"If I thought that Joe of our'n would be mean enough to carry tales on me and have me 'rested, I'd larrup him 'till his own mother wouldn't know him," declared Silas, who grew so angry at the mere mention of such a thing, that he wanted to catch up a stick and fall upon the boy at once.
"And make the biggest kind of a fool of yourself by doing of it," said Hobson, calmly. "Look a-here, Silas, you want to keep away from old man Warren's woods this winter."
"With them six hundred dollars' worth of birds running around loose and no law to pertect 'em?" cried the ferryman. "I'll show you whether I will or not. I tell you I'll have the last one of them before the winter's over. It is true that I don't care for such trifling things as the ferry any more, 'causeI've got a plan in my head that'll—hum! But I want to get even with old man Warren for breaking up my business, don't I?"
"Of course you do; and the best way to do it is to make him give something toward your support. Joe ain't of age yet, and you can compel him to hand over every cent he earns."
"That's so!" exclaimed the ferryman, who now began to see what his friend Hobson was aiming at. "That Joe of our'n makes right smart by acting as guide and pack-horse to the strangers who come here to shoot and fish; but I never thought to ask him for any of it. He always gives it to his mother."
"Why don't you make him give it to you, and then you can spend it as you please?" said Hobson, hoping that the ferryman would act upon his advice, and so increase his wealth by the addition of Joe's hard earnings that he could squander more at the bar of the Halfway House than he was in the habit of doing. "The head of the family ought to have the handling of all the money that comes into the house—that's my creed."
"And a very good creed it is, too," replied Silas, who told himself that he must be very stupid indeed not to have seen the matter in its true light long ago. "I'll turn over a new leaf this very day. Joe shall give me every cent of them hundred and twenty dollars, and I'll have what I can make out of them birds besides."
"There you go again," said Hobson, in a tone of disgust. "You mustn't go to work the first thing and kill the goose that lays the golden egg. If you begin on the first day of September, when the pa'tridge season opens, and shoot all them birds, there won't be none left for Joe to watch; and then old man Warren will tell Joe that he don't need him any longer. See the point?"
"I'd be stone blind if I couldn't see it," answered Silas, "and it makes me madder than I was before. Don't you understand that old Warren means to perfect them birds till they have increased to as many as a million, mebbe, and then he'll bring in a lot of his city friends and shoot 'em for fun—for fun, mind you—while poor folks like me andyou, who need the money we could make out of 'em to buy grub and clothes—we'll be took up if we so much as set foot on t'other side his fences. Dog-gone such doings! 'Tain't right nor justice that it should be so, and I ain't going to stand it no longer. Thank goodness, I won't have to! I've got a plan in my head that'll—hum!"
Hobson made no response. Indeed, he did not seem to hear what Silas said to him, for he was straining his ears to catch the conversation that was-carried on by Mr. Warren and the surveyor, who were now coming up the bank.
He must have heard more than he wanted to, for, with an oath and a threat that made the ferryman's hair stand on end, Hobson hurried toward the place where he had left his horse. He mounted and rode away.
Mr. Warren and the surveying party left a few minutes later, followed by the commissioner and his jury; and Silas turned about and walked slowly toward his cabin.
He had not made many steps before he found himself confronted by his hopeful son Dan.
"Well," said Silas, cheerfully, "we won't have to pull that heavy flat across the river many more days, and the next time you go over you can take your gun with you and put a charge of shot into that horn, if you feel like it. Hallo! What's the matter of you?"
Dan's clenched hands were held close by his side, his black eyes were flashing dangerously, and he stood before his father, looking the very picture of rage and excitement.
"Can't you speak, and tell me what's the matter of you?" demanded Silas, who could not remember when he had seen Dan in such a towering passion before. "I know it's mighty hard to give up the ferry just 'cause them rich folks down to the Beach have took it into their heads that they don't want one here, but we can make enough out of them birds of old man Warren's to—"
Dan interrupted his father with a gesture of impatience, and snapped his fingers in the air.
"I don't carethatfor the ferry," he sputtered. "I am glad to see it go, for it has brung me more backaches than dimes, I tell you."
"Well, then, what's the matter of you?" Silas once more inquired. "You'd best make that tongue of your'n more lively, if you want me to listen to you, 'cause I ain't got no time to waste. I'm going in to talk to that Joe of our'n about the job that old man Warren offered to give him."
These words had a most surprising effect upon Dan. He bounded into the air like a rubber ball, knocked his heels together, and yelled loudly for somebody to hold him on the ground.
"Of all the mean fellers in the world that I ever see, that Joe of our'n is the beatenest," said he, as soon as he could speak. "Now, pap, wait till I tell you, and see if you don't say so yourself."
The ferryman, recalling some words that Dan let fall during their hurried interview in the cabin, told himself that he knew right where the trouble was; but he listened attentively to the story, which the angry boy related substantially as follows:
While Dan was taking his ease on the bank, and Joe was hauling in the sweeps andmaking the flat secure, Mr. Warren came up, arriving on the ground five or ten minutes before the commissioner and the surveying party got there.
He hitched his horse to the nearest tree, walked down the bank, and greeted Joe with a hearty good-morning, paying no attention to Dan, who was so highly enraged at this oversight or willful neglect on the part of the wealthy visitor, that he shook his fist at him as soon as he turned his back.
He was not long in finding out what brought Mr. Warren there, for he distinctly overheard every word that passed between him and Joe.
As he listened, the expression of rage that had settled on his face gradually gave place to a look of surprise and delight; and finally Dan became wonderfully good-natured, and showed it by rubbing his hands together, grinning broadly, and winking at the trees on the opposite bank of the river.
"Well, Joseph," said Mr. Warren, cheerfully, "going to school next term?"
"I am afraid I can't," replied Joe, sadly."I don't see how I can afford it. Mother needs every cent I can give her. I must work every day, and shall be glad to cut some wood for you, if you will give me the chance."
"Then you can cut it by yourself, I bet you," muttered Dan. "I won't help you; I'd rather hunt and trap."
"I shall need a good supply of wood," said Mr. Warren, "but I thought of giving your father and Dan a chance at that."
"Thank-ee for nothing," said Dan, under his breath. "Pap can take the job if he wants to, but I won't tech it. I am getting tired of doing such hard work, and am on the lookout for something easy."
