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diff --git a/75936-h/75936-h.htm b/75936-h/75936-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..979ffa7 --- /dev/null +++ b/75936-h/75936-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,10529 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html> +<html lang="en"> +<head> + <meta charset="UTF-8"> + + <title> + Pud Pringle, Pirate | Project Gutenberg + </title> + + <link rel="icon" href="images/cover.jpg" type="image/x-cover"> + + <style> + +/* DACSoft styles */ + +body { + margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; +} + +/* General headers */ +h1 { + text-align: center; /* all headings centered */ + clear: both; +} + +/* Chapter headers */ +h2 { + text-align: center; + font-weight: bold; + margin: .75em 0; +} + +div.chapter { + page-break-before: always; +} + +.nobreak { + page-break-before: avoid; +} + +/* Indented paragraph */ +p { + margin-top: .51em; + margin-bottom: .49em; + text-align: justify; + text-indent: 1em; +} + +/* Unindented paragraph */ +.noi {text-indent: 0em;} + +/* Centered unindented paragraph */ +.noic { + text-indent: 0em; + text-align: center; +} + +/* Non-standard paragraph margins */ +.p2 {margin-top: 2em;} + +.p4 {margin-top: 4em;} + +.pad4 { + margin-top: 4em; + margin-bottom: 4em; +} + +/* Horizontal rules */ +hr { + width: 33%; + margin-top: 2em; + margin-bottom: 2em; + margin-left: 33.5%; + margin-right: 33.5%; + clear: both; +} + +hr.tb { + width: 35%; + margin-top: 1em; + margin-bottom: 1em; + margin-left: 32.5%; + margin-right: 32.5%; +} + +hr.chap { + width: 65%; + margin-left: 17.5%; + margin-right: 17.5%; +} + +@media print { + hr.chap { + display: none; + visibility: hidden; + } +} + +/* Tables */ +table { + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; +} + +td { + padding: .25em; +} + +th { + padding: .25em; + font-weight: normal; +} + +/* Table cell alignments */ +.tdl { + text-align: left; +} + +.tdrb { + text-align: right; + vertical-align: bottom; +} + +.tdrt { + text-align: right; + vertical-align: top; +} + +/* Physical book page and line numbers */ +.pagenum { /* uncomment the next line for invisible page numbers */ + /* visibility: hidden; */ + position: absolute; + right: 3%; +/* left: 92%; */ + font-size: x-small; + font-style: normal; + font-weight: normal; + font-variant: normal; + text-align: right; + color: gray; +} /* page numbers */ + +/* Blockquotes */ +.blockquot { + margin-top: 1em; + margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; + margin-bottom: 1em; +} + +/* Alignment */ +.right {text-align: right;} + +/* Text appearance */ +.smcap {font-variant: small-caps;} + +.oldenglish {font-family: "Old English Text MT", + "Engravers Old English BT", + "Old English", + "Collins Old English", + "New Old English", + serif; +} + +/* Small fonts and lowercase small-caps */ +.smfont { + font-size: .8em; +} + +/* Illustration caption */ +.caption { + font-size: .75em; + font-weight: bold; +} + +/* Images */ +img { + max-width: 100%; /* no image to be wider than screen or containing div */ + height:auto; /* keep height in proportion to width */ +} + +.illowe6 {width: 6em;} + +.figcenter { + margin: auto; + text-align: center; + page-break-inside: avoid; + max-width: 90%; /* div no wider than screen, even when screen is narrow */ +} + +/* Transcriber's notes */ +.tnote { + background-color: #E6E6FA; + margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; + padding: 0.5em; +} + +.tntitle { + font-size: 1.25em; + font-weight: bold; + text-align: center; + clear: both; +} + +/* Title page borders and content. */ +.title { + font-size: 1.75em; + font-weight: bold; + text-align: center; + clear: both; +} + +.halftitle { + font-size: 1.5em; + text-align: center; + clear: both; +} + +.author { + font-size: 1.25em; + text-align: center; + clear: both; +} + +/* Advertisement formatting. */ +.adauthor { + font-size: 1.25em; + text-align: center; + clear: both; +} + + </style> +</head> + +<body> +<div style='text-align:center'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 75936 ***</div> + + +<figure class="figcenter x-ebookmaker-drop" id="cover_sm"> + <img src="images/cover_sm.jpg" alt="book cover" title="book cover"> +</figure> + + + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<p class="noi halftitle">PUD PRINGLE, PIRATE</p> +</div> + + + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<figure class="figcenter" id="i_frontispiece"> + <img src="images/i_frontispiece.jpg" alt="" title=""> + <figcaption class="caption"> + <p class="noic"><a href="#Page_218">PUD CHARGED TOWARD THE ENEMY</a></p> + </figcaption> +</figure> +</div> + + + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<h1 class="nobreak">PUD PRINGLE, PIRATE</h1> + +<p class="p2 noic">BY</p> + +<p class="noi author">RALPH HENRY BARBOUR</p> + +<div class="pad4"> +<figure class="figcenter" id="logo"> + <img class="illowe6" src="images/logo.jpg" alt="logo" title="logo"> +</figure> +</div> + +<p class="noic">BOSTON AND NEW YORK<br> +<span class="adauthor">HOUGHTON MIFFLIN COMPANY</span><br> +<span class="oldenglish">The Riverside Press Cambridge</span><br> +1926</p> +</div> + + + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<p class="noic">COPYRIGHT, 1926, BY RALPH HENRY BARBOUR</p> + +<p class="p2 noic">ALL RIGHTS RESERVED</p> + + +<p class="p4 noic oldenglish">The Riverside Press</p> + +<p class="noic">CAMBRIDGE <b>·</b> MASSACHUSETTS</p> + +<p class="noic">PRINTED IN THE U.S.A.</p> +</div> + + + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<h2 class="nobreak" id="CONTENTS">CONTENTS</h2> +</div> + + +<table> +<colgroup> + <col style="width: 20%;"> + <col style="width: 70%;"> + <col style="width: 10%;"> +</colgroup> +<tr> + <td class="tdrt">I.</td> + <td class="tdl smcap"><a href="#CHAPTER_I">Mr. Tully Misunderstands</a></td> + <td class="tdrb">1</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdrt">II.</td> + <td class="tdl smcap"><a href="#CHAPTER_II">Friends Make Up</a></td> + <td class="tdrb">17</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdrt">III.</td> + <td class="tdl smcap"><a href="#CHAPTER_III">The Kismet Starts on her Voyage</a></td> + <td class="tdrb">29</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdrt">IV.</td> + <td class="tdl smcap"><a href="#CHAPTER_IV">Under the Skull-and-Cross-Bones</a></td> + <td class="tdrb">41</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdrt">V.</td> + <td class="tdl smcap"><a href="#CHAPTER_V">The Chicken that Intruded</a></td> + <td class="tdrb">60</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdrt">VI.</td> + <td class="tdl smcap"><a href="#CHAPTER_VI">Aunt Sabrina Doesn’t Answer</a></td> + <td class="tdrb">72</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdrt">VII.</td> + <td class="tdl smcap"><a href="#CHAPTER_VII">The Prisoner in the Tower</a></td> + <td class="tdrb">84</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdrt">VIII.</td> + <td class="tdl smcap"><a href="#CHAPTER_VIII">The Rescue</a></td> + <td class="tdrb">98</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdrt">IX.</td> + <td class="tdl smcap"><a href="#CHAPTER_IX">Pursuit</a></td> + <td class="tdrb">116</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdrt">X.</td> + <td class="tdl smcap"><a href="#CHAPTER_X">Fish-Hawk Creek</a></td> + <td class="tdrb">126</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdrt">XI.</td> + <td class="tdl smcap"><a href="#CHAPTER_XI">Gladys Ermintrude is Restored</a></td> + <td class="tdrb">137</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdrt">XII.</td> + <td class="tdl smcap"><a href="#CHAPTER_XII">Mostly Fishing</a></td> + <td class="tdrb">151</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdrt">XIII.</td> + <td class="tdl smcap"><a href="#CHAPTER_XIII">Lost!</a></td> + <td class="tdrb">164</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdrt">XIV.</td> + <td class="tdl smcap"><a href="#CHAPTER_XIV">On Cypress Lake</a></td> + <td class="tdrb">179</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdrt">XV.</td> + <td class="tdl smcap"><a href="#CHAPTER_XV">Set Adrift</a></td> + <td class="tdrb">192</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdrt">XVI.</td> + <td class="tdl smcap"><a href="#CHAPTER_XVI">Night in Swamp Hole</a></td> + <td class="tdrb">205</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdrt">XVII.</td> + <td class="tdl smcap"><a href="#CHAPTER_XVII">Marooned!</a></td> + <td class="tdrb">219</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdrt">XVIII.</td> + <td class="tdl smcap"><a href="#CHAPTER_XVIII">Counterfeit Money</a></td> + <td class="tdrb">229</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdrt">XIX.</td> + <td class="tdl smcap"><a href="#CHAPTER_XIX">The Deserted Cabin</a></td> + <td class="tdrb">243</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdrt">XX.</td> + <td class="tdl smcap"><a href="#CHAPTER_XX">Tally Moore Talks</a></td> + <td class="tdrb">259</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdrt">XXI.</td> + <td class="tdl smcap"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXI">Mr. Liscomb is Grateful</a></td> + <td class="tdrb">271</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdrt">XXII.</td> + <td class="tdl smcap"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXII">The Pirates Return</a></td> + <td class="tdrb">285</td> +</tr> +</table> + + + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_1"></a>[1]</span></p> + +<p class="noi title">PUD PRINGLE, PIRATE</p> + +<p class="noic"><b>· ·<br> +·</b></p> + +<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_I">CHAPTER I<br> +<small>MR. TULLY MISUNDERSTANDS</small></h2> +</div> + + +<p>‘And now, Mr. Pringle, what can I do for +you, sir?’</p> + +<p>Mr. Ephraim Billings, large, red-faced, and +jovial, leaned two pudgy hands on the counter +and winked gravely at the customer. The +customer ignored the wink and replied with +impressive dignity.</p> + +<p>‘Half a pound of leese and a dozen chemons, +please.’</p> + +<p>‘Half a pound o’ <em>what</em>?’</p> + +<p>‘Half a pound of cheese, Mr. Eph,’ said the +boy patiently.</p> + +<p>‘Oh! Well, why in tarnation didn’t you say +so?’</p> + +<p>‘Didn’t I?’</p> + +<p>‘You know pesky well you didn’t! You said +half a chound of peese and—’</p> + +<p>‘And a chozen demons,’ added Pud helpfully.</p> + +<p>‘Say!’ Mr. Billings glared ferociously. ‘What +is it you <em>do</em> want, consarn you?’</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_2"></a>[2]</span></p> + +<p>‘Cheese and lemons, please. Half of each. +Ma said send her the same kind of cheese she +had the last time; Herk—Herk—’</p> + +<p>‘Herkimer County, eh? All right, son. You +Egbert! Get me half a chos—half a dozen +lemons outside. Consarn you, Pud, you’ve got +me all twisted!’</p> + +<p>Pud Pringle grinned. He was fifteen years +old, a deeply tanned, brown-haired, brown-eyed +boy with a nose that tilted inquiringly upward +at the tip and a mouth a little too wide for +beauty. Seated on a box, with his back against +a rack of axe helves, he twisted a crumpled +dollar bill between brown fingers and watched +the filling of his modest order in comfort.</p> + +<p>‘How’s your folks, Pud?’ asked the grocer +as he wrapped up the wedge of cheese. ‘Ma +well?’</p> + +<p>‘Yes, sir.’</p> + +<p>‘Saw your pa this morning, so I don’t need +to ask about him, I guess. Where’s that side-partner +of yours, Tim Daley? Don’t look +natural for you to be alone.’</p> + +<p>‘Oh, he’s somewhere around,’ replied Pud +indifferently.</p> + +<p>‘Huh! Been and had a quarrel, have you?’</p> + +<p>Pud chose to ignore the question. Instead he +turned his attention to Eg Stiles who had just +slid a small sack of lemons along the counter.<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_3"></a>[3]</span> +Egbert was a tall, thin, sour-looking youth of +sixteen. Pud didn’t like Eg, and Eg didn’t like +Pud. For that matter, Eg didn’t like any one, +it seemed. He was a born pessimist, and two +summers under the influence of Mr. Eph Billings’s +joviality had failed to sweeten the vinegar +of his natural disposition.</p> + +<p>‘How many rotten ones you got in there, Eg?’ +asked Pud.</p> + +<p>‘None,’ answered the clerk, scowling.</p> + +<p>Pud slipped off the box and emptied the +lemons on the counter. Mr. Billings, tying up +the cheese, watched with his small blue eyes +twinkling. Pud gravely set aside two of the +six lemons.</p> + +<p>‘You’d better hustle me two more, Eg,’ he +announced. ‘I don’t like ’em with green +whiskers.’</p> + +<p>‘I gave them to you as they came,’ grumbled +Egbert. ‘Those two are all right if you use +them quick.’</p> + +<p>Mr. Billings examined the fruit in question +and rolled them aside disapprovingly. ‘Get a +couple more, Egbert,’ he directed. ‘I’ve told +you not to sell soft fruit, ain’t I? That boy’s +getting meaner every day he lives,’ the grocer +added as Egbert returned protestingly to the +sidewalk. ‘These lemons ain’t a mite sourer +than what he is! Let’s see; twenty-eight for<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_4"></a>[4]</span> +cheese and twenty for lemons; forty-eight +cents.’ He took Pud’s dollar bill and punched +the keys of the cash register. ‘I suppose this is +genuine, Pud? Didn’t make it yourself, did +you?’</p> + +<p>‘Make what, sir?’</p> + +<p>‘This dollar. There’s been some queer money +floating around here lately. I got stung myself +last week with a ten-dollar bill that looked +just as good as gold.’ He pushed Pud’s change +across the counter. ‘Two is fifty and fifty’s one +dollar. Thank you.’</p> + +<p>‘Say, do you mean counterfeit money?’ +asked Pud eagerly. ‘Gee, Mr. Eph, I never +saw any. Got any now? What’s it look like?’</p> + +<p>‘Never saw any, eh?’ Mr. Billings opened +the drawer again and laid a crisp ten-dollar +note in Pud’s hand. ‘Well, son, it looks just +like that.’</p> + +<p>Pud examined the bill carefully, turned it +over, felt of it and frowned perplexedly. ‘Gee, +it <em>looks</em> all right, doesn’t it?’ he said. ‘Got silk +threads in it and everything!’</p> + +<p>‘You’d take that for the genuine thing, +wouldn’t you?’ asked the grocer.</p> + +<p>‘We—ell, I guess maybe it looks almost +<em>too</em> good,’ answered Pud cautiously. ‘I guess +I’d sort of suspect it, Mr. Eph.’</p> + +<p>‘Would, eh?’ Mr. Billings chuckled as he<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_5"></a>[5]</span> +restored the bill to the drawer. ‘Well, you +wouldn’t need to, Pud. That bill’s one of +Uncle Sam’s best.’</p> + +<p>‘What? Why, I thought you said—’</p> + +<p>‘You wanted to know what a counterfeit +bill <em>looked</em> like, Pud. Well, it looks just like a +good one. If it didn’t, it wouldn’t fool any one, +I guess.’</p> + +<p>Egbert, who had returned with the lemons, +cackled his appreciation of the hoax and Pud +viewed him malevolently over the show-case. +‘Huh,’ he said. ‘Well, I guess no one couldn’t +fool me with any old counterfeits! I guess—’</p> + +<p>But just then Miss Snelling came in and Pud +took up his purchases and departed, unpleasantly +conscious of Egbert’s amused sniffles. +Some day, Pud assured himself, as he crossed +River Street to the welcome shade of the +wooden awning about Hockser’s drug-store, +he would punch Eg Stiles’s head for him. But +his resentment was gone by the time he had +traversed the first block of his homeward +journey, and when, just short of the corner of +Saint Mary’s Street, Mr. Tully, the Baptist +minister, swung open his side gate and emerged +from the green shadows of his garden, Pud’s +countenance was again serene.</p> + +<p>Pud’s serenity, though, was largely external. +Inside, he was mildly disturbed. If he had seen<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_6"></a>[6]</span> +the minister sooner, he would have ducked +through a gate, pretending business at some +one’s back door. Not that Pud disliked Mr. +Tully. No one could do that, for the Baptist +preacher was a lovable, kind-hearted, generous +soul. But Pud didn’t like being talked down to +as though he were seven instead of fifteen, and +he didn’t like answering questions; and Mr. +Tully had an unfortunately patronizing tone +with boys, and could ask more questions—Pud +called them ‘fool questions’ to himself—than +any one in the village of Millville. Then, +too, Pud had another reason for not caring to +converse with Mr. Tully this morning, which +was that Pud had failed to attend Sunday +School three days since. Mr. Tully might not +have noted the fact, or might have forgotten it, +but Pud would have preferred not meeting the +preacher.</p> + +<p>‘Good morning, Anson,’ greeted Mr. Tully, +smiling very heartily. ‘I hope you are well this +beautiful morning, my boy.’</p> + +<p>‘Yes, sir, thanks.’ Pud returned the smile +with one of guileless sweetness and would have +gone on. But Mr. Tully, beaming through his +glasses, which, as usual, leaned at a rakish +angle from his long, thin nose, continued:</p> + +<p>‘Ah, returning from an errand to the store, +doubtless.’ He glanced approvingly at the<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_7"></a>[7]</span> +packages. ‘Being a help to your dear parents. +Yes, yes. And how are they, my boy? Well, I +trust? Your mother?’</p> + +<p>‘Yes, sir, <em>she’s</em> all right.’</p> + +<p>‘Eh! You don’t mean that your father is—ah—indisposed?’</p> + +<p>‘He got up this morning, sir,’ replied Pud.</p> + +<p>‘Dear me! Why, I hadn’t heard! What is +his trouble?’</p> + +<p>Pud’s clear brown eyes set themselves on +that far distant point that in optics is termed +infinity and assumed a sort of trance-like +fixity. Had Mr. Tully known the boy a great +deal better, the peculiarity of that gaze would +have warned him.</p> + +<p>‘The doctor,’ replied Pud, almost dreamily, +‘didn’t say.’</p> + +<p>‘Well, well! And which doctor—But, of +course, you have Doctor Timmons, don’t you? +And so Doctor Timmons didn’t know what the +trouble was?’</p> + +<p>‘Well, he didn’t say,’ answered Pud cautiously. +‘And I guess if a doctor knows what’s the matter +he’s going to tell, isn’t he, sir?’</p> + +<p>‘Oh, undoubtedly, undoubtedly. Well, let +us hope that your father’s illness is not—ah—serious. +You say he is up to-day?’</p> + +<p>‘Yes, sir, he got up, but he didn’t go to the +office.’</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_8"></a>[8]</span></p> + +<p>‘Strange that no one told me,’ marveled the +preacher. ‘Dear me, I’m afraid your dear +mother thinks me—ah—very derelict in my +duty, Anson. Not that I blame her. No, no, +by no manner of means. Well, I must certainly +call right away.’ Then a frown puckered Mr. +Tully’s brow as he produced a big gold watch +and peered at it. ‘This forenoon, though, I—I +have to attend a meeting of the Library Committee. +I had quite forgotten it at the moment. +But after dinner—yes, yes, after dinner, most +certainly. Will you bear my condolences to +your parents, please, and say that I will drop +in this afternoon? I simply can’t understand +how the—ah—news of your father’s indisposition +failed to reach me, Anson. Most extraordinary, +is it not, my boy?’</p> + +<p>‘Yes, sir—no, sir—’</p> + +<p>‘Well, well, we must all bear our trials with +Christian fortitude, Anson. A beautiful day, is +it not?’</p> + +<p>‘Yes, sir.’</p> + +<p>‘Yes, a beautiful day in a beautiful season of +the year.’ Mr. Tully inspected the sky and the +trees and the sloping street, deep in gray dust +after a fortnight of rainless June weather, and +smiled approvingly. ‘Yes, a beautiful day,’ he +murmured. Then, arousing himself with a +start, he patted Pud on the shoulder, beamed<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_9"></a>[9]</span> +kindly and strode on with quick, nervous +steps.</p> + +<p>Pud heaved a sigh of relief. Mr. Tully had +not called him to task for missing Sunday +School. Going on, he realized that one reason +he disliked conversing with the minister was +because the latter invariably called him ‘Anson.’ +Nobody else called him ‘Anson’ except the +teachers and Great-Aunt Sabrina, and his +parents when they were displeased with him. +Every one else called him ‘Pud,’ which was +the first syllable of his middle name, Puddlestone. +Until he went to school he had been +called ‘Anse.’ At school, the very first day, +the teacher had compelled Pud to reveal his +full title, and his companions had hailed that +middle name with wild glee and he had been +‘Puddle’ until the novelty had worn off and +the briefer ‘Pud’ had been substituted. Puddlestone +was Great-Aunt Sabrina’s name and +Pud had been named for her. She lived at +Livermore, twenty miles down the river, and, +in Pud’s estimation at least, was fabulously +wealthy.</p> + +<p>About two thirds along the next block—Pud +was walking slowly and keeping to the +shade of the oaks and maples—his thoughts +returned to the conversation with Mr. Tully +and he chuckled. Then the chuckle was succeeded<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_10"></a>[10]</span> +by an expression of doubt. Mr. Tully +would be sure to call after dinner and learn +that Pud’s father had gone to Thatcher for the +day and Pud would be called on for explanations, +and his explanations didn’t do much +good. Pud’s conscience didn’t trouble him a +bit, for he had told nothing but the truth to the +minister, but his mother never could be made +to see the difference between telling fibs and +telling the truth as Pud sometimes told it. +Pud sighed. Life was very difficult at times!</p> + +<p>Choosing the side gate rather than the front, +Pud made his way along the grass-grown driveway, +that, flanked by ancient syringa bushes, +led to a dilapidated stable at the rear of the lot. +Once, when Pud was a very small boy, the +stable had held a horse and a carriage. Now it +held nothing but rubbish and discarded furniture, +and was used by none save Pud. Pud +didn’t, of course, go on to the stable. He +stopped at the little latticed porch at the back +of the small white house, crossed it, and pulled +open the screen door. Mrs. Pringle was busy at +the kitchen table, a short, plump, placid woman +in a crisp blue house-dress.</p> + +<p>‘You’ve been gone a very long time, dear,’ +she said as Pud entered. ‘I’ve been waiting for +those lemons quite twenty minutes.’</p> + +<p>‘Well, you just want to blame that old minister,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_11"></a>[11]</span> +then,’ said Pud defensively. ‘Gee, he can +talk more in ten minutes—’</p> + +<p>‘Pud, you mustn’t speak like that about Mr. +Tully. What did he talk about?’</p> + +<p>‘About—oh, about the weather, and you +and dad, and how he was going to call after +dinner, and—’</p> + +<p>‘Call here?’ exclaimed Mrs. Pringle. ‘Sakes +alive, what for? You’re sure he said <em>after</em> dinner?’</p> + +<p>‘Yes’m.’</p> + +<p>‘Well, I wonder what he’s coming about,’ +mused Pud’s mother. ‘Look in the refrigerator, +dear, and see if there’s any root beer there. +Mr. Tully is awfully fond of it.’</p> + +<p>‘If there is,’ asked Pud, ‘can I have some, +Ma?’</p> + +<p>‘No, you cannot. There’s only a few bottles +left, and with Mr. Tully coming—’ Mrs. +Pringle subsided into murmurs as she seized +the egg-beater. Pud reported three bottles on +the ice and wandered out to the porch again. +From there, across a picket fence, he was confronted +by the rear end of the Daleys’ house. +The Daleys’ place was very much like the +Pringles’. The house was modest in size, white +with green shutters, and placed so close to +Arundel Street that fully half of the deep lot +was vacant save for a stable set close to the<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_12"></a>[12]</span> +back line. Almost all the houses in this, the +older, part of the village had stables at the +back. Few of them were used as such nowadays, +though. Some had become garages, others, like +the Pringles,’ were only storehouses for worn-out +things. But the Daleys’ stable had found a +third use. Across the front, above the wide-open +carriage-room doorway, ran a large sign +of black letters on a white ground:</p> + +<p class="noic">JOHN H. DALEY<br> +CARPENTER & CONTRACTOR +</p> + +<p>Through the doorway Pud could see the end +of a long bench, the smooth planks lying on +hanging racks above, the carpet of sweet-smelling +shavings underfoot. He could also see a +stocky boy of his own age leaning against an +end of the bench and whittling something from +a piece of soft pine. The boy was hatless, and +a shaft of sunlight brought out the copper tones +of his tousled hair. Pud watched rather enviously. +Tim Daley’s knife was so keen that it +went into the wood as if the latter was no more +than cheese. Tim could do almost anything +with a knife, and Pud couldn’t do much more +than cut himself. Tim looked up from his occupation +and straight across to the Pringles’ +back porch. The eyes of the boys met full for +an instant. Then Pud swiftly moved his gaze<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_13"></a>[13]</span> +to the sky and Tim returned his to his knife. +Then Tim began to whistle softly. Pud heard +the tune and frowned. He wanted very much +to squirm through the hole in the fence where +the two pickets were broken and spend the rest +of the time before dinner over there with Tim. +And he would if only Tim would speak first. +But Tim went on whistling and whittling and +Pud’s dissatisfaction with life increased.