a doubt, for hispassengers were bound to make themselves famous before they went back. They succeeded beyond their most sanguine expectations. It is true that they were taken to the academy under arrest, but they were looked upon as heroes and not as culprits who were deserving of punishment. They gave the students and everybody else something to talk about, but not in the way they had anticipated.
“The safest plan you can pursue is to leave the schooner out here in the river, and go ashore in the dory and see that the way is clear,” continued Jones.
“I don’t know of but one house in Windsor that is big enough for a party, and that’s Dr. Norton’s,” said Coleman.
“There’s right where we’re going,” said Enoch, at a venture. “We want you to go out there and look carefully about his grounds to make sure that Mack and his men are not in hiding there.”
“Why, it’s a mile from the village!” exclaimed Coleman.
“What of that?”
“It would take me an hour to go there and come back,” replied the man, “and to tell the truth,I am afraid to trust the yacht in your hands for that length of time. You might beach her, or a steamer might run her down in the dark.”
“You needn’t be afraid of that,” replied Jones. “Williams can take care of her. He owned and sailed a yacht years ago.”
“And here’s another thing,” said Enoch. “You ought to remember that you are as deeply interested in this matter as we are. If Mack and his men should capture us now, wouldn’t they find out that you are using your owner’s yacht without his knowledge, and wouldn’t they get you into trouble by speaking of it?”
“So they would,” answered Coleman. “I didn’t think of that. I must help you now whether I want to or not. Well, I’ll go ashore, as I agreed. Who’s going to manage the schooner while I am gone?”
Enoch answered that he was.
“All right. Take the wheel, and let me see you throw the yacht up into the wind.”
Enoch complied, and Coleman had no fault to find with the way in which he executed the maneuver. As soon as the schooner lost her headway, the man clambered down into the dory andpushed off toward the dock, not forgetting to tell Enoch that he left the yacht entirely in his hands, and that he (Enoch) would be responsible for her safety.
“Don’t be uneasy,” was the boy’s reassuring reply. “I know just what I want to do; and I’m going to do it,” he added, in a lower tone. “Go for’ard, Jones, and keep an eye on him as long as you can. When you see him go up the street that leads from the wharf, let me know.”
The impatient boys watched Coleman as he rowed toward the dock, and presently they saw his head bobbing up and down in front of the lights in the store windows. As soon as he disappeared up the road that led to Dr. Norton’s house, Jones carried the news to Enoch, who filled away and stood down the river again. The deserters were so delighted at the success of their stratagem that they danced hornpipes, and could with difficulty restrain themselves from shouting aloud.
“Brigham, tell those fellows to keep still,” commanded the new captain. “Now, Jones, the next thing is something else. We’ve got the schooner easy enough, but what shall we do with her?”
“Let’s crack on and get into the bay as soon as we can,” suggested Jones.
“I should like to, for I know we are not safe as long as we are in the river, but I am afraid to put any more canvas on her. Not being familiar with the channel I am going it blind, and I don’t want to knock a hole in her, or run her high and dry on a sand-bar before I know it. I think it would be safest to stay here for a while, and let our pursuers get ahead of us, so that we will be in their wake instead of having them in ours. Perhaps you had better talk it up among the boys and see what they think of it. While you are about it, find out if there is any one in the band who knows the river. If there is, send him to me.”
Jones hurried away to obey this order, and presently returned with a boy who lived in Oxford, and who had often piloted his father’s tugs up and down the river. The information he gave the captain was contained in a very few words, but it proved to be of great value to him. The boy told him that he had better keep as close to the bluff banks as he could, for there was where the channel was; but when he came to a place where the banks were low on both sides, he would find thedeepest water pretty near the middle of the river.
“That’s all I want to know about that,” said Enoch. “It is eleven o’clock, isn’t it, and we are about thirty-five miles from Bridgeport? Very well. How much farther down the river ought the current and this wind to take us by daylight?”
“I should think it ought to take us past Mayville, and that is seventy miles from Bridgeport,” replied the boy.
“Do you know of any little creeks around there that we could hide in during the day?”
The boy said there were a dozen of them.
“All right,” answered Enoch. “Perhaps you had better stay on deck with me to-night, and to-morrow we will sleep. Now Jones, divide the crew into two equal watches, and send one of them below if they are sleepy and want to go. Then bring up a couple of lanterns and hang them to the catheads. If we don’t show lights we may get run over.”
Jones proved to be an invaluable assistant, and it is hard to tell how Enoch would have got on without him. He hung out the lamps, set the watch, and then he and some of the band wentbelow to take a look at their floating home. He peeped into all the state-rooms, glanced at the forecastle, examined all the lockers as well as the galley and pantry, and was delighted with everything he saw.
“I didn’t know there was so much elbow-room on one of these little boats,” said he, after he had finished his investigations. “There are provisions enough in the store-rooms to last us a week, and the owner has left his trunk and his hunting and fishing traps on board.”
“That must not be touched,” said Enoch, decidedly.
“It wouldn’t do any harm to take out one of those fine breech-loaders and knock over a mess of squirrels with it,” said Jones.
“Yes, it would. Most men are very particular about their guns and don’t want strangers to use them. We must return all this property in just as good order as it was when it came into our hands. We’ve got money enough to buy our own grub, and I’ll raise a row with the first fellow who dips into those provisions, I don’t care who he is. We’re not mean, if we did run away with the schooner.”
Perhaps Egan would have been astonished to have heard such sentiments as these expressed by the boy whom he believed to be the “meanest fellow that ever lived.” Enoch could be manly so long as he was good-natured, and so could Lester Brigham. It was when they got angry that they showed themselves in their true characters. It may be that the fear of a rigorous prosecution by the angry owner of the yacht had something to do with the stand Enoch took in regard to the provisions and hunting outfit.
Of course none of the band wanted to go below, inviting as the berths looked, and Enoch, who liked company, did not insist upon it. They showed a desire to sing, but that was something the captain opposed. The noise they made would be sure to attract the attention of some of the people living along the banks, and put it in their power to aid Captain Mack and his men when they came in pursuit. He wanted to cover up their trail so as to mystify everybody.
“You need not expect to do that,” said one of the band. “Coleman will blow the whole thing as soon as he gets home.”