"I think I have better work for you, Joe," continued the visitor; whereupon Dan, who had thrown himself at full length on the bank, straightened up and began listening with more eagerness. "It is something that will take up every moment of your time during the day, and if you do your duty faithfully, you will find the work quite as hard and wearisome as chopping wood, and more confining; but you will have yourevenings to yourself, and abundant opportunity to do as much reading and studying as you please. You know that one of our greatest men, Martin Van Buren, laid the foundation of his knowledge by studying by the light of a pine-knot on the hearth after his day's work was over. But you will not have to do that. I will give you a warm, comfortable house to live in, supply your table from my own, lend you books from my library, and furnish you with a lamp to read and study by. If you lay up a little information on some useful subject every day, you will have quite a store on hand by the time winter is over."
"What sort of a job is that, do you reckon?" said Dan to himself. "It's a soft thing, so far as the perviding goes, but what's the work? that's the p'int."
It must have been the very question Joe was revolving in his mind, for when Mr. Warren ceased speaking, he asked:
"What will you expect me to do in return for all this?"
"I am coming to that," answered the visitor, moving a step or two nearer to Joe, whileDan leaned as far forward as he could, stretched out his long neck and placed one hand behind his ear, so that he might catch every word. "You know that I have about six thousand acres of woodland, which is so utterly worthless that no man, who had his senses about him, would take it as a gift if he had to clear and cultivate it. It isn't even good enough for pasture; but it was a tolerably fair shooting-ground until I was foolish enough to build that hotel down there at the Beach. That brought in a crowd of city sportsmen, and between them and the resident market-shooters, the game, both large and small, has been pretty well cleaned out."
"Well, what of it," muttered Dan. "If I know anything about such matters, them deer and birds and rabbits belonged to us poor folks as much as they did to you."
"I like to shoot occasionally," Mr. Warren went on, "but the last time I went up there with a party of friends, we did not get enough to pay us for the tramp we took; so two years ago I went to considerable expense to restock those woods, and even offered to paythe market-shooters if they would let the birds alone until they had time to increase. But they wouldn't do it, and the consequence was that the English partridges and quails that cost me six dollars a pair were served up on somebody's dinner-table."
"Six dollars a pair!" whispered Dan, who could hardly believe that he had heard aright. "Pap didn't by no means get that much for them he shot. It's nice to be rich."
"My experience with those birds," continued Mr. Warren, "proved to my satisfaction that they are hardy and able to endure our severe winters. So I determined to try it again, and day before yesterday I turned down a hundred pairs of English partridges and quails—six hundred dollars' worth."
Dan was almost ready to jump from the ground when he heard this, and it was all he could do to refrain from giving audible expression to his delight.
"Whoop-pee!" was Dan's mental exclamation. "I've struck a banana. Me and pap I'll get rich the first thing you know. But what makes old man Warren come here to tell us about it?"
"I certainly hope you will be able to preserve them this time," said Joe, who could not see what these expensive birds had to do with the comfortable home, the unlimited supply of books, and the good living, of which his visitor had spoken. "It would be a great pity to lose them after going to so much trouble and paying out so much money for them."
"That's what I think, and it is what Mr. Hallet thinks, also. You know his wood-lot adjoins mine—there is no fence between them—and he has turned down the same number."
The eavesdropper fairly gasped for breath when he heard this; but quickly recovering from his amazement, he raised his hands before his face, with all the fingers spread out, and began a little problem in arithmetic.
"That makes—makes—le' me see! By Moses it makes twelve—twelve hundred dollars' worth of birds. I'm going to sell that old muzzle-loader of mine the first good chance I get, and buy a breech-loader, and one of them j'inted fish-poles, and some of them fine hunting clothes, and—whoop-pee! I've struck two bananas; and I'll look as spick and span as the best of them city sportsmen by this time next year. But look a-here, a minute, Dan," he added, to himself, confidentially, "Don't you say a word to pap about them birds that's been turned loose on Hallet's place. Them's your'n, and you don't go halvers with no living person."
"The difficulty in preserving them lies right here," said Mr. Warren. "Our native birds are protected by law during certain months in the year, but the law doesn't say a word about imported game. If I catch aman shooting over my grounds in the close season, I can have him arrested and fined; but he could shoot these English birds before my face, and I could not help myself. We hope some day to induce the Legislature to pass a law protecting imported as well as native game; but until we can do that, we must protect it ourselves to the best of our ability. We have men at work now posting our land, and hereafter any one who sets a foot over my fence or Hallet's will be liable for trespass.
"I reckon you'll have to catch him before you can prove anything agin him, won't you?" soliloquized Dan. "But why don't he tell that Joe of our'n what he wants of him?"
"Of course, Mr. Hallet and myself have enough to do without spending valuable time in watching these birds," added the visitor, "and so we have decided to employ game-wardens to do it for us. There will be two wardens, one for each place, and we shall pay them out of our own pockets. I have selected you because I believe you to be honest and faithful, and I know that you are ambitiousto better your condition. I am always on the lookout for such boys, and when I find one I like to give him a helping hand."
"Then it's mighty strange that you never diskivered me," said Dan, to himself. "If there's anybody in the world who wants awful bad to be something better'n the ragged vagabone he is, I am that feller. Dog-gone such luck as I do have, any way! Why didn't he offer that soft job to me, instead of giving it to that Joe of our'n? I am older'n he is, and it would be the properest thing for me to have the first chance."
"It is worth something to live up there in the woods alone for eight months—from the first of September to the last of April—but your surroundings will be as pleasant as they can be made under the circumstances. In the first place, there is a tight log-house, with a carpet on the floor, and a lean-to behind it to serve as a wood-shed. You know that the fierce winter winds drive the snow into pretty deep drifts up there in the mountains, and if you are as provident as I think you are, you will keep that shed full. You don't want toturn out of a stormy morning, when the mercury is below zero, to cut fire-wood, when you ought to be scattering grain around for the birds to eat. There is plenty of furniture in the cabin, and all the dishes you will be likely to need. I have spent a good many months in camp, first and last, and being posted, I don't think I have forgotten anything. Your pay, which you can have as often as you want it, will be fifteen dollars a month," said Mr. Warren in conclusion. "That is as much as farm-hands command hereabout, and you will be much better off than a woodchopper, because you will be earning money all the while, no matter how bad the weather may be. What do you say?"
Dan listened with all his ears to catch his brother's reply, but, to his great surprise, Joe did not make any reply.
