CHAPTER II
CAPTURED AGAIN
I NEED not assure you that I was deeply interested in the exciting scene that was enacted before me. I rode helplessly at my moorings and watched Joe Wayring as he swam down the stream with his sturdiest strokes to get clear of the lily-pads before attempting a landing, and then I turned my attention to Matt Coyle and his boys, who had come to grief in their efforts to force their way to the shore.
"Back out!" shouted Matt, when he found that his scow could neither ride over or break through the strong, tangled stems of the lily-pads. "Be in a hurry, or he'll get sich a start on us that we can't never ketch him." And then he swung his heavy paddle around his head and threw it at Joe, just as the latter crawled out upon the bank.
Joe saw the missile coming toward him, and when it struck the ground he caught it up and threw it back. He didn't hit Matt, as he meant to do, but he struck Jake such a stunning blow in the face that the boy could take no part in the pursuit that followed. It came pretty near knocking him overboard. I would have laughed if I could, but I did not feel so jubilant when I heard Matt say:
"Sam, you an' Jakey get into the canoe an' paddle down the pond so's to cut him off when he tries to swim off to the skiff."
In obedience to these instructions the two boys took possession of me, hauled up the anchor, and paddled swiftly down the creek, while Matt kept on after Joe, who was running through the woods like a frightened deer. When we came out into the pond I saw him standing on the bank beckoning to Arthur and Roy, who lost no time in bringing the skiff to his relief. I saw Joe run into the water and strike out to meet them, and I also heard him say:
"Boys, never mind me. I've got my second wind now and can swim for an hour. Go up there and capture my canoe, or else run over him and send him to the bottom. Don't let those villains take him away from me again."
But Arthur and Roy did not think it best to act upon this suggestion until they had taken care of Joe; and by the time they had got him into the skiff it was too late for them to do any thing for me; for Jake and his brother had put themselves out of harm's way by pulling for the shore, where Matt was waiting for them. When they reached it they lifted me from the water and carried me so far into the bushes that they knew Joe and his friends would not dare follow them, and then each of them sheltered himself behind a tree. Matt and his boys were afraid of Roy Sheldon, who was a swift and accurate thrower, and when the latter rose to his feet to see what they had done with me they thought he was about to open fire on them with potatoes, as he had done once or twice before.
"I'm onto your little game," shouted the squatter, peeping out from behind his tree and shaking his fist at the boys in the skiff. "You don't fire no more taters at. me if I know it. Your boat is here, an' if you want it wusser'n we do, come an' get it. 'Tain't much account nohow. Now then," added Matt, as he saw the boys turn their skiff about and pull back toward the other side of the pond, "ketch hold of this canoe, all of us, an' we'll tote him up to the creek."
"Say, pap," Sam interposed, "why don't we foller 'em over there an' gobble up their other boat an' bust up their things?"
"That's what I say," groaned Jake, who wanted revenge for the stinging blow that Joe had given him with Matt's paddle. "We're better men than they ever dare be. I shan't rest easy till I larrup that Joe Wayring."
"Now jest listen at the two fules!" exclaimed the squatter, in a tone of disgust. "Have you forgot the peltin' they give us with our own taters last summer? 'Pears to me that you hadn't oughter forget it, Jakey, 'cause when you got that whack in the stummik you raised sich a hollerin' that you could have been heared clear up to Injun Lake. Seems as though I could feel that bump yet," added Matt, passing a brawny fist over his cheek where a potato, thrown by Arthur Hastings' hand, had left a black and blue spot as large as a hen's egg, We'll wait till they get camped for the night, an' then we'll go over there an' steal ourselves rich."
If Matt had taken another look at the boys instead of being in such haste to carry me up to the creek, he never would have thought seriously of making a night attack upon their camp. Joe and his friends had received a reinforcement in the person of Mr. Swan, a hotel guide whom Matt Coyle had good reason to remember. The guide had taken an active part in driving him and his vagabond crew out of the Indian Lake country, and he was looking for him when he met Joe and his chums. But Matt, believing that the boys had no one to depend on but themselves, was sure that by a stealthy approach and quick assault he could wipe out all old scores and enrich himself without incurring the smallest risk, and he and his allies grew enthusiastic while they talked about the great things they meant to do that night.