“But I don’t think he will go home and facehis owner after what he has done,” said Enoch. “I know I shouldn’t want to do it if I were in his place. If he keeps away from Bridgeport, so much the better for us. Wait till we get out of danger, and then you can sing to your hearts’ content.”
Enoch stood at the wheel all night, and the boy who lived in Oxford kept him company to see that he gave the sand-bars a wide berth. Some of the band managed to sleep a little, but the majority of the members lounged about the deck and wondered what they were going to do for excitement during their cruise.
The schooner passed Mayville shortly after daylight, and the deserters could not see that there was any one stirring. About half an hour afterward Enoch’s companion directed his attention to a wide creek which he said would afford an excellent hiding-place for their vessel during the day, and the schooner was accordingly turned into it. After she had run as far up the stream as the wind would carry her, the sails were hauled down, a dory they found in the creek was manned, a line got out, and the yacht was towed around the bend out of sight, and made fast to the bank.
And where were Captain Mack and his men all this time, and did they succeed in finding the trail of the deserters in spite of all Enoch’s efforts to cover it up? They spent the night in their quarters, and struck a hot scent the first thing in the morning. It came about in this way:
When Lester Brigham, with Jones’s assistance, succeeded in eluding Don Gordon, the latter became firmly settled in the belief that there was “something up.” He and Captain Mack used their best endeavors to get on Lester’s track again, looking in every place except the one in which they would have been sure to find him. That was at Cony Ryan’s house. As we said before, they did not go there because they knew it would be time wasted.
“It’s no use, Gordon,” said Captain Mack, after he and his squad had searched all the streets and looked into every store in the village. “They’re safe at Cony’s, and we might as well go home. I hope they will stay out all night so that we can have another chance to-morrow. I don’t like to give up beaten.”
Captain Mack knew where to find every one of his men, and in half an hour’s time they were allmarching back to camp. The young officer reported his return and his failure to capture the boy who had run the guard, adding that he had a strong suspicion that Enoch, Lester and the rest had some plan in their heads, and that they did not intend to return to camp of their own free will.
“Very well,” said the superintendent. “If they do not return to-night, you had better take a squad and go down to the village in the morning and make inquiries. If they can get away from you they are pretty smart.”
“Thank you, sir. I will do my best, but I can’t hope for success if I am to be hampered by orders.”
“No, I suppose not,” said the superintendent, with a laugh. “You would rather waste your time in running about the country than stay here in camp and attend to your business.”
“I am ahead of my class, sir,” said Mack.
“I know it. Well, stay out until you learn all about their plans, if they have any, and capture them if you know where they have gone. I presume that is the order you want.”
“Yes, sir; that’s the very one,” said Mack,with so much glee in his tones that the superintendent and all the teachers laughed heartily. “May I select my own men and take as many as I want?”
“Certainly, provided you leave enough to do camp duty.”
“I will, sir. I’ll take a man for every deserter.”
Captain Mack made his salute and hurried out, laughing all over. His first care was to go to the officer of the guard and find out just how many boys there were in Lester’s party (he took it for granted that they were all together and that they intended to desert and go off somewhere to have a good time), and his next to make out a list of the boys who were to comprise his squad. It is hardly necessary to say that the names of Don and Bert Gordon, Egan, Curtis and Hopkins appeared on that list. The captain meant to have a good time himself, and he wanted some good fellows to help him enjoy it.
“I have a roving commission, fellows,” he said to the boys, as fast as he found them. “If I can find out where those deserters have gone, I shall not come back without them. Stick a pin there.”
“Good for you, Mack,” was the universal verdict.
“I tell you it pays for a fellow to mind his business,” continued the delighted captain. “I never would have been allowed so great a privilege if I hadn’t behaved myself pretty well this term. Say nothing to nobody, but hold yourselves in readiness to leave camp at daylight. We’ll get breakfast in the village. If you haven’t plenty of money, perhaps you had better ask for some; and while you are about it, you might as well get ten dollars apiece. The superintendent is not very particular about financial matters during camp, you know.”
That was true, but still he looked surprised when more than twenty boys came to him that night and asked for ten dollars each. He handed over the money, however, without asking any questions, and when the last one went out he said to the teachers who had gathered in his marquee:
“This looks as if Captain Mack were up to something himself. Well, he’s a good boy, he associates with none but good boys, and we can trust him with the full assurance that any privileges we grant him will not be abused.”
Captain Mack and his chosen men did not get much sleep that night. Although they firmly believed that a large party of students had deserted the camp they had no positive proof of the fact, and they were in a state of great uncertainty and suspense. They hoped from the bottom of their hearts that Lester and the rest would not come in, for if they did, that was the end of the fun. Some of them ran out of their tents every time a sentry challenged, and always breathed easier when they found that none of the suspected parties had returned. At ten o’clock the challenges ceased, and after that no one came through the lines. Captain Mack went to the guard tent and found that none of Lester’s crowd had returned, and then he knew that his scout was an assured thing. The band was gone sure enough, and the next thing was to find it. All the members of his squad reported for duty promptly at daylight (not one of them waited to be called), and in five minutes more they were on their way to the village.
“Now, boys,” said the captain, as he halted the squad in front of the post-office, “scatter out, and take a look about the streets for half an hour, andthen report for breakfast at the International, which will be our headquarters as long as we stay here. I will go down there and tell them that we want something to eat as soon as they can dish it up.”
The boys “scattered out” in obedience to their order, and a short time afterward Don Gordon drew up at Haggert’s dock, where he found a portly old gentleman who seemed to be greatly excited about something, for he was striding back and forth, talking to himself and flourishing his cane in the air. This was Mr. Packard—the one to whom Don and Bert presented their letter of introduction on the night they got into trouble with the guard, and saved Sam Arkwright from being ducked in the big pond by Tom Fisher and his followers.
“I declare I don’t understand this thing at all,” said Mr. Packard, shaking his cane at Don, as the latter came up and wished him a hearty good morning.
“Neither do I,” replied Don, who knew that the angry old gentleman expected him to say something.
“Now there’s that villain, Coleman,” continuedMr. Packard, bringing the iron ferrule of his heavy stick down upon the dock to give emphasis to his words. “I’ve done everything I could for that man. I’ve footed his doctor bill when he was ill, paid him more wages than he demanded, given him employment when I didn’t really need him, and now he’s gone and run off with my boat. I say hanging is too good for such an ingrate. Come up to the house and take breakfast with me, Don. We haven’t seen you and Bert there in a long time. What are you doing here at this hour in the morning? Have you deserted again, you young scamp?”