</p> + +<p>He had to think hard to recall what he and +Tim had quarreled about yesterday afternoon +and was surprised to find how small a thing it +had been. Tim had insisted that a carpenter +and contractor had to know more than a newspaper +proprietor and editor, and Pud had +taken the other end of the argument. Tim, you +see, had already determined to follow in his +father’s steps and Pud had already decided to +become a newspaper man like his dad. In the +heat of the argument things had been said that +stung, and finally the two had parted, hurling +recriminations at each other across the fence. +Already the coldness had lasted longer than +any previous breach of their friendship, and +Pud was convinced that the time for reconciliation +was already past, but—and here he let +the screen door slam behind him vehemently—he’d +be jiggered if he’d speak first!</p> + +<p>After dinner was over and he had helped his<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_14"></a>[14]</span> +mother with the few dishes, without, for once, +having to be commanded, he sauntered carelessly +into the dining-room and from there to +the parlor. For a minute he gazed out into the +shade-mottled glare of the street, whistling +loudly. Presently, though, the whistling ceased +and, with a furtive glance toward the kitchen, +he eased himself noiselessly into the hall, out +the front door, and onto the porch. Then he +made his way quietly around the farther side of +the house, and, keeping close to the tangle of +bushes that hid the high board fence dividing +their yard from the Kepharts’ he gained the +stable door and, glancing once more toward the +kitchen, disappeared from view.</p> + +<p>It was fairly cool in the stable until he had +creakingly ascended the narrow stairway to +the loft. Up there the heat was almost discouraging. +But the sun had moved away from +the end window, and, seated on a dilapidated +buggy cushion close to the casement, it was +possible to get an occasional breath of air. +The loft held Pud’s most precious belongings; +his printing-press, his patent exerciser, Indian +clubs, roller skates, old games, and a valuable +miscellany of treasures. This was Pud’s <i lang="la">sanctum +sanctorum</i>, his office, playroom, and harbor +of refuge. There was an unwritten law, rigidly +respected by Mr. and Mrs. Pringle, that prohibited<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_15"></a>[15]</span> +grown-ups from ascending the stairway +beyond the turn.</p> + +<p>Pud’s library occupied a shelf beside the +window. It came very near to being a five-foot +library owing to the inclusion of all his +school-books of earlier years. Pud had inherited +respect for all things printed and could +never be induced to throw away a book, no +matter how ancient or worn. There were new +books as well as old ones, however, and the +new ones ran to sensational adventure. The +newest of all, which Pud, having settled himself +comfortably, took from the shelf, was ‘The +Pirates of the Caribbean,’ the property, as +emphatically set forth inside the cover, of The +Millville Free Public Library. For a few moments +he listened for the slam of the front gate, +and then, as Mr. Tully’s promise seemed to +have been forgotten, he heaved a sigh of relief +and, sliding lower onto his spine, placed his +right knee over his left and in a jiffy was far +away on tropical seas, swinging a cutlass with +the best of them!</p> + +<p>But, although Pud didn’t know it then, Mr. +Tully did call, and with the result that when +Pud’s father returned from a trip to a neighboring +town at about five o’clock, there ensued a +sober conference on the front porch in the +course of which Pud’s mother said: ‘I think he<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_16"></a>[16]</span> +reads too many improbable stories, Anson, and +sees far too many sensational moving pictures. +He ought to be outdoors more and not spend +so much of his time in the stable loft. Now that +school is over, it will be worse than ever. I do +wish we could send him to a summer camp, +but that would be too expensive, I suppose.’</p> + +<p>‘It would,’ agreed Mr. Pringle promptly and +emphatically, ‘but it’s just possible that we can +think of something else, Mary. Now ... let +... me ... see.’</p> + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_17"></a>[17]</span></p> + +<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_II">CHAPTER II<br> +<small>FRIENDS MAKE UP</small></h2> +</div> + + +<p>‘Oh, Tim!’</p> + +<p>Pud, his scuffed shoes wedged between the +pickets, leaned across the fence and hailed his +neighbor excitedly. But Tim, his back turned, +was propelling the lawn-mower along the edge +of the grass-plot in front of the house, and the +strident chatter of the machine deafened him +to the hail. Pud took a deeper breath and tried +again. This time he almost threw himself from +the fence.</p> + +<p>‘<em>Tim! Tim Daley!</em>’</p> + +<p>Tim heard, turned, looked, and stopped the +mower.</p> + +<p>‘Hello,’ he replied cautiously, and mopped +his heated brow with the back of his hand.</p> + +<p>‘Say, Tim, want to go with me and be a +pirate?’</p> + +<p>‘Huh?’ Tim relinquished the handle of the +mower and approached the fence. It was evident +by now that friendly relations were re-established, +and his good-looking countenance +held a smile that mingled delight with sheepishness. +But Pud had forgotten for the moment<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_18"></a>[18]</span> +all about the recent estrangement, and as Tim +drew near he went on gleefully:</p> + +<p>‘Want to be a pirate and sail down the river +in dad’s motor-boat and camp out at night +and—’</p> + +<p>‘Your dad hasn’t got any motor-boat,’ responded +Tim.</p> + +<p>‘He has, too! He got it last fall in trade with +a fellow who owed him some money. Don’t +you remember? It’s down at Mr. Tremble’s +yard. He’s going to let me take it and go off on +a trip. You’re going, too, Tim, and we’re going +to be pirates of the Caribbean! We’re going to +have a tent and a lot of food and dad’s going to +have Mr. Tremble teach us to run it!’</p> + +<p>‘The tent?’ asked Tim puzzledly.</p> + +<p>‘The boat, you chump! We’re going to start +next Monday. Want to come?’ Pud paused +anxiously.</p> + +<p>‘Why, I guess so,’ answered Tim, ‘only I +don’t know will father let me, Pud.’</p> + +<p>‘Why not? Why won’t he let you?’</p> + +<p>‘He says—’ Tim hesitated at the possibility +of hurting his chum’s feelings. ‘He says you +take too many risks.’</p> + +<p>Pud stared, stricken to silence by such an +outrageous accusation. ‘Risks!’ he finally +ejaculated. ‘How do you mean risks? I ain’t +any riskier than—he is!’</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_19"></a>[19]</span></p> + +<p>‘Well, you know,’ answered Tim placatingly, +‘we did get in a fix last winter on the ice that +time.’</p> + +<p>‘What of it? What’s he want to blame me +for? How was I going to know that that old +hunk was going to break loose like that? Gee, +you’d think I’d done it on purpose, the way you +talk!’</p> + +<p>‘I don’t talk,’ denied Tim vigorously. ‘I +only said what father said. Anyway, if you +hadn’t insisted on going out there that day we +wouldn’t have been there when it did break +away. I told you it wasn’t safe.’</p> + +<p>‘Shucks! A lot you knew about it! Besides, +we got off all right, didn’t we?’</p> + +<p>‘Y-yes, but they had to chase us way down +below the bridge, and if we’d hit one of the +piers—’</p> + +<p>‘“If”! Well, we didn’t. Gee, if you don’t +want to go, just say so. I guess I can find some +one else. Most fellows would jump at the chance +to go off a whole week in a corking boat and +camp out at night and cook their own grub +and—’</p> + +<p>‘Who’s going to cook it?’ demanded Tim.</p> + +<p>‘Both of us. Or we could take turns. <em>I</em> don’t +mind cooking a bit. Anyway, we’d just have +bacon and easy things like that.’</p> + +<p>‘I don’t like bacon,’ said Tim coldly.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_20"></a>[20]</span></p> + +<p>‘Well, you wouldn’t <em>have</em> to eat it, I guess. +Gee, you can think up more—more objections!’</p> + +<p>‘I can’t either! Only I don’t like to cook, +and if I have to do it I’d rather not go. Couldn’t +we take things that didn’t have to be +cooked?’</p> + +<p>‘Sure! That’s easy.’ Pud’s cheerfulness +returned. ‘We can take things in cans, like +corn-beef and—and—’</p> + +<p>‘Frankfurters,’ suggested Tim.</p> + +<p>Pud scowled. ‘Gee, no, they’re awful, Tim!’</p> + +<p>‘I like them,’ said Tim placidly. ‘And then +there’s beans.’</p> + +<p>‘Yes, beans are all right. And canned tomatoes +and corn—’</p> + +<p>‘And peaches,’ added Tim wistfully.</p> + +<p>‘Well, I guess peaches are pretty expensive. +Say, had your breakfast?’</p> + +<p>‘Yes. You?’</p> + +<p>Pud nodded. ‘Let’s go and ask your father +if you can come with me, Tim. Will you?’</p> + +<p>‘He’s working on a job over across the creek,’ +answered the other doubtfully.</p> + +<p>‘Well, why not ask him right now? We’ll +both go, eh?’</p> + +<p>Tim looked at the mower. ‘I ought to get +this grass cut,’ he muttered.</p> + +<p>‘Gosh!’ exploded Pud. ‘How long’s that<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_21"></a>[21]</span> +going to take, I’d like to know. You—you’re +a rotten pirate!’</p> + +<p>‘I never said I was a pirate,’ replied Tim +equably. ‘But if father comes home and finds +I haven’t cut the grass he will be madder’n +a hornet.’</p> + +<p>‘That’s all right. When we come back I’ll +get our mower and help you.’</p> + +<p>Tim considered and finally agreed, and a +minute later they were going side by side along +Arundel Street. ‘How’d your father come to +say you could do it?’ asked Tim.</p> + +<p>‘He and ma think I ought to be outdoors +more,’ replied Pud evasively. Tim was about +to seek further enlightenment when Pud suddenly +stopped short.</p> + +<p>‘Gee!’ he exclaimed. ‘There’s Harmon +Johnson!’</p> + +<p>‘What of it?’ demanded Tim, pulling away +from his friend’s clutching fingers.</p> + +<p>‘What of it! Why, don’t you see?’ Pud’s +voice, lowered to a hoarse whisper, was exultant. +‘Pirates always have a black man +to cook for ’em. We’ll get Harmon to come +along!’</p> + +<p>‘No, we won’t either! I’m not going to sleep +with any negro!’</p> + +<p>‘Who’s asking you to sleep with him?’ inquired +Pud impatiently. ‘He can sleep outside,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_22"></a>[22]</span> +can’t he? And he can do all the cooking and +wash the dishes and—and everything.’</p> + +<p>‘How do you know he can cook?’</p> + +<p>‘All colored folks can cook. Anyway, I guess +he can do it as well as you or I can.’</p> + +<p>‘Yes, that’s so.’</p> + +<p>The object of their remarks approached unhurriedly. +He was a year younger than Pud +and Tim, but he looked older. He was very +black, with a round and solemn countenance +and a broad-shouldered, sturdy body. His +father worked in the chair factory and his +mother was locally famed as a laundress of +more than ordinary skill. They lived in Logtown, +the community of cabins clustered along +the nearer bank of Town Creek. Harmon when +not in school worked variously as delivery boy, +messenger, assistant washer at Floyd’s Garage +and chore-boy for any one who required his +services. Just now, shuffling along on dusty +bare feet, he appeared to be out of employment.</p> + +<p>‘Hello, Harmon,’ greeted Pud genially.</p> + +<p>‘Hello,’ returned Harmon, coming to a halt +in front of them and resting a gravely questioning +gaze on Pud.</p> + +<p>‘Say, Harmon, want to go on a cruise in a +motor-boat with us?’</p> + +<p>Harmon nodded unemotionally. He didn’t +know what Pud meant, but it sounded as though<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_23"></a>[23]</span> +there might be a quarter or maybe a half-dollar +in it. ‘When you-all want me to do it?’ +he inquired.</p> + +<p>‘We’re going to start next Monday,’ replied +Pud importantly.</p> + +<p>Harmon nodded again and started on. ‘I +reckon I can ’tend to it for you,’ he assured +them. ‘I usually gets half a dollar,’ he added.</p> + +<p>‘Hold on! You don’t understand, Harmon. +You—you don’t get anything for it.’</p> + +<p>‘How-come?’ Harmon looked slightly derisive.</p> + +<p>Pud, assisted by Tim, explained at length +and with great detail that this was not a business +matter, that, on the contrary, they were +proposing to allow Harmon to share in a whole +week of idle enjoyment, with plenty to eat and +nothing to do—much.</p> + +<p>‘Who cooks all these rations you tell about?’ +asked the darky at last.</p> + +<p>‘Why—’ Pud’s gaze wandered to the distant +horizon—‘any of us. You could if you liked, +Harmon.’</p> + +<p>Harmon wiggled five toes against the dirt +and observed them thoughtfully. Pud and Tim +exchanged anxious glances.</p> + +<p>‘I get my meals for nothin’, don’ I?’ Harmon +inquired.</p> + +<p>‘Sure! And a bed to sleep in—that is, a—a<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_24"></a>[24]</span> +place to sleep; and nothing to do but have a +good time!’</p> + +<p>Harmon’s face lighted slowly and two rows +of white teeth flashed. ‘Can I run the boat +sometimes?’ he asked.</p> + +<p>‘Of course you can,’ said Pud magnanimously. +‘And steer it, too.’</p> + +<p>‘All right,’ decided Harmon. ‘You tell me +when you want me an’ I’ll be there.’</p> + +<p>‘That’s fine,’ declared Tim, ‘but what about +your father, Harmon? Or your mother? Think +they’ll let you go?’</p> + +<p>Harmon nodded untroubledly. ‘Boun’ to,’ +he said.</p> + +<p>The boys continued their journey elatedly. +‘I didn’t say anything about being pirates,’ +explained Pud, ‘because I didn’t want to scare +him. Maybe he wouldn’t want to go if he knew. +Darkies are awfully scarey, you know.’</p> + +<p>‘Say, wait a minute,’ exclaimed Tim suspiciously. +‘What’s all this about being pirates? +What do you mean pirates?’</p> + +<p>‘Why, you know what a pirate is, don’t you?’ +replied Pud evasively.</p> + +<p>‘Sure, but there aren’t any pirates these +days, so how can we be them?’</p> + +<p>‘Aren’t any pirates, eh?’ said Pud derisively. +‘I guess you don’t know much about them. +Didn’t you ever hear of river pirates?’</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_25"></a>[25]</span></p> + +<p>Tim shook his head. ‘I’ve heard of oyster +pirates.’</p> + +<p>‘Huh, they ain’t real pirates. River pirates +are just like the pirates of the Caribbean. +That’s what we’re going to be.’</p> + +<p>‘What do we do?’ asked Tim uneasily.</p> + +<p>‘Why, we—well, we just be pirates! Of +course we don’t murder folks, but we—we do +other things.’</p> + +<p>‘Such as what?’ persisted his chum.</p> + +<p>‘Well—’ Pud’s gaze became far-away and +sort of glassy. ‘Maybe we’ll sack a town and +carry off its treasures. And board a merchant +craft and capture her. And hang the captain +to the—’</p> + +<p>‘Rats!’ said Tim. ‘You can’t hang a man +without murdering him, can you? All right, +I’ll be a pirate of the Cabirean, just as long as +it’s only play—’</p> + +<p>‘Caribbean, you idiot. And it isn’t only +play, either. At least, not—well, you never +know what’s going to happen!’ And Pud +stared darkly into the muddy waters of Town +Creek as they tramped across the footbridge.</p> + +<p>Mr. Daley was surprisingly complaisant +when they found him. He was a tall, large-boned +man with only a trace of the Irish in +features and talk. He stopped planing down<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_26"></a>[26]</span> +the edge of a board while Tim and Pud explained +the nature of their errand and observed +them with deep-set, kindly gray eyes. ‘Why, +now,’ he said at last, ‘it’s mighty kind of your +father, Pud, and I guess Tim would enjoy it +fine. You’d be gone no more’n a week, eh? +Well, I’ll be missing the boy, but that’s nothing +if he wants to go. But I’m warning you fair, +Tim, if you get drowned, I’ll whale the life out +of you so soon’s I get my hands on you!’</p> + +<p>Back at Tim’s house, they set to work on +the lawn and the side yard, and for nearly an +hour the two mowers droned in the hot sunlight +of mid-forenoon. At last the work was +done and the machines put away and the boys +found a shaded spot under a big maple in Tim’s +yard and went to planning. Tim’s enthusiasm +was now equal quite to Pud’s as, pencil in +hand, he set down item after item on a short +length of clean white pine board.</p> + +<p>‘Golly,’ he said, having corrected ‘beens’ to +‘beans’ at the bottom of the long list, ‘I wish +we were going to-morrow, Pud, instead of +Monday!’</p> + +<p>‘So do I.’ Pud’s tone held an emphasis that +brought an inquiring look from his companion. +‘I’ve got to do a lot of work before Monday,’ +Pud sighed. ‘You see—say, I didn’t tell you +about Mr. Tully, the Baptist minister, did I?<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_27"></a>[27]</span> +That was yesterday, and—and I didn’t see +you yesterday,’ Pud ended hastily.</p> + +<p>‘What about him?’ demanded Tim eagerly.</p> + +<p>So Pud narrated the event and its results, +Tim chuckling wickedly at times. The finish of +the tale held little of humor, though. ‘Dad +gave me fits,’ said Pud moodily. ‘Made me +promise not to do it again and said I had to +apologize to Mr. Tully.’</p> + +<p>‘Did you?’ inquired Tim interestedly.</p> + +<p>Pud shook his head. ‘Not yet. I’m going to +after dinner.’</p> + +<p>‘Oh, that isn’t so bad.’</p> + +<p>‘But that isn’t all of it,’ responded the other +sadly. ‘I’ve got to go to dad’s office to-morrow +and Saturday and help fold a lot of circulars; +’most four thousand of them. He said that was +for punishment. Gee, I hate folding circulars!’</p> + +<p>‘Four thousand!’ Tim whistled expressively. +‘You got to do them all?’</p> + +<p>‘No, I don’t suppose so. He said I was to +help Jimmy, one of the men in the shop. But +I’ll bet I’ll have to do most of ’em!’</p> + +<p>‘And that’s why we can’t start till Monday?’</p> + +<p>‘Yes. And if they aren’t all done, we can’t +get going even then!’</p> + +<p>There was silence under the elm. Then Tim +asked: ‘Is it hard? Folding circulars, I mean.’</p> + +<p>‘No, it ain’t hard,’ answered Pud despondently,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_28"></a>[28]</span> +‘but it’s awful monotonous. You just +fold ’em so’—he illustrated sketchily—‘and +crease ’em with a wooden ruler, so’—a second +illustration—‘and then you do it again, and +that’s all.’</p> + +<p>‘Could I do it, Pud?’</p> + +<p>Pud looked across swiftly, his brown eyes +lighting as if they saw a wonderful vision. +‘Sure!’ he cried.</p> + +<p>‘All right, then,’ said Tim, ‘I’ll help you.’</p> + +<p>Pud nodded radiantly. Then his face sobered +and his gaze dropped and another silence held +for a moment. Finally, ‘Say, Tim,’ he muttered, +‘I guess maybe I was wrong the other day +about you having to know more to be an editor +than to be a contractor.’</p> + +<p>‘Oh, shut up,’ said Tim testily. ‘You weren’t +either. What’ll I put down after “beans”?’</p> + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_29"></a>[29]</span></p> + +<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_III">CHAPTER III<br> +<small>THE KISMET STARTS ON HER VOYAGE</small></h2> +</div> + + +<p>‘Shove her off there!’</p> + +<p>The captain of the launch <i>Kismet</i> gave the +order in a fine, gruff, sailor-like voice as he +pulled the throttle a trifle wider. The deck-hand, +seated on the edge of the scanty after +deck, set two bare feet against the float and +pushed hard. The mate gripped the wheel +tightly, fixed anxious blue eyes on the stern of +a lumber schooner fully ten fathoms away and +hoped for the best. The launch’s nose swung +slowly into the stream, the captain pulled back +on the clutch lever and there ensued a clattering, +jarring noise that caused the deck-hand +very nearly to lose his balance and go overboard. +Then the alarming sounds ceased and +the <i>Kismet</i> lurched forward. The mate saw, +with vast relief, that a collision with the +schooner was averted—by the narrow margin +of some forty feet—and dared a backward +look at the dock where his father and Pud’s +father and bow-legged Andy Tremble were +gathered to see them off. They were waving +and calling, and Tim waved and shouted back.<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_30"></a>[30]</span> +So did Pud. Harmon only showed a flash of +white teeth. There was no one there to say +good-bye to Harmon, but he didn’t seem to +mind. The launch straightened out in the +middle of the river and pointed her bow for +the bridge. The figures on the boat-yard float +receded and were presently lost to sight. Captain +and mate exchanged a look of triumph. +The voyage had begun!</p> + +<p>Presently there ensued an anxious period +when, the little two-cylinder engine throttled +down and Pud and Tim both at the wheel, the +<i>Kismet</i> negotiated the passage under the long +bridge. The space looked alarmingly narrow +as they approached, but once in the shadows +of the ancient timbers there was room and to +spare on each side, and almost nonchalantly +Pud opened her up again. As they passed again +into the sunlight Gus Miller’s station jitney +rattled across and Gus waved down to them. +Pud returned the salutation with all the dignity +of the captain of an ocean liner waving from +her bridge. The railroad station went slowly +astern and a long line of box cars on the siding +followed. The water tower on Coop’s Hill was +all that remained in view of Millville now. On +their left a red clay bank arose to the edge of +the meadows. On their right trees and bushes +marched straight down to the gently flowing<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_31"></a>[31]</span> +water. Pud gave a sigh of great contentment.</p> + +<p>‘Some little craft, Tim,’ he said.</p> + +<p>‘Sure is,’ agreed Tim. ‘Say, it ain’t hard to +steer, is it, when you get used to it?’</p> + +<p>‘N-no, not here,’ answered Pud, ‘but you +wait till she gets in a sea!’</p> + +<p>‘How do you mean sea?’ asked Tim anxiously. +‘Where are we going to get in any sea?’</p> + +<p>‘Well, I guess this old river can kick up +pretty mean lower down,’ said Pud. ‘Take it +around Mumford, Tim, and it’s ’most a mile +wide.’</p> + +<p>‘Mumford! Gosh, we ain’t going that far. +Why Mumford’s forty miles, pretty near, by +river.’</p> + +<p>‘What of it? This old cruiser’s doing five +miles right now, I guess, and it would only +take us eight hours to get to Mumford, wouldn’t +it? Why, we could get as far as that to-day +if we wanted to!’</p> + +<p>‘Well, but you said we were going to just +cruise and take it easy. You said we’d go up +Fox River a way and explore. You didn’t say +anything about Mumford, and I’ll tell you +right now I ain’t going to take any chances!’</p> + +<p>‘Pshaw, who’s asking you to? Why, this +boat’s a mighty safe old craft, I tell you. I +guess I wouldn’t be afraid to go right out into +the sound in her.’</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_32"></a>[32]</span></p> + +<p>‘Well, you can go alone,’ answered Tim +decidedly. ‘When you get ready to do that, +just you dump me and Harmon ashore.’</p> + +<p>‘I’ll bet Harmon wouldn’t be scared to go, +would you, Harmon?’</p> + +<p>‘Where’s ’at?’ asked the darky, who, since +leaving the float, had been watching the +engine in grave fascination.</p> + +<p>‘Out in the sound. You wouldn’t be afraid, +would you?’</p> + +<p>‘What kind o’ sound?’