During the progress of their conversation I learned, for the first time, what had become of the rods and reels that Matt stole from Joe and his party in Sherwin's pond. Jake, who acted as his father's agent, had sold them to Mr. Hanson, the landlord of the Sportsman's Home, for four dollars apiece—all except the one belonging to Arthur Hastings, which Jake affirmed had been broken by a black bass. For that he received two dollars. I learned, farther, that Matt had failed again in his efforts to find employment as guide for the Indian Lake country. The hotels would not hire him, and neither would the guests to whom he offered his services. This left Matt but one resource, and that was to carry but his oft-repeated threat that if he couldn't act as guide about that lake nobody should. He had already robbed three camps, and he had the satisfaction of knowing that by doing it he had created great consternation among the summer visitors. The ladies protested that they could never think of going into the woods again as long as that horrid man was about, and the sportsmen who had suffered at his hands told their landlords very plainly that they would not come near Indian Lake again until they were assured that Matt Coyle had been arrested and lodged in jail.
"They're afeared of me, them folks up there to the lake be," chuckled the squatter, who was highly elated over the success of the plan he had adopted for ruining the hotels and breaking up the business of guiding. "I would have worked hard an' faithful for 'em if they had give me a chance to make an honest livin'; but they wouldn't do it, 'cause I didn't have no good clothes to wear, an' now they see what they have gained by their meanness. I won't be starved to death, an' that's jest all there is about it.'^
"Say, pap, what be you goin' to do with them two fine guns that's hid up there in the bresh?" inquired Sam.
"I ain't a-goin' to do nothin' with 'em," was the reply.
"Then why can't me an' Jake have 'em?"
"Now jest listen at the blockhead!" Matt almost shouted. "Ain't you got sense enough to know that if a guide should happen to ketch you runnin' about the woods with one of them guns in your hands you would be 'rested an' locked up for a thief? I didn't take them guns 'cause I wanted 'em, but jest to drive them city sportsmen away from here. They ain't goin' to bring fine things into these woods when they know that they stand a chance of losin' 'em. An' if there ain't no guests to come here, what's the guides an' landlords goin' to do to make a livin'?"
"I've made a heap of money for you, pap, by sellin' them fish-poles an' takin' back the scatter-gun you hooked outen one of them camps, an' you ain't never give me nothin' for it," said Jake. "I reckon it's about time you was settlin' up."
"All right, I'll settle up with you this very minute," answered his father, cheerfully. "You can have this here canvas canoe for your own. Does that squar' accounts betwixt us?"
It wouldn't if I had had a voice in the matter, of possessed the power to protect myself; but I was helpless, and from that moment Jake claimed me as his property. He agreed, however, to lend me to his father as often as the latter thought it safe to go prospecting for unguarded camps. Half an hour later I was floating in the creek alongside the scow, and Matt and his boys were building a fire and preparing to regale themselves upon the big bass which Fly-rod had unwittingly caught for their supper. While they were thus engaged they talked over their plans for the night, and decided what they would do with the valuable things they expected to capture in Joe Wayring's camp.
"This here is the great p'int, an' it bothers me a heap, I tell you," said Matt, flourishing the sharpened stick that he was using as a fork. "Joe an' his friends are purty well known in this part of the country, an' so's their outfit; an' if we steal all they' ve got, as I mean to do afore I am many hours older, about the only things we can use will be the grub."
"Don't you reckon they've got new fishpoles to take the place of them you hooked from 'em up in Sherwin's pond?" inquired Sam.
"I know they have, 'cause they wouldn't come here without nothing to fish with, would they? But 'twon't be safe to try to sell 'em right away, 'cause if we do folks will suspicion something."
"I'll bet you I won't take 'em up to the lake to sell 'em," said Jake very decidedly. "The folks up there know that you stole them fine guns we've got hid in the bresh, an' they'd 'rest me for helpin' of you. But there's one thing I want, an' I'm goin' to have it too, when we get Joe's property into our hands, an' that's some new clothes," added Jake, pulling his coat-sleeve around so that he could have a fair view of the gaping rent in the elbow. "These duds I've got on ain't fitten to go among white folks with."