"What's the fool studying about, do you reckon?" was the inquiry which Dan propounded to himself. "Why don't he speak up and say he'll take it? If he does, me and pap will have easy times with them birds, 'cause of course Joe wouldn't be mean enoughto pester us. But if he don't take it, and old man Warren gets somebody else for game-warden, then the case will be different, and me and pap will have to watch out."
"You don't say anything, Joe," continued Mr. Warren, seeing that the boy hesitated and hung his head. "If you must work during the coming winter instead of going to school, I don't think you can find any employment that will be more to your liking."
"I know I couldn't, sir," replied Joe, quickly; "but that isn't what I am thinking about. The fact is—you see—"
The boy paused and looked down at the ground again. He knew that his own father was more to blame than any one else for the loss of the birds that had been "turned down" in Mr. Warren's wood-lot two years before, and it was not quite clear to Joe how his wealthy visitor could have so much confidence in him. Why should he wish to employ the son of the man who had robbed him, to keep trespassers off his grounds, and exercise supervision over the new supply of game he had just purchased?
And there was another thing that came into his mind:
Silas Morgan and Dan were two of the most notorious poachers in the county, and Joe knew that when the grouse season opened, they would be the very first to shoulder their guns, call their dogs to heel and start for Mr. Warren's woods.
If he accepted the position offered him, it would be his duty to order them off. They wouldn't go, of course, and the next thing would be to report them to Mr. Warren, who, beyond a doubt, would have warrants issued for their arrest.
That would be bad indeed, Joe told himself; but would it cause him any more sorrow than he felt whenever he saw his mother setting out on one of those long fatiguing walks to the house of a neighbor, where she earned the pitiful sum of a dollar by doing a hard day's work at washing or scrubbing? The money he could give her every month would save her all that, and provide her with many things that were necessary to her comfort.
When Joe thought of his mother, his hesitation vanished.
"I'll take it, Mr. Warren," said he, with an air of resolution, "and I am very grateful indeed to you for offering it to me. Now, will you tell me when you want me to go up there, and just what you expect me to?"
To Dan's great disappointment and disgust, Mr. Warren took Joe by the arm, and led him away out of earshot; but he heard him say something about shooting all the stray dogs that came into the woods, because they would do more damage among the few deer that were left, than so many wolves, and that was all he learned that day regarding Joe's instructions.
"Luck has come my way at last!" exclaimed Dan, who, for some reason or other seemed to be highly excited. "I can't hardly hold myself on the ground. I'll go down to old man Hallet's this very minute, and tell him that if he's needing a game-warden, I'm the chap he's waiting for. Then mebbe I won't have a nice little house all to myself, and good grub to grow fat on, as well as thatJoe of our'n. I won't do no shooting, 'cause that would make too much noise, and give me away to old man Hallet; but I'll do a heap of trapping and snaring, I bet you. Hallo! who's them fellers?"
Dan had just caught sight of a large party of men, who were coming along the road which led from the ferry to the Beach.
Believing that they were about to cross the river, and that there was another hard pull in prospect with no money (for him) behind it, Dan was about to take to his heels, when some words that came to his ears arrested his footsteps.
The new-comers were the road commissioner and his party. They did not look toward Dan at all, and neither did they take the least pains to conceal the object of their visit from him.
"This is the place for the new bridge," said the surveyor. "It will cost the town a good deal less money to fix up the old log road in good shape, than it will to cut out and grade a new highway."
"And when the bridge is up, we shall bewell rid of two nuisances—Hobson's grog-shop and Morgan's ferry, neither of which ought to have been tolerated as long as they have been," remarked one of the twelve freeholders, who had been summoned by the commissioner to determine where the bridge and the new road should be located. "When the other bridge is demolished, and the lower road shut up, the travel will have to come this way."
When Dan heard this, he felt like throwing his hat into the air. He hated the tooting of that horn, which was kept hung up on the limb of a tree on the other side of the river, as he hated no other sound in the world; and he was glad to know that he would soon hear it for the last time.
He did not make any demonstrations of delight, however, but stole silently away to carry the news to his father.
Joe's good fortune, and his own bright dreams of becoming Mr. Hallet's game-warden, at fifteen dollars a month, and the best kind of food thrown in, were uppermost in his mind, and they were the first things heintended to speak about when his father admitted him into the cabin; but he was so long in coming to the point that Silas grew impatient, and did not give him an opportunity to mention his own affairs at all.
"No matter; they'll keep," thought the boy, as the ferryman put on his hat and went out to talk to Hobson. "Now I wish old Warren would hurry up and go about his business, so't I can find out what 'rangements he's made with that Joe of our'n."
Dan had not long to wait. Even while he was communing with himself in this way, Mr. Warren took his leave, first shaking Joe warmly by the hand, and Dan lost no time in stepping to his brother's side.
"I don't wonder that you look like you was half tickled to death," was the way in which Dan began the conversation with his brother. "Did you ever dream that me and you would have such amazing good luck as has come to us this day? Now, let me tell you, it bangs me completely. Don't it you?"
Joe did not know how to reply to this. He had seldom seen Dan in so high spirits, and he could not imagine what he was referring to when he spoke of the good luck that had fallen to both of them.
"Say—don't it bang you?" repeated Dan. "Ain't me and you going to live like the richest of them this winter?"
"You and I?" said Joe, with no suspicion of the truth in his mind.
"That's what I remarked," exclaimed Dan, who could hardly keep from dancing in the excess of his joy. "I tell you, Joe," he added, confidentially, "if there's anything in life I take pleasure in, it's living in the woods during the winter, when you've got a tight roof to shelter you and plenty of firewood to burn, so't you don't have to go through the deep snow to cut it. That's what I call living, that is."
"I don't see how you happen to know so much about it. You never tried it."
"I know I never did; but didn't I tell you almost the very first word I said, that I'm going to try it this winter?"
"Oh!" said Joe, who now thought he began to understand the matter. "Are you going to be Mr. Hallet's game-warden?"
"Perzackly. You've hit centre the first time trying."
"Then I wonder why Mr. Warren did not say something to me about it."
And there was still another thing that caused Joe to wonder, although he made no reference to it. How did it come that Mr.Hallet, who knew how persistently Dan broke the law in regard to snaring birds and hares, and shooting out of season—how did it come that he had selected this poacher to act as his game-warden? He might as well have hired a wolf to watch his sheep.