</p> + +<p>‘Why, the ocean down at the mouth of the +river.’</p> + +<p>‘I ain’ never heerd no sound yet I’s scared +of,’ replied Harmon calmly.</p> + +<p>Tim laughed. Pud, about to make the matter +clear, was interrupted by a sudden grinding +and thumping from aft the engine and hurried +off. When you put the clutch lever back on the +<i>Kismet</i>, you had to engage it with a little wire +hook or else it slipped back into neutral. Pud +knew this, but in the excitement of getting +away had forgotten it. Now he remedied the +matter and returned to the bow, but not to +the recent subject of discourse. A man fishing +from a flat-bottomed punt just ahead and a +few yards from the shore claimed his interest. +To see if the man had had any luck, Pud +turned the launch toward the punt.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_33"></a>[33]</span></p> + +<p>‘Catching anything?’ he called as the <i>Kismet</i> +waddled past a few yards distant.</p> + +<p>A red and irate countenance turned toward +them and the disciple of Izaak Walton gestured +fiercely with the hand that wasn’t busy with +his pole. ‘You consarned whippersnappers,’ +he yelled, ‘ain’t you got no sense at all? What +do you mean acomin’ over here and scarin’ all +the fish away? If I had ahold of you a minute +I’d teach you some sense, you dog-gone, low-down +trash! I’d show you who was catchin’ +anythin’! I’d plumb wear you out, dod-bust +you! I’d—’</p> + +<p>The <i>Kismet</i> passed from hearing, but back up +the stream the angry gentleman still shook his +fist at them. Pud and Tim looked a bit chastened, +but the usually solemn Harmon was +doubled over with mirth.</p> + +<p>‘Yeah, yeah!’ he gurgled. ‘Old Mister Man +certainly was talkin’ fine! Lawsy, lawsy! My +golly, wan’t he angrified?’</p> + +<p>‘Huh,’ said Pud, ‘I don’t believe he ever +caught anything there, anyway, the old +grouch!’</p> + +<p>After a minute Tim asked wistfully: ‘Where +do we stop for dinner, Pud?’</p> + +<p>‘Dinner? Gee, it’s only a little after ten! +Didn’t you eat any breakfast?’</p> + +<p>‘Not much,’ acknowledged Tim. ‘I guess I +was too excited.’</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_34"></a>[34]</span></p> + +<p>‘Hm, well, I guess I was, too. Just the same, +we hadn’t ought to have dinner before twelve; +or, maybe, half-past eleven.’</p> + +<p>‘N-no, but thinking about it sort of helps,’ +murmured Tim.</p> + +<p>It got pretty warm on the river as the sun +moved toward the zenith and both Pud and +Tim began to look longingly at the occasional +shady places they passed. Harmon lay flat on +his back on the stern seat, one bare black arm +across his eyes, utterly motionless, silent and +contented. They chugged past Farquhar’s +Landing with its half-dozen scattered houses +and gazed back regretfully at the broad oaks +that lined the single street. Ahead of them lay +a long stretch of open stream, sun-smitten, its +banks barren of shade. Pud consulted his silver +watch and announced casually: ‘’Most quarter-past +eleven. Guess we might as well stop at +the next place that looks good, Tim. Won’t do +to overheat the engine.’</p> + +<p>‘What about me getting overheated?’ grumbled +Tim. ‘Anyway, there isn’t any place in +sight, and by the time we get to one, I’ll be +fried as hard as an egg.’</p> + +<p>‘I guess it isn’t any hotter for you than it is +for me,’ said Pud. ‘Looks like there were trees +down beyond that bend, don’t it?’</p> + +<p>Tim agreed that it did sort of look that way,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_35"></a>[35]</span> +and a quarter of an hour later the <i>Kismet</i> +sidled up to the shore at the right where a straggling +grove of trees had taken possession of one +corner of a field. Although the launch drew only +about eighteen inches, they couldn’t get her +nose close enough to land dry-shod, and so +Harmon waded ashore with the bowline and +made it fast to the bole of a willow. Then he +pushed a log out toward the launch and Tim +got ashore on it without wetting more than one +foot slightly. It was decided to be much too +hot to do any cooking, so Pud selected a box of +crackers, a can of potted ham, six bananas, and +three bottles of lemon tonic from the larder and +carefully tossed the articles one by one across +the intervening space of mud and water to Tim. +Everything got over safely except one of the +bottles, and Harmon rescued that. Having +turned off the gasoline at the tank according to +instructions from Andy Tremble, Pud set out +to join the others. Perhaps the current had +slightly misplaced the log. Anyhow, Pud felt +the water creeping about one ankle, gave a +startled exclamation and advanced his other +foot hurriedly with the result that he stepped +on the side of the log and—Oh, well, what +finally happened was that Pud sat squarely +down in three inches of water!</p> + +<p>To his credit it is here related that he didn’t<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_36"></a>[36]</span> +get angry. After an instant of surprise and +dismay, he accepted the misadventure as an +excellent joke and laughed so hard that it required +aid from the grinning Tim to get him to +his feet. Harmon was rolling about on the +ground, convulsed with joy. Laughter cleared +the atmosphere considerably. The heat on the +river had commenced to make both Pud and +Tim somewhat testy. Pud ate his lunch with +no more on than his underclothes. The costume +was sufficient for the occasion, and Tim envied +him until the mosquitoes learned of their arrival +and kept Pud so busy slapping that he +scarcely had time to eat. Things tasted pretty +good, although the tonic would have been more +satisfying if it hadn’t been rather more than +lukewarm. When the none too hearty repast +was finished to the last crumb, Harmon was +dispatched first to the launch for the lard-pail +that was to do duty as a water bucket and then +up the hill in the hot noonday sunshine in +search of a well or a spring. The river water +was too warm to drink. When Harmon had +uncomplainingly departed, the others provided +themselves with branches with which to fight +the mosquitoes and made themselves comfortable. +A few yards away the launch rubbed her +sides against a snag and looked, as Pud proudly +observed, ‘pretty good.’</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_37"></a>[37]</span></p> + +<p>The <i>Kismet</i> was twenty-and-a-half feet long +and six feet wide, proportions that made less +for speed than comfort and safety. She was +open all the way from her short forward deck to +her even shorter after deck. The engine was +placed amidship. A seat extended across the +stern and along either side. Two folding canvas +stools were also provided. The seats had +lockers under them, and there was a locker beneath +the stern decking and a space at the bow +pretty much taken up by the gasoline tank. +The <i>Kismet</i> had been painted buff to the water-line +and white above it, but the white had long +since turned to drab. There hadn’t been time +to repaint the launch, even had Mr. Pringle +decided to go to the expense. All that Andy +Tremble, in whose boat-yard the <i>Kismet</i> had +lain since the previous fall, had been able to do +was use a scrubbing brush on the paint and +varnish and overhaul the engine. The latter +badly needed a coat of enamel, but in lieu of +that Andy had doused it well with cylinder oil, +and for quite three days it looked fairly decent. +After that it went back to its former hues of +rusty red and yellow.</p> + +<p>The lockers were all filled to capacity, for +both Pud and Tim had found it necessary to +take along a great many things not usually +considered essential to such a voyage. Harmon<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_38"></a>[38]</span> +alone had arrived in light marching order, his +effects consisting principally of a blue cotton +shirt and a mouth-organ. Mrs. Pringle had +censored the boys’ list of rations with a stern +hand, and when she had finished Pud had +voiced the dismal prophecy that he and Tim—not +to mention Harmon—would undoubtedly +starve to death long before the week was up. +Mrs. Pringle had supplied the larder with essentials +only, although at the last moment she +had consented to two dozen bottles of tonic and +had added a cake of her own baking. Pud had +supplied a dozen bananas and Tim had thoughtfully +bought five bars of chocolate not too generously +studded with almonds. Mr. Pringle had +dug out his camping outfit in the garret: an +‘A’ tent, slightly mildewed but whole, two folding +canvas cots, a folding stove, an aluminum +cooking-kit, and a carbide lantern, and Mrs. +Pringle had provided blankets, towels, a great +deal more soap than Pud considered necessary, +several tin plates and cups and various other +impedimenta. Pud and Tim had each taken a +change of clothes, swimming trunks, a sweater, +and a rubber coat; and at the last moment Tim +had scurried home to get a gray flannel shirt!</p> + +<p>Both boys had taken a wealth of fishing +paraphernalia, including a can of worms; Pud +had put in his camera; Tim had bought a baseball<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_39"></a>[39]</span> +and catcher’s mitten; Pud had provided +an ancient musket that had lain in the attic for +many years and hadn’t been used for nearly a +century; Tim had fetched almost a complete +set of tools selected from his father’s discarded +implements; and there were numerous other +items besides, many of which never emerged +from the lockers until the <i>Kismet</i> was back in +her home port. One of such was an automobile +horn that Tim had traded for with Lee Stiles, +Egbert Stiles’s cousin. It made a perfectly +glorious howl when you punched down on it, +and Tim thought it would be a fine thing to +mount it on the launch’s bow and blow it when +they met other boats, but he forgot all about it +afterward.</p> + +<p>All these things severely taxed the capacity +of the storage space. In fact, the tent and the +cots and the cooking-utensils, which lived in a +canvas bag when not in use, had to lie in the +forward compartment and were forever being +stumbled over. So, too, with the box of tonic +and a peck of potatoes in a paper sack, neither +of which would accommodate themselves to a +locker. After the first rain the potatoes burst +the sack and it became one of Harmon’s daily +duties to rout them out from unexpected places +and herd them together again. There was, also, +a boat-hook which seemed to have no real<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_40"></a>[40]</span> +home and which was always lying on the floor +where you could easiest put an unwary foot on +it. After Pud and Tim had each narrowly escaped +broken limbs as a result of stepping +on the pesky thing and Pud had exasperatedly +threatened to heave it overboard, Harmon +cleverly solved the difficulty by tying a line to +it and dropping it over the side. There were +times when they might have made use of it if +it had been handy, but it wasn’t and they got +on very nicely without it.</p> + +<p>I think that’s all the description the <i>Kismet</i> +merits. Perhaps I should add that an empty +flagpole leaned rakishly from a brass socket at +the stern and that the boat’s name, done in +black letters, could still be plainly read on each +side of the bow. So much, then, for the craft, +and now let us return to the crew.</p> + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_41"></a>[41]</span></p> + +<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_IV">CHAPTER IV<br> +<small>UNDER THE SKULL-AND-CROSS-BONES</small></h2> +</div> + + +<p>‘I wish he’d hurry up with that water,’ muttered +Tim, his hands under his head, his straw +hat pulled over his forehead, and the rest of +his countenance obscured by the wilted leaves +of the maple branch which he had thrust between +the buttons of his shirt. Pud, cross-legged, +a grass-blade between his teeth and +a ruminative look on his face, answered absently,</p> + +<p>‘Maybe he will.’</p> + +<p>It was getting along toward one o’clock now, +and thrice they had had to shift their positions +to keep the tree boughs between them and the +glowing sun. There was a faint breath of air +creeping down the long green slope behind them +which to some extent made existence more +bearable. At least, it gave them a slight advantage +over the mosquitoes.</p> + +<p>‘How far do you think we’ve come?’ asked +Tim after a minute of silence.</p> + +<p>Pud aroused himself from his abstraction and +uncrossed his cramped legs.</p> + +<p>‘Let’s see, Farquhar’s is eight miles, isn’t<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_42"></a>[42]</span> +it? And I guess we’re a couple of miles beyond +that. Say, ten miles in an hour and three +quarters is going some, Tim! Why, we must +have made six miles an hour, and Mr. Tremble +said she wouldn’t do better than five!’</p> + +<p>‘Well, don’t you suppose the current helped +some?’</p> + +<p>‘Gee, that’s so. Maybe it did, though it +isn’t very strong. Yes, I guess it must have.’</p> + +<p>‘How much farther do you think we’ll go +to-day?’ Tim sounded sleepy.</p> + +<p>‘Oh, I guess we’ll make the railroad bridge at +Livermore,’ responded Pud a trifle uncertainly. +‘That’s only about another ten miles, and I +dare say there’ll be a good camping-place +there.’</p> + +<p>‘You ever been there?’</p> + +<p>‘Sure.’</p> + +<p>‘By river, I mean.’</p> + +<p>‘No, not by river. I’ve never been beyond +Farquhar’s by river, but I’ve been to Livermore +by train.’</p> + +<p>‘We’d ought to have a map,’ murmured Tim.</p> + +<p>‘What for? You can’t get lost on a river, can +you?’</p> + +<p>‘Well, they say you can get lost on Fox +River. They say it sort of runs around in +circles, and there’s a lot of branches and creeks +too.’</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_43"></a>[43]</span></p> + +<p>‘You can’t get lost on any river,’ answered +Pud decisively, ‘because all you’ve got to do is +follow the current and you’ll come out of it.’</p> + +<p>‘Yeah, that’s so,’ agreed Tim. ‘Just the +same, I heard Father tell once how a couple of +Revenue men went up there to Swamp Hole +and were lost ’most a week.’</p> + +<p>‘Must have got into the woods, or the swamp +then. Say, I guess that’s a wild place, eh?’</p> + +<p>‘The Hole? Gosh, I wouldn’t go near that +place for a million dollars!’</p> + +<p>‘I would,’ said Pud promptly. ‘I’d like +mighty well to see what it’s like, wouldn’t you? +If you could get there without being seen, eh?’</p> + +<p>But Tim shook his head. ‘No, sir, I wouldn’t. +I guess the folks that live there would just as +soon cut your throat as say “Howdy.” They +say there’s folks living in Swamp Hole that +ain’t ever been outside it, Pud.’</p> + +<p>‘I guess a lot of ’em wouldn’t dare come out,’ +chuckled Pud, ‘for fear the sheriff would get +’em. I’m going to see if my clothes are dry.’</p> + +<p>‘Going to put them on?’</p> + +<p>‘Yes. Why?’</p> + +<p>‘I was thinking we might go in swimming.’</p> + +<p>‘Gee, why not? Want to?’ Tim assented. +‘All right, I’ll get the trunks.’</p> + +<p>Pud waded out to the launch, climbed +aboard and began hunting through the lockers.<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_44"></a>[44]</span> +It took him a long time to find the articles, for, +although when they had stored their belongings +away, they had been quite certain they could +put their hands on them again instantly, now +he couldn’t remember where a single thing was! +When he had pulled most of the dunnage from +one side of the boat, he was hot but triumphant +and splashed back to shore with the bathing-trunks +just as Harmon ambled into sight. The +thought of a drink of cold water was so welcome +that he didn’t say a word about the time it had +taken Harmon to do the errand. But when he +had taken one gulp of the contents of the lard-pail +he found his voice.</p> + +<p>‘For goodness’ sake,’ he exclaimed disgustedly, +‘where’d you get that stuff? It’s as +warm as—as dish water!’</p> + +<p>‘Oh, gosh!’ moaned Tim. ‘Ain’t it any good, +Pud?’</p> + +<p>‘Well, you can drink it if you like. I won’t. +He never got that out of any well, I’ll bet!’</p> + +<p>‘I did, too,’ declared Harmon. ‘I got it out +of a gentleman that lives in a big white house’s +well. It was gran’ and col’, too, but I reckon +it done got warmed up luggin’ it back here, +’cause it’s mos’ of two miles.’</p> + +<p>‘Two miles! Gee!’ Pud looked from the pail +to Harmon. ‘Well, I guess if you went two +miles for it, we oughtn’t to kick. Just the<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_45"></a>[45]</span> +same, it’s too warm to drink. And my throat’s +as dry as—as—’</p> + +<p>‘So’s mine,’ said Tim.</p> + +<p>‘If you-all wants some col’ water,’ announced +Harmon, ‘I’ll get you plenty of it.’</p> + +<p>‘Where?’ asked Pud.</p> + +<p>Harmon pointed to the bank of the river. +‘Right yonder. I got to have me a shovel, +though.’</p> + +<p>‘Gee, that’s so. I never thought of that, +Tim. All we’ve got to do is dig a hole back +from the river a bit and let it fill up. But we +haven’t any shovel!’</p> + +<p>‘That’s a fact,’ owned Tim. ‘And I thought +we’d fetched everything we’d need, too!’</p> + +<p>Harmon, though, was resourceful, for, lacking +a shovel, he used a large iron spoon and, selecting +a spot half a dozen feet from the edge of the +water, soon had a hole dug. Anxiously, their +tongues almost hanging out, the others watched +the operation. From all sides of the tiny well +water trickled in, but Tim viewed the muddy +result distastefully. ‘Gosh,’ he said, ‘I wouldn’t +drink that stuff! Why, it might poison me!’</p> + +<p>‘Hold your horses,’ advised Pud. ‘Wait till +it settles.’</p> + +<p>Harmon, though, baled out most of the first +lot very carefully. Then the hole was allowed +to fill once more, and while it settled, Pud and<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_46"></a>[46]</span> +Tim got into their swimming-trunks. By the +time they were ready for the river, Harmon +announced the water ready for drinking. He +had got a tin cup from the launch and now he +dipped it into the little reservoir and offered it +to Tim. Tim looked at it, smelled it, and +finally tasted it. Then he drank it at two gulps.</p> + +<p>‘Gosh,’ he said, ‘that’s great! Cold, too!’</p> + +<p>Well, it wasn’t exactly cold, but it was cool, +and it was clear and sweet, and Harmon +gravely filled the cup many times before their +thirsts were satisfied. Then they went in swimming. +Harmon had brought no bathing attire, +but that trifling circumstance didn’t keep him +out of the water, and long after Pud and Tim +had had enough and were out again on the +grass, sunning themselves dry, Harmon still +paddled or floated idly about, the sunlight +glinting on the wet ebony of his skin.</p> + +<p>Having donned some of his clothes, Pud, +invigorated by his bath, said he guessed it was +time to fix up the launch. Tim wanted to know +what he meant by ‘fix up’ and was requested +to wait and see. Pud climbed into the launch, +rummaged awhile and reappeared to view with +two pieces of white oilcloth. Then he set about +tacking one of them on the bow. Tim advanced +to the edge of the water and watched +curiously. The oblong of oilcloth, evidently<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_47"></a>[47]</span> +cut from a piece that had seen service on Mrs. +Pringle’s kitchen table, was adorned with the +inscription, surprisingly well lettered in black +paint, JOLLY RODGER. Several tacks and +several whacks of the hammer secured the +strip of oilcloth over the word <i>Kismet</i>, and, +since the oilcloth was not particularly white +any longer, at a distance of a few yards it appeared +quite as though the new name was +painted on the hull.</p> + +<p>‘How’s it look?’ demanded Pud triumphantly +as he sent the last tack home and raised a +flushed countenance to Tim.</p> + +<p>‘All right,’ answered the other doubtfully, +‘only—’</p> + +<p>‘Only what?’</p> + +<p>‘I never saw “Roger” spelled with a “d,” +Pud.’</p> + +<p>‘Why not? R-o-d, Rod, g-e-r, ger; Rodger. +Isn’t that right?’</p> + +<p>Tim shook his head. ‘There isn’t any “d,” +Pud.’</p> + +<p>Pud scratched his bare head sheepishly. +Then he grinned. ‘Oh, well, what’s the diff? +I guess lots of pirates didn’t spell any better +than I do! Look, here’s the one for the other +side.’ He held up a second strip of oilcloth and +Tim read VENGANCE. This time he didn’t +have the heart to correct the spelling.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_48"></a>[48]</span></p> + +<p>‘Fine,’ he said, ‘but what’s the idea of having +different names?’</p> + +<p>‘Well, I couldn’t decide which was the +best. Besides, Tim, maybe it’ll confuse the +enemy.’</p> + +<p>‘Sure,’ agreed the other gravely.</p> + +<p>Harmon watched operations in solemn, uncomprehending +silence, noiselessly spelling the +word out. Pud’s hammer tap-tapped for a +minute and then there was nothing left to inform +the beholder that this apparently piratical +craft was in fact only the hitherto entirely +respectable <i>Kismet</i>. But Pud wasn’t through +even yet. Next appeared what looked to have +been part of a pillow-slip. This was decorated +with a skull-and-cross-bones, none too successfully +executed since the paint had run rather +badly in places. It took Pud quite five minutes +to get the thing tacked to the flagpole, and +then, tossing down his hammer, he waded back +to shore and stood for an equal length of time +in rapt contemplation of the improvements. +There wasn’t nearly enough breeze blowing to +display the gruesome emblem on the flag, but +Pud seemed thoroughly satisfied, and even +Tim was thrilled a little by the wicked appearance +of the transformed launch. As for Harmon, +curiosity at last got the better of him.</p> + +<p>‘What ’at flag for?’ he asked.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_49"></a>[49]</span></p> + +<p>‘That’s the pirate’s flag,’ Pud informed him. +‘We’re going to be pirates, Harmon.’</p> + +<p>‘Uh-huh. How we gets to be ’em?’</p> + +<p>Pud winked at Tim and answered gravely: +‘Oh, we kill folks and rob them, you know; run +them down and scuttle their ships and cut off +their heads and—’</p> + +<p>You never could tell beforehand, it seemed, +what would touch off Harmon’s peculiar sense +of humor. Now he dropped suddenly to the +grass and writhed in uproarious delight. His +teeth flashed and his eyes rolled and his bare +heels beat a wild tattoo on the turf. For an +instant the others were too surprised to do anything +save stare. Pud, indeed, was a trifle +chagrined that his explanation had failed to impress +Harmon as he had meant it to. But there +was no resisting the contagion of that laughter, +and after a moment they joined in, their amusement +occasioned, though, solely by Harmon’s +ridiculous antics. Harmon ceased almost as suddenly +as he had begun and sat up, supported by +widespread hands, and viewed them gravely. +Pud conquered his mirth and demanded sternly:</p> + +<p>‘For goodness’ sake, what’s the matter with +you, I’d like to know? What’s funny about +killing folks?’</p> + +<p>Harmon was threatened with a relapse, but +resisted it successfully. He only rolled his eyes<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_50"></a>[50]</span> +a little as he giggled: ‘Ain’ nothin’. I jus’ +laugh at the way you done tell it!’</p> + +<p>And that was the nearest to an explanation +he was capable of. Pud said ‘Humph!’ doubtfully. +Then he added darkly: ‘All right, but I +guess you won’t think it’s so funny when we +get to pirating right!’</p> + +<p>Harmon accepted the rebuke docilely and +without comment, and wandered away along +the river. ‘He’s crazy,’ muttered Pud, still +slightly indignant. But when he met Tim’s +twinkling eyes, he had to smile again. They +sat down once more in the shade and watched +the ripples on the water and talked fitfully. +After a while Pud looked at his watch. ‘Gee,’ +he said, ‘it’s twenty past three!’</p> + +<p>‘Gosh,’ murmured Tim, ‘is it?’</p> + +<p>‘Yes.’</p> + +<p>Then silence fell again between them. A +kingfisher called stridently from the limb of a +dead pine across the river and a fish broke the +water with a splash. Then Harmon returned +with his arms full of dry branches which he +dropped noisily near by.</p> + +<p>Pud sat up and stared inquiringly. ‘What’s +that for?’ he asked.</p> + +<p>‘Fire,’ answered Harmon. ‘Ain’ you-all goin’ +to have no supper?’