“No,sir,” said Don, emphatically. “I haven’t been in a single scrape this term.”
“You were in that fight at Hamilton, and I call that something of a scrape. Everybody says you behaved with the greatest coolness. I am proud of you, do you hear me?” said Mr. Packard, again shaking his cane at Don.
“Thank you, sir,” was the reply. “What I meant to say was, that I have broken none of the rules, and don’t mean to, either. Do you see this bayonet? I am on duty, and consequently, I am obliged, much to my regret, to decline yourkind invitation. I am out after a lot of deserters.”
“I hope you’ll not catch them,” exclaimed Mr. Packard. “Let them enjoy themselves while they are young, for old age comes all too soon—too soon. I haven’t forgotten that I was a boy once myself. Come up to the house as often as you can—you and Bert. We are always glad to see you.”
The old gentleman walked quickly away, and then he as quickly stopped and shook his cane at the anchor buoy which marked the berth in which his schooner lay the last time he visited the dock.
“Now there’s that Coleman,” said he. “I’ll give him till dark to bring that boat back, and if he doesn’t do it, I’ll have the police after him. I will, for I can’t stand any such nonsense.”
“I have an idea,” said Don; and he also left the dock, performing a little problem in mental arithmetic as he hurried away. Given a five-knot breeze and a three-mile current, how far could a vessel like the Sylph (that was the name of Mr. Packard’s missing yacht) go in a narrow and crooked channel in nine or ten hours? That was the question he was trying to solve. While he was working at it, he entered a telegraph officeand found the operator dozing in his chair. He held a few minutes’ consultation with him, which must have resulted in something that was entirely satisfactory to Don, for when the latter came out of the office and hurried toward the hotel, his face wore an excited and delighted look. He found the squad at breakfast, he being the last to report.
“What kept you?” demanded the captain, as Don entered and took his seat at the table.
“Business,” was the laconic reply. “Have any of you got a clue?”
No, they hadn’t. With all their trying they had not been able to gain any tidings of the deserters, who had disappeared in some mysterious way and left no trace behind. Their leader, whoever he was, had shown considerable skill in conducting their flight so as to baffle pursuit.
“You’re a wise lot,” said Don. “I have a clue.”
A chorus of exclamations arose on all sides, and the captain laid down his knife and fork and settled back in his chair.
“I know right where they were about the time we left camp this morning,” continued Don.
“Where were they?” exclaimed all the boys at once.
“A long way from here. I tell you, Mack, the superintendent didn’t dream of this when he gave you your roving commission. Is it necessary that you should report to him for further orders?”
“No. He told me to catch those fellows if I could learn where they were, and that’s the only order I want.”
“All right. What do you say to a sail on the bay?”
The students raised a shout that made the spacious dining-room echo. “Have they gone that way?” asked the captain.
“They have, and this is the way I found it out,” answered Don, who, having worked his auditors up to the highest pitch of excitement, went on to repeat the conversation he had held with Mr. Packard, and wound up by saying: “Somehow I couldn’t help connecting the deserters with the disappearance of that yacht; so I dropped into a telegraph office, and the operator, at my request, spoke to Mayville, who, after taking about fifteen minutes to gain information, replied that the Sylph had gone down the river at daylight with a lot of students aboard.”
“Hurrah!” shouted Captain Mack; while hismen broke out into a yell, pounded the table, clapped their hands, and acted altogether so unlike orderly guests of a first-class hotel, that the proprietor came in to see what was the matter.
“Break all the dishes,” said he, swinging his arms around his head. “Turn the house out of doors, if you want to; it’s paid for!”
“We’ll try to stop before we do any damage, Mr. Mortimer,” said Captain Mack, with a laugh. “Now pitch in everybody, so that we can take the first train.”
“Where are we going, Mack,” inquired Curtis.
“To Oxford. Egan is a sailor-man, and—you know Mr. Shelby, of course.”
These words enabled the students to see through Mack’s plan at once, and they made another boisterous demonstration of delight and approval. They knew Mr. Shelby, who owned the finest and swiftest yacht in Oxford. He was an academy boy, and had once been famous as a good runner. He was a soldier as well as a sailor, as full of fun and mischief as any boy in Mack’s squad, and just the man to help Lester and his band with one hand, while giving their pursuers a lift with the other. Of course he would lend them his yachtand take as deep an interest in the race as any student among them.
Breakfast over, Don asked and obtained permission to run up to Mr. Packard’s and let him know what had become of the Sylph. To his great surprise the old gentleman took it as a huge joke, and laughed heartily over it. He warned Don that the schooner was a hard boat to beat when Coleman was at the helm, and declared that if the deserters would return her safe and sound, they might keep her a month and welcome. He would never make them any trouble on account of it. He was sorry to give up his cruise, but then his brother had just left Newport in his yacht, and when he arrived, he (Mr. Packard) would go off somewhere with him. It was plain that his sympathies were all with the runaways, although he knew nothing of the great service they were going to render him and others. If it hadn’t been for those same deserters, Mr. Packard would never again have seen his brother alive.
“Keep her away, Burgess! If the ragged end of that spar hits us it may send us to the bottom. Slack away the fore-sheet! Stand by, everybody, and don’t let him go by for your lives! He looks as though he couldn’t hold on another minute.”
It was Egan who issued these hurried orders. He was standing on the weather-rail of Mr. Shelby’s yacht, the Idlewild, which was sailing as near into the wind’s eye as she could be made to go, now and then buoying her nose in a tremendous billow that broke into a miniature cataract on her forecastle and deluged her deck with water. He was drenched to the skin, and so were the boys who were stationed along the rail below him, trembling all over with excitement, and watching with anxious faces one of the most thrilling scenes it had ever been their lot to witness.