"Now wait till I tell you," said Dan hastily. "The thing ain't quite settled yet, 'cause I ain't had no time to run down and see old man Hallet; but—"
"Aha!" exclaimed Joe.
"There ain't no 'aha' about it," cried Dan, who was angry in an instant. "Wait till I tell you. I ain't been down to see old man Hallet yet, but I'm going directly, and I'm going to say to him that if he wants somebody to keep an eye on them birds of his'n, I'm the man he's looking for. He'll be glad to take me, of course, 'cause if there's any one in the whole country who knows all about a game-warden's business, its me. But if he can't take me—if he has picked out another man before I get a chance to speak to him—me and you will go halvers on them hundred and twenty, won't we?"
"No, we won't," replied Joe, promptly.
"What for, won't we?" demanded Dan.
"For a good many reasons. In the first place, Mr. Warren seems to think that he needs but one warden, and that I can do all the work myself."
"Well, you can't, and you shan't, neither," Dan almost shouted.
And in order to show his brother how very much in earnest he was about it, he struck up a war-dance, and called loudly for somebody to hold him on the ground.
"And in the next place," continued Joe, who had witnessed these ebullitions of rage often enough to know that they never ended in anything more serious than an unnecessary expenditure of breath and strength on Dan's part—"in the next place, every cent I make this winter will go to mother, with the exception of the little I shall need to clothe myself."
"I'll bet you a good hoss that it don't," roared Dan, who was so angry that it was all he could do to keep from laying violent hands upon his brother. "Now let me tell youwhat's the gospel truth, Joe Morgan: If you don't go pardners with me in this business, I'll bust up the whole thing. If I don't get half them hundred and twenty dollars, you shan't have a cent to bless yourself with. I've been kicked and slammed around till I am tired of it, and I ain't going to ask my consent to stand it no longer."
"If you want money, go to work and earn it for yourself," said Joe. "You can't have any of mine."
"I'll show you whether I will or not. Now, let me tell you: I'll make more out of them birds this winter than you will. You're awful smart, but you'll find that there are them in the world that are just as smart as you be."
"I know what you mean by that," answered Joe, who had fully made up his mind to see trouble with Dan. "Now let me tellyousomething: If I catch you on Mr. Warren's grounds after I take charge of them, you will wish you had stayed away, mind that. I took this position because mother needs money, and having accepted it, I shalllook out for my employer's interests the best I know how. But why do you go against me in this way? You ought to help me all you can."
"Then why don't you help me?" retorted Dan.
"You don't need it. You are able to help yourself, because you have no one else to look out for."
"Then I won't help you, neither. You want to keep a close watch over that shanty of your'n, or the first thing you know, you will come back to it some dark, cold night, almost froze to death, and it won't be there."
Joe walked off without making any reply, and Dan stood shaking his fists at him until he disappeared. Then he turned about to find himself face to face with his father, to whom he told his story, not forgetting to make a few artful additions, which he hoped would have the effect of making the ferryman as angry at Joe as he was himself.
A disinterested listener would have thought that Joe was the meanest brother any fellowever had, and that Dan was deserving of better treatment at his hands.
"Now, I just want you to tell me what you think of that," said Dan, as he brought his highly-seasoned narrative to a close. "He's a most scandalous stingy chap, that Joe of our'n is. He wants to keep his good things all to himself. And—would you believe it, pap, if I didn't tell you?—he said he would as soon shoot your dog or mine as look at 'em, and that if we come fooling around where he was, he'd have us tooken up, sure pop."
Silas Morgan's eyes flashed, and an angry scowl settled on his swarthy face.
Dan was succeeding famously in his efforts to arouse his father's ire against the unoffending Joe—at least he thought so—and he hoped to increase it until it broke out into some violent demonstration.
"Them's his very words, pap," continued Dan, with unblushing mendacity. "Since he took up with that rich man awhile ago, he has outgrowed his clothes, and me and you ain't good enough for him. Me and Joe couldhave had just the nicest kind of times up there in the woods, and by doing a little extry work on the sly, we could have snared enough of old man Warren's birds, and Hal—um!"
Dan caught his breath just in time. He was about to say that he and Joe could have snared enough of Mr. Warren's birds and Hallet's to run the amount of their joint earnings up to two hundred dollars; but he suddenly remembered that his father was not yet aware that Mr. Hallet's covers had been freshly stocked, and thatthatwas a matter that was to be kept from his knowledge, so that Dan could have the field to himself.
But the ferryman was quick to catch some things, if he was dull in comprehending others, and Dan had inadvertently given him an idea to ponder over at his leisure.
"But then I don't care for such trifling things as birds any more," said Silas to himself. "If Hallet has been fooling away his money for more pa'tridges, Dan can have the fun of shooting 'em, if he wants it; and while he is tramping around through the coldlooking for 'em, I'll be snug and warm at home, living like a lord on the money I took out of that cave up there in the mountings. What was you saying, Dannie?"
"I said that me and Joe could have made right smart by doing a little trapping on the quiet," answered Dan. "But he wouldn't hear to my going up there to live with him. What's grub enough for one is grub enough for two, and I could have had piles of things that come from old man Warren's table, and never cost you a red cent the whole winter. More than that, being on the ground all the while, it wouldn't be no trouble at all for me to knock over one of them deer now and then, and that would save you from buying so much bacon; but that mean Joe of our'n he wouldn't hear to it, and now I'm going to knock all his 'rangements higher'n the moon."
"What be you going to do, Dannie?" Silas asked, in a voice so calm and steady that the boy backed off a step or two and looked at him suspiciously.
Was his father about to side with Joe?Dan was really afraid of it, and his voice did not have that resolute ring in it when he answered:
"I'm going to set some snares up there where Joe won't never think of looking for them, and by the time Christmas gets here I'll have every one of them English birds in the market and sold for cash."
The ferryman thrust one hand deep into his pocket, and shook the other menacingly at Dan.
"Look a-here, son," said he, in a tone which he never assumed unless he meant that his words should carry weight with them, "you just keep away from old man Warren's woods, and let them English birds be. Are you listening to your pap?"
"What for?" Dan almost gasped.
"'Cause why; that's what for," was the not very satisfactory answer. "You want to pay right smart heed to what I'm saying to you, 'cause if you don't, I'll wear a hickory out over your back, big as you think you be."