</p> + +<p>‘Sure, but we’re not going to have it here,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_51"></a>[51]</span> +you chump. At least’—he looked doubtfully +at Tim—‘I don’t suppose we are.’</p> + +<p>Tim viewed the firewood, the sky, the river, +and then Pud. ‘Well, I don’t know,’ he answered +slowly. ‘This isn’t such a bad place, is +it?’</p> + +<p>‘N-no, it ain’t. We could put the tent up +over there; and we’ve got drinking water +handy. I’m willing if you are.’ Tim nodded +lazily. ‘All right, Harmon, we’ll stay—’</p> + +<p>But Harmon had gone again. Pud settled +back and laid an arm over his eyes.</p> + +<p>It was nearly five when he woke up. There +was sound of faint, elfin music in his ears, and +for a moment he couldn’t think where he was. +Then his drowsy eyes fell on the slumbering +Tim a yard away, journeyed on and encountered, +seated on the fallen trunk of a tree +beside the river, the gently swaying form of +Harmon, his mouth-organ at his lips. It was +cooler now, for the sun was sinking toward the +rim of distant forest and a little breeze ruffled +the water. Pud yawned, stretched, sat up and +shook Tim into wakefulness.</p> + +<p>They were very busy for a while, for all sorts +of things had to be transported from launch to +land; cooking outfit, food, tent, cots, and a +dozen other things at least. By six, Harmon, +spurning the intricate camp stove they had<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_52"></a>[52]</span> +brought, had a fire going between two dead logs +and had begun the preparation of the evening +meal. Pud and Tim, seated near by, watched +anxiously. As a cook Harmon was still an unknown +quantity. But their anxiety didn’t last +long. Harmon didn’t know how to cook many +things, but within his limitations he was a +master. The dexterous way in which he +cracked the eggs on the rim of the fry-pan without +losing a drop of their contents and then +deposited the unseparated yolks and whites in +exactly the right place in the sizzling grease +brought a sigh of relief from Pud and an anticipatory +gleam into Tim’s blue eyes. After that +they both ceased offering suggestions to the +chef and just leaned back on their elbows and +waited.</p> + +<p>They called it supper, but it had all the indications +of dinner. There were bacon and eggs +and baked beans and bread and butter and tea +and bananas and cake. They didn’t need the +bananas, perhaps, but Tim pointed out the undeniable +fact that they were getting pretty soft +and so they ate them to save them. After such a +repast the job of putting up the tent didn’t +appeal to them, but it had to be performed. +And there was no use of waiting for assistance +from Harmon, either, for Harmon had plenty +to do in washing up the dishes. So, rather half-heartedly<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_53"></a>[53]</span> +and with many protesting groans, +they set about their task. Of course the guy-ropes +were snarled and knotted, just as guy-ropes +always are, and there were four pegs +missing, and the ridgepole didn’t want to fit +onto the uprights. But they conquered in the +end, and set the two cots up inside—although +not before Tim had squeezed a finger painfully +in the process—and made their beds. When +they were done it was still daylight, although +the sun was resting on the tips of the far-off +pines. They cut some branches for Harmon +and laid them on the ground at a short distance +from the tent and then spread a blanket over +them. Harmon, through with his duties, looked +on rather dubiously.</p> + +<p>‘’Spose a bear come along an’ eat me,’ he +suggested finally.</p> + +<p>‘There aren’t any bears around here,’ said +Pud reassuringly. ‘Besides, all you’ve got to do +is yell.’</p> + +<p>‘Yes, sir, I sure goin’ do ’at,’ he answered +convincingly.</p> + +<p>At sunset the breeze died down and the +mosquitoes became troublesome once more. +So they built up the fire and smudged it with +green branches and damp wood and sat to +leeward—when there was any leeward—and +watched the light fade in the west and the<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_54"></a>[54]</span> +river turn from copper to steel and finally become +lost to sight in the darkness. By request +Harmon pulled his mouth-organ out of his trousers +pocket and played his entire programme. +The music cheered them up somewhat. Harmon +could certainly make the instrument +behave, as Pud phrased it! After that Pud +introduced the subject of pirates and, his +memory still fresh from his reading, told them +weird and blood-thirsty tales that made even +the narrator himself glance uneasily over his +shoulder at intervals. Oddly enough, Harmon +seemed utterly unaffected as to nerves. When +Pud paused, the darky, staring round-eyed +across the fire, begged for more. The more +sanguinary the tales the better Harmon liked +them, and when the cutlasses flew fastest and +blood filled the scuppers, he voiced awed applause +in murmured ‘Lawsies!’ or ‘My gollies!’ +It was plain to be seen that Harmon was a born +pirate! Indeed, it seemed regrettable that +Morgan had lived too early to have the services +of such a boon companion and kindred +soul as Harmon Johnson!</p> + +<p>‘When we-all goin’ start this here piratin’, +Mister Pud?’ he asked finally.</p> + +<p>‘Oh, maybe to-morrow,’ replied Pud, suppressing +a yawn.</p> + +<p>‘Uh-huh. Reckon we’s goin’ sack a town, +ain’ we?’</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_55"></a>[55]</span></p> + +<p>‘Well, we’ve got to find the town first,’ +chuckled Tim.</p> + +<p>‘Sure has,’ agreed Harmon cheerfully. ‘I +goin’ sharpen up ’at ol’ carvin’ knife to-morrow. +Yes, sir, I goin’ put a aidge on ’at ol’ knife for +sure! I ain’ needin’ no cutluss, Mister Tim, if I +got me a good knife!’ And Harmon swished an +imaginary blade in a startlingly realistic manner.</p> + +<p>‘Guess you’d better go to bed,’ growled Pud. +‘And if I catch you sharpening any knives +around here I’ll skin you!’</p> + +<p>Harmon accepted the rebuke meekly, although +he was possibly slightly puzzled by it, +and flashlights were snapped on and they +sought their couches. Tim wanted to light the +carbide lamp, but Pud said it would attract the +mosquitoes, and so they did without it. After +they were in bed and the two cots had ceased +creaking, Tim heard a chuckle from across the +darkness.</p> + +<p>‘What you laughing at?’ he inquired.</p> + +<p>‘Harmon,’ answered Pud. ‘Bet you that +boy’s good and scared, eh? Bet you he’s got +his head under the blanket all right!’</p> + +<p>Tim murmured assent. But a few minutes +later, Pud changed his mind. From the direction +of Harmon’s lowly couch came loud, measured, +and unmistakable evidences of slumber!</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_56"></a>[56]</span></p> + +<p>It might have been hours later or only minutes +that Pud awoke startledly. From close by +the tent a frightened voice was exclaiming, +‘Oh, my golly! Oh, my golly! Where at’s this +here door? Oh, my—’</p> + +<p>‘What’s the matter?’ cried Tim, flouncing +out of his cot.</p> + +<p>‘It’s Harmon!’ called Pud disgustedly. ‘He’s +had nightmare, I guess. Harmon! Shut up +that racket! Where are you?’</p> + +<p>‘Here I is! I can’ find the door! Oh, my +golly, Mister Pud, please, sir, you-all let me in +there!’ Then there was the sound of a stumbling +body, the tent sagged and strained and +Harmon fell in on his hands and knees, illumined +by two flashlights. That something +had frightened him half to death was plain, for +his eyes were rolling and his teeth were chattering +as he crawled to the nearest cot. ‘Oh, +lawsy, lawsy,’ he sighed in relief.</p> + +<p>‘Say, what’s your trouble?’ demanded Pud, +striving to quiet his own jangling nerves by +speaking very sternly. Tim, still half asleep, +waved his pocket torch vaguely about the tent, +his mouth open in bewilderment.</p> + +<p>‘Mister Pud,’ answered Harmon hoarsely, +‘it was a-standin’ right over me when I woke up +and seed it! Look like it was tryin’ to nuzzle +the blanket offen me! My golly—’</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_57"></a>[57]</span></p> + +<p>‘What was?’ asked Pud.</p> + +<p>‘Yes, sir! Standin’ right on top o’ me, with +its li’l’ ol’ eyes a-glarin’ sort o’ greenish an’ its +nose right close to my face! My golly! It was +jus’ a-goin’ to bite me when I woke up!’</p> + +<p>‘Say, for goodness’ sake! <em>What</em> was going to +bite you?’</p> + +<p>‘<em>It</em> was!’</p> + +<p>‘Well, what was <em>it</em>?’</p> + +<p>‘That there varmint, Mister Pud! What I’m +tellin’ you about! The skunk!’</p> + +<p>‘Skunk!’ echoed Pud and Tim in chorus. +‘<em>Skunk?</em>’</p> + +<p>‘Yes, sir, skunk! I seed the white stripes on +him when he done run!’</p> + +<p>‘Gee!’ chuckled Pud. ‘A skunk! Why, a +skunk wouldn’t hurt you, Harmon! I guess you +scared him a heap worse’n he scared you.’</p> + +<p>‘No, sir, I didn’! How-come he wouldn’ +harm me? Them things bite, Mister Pud!’</p> + +<p>‘Get out! Who ever heard of a skunk biting +any one?’</p> + +<p>‘Besides,’ laughed Tim, ‘maybe it wasn’t a +skunk at all. Maybe it was only a polecat.’</p> + +<p>But Harmon was in no mood for such niceties. +‘Was you ever bit by a skunk, Mister +Pud?’ he asked earnestly.</p> + +<p>‘No, of course not.’</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_58"></a>[58]</span></p> + +<p>‘Then how you know they don’ bite?’ demanded +Harmon triumphantly.</p> + +<p>‘Why—why—’ Pud felt that there was +something utterly wrong with the other’s logic, +but he couldn’t at the instant find the error, and +Harmon continued with much conviction.</p> + +<p>‘That skunk would ’a’ bit me for sure if I +hadn’ woke up! Please, can’ I sleep in here, +Mister Pud, with you-all? I’s scared to go back +out yonder.’</p> + +<p>‘Well,’ began Pud hesitantly, glancing dubiously +at Tim, ‘I suppose—’</p> + +<p>‘Sure, he can,’ asserted Tim, almost indignantly. +‘Have a heart, Pud!’</p> + +<p>Considering that it was Tim who had protested, +a few days before, against any such arrangement +as was now proposed, Pud felt that +he was being put in rather a false position, but +Harmon’s fervently expressed delight drowned +his sarcasm.</p> + +<p>‘I’s certainly obliged,’ declared the darky. +‘Yes, sir! I’ll jus’ scrooch down here an’—’</p> + +<p>‘Without anything to lie on?’ exclaimed Tim. +‘Sakes alive, Harmon, go get your blanket!’</p> + +<p>It was evident that Harmon had no desire to +venture forth again into the skunk-infested +night, but he finally went, flashing Tim’s +pocket torch on all sides and talking loudly to +keep his courage up.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_59"></a>[59]</span></p> + +<p>Ten minutes later quiet again reigned in the +tent. Pud, seeking a more comfortable position +on the unyielding canvas cot, smiled at a +thought. ‘That boy,’ he reflected, ‘might be +an awful brave pirate, but he wouldn’t make +much of an animal trainer!’</p> + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_60"></a>[60]</span></p> + +<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_V">CHAPTER V<br> +<small>THE CHICKEN THAT INTRUDED</small></h2> +</div> + + +<p>They had made the mistake of pitching the +tent where the morning sun had full play, and +long before either Pud or Tim wanted to get up, +the canvas walls were aglow, and it was only by +hiding their faces under the blankets that they +could keep the disturbing light from their eyes. +Shortly before seven they capitulated. Harmon +was already up and about. They could hear +him cracking branches and crooning a song behind +the tent. Outside, the grass was dew-spangled, +and, in spite of the ardent sun, the +air held a shivery quality that caused Tim to +hesitate before accepting Pud’s challenge to go +for a swim. But he did accept, and they found +the river far warmer than the air. By the time +they were dried and dressed, Harmon was calling +them to breakfast. For some moments a +particularly delectable aroma had been pervading +the tent, an aroma that suggested +neither coffee nor bacon, and when they +reached the fire the mystery was explained. In +the fry-pan lay, crisply browned, what their +astounded eyes could not mistake.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_61"></a>[61]</span></p> + +<p>‘Chicken!’ they exclaimed in delighted +chorus.</p> + +<p>Harmon showed his teeth in the broadest of +grins.</p> + +<p>‘But,’ faltered Pud, after a moment of delicious +contemplation, ‘where—where’d it come +from?’</p> + +<p>Harmon chuckled. ‘Who? This here chick’n? +Ain’ no tellin’ where he come from, Mister Pud. +He done walk right up and wink his eye at me, +an’ then he lay hisself right down in this here +pan an’ fol’ his wings!’</p> + +<p>‘Yes, he did!’ jeered Tim. ‘I suppose he +plucked his own feathers off, too!’</p> + +<p>‘Harmon,’ said Pud sternly, ‘you stole +it!’</p> + +<p>‘No, sir, I never,’ denied Harmon solemnly. +‘I jus’ pirated him!’</p> + +<p>‘Pirated him? Gee, that’s a new name for it! +Where’d you—where’d you “pirate” him?’</p> + +<p>‘Up yonder, beside the road. He certainly +was the runnin’est li’l rooster I ever seed! +Yes, sir, I reckon his mother must ’a’ been a +ostridge! I chase ’at li’l rascal—’</p> + +<p>‘You had no business to do it,’ charged Pud +severely. ‘Want to get us all arrested? My +goodness, that’s no way to do, Harmon!’</p> + +<p>‘How-come? Ain’ we pirates, Mister Pud? +Didn’ you say we-all was goin’ sack towns?<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_62"></a>[62]</span> +Didn’t you? How-come it’s all right to sack a +town an’ ain’ all right to sack a li’l’ skinny +rooster?’</p> + +<p>Pud looked to Tim for assistance, but Tim +was trying to keep his face straight, and he +avoided Pud’s eyes carefully. Harmon stared +in solemn perplexity from one to the other.</p> + +<p>Pud cleared his throat. ‘Well, now, it’s like +this, Harmon,’ he explained. ‘I’m leader of +this—this crew, and you ain’t supposed to +steal—sack anything, not even a chicken, +until I tell you to. Understand?’</p> + +<p>Harmon’s face cleared and he nodded vigorously.</p> + +<p>‘All right. Now—’ Pud looked longingly at +the contents of the fry-pan—‘Now,’ he went +on in a failing voice, ‘you’d better fry some +bacon. It—it wouldn’t be honest to eat that +chicken, would it, Tim?’</p> + +<p>Tim shook his head. It wasn’t a decided +shake, but it was the best he could do. Harmon +voiced incredulity.</p> + +<p>‘You mean you-all don’ want no chicken?’ +he ejaculated. ‘My golly! How-come you ain’ +wantin’ none?’</p> + +<p>‘Because we—because you stole it, Harmon,’ +answered Pud sadly. ‘It wouldn’t be right +to—’</p> + +<p>‘Why you keep on sayin’ I stole it? Ain’ I<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_63"></a>[63]</span> +done tell you I “pirate” it? Lawsey, how-come +you talk so silly?’</p> + +<p>‘Of course,’ observed Tim, his gaze set fixedly +on the charred tip of a chicken leg, ‘you +and I didn’t steal it, Pud. And it’s dead now, +and it seems sort of wasteful to throw it away. +Father says it’s sinful to waste things, Pud.’</p> + +<p>‘Yeah, I know,’ assented Pud. ‘Well, maybe +it wouldn’t be very wrong if we ate it, just so’s +not to let it go to waste. I guess—I guess our +consciences oughtn’t to trouble us if we did. +Of course, it’s different with Harmon. He +oughtn’t to have any because he came by it +dishonestly.’</p> + +<p>‘No,’ agreed Tim. ‘Still, if there was some +left for him, it wouldn’t be any affair of ours if +he ate it. It would be between him and his +conscience, I guess.’</p> + +<p>‘Yes, that’s so.’</p> + +<p>It was a wonderful chicken. Naturally, having +been such a remarkable runner, it was inclined +to be stringy and even a bit tough as to +its legs, but they had good appetites and they +were not restrained by ordinary table etiquette; +and the toughest chicken leg that ever ran +must yield its meat when you take it in both +hands! They gave Harmon a share, although, +of course, not the choice parts, and the darky +seemed to have settled affairs with his conscience<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_64"></a>[64]</span> +very satisfactorily. At least, he gave +every indication of enjoyment, and he did not, +as he perhaps deserved to, choke to death on a +bone!</p> + +<p>By nine o’clock they were afloat again, and +at half-past had left Bentonburg behind. The +river was not so hot as it had been yesterday +and voyaging was very pleasant. They chugged +between wide fields that swept upward and +away to tree-dotted horizons or to comfortable +farm buildings, white against the blue sky. +Harmon took his first lesson in steering and was +visibly thrilled as the boat responded to his +pressure on the little brass-bound wheel. In +the first enthusiasm he almost ran them +aground, and only Pud’s quick action saved +the day.</p> + +<p>Pud rummaged around until he had found a +pad of paper and five stamped and addressed +envelopes held together by an elastic band. +These had been supplied by his mother, with +the injunction to send a letter every day. Pud +had meant to send one yesterday, but he had +forgotten. Now he placed a sheet of the paper +on the lid of a box and, bidding Tim keep an +eye on the helmsman, wrote as follows:</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> + +<p class="noi smcap">Dear Mother and Father:<br></p> + +<p>We camped last night about two miles this side of +Farquhar’s Landing. Harmon is a fine cook. The<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_65"></a>[65]</span> +launch is doing finely. I guess we will make Livermore +to-day and camp near the bridge. The cake +was fine. We are all well and enjoying ourselfs. Tim +sends his respects.</p> + +<p class="noic">Your loving son,</p> + +<p class="right smcap">Pud<br></p> + +<p>P.S. If we have time we might call on Aunt Sabrina +like you said, but maybe we had ought to push +on.</p> +</div> + +<p>At noon they tied up alongside a tumble-down +pier and ate a cold lunch. Breakfast had +been hearty and sustaining, and it was decided +that what cooking they did had best be done at +the end of each day’s voyage. As only some +three miles lay between them and Livermore, +there seemed no good reason to hurry, and so +they lolled in the partial shade of the landing-pier +for an hour and then went into the water. +The glimpse of a fish sent Tim scurrying back +to the launch for his tackle. The can of worms +had, unfortunately, been overturned in such a +way as to release most of the contents, but +enough remained to bait three lines and for +nearly two hours they all sat on the edge of the +pier and sought to provide for the evening meal. +But the fish wouldn’t bite, and about four +o’clock they cast off and went on again.</p> + +<p>Livermore began a mile farther along with +an outlying sprinkle of small farms on the left<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_66"></a>[66]</span> +of the river. These gave place to little houses +set in tiny gardens and then to more ambitious +residences. They caught the yellow gleam of a +hurrying trolley car and heard its strident hum +as it charged at a grade and went lurching out +of sight behind the maples that lined the street. +Harmon watched with intense interest, trolley +cars being a novelty to him. A quarter of a +mile of brick mill buildings marched beside +them and the big steel bridge suddenly swept +into sight around a bend of the stream. The +river widened appreciably hereabouts and a +long, pebbly island, decked with a few forlorn +trees, divided the current. Pud, at the wheel +now, chose the right-hand channel, slowing +down the engine to a point where it coughed +incessantly, but survived the secret malady. +There was so much to see now—for Livermore +boasted of a population of seventeen thousand +and was a manufacturing town of some importance—that +the three boys almost stared +the eyes out of their heads. Harmon ejaculated +‘Lawsey!’ and ‘My golly’ at quite regular +intervals. One thing that became plain long +before the bridge was reached was that Pud’s +suggestion of camping thereabouts was not at +all practical. The only place they could have +pitched the tent would have been on some +wharf!</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_67"></a>[67]</span></p> + +<p>‘Guess we’ll have to go on by the town,’ said +Pud. ‘I didn’t know it was all built-up like +this!’</p> + +<p>‘Thought you said you’d been here,’ said +Tim.</p> + +<p>‘So I did and so I have.’</p> + +<p>‘Gosh, then I should think—’</p> + +<p>‘Well, it was quite a long time ago,’ explained +Pud; ‘when I was about eight or nine. +You see, Great-Aunt Sabrina lives over on the +other side of town, and we don’t usually get +around here. I guess it’s grown up a lot since I +was here!’</p> + +<p>‘Your aunt at home now?’ asked Tim, after +a moment.</p> + +<p>‘Yes, I suppose so. She don’t go about +much. She’s sort of old.’ He turned hard +aport to keep out of the way of a snorting +tugboat that backed suddenly out from behind +a pier.</p> + +<p>‘Well,’ began Tim, after another brief +silence.</p> + +<p>But Pud interrupted, pointing to a conspicuous +sign that adorned the end of a brick-red +shed just ahead.</p> + +<p>‘Say, I guess we’d ought to have some more +gasoline, eh?’ he asked. ‘We didn’t have but +thirty gallons when we started.’</p> + +<p>‘Well, gosh, I guess we ain’t used any thirty<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_68"></a>[68]</span> +gallons,’ demurred Tim. But Pud was already +negotiating the landing.</p> + +<p>‘You, Harmon, you get up here and fend off,’ +he ordered. ‘Keep her like that, Tim.’ He +went to the engine, anxiously watching the +pier bear down upon them, and finally pushed +the clutch forward. There was a fine churning +under the stern, and Harmon’s bare feet set +themselves against the stringpiece and the +<i>Jolly Rodger</i>, formerly the <i>Kismet</i>, sidled up to +her berth. If the gasoline station had been on +the other side of the river, the launch’s name +would have been the <i>Vengance</i>, of course.</p> + +<p>Investigation with a stick showed the gasoline +tank to be still rather more than three +quarters full, but since, by this time, the proprietor +of the station was peering inquiringly +down at them, Pud decided to purchase just +the same.</p> + +<p>‘<i>Jolly Rodger</i>, eh?’ said the man as he handed +the nozzle of the hose down to them. ‘What +are you, pirates?’</p> + +<p>Pud laughed evasively, but Harmon assented +proudly. ‘Yes, sir, we sure is! We’s bloody +pirates, Mister!’</p> + +<p>‘You look it!’ laughed the man. ‘Well, better +not let the police see you, that’s all I’ve got +to say! How much do you want?’</p> + +<p>Pud was very glad that he had yielded to Tim<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_69"></a>[69]</span> +that morning and consented to the removal +of the skull-and-cross-bones at the stern! Suppose +the police did see them and begin to ask +questions! Suppose the man who had owned +that chicken had sent word about its disappearance! +He was mightily relieved when the +gasoline was in and paid for, the cap screwed +back on the tank, and the launch was again +shoving her nose toward the bridge. His desire +now was to leave Livermore behind and +once more reach the open spaces. The others +seemed not to share his uneasiness. They were +craning their heads to see the bridge. Pud, +back at the wheel, didn’t have much time for +sight-seeing, for the river held much traffic and +he was kept busy. When they were directly +under the bridge, which seemed an immeasurable +height above them, but was probably no +more than thirty feet, a trolley car rumbled +across and Harmon’s upturned face went two +shades lighter. And when, at the same moment, +from close by a mill whistle proclaimed five +o’clock with a sudden and deafening shriek, +poor Harmon nearly turned white!</p> + +<p>‘<em>My golly!</em>’ he yelled. ‘<em>What’s ’at?</em>’</p> + +<p>Beyond the bridge and the press of river +traffic, Tim returned to a former subject of +conversation. ‘Say, Pud, why don’t you go and +see your aunt? I should think you’d want to.’</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_70"></a>[70]</span></p> + +<p>‘Huh? Oh, gee, she—she’s awful sort of +stern, Tim. I would go and see her only she +lives quite a ways back.’</p> + +<p>‘I guess she’d be pretty hurt if she found out +you’d been here and didn’t call on her,’ said +Tim.