There had been a terrible storm along the coast. It was over now, the clouds had disappeared and the sun was shining brightly; but the wind was still blowing half a gale, there was a heavy sea running, and the waves seemed to be trying their best to complete the work of destruction that had been commenced by the storm. Two points off the weather-bow there had been, a few minutes before, a little water-logged sloop, over which the waves made a clean breach; but she was gone now. All on a sudden her bow arose in the air, her stern settled deep in the water, and the yacht, which had set sail from Newport a few days before with a merry party of excursionists on board, went down to the bottom of the bay. Broad on the Idlewild’s beam was the Sylph, the deserters working like beavers to rescue the crew of the sunken yacht, heedless or ignorant of the fact that they were in jeopardy themselves, their vessel being so badly handled by the frightened and inexperienced boy at her wheel, that she was in imminent danger of broaching to. Tossed about by the waves which rolled between the Idlewild and the Sylph was a broken spar to which a student, with a pale but determined face, clung desperately with one arm,while in the other he supported the inanimate form of a little boy. The student was Enoch Williams, and the boy was Mr. Packard’s nephew.
The last time we saw the Sylph she was hiding in the creek a short distance below Mayville. That was a week ago, and her persevering and determined pursuers had but just come up with her. During the day the deserters purchased a small supply of provisions from the neighboring farmers, fished a little, slept a good deal, and when darkness came to conceal their movements they got under way again, and stood down the river, taking the stolen dory with them. At daylight they found another hiding-place, and before dawn the next morning they ran by Oxford, a bustling little city situated at the mouth of the river. If they were pursued they did not know it. They made cautious inquiries as often as they had opportunity, but no one could give them any information, because Captain Mack and his men had escaped observation by going from Bridgeport to Oxford on the cars.
When the Sylph ran out into the bay, the deserters began to feel perfectly safe. They shouted and sung themselves hoarse, and told one anotherthat they were seeing no end of sport; but in their hearts they knew better. How was their cruise going to end? was the unwelcome question that forced itself into their minds every hour in the day, and none of them could answer it satisfactorily. It might be a daring exploit to run off with a private yacht, but they didn’t think so now that the mischief was done, and there was not one among them who did not wish that he had taken some other way to get out of the academy. Enoch very soon became disgusted. The wind being brisk he was obliged to be at the wheel nearly all the time, and he couldn’t see the fun of working so steadily while the rest of the band were lying around doing nothing.
“I’ll tell you what’s a fact,” said he to Jones, one day. “There’s too much of a sameness about this thing to suit me. I have the best notion in the world to desert the yacht the next time we go ashore, and strike a straight course for home.”
“I have been thinking seriously of the same thing,” answered Jones.
“It’s a cowardly thing to do,” continued Enoch, “but when I fall to thinking of the settlement that’s coming, I can’t sleep, it troubles me so.Suppose the man who owns this yacht is one who can’t take a joke! Do you know that we have rendered ourselves liable to something worse than expulsion from the academy?”
“I didn’t think of that until it was too late,” said Jones.
“Neither did I; nor did I think to ask myself what my father would say and do about it. I believe our best plan would be to go back and put the schooner in her berth. It will take us four or five days to do that, and during that time each fellow can decide for himself how he will act when we get to Bridgeport—whether he will go home, or return to the academy and face the music.”
“That’s a good idea,” exclaimed Jones. “I know what I shall do. I shall get into camp, if I can, without being caught, and report for duty. Let’s all do that, and if we return the schooner in as good order as she was when we found her, we shall escape the disgrace of being sent down, and at the same time have the satisfaction of knowing that we have done something that no other crowd ever attempted. After we get home we can tell our fathers that we don’twant to come back to school, and perhaps we can induce them to listen to us. That fight with the mob will be in our favor, for after our folks have had time to think it over calmly, they’ll not willingly put us in the way of getting into another. That’s the best plan, and you may depend upon it.”
“I think so myself,” said Enoch. “Call the boys aft and ask them what they think about it.”
It is hardly necessary to say that the runaways were delighted with the prospect of escaping the consequences of their folly. Their cruise among the islands of the bay had been almost entirely devoid of interest. It is true that they had raided a few melon-patches and corn-fields, and that a little momentary excitement had been occasioned by the discovery of suspicious sails behind them; but their foraging had been accomplished with small difficulty and without detection, and the sails belonged to coasters which held their course without paying any attention to the schooner. Without giving Jones, who did the talking, time to enter fully into an explanation, the deserters broke into cheers, and some of them urged the captain to turn the schooner’s bow toward Oxford at once.
“I am afraid to do it,” said Enoch, as soon as he could make himself heard. “Just turn your eyes in that direction for a moment.”
The boys looked, and saw a milk-white cloud, followed by one as black as midnight, rapidly rising into view above the horizon. Underneath, the sea was dark and threatening.
“There’s wind in those clouds, and plenty of it, too,” continued the captain. “If we are caught in it we are gone deserters. Our only chance for safety is to make the lee of that island you see ahead of us.”
The runaways watched the clouds with a good deal of anxiety. Up to this time the wind had been fair and the weather all they could have desired; but now it looked as though the Storm King were about to show them what he could do when he got into a rage. The clouds came up with startling rapidity; the lightning began playing around their ragged edges, the mutterings of distant thunder came to their ears, and their haven of refuge seemed far away; but fortunately the breeze held out, and just a few minutes before the wind changed with a roar and a rush, and the storm burst forth in all its fury, the Sylph droppedher spare anchor in a sheltered nook under the lee of the island, and with everything made snug, was prepared to ride it out. The rain fell in torrents, driving the boys below and keeping them there until long after midnight. The wind blew as they had never heard it blow before, but the anchor held, and shortly before daylight the thunder died away in the distance, and finally the sun arose in unclouded splendor. The runaways were all hungry, for they had had no supper, and as their provisions were all exhausted, some of them began to talk of laying violent hands upon those in the lockers.
“There’s no need of doing that,” said Enoch, after he had taken a look around. “All hands stand by to get ship under way. It doesn’t blow to hurt anything, and we’ll take the back track without any delay. After a glorious spin over these waves, we’ll stop for breakfast at the island where we robbed our last corn-field. It’s only a few miles away, and it will make the Sylph laugh to run down there with such a breeze as this.”
