CHAPTER XVII
THE EXPERT COLUMBIA.
"STAND perfectly still, boys," said Mr. Swan, when he and his young friends halted on the bank of the creek and discovered that their boats had vanished during their brief absence. "Stand still, or you'll muss the ground up so that I can't see the villain's tracks."
"You don't think they have been stolen, do you?" exclaimed Arthur Hastings.
"I don't think nothing else," answered the guide. "I've handled a boat too long to go away and leave it without pulling it so far out on the bank that the current can't carry it off. I've noticed that you are middling particular about that, too. Of course our boats were stolen. It's one of Matt Coyle's tricks."
"Well, I am beat!" cried Joe.
"And under our very noses, too," exclaimed Roy.
"It isn't quite as bad as that, but it's bad enough," said Mr. Swan, who was angry as well as surprised. "This is the second time he has played this game on us, and I don't see why I didn't tell one of you to stay here."
While the guide talked he scraped a few dry leaves and twigs together and touched them off with a match. When they blazed up more fuel was thrown on, and presently Roy pointed out something. It was the print of a big foot in the mud close to the water's edge.
"What better evidence do you want than that?" said Mr. Swan. "Matt Coyle is the only man about Indian Lake who wears such a shabby foot-gear and the only one who lugs a hoof of that size around with him. I know, for I have followed his trail plenty of times."
"Then he must have been the one who kindled that fire."
"It's very likely."
"He may have been intending to camp there for the night when we frightened him away," added Arthur.
"He may have been in camp," assented the guide, "but we never frightened him. He had wind of our coming long before we got here. Of course I don't know how he got it, but that's the way the thing stands."
"Well, what's to be done?"
"Nothing at all to-night. We'll camp right where we are, and at daylight we'll go back to the hatchery."
"Camp right here," repeated Joe, dolefully. "No blankets, no supper to eat, and no nothing.
Go back to the hatchery," murmured Roy, "and confess ourselves beaten again by that villain, Matt Coyle. Oh, we're the best kind of fellows to go on a hunt after so cunning a criminal as Matt, ain't we?"
Arthur Hastings was too angry to say any thing except that he was glad the squatter had not run away with his gun as well as his skiff. Mr. Swan was equally glad to have his beloved brier-root and a plentiful supply of smoking tobacco in his pocket. If he had left them in his canoe, as he usually did, he would have had the prospect of a miserable night before him. As it was, he smoked and told stories, and in listening to them the boys forgot that they had no blankets to cover them, and that they would not find a bite to eat till they reached the hatchery the next day.
When morning came Joe and his friends had nothing to do but brush the leaves from their clothes, smooth their hair with their hands, perform their ablutions in the creek, and then they were ready for their ten-mile walk. Mr. Swan spent a few minutes in looking about Matt's old camp, but did not find any thing to tell him how long it had been deserted or which way the squatter and his family had gone. They arrived at the hatchery tired and hungry, and the bountiful breakfast the superintendent placed before them was a tempting sight. That official laughed when he heard how Matt had stolen up behind them and run off with their boats, and scowled when Roy told him what he and his boys had done in their camp at No-Man's Pond.
"Why, what in the world could have put it into Matt's head that you had the money?" inquired the superintendent; and without waiting for an answer he continued: "It beats the world where that money has gone, but I think we'll soon get on the track of it. Did you see the watchman as you came by his shanty? Then perhaps you don't know that the old woman was taken into custody last night?"
"No," replied Joe. "We hadn't heard of that. What's the charge?"
"Oh, she was taken in on general principles. I don't suppose she can be held as an accessory, for she hasn't gumption enough to suggest or plan the robberies that her worthy husband has committed; but she knew all about them and can give the officers more help than any body else. You see, ever since Matt and his family left Rube's cabin, the deputy sheriff has taken to sleeping there; and last night who should come poking along but the old woman! When she found that she was a prisoner, she lost heart and answered all the questions the sheriff asked her. She didn't have the pluck to stand out, and I don't wonder at it. She looked as though she was almost starved. She ate more grub than you four are going to eat, judging by the way Joe is backing away from the table already."
"That's good news," said Mr. Swan. "Where's Matt now?"
"On his way to Sherwin's Pond."
"I wonder if that's so, or whether the old woman just made it up."
"I am not sure about that, and neither was the sheriff. I loaned him a boat and a couple of my men, and he's gone up to Indian Lake with the woman. From there he will take her to Irvington. He says she will have to stand her trial with the rest of the family."
"I don't believe that Matt went to Sherwin's Pond," said Joe, after thinking the matter over. "He would be in more danger there than he would if he stayed here. The old woman told that story to throw the sheriff off the track."