"Well, if this ain't a trifle the beatenest thing I ever heard of, I don't want a cent,"began Dan, who was utterly amazed. "Do you want them—that rich feller to have all the fine shooting to himself?"
"That ain't what I'm thinking about just now," replied the ferryman. "I want Joe to earn them hundred and twenty dollars; see the p'int?"
"Not all of it?" exclaimed Dan.
"Yes, every cent."
"Can't I make him go pardners with me?"
"No, you can't. I want Joe to have the handling of it all."
"Then you won't never see none of it; you can bet high on that."
"Yes, I reckon I'll see the whole of it. You and Joe ain't twenty-one year old yet, and the law gives me the right to take every cent you make."
For a moment Dan stood speechless with rage and astonishment; but quickly recovering the use of his tongue, he squared himself for a fight, and demanded furiously:
"And is that the reason you never give me a red for breaking my back with that ferry? Whoop! hold me on the ground, somebody!"
"If I had a good hickory in my hands, I reckon I could very soon make you willing to hold yourself on the ground," said his father, calmly.
"Whoop!" yelled Dan, jumping into the air, and knocking his heels together. "This bangs me; don't it you? The men who was here just now said you was one nuisance, and Hobson was another; and I am so glad that the business is clean busted up, that—"
Silas suddenly thrust out one of his long arms, but his fingers closed upon the empty air instead of upon Dan's collar. The boy escaped his grasp by ducking his head like a flash, and then he straightened up and took to his heels.
Silas Morgan made no attempt at pursuit, for he had learned by experience that he could not hold his own with Dan in a foot-race; but he knew how to bide his time.
"Never mind, son," he shouted. "I'll catch you to-night after you have gone to bed."
"These threatening words arrested Dan's headlong flight, and he stopped to shout back:
"You just lay an ugly hand onto me, and it'll be worse for you and them setter dogs that you've got shut up in the wood-shed. I know well enough that nobody ever give 'em to you, and that that man with the long black whiskers who was here last year would be willing to give something handsome—"
The ferryman couldn't stand it any longer,for the boy was getting too near the truth to suit him. He began looking about on the ground for something to throw at him; whereupon Dan turned and took to his heels again, and quickly disappeared around the corner of the cabin.
"I wish that black-whiskered man had them setter dogs, and that I was shet of them," muttered Silas, as he walked slowly up the bank. "I did think that mebbe I could get a big reward for giving them back; but I don't care for such things now. The money that's hid in the cave is what I'm thinking of these times."
The ferryman was left to his own devices for the rest of the day; for Joe, highly elated over his unexpected fortune, had gone to meet his mother, so that he might tell her the good news without being overheard by any of the rest of the family, and Dan was on his way to Mr. Hallet's to offer him his services as game-warden.
But Silas was glad to be alone at this particular time, for he had something mysterious and exciting to think about—a cave in themountains that had an abundance of treasure in it. He had long looked forward to something of this sort, for he had often dreamed about it; and when he read in a torn newspaper, which came from the store wrapped around one of his wife's bundles, that some workmen, while digging for the foundations of a public building in a distant city, had come upon an earthen jar that was filled to the brim with American and Mexican coins of ancient date—when he read this, Silas took it as an omen that his bright dreams of acquiring wealth without labor were on the eve of being realized.
The man's first care was to let out the dogs and unhitch the horse from the wood-rack, and his second to hunt up a shady spot on the bank and look for the letter which he had stowed away in his pocket.
But it was not to be found. The ferryman's clothes, like all the other things that belonged to him, were sadly in need of repairs, and when he went to shut up the dogs, the letter had worked its way through his pocket, down the leg of his trowsers, and fallen to theground in front of the wood-shed door, where it lay until Dan came along and picked it up.
Meanwhile Joe was strolling leisurely along the road in the direction from which he knew his mother would come, when her day's work was over.
"She will be glad to learn that she has done her last washing and scrubbing for other folks," the boy kept saying to himself. "When winter comes, and the roads are blocked with drifts, she can sit down in front of a warm fire and stay there, instead of wading through the deep snow to earn a dollar. I am in a position to take care of her now, and I could do it easy enough if father and Dan would only let me alone. They call me stingy because I will not share my hard earnings with them; but they never think of sharing with me, nor did I ever see one of them give mother anything. On the contrary, if they know that she's got a dime or two saved up for a rainy day, they never give her a minute's peace till they get it for themselves. Now, is there any way I can work it so that mother can have everything shewants, and yet be able to say that she hasn't got a cent in the house?"
While Joe was revolving this problem in his mind, he heard a familiar bark behind him, and faced about to see his brother Dan approaching on a dog-trot. He was followed by the only friend and companion he had in the world—a little black cur, which no self-respecting boy would have accepted as a gift.
But mean and insignificant as he looked, Bony was of great use to his master. He was the best coon, grouse and squirrel dog in the country for miles around, and it was by his aid that Dan earned money to buy his clothes and ammunition. Bony got more kicks than caresses in return for his services, but that did not seem to lessen his affection for Dan.
"I allowed that I knew where you was gone, and that I'd come up with you directly," said the latter, as soon as he arrived within speaking distance. "Say, Joe, have you thought over that little plan of mine?"
Joe replied that he had not.
"Then, why don't you think it over?" continued Dan. "Of course, I don't expect youto go pardners with me for nothing. I've got my consent to do all I can to help you. I'll even agree to cut the wood, cook the grub, keep the shanty in order, and do all the rest of the mean work, while you are taking your ease or looking after the birds. All you've got to do is to say the word, and me and you will have the finest kind of times this winter."
But Joe didn't say the word. In fact, he did not say anything, and, of course, his silence made Dan angry again. The latter was bound to handle at least a portion of his brother's wages, and he did not care what course he took to accomplish his object.
"You ain't forgot what I told you awhile back, I reckon, have you?" said Dan, with suppressed fury.
"No, I haven't forgotten it. I can recall everything you said to me."
"Then, why don't you pay some heed to it? Do you want to see your business busted up? Look a here, Joe Morgan: You say you are going to give all that there money to mam. If you do, I'll have some of it in spite of you. I'll tell mam that I want my share,and she'll hand it over without no words, 'cause she knows well enough that I'll turn the house out doors if she don't do as I say. She's heard me calling for somebody to hold me on the ground, and she don't like to see me that way, 'cause she knows I'm mad."