The deserters had become accustomed to yield prompt and unquestioning obedience to Enoch’s orders, but there were some among them who didnot at all like the idea of going out of the cove to face the white caps that were running in the bay. If there had been any one to propose it and to direct their movements afterward, a few of them would have refused duty; but the majority, having confidence in Enoch’s skill and caution, went to work to get the chain around the little windlass which served the Sylph in lieu of a capstan, and when they shipped the handspikes, the timid ones took hold and helped run the vessel up to her anchor. She was got under way without difficulty, and as long as she remained behind the island where the wind was light and the sea comparatively smooth, she made such good weather of it that Lester Brigham and those like him, began to take courage; and they even struck up: “Here let my home be, in the waters wide,” to show how happy they were, and how much they enjoyed the rapid motion. But their song ceased very suddenly when they rounded the promontory at the foot of the island, and saw what there was before them. In front, behind and on both sides of them were tumbling, white-capped billows, whose tops were much higher than the schooner’s rail, and which came rolling slowly and majesticallytoward them, but with dreadful force and power. It seemed as if every one of them were higher than its predecessor, and that nothing could save the Sylph, which bounded onward with increased speed.
“This is something like a sail!” shouted Enoch, who was all excitement now. “This is what puts life into a fellow. I wish some other schooner would show up, so that we could have a race with her. How she flies!”
“Look out or you’ll tip us over,” whined Lester, who was holding on for life.
“No fear of that,” replied Enoch. “The Sylph is no ‘skimming-dish.’ She’s deep as well as wide, and being built for safety instead of speed, I couldn’t capsize her if I should try.”
“There’s the boat you were wishing for,” said Jones, suddenly. “Now you can have a race if you want it.”
Enoch looked around, and was surprised as well as startled to see a handsome little yacht scarcely more than a mile distant from them and following in their wake. She was carrying an immense spread of canvas, considering the breeze that was blowing and the sea that was running, but thather captain was not satisfied with the speed she was making was evident from the fact that while the deserters looked at her, they saw a couple of her crew mount to the cross-trees to shake out the gaff-topsails.
“That’s the most suspicious-looking fellow we have seen yet,” remarked Enoch, after he had taken a good look at the stranger. “He don’t crack on in that style for nothing. Hallo! what’s the matter with you?” he added, as Jones gave a sudden start and came very near dropping the spy-glass which he had leveled at the yacht.
“They’re after us, as sure as the world,” exclaimed Jones, in great excitement. “Those fellows who are going aloft are dressed in uniform.”
“Then we’re as good as captured,” said Enoch, spitefully. “There isn’t a single boy in the band who can go up and loosen the topsails, or whom I dare trust at the wheel while I do it. If I had as good a crew as he has, I’d beat him or carry something away; but what can I do with a lot of haymakers.”
“There’s another boat right ahead of us,” said one of the deserters.
Enoch was not a little astonished as well asfrightened by the sight that met his gaze when he turned his eyes from the pursuing yacht to the boat in advance of them. He expected to find that she also was full of students; but instead of that she was a complete wreck. Her mast had gone by the board and was now dragging alongside, pounding the doomed yacht with fearful violence every time a wave rose and fell beneath it. There was no small boat to be seen, and Enoch thought at first that the sloop had been abandoned; but when she was lifted on the crest of a billow and he obtained a better view of her, he was horrified to discover that there were three men and a woman lashed to the rigging. The sight was a most unexpected one, and for a minute or two Enoch could not speak. He stood as if he had grown fast to the deck, and then all the manhood there was in him came to the surface. Those helpless people must be taken off that wreck at all hazards. He looked at the pursuing yacht, and then he looked at the sloop. The former was coming up hand over hand, but she was still far away, and the sloop might go to the bottom at any moment. Probably she was kept afloat by water-tight compartments. The spar that wastowing alongside would very soon smash them in, and then she would go down like a piece of lead, being heavily ballasted and having no buoyant cargo to sustain her.
“Jones,” said Enoch, speaking rapidly but calmly, “you have stood by me like a good fellow so far, and you mustn’t go back on me now. Come here and take the wheel. I am going to save that lady or go to the bottom while trying.”
“Are you going off in the dory?” faltered Jones, as he laid his hands upon the wheel.
“Of course. There’s nothing else I can do.”
“Then you will go to the bottom, sure enough.”
“I can’t help it if I do,” said Enoch, desperately. “I will throw the yacht up into the wind before I go, and all you’ve got to do is to hold the wheel steady and keep her there till I get back—if I ever do. I say, fellows,” he added, addressing the frightened boys who were gathered around him, “I am going off in the dory after that lady, and I want one of you to go with me. Who’ll volunteer?”
The deserters were so astonished that there was no immediate response. The dory was small, the waves were high, and it looked like certain deathto venture out among them. After a moment’s indecision one of them stepped forward and prepared himself for the ordeal by discarding his coat and hat and kicking off his boots. Who do you suppose it was? It was Lester Brigham. The boy who had hidden his head under the bed-clothes when he thought that the rioters were coming to attack the academy, now showed, to the surprise of everybody, that he was not a coward after all. Enoch could not have picked out an abler assistant. He was a good oarsman, he could swim like a duck, and, better than all, his courage never faltered when he found himself in the dory battling with the waves. His companions, who dared not go on so perilous a mission themselves, cheered him loudly as he stepped forward, and Enoch shook him warmly by the hand, saying in a low tone:
“We said we would give the academy boys something to talk about, and now we’re going to do it.”
The schooner ran on by the wreck, whose crew, seeing that an attempt was to be made to rescue them, cheered faintly, but made no effort to free themselves from their lashings. The reason wasbecause they were utterly exhausted, and they were afraid that if they loosed their bonds, the first wave that broke over the sloop’s deck would carry them into the sea.
As soon as the Sylph had been thrown up into the wind, Enoch and Lester, whose faces were white but resolute, scrambled down into the dory, and the struggle began. The waves tossed their little craft about like an egg-shell, but they kept manfully on, and in ten minutes more, they were alongside the wreck. The lady, who was insensible from fright or exposure, was the first to be released and placed in the boat, and then the men were taken care of, one after the other. As Enoch approached the last one, he saw that the man carried in his arms a bundle that was wrapped up in a blanket. He held fast to it, too, in spite of the boy’s efforts to take it from him; but as Enoch assisted him toward the dory, a wave, higher than the rest, knocked them both off their feet, and as the man was hauled into the boat Enoch missed the frantic grasp he made at a life-line, and the water rushing across the deck carried him overboard. Close in front of him was the bundle which had slipped from the grasp of the rescuedman when he lost his footing. As the wave hurried it across the deck toward an opening in the bulwarks the blanket fell off, revealing to Enoch’s astonished gaze the handsome features of a little four-year-old boy, who turned his blue eyes pleadingly toward him for an instant, and then disappeared over the side. Enoch made a desperate clutch at the golden curls, and when he arose to the surface, he brought his prize with him; but he had to go down again the next moment to escape destruction from the spar, which the next wave brought toward him broadside on. It had been torn from its fastenings at last, but it had done its deadly work. There was a great hole in the sloop’s side, and the water was pouring into it.