"Mebbe not," replied the guide. "Don't we know by experience that the squatter is a master hand to slip around and operate in the rear of his pursuers? What more natural than he should run up to the pond to get behind us, thinking he would be safer there than in the Indian Lake country? At any rate, there's where I am going as soon as I can get a boat."
"All right," said Joe. "Any thing to keep busy."
"But if I was in your place I wouldn't go there just yet," added the guide. "You want your boat and the other things Matt stole, don't you? Well, then, hire a boat of Hanson, go up the creek, explore every little stream that runs into it on the right hand side as you go up, and you will find some of them. You won't find all, of course, for Matt kept one of the boats, all the provisions, and every thing else that would be of use to him. After you have done that, you can come up to the pond, and you'll be sure to find me and some of the boys there. That would be my plan."
A very good plan it was, too, the boys told one another, and they decided to adopt it. After the superintendent had set them across the outlet, they made the best of their way toward Indian Lake, where Mr. Swan said they would sleep that night. The first persons they saw, when they entered the hotel and approached the clerk's desk to ask if they could hire a skiff for a few days, were Jake and Sam Coyle. But they were not as ragged and dirty as usual. Their faces had been washed, their hair combed, and somebody had given them whole suits of clothes.
"Where did you catch them?" inquired Roy.
"Right here in front of the house," answered the clerk. "They came in and gave themselves up." And then he went on to tell their story pretty nearly as I have told it. For once in their lives Jake and Sam had told the truth, and the sheriff knew whom he must find in order to recover the money. Of course the boys did not know where their father had gone, but the officer put implicit faith in the old woman's story.
"There's where we've got to go, Swan," said the sheriff, "and there's where we shall find our man, if we find him at all. I have engaged four unemployed guides to go with me, and you will be a big addition to our party. Joe and his friends—"
"They ain't going," said Mr. Swan; and then he told his story, whereat the sheriff laughed uproariously.
"But you are not to blame," said he, consolingly. "Matt would have played the same game on any body else. But he's got to the end of his rope now, for I know just what I have to work on. Don't neglect to lay in a good supply of provisions, for it may take us two or three weeks to catch him, and I am not coming back without him."
Bright and early the next morning two parties left the Sportsman's Home and started away in different directions, the sheriff and his posse heading for Indian River, and Joe and his friends striking for the "old perch-hole." They followed Mr. Swan's advice to the letter, and slept that night in the same camp that the squatter had occupied two nights before. They found the most of their things, too, some in the bushes, some floating in the creek, and the heavy articles, like the two extra camp-axes and superfluous dishes, at the bottom of it.
"Joe's unlucky canoe is gone again, and so are our blankets and all our grub," said Roy. "The possession of the six thousand dollars must have made Matt good-natured, or he would have smashed our boats before he left."
"Perhaps he didn't think it best to waste time on them," said Arthur. "He might have broken them up in a few minutes with the axes, but we might have heard him. The cove isn't so very far from here."
Having recovered the most of their property the boys became impatient to join the sheriff's posse; but they were not well enough acquainted with the country to make the journey to Indian Lake in the dark. So they built a cheerful fire, cooked a good supper and finally went to sleep wrapped in the new blankets they had purchased to take the place of those Matt Coyle had carried off. Two days later they had returned Mr. Hanson's boat in good order, settled their bills at the hotel, placed Mr. Swan's canoe under cover, and were on the way to the pond in their own skiff. They grumbled at the rain, as the squatter had done when he passed that way a few hours in advance of them, and did most of the rowing with the awning up and their rubber coats and hats on. After they had made about fifty miles up the river they began telling one another that if the sheriff had gone on to Sherwin's Pond he had made a mistake.
"Just see how the current runs," said Joe, as he tugged at his oar. "Matt, strong as he is, never could have forced the canvas canoe against it. He's camped somewhere, waiting for better weather, and we are getting ahead of him."
The other boys thought so, too, but as they could not tell what else they ought to do they kept on; but they did not attempt to run out of the river into the pond. As Arthur said, "it looked too pokerish." The rain had ceased, but the water was still high, the drift-wood was coming down in great rafts, and the current was so strong that they could not stem it with their three oars. There was nothing for it but to tie up to the bank in some sheltered spot, set the tent, get their stove going to drive the dampness out of it, and make themselves miserable until the water fell. As for hunting up Mr. Swan and his party, that was out of the question. The boys knew by experience that there was no fun in traveling through a piece of thick woods when every thing was dripping wet. Their quarters, although a little cramped, were dry, warm, and comfortable; they had an abundance of provisions in the lockers, and if it had not been for their impatience to be doing something to aid in the search they might have enjoyed themselves. On the morning of the third day of their forced inactivity, they were surprised to hear a hail close at hand. They looked out and saw a boat with two Mount Airy constables just coming out of the pond into the river.