</p> + +<p>‘Well—’</p> + +<p>‘And I guess she’d be likely to ask you to +supper, wouldn’t she? I and Harmon wouldn’t +mind if you went, Pud.’</p> + +<p>‘Yes, she’d ask me to supper, of course, +but—’</p> + +<p>‘I guess you’d have a better supper than you +would if you had what we have, eh? Preserves, +probably, and cake.’</p> + +<p>‘Yes, she feeds a fellow great,’ acknowledged +Pud, a trifle wistfully. ‘But I wouldn’t +go and have supper with her and leave you and +Harmon—Say!’ Pud was struck by a thought +that had occurred to his chum long since. +‘Say, why don’t we all go?’</p> + +<p>‘Oh, well, maybe she wouldn’t like it if I and +Harmon were to butt in,’ replied Tim doubtfully. +‘She doesn’t know us.’</p> + +<p>‘Well, gee, you’re my friends, ain’t you? +Sure she’ll like it. And—and I’d like it a +sight better than going alone,’ added Pud. ‘I +wouldn’t wonder if she gave us cocoanut cake, +Tim. She makes corking cocoanut cake! Gee, +you just ought to taste it!’</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_71"></a>[71]</span></p> + +<p>‘We-ell, if you think it’ll be all right—’</p> + +<p>‘Of course it will! Gee, Aunt Sabrina’s a—a +little stern, and she sort of scares you if you +don’t know her, but she don’t believe in turning +folks away hungry; especially if they’re relatives—or +relatives’ friends. We’ll find a good +place to leave the launch and get a street car +that’ll take us out Moorehouse Avenue. It’s +only four or five blocks from the car line. Say, +how about shoving in over there?’</p> + +<p>Pud indicated an unoccupied berth between +two short piers across the river. A warehouse +loomed beyond it, its windows shuttered. Tim +looked and approved and Pud turned the +launch’s nose across the stream. When they +reached the place, it didn’t look so inviting, for +it was half out of water, exposing an evil-smelling +slope of black mud. But it seemed a safe +spot in which to leave the launch and their belongings, +since, as Tim pointed out, the only +way to reach it was to climb over a fence that +gave onto a narrow alley. So they made the +boat fast, stowed everything into the lockers +that would go there, covered the engine with a +piece of tarpaulin, and shinned up a spile to the +rickety wharf above. After that they climbed +the fence, followed the alley to its junction with +a cobbled street, and set forth in search of Aunt +Sabrina.</p> + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_72"></a>[72]</span></p> + +<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_VI">CHAPTER VI<br> +<small>AUNT SABRINA DOESN’T ANSWER</small></h2> +</div> + + +<p>It was nearly seven o’clock when they at last +reached their destination. This was because, +although they twice asked directions, they +never did find Moorehouse Avenue. Since, in +the course of their search, they kept on in a +general northerly direction, they eventually +came to Aunt Sabrina’s street, and there Pud +turned them back toward the river and so led +them to the house. During the journey the +sight of a letter-box reminded Pud that his +missive to his parents still reposed in his jacket +pocket, and he posted it.</p> + +<p>Aunt Sabrina Puddlestone’s residence occupied +an entire block of land in a part of +Livermore where, some thirty years before, it +had been the custom for families to set their big +houses in the middle of a block, and feel, even +then, just a bit crowded. Now, since the town +had grown in other directions, many of these +old residences still stood unchallenged in the +midst of their wide lawns, although frequently +the houses themselves were down-at-the-heels. +Aunt Sabrina’s house, though, showed no signs<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_73"></a>[73]</span> +of disrepair. It was large and square, two +stories in height, with a little square box set +atop, as though the builder had wondered how +a third story would look and had set it there to +give him an idea. The little box was called ‘The +Tower’ and was a mass of narrow windows on +all sides. There was something extremely, +almost depressingly, respectable about the +Puddlestone mansion. It was so uncompromisingly +angular and unadorned and white, and the +big downstair windows were so immaculate +in their heavy white curtains, and the front +door, with its fan-light and side-lights, looked +down across the front lawn with such a suspicious +air that—well, Tim, viewing it for the +first time, regretted having originated the idea +of the visit.</p> + +<p>A drive led from the street to the doorway +and then curved back to the street again. Beside +the carriage-way ran a narrow brick path +for those afoot. Two stone urns, just a wee bit +out of plumb, and a carriage-block adorned the +grass before the house. Huge maples and oaks +partly hid the old mansion, and at the back +there was a veritable plantation of trees and +shrubs, so overgrown and crowded that the +late sunlight scarcely filtered through. Back +there, too, near the house, was a long line of +one-story structures; a stable, at one end, and<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_74"></a>[74]</span> +then a carriage-house, and then an open woodshed, +and then a poultry-house.</p> + +<p>As the three boys started up the gently ascending, +curving walk to the front door, the +westing sun sent long shafts of orange light +through the maples and oaks and flashed ruddily +against a corner window. But the shadows +were black and there was a somber stillness +about the place that impressed at least one of +the visitors unpleasantly. Pud appeared to be +unaffected and chattered without pause all the +way to the entrance, pointing out this feature +and that and recalling past adventures. Coincident +with their arrival at the door, there came +a long roll of distant thunder. In the west the +sun was descending into a bank of sullen purple +clouds, while northward a sudden flare of +lightning showed.</p> + +<p>‘Guess we’re going to be lucky to have a roof +over us to-night,’ said Pud. ‘There’s a peach of +a storm coming up.’</p> + +<p>He raised the old iron knocker and beat a +startling <em>rat-a-tat</em> in the silence. Presently, as +nothing happened, he knocked again. Subsequently, +while the thunder pealed once more, +he pulled energetically at a crockery bell-knob. +Far away, within the house, they heard a bell +jangle. But nobody answered. Pud muttered +disgustedly and almost yanked the bell-knob<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_75"></a>[75]</span> +out by the roots, but still there were no results.</p> + +<p>‘Reckon folks ain’ to home,’ observed Harmon.</p> + +<p>‘<em>Somebody’s</em> here,’ said Pud impatiently. +‘Gee, Aunt Sabrina <em>never</em> goes anywhere. It’s +funny, though. Let’s try the back.’</p> + +<p>So they trooped around the corner and along +the farther side, through a shadowed nave +formed by two rows of lilacs and syringas, to +the back door. It was even more still and eerie +here, and when Harmon, slapping a mosquito +on a bare leg, said ‘Ha!’ in sudden triumph, the +others jumped nervously. There was a square +porch at the back, latticed on three sides and +screened inside the lattice with mosquito wire. +The stout door was closed tightly and locked. +There was no bell in sight and so Pud pounded +lustily and shouted ‘Aunt Sabrina!’ several +times. After waiting a few minutes, they returned +to the front of the house, Pud nonplussed, +but still insisting that somebody must +be at home.</p> + +<p>‘Maybe,’ suggested Tim, ‘your aunt’s kind of +deaf.’</p> + +<p>‘She isn’t,’ said Pud shortly. ‘Anyway, the +girl ought to hear. <em>Some one</em> ought to hear! +Gee, you’d think they were all dead!’</p> + +<p>‘Reckon they is,’ remarked Harmon cheerfully.<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_76"></a>[76]</span> +‘Reckon some one done been here and +pirated ’em.’</p> + +<p>‘Shut up,’ said Pud impatiently. ‘If you +can’t talk sense, keep still. You fellows wait +here and I’ll go over to the next house and ask +the lady about it.’</p> + +<p>‘Well, I don’t know,’ answered Tim slowly. +‘Maybe we’d better not bother. If we started +right away and got a car, I guess we’d get back +to the boat before it rained very hard.’</p> + +<p>‘Ain’ we goin’ eat?’ asked Harmon anxiously.</p> + +<p>‘Yes,’ said Pud decidedly. ‘And we’re going +to eat right here. Gee, I don’t want to spend +the night in that launch if it’s going to rain. +And it’s too late to find a place to put the tent +up.’ A crash of thunder that shook the ground +under them brought a gasp of alarm from Tim. +‘You wait!’ shouted Pud, and set off at top +speed across the lawn.</p> + +<p>The sunlight was gone now and a coppery +light filled the world. Overhead dun-colored +clouds raced fast, but in the north a great bank +of grayish-purple piled higher and higher. A +big drop fell on Tim’s hand. Then another +splashed on the step. Tim wished very much +that he was back home in Millville.</p> + +<p>Harmon, viewing the impassive front of the +big house solemnly, asked helpfully: ‘Mister +Tim, you reckon this here house is hanted?’</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_77"></a>[77]</span></p> + +<p>‘Yes, I do,’ answered Tim emphatically. ‘I’ll +bet it’s full of hants and ghosts and—and +everything! And I wish to goodness we’d never +come here! I don’t believe Pud’s got any aunt, +and, if he has, I hope she chokes!’</p> + +<p>‘Must be awful deaf ol’ lady,’ mused Harmon.</p> + +<p>The rain, after those few drops, had decided +to hold off awhile, it appeared. There was no +stirring now. It was as if the world held its +breath, expectant, waiting. Another terrific +crash of thunder pealed across the heavens, +nearer now, louder, more appalling. Tim +grasped Harmon’s arm tightly.</p> + +<p>‘Gosh!’ he muttered. ‘I—I ain’ goin’ to +stay here! I’m—’</p> + +<p>At that moment Pud came into sight again. +He wasn’t running now. In fact, he wasn’t even +walking briskly. His hands were in his pockets +and his whole appearance indicated dejection.</p> + +<p>‘Gone away,’ he called dismally when he was +within hearing distance. ‘She left this morning +for Mumford and won’t be back till to-morrow +afternoon. She’s gone to a funeral. And the +girl’s gone with her. I guess we’re out of luck!’</p> + +<p>‘Sure is,’ assented Harmon.</p> + +<p>‘Well, I guess we are!’ exclaimed Tim violently. +‘Why don’t your old aunt stay at home +sometimes? Gosh, look at the fix we’re in! It’s +going to rain like anything in a minute and we’re<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_78"></a>[78]</span> +three or four miles from the boat and you don’t +even know where the car line is and—’</p> + +<p>‘I do, too! It’s just four or five blocks over +there.’</p> + +<p>‘Well, then why don’t you say so? Want to +stay here and get struck by lightning? Or +drowned? Come on, can’t you, for goodness’ +sake! If I had an aunt—’</p> + +<p>That is as far as Tim’s eloquence carried him, +for at that instant the sky opened and the +deluge descended. With one accord they raced +up the steps, assisted in their flight by a roar of +thunder and a blinding flash of lightning, and +cowered, half-stunned, under the narrow hood +above the doorway.</p> + +<p>‘<em>Gee!</em>’ muttered Pud. Tim was beyond +words. Harmon, his eyes showing very round, +giggled.</p> + +<p>‘Ol’ Mister Thun’er sure speak right out +loud that time! Whoo—ee!’</p> + +<p>In front of them was a hissing, drumming +wall of water that shut off the world as completely +as though a silver-gray curtain had been +suddenly lowered. The shelf-like projection +above provided but scant shelter from the +downpour and they were all getting wet very +fast. The thunder slam-banged again and the +gray world blazed with light. As the echo of +the thunder died away, there came a sharp,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_79"></a>[79]</span> +triumphant cry from Pud, and the next instant +he was down on his knees in the torrent, poking +about at the foot of the steps. Then he was +back again, gasping, laughing, shaking the water +from his face, with a big iron key in one hand!</p> + +<p>‘Just remembered!’ he shouted above the +seethe and hiss of the rain. ‘She always hides +it there! Funny I didn’t think of it sooner!’ +As he spoke, he fitted the key in the lock, there +was a creaking sound, and the door fell open +before them.</p> + +<p>Pud stamped water from his clothes, tossed +his reeking hat to a table, and closed the big +door again. ‘There!’ he cried triumphantly. +‘How’s this?’ Then, partly from reaction, he +fell to laughing loudly, awakening strange +echoes in the big, dim hallway. ‘Gee, wouldn’t +Aunt Sabrina be mad if she knew? I can see her +face right now!’</p> + +<p>Tim started nervously and looked behind +him, but there was no Aunt Sabrina in sight; +only the dark portals and the blacker well of +the broad stairway. He wiped his drenched face +and neck with an already damp handkerchief +and gave vent to his feelings. ‘Of all the +blamed idiots!’ he sputtered. ‘Keeping us +standing out there in that rain when the door-key +was right there all the time! I’m soaking +wet right to the skin and I’ll probably catch<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_80"></a>[80]</span> +cold, and it’s all your fault! If you had any +sense—’</p> + +<p>A salvo of thunder, and the hallway was +ablaze with vivid white light! Tim stood rooted +with terror, his mouth still open, but no words +coming! As silence fell again, both he and Pud +started and stared in alarm toward the doorway +at the back. From beyond it came faint +but unmistakable sounds; footsteps, a clatter +of metal! Tim turned a glance along the dim +hallway toward the front door and had already +made one hurried step in its direction, when +Pud laughed with nervous relief.</p> + +<p>‘Harmon,’ he said.</p> + +<p>Sure enough, Harmon was no longer with +them! Together they made their way toward +the sounds, through the darkened dining-room +and the dimmer pantry to the kitchen. Harmon +was in the act of setting fire to the paper +and kindlings he had stuffed into the big stove. +He looked up as they entered and grinned +serenely.</p> + +<p>‘Goin’ have us a fire in ’bout two shakes, +Mister Pud, so’s we can get us dry.’</p> + +<p>‘Great!’ approved Pud, and found the gas +bracket and sent a flood of illumination over +the big room.</p> + +<p>Somehow, the light and the sound of the +crackling flames seemed to make everything<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_81"></a>[81]</span> +all right at once. Tim forgot his peevishness +and wriggled out of his jacket, and Harmon, +having moved a folding clothes-dryer to the +end of the stove, spread the garment out on it. +Pud was on the porch now, peering into the big +refrigerator. Harmon added more wood to the +fire and then carefully applied lumps of coal. A +gentle warmth was already perceptible. Tim’s +frowns smoothed out and he smiled contentedly +as he rubbed damp hands together. Pud came +back with the results of his foray and set them +on the table; a carton of eggs, a shoulder of +boiled ham, butter, a sauce-dish of stewed +tomatoes, and a jar of milk not quite full. Tim +cheered so loudly that a jarring peal of thunder +made almost no impression on him!</p> + +<p>In fact, after that they almost forgot the +storm entirely. Here was warmth and light and +food; slathers of food, for Pud had invaded the +pantry and produced, as if by magic, bread and +jelly and cup-cakes and a jar of preserved ginger. +With the viands assembled, and Harmon +fairly crooning over them, he armed himself +with a lamp and made his way up the big staircase +into the silent, mysterious regions above. +To tell the truth, he didn’t like that excursion +much, but he made it just the same—rather +hurriedly—and returned with three blankets. +Then they all disrobed and hung their wet<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_82"></a>[82]</span> +clothes before the fire, which was now going at +a great rate, and drew the blankets about them. +After that it was up to Harmon. Pud and Tim +drew chairs as near the stove as they might +without interfering with the cook and sat back +in blissful ease and pleasant anticipation.</p> + +<p>The sight of Harmon trying to fry eggs and +hold his blanket about him at one and the same +time sent them into convulsions of laughter, +and Harmon, joining in, danced around the +kitchen with a tin spoon waving about his +head. The acme of mirth was reached when +Pud imagined Aunt Sabrina entering at the +moment!</p> + +<p>What a dinner that was! Or, rather, let us +say what a banquet, for no mere ordinary dinner +ever provided such a variety of dishes! They +had two kinds of ham; fried ham until it gave +out and then cold ham; eggs—two apiece; +stewed tomatoes; bread and butter; coffee—that +was Harmon’s brilliant thought; milk +while it lasted; cup-cakes; sweet crackers; currant +jelly; preserved ginger—which Harmon +tried and disapproved of; and many of Aunt +Sabrina’s early sugar-pears, these latter discovered +by Pud on the dining-room sideboard. +But even that array was none too great for +three such appetites, and when they had finished +the top of the kitchen table was almost<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_83"></a>[83]</span> +as bare of crumbs as it had been an hour +before!</p> + +<p>They took counsel then. The storm had +abated, but it was still raining busily and with +no sign of cessation. The thought of returning +through the rain to that drenched and comfortless +launch held no allure. Here there was +warmth and shelter; beds if they dared take +possession of them. Tim’s courage failed at the +idea of climbing into one of Aunt Sabrina’s +immaculate four-posters, but Pud was for being +hung for a sheep instead of a lamb. As for +Harmon, busily washing up, his advice was not +asked. Yet, in the end, it was Harmon who +decided the question of going or staying.</p> + +<p>‘These here clo’es ain’ goin’ be dry ’fore +mornin’,’ he declared. ‘Reckon we jus’ have +to sit aroun’ an’ wait till they is.’</p> + +<p>Whereupon, remembering he was a pirate, +Pud seized the lamp again and strode toward +the hall. ‘Come on,’ he commanded. ‘Let’s +find out where we sleep!’</p> + +<p>Dutifully, but doubting his wisdom, Tim +followed.</p> + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_84"></a>[84]</span></p> + +<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_VII">CHAPTER VII<br> +<small>THE PRISONER IN THE TOWER</small></h2> +</div> + + +<p>Pud and Tim shared a big four-poster bed in +the room always occupied by the former when, +once a year, he accompanied his parents to +Great-Aunt Sabrina’s. This was at the back of +the house, to the left, the smallest of the rooms +on the second floor. Opposite, across the broad +hall that ran from front to back, was a huge +bathroom, containing an old-fashioned zinc +tub boxed in walnut paneling, and cutting off a +corner of it was a stairway leading down to the +kitchen. Harmon was given a bed made of two +thick comforters from the maid’s room, doubled +lengthwise and laid on the floor. A single +blanket answered for covering.</p> + +<p>As the day had been, on the whole, fairly +strenuous, all hands were fast asleep before ten. +Pud, though, didn’t slumber very peacefully. +He had overindulged in the preserved ginger, I +think. At all events, while Tim, having once +fallen asleep, scarcely moved, Pud thrashed +about a good deal and awoke more than once to +the sound of Harmon’s gurgling respirations +and the gentle, persistent patter of the rain outside. +They had left the door open, such being<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_85"></a>[85]</span> +their custom when at home, and it was when +Pud had returned to full consciousness for the +second or, possibly, third time that he heard a +sound that could be attributed neither to Harmon +nor the rain.</p> + +<p>The sound came from somewhere below and +suggested to the curious listener the opening of +a stubborn drawer containing some metallic +contents that rattled together. His first thought +was, of course, that Aunt Sabrina had returned +home, and the thought was accompanied by an +unpleasant sinking sensation. It also had the +effect of bringing him very wide awake. For a +minute he lay in bed and considered a course of +action. It might be that, if he did nothing at +all, his presence, and that of his companions, +would remain unsuspected until morning. On +the other hand, it was more probable that Aunt +Sabrina’s sharp eyes would see that things were +not just as she had left them, or that the maid +would miss the comforters and blanket and institute +a search for them. On the whole, as little +as the plan appealed to him, Pud decided finally +that right now was the time to appear and +explain. Of course, Aunt Sabrina would look +very fearsome and probably have quite a lot +to say about boys with wet feet dirtying up her +floors and helping themselves to her victuals +and—</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_86"></a>[86]</span></p> + +<p>Right there Pud sat up in bed very suddenly, +staring amazedly into the gray darkness. Why, +it couldn’t be Aunt Sabrina! It just <em>couldn’t</em> be +Aunt Sabrina for the simple reason that he had +locked the front door on the inside and the big +iron key still remained where he had turned it! +And without the key, how could Aunt Sabrina +have got in? He simply couldn’t imagine either +Lydia, the middle-aged maid and companion, or +Aunt Sabrina forcing a window and climbing +over the ledge! But if it wasn’t Aunt Sabrina +stirring quietly about downstairs, who could it +be?</p> + +<p>His heart beat faster while he strained his +ears. For a long moment he heard nothing, +and he was just about to tell himself with vast +relief that he had imagined the previous sounds +when they came again. Resisting the impulse +to awaken Tim, he crept out of the big bed and +made his way noiselessly to the door. From +below, seemingly from the dining-room, came +the tinkle of metal and the creak of a board.</p> + +<p>‘<em>Robbers!</em>’ thought Pud.</p> + +<p>His first impulse was to return and awaken +Tim and Harmon, his second to make certain +that he was right. He would look an awful fool +if he waked the others up and then discovered +that the suspicious sounds had been made by—well, +some perfectly innocent thing such as a<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_87"></a>[87]</span> +cat! After a moment of hesitation he emerged +into the hall. The stairway was a long distance, +but he reached the railing finally and, guiding +himself by it, crept on until he could crane his +head over it and bring the dining-room door +into his field of vision. The stairs and the hall +below were dark, but beyond the open door of +the dining-room there was light. It was a very +weak light and Pud guessed that it came from +a small electric torch. While he gazed it vanished +entirely. Then it reappeared, stronger +this time, as though it was focused closer to the +door into the hall. There was a shuffling, dragging +sound and the faint clink of metal once +more, as though muffled by cloth. Then, with +startling effect on the watcher, the light fell +on the edge of the doorway and traveled past +into the hall, illumining it with faint, white +radiance.</p> + +<p>Pud retreated swiftly to the room. There, a +hand on the doorknob, he thought hard. What +was going on downstairs was quite plain to +him. Some one was stealing Aunt Sabrina’s +silver! Aunt Sabrina thought a good deal of +her silver, for much of it had belonged in her +family for several generations, and she would, +Pud knew, be terribly grieved if she lost it. +Therefore she mustn’t lose it. Some way he +must circumvent the robber. The telephone,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_88"></a>[88]</span> +an old-style wall affair, was in the lower hall and +not two yards from the dining-room. Plainly +that offered no solution. Pud considered a +sortie in force, but he remembered that burglars +carried weapons. Even if they managed +to frighten the burglar, he would probably take +his booty with him. Further planning was interrupted +by the soft sound of feet on the stairs, +and Pud retired inside his door and watched +breathlessly through a half-inch crack.