"I don't see what's to hender you gettin 'em, Jakey," said his father, encouragingly. "If we get the skiff an' everything what's into it, in course we shall get the extry clothes they brung with 'em, an' you an' Sam can take your pick."
"An' I'm goin' to give that Joe Wayring the best kind of a poundin' to pay him for hittin' me in the face with your paddle," continued Jake.
"You can do that, too, an' I won' t never say a word agin it. All them fellers need bringin' down, an' I'd like the best way to see you boys do it. Now there's that skiff of their'n," added Matt, reflectively. "She's better'n the scow, 'cause she's got oars instead of paddles, an' can get around faster."
"An' she's big enough to carry us an' our plunder, an' she's got a tent, so't we wouldn't have to go ashore to camp when we wanted to stop for the night," said Sam. "But we'd have to steer clear of the guides, 'cause they all know her."
"We've got to steer clear of them anyhow, ain't we?" demanded Matt. "I reckon we'd best take her for a house-boat, an' use the canvas canoe to go a prospectin' for camps."
Matt and his boys continued to talk in this way until darkness came to conceal their movements, and then they stepped into the scow and paddled toward the pond, leaving me tied fast to a tree on the bank. I knew they were going on a fool's errand. They seemed to forget that Joe and his friends never went into the woods without taking a body-guard and sentinel with them; and, knowing how vigilant Arthur Hastings' little spaniel was in looking out for the safety of the camp, I did not think it would be possible for the squatter, cunning as he was, to steal a march upon the boys he intended to rob. If Jim aroused the camp there would be the liveliest kind of a fight, and I was as certain as I wanted to be that the attacking party would come off second best.
The squatter was gone so long that I began to grow impatient; but presently I heard loud and excited voices coming from the direction of the pond, mingled with cries of distress, the clashing of sticks, and other sounds to indicate that there was a battle going on out there. Although it seemed to be desperately contested, it did not last long, for in less than ten minutes afterwards I saw the scow coming into the creek. The very first words I heard convinced me that, although Matt and his boys had failed to surprise and rob Joe's camp, they had inflicted considerable damage upon him and his companions. To my great satisfaction I also learned that my confidence in Jim, the spaniel, had not been misplaced.
"If I ever get the chance I'll fill that little black fice of their'n so full of bullet holes that he won't never be of no more use as a watchdog, I bet you," said Sam, in savage tones. "We could have done jest what we liked with that there camp, an' every thing an' every body what's into it, if it hadn't been for his yelpin' an' goin' on."
"Now, listen at you!" exclaimed his father, impatiently. "I'm right glad the dog was there an' set up that yelpin', 'cause if we'd went ashore, like we meant to do, we'd a had that man Swan onto us."
"Well, what of it?" retorted Sam. "Ain't you a bigger man than he is?"
"That ain't nuther here nor there," answered Matt, who knew that he could not have held his own in an encounter with the stalwart guide. "Fightin' ain't what we're after. We want to do all the damage we can without bein' ketched at it."
"All I've made by this night's work is a prod in the ribs that will stay with me for a month," groaned Jake, who, as I afterwards learned, had received several sharp thrusts from the blade of Roy Sheldon's oar. "Pap, you spiled our chances of gettin' that skiff for a house-boat when you told us to run into her. She's at the bottom of the pond by this time. Didn' t you hear the planks rippin' and crackin' when we struck her?"
"Wal, then, what did they put theirselves in our way for?" demanded Matt, angrily. "Didn't you hear me tell 'em not to come nigh us, 'cause it would be wuss for 'em if they did? I seen through their little game in a minute. They wanted to keep us there till Swan could come up an' help 'em. What else could we do but run into 'em?"
This made it plain to me that the squatter had not acted entirely on the defensive—that he had made a desperate effort to send the skiff and her crew to the bottom of the pond; but, being better posted in natural philosophy than he was, I did not believe that he had succeeded in doing it. An unloaded skiff will not sink, even if her whole side is stove in, and I was positive that Matt Coyle would see more of that boat and of the boys who owned it before the doors of the penitentiary closed upon him.