“I say, Lester!” shouted Enoch, as he came up on the other side of the spar, shook the water from his face and held the boy aloft so that he could breathe. “Get away from there.”
“Oh, my boy!” cried one of the men in the dory, who now discovered that he had lost the precious burden to which he had so lovingly clung through long hours of exposure and suffering.
“He’s all right,” shouted Enoch, encouragingly.“I’ve got a good grip on him. Lester, I tell you to get away from there! Hold the dory head on to the waves, and she’ll ride them without shipping a drop of water. If the Sylph doesn’t make stem-way enough to pick you up, the other yacht will take care of you.”
Not knowing just how much of a swirl the sloop would make when she went to the bottom, Enoch exerted all his powers as a swimmer to get himself and his burden out of reach of it. He succeeded in his object, and when the wreck had sunk out of sight and he thought it safe to do so, he swam back to the spar and laid hold of it. Then he looked around for the dory. She had been hauled alongside the Sylph by aid of the line that one of the crew had been thoughtful enough to throw to her, and the sloop’s crew were being hoisted over the rail one after the other.
“Hard a starboard! Stand by, everybody,” shouted a voice above him.
The pursuing yacht came gracefully up into the wind, and as the bold swimmer was lifted on the crest of a wave strong hands grasped his arms, and he and his prize were lifted out of the water and over the rail to the Idlewild’s deck.
The first southward bound train that passed through Bridgeport on the morning that Don Gordon so unexpectedly obtained a clue to the whereabouts of the deserters, took him and all the rest of Captain Mack’s men to Oxford. Although the young officer had full authority to act in this way, he did not omit to drop a note into the post-office, telling the superintendent where he had gone and what he intended to do.
“He’ll not get it before ten o’clock,” said the captain, gleefully, “and by that time we shall be so far away that he will not think it worth while to recall us, or to send a teacher after us.”
“We don’t want any teacher with us,” said Don. “We can do this work ourselves.”
“Of course we can; and what’s more, we’re going to. Now, keep out of sight, all of us, and don’t go out on the platform when we stop at thestations. We don’t want to see any despatches. We’re doing this ourselves, and having begun it, we want to go through with it.”
The next time the superintendent heard from Captain Mack and his men they were at Oxford, and ready to continue the pursuit in the Idlewild, which was lying to in the river when Mack sent the despatch. In fact he took pains to see that everything was ready for the start before he went near the telegraph office. He got the yacht, as he knew he would, without the least trouble (Mr. Shelby laughed heartily when he heard what the deserters had done, and said he wished he had thought of such a thing when he was a boy), laid in a stock of provisions and water, and then turned the management of affairs over to Egan, who selected his crew and got the yacht under way. When she came abreast of the city (the berth she usually occupied was about a mile up the river) Mack went ashore in the dory, and after sending off his despatch, telling the superintendent where he was and what he intended to do next, he plumed himself on having done his full duty as a gentleman and an officer.
“He couldn’t stop us now if he wanted to,”said Mack, as he returned aboard and the Idlewild filled away for the bay, “for there are no telegraph offices outside, and if we see a tug after us, we’ll hide from her. But the superintendent can’t say that I didn’t keep him posted, can he?”
The pursuing vessel had a much better crew than the Sylph—of the twenty-three boys aboard of her there were an even dozen who could go aloft and stand their trick at the wheel—and if she had once come in sight of the deserters, she would have overhauled them in short order; but the trouble was to get on the track of them. There was a good deal of territory in the bay—it was about a hundred miles long and half as wide—and there were many good hiding-places to be found among the numerous islands that were scattered about in it. For five days they sailed about from point to point, but could gain no tidings of Enoch and his crowd. The island farmers, of whom they made inquiries, declared that Captain Mack and his squad were the only academy boys who had been seen on the bay that summer. If the deserters had left the corn-fields and melon-patches alone, their pursuers might not have been able to get on their track at all; but one iratetruck-gardener, whom they had despoiled of nearly a cart-load of fine watermelons which were in prime condition for the Oxford market, gave them the needed information, and after that their work was easy. They traced the Sylph from island to island, gaining on her every hour, and would have overhauled her before the close of the day on which the storm came up, had they not been obliged to seek a safe anchorage from the gale.
During the night of the blow the little vessels were not more than five miles apart. The Idlewild made the earlier start, and if the Sylph had remained in the cove an hour longer she would have been captured there, for it was Egan’s intention to coast along the lee-shore of that very island. As it was, he did not catch sight of the object of his search until she rounded the promontory and stood up the bay. Then all was excitement on the Idlewild’s deck.
“Hold her to it, Burgess,” said Egan to the boy at the wheel. “The Sylph’s got the weather-gauge of us now, but we can soon gain the wind of her. At any rate we’ll make her captain show what he’s made of. Go aloft, a couple of you, and we’ll set the topsails.”
“Are you going to lay us alongside of her?” asked Burgess.
“Not in this sea,” replied Egan. “We’ll keep her company until she gets into smooth water, and then we’ll bounce her. What do you see, Gordon?” he added, addressing himself to Bert who was gazing steadily at something through the glass.
“I never saw a wreck,” replied Bert, handing the glass to Egan, “but if that isn’t one, tossing about on the waves just ahead of the Sylph, I’d like to know what it is.”
Egan looked, and an exclamation indicative of the profoundest astonishment fell from his lips. It was a wreck, sure enough, said all the boys, as the glass was passed rapidly from hand to hand, and there were people on it, too. Now what was to be done?
“Stow the topsails and lay down from aloft,” commanded Egan. “We don’t want any more canvas on her until we have taken care of those castaways.”
Never before had the Idlewild bore so excited a party as Captain Mack and his men were at that moment, and never had she carried a more orderlyone. There was not the slightest confusion among them. Those who understood Egan’s hurried orders obeyed them, and those who did not, kept out of the way. When they saw that the deserters were making preparations to board the wreck, their admiration found vent in lusty and long-continued cheers.
“Who are those fellows in the dory?” Egan asked of Don, who had the glass. “They have good pluck, I must say.”