</p> + +<p>The intruder mounted the stairs unhurriedly, +with only an occasional inquiring flash of the +diminutive torch. He made very little noise, +but, on the other hand, did not seem particularly +fearful of being heard. In short, he gave +Pud the impression of one not in the least concerned +with the possible presence of other persons +in the house, and so, Pud reasoned, he had +learned of Aunt Sabrina’s absence and was proceeding +under the assumption that he was perfectly +safe and could take all the time he wanted. +At the head of the stairs, he swept the light +about him, keeping, as always, the rays close to +the floor, and in that instant Pud, peering +through the narrow aperture in the door, saw +him for the first time.</p> + +<p>To be more exact, what Pud saw was the silhouette +of a man’s form, a form apparently +rather small and slim and not nearly so formidable<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_89"></a>[89]</span> +as imagination had pictured it. Then +the light went out again and the form melted +into the darkness. Light footsteps trod the +carpet and a door squeaked faintly. The +burglar had gone into Aunt Sabrina’s room, on +the front of the house. Pud didn’t believe the +fellow would find much of value in there, and +evidently he didn’t, for he was out again very +soon, his coming indicated by another quick +flare of the torch. Across the hall was an empty +chamber, known as the ‘best room.’ That +held the burglar’s attention even a shorter +time, and from there he came back, past the +head of the stairway and disappeared into the +maid’s room.</p> + +<p>Meanwhile Pud was thinking up plans and +discarding them rapidly; to lock the door and +somehow get to the ground from the window +and alarm the neighbors; to shout for help from +the same window; to get downstairs by the +back passage, the door to which was almost opposite, +take possession of the burglar’s loot and +make off with it before the latter could follow. +But none of these schemes promised well. Behind +him was the peaceful sound of Tim’s +breathing and the louder respirations of Harmon. +Pud had time for a brief thought of their +surprise when they awoke and learned of what +had been happening; and then he hoped hard<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_90"></a>[90]</span> +that they wouldn’t awake just yet, for the +least sound from them would, if heard by the +midnight visitor, either send that person scuttling +away with his booty or—well, Pud didn’t +like to dwell on the alternative. Burglars, he +believed, were dreadfully fond of shooting +holes in persons who interfered with their +plans! But Pud had assured himself that the +key was on the inside of the lock and he was +rather certain that he could get that door +closed and that key turned in mighty quick +time when the right moment came.</p> + +<p>Across the hall from the maid’s room and +directly opposite was the door giving onto the +stairway that led to The Tower. Next to it was +the door of a second spare room. Then, toward +the back of the house, were the bathroom +door, wide open at present, and, next, the door +to the kitchen stairway, closed. It was fair to +assume that the burglar meant to make a thorough +inspection of the premises, and that +sooner or later, probably last of all, he would +want to know what was in the room behind +whose door Pud stood on guard. When that +happened—well, Pud didn’t know just what +he would do then, but meanwhile he had thought +of a plan!</p> + +<p>Its success depended on two things; whether +the burglar proved curious enough to want to<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_91"></a>[91]</span> +know what lay at the top of The Tower stairway +and whether the key of the stairway door +was on the inside or out. That there was a key +Pud knew for a fact. His heart beat a little +faster as the light showed once more for an +instant and the burglar, having made a thorough +and, Pud hoped, profitless search of +Lydia’s room, emerged again into the hall. +Then the light traveled along the stairway +spindles, swept the edge of the carpet and crept +upward along the white panels of The Tower +door. And then it went out, but not before +Pud had seen, with intense satisfaction, the key!</p> + +<p>In the succeeding darkness there came the +soft, padding sound of the man’s feet on the +carpet and then the faint click of the latch. +Again the light flared. The burglar was in the +open doorway and the rays of the torch were +exploring the stairs that led upward. A long +moment passed. Then darkness fell once more +and Pud’s heart sank. His plan had failed! He +waited for the sound of the man’s steps again, +but there was only silence out there. Uneasily, +Pud’s hand tightened on the knob and +he stood prepared to close and lock the door. +But at that moment a sound came to him that +brought a thrill of renewed hope, the sound of a +stumbling step on the bare stairs! Momentarily +The Tower doorway showed lighter<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_92"></a>[92]</span> +against the gloom of the hall and Pud widened +the aperture of his own door and craned his +head out. Now he could hear unmistakably +the creaking of the burglar’s feet on The Tower +stairs. Pud crept out into the darkness. Once +more there was a dim light across the way. The +man had reached the little landing and was +making the turn.</p> + +<p>Pud took a long, deep breath and crept down +the hall toward The Tower door. He reached +it, pulled it slowly toward him. From above +came the complaining of the stair treads, then +silence. Pud could imagine the man’s disgust +as he swept his light over the square emptiness +of that chamber, and something very close to a +chuckle mingled with the click of the latch as it +slipped into place. Swiftly then Pud’s fingers +flew to the key. Perhaps it had been unused so +long that it had forgotten how to turn, for it +resisted his efforts stubbornly. He put all his +strength against it unavailingly, and his heart +sank. Beyond the door were faint creakings. +The burglar was coming back down the stairs! +Caution urged Pud to flight, but he was stubborn, +too, and, getting a new grasp on the key +and putting the fingers of his left hand about +the knuckles of his right, he made a final and +desperate effort. There was a loud protest from +the unwilling key, but it turned!</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_93"></a>[93]</span></p> + +<p>Then Pud ran!</p> + +<p>Back at the door of his own room he paused +and listened. There was no sound for a long +moment save the thumping of his own heart. +Then the knob of The Tower door was gently +turned. A second silence. Then there was a +straining, creaking noise as the imprisoned man +put his weight against the door. But Aunt +Sabrina’s house had been built in the days when +doors were made strong and thick and heavy, +and for the time, at least, Pud had no fear of +its yielding. With a bound, Pud was pulling the +blanket from Tim and prodding him into wakefulness, +and after that many things happened +with confusing rapidity.</p> + +<p>Lights flared upstairs and down. Pud spoke +breathlessly to a sleepy telephone operator and, +after what seemed an interminable time, to a +gruff-voiced police sergeant. Tim and Harmon, +close to The Tower door, talked to each other +in deep, bass voices designed to impress the +burglar with the fact that his escape in that +direction was barred by at least two resolute +men. As Pud left the telephone to light the +gas in the dining-room and rescue Aunt Sabrina’s +silver, he heard Harmon saying in loud +tones that seemed to come from his boots—or +that would have come from his boots had he +worn any: ‘I’s sure cravin’ to use this here ol’<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_94"></a>[94]</span> +resolver, Mister Daley. I ain’ had me a chance +to shoot it off for a long time!’ And then came +Tim’s voice, deep and husky: ‘And I’d certainly +like to use this automatic of mine, Mister +Johnson!’</p> + +<p>Pud found what he expected to find, a burlap +bag filled with Aunt Sabrina’s smaller silver +and about all the larger pieces. Some of the +latter had not been molested, and these, as Pud +guessed, were only silver-plated. The locked +drawers of the big, old-fashioned mahogany +sideboard had been forced, and Pud reflected +that for the burglar’s sake he hoped the latter +would not be around when Aunt Sabrina viewed +the chipped and cracked edges of the wood! To +be on the safe side, he dragged the bag to a +closet and turned the key on it. Then he ran +upstairs again and relieved Tim while the latter +donned the rest of his clothes. They were all +fully dressed by the time the police arrived, and +Pud admitted them somewhat impressively +through the front door, while Tim and Harmon +leaned over the upstairs balusters and stared +down enthralled.</p> + +<p>That the burglar had attempted to descend +from his prison by the roof was evident later +from the fact that one of The Tower windows +was found open. Probably his courage had +failed him as soon as he had set foot on the<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_95"></a>[95]</span> +slippery, rain-filmed shingles and he had decided +to face trial rather than risk a broken +neck. At all events, when they opened The +Tower door and went cautiously up, four burly +officers with drawn revolvers, there he sat on +the top step, a rather hungry-looking, undersized +little rat of a man, calmly awaiting them.</p> + +<p>‘Ho,’ said the officer in command of the +force, ‘it’s only “Slim” Towle! Come on down, +Slim, and we’ll give you a ride.’</p> + +<p>So Slim came down docilely, looking in fact, +or so Pud thought, rather relieved, and one of +the men went through his pockets very carefully +and took out quite a number of interesting +articles including a black-jack, a small nickeled +pocket torch, and one or two other personal +articles—but no revolver!—and a large collection +of small trinkets picked up during his +visit. There was, for instance, Aunt Sabrina’s +gold locket that held a strand of braided brown +hair, a tortoise-shell comb, a silver-and-pearl +paper-cutter, Lydia’s bar-pin set with imitation +emeralds, a gold hairpin, a fine gold chain, +and a single silver cuff-link. All of which articles, +announced the police, would have to be +taken to Headquarters and there claimed by +their owners. Then ‘Slim’ Towle, looking a bit +bored and rather weary, went down the stairs +between two of the officers and out the front<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_96"></a>[96]</span> +door. The officer in charge of operations—a +lieutenant, Pud thought—viewed the burlap +bag and its contents, nodded and said:</p> + +<p>‘Had a pretty good haul there. Well, if folks +will leave their silver lying around loose, they’ll +lose it sooner or later.’ Then he turned suddenly +and viewed the three lads with stern +gaze. ‘Now,’ he asked disconcertingly, ‘who +are you and what are you doing here?’</p> + +<p>Pud had to make rather a long story of it, +but in the end the officer went off without arresting +any of them for complicity in the crime +and they watched him climb into the patrol +wagon with vast relief. By that time the eastern +sky was graying and the rain, having subsided +first to a drizzle, had ceased entirely. +Harmon lighted a fire in the stove again and +prepared breakfast from what remained in the +larder while Pud and Tim returned upstairs +and, as best they could, tidied up. Tim was inclined +to be a bit disgruntled and peevish because +Pud had not awakened him sooner and +allowed him to share in the excitement from the +first, but Pud explained and excused until Tim +grudgingly forgave him. Harmon’s skill as a +cook was not so apparent this morning, since +recent events had left him in a highly excited +state, but they made out a satisfactory breakfast +of coffee, eggs, and toast. Pud closed the<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_97"></a>[97]</span> +outside blinds across the window in the dining-room +at which ‘Slim’ Towle had made his entrance +by removing a pane of glass, and finally +announced that he was ready to leave. But at +the last instant he bethought him of something +and reëntered the house, to be gone several +minutes. During his absence he wrote a note to +Aunt Sabrina and left it leaning against the +coffee-urn on the sideboard where she could not +fail to find it. The note was as follows:</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> + +<p class="noi smcap">Dear Aunt:<br></p> + +<p>We came to see you, but you were not home so we +stayed because it was raining and lightning. We +slept in the back room and did not hurt anything I +hope, and we took some food as we were very hungry. +I caught the burglar, and everything he was +going to take is in the bag in the closet except some +jewelry of yours and Lydia, and the policeman said +you would have to go to the police station and claim +it. We had a very enjoyable visit, but were sorry +not to see you. Good-bye.</p> + +<p class="noic">Your affectionate nephew,</p> + +<p class="right smcap">Anson Puddlestone Pringle, Jr.<br></p> +</div> + +<p>Then Pud locked the front door and hid the +key under the lowest step and, with Tim at his +side and Harmon padding along behind, set +forth under the first weak rays of the sun to +find the Moorehouse Avenue car line.</p> + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_98"></a>[98]</span></p> + +<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_VIII">CHAPTER VIII<br> +<small>THE RESCUE</small></h2> +</div> + + +<p>The return to the launch was uneventful. They +had the car to themselves most of the way, and +Tim dozed off in a corner. Pud lost his bearings +after they had reached the center of town +and so they were carried four blocks farther +than they should have gone and had a long, wet +and dismal trudge to the river and made two +failures before they found the right alley. The +<i>Vengance</i> was extremely wet and soggy when +they reached her. The potatoes had wandered +all around, the rain had leaked into several of +the lockers, and a <em>swish-swashing</em> sound under +the floor informed them that there was much +bailing to be done. With the passing of the +early morning excitement, reaction had set in +and every one’s spirits were low. Tim complained +that he had not had sufficient sleep and +even Harmon seemed more solemn than usual. +One thing, though, they were agreed on, which +was that they had had quite enough of Livermore!</p> + +<p>But there the engine failed to agree with +them. Pud turned the fly-wheel until he was<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_99"></a>[99]</span> +red-faced and breathless, and then Tim tried it. +Then Pud peered into the gasoline tank and +fiddled with every movable part of the engine. +After that he thought of priming the cylinders, +but that didn’t produce the desired result. +Half an hour passed and the sun came up over +the roofs of the town and deepened the flush on +Pud’s countenance. At intervals Pud arose and +turned the wheel over. At intervals he sank +back on the seat in exhaustion. At intervals +Tim performed a similar routine. Once, very +early in the proceedings, the engine had emitted +a faint but heartening cough. Since then it had +not even sneezed.</p> + +<p>Tim offered many well-meant suggestions +and theories, but Pud received them all coldly. +Between spells at the fly-wheel he viewed the +engine in deep disgust, a disgust that was just +short of loathing, and said a great many unkind +things about it. Toward the last he included +Andy Tremble in his remarks. Of the three +aboard, Harmon alone retained his equanimity. +As his companions became more and more depressed, +Harmon’s spirits visibly lightened. +When, though, he sought to give expression to +his cheerfulness by playing soft melodies on +his mouth-organ, Pud turned on him wrathfully +and threatened to ‘pitch that thing in the +river’ if he didn’t quit!</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_100"></a>[100]</span></p> + +<p>‘All you do is sit there and chuckle,’ accused +Pud. ‘<em>You</em> don’t break your back on this old +wheel! <em>You</em> don’t blister your hands! You +just—just sit there and think it’s funny! My +goodness, I should think you’d be ashamed!’</p> + +<p>‘Jus’ you-all let me turn it,’ said Harmon +eagerly.</p> + +<p>‘Yes,’ said Tim, ‘let him try it, Pud.’</p> + +<p>‘No, sir! He don’t know how. He’d probably +break his wrist or something.’</p> + +<p>‘No, sir, Mister Pud, I won’t. I done seen +how you-all does it. Jus’ you let me—’</p> + +<p>‘Well, all right,’ agreed Pud grudgingly. +‘But you have to take hold of the handle like +this. See? And then pull it out when you’ve +turned it over, because if you don’t it might +fly back on you and break your arm. Now you +be careful, Harmon.’</p> + +<p>‘Sure will!’ Harmon heaved upward—</p> + +<p>Then he sat down suddenly on the floor, the +handle flew against the locker and—the engine +started!</p> + +<p>‘Are you hurt?’ cried Tim anxiously.</p> + +<p>Harmon felt of himself gingerly. Then he +shook his head in solemn negation.</p> + +<p>‘No, sir, I ain’ hurt, but how-come it ac’ so +short with me, Mister Tim?’</p> + +<p>It was Tim’s turn to laugh then, and Pud’s, +and they seized it. Harmon viewed them with<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_101"></a>[101]</span> +funereal reproach and picked himself up. +Pride asserted itself. ‘Ain’ any ol’ engine can +hol’ out agains’ me,’ he declared as he went +dignifiedly back to the stern.</p> + +<p>The early start brought them to Berryville +before nine, and an hour later they steered +the launch up to a shaded bank and went in +swimming. It was the hottest day they had so +far experienced, and life aboard the launch +when the sun beat fiercely and scarcely any air +moved was none too pleasant. After their swim, +a protracted affair, they remained in bathing +attire, deciding to have lunch there and wait +for the cooler afternoon before going on. They +pulled the launch downstream a few rods to +where the sunlight could reach it and spread +their damp tent and bedding out on the bank +to dry. Tim went to sleep then, Harmon sat in +the stern of the boat and played on the mouth-organ, +and Pud fished. At twelve hunger asserted +itself and they made a hearty lunch. +Afterward Tim dozed again and Pud went +back to his luckless fishing, assisted by Harmon. +The fish evidently had no appetites for +grasshoppers and Harmon’s search for worms +was unsuccessful. At three, by which time a +faint breeze was stirring, they bundled things +back on the boat and went on down the river.</p> + +<p>The river had changed now. It was three<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_102"></a>[102]</span> +times as wide as it had been when they had set +forth at Millville, the pleasant forests had +disappeared and settlements were close together. +Boats were numerous, too; fishing +launches that chugged noisily past, tugs that +towed schooners of lumber or barges of coal, +small sailboats that tacked back and forth in +the light breeze, flat-bottomed punts, occupied +by patient fishermen, anchored along the margins. +While to-day the bosom of the river was +hardly more than ruffled, Tim realized that, +with a strong wind blowing, the same stream +might well become uncomfortable to a poor +sailor; and Tim, while not certain, had a suspicion +that rough water would prove him to be +such. Consequently, he accepted with secret +enthusiasm Pud’s plan to turn into Fox River, +some few miles below, and ascend that tributary +for a way.</p> + +<p>‘But,’ stated Tim positively, ‘I’m not going +near Swamp Hole, Pud.’</p> + +<p>‘Well, who wants to go there?’ demanded +Pud. ‘Gee, Swamp Hole’s twenty miles or +more up the river! Besides, I’ve heard that you +can’t get to it, anyway, unless you know just +how. That’s what makes it like it is; filled with +murderers and such-like folks, I mean. They +just know the officers can’t find them.’</p> + +<p>‘Well, I don’t suppose,’ answered Tim charitably,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_103"></a>[103]</span> +‘that they’re all murderers up there. I +guess there are some decent people, Pud.’</p> + +<p>But Pud didn’t hold with that notion. He +shook his head and frowned darkly. ‘I guess +decent folks wouldn’t be likely to live in with +all those cut-throats and—and desperadoes, +Tim. No, sir, I guess they’re all pretty much +alike in Swamp Hole, and I wouldn’t go in +there for any amount of money. Well, maybe +I would for a couple of hundred dollars, but not +any less than that.’</p> + +<p>‘A couple of hundred!’ exclaimed Tim. +‘Gosh, I wouldn’t do it for—for a couple of +million!’</p> + +<p>‘Well,’ hedged Pud, ‘of course I didn’t mean +I’d go alone. I wouldn’t mind going with +Mr. Garvey, the marshal, and, maybe, Sumner +Jones and—and Mr. Thrasher.’</p> + +<p>‘Maybe, if they were all armed,’ granted +Tim doubtfully.</p> + +<p>‘The’s worser things than murderers in that +ol’ Swamp Hole,’ observed Harmon gravely. +‘The’s ghos’es an’ hants, Mister Pud.’</p> + +<p>‘There’s no such thing as ghosts,’ replied +Pud severely.</p> + +<p>‘How-come?’</p> + +<p>‘Because there isn’t!’</p> + +<p>‘Mister Pud, did you-all ever see a ghos’?’</p> + +<p>‘No, I didn’t, and there’s no use in your asking<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_104"></a>[104]</span> +me “How do I know then!” Because that’s +no argument at all! Nobody believes in ghosts +any more, Harmon; nobody but just darkies!’</p> + +<p>‘How-come Mister Tim say they was hants +in that there house what you’ Aun’ live in, +then? He ain’ no darky!’</p> + +<p>‘I suppose he was just fooling,’ answered +Pud, looking to Tim for agreement. Tim +nodded, but Harmon insisted with conviction:</p> + +<p>‘He don’ ac’ like he’s foolin’ when he say it!’</p> + +<p>Further discussion was prevented by their +arrival at the mouth of the Fox River, and Pud +swung the bow of the launch to starboard and +entered new water. The Fox proved a sluggish +stream, but even so the launch showed speedily +that moving against a current was quite different +from moving with it, and although Tim, +at Pud’s command, advanced the throttle to +the limit, the boat seemed contented to chug +along at a four-mile gait. Perhaps it may have +had a premonition of what awaited beyond and +was loath to meet it!</p> + +<p>For a while the stream, nowhere much more +than a hundred yards wide, curved slowly between +low banks edged with rushes from which +wide fields, mostly tilled, ascended gently to +distant farmhouses and barns. It was perhaps +an hour before the forest closed in upon them +and they found themselves moving slowly<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_105"></a>[105]</span> +through silent reaches where the shadows lay +broadly on the scarcely moving water. It was +very warm in there, for the trees cut them off +from the breeze that was swaying the topmost +branches, high above.</p> + +<p>The heat and the silence together seemed to +exert a depressing effect on them, and when +they spoke they found themselves quite unconsciously +talking in lowered voices. It was a relief +when, chugging around a bend, they came +on an aged negro in the stern of a punt, half +asleep, while two corks lay placidly on the +surface near by. He awoke sufficiently to wave +and bow to them and to shake his head when +Pud asked if he was having any luck. When +they went from sight around the next curve, +his chin was back on his chest once more.</p> + +<p>The river turned and twisted continually, +but the turns were leisurely and there was deep +water right to within a few feet of the tree-hung +banks. Now and then a snag sent them farther +into the middle, but on the whole navigation +was easy and Pud might almost have emulated +the old darky and dozed at his post. Turtles +slipped noiselessly from half-submerged logs +and now and then a fish broke the smooth surface. +An occasional kingfisher awoke the +silence with strident challenge and jays called +mockingly from the woods. Once they passed a<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_106"></a>[106]</span> +mother duck herding four youngsters before +her to safety, and Harmon’s eyes grew very +round and hungry-looking. It was now time +to think of disembarking and setting up camp, +and Pud watched anxiously for a clearing, but +the trees continued on each side, so closely set, +so tangled in undergrowth as to afford no chance +for the tent. Tim showed indications of mutiny +and suggested dining on board and finding a +camp-site later, but just then a new turn of the +stream promised better things.