In spite of Jake's protest and Sam's, Matt decided to camp on the bank of the creek that night, and go home in the morning. The boys were afraid that the guide might assume the offensive and attack them while they were asleep; but their father quieted their fears by assuring them that he would not attempt any thing of the sort, 'cause why, he couldn't. The skiff was sunk, Swan's canoe wasn't large enough to carry more than one man at a load, and the guide, brave as he was supposed to be, would not think of coming up there alone. More than that, he did not know where to find them.
Knowing that Matt's home was wherever he happened to be when night overtook him, I felt some curiosity to see the place he had chosen for his temporary abode. I was ushered into it early on the afternoon of the following day. It was located about twenty miles from the pond, and Matt reached it by turning the scow out of the creek, and forcing him through a little stream whose channel was so thickly filled with bushes and weeds that a stranger would not have suspected that there was any water-way there. The stream, which was not more than twenty feet long, ended in a little bay, and there the scow had to be left, because his crew could not take him any farther. He was too broad of beam to be carried through the thick woods, and besides he was too heavy.
I forgot to say that my new owner, Jake Coyle, navigated me up the creek. He was very awkward with the double paddle at first, but skill came with practice, and before we had gone half a dozen miles I was carrying him along as steadily and evenly as I ever carried Joe Wayring. When we reached the little bay of which I have spoken, Jake ran me upon the beach alongside the scow, and set to work to take me to pieces. Having more mechanical skill and patience than his father, he succeeded after awhile, and then he put me on his shoulder and carried me along the well-beaten path that led to the camp. But before this happened I was witness to a little proceeding on the part of Matt Coyle which showed what a cunning old fox he was. Catching up a long pole that had probably been used for the same purpose before, the squatter went back to the stream through which we had just passed, and carefully straightened up all the bushes that had been bent down by the weight of the scow.
"There!" said Matt, when he had finished his task, "Swan an' some more of them guides will be along this way directly, but I bet they won't see nothin' from the creek to tell 'em that we are in here. Of course the bresh don't stand up squar', like it oughter, an' the bark's rubbed off in places; but mebbe Swan an' the rest of 'em won't take notice of that."
I afterward learned, however, that Matt knew his enemies too well to trust any thing to luck. Some member of his family stood guard at the mouth of the stream day and night. The old woman was on watch when we came up the creek but I did not see her, for as soon as she discovered Matt's scow approaching she hastened to camp to get dinner ready.
The camp was pleasantly located in a thicket of evergreens, and with a little care and attention might have been made a very cheerful and inviting spot; but it was just the reverse of that. Matt and his tribe were too lazy to keep their camps in order or to provide themselves with any comforts. I never knew them to have such a thing as a camp broom, which any of them could have made in ten minutes, and I doubt if their dishes ever received a thorough washing. They could not muster up energy enough to pick browse for their beds, but were content to sleep on the bare ground. All they cared for was a camp that was so effectually concealed that the Indian Lake guides would not be likely to stumble upon it, a lean-to that would keep off the thickest of the rain, and plenty to eat. Of course they would have been glad to have money in their pockets, but they did not want to put themselves to any trouble to earn it. Matt contended that he and his family had as good a right to live without work as some other folks had.
"So you got your canvas canoe back, did you, Jakey?" said the old woman, as her hopeful son came in at one side of the camp and went out at the other. "Where did you find him agin?"
"Up there to the pond," replied Jake. "That Joe Wayring, he was fishin', an' we crep' up clost to him afore he knew we was there, an' then it would a made you laugh to see him take to the water an' streak it through the woods with pap arter him. Don't I wish he had ketched him, though? Do you see any thing onto my face?"
The old woman replied that one of his cheeks was slightly discolored.
"Joe Wayring done that with pap's paddle," continued Jake, "an' I'm goin' to larrup him for it the first good chance I get. I'll l'arn him who he's hittin'. Yes, this canoe is mine now, sure enough, for pap give him to me to keep. I'm goin' to hide him out here in the bresh till I want to use him."