"I know that you have worried a good deal of money out of mother, first and last," said Joe, angrily, "but you needn't think you can frighten her into giving you any of mine, because she won't have any."
"You stingy, good-for-nothing scamp! you're going back on your mam, are you?" shouted Dan, who could scarcely believe that he was not dreaming. "I never thought that of you. You're going to have the softest kind of a job all winter, and make stacks and piles of money, and never give a cent of it to mam, be you?"
"Mother will have everything she wants, but still she will not touch a cent of my earnings," answered Joe, calmly.
"Whoop! Hold me on the ground, somebody!" yelled Dan, striking up his war dance. "Then how'll mam get the things she wants?"
"On a written order, and in no other way."
"Who'll give that there order?"
"Mr. Warren, whom I shall ask to act as my banker. I've got to do something to keep you from bothering the life out of mother, and that is what I have decided upon."
"Whoop!" shouted Dan again. "Pap won't agree to no such bargain as that there, I bet you, and neither will I."
"What has father got to say about my business?"
"He's got a good deal to say about it, the first thing you know," answered Dan, with a triumphant air.
His only object in hastening on to overtake his brother was that he might torment him by calling his attention to a point of law that Joe had never thought of before.
"You ain't twenty-one year old yet, my fine feller, and pap's got the right to make you hand over every red cent you earn. He told me so; and he furder said that he was going to take the last dollar of them hundred and twenty that you are going to make this winter. So there, now. I told you that therewas them in the world that's just as smart as you think you be, and me and pap are the fellers. He's a mighty hard old chap to get the better of, pap is, and so be I. You can't do it nohow you fix it."
It looked that way, sure enough, thought Joe, who was greatly surprised and bewildered.
He knew very well that his father could take his earnings, if he were mean enough to do it, but, as we have said, the matter had never been brought home to him before. He had always given his money to his mother, and Silas had never raised any objection to it.
The reason was because he did not think of it, and besides, the amounts were too small to do him any good; they were not worth the rumpus which the ferryman knew would be raised about his ears if he interfered and tried to turn Joe's earnings into his own pocket.
But things were different now. The young game-warden's prospective wages amounted to a goodly sum in the aggregate, and Silas was resolved to "turn over a new leaf," and assert his authority as head of the house.
Joe, on the other hand, was fully determined that his mother alone should profit by his winter's work, and as he was a resolute fellow, and as fearless as a boy could be, it was hard to tell how the matter was destined to end. But there was trouble in store for him; there could be no doubt about that.
"What do you say now?" asked Dan, who had little difficulty in reading the thoughts that were passing through his brother's mind, they showed so plainly on his face. "You're thinking of kicking agin me and pap, but I tell you that you'd best not do it. Will you be sensible and go pardners, or have your business busted up?"
"Neither," answered Joe, turning so fiercely upon his persecutor that the latter recoiled a step or two. "Now, if you don't let me alone, I will go to Mr. Warren and see if he can find means to make you."
"Sho!" said Dan, with a grin, "you don't mean it?"
"Yes, I do. It may surprise you to know that you have put yourself in danger of being locked up."
"Not much, I ain't," said Dan, confidently. "I ain't done a single thing yet."
"But you have made threats, and Mr. Warren could have you put under bonds."
"He'd have lots of fun trying that," replied Dan, who laughed loudly at the idea of such a thing. "Why, man, I ain't got none."
"Of course you haven't, and you couldn't furnish them either, so you would have to go to jail."
"Great Moses!" Dan managed to ejaculate.
There was no grin on his face now, nor even the sign of one. He was astonished as well as frightened.
It had never occurred to him that his brother could invoke the law to protect him, but he saw it plainly enough now, and he knew by the way Joe looked at him that he had been crowded just about as far as he intended to go.
When the latter moved on down the road, Dan made no attempt to stop him. He backed toward a log, sat down on it, and kept his eyes fastened upon Joe until a bend in the road hid him from view.
"I don't know what answer to make you, boys. I have no desire to interfere with your pleasures, and I think you have always found me ready to listen to any reasonable proposition; but this latest scheme of yours looks to me to be a little—you know. I don't believe that Bob's father will consent to it."
"Suppose you give your consent, and then we will see what we can do with Bob's father. If we can say that you are willing, he'll come to terms without any coaxing."
"I don't see what objection there can be to it. We can't get into mischief up there in the mountains, and we'll promise to study hard every spare minute we get. There!"
"And be fully prepared to go on with our class when the spring term begins. Now!"
The first speaker was Mr. Hallet, who leaned back in his easy-chair and twirled his eye-glasses around his finger, while he looked at the two uneasy, mischief-loving boys who stood before him.
Tom Hallet was his nephew and ward, and Bob Emerson was the son of an old school-friend who lived in Bellville, ten miles away.
Bob, who was a fine, manly fellow, was a great favorite with both uncle and nephew, and had a standing invitation to spend all his vacations with them at their comfortable home among the Summerdale hills.
To quote from Bob, Mr. Hallet's house was eminently a place for a tired school-boy to get away to. The fishing in the lake, and in the clear, dancing streams that emptied into it, was fine; young squirrels were always abundant after the first of August; and when September came, the law was "off" on grouse, wild turkeys and deer. Hares and 'coons were plenty, and Tom's little beagle knew right where to go to find them. Better than all, according to the boys' way of thinking, Mr. Hallet was a jolly old bachelor, whothoroughly enjoyed life in a quiet way, and who meant that every one around him should do the same.
Taking all these things into consideration, it was little wonder that Bob Emerson looked forward to his yearly "outings" with the liveliest anticipations of pleasure.
The Summerdale hills, in days gone by, had been a hunter's paradise; but, sad to relate, their glory was fast passing away, like that of many another place which had once been noted for the abundance of its game and fish.
Mr. Warren, to use his own language, had been foolish enough to build a hotel at the Beach, and to connect it with Bellville by a stage route. This brought an influx of strangers, some of whom called themselves sportsmen, who did more to depopulate the woods and streams than Silas Morgan, Hobson, and a few others of that ilk, could have accomplished in a year's steady shooting and angling.
Their advent gave rise to a class of men who had never before been known in thatregion—to wit, guides. There were some good and honest ones among them, of course; but, as a rule, they were a shiftless, lawless class—men who lived from hand to mouth, and who looked upon game laws as so many infringements of their rights, which were to be defied and resisted in any way they could think of.