</p> + +<p>On the left the forest gave place to a clearing +that ran back, fan-shaped, to the summit of a +distant slope. At some time, not very recently +it seemed, the timber had been cut, and everywhere +within the bare expanse unsightly stumps +and unburned mounds of slashings remained. +Over the water hung a decrepit wharf, too high +at the present stage of the river to offer convenient +landing. Well beyond the wharf, drawn +to the edge of the red-clay bank and moored to +a near-by stump, lay a shanty-boat. This was +the first of its kind they had encountered, although +farther up the river they found them +numerous enough. The present one was small, +with a four-foot roofed deck at the shoreward +end from which a plank led upward to the bank. +It was painted green, but the color had faded to +a neutral tint. There were small one-sash windows<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_107"></a>[107]</span> +on the sides and end. That the shanty-boat +was in use was proved by two things; +smoke issuing from the stovepipe thrust through +the roof and a person sitting on an upturned +nail-keg on the deck. At first the person appeared +to be a boy, but a closer look showed her +to be a girl in a bluish dress.</p> + +<p>‘I guess,’ said Pud, ‘we can camp beyond +’em, but maybe we’d better ask.’</p> + +<p>At sound of the launch the girl on the shanty-boat +had turned to observe it. Now she stood +up and waved a hand. Pud grunted merely, but +Tim, more polite, waved back. Pud turned the +nose of the <i>Vengance</i> toward the shanty-boat +and prepared to hail it. He was going to say +‘Hello!’ and then ‘Say, mind if we camp beyond +you folks?’ All he did say, though, was +‘Hello!’, for at the same instant the girl spoke.</p> + +<p>‘Help!’ she called.</p> + +<p>The occupants of the launch stared in surprise. +Doubtless, though, they had misunderstood +her, and Pud asked, ‘What did you say?’ +This time there was no mistaking.</p> + +<p>‘<em>Help!</em>’ said the girl.</p> + +<p>Pud looked about him in every direction. So +did Tim. So, too, did Harmon. Not a person +was to be seen. Never, indeed, had any one of +them ever looked on a more quiet, peaceful, +and lonely scene. Pud viewed Tim blankly and<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_108"></a>[108]</span> +received as blank a gaze in reply. By this time +the two boats were close together and mechanically +Pud eased the launch up to the stern of +the other, motioning Tim to throw out the +clutch. Harmon, in the rôle of deck-hand, laid +hold of the shanty-boat. Pud now gave serious +attention to the girl.</p> + +<p>She was apparently thirteen, possibly fourteen +years old, with a thin, deeply tanned face +and coppery-brown hair drawn tightly back +from her forehead into a long braid which, at +the present moment, hung across one shoulder +and terminated in a bow of bright red ribbon. +She wore a dress of some thin stuff that showed +blue flowers on a white ground. It was not a +new dress, nor, observed Pud, was it particularly +clean. Brown cotton stockings enclosed a +pair of painfully thin ankles. A pair of scuffed +black shoes completed her costume. Pud decided +that she was not at all pretty. In fact, he +took an instant, if mild, dislike to the girl; but +this was more because she was regarding him +with an intense, unwavering stare from a pair +of large dark eyes, a stare that disconcerted him +unpleasantly.</p> + +<p>Tim, untroubled by the hypnotic gaze, voiced +his curiosity.</p> + +<p>‘Say, what’s the matter?’ he demanded. +‘What you yelling “Help” for?’</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_109"></a>[109]</span></p> + +<p>‘Because,’ replied the girl, still regarding +Pud, ‘I want to be rescued.’ She had rather a +nice voice, sort of low and gurgly, and there +was such a tragic note in it that Tim thrilled +and once more gazed apprehensively about +over the desolate scene.</p> + +<p>‘Rescued!’ echoed Pud. ‘What—who—Say, +what are you doing? Getting funny with +us?’</p> + +<p>‘Oh, no!’ The girl leaned nearer and dropped +her voice. ‘You must take me away from here +before they come back! You will, won’t you? +Oh, say you will not desert me!’</p> + +<p>‘Take you where? Who is it’s coming back?’ +asked Pud dazedly.</p> + +<p>‘Those—those awful men!’ She looked +swiftly, fearfully toward the edge of the woods, +and Pud looked, too, a sort of creepy feeling +edging up his spine. ‘They kidnaped me from +my happy home and they’re keeping me a prisoner +in this dreadful place.’ She was speaking +now in a thrilling whisper. ‘You can’t imagine +what I’ve been through! It—it has been terrible!’ +She shuddered. So did Pud and Tim, +the latter having joined Pud at the bow. ‘You +will rescue me, won’t you?’</p> + +<p>‘Well,’ muttered Pud uncomfortably, ‘I +don’t know. It—it sounds sort of funny to +me. Say, what’s your name, and where do you +live?’</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_110"></a>[110]</span></p> + +<p>‘My name’s Gladys Ermintrude Liscomb, +and I live in Corbin. Oh, won’t you please, +<em>please</em> take me home to my poor, distracted +mother? If you are seeking a reward—’</p> + +<p>‘Gosh, no!’ exclaimed Tim. ‘Sure, we’ll take +you home! Won’t we, Pud?’</p> + +<p>‘Gee, I don’t know!’ Pud scowled at the +deck. ‘What I want to know—’</p> + +<p>‘Oh, dear!’ cried the girl distressedly. +‘We’re wasting time! They’ll be back almost +any moment now. They went off with their +guns an hour ago. They said they were going +hunting, but’—again she shuddered—‘I +don’t know what awful deed they are up to!’</p> + +<p>‘That’s right,’ urged Tim, tugging Pud’s arm. +‘We’d better get a move on.’</p> + +<p>‘What I want to know,’ repeated Pud doggedly, +‘is what they wanted to kidnap you for.’ +He viewed Gladys Ermintrude in cold apprisal. +‘You don’t look to me like the sort of girls that +get kidnaped. I guess your folks ain’t got much +money, have they?’</p> + +<p>‘They have, too!’ declared the girl resentfully. +‘They’re fabulously wealthy, you horrid +thing! Why, I wouldn’t be one bit surprised if +mother had offered a thousand dollars reward +for me!’</p> + +<p>‘Huh, that isn’t much,’ said Pud.</p> + +<p>‘Or maybe ten thousand,’ added Gladys +Ermintrude hastily.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_111"></a>[111]</span></p> + +<p>‘Gosh!’ murmured Tim.</p> + +<p>Even Pud was impressed now, but he was +still cautious.</p> + +<p>‘Well, maybe it’s all right,’ he muttered, +‘but Corbin’s a good eight miles from here, I +guess, and we’ve got to get our tent pitched. +Maybe in the morning we could attend to it for +you.’</p> + +<p>The girl’s wail of despair was really heart-rending. +‘Too late!’ she cried. ‘To-morrow I +shall be far away!’</p> + +<p>‘Oh, say, Pud,’ begged Tim, ‘have a heart, +can’t you? Gosh, suppose she was your sister +or something! Gosh, I guess you wouldn’t like +it if she was! I guess—’</p> + +<p>‘I haven’t got any sister,’ replied Pud stubbornly. +‘Anyhow, what I say is—’</p> + +<p>‘Yonder’s them,’ interrupted Harmon in +pleased excitement.</p> + +<p>They all looked. Several hundred yards distant +two men, carrying shot-guns, had emerged +into the clearing. They were undeniably rough-looking +persons, and, rescue or no rescue, Pud +instantly decided, this was no place to spend +the night!</p> + +<p>‘Quick!’ said Gladys Ermintrude tensely. +‘Start your engine! It won’t take me a second +to get my bag!’</p> + +<p>She disappeared into the shanty-boat and<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_112"></a>[112]</span> +Tim sprang to the fly-wheel. Pud stared irresolutely +after the girl and then uneasily toward +the leisurely approaching men. The engine +came to life and Pud reached a decision. He +didn’t like that silly girl, and there was something +mighty funny about the whole business, +but here was real adventure!</p> + +<p>‘Stand ready to cast off!’ he ordered briskly.</p> + +<p>‘Er-huh,’ replied Harmon.</p> + +<p>Then they waited. From within the shanty-boat +came faint sounds, but no Gladys Ermintrude. +Pud looked apprehensively at the approaching +kidnapers. They were walking more +briskly now, even, he thought, hurriedly. +Doubtless they had caught sight of the launch. +A sunbeam glinted on the barrel of a gun and +Pud felt suddenly chilly at the back of his +neck. He called hoarsely.</p> + +<p>‘Hey there! Gladys Whatyoucall it! Get a +move on, can’t you?’</p> + +<p>‘Just a minute!’ called the girl.</p> + +<p>‘No, sir, not a half a minute! If you ain’t out +here before I count five I’m going to leave you! +One—’</p> + +<p>‘Maybe we’d better start along,’ said Tim +uneasily. ‘We could come back later, I guess, +and get her, Pud.’</p> + +<p>‘Mighty fierce-lookin’ men, they is,’ declared +Harmon cheerfully.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_113"></a>[113]</span></p> + +<p>‘Four,’ counted Pud, his intervals shortening +perceptibly. ‘<em>Five!</em> Back her up, Tim!’</p> + +<p>‘Here I am,’ announced Gladys Ermintrude +triumphantly. ‘Will you please take my bag?’</p> + +<p>‘No, I won’t,’ growled Pud. ‘Throw it in and +jump quick! Let’s go, Tim! Give her gas!’</p> + +<p>Gladys Ermintrude landed somewhat inelegantly +in the launch just as that craft churned +away from the shanty-boat and just as a stentorian +hail came across the clearing.</p> + +<p>‘<em>Hey! Where you goin’?</em>’ shouted a voice.</p> + +<p>Pud swung the wheel hard, the <i>Vengance</i> +pushed her nose into the current, and Gladys +Ermintrude, jumping to a seat, waved defiantly +toward shore.</p> + +<p>‘Ha, ha!’ she cried. ‘At last, villains, I am +out of your clutches! Before dawn the hand of +Justice—’</p> + +<p>Unceremoniously Pud grabbed a skinny +ankle and Gladys Ermintrude collapsed in a +heap. ‘You shut up!’ sputtered Pud. ‘Want +us to get shot? You get down and stay down!’ +He was obeying his own order as well as he +could, and so were Tim and Harmon. The +launch was picking up speed now and the +shanty-boat was already a length behind, +shutting out of sight the kidnapers for the +moment. ‘Give her all there is, Tim!’ called +Pud.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_114"></a>[114]</span></p> + +<p>‘She’s got it,’ answered Tim. ‘Reckon they’ll +shoot?’</p> + +<p>‘I don’t know! Keep down, you’d better.’ +Pud put his own head up and looked back. The +two men, roughly clothed and bearded desperadoes +indeed, were running hard now, were +almost at the bank. As long as they kept on +running, Pud reflected, they couldn’t shoot, and +even if they did shoot they couldn’t do more +than pepper the boat as long as they all kept +below the gunwale and—</p> + +<p>‘Come back here!’ called an angry voice. +‘Where are you taking that girl? I’ll have the +Law on you!’</p> + +<p>‘Oh,’ exclaimed Gladys Ermintrude despairingly, +‘that he should speak of the Law!’</p> + +<p>The other man shouted now, his words coming +more faintly as the distance increased. +‘You Tibbie! You Tibbie Liscomb, you come +right back here! If you don’t I’ll tell your +mother the minute—’</p> + +<p>The rest was lost in the noise of the engine +and the steady thud of the propeller. Pud +scowled questioningly at the girl crouched beside +him. ‘What’s he call you Tibbie for?’ he +demanded suspiciously. ‘And how’s he going +to tell your ma if—’</p> + +<p>‘He does it to humiliate me,’ answered the +girl bitterly. ‘They both called me Tibbie.<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_115"></a>[115]</span> +Ah, well, it’s over now!’ She sighed deeply and +turned a look of gratitude on Pud. ‘My preserver!’ +she whispered. ‘Had it not been for +you, who knows what awful fate were mine! +Never, never can I thank you enough, my +brave—’</p> + +<p>‘Aw, cut it,’ growled Pud. ‘And you’d better +wipe the end of your nose. You’ve got engine +grease on it.’</p> + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_116"></a>[116]</span></p> + +<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_IX">CHAPTER IX<br> +<small>PURSUIT</small></h2> +</div> + + +<p>The shanty-boat, the sagging wharf, and the +waving men grew small in the distance. The +forest closed in once more. At last the clearing +passed from sight as the launch, chugging determinedly, +rounded a shadowed bend in the +river. Pud and Tim sighed with relief. Harmon, +as solemn as an owl, perched on the stern +and stared curiously at Gladys Ermintrude. +The girl, preparatory to her flight, had somehow +struggled into a very tight sweater of a deep +orange shade which, beyond the shadow of a +doubt, harmonized sadly with her tanned face +and copper-hued hair. She had brought with +her an ancient satchel encompassed, at one end, +by a rusty-black strap and at the other a piece +of clothes-line. It was the satchel that again +aroused Pud’s sleeping suspicions.</p> + +<p>‘Say, if you were kidnaped,’ he asked, ‘how’d +you happen to bring all your clothes along with +you?’</p> + +<p>‘Sakes alive!’ exclaimed Gladys Ermintrude. +‘Why, those aren’t <em>all</em> my clothes! Why, I’ve +just got a few simple things in the bag, hardly a +change of attire.’</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_117"></a>[117]</span></p> + +<p>‘Just the same,’ persisted Pud, ‘if you were +kidnaped—’</p> + +<p>‘Gosh,’ expostulated Tim, who, being somewhat +susceptible to feminine charm, chivalrously +disapproved of Pud’s incredulous attitude, +‘why wouldn’t she take some duds with +her?’</p> + +<p>‘Well, because as a usual thing kidnaped +folks don’t have time to pack bags. When you +kidnap a person, you just grab him quick and +throw him into a—an automobile and beat it!’</p> + +<p>‘You don’t understand,’ said Gladys Ermintrude +in a somewhat superior manner that +increased Pud’s growing dislike. ‘You see, +they came for me when I was all alone in the +house, and after they had bound me up and +thrown me helpless on—on the floor—’</p> + +<p>‘Gosh!’ muttered Tim.</p> + +<p>Harmon chortled, whether from horror or +delight it would have been difficult to say.</p> + +<p>‘They got the bag and made me tell them +what to put in it,’ continued Gladys Ermintrude. +‘But, sakes alive, I simply couldn’t think +of half the things I really needed, and I came +away without my negligee and—oh, several +other things. I really don’t see how I managed +to get along as well as I did!’</p> + +<p>‘Well, then,’ said Pud, ‘what did they do it +for?’</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_118"></a>[118]</span></p> + +<p>The girl’s eyes opened wide. ‘Why, for the +reward, of course!’</p> + +<p>‘Sure,’ assented Tim. ‘Folks always offer +rewards, Pud.’</p> + +<p>Pud looked unconvinced. ‘I wouldn’t,’ he +said, eyeing Gladys Ermintrude with no enthusiasm. +Then: ‘Who were those men?’ he +asked.</p> + +<p>‘They were’—the girl’s gaze wavered momentarily—‘they +were a Mr. Liscomb and—’</p> + +<p>‘But that’s your name!’ exclaimed Tim.</p> + +<p>‘Yes,’ she agreed. ‘He’s my uncle. The tallest +one, I mean.’</p> + +<p>‘Oh, shucks!’ said Pud. ‘You can’t be kidnaped +by your own uncle! Gee, I knew there +was something queer about it!’</p> + +<p>‘You can, too,’ responded the girl indignantly. +‘I guess an uncle can be just as—just as villainous +as any one. You don’t know my uncle +Asa!’</p> + +<p>‘Who’s the other one?’ asked Pud.</p> + +<p>‘Uncle Asa’s brother. His name’s William.’</p> + +<p>‘Well, he’s your uncle, too, isn’t he?’ demanded +Pud impatiently.</p> + +<p>‘No, he’s not.’</p> + +<p>‘Well, but, gee, he’s got to be! If he’s your +uncle’s brother, he’s your uncle, too. Isn’t he, +Tim?’</p> + +<p>‘Well,’ began Tim hesitantly. But at that<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_119"></a>[119]</span> +moment Harmon broke in with the warning announcement +that there was a boat coming down +the river, and the matter of relationship was +dropped. Pud viewed the still distant craft and +decided on discretion.</p> + +<p>‘They might see you and tell your <em>uncles</em>,’ he +said to the girl, emphasizing the last word triumphantly. +‘You sit down here and I’ll throw +the end of the tent over you till they get by.’</p> + +<p>‘It isn’t “they,” it’s “him,”’ answered Gladys +Ermintrude. ‘It’s Pete Minger, and he’s going +after them.’</p> + +<p>‘After those—after your uncles?’</p> + +<p>She nodded cheerfully. ‘They’re going farther +down the river. Pete’s going to tow them. He’s +sort of late and—’</p> + +<p>‘He’s coming like the dickens,’ exclaimed +Tim admiringly. ‘Gosh, that boat goes, don’t +it?’</p> + +<p>Pud hastily pushed the seemingly unwilling +girl to a position beside the tent and drew a +corner of a flap over her. ‘You keep still,’ he +warned her. There was a smothered response +that sounded rebellious. ‘You scrooch down, +too, Harmon. We don’t want any trouble, I +guess. You sort of turn your back, Tim.’</p> + +<p>The oncoming launch bore down fast. In the +stern lolled a disreputable-looking individual in +a torn khaki shirt, hatless, smoking a pipe. He<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_120"></a>[120]</span> +waved carelessly as he passed, but Pud saw +that he was plainly interested in the <i>Vengance</i>. +Even after he had passed, he kept his gaze upstream +for several minutes.</p> + +<p>‘All right,’ said Pud finally, throwing off the +tent flap. ‘You can get up now.’</p> + +<p>Gladys Ermintrude arose with a very red +countenance and sneezed several times. ‘I +don’t see,’ she announced vindictively, ‘what +you had to do that for. I guess my—those +awful men saw the name on this boat, and I +guess Pete Minger saw it, too. So what sense +was there in putting me under that horrid, +smelly old tent, I just wish you’d please tell +me?’</p> + +<p>‘Gosh, that’s so,’ agreed Tim. Pud, feeling +rather foolish, merely looked haughty and made +no answer. Tim went on, a tone of uneasiness +in his voice, ‘Look here, Pud, suppose those +men—those uncles, you know—I mean those +one uncle and—’</p> + +<p>‘Oh, get on with it,’ interrupted Pud.</p> + +<p>‘Well, suppose they get this fellow, Pete +Something, to take them in his launch and +come after us?’</p> + +<p>‘Suppose they do?’</p> + +<p>‘Well, my goodness, it’s a heap faster than +this boat! They’d catch us in no time! And, +gosh, Pud, if they did catch us, I guess they’d<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_121"></a>[121]</span> +be pretty mad and I don’t know what would +happen!’</p> + +<p>‘No more do I,’ said Pud gloomily. ‘But it +was your idea, this rescue business. <em>I</em> didn’t +want to do it. <em>I</em> didn’t—’</p> + +<p>‘I do believe that’s just what they’ll do,’ +broke in the girl excitedly. ‘Isn’t it just thrilling? +That launch of Pete Minger’s is the fastest +thing on the river, I guess!’</p> + +<p>‘You seem mighty pleased about it,’ said +Pud bitterly. ‘I dare say you don’t care a bean +if we get plugged full of bullets!’</p> + +<p>‘I do, too, but they haven’t got any bullets. +It’s just bird-shot. Anyway, they probably +won’t catch us.’</p> + +<p>‘Why won’t they?’ demanded Tim eagerly.</p> + +<p>‘Because it’s getting pretty dark, and if we +go up Fish-Hawk Creek and hide under the +bushes, I guess they won’t find us.’</p> + +<p>‘Fish-Hawk Creek?’ inquired Pud. ‘Where’s +that?’</p> + +<p>‘Just a short distance. It’s the first creek you +find. I think I can tell when we get to it. I’ve +been there lots of times with my—with +friends.’</p> + +<p>‘Kidnaped, I suppose,’ said Pud sarcastically.</p> + +<p>‘Aw, Pud!’ begged Tim.</p> + +<p>Just then came a pathetic voice from the +shadowy figure of Harmon in the stern. ‘Ain’ +we goin’ have no supper?’ he asked.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_122"></a>[122]</span></p> + +<p>It came to Pud and Tim instantly that they +were very, very hungry, but Pud shook his +head. ‘Got to wait till we land,’ he declared. +Tim sighed deeply and Harmon relapsed into a +melancholy silence. Pud yielded the wheel to +Tim and tried to add to the boat’s speed, but +no amount of oiling or coaxing made any difference. +The <i>Vengance</i> plodded doggedly along +at some four miles through the growing darkness +while Pud, gazing back down the dim +stream, watched for pursuers. Presently he +broke into a conversation between Tim and +Gladys Ermintrude with: ‘How much farther’s +this creek?’</p> + +<p>The girl, recalled to her responsibilities, +looked about her a moment. Then, ‘Sakes +alive,’ she exclaimed in surprise, ‘I do believe +we’ve gone by it! Didn’t you see a little opening +on that side a few minutes ago?’</p> + +<p>‘No, I didn’t!’ answered Pud shortly. ‘Are +you sure we’ve passed it?’</p> + +<p>‘We-ell, I’m not absolutely—Yes, I am, +too! There’s Peacher’s Bend right up there +where the two tall pines stick up, and Fish-Hawk +Creek’s a quarter of a mile below that. +My, weren’t we stupid to go by it?’</p> + +<p>‘Weren’t <em>we</em> stupid!’ echoed Pud disgustedly. +‘I thought you were going to tell us when we +got to it! Gee, I never saw a girl yet who was<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_123"></a>[123]</span> +any good in a pinch! What’ll we do now? Is +there another creek anywhere near?’</p> + +<p>‘No, there isn’t. Not for more than two +miles, I guess. And I don’t think you’re very +polite to your guests to talk like that! I’m sure +if I was running this boat—’</p> + +<p>‘Well, you aren’t,’ snapped Pud crossly. +‘And I’m going to turn back,’ he added defiantly.</p> + +<p>‘We-ell,’ muttered Tim, ‘if you think we’d +ought to—’</p> + +<p>‘Well, gee, if we don’t those fellows will +catch us easy, won’t they? <em>Some one’s</em> got to +decide <em>something</em>, I should think! We can’t <em>all</em> +spend our time just <em>talking</em>! You take the engine +and I’ll see if we can turn around without +hitting the bank.’</p> + +<p>They could and did and then Pud ran the +launch as close as he dared to the left-hand +bank and went slowly back downstream in +search of the mouth of Fish-Hawk Creek. It +was too dark now to see anything distinctly +save the steely ribbon of river where the last of +the daylight reached it through the walls of +forest. Pud’s spirits were getting very low. +They usually did get low if he went much beyond +his accustomed time for food. He was taking +some slight pleasure in a mental picture of +Gladys Ermintrude walking the plank when<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_124"></a>[124]</span> +something leaped into his vision far down the +stream. More than once already he had imagined +just such an object, but this time it wasn’t +imagination. Harmon saw it, too, and remarked +the fact with melancholy alacrity. And +then they all saw it and for a moment nothing +was said aboard the launch. Then it was the +girl who broke the eloquent silence.</p> + +<p>‘Sakes alive!’ she giggled. ‘Isn’t this just +too dramatic?’</p> + +<p>‘If you weren’t a girl,’ began Pud between his +teeth.</p> + +<p>‘Gosh,’ murmured Tim, ‘I guess we’re in for +it!’</p> + +<p>‘Can’ do nothin’ to me,’ announced Harmon +defiantly. ‘I ain’ kidnup nobody!’</p> + +<p>‘If we could only find that creek!’ muttered +Pud.</p> + +<p>The other boat was coming fast, fairly eating +up the space between, and now they could hear +very plainly the steady <em>plup-plup</em> of her exhaust. +Pud desperately wondered if, should +they stop and huddle close to the bank in the +shadows, they could escape being seen. Then +a wiser plan came to him and his spirits rose +buoyantly.</p> + +<p>‘I’m going right on past ’em,’ he announced. +‘They won’t be looking for us to come this way, +and they won’t suspect, I guess, when they<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_125"></a>[125]</span> +see the name on the bow isn’t the same! You +get down and cover yourself up, Gladys Evinrude. +You see that she don’t show, Tim. Harmon, +you scrooch down on the bottom and stay +there. You sit up here with me, Tim. Make-believe +you’re asleep. Put your arms on the—That’s +it! Here they come! Every one keep +still and, no matter what happens, don’t say a +word or make a sound!’</p> + +<p>The two launches drew nearer and nearer, +Minger’s boat in mid-stream, the <i>Jolly Rodger</i> +close to the bank. Pud leaned carelessly against +the gunwale, trying to express drowsiness by +his attitude. Now he could see that the approaching +boat held three forms, one seated +and one erect at the bow, another standing +near the middle. Then a strong flash-light +swept across the few yards of intervening water +and a hoarse voice hailed.