“One of them is Enoch Williams, and the other is——”
Don was so utterly amazed by the discovery he had made, that he could go no further. He wiped both ends of the glass with his handkerchief to make sure that there was nothing on them to obscure his vision, and then he looked again.
“The other is Lester Brigham,” said he.
His companions could hardly believe it. First one and then another took the glass, and every one who gazed through it, gave utterance to some expression of astonishment.
“I’ll never again be in such haste to pass judgment upon a fellow,” said Egan, after he had satisfied himself that Enoch’s companion was noneother than the boy who had faltered when his courage was first tested. “I have been badly mistaken in both those boys. You are going to capture the deserters, Mack, but Enoch and Lester will go back to Bridgeport with a bigger feather in their caps than you will.”
Captain Mack did not feel at all envious of them on that account. He and the rest watched all their movements with the keenest solicitude, and cheered wildly every time one of the sloop’s crew was released from his lashings and put into the dory. When that big wave came and washed Enoch overboard, their hearts seemed to stop beating, and every boy anxiously asked his neighbor whether or not Enoch could swim well enough to keep himself afloat until they could reach him. Their fears on that score were speedily set at rest and their astonishment was greatly increased when Egan, who held the glass, said that he could swim like a cork, that he held a little child in his arms, and that he knew enough to get beyond the influence of the whirlpool made by the wreck which was now going to the bottom.
“He’s a hero!” cried Egan, after he had shouted himself hoarse. “Look out for that spar,Burgess! Get handspikes, some of you, and stand by to push her off!”
But the handspikes were not needed. Being skilfully handled the Idlewild came up into the wind within easy reach of the spar, but never touching it, and hung there barely a moment—just long enough to give the eager boys who were stationed along the weather-rail, time to seize the swimmer and haul him aboard. He was none the worse for his ducking, while his burden lay so white and motionless in his arms that everybody thought he was dead; but he was only badly frightened, and utterly bewildered by the strange and unaccountable things that were going on around him.
“Now, then, what does a fellow do in cases like this?” exclaimed Don, who was at sea in more respects than one.
“Take the boy below and put him to bed,” commanded Egan. “Pull off those wet clothes, give him a good rubbing to set his blood in motion, and then cover him up warmly and let him go to sleep. I suppose his father is among those whom you and Lester took off the wreck?”
“I think he is, and his mother too,” repliedEnoch, who was wringing the water out of his coat.
“His mother!” cried Egan.
“Yes. The first one we took off was a lady.”
“Who are they, and where did they come from?”
“Haven’t the shadow of an idea. I don’t know the name of their vessel, or whether or not any of the crew were lost. The lady was insensible, and the men were not much better off.”
“Then we must run for a doctor!” exclaimed Mack.
“You can’t get to one any too quick,” answered Enoch. “But first, you had better send somebody off to take charge of that schooner. Jones is at the wheel, and he can’t handle her in this wind.”
Captain Mack lost no time in acting upon this suggestion. While the Idlewild was taking up a position on the Sylph’s starboard quarter, her small boat, which had been housed on deck, was put into the water, half the squad, six of whom were capable of managing the schooner, were sent off to take charge of the prize, and the majority of the deserters were transferred to the Idlewild.Bert Gordon, who was the only non-commissioned officer in the squad, commanded the Sylph, but Burgess sailed her. All this work was done as soon as possible, and when it was completed the two vessels filled away for the nearest village, the Idlewild leading the way. During the run the deserters fraternized with their captors, and many interesting and amusing stories of the cruise were told on both sides. The former were treated as honored guests instead of prisoners, and Mack and his men praised them without stint.
“We’re all right, fellows,” said Jones, when he had opportunity to exchange a word with Lester and Enoch in private. “The superintendent won’t say anything to us. He can’t after what we have done.”
“But we didn’t all do as well as Enoch did,” said Lester.
“I know that. He will receive the lion’s share of the honors, but the rest of us did the best we could, and if one is let off scot free, the others must be let off too. Those people would have gone to the bottom with their yacht if we hadn’t sighted them just as we did; and by rescuing them we have made ample amends for our misdeeds.”
All the deserters seemed to be of the same opinion, and the boys who, but a short time before, would have shrunk from meeting the gaze of their teachers, now looked forward to their return to camp with the liveliest anticipations of pleasure. There was one thing they all regretted, now that the fun was over, and that was, that the confiding Coleman had lost his situation through them. They resolved, if they could gain the ear of the Sylph’s owner, to make an effort to have him reinstated. Fortunately for Coleman, this proved to be an easy thing to do.
It was twenty miles to the nearest village, but the fleet little vessels, aided by the brisk wind that was blowing, covered the distance in quick time. The moment the Sylph came within jumping distance of the wharf, one of her crew sprang ashore and started post-haste for a doctor, and shortly afterward Burgess and another of Bert’s men boarded the Idlewild.
“The lady is coming around all right and wants to see her boy,” said the former.
The little fellow was fast asleep in one of the bunks, and his clothes were drying in the galley; so Burgess picked him up, blankets and all, andcarried him off to his mother, while his companion lingered to give Captain Mack some account of the rescued people who, he said, were able to talk now, but too weak to sit up. They were from Newport, and they were all relations of Mr. Packard, the Sylph’s owner. The owner and captain of the lost sloop was Mr. Packard’s brother, and the little boy was his nephew. The lady was the captain’s wife. They had been out in all that storm, and after the men had worked at the pumps until their strength failed them, they had lashed themselves to the rigging in the hope that their disabled craft would remain afloat until the waves could carry her ashore.
“But she wouldn’t have gone ashore,” said Egan. “She would have missed the island and been carried out to sea if she had stayed above water.”
“They know that,” said the student, “and they know, too, that they owe their lives to the Sylph, for they would have gone down before the Idlewild could have reached them. They feel very grateful toward the dory’s crew, and Mr. Packard says he will never forget the gallant fellow who saved his boy’s life at the risk of his own.”
These words were very comforting to the deserters. The owner of the Sylph was one of the prominent men of Bridgeport, and it was not at all likely that he would neglect to use his influence with the superintendent in behalf of the boys who had saved his relatives from a watery grave. Lester Brigham could hardly contain himself. He had won a reputation at last, and the hated Gordons were nowhere. He believed now that he would stay at the academy, and Enoch, Jones and the rest of them had about come to the same conclusion. They all wanted warrants and commissions, and who could tell but that their recent exploit would give them the favor of the teachers, who would see that their desires were gratified?