Up to the time the hotel was built, these men lived in utter ignorance of the fact that there were laws in force which prohibited hunting and fishing at certain seasons of the year; but one year the District Game Protector came up on the stage to look into things, and when he went back to Bellville he took with him a guide and his employer, whom he had caught in the act of shooting deer, when the law said that they should not be molested.
This unexpected interference with their bread and butter astonished and enraged the rest of the guides, who at once held an indignation meeting, and resolved that they would not submit to any such outrageous things as game laws, in the making ofwhich their opinions and desires had not been consulted.
They boldly declared that they would continue to hunt and fish whenever they felt like it, and any officer who came to the hills to stop them would be likely to get himself into business.
A few of the residents, including Mr. Warren and Mr. Hallet, had tried hard to bring about a better state of things.
They had gone to the expense of restocking their almost tenantless woods, and had been untiring in their efforts to have every poacher and law-breaker arrested and punished for his misdeeds; but all they had succeeded in doing thus far was to call down upon their heads the hearty maledictions of the whole ruffianly crew, who owed them a grudge and only awaited a favorable opportunity to pay it.
This was the way things stood on the morning that Tom Hallet, accompanied by his friend Bob, presented himself before his uncle, with the request that he would permit them to keep an eye on his English partridges and quails during the ensuing winter—inother words, that he would empower them to act as his game-wardens.
Mr. Hallet was not at all surprised, for the boys had sprung so many "hare-brained schemes" on him, that he was ready for anything; but still he took a few minutes in which to consider the proposition before he made them any reply.
"What in the world put that notion into your heads, anyway?" said Mr. Hallet, continuing the conversation which we have so unceremoniously interrupted. "Is it simply an excuse to get out of school for the winter?"
The boys indignantly denied that they had any idea of such a thing. They liked their school and everything connected with it; but they thought it would be fun to spend a few months in the woods. And since Uncle Hallet would have to employ somebody to act as game-warden, or run the risk of having all his costly birds killed by trespassers, why couldn't he employ them as well as any one else?
"Well, you two do think up the queerest ways for having fun that I even heard of,"said Mr. Hallet. "I know something about camp-life, and you don't; and I tell you—"
"Why, Uncle," exclaimed Tom, "haven't we already spent a whole week in camp since Bob came up here?"
"A whole week!" repeated Mr. Hallet. "Yes, and it tired you out, and you were glad enough to get home. I know that 'camping out' looks very well on paper, but I tell you that it is the hardest kind of work, even for a lazy person, to say nothing of a couple of uneasy youngsters, who can't keep still for five minutes at a time to save their lives. Besides, how do I know that you wouldn't shoot some of my blue-headed birds, as Morgan calls them?"
"Don't you suppose that we know a ruffed grouse from an English partridge or quail?" demanded Tom. "We are not so liable to make mistakes in that regard as others might be. Who is Mr. Warren going to hire for his warden?"
"I believe he has gone up to Morgan's to-day to speak to Joe about it."
"I don't know how that will work," saidBob, reflectively. "Joe is all right, but his father and brother are not, and I am afraid they will make trouble for him."
"I thought of that, and so did Warren," answered Mr. Hallet, "and it is a point that you two would do well to consider before you insist on going into the mountains this winter. I am told that Hobson is furious over the opening of the new road, and that he and a few of his friends have threatened to burn the houses Warren and I built up there in the woods, and to drive out anybody we may put there to act as game-wardens."
When Tom and Bob heard this, they exchanged glances that were full of meaning.
Uncle Hallet's words showed them that there was a prospect for excitement during the coming winter, and the knowledge of this fact made them all the more determined to carry their point.
"Oh, you needn't look at each other in that way," said Mr. Hallet, with a laugh. "I know what you are thinking about, and I have no notion of allowing you to do something to get these poachers and law-breakersdown on you. However I am going to the village directly, and perhaps I'll drop in and see what Bob's father thinks about it."
"Don't forget to tell him that we have your full and free consent," began Tom.
"But I haven't given it," interrupted Mr. Hallet, adjusting his eye-glasses across the bridge of his nose and reaching for his paper.
"And that we shall go along with all our lessons just as fast as the boys in school will," chimed in Bob.
"I'll not forget it; but I shall be much surprised at your father if he believes it."
Uncle Hallet resumed his reading, and the boys, taking this as a hint that he had said all he had to say on the subject, put on their hats and left the room.
"It's all right, Bob," said Tom, gleefully.
"I am sure of it," replied Bob. "We've got Uncle Hallet on our side, and it will be no trouble for him to talk father over. Now let's finish that letter to Mr. Morgan, and then go up and put it in his wood-pile."
So saying, Bob went up the stairs three at a jump, Tom following close at his heels.
When the boys reached the landing at the head of the stairs, they turned into Tom's room, the door of which stood invitingly open.
Bob seated himself at a table and picked up a pen, while Tom leaned over his shoulder and fastened his eyes upon the unfinished letter, to which reference was made at the close of the last chapter.
"Let's see—how far did we get?" said the latter. "I believe we were talking about a bank they were supposed to have robbed somewhere in California. Well, say that they took a pile of money—seventy thousand dollars out of it. But I say, Bob! That's awful bad printing. I don't know whether Silas can make out to read it or not."
"Then let him get somebody to help him,"answered Bob. "I can't be expected to furnish him with the key, after going to so much trouble to write the letter."
"But if he can't read it, what use will it be to him?" asked Tom.
"Probably he's got friends who can spell it out for him, and I'm sure I don't care how much publicity he gives it. 'And there we took out seventy thousand dollars,'" said Bob. "Go on; what next? They went to Canada after that, didn't they? There is where all the crooks go these days."
"Put it down, anyway. 'So we went to Canady (be careful about the spelling) and staid there till the country got too hot for us.' That reads all right," said Tom, throwing himself into the big rocking-chair, and wondering, like the minister in the "One-Hoss Shay," what the Moses should come next. "Don't forget to say something about the 'hant' who guards the treasure in the cave."
"Can't you wait till I come to the cave?" replied Bob, who could not print the letter as fast as his friend could think up things to put into it. "I don't altogether approve of thisghost business, anyway. I am afraid it will scare the old fellow so badly that he will make no attempt to find the treasure that is concealed in the cave."