This piece of strategy on the part of my new master made it impossible for me to take note of all that happened in and around the squatter's camp during the next two days, for the evergreens partially concealed it from my view, and Matt and his allies talked in tones so low that I could not distinctly hear what they said; but on the afternoon of the third day I saw and heard a good deal. About three o'clock, while Sam Coyle was dozing on the bank of the creek and pretending to stand guard over the camp, he was suddenly aroused to a sense of his responsibility by seeing a light skiff come slowly around the bend below. Mr. Swan, the guide, handled the oars, and the man who sat in the stem was the owner of the Lefever hammerless that Matt Coyle had stolen and concealed in the bushes. They kept their eyes fastened upon the bank as they moved along, and Sam knew that they were looking for "signs."
"An' I'm powerful 'feared that they will find some when they get up here," thought the young vagabond, trembling all over with excitement and apprehension, "'cause didn't pap say that he couldn't make the bresh stand up straight like it had oughter do, an' that the bark was rubbed off in places? I reckon I'd best be a lumberin'."
Sam turned upon his face and crawled off through the bushes, but not until he had seen Mr. Swan's boat reinforced by four others, whose occupants were looking so closely at the shores as they advanced that it did not seem possible that a single bush, or even a twig on them, could escape their scrutiny. Sam lost no time in putting himself out of sight among the evergreens, and then he jumped to his feet and made for camp at the top of his speed. The pale face he brought with him told his father that he had a startling report to make.
"Be they comin'?" said Matt, in an anxious whisper.
"Yes," replied Sam, "they're comin'—a hul passel of boats, an' two or three fellers into each one of 'em. The man you hooked that scatter-gun from is into Swan' s boat, an' he looks like he was jest ready to b'ile over with madness."
"Grab something an' run with it," exclaimed the squatter; and as he spoke he snatched up the frying-pan and dumped the half-cooked slices of bacon upon the ground.
For a few minutes there was a great commotion in the camp. Matt and his family caught up whatever came first to their hands, and presently emerged from the thicket, one after the other. They all carried bundles of something on their backs, and at once proceeded to "scatter like so many quails," and scurry away in different directions. This was one of their favorite tricks—the one to which they invariably resorted when danger threatened them; but before they separated they always agreed upon a place of meeting, toward which they bent their steps as soon as they thought it safe to do so. It was no trouble at all for them to elude the officers of the law in this way, and even the guides, experienced as they were in woodcraft, could not always follow them.
Jake Coyle was so heavily loaded down with other plunder that he could not carry me away with him. That was something upon which I congratulated myself, for I was sure that the guides and their companions would not leave until they had made a thorough examination of the woods surrounding the squatter's camp; but in this I was disappointed.
They set fire to every thing that Matt had left behind in his hurried flight, and went back to the bay to find that the enemy had been operating in their rear. While they were waiting for the fire they had kindled to burn itself out, Matt and his family "circled around" to the bay in which they had left their scow, and went to work to pay Mr. Swan back in his own coin. Every thing that would sink was thrown into the water, and every thing that wouldn't was sent whirling through the air toward the woods on the opposite side of the bay. That was the way my friend Fly-rod got crippled. He brought up against a tree with such force that his second joint was broken close to the ferrule. After doing all the damage they could without alarming the guides. Matt and his family took two of the best boats and made their escape in them.
I judged that Mr. Swan and his party were a pretty mad lot of men when they returned to the bay and saw what had been done there during their absence. They were so far away that I could not catch all they said, but I could hear Joe Wayring's voice, and longed for the power to do something that would lead him to my place of concealment. I also heard the owner of the stolen Winchester say:
"We will give a hundred dollars apiece to the man who will find our weapons, capture the thief, and hold him so that we can come and testify against him. Or, we will give fifty dollars apiece for the guns without the thief and the same amount for the thief without the guns. Boys, you are included in that offer."
I knew that the last words were addressed to Joe Wayring and his chums, for I heard Arthur thank him, and say that it would afford him and his friends great satisfaction if they could find and restore the stolen guns. I did not suppose that the boys would ever think of the matter again, having so many other things to occupy their minds; but subsequent events proved that I was mistaken.