At daylight the next morning Bert Gordon sent word to Captain Mack that the doctor thought his patients were now able to continue the journey to Bridgeport. No time was lost in getting under way, and at dark they were in Oxford. The Idlewild was turned over to her owner in just as good condition as she was when she left port, and Captain Mack, after seeing the rescued people to a hotel, at which they intended to remain for a day or two in order to obtain the rest they so muchneeded, and sending despatches to the superintendent and Mr. Packard, took the first train for Bridgeport with the deserters and the main body of his men, leaving Bert, Egan, and six others to bring the Sylph up the river. Before she was hauled into her berth the camp had been broken, the students had marched back to the academy, and the examination was going on as if nothing had happened during the term to draw the students’ attention from their books. Mr. Packard had responded to Captain Mack’s telegram by going down to Oxford and bringing his relatives back with him, and the townspeople were almost as highly excited over what the deserters had done, as they were when they learned that an academy company had put down the Hamilton riot. There were some among them who declared that Enoch and Lester ought to be promoted; but the superintendent was of a different opinion. He admired their courage, but he could not lose sight of the fact that in stealing a private yacht and running off in her, they had done something for which they ought to be expelled from the academy. In fact that was the sentence that was passed upon them by the court-martial; but thesuperintendent set it aside, as everybody knew he would, and commuted their punishment to deprivation of standing and loss of every credit mark they had earned during the year, thus destroying their last chance for promotion.
The examination came to a close in due time, and the result astonished everybody. Don Gordon made the longest jump on record, springing from the ranks to a position “twelve yards in the rear of the file-closers, and opposite the centre of the left wing” of the battalion. In other words, he became major; Bert was made a first-lieutenant, and Sam Arkwright, the New York boot-black, was promoted to a second-lieutenancy. This was enough to disgust Lester and Enoch, and not even the satisfaction they felt at being invited to dinner and made much of at Mr. Packard’s residence, could make them good-natured again. Forgetting that the position a boy occupied in that academy was determined by his standing as a student and a soldier, and not by any acts of heroism he might perform while on a runaway expedition, they laid Don’s rapid promotion to favoritism, and threatened him and the teachers accordingly. As for Don, who had simplytried to behave himself, hoping for no higher round than a lieutenant’s commission, he was fairly stunned; and as soon as he had somewhat recovered himself, his first thought was to enjoin secrecy upon his brother.
“Don’t lisp a word of this in your letters to mother,” said he. “Tell her that the result of the examination is perfectly satisfactory to both of us, and let her be content with that until she sees our shoulder-straps.”
Lester Brigham pursued an entirely different course. The papers were full of the exploit the deserters had performed on the bay, and whenever he found an article relating to it that was particularly flattering to his vanity, he cut it out and sent it to his father. He wanted him and everybody else about Rochdale to know what a brave boy he was.
The examination over, two parties of students left the academy and started off to enjoy their vacation in their own way, Lester and his friends heading for Mississippi, and Curtis andhisfriends striking for the wilds of Maine. The latter had long ago sent for their guns, which arrived during their first week in camp. Bert, whose highestambition was to bag a brace or two of ruffed grouse, carried his little fowling-piece; Don, who had an eye on the moose and caribou which, so Curtis told him, were still to be found on the hunting-grounds he intended to show them, had sent for his muzzle-loading rifle; while Egan and Hopkins were armed with the same ponderous weapons with which they had worked such havoc among the ducks and quails about Diamond Lake. To these outfits were added fly-rods, reels and baskets which they purchased in Boston, Curtis making their selections for them. The Southern boys were astonished when they handled the neat implements that were passed out for their inspection.
“I don’t want this pole,” said Don, who was holding an elegant split-bamboo off at arm’s length. “It’s too limber. It isn’t strong enough to land a minnow.”
“That isn’t a pole; it’s a rod,” said Curtis. “Of course it is very light and elastic, and you couldn’t throw a fly with it if it were not; but it’s strong enough to land any fish you are likely to catch in Maine. I suppose you have been in the habit of yanking your fish out by main strength,haven’t you? Well, that’s no way to do. You’d better take it if you want to see fun.”
Don took it accordingly, though not without many misgivings, and the other boys also paid for the rods that Curtis selected for them, carrying them out of the store as gingerly as though they had been made of glass. But there proved to be any amount of strength and durability in those same frail-looking rods, and their owners caught many a fine string of trout with them before the season closed.
Their journey from Boston to Dalton, which was the name of the little town in which Curtis lived, was a pleasant though an uneventful one. The last fifty miles were made by stage-coach—a new way of traveling to the Southern boys, who, of course, wanted to ride on the top. About ten o’clock at night the stage drove into the village, and after stopping at the post-office to leave the mail, and at the principal hotels to drop some of its passengers, it kept on to Curtis’s home. Late as the hour was, they found the house filled with boys who had gathered there to welcome their friend who had been in a real battle since they last saw him, and to extend a cordial greeting tothe comrades he had brought with him. They were introduced to the new-comers, one after the other, as members ofThe Rod and Gun Club, which, according to Curtis’s way of thinking, could boast of more skillful fishermen, and finer marksmen, both at the trap and on the range, than any other organization of like character in the State. There were nearly a score of them in all, and they seemed to be a jolly lot of fellows. Some of them had performed feats with the rod and gun that were worth boasting of, and as fast as Curtis found opportunity to do so, he pointed them out to his guests, and told what they had done to make themselves famous. That tall, slender, blue-eyed boy who stood over there in the corner, talking to Mr. Curtis, had won the club medal by breaking a hundred glass-balls in succession, when thrown from a revolving trap. He was ready to shoot against any boy in the country at single or double rises, and Curtis was going to try to induce Don Gordon to consent to a friendly trial of skill with him. That fellow over there on the sofa, who looked enough like Hopkins to be his brother, was the champion fisherman. He had been up in Canada with his father, and duringthe sixteen days he was there, he had caught more than eight hundred pounds of fish with one rod. They were all salmon. One of them weighed thirty-two pounds, and it took the young fisherman fifty minutes to bring him within reach of the gaff. The boy who was talking with Don Gordon was a rifle shot. He could shoot ten balls into the same hole at forty yards off-hand, and think nothing of it.