"Well, well," said one of them, as they came alongside the skiff and laid hold of the gunwale to keep themselves stationary while they talked to the boys. "You have had a time of it, haven't you?"
"Seen any thing of Mr. Swan and the sheriff and the rest of them?" asked Arthur, in reply.
"No. Are they in this part of the country?"
"Here's where they started for. But if you haven't seen them how do you know that we have had a time of it? You have not been to Indian Lake this summer, have you?"
"No; but we've read the papers."
"The papers?" echoed Joe.
"Yes. The New London Times is full of it. It told how Matt Coyle tied Joe to a tree and threatened him if he—"
"I wouldn't have had my mother hear of it for any thing," interrupted Joe. "Of course it worried her."
"Well, rather; but your father's mad and so is your uncle Joe. They've offered a thousand dollars apiece for Matt Coyle's apprehension, and that's what brought us out here in the rain."
"What brought the sheriff up here, any way?" said the other officer. "Where is he now?"
Roy Sheldon, who generally acted as spokesman, replied by relating a long and interesting story, saying in conclusion that he didn't know where the sheriff was, but he and a posse had come to Sherwin's Pond because Matt had come there, believing it to be the safest place for him. His wife said so.
"Mebbe she did, but that was a blind," replied the officer. "Three boat-loads of us have been out in all the rain, scouring the country high and low, and not the first sign of any body did we see. Swan and his crowd must have gone way up some of the creeks, or else we should have met them."
"Didn't the papers say that my friends rescued me from the squatter's clutches?" inquired Joe.
"Of course they did, but that didn't make your folks feel any easier about you. They'll worry till they see you among them safe and sound."
"Boys," said Joe, decidedly, "I'm going home; but you needn't go. You want to see Matt caught, and I'd like to; but I must go to mother as soon as I can. If you will set me on the other side of the creek I will start without a moment's delay."
"Not much we won't put you on the other side of the creek and leave you to walk twenty-five miles through the wet woods alone," answered Arthur. "You ought to go; I can see that plain enough; so we'll all go."
"I think you ought," said the constable. "Your folks will all be uneasy till they see you. They think you and Matt are still in the Indian Lake country, and are afraid he will do some harm to you."
That settled the matter. After a little more conversation the officers went back into the pond to see if they could find any signs of the sheriff and his posse, while the boys cast off the lines that held the skiff to the bank and headed her down the creek. They must make a journey of seventy-five miles in order to get above the rapids that lay between Mirror Lake and Sherwin's Pond. The narrow streams they followed were so difficult of navigation, and the various currents they encountered were so strong, that it took them four days to accomplish it; but the sight of Mirror Lake, with all its familiar surroundings, amply repaid them for their toil.
Of course they went to Joe's home first, for he was the one who had been tied to the tree and for whose safety the Mount Airy people were mostly concerned. If they had been fresh from a battle-field they could scarcely have met a warmer greeting than that which was extended to them when they walked into Mrs. Wayring's presence and Uncle Joe's. The former, in spite of their protests, insisted on making heroes of them.
"Well," said Uncle Joe, when he had listened to a hurried description of their various adventures, "I don't suppose you were at all disappointed when you found that I could not take you on that trip that we had been talking about for a year or more?"
"Oh, yes, we were," exclaimed Joe. "But we couldn't think of spending more than half the vacation in doing nothing, and that was the reason we went back to Indian Lake."
Leaving Roy and Arthur in conversation with his relatives, Joe Wayring, who had been taught to take care of his things as soon as he was done using them, took his gun under one arm and Fly-rod under the other and went up to his room. A few minutes afterward the boys heard him calling to them from the head of the stairs to "come up" and "come quick." They went, and found Joe walking about his room in great glee, trundling an elegant nickel-plated bicycle beside him. On the table lay a card to which he directed their attention. Roy picked it up and read:
I am a present for Joe Wayring, and hope in some degree to recompense him for the disappointment he must have felt when he found that his uncle could not take him on a trip this summer. Use me regularly and judiciously, and if you do not say that life has suddenly doubled its charm—if you do not, before the end of the year, notice a thousand and one improvements in yourself, both physically and mentally, then I shall have failed of my mission. There are two others like me in town, and one of my relations, ridden by Thomas Stevens, the trans-continental cyclist, is now on his way around the world.