"Don't you worry about that," Tom replied. "All we've got to do is to word the letter so that he will believe the money is really there, and he will go after it, even if he knew that he would have to face all the ghosts that ever haunted the Summerdale hills; and their name is legion, if there is any faith to be put in the stories I have heard."
"I say, Tom," exclaimed Bob, throwing down his pen and settling-back in his chair, "wouldn't it be a joke if some of those same ghosts should take it into their heads to visit us during the winter? It must be lonely up there in the mountains, when the roads are blocked with drifts, and all communication with the outside world is cut off, and wouldn't we feel funny if we should hear something go this way some dark and stormy night—b-r-r-r?"
Here Bob uttered a hollow groan, drew hishead down between his shoulders, and tried to shiver and look frightened.
"No doubt it would; but we shan't hear anything go this way—b-r-r-r," replied Tom, imitating Bob's groan as nearly as he could. "Now I think you had better go on with that letter, and I will draw the map that is to guide him in his search for the robbers' cave and plunder. We've wasted a good hour and a half already; and if we don't hurry up, we shan't be able to give him the letter to-day. Let me think a moment! There's a deep gorge about a quarter of a mile from Morgan's wood-pile, and I don't believe it has ever been explored. That would be a good place to put the cave, wouldn't it?"
Bob said he thought it would, and went on with his writing, while Tom hunted up a piece of paper and began drawing the map.
Bob pronounced it perfect when his friend presented it for his inspection, and indeed it ought to have been. There was no one in the neighborhood who was better acquainted with the hills than Silas Morgan, and if themap had guided him to a place that really had no existence, except in Tom's imagination, he would have known in a minute that somebody was trying to play a trick upon him.
The letter was finished at last, to the entire satisfaction of both the boys, and the next thing was to put it where the man for whom it was intended would be sure to find it.
Do you ask what it was that suggested to them the idea of making the shiftless and ignorant ferryman the victim of one of their practical jokes?
Simply an accident, coupled with the want of something to do, and their innate propensity to get fun out of everything that came in their way.
On the previous day they made it their business to stand guard over the English partridges and quails which Uncle Hallet had "turned down" in his wood-lot, and it so happened that they stopped to eat their lunch within a short distance of Silas Morgan's wood-pile, but out of sight of it. They heard the creaking of the ferryman's old wagon, ashis aged and infirm beast pulled it laboriously up the steep mountain-side, and not long afterward the setters, which accompanied Silas, wherever he went, spied out their resting-place.
But the animals did not give tongue, as they would no doubt have done if the boys had been utter strangers to them. They thankfully ate the bits of cracker and broiled squirrel that were tossed to them, and then went back to wait for Silas.
"That man has no more right to those valuable dogs than I have," said Bob. "They're worth a hundred dollars apiece, and no one ever gave a guide that much money in return for a single day's woodcock shooting. Who is he talking to, I wonder?"
"To no one," answered Tom. "He likes to talk to a sensible man, and he likes to hear a sensible man talk; consequently, he has a good deal to say to Silas Morgan. That's the fellow he is talking to."
And so it proved. The ferryman was engaged in an animated conversation with the ferryman, asking and answering the questionshimself, and so fully was his mind occupied with other matters, that it never occurred to him that possibly his words might be falling upon ears for which they were not intended.
Tom and his companion had no desire to play the part of eavesdroppers. They were not at all interested in what Silas was saying to himself—at least they thought so; but it turned out otherwise.
Having finished their lunch, they began making preparations to set out for home; but in the meantime Silas reached the wood-pile, and, leaning heavily upon his wagon, he gave utterance to his thoughts in much the same words as those we used at the beginning of this story.
"I just know that I wasn't born to do no such mean work as I've been called to do all my life," declared Silas, stooping over, and throwing the perspiration from his forehead with his bent finger. "I can't get my consent to slave and toil in this way much longer, while there are folks all around me who never do a hand's turn. They can loaf around and take their ease from morning till night, whileI—wait till I tell you. Such things ain't right, and I won't stand it much longer. The other night I dreamed of that robber's cave, with piles of gold and greenbacks into it, and yesterday I read about the finding of that earthen crock that was plumb full of money; so't I know I shall be a rich man some day. 'Pears to me that day isn't so very far off, neither. If I should come up here some time and find a letter telling me where there was a robber's cave with stacks and piles of money in it, I shouldn't be at all astonished; would you?"
"Not in the least," whispered Bob, giving his friend a prod in the ribs with his elbow; whereupon Tom laid his finger by the side of his nose and winked first one eye and then the other, to show that he fully understood Bob.
"Stranger things than that have happened," continued Silas, in a voice that was plainly audible to the two boys behind the evergreens, "and I don't see why it can't happen to me as well as to anybody else. Wouldn't that be a joyful day to me, though? I'd bust up that flat the very first thing I did, and tell thefellers that tooted the horn that I was done being servant for them or anybody else. No, I wouldn't do that, either," added Silas, after reflecting a minute. "I'd give it to Dan and Joe to make a living with, and then I wouldn't have to spend any of my fortune on their grub and clothes."
"What a stingy old hulks he is!" whispered Bob, as the ferryman took a reluctant step toward the wood-pile. "I say, Tom, don't you think there is a robber's cave about here somewhere? I should think there ought to be, with so many ghosts hanging around. It don't look to me as though they could be here for nothing."
"That's what I think," replied Tom, in the same cautious whisper. "I shouldn't wonder a bit if there was a freebooter's stronghold somewhere in these mountains."
"With lots of money in it?" continued Bob.
"Piles of it," said Tom. "As much as there is in the treasury at Washington."
Bob turned toward his friend with a look of indignant astonishment on his face.
"And you knew it all the time, and never told Silas about it!" he exclaimed. "Can't you see how badly he wants it, and how confident he is that he is going to get it? You ought to have attended to it long ago."
"You're very right," said Tom, meekly. "Now I will tell you what I'll do: If you will print a letter—it must be printed, you know, for Silas can't read writing—telling how the money got into the cave in the first place, I'll draw a map that will aid him in finding it."
Bob said it was a bargain, and the two boys shook hands on it; after which they again turned their attention to the ferryman, who kept up his soliloquy while he was loading the wood on the wagon. The burden of it was that his lot in life was a very hard one, that he never worked except under protest, and that he firmly believed that the future had something better in store for him.