</p> + +<p>‘<em>Hi, there! Slow down!</em>’ it commanded.</p> + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_126"></a>[126]</span></p> + +<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_X">CHAPTER X<br> +<small>FISH-HAWK CREEK</small></h2> +</div> + + +<p>The other boat slowed, stopped. Pud pretended +not to understand, and the <i>Jolly Rodger</i> +went chugging on, the skipper waving a friendly +hand. But the ruse didn’t work.</p> + +<p>‘<em>Hi, you! Stop that launch!</em>’ was the order.</p> + +<p>Pud shook his apparently slumbering companion. +‘Wake up, Tim,’ he shouted. ‘Take +the wheel!’</p> + +<p>Tim groped sleepily for the wheel, yawning +loudly, and Pud stepped to the engine and +pushed up the throttle. With the other hand +he threw the clutch out. By the time this was +accomplished some forty feet of river separated +the two boats, and the <i>Jolly Rodger</i> was still +floating slowly with the current. The light from +the electric torch passed searchingly along the +launch, from stem to stern and back again, to +come to rest finally on Pud. And while it +passed the low voices of the men sounded +plainly.</p> + +<p>‘That isn’t the one. Look at the name, <i>Jolly +Rodger</i>.’</p> + +<p>‘Well, no, but it looks like it, and—’</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_127"></a>[127]</span></p> + +<p>‘Besides, there were three of them on the +other.’</p> + +<p>‘Might be another one somewheres about,’ +said the second speaker. Then a third voice, +evidently that of the boat’s owner, spoke.</p> + +<p>‘’Tain’t the craft I seen awhile back. <i>Vengance</i> +that was called. It was goin’ up-river, +too.’</p> + +<p>‘Say,’ called a voice then, ‘did you pass a +white launch with three fellows and a girl in it +a while ago?’</p> + +<p>‘I saw one farther up the river,’ answered +Pud.</p> + +<p>‘Notice the name of it?’</p> + +<p>‘Why, I don’t know as I did. Did you, Tim?’</p> + +<p>‘Yes,’ answered Tim, with another yawn. +‘<i>Vengance</i>.’</p> + +<p>‘How far up?’ was the next question.</p> + +<p>‘Maybe two miles. It was going sort of slow. +Well, I’ve got to be getting on. Good-night.’</p> + +<p>‘Good—’ began the voice from the darkness.</p> + +<p>‘<em>Ker-chew!</em>’ It came from beneath the tent +canvas, muffled yet startlingly loud for all of +that! There was a moment of silence on both +boats while the eye of the electric torch raced +back and forth suspiciously. And then:</p> + +<p>‘<em>Ker-chew!</em>’ This time it was Tim, and the +violence of the sneeze almost took him overboard.<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_128"></a>[128]</span> +The light enveloped him for an instant, +wavered, vanished.</p> + +<p>‘Good-night, boys! Much obliged!’</p> + +<p>‘Don’t mention it,’ answered Pud faintly.</p> + +<p>The other launch churned the water astern +and jumped forward again. Pud pulled the +lever toward him and the <i>Jolly Rodger</i> took up +her journey. For a long moment nothing was +said on board. Then, from behind the boys +came a sibilant whisper:</p> + +<p>‘Have they gone? Can I get up?’</p> + +<p>‘Yes,’ answered Pud bitterly, ‘but you +mighty near spoiled everything! What did you +go and sneeze for like that?’</p> + +<p>‘Well,’ replied Gladys Ermintrude, emerging +from the tent flap, ‘I guess you’d sneeze, too, if +you had to keep your head under that dusty +old tent!’ Then her indignation vanished and +she laughed softly. ‘My gracious, didn’t we +fool them, though? It was just like ‘The +Dangers of Dorothy’; where the heroine hides +in the potato sack and the villains throw her in +the cart and don’t know it! Did you see it?’</p> + +<p>‘No,’ said Pud shortly. ‘Say, isn’t that the +creek ahead there?’</p> + +<p>‘Yes,’ said the girl.</p> + +<p>‘All right. I’m going in there a ways and tie +up to a bank so’s we can talk things over. I +guess they won’t look for us there.’ There was<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_129"></a>[129]</span> +a sound of hilarity from the stern and Pud +peered back. ‘What’s your trouble, Harmon?’ +he demanded.</p> + +<p>‘Nothin’, Mister Pud,’ answered the darky +chokingly. ‘I—I’s jus’ laughin’ at the way +Mister Tim done fool them folks! ‘Ker-choo!’ +he say, ‘Ker-choo!’ My golly, that was surely +one pow’ful lucky sneeze!’</p> + +<p>‘Well, you’d better stop that noise,’ grumbled +Pud, ‘or they’ll hear you and come back! +Slow her down more, Tim, will you? Gee, this +isn’t much of a creek!’</p> + +<p>It wasn’t, so far as width was concerned, but +fortunately it was deep and there were no snags, +and Pud made the turn neatly and the launch +went slowly, cautiously forward. Tim got a +pocket torch and, standing beside Pud, explored +the banks on either side. Presently they +found what they sought, a place where the +launch could be laid close to the bank and under +the drooping branches of a big willow. Better +still, as later developed, there was a cleared +space a few yards away from the creek large +enough to hold the tent; for they had by now +abandoned all idea of getting on to Corbin that +night. It was already past eight o’clock, and +even aside from the danger of again encountering +Pete Minger’s boat, to make the ascent of +the winding stream with no better illumination<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_130"></a>[130]</span> +than could be supplied by two pocket flashlights +would be a good deal of a hazard. Pud +devoutly wished that they had never seen +Gladys Ermintrude, but since she was on their +hands they would have to reckon with her.</p> + +<p>Personally, Gladys Ermintrude offered no +objections to spending the night there. On the +contrary, she appeared to be greatly taken with +the idea. She said it reminded her of ‘Clashing +Souls,’ where the hero and the heroine were +cast away on the desert island. Tim said he +was awfully sorry about it and hoped her poor +mother wouldn’t worry too much. Gladys +Ermintrude said she wouldn’t, probably, because +this was choir-practice night, and her +mother played the organ, and that would keep +her mind busy; and was she to sleep in the tent, +or where?</p> + +<p>Pud pointed out gloomily that to light a fire +would be tempting Providence, but he was +secretly thankful when he was overruled by the +others, since the prospect of eating cold food +was as repugnant to him as to Tim and Harmon. +The latter soon had a small blaze, and +presently there was the cheering fragrance of +sizzling bacon. Pud walked along the bank of +the creek a way and returned with the welcome +assurance that you couldn’t see the light of the +fire more than about fifty feet distant.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_131"></a>[131]</span></p> + +<p>Gladys Ermintrude sat on the ground close +to the blaze and chattered cheerfully. She said +it must be wonderful to be able to cook things +the way Harmon did. Herself, she knew nothing +about cooking or any household duties. Her +mother had never allowed her to do any of the +work because it might injure her hands. Besides, +with all the servants they employed, +what would have been the sense of it? Oh, of +course, she could make delicious fudge, but +that was just play. Cooking and such household +drudgery was all right, she thought, for +girls who had no ambition, but personally she +considered it a waste of time. There were so +many more important things, weren’t there?</p> + +<p>Tim, the principal recipient of these confidences, +said he supposed there were, but that +he guessed it wasn’t a bad idea for girls to know +how to cook a little, because they never could +tell when they might have to. But Gladys Ermintrude +laughed lightly. In her own case, she +declared, knowing or not knowing how to cook +didn’t matter a bit, because she meant to live +entirely for her Art. Motion-picture actresses, +especially stars—one of which Gladys Ermintrude +was to become shortly—didn’t have to +bother themselves with such ordinary and vulgar +affairs as keeping house. They either lived +in magnificent hotels or else they owned beautiful<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_132"></a>[132]</span> +bungalows in California and had large retinues—Gladys +Ermintrude pronounced it +‘retin-wees’—of servants.</p> + +<p>Tim was rather impressed with all this, in +spite of the secret conviction that Gladys Ermintrude +was totally unlike any moving-picture +star he had ever seen, and he would have patiently +listened to further particulars regarding +her career if Harmon had not announced supper +just then.</p> + +<p>That was a most welcome, appetizing, and +satisfactory repast. They had not eaten anything +for eight hours or so, and the bacon and +scorched slices of bread that Harmon called +toast and the scalding hot tea vanished rapidly. +Even Gladys Ermintrude, while she appeared +desirous of impressing the others with the +daintiness of her appetite, did full justice to +everything. She was inclined to be critical of +the tea, explaining that she was accustomed to +having lemon with hers instead of condensed +milk, until Pud told her, almost impolitely, that +if she didn’t like what she was getting she +needn’t drink it. Gladys Ermintrude thereupon +conquered her distaste and asked for another +cup.</p> + +<p>Food can do miraculous things sometimes. +It did on this occasion. It vanished Pud’s irritability, +smoothed out the anxious lines on<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_133"></a>[133]</span> +Tim’s forehead, and set Harmon to crooning a +song while he cleared away. It also made them +entirely reckless in the matter of the fire. Or +maybe it was more especially the mosquitoes +that did that. Anyway, they piled it high with +wood, with apparently no thought for the kidnapers +in Pete Minger’s launch, and basked in +its welcome warmth.</p> + +<p>Gladys Ermintrude said it was just like the +scene in ‘Haunted Souls,’ where the shipwrecked +millionaire and his friends made the +fire on the beach and waited for the waves to +drown them. Tim retained sufficient energy to +inquire why they wanted the waves to drown +them, and Gladys Ermintrude explained that +there was no escape for them because of the +towering cliffs at their back. Tim suggested +that they might have proceeded farther along +the beach and found a place where the cliffs +weren’t so towering, but the girl didn’t seem to +think that would have been possible, although +she couldn’t explain just why.</p> + +<p>‘Say,’ asked Pud, ‘don’t you ever do anything +but go to the movies?’</p> + +<p>‘Of course, I do,’ answered Gladys Ermintrude. +‘I attend to my social duties and—and +read a great deal; and then, of course, I’m always +studying my Art.’</p> + +<p>‘Gee, you must lead a swell life,’ said Pud.<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_134"></a>[134]</span> +‘What sort of things do you read? Ever read +“The Three Musketeers”?’</p> + +<p>‘N-no, I don’t think so. Who wrote it? +Mother is very particular about my reading. +I’ve read all of Annabel Smothers’ stories; +“Lady Lucia’s Diamonds” and “Loved and +Lost” and—’</p> + +<p>‘Slush,’ said Pud.</p> + +<p>‘They’re not either! They’re beautiful! +Maybe you wouldn’t care for them; boys don’t, +I guess; they can’t—can’t appreciate sentiment.’</p> + +<p>‘Huh,’ grunted Pud.</p> + +<p>‘Mister Pud,’ interrupted Harmon, ‘does I +get me some of that there reward?’</p> + +<p>‘What reward?’</p> + +<p>‘What we gets for unkidnapin’ this here +girl.’</p> + +<p>‘No, you don’t,’ replied Pud. ‘Nobody gets +any reward.’</p> + +<p>‘How-come?’</p> + +<p>‘Because, in the first place, we don’t want +any, and, in the second place, because there +isn’t any!’</p> + +<p>‘Why!’ gasped Gladys Ermintrude, deeply +pained.</p> + +<p>‘Ain’ she say her ma goin’ give ten thousan’ +dollars for her?’ asked Harmon, puzzled.</p> + +<p>‘Yes, she said so,’ answered Pud, laughing<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_135"></a>[135]</span> +with deep irony, ‘but she says a lot of things. +She says she’s going to be a movie actress!’</p> + +<p>‘I think you’re too—too disgusting for +words!’ exclaimed the girl. ‘I <em>am</em> going to be +a moving-picture actress! Why, sakes alive, +everybody knows that!’</p> + +<p>‘I’ll bet the moving pictures don’t know it,’ +laughed Pud. ‘And as for that reward, any one +can have my share for a nickel!’</p> + +<p>‘Well, I don’t know,’ objected Tim. Gladys +Ermintrude was plainly too wounded for +speech. ‘I don’t see why her folks wouldn’t give +something for her safe return to—to—for her +safe return. It generally <em>is</em> done, Pud.’</p> + +<p>‘Yes, in stories and movies!’</p> + +<p>‘Well, but, wait now! There was a piece in +the paper just last winter where a boy was kidnaped +and his father offered a lot of money for +him; I think it was five thousand dollars!’</p> + +<p>‘Of course there was!’ declared the girl triumphantly.</p> + +<p>‘All right,’ said Pud cheerfully. ‘You go on +believing it. To-morrow you’ll see whether +I’m right or wrong. Because to-morrow morning +Gladys Evinrude’s going to be handed over +to her ma just as soon as we can get her there. +And now I’m going to bed. You and I’ll sleep +in the boat, Tim, and she can have the tent. +Harmon, you bed down here by the fire. And<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_136"></a>[136]</span> +don’t you go and raise a rumpus on account of +any skunk or anything else, because if you do +I’ll sure tan your hide!’</p> + +<p>Later, on the edge of sleep, Pud remembered +that he had not written his letter home.</p> + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_137"></a>[137]</span></p> + +<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XI">CHAPTER XI<br> +<small>GLADYS ERMINTRUDE IS RESTORED</small></h2> +</div> + + +<p>Corbin came into sight at a little before nine +o’clock the next morning, a quiet, rambling +town of little homes and shaded streets commanded +by a tall red water-tower. The railway +touched Corbin on its way to the coast, and, as +the launch drew near the line of small wharves +and landings, there came the shrill screech of a +locomotive bustling in from the north. Just +below the town they passed a small settlement +of shanty-boats, many of them hauled high +and dry above the river, others moored to the +bank with a plank or two bridging the gulf between. +Harmon looked long and interestedly +and finally confided to Tim that some day he +was ‘goin’ to have him one of them there +shunty-bo’ts.’</p> + +<p>No one had slept very well the night before; +no one, at least, save Gladys Ermintrude, who +declared that she had ‘slumbered divinely.’ +Pud and Tim, who had lain on a combination +of one cot and the top of a locker in the launch, +had certainly found nothing divine about their +slumbers, and the fact had left them both a<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_138"></a>[138]</span> +trifle tired and morose this fine morning. The +sight of Corbin had produced in Pud the first +pleasant sensation of the day, and as the launch +chugged leisurely up to a slanting float, beyond +which the sign ‘GasOLine, OiL & WaTer’ +flaunted from the side of an old shed, the +sensation grew. Here they were to see the last +of Gladys Ermintrude!</p> + +<p>During the last few miles the girl had become +unusually silent, and a close observer +might have suspected her of being slightly +worried. And now, at the landing, she seemed +to have lost some of that self-possession that +had served her so admirably during the trying +times just passed. Possibly the joy of being restored +to her anxious parents affected her. +When the launch had been made fast, she was +all ready to disembark, her colorful sweater +over her arm and her bag in hand.</p> + +<p>‘Well,’ she said, just a trifle breathlessly, +Pud thought, ‘I’m awfully much obliged to you +boys. I shall never forget what you did for me.’</p> + +<p>‘That’s all right,’ said Pud unemotionally. +‘How far’s this place where you live?’</p> + +<p>‘Oh, I wouldn’t think of troubling you any +further,’ protested Gladys Ermintrude. ‘I live +quite a ways from here. You mustn’t—’</p> + +<p>‘No trouble at all,’ replied Pud, climbing out. +‘We don’t mind a walk.’</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_139"></a>[139]</span></p> + +<p>‘No,’ agreed Tim, ‘we’d like it. Let me take +your bag.’</p> + +<p>Gladys Ermintrude clung to her bag tightly, +though. ‘No, you mustn’t,’ she declared. ‘It +wouldn’t look right for me to be seen walking +through town with you boys. And—Mother +would be horribly shocked! Thank you so +much!’</p> + +<p>‘I guess your mother can stand it,’ said Pud +grimly. ‘Come on, Tim. Harmon, you stick +here till we get back.’</p> + +<p>Gladys Ermintrude bit her lip as she followed +across the wharf, but presently she appeared to +recover somewhat of her wonted composure +and allowed the gallant Tim to take her bag. +Then, a step or two in advance of her escort, +she led the way. By the time they had crossed +the main street of the town and were among the +modest residences, she was walking with quite +an air. Occasionally she bowed impressively +to a passer or to some housewife engaged in +sweeping a tiny front porch. On such occasions +the persons addressed turned in their paths or +paused in their labors to stare long and fixedly +after her.</p> + +<p>The distance was not great, after all, for they +had only walked four blocks when Gladys +Ermintrude paused at a gate in a white picket +fence, smiled gratefully, and held out her hand.<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_140"></a>[140]</span> +‘Well,’ she announced, ‘I’ll say good-bye. It +has been most kind of you—’</p> + +<p>But Pud, who had been observing the house, +interrupted coldly. ‘Aw, come on,’ he said. +‘You don’t live here.’</p> + +<p>‘Why, I do, too!’ Gladys Ermintrude +stamped her foot in a most unladylike manner. +‘You give me my bag!’</p> + +<p>‘Don’t you do it, Tim. Look at the name on +the door; “Hopkins!” And look at the windows +all closed up. Don’t any one live here, I +guess.’</p> + +<p>‘You mind your own business,’ flared the +girl. ‘And you give me my bag this instant!’</p> + +<p>‘<em>Tibbie! Tib-bie-e-e!</em>’</p> + +<p>Two houses farther along a slight little +woman was beckoning from the porch. The +three turned and looked. Gladys Ermintrude’s +manner underwent a remarkable change. She +laughed joyously. ‘Why,’ she exclaimed, +‘there’s Mamma! Hoo-ee, Ma!’</p> + +<p>Pud and Tim, the latter’s face an interesting +study in bewilderment, followed the lightly +tripping feet of Miss Liscomb. In front of a +tiny buff-painted house, neat, but not at all +the mansion of Gladys Ermintrude’s description, +Mrs. Liscomb awaited them, an expression +of mingled relief and uneasiness on her +thin, tired face.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_141"></a>[141]</span></p> + +<p>‘Well,’ she said as the girl clasped her +emotionally, ‘so here you are! Your pa’s been +hunting all up and down the river for you. +Now, that’ll do! I’ve been hugged quite a +plenty. You stand still a moment and tell me +what you’ve been up to this time.’</p> + +<p>‘Why, Ma!’ said Gladys Ermintrude reproachfully. +‘How you talk! And right before +strangers, too!’</p> + +<p>‘Humph,’ said Mrs. Liscomb. ‘Young man, +you can set that bag down on the steps, and +then maybe you’d better tell me where you +came across this young lady.’</p> + +<p>‘Now, Ma,’ said the girl, ‘I’ll tell you all +about everything just as soon as we’re alone. +We mustn’t keep these boys any longer. Oh, +dear, I forgot to introduce you, didn’t I? Ma, +this is Pud. I don’t know his other name. And +this is Ted—no, Tim. They’ve been very +kind and obliging. They brought me up the +river in their launch, and Ted—Tim carried +my bag for me. Wasn’t that nice of him? And +now I guess I’ll say good-bye—’</p> + +<p>‘We rescued her from the kidnapers, ma’am,’ +said Pud innocently, ‘and we’d have had her +here before only they chased us and we had +to camp out overnight on a creek down +there.’</p> + +<p>‘Oh,’ said Mrs. Liscomb, turning a piercing<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_142"></a>[142]</span> +look on her daughter, ‘so she was kidnaped, +was she?’</p> + +<p>‘Sakes alive, Ma, can’t you take a joke?’ +giggled Gladys Ermintrude. ‘He’s always +joking. He’s just too funny for words!’</p> + +<p>Pud scowled. ‘How big is the reward, +ma’am?’ he asked.</p> + +<p>‘Reward?’ faltered Mrs. Liscomb.</p> + +<p>‘Well, I think I’ll take my bag in and—and—My, +how very tired I am!’ And Gladys +Ermintrude hurriedly faded from the picture.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Liscomb heaved a sigh. Then she said: +‘Come up on the porch, please, and tell me just +what happened. You look real tired yourselves.’</p> + +<p>Pud, occasionally aided by Tim, gave a brief +but succinct narrative of events, and at intervals +Mrs. Liscomb nodded and at intervals she +sighed.</p> + +<p>‘Of course,’ said Pud in conclusion, ‘I knew +there wasn’t any reward. We didn’t come for +that, ma’am. But what I’d like to know is was +she really kidnaped?’</p> + +<p>‘No, she wasn’t. I’m so sorry about it all, +because you were dear to take all that trouble. +I might as well explain, first off, that Tibbie—’</p> + +<p>‘Is that really her name?’ asked Tim.</p> + +<p>‘Her name is Isabel, but we’ve always called +her Tibbie.’</p> + +<p>‘Gosh, she said it was Gladys Ermintrude!’</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_143"></a>[143]</span></p> + +<p>‘I dare say. She—she says a great many +things that aren’t so,’ sighed Mrs. Liscomb. +‘Sometimes I call them just plain, out-and-out +lies, but her father says it isn’t that; he says +she’s got too much imagination. She reads an +awful lot of trashy books, and just recently +she’s gone perfectly insane about moving-picture +shows. Mr. Liscomb says she’ll get over +it as she grows older, but I don’t know. Seems +to me she gets worse instead of better.’ Mrs. +Liscomb paused and sighed discouragedly. +Pud pursed his lips and then said judicially: +‘Well, she certainly is a pretty good imaginater, +ma’am!’</p> + +<p>‘I do hope it’s no more than that,’ was the +troubled reply. ‘She says she’s “playing a rôle,” +whatever that means; something she’s picked +up from those moving pictures, I suspect. She’s +just about wore me out. I did think when she +went down-river with her pa and her Uncle +Asa I’d have a minute’s peace. She was wild to +go, and while they didn’t want her, I guess, +they took her along because she’s a real handy +cook. They were going fishing and shooting for +a week, you know.’</p> + +<p>‘Yes’m,’ said Pud. ‘Were those men her +father and uncle?’</p> + +<p>‘Yes, and of course they were dreadfully +upset when Tibbie ran off like that in a strange<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_144"></a>[144]</span> +boat, and they spent hours going up and down +the river looking for her, and then they came +back here about midnight to see if she’d come +home. Mr. Liscomb says he’s going to whip +her when he gets her, but I don’t suppose he +will. He’s always saying that, but he never +does it.’</p> + +<p>Pud stared into the sunlight as one who sees +a vision. ‘I guess,’ he said earnestly, ‘whipping’s +awfully good for children sometimes.’</p> + +<p>‘Well, I don’t know. Mr. Liscomb will be +back very soon. He went to telephone to some +folks who live down the river a piece. He +thought it might be that Tibbie had gone there. +Now don’t you hurry away. Mr. Liscomb will +want to thank you for taking such good care of +her!’</p> + +<p>But Pud was already on his feet and moving +anxiously toward the steps, and Tim was very +close behind him. ‘Yes’m,’ replied Pud hurriedly, +‘but it wasn’t anything, and we’ve got +to be going now. I—we’re awfully sorry we +let her fool us, ma’am, and didn’t know about +them being her father and uncle, because if we +had known we wouldn’t have done it, of course, +and I’d like you to tell him so, if you please. +And I guess we’d better be going on now!’</p> + +<p>‘Well, I’m sure I’m much obliged to you,’ +said Mrs. Liscomb heartily, as she shook hands<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_145"></a>[145]</span> +with each. ‘And I know Tibbie is, too. Or, if +she isn’t, she ought to be. I guess she’ll be +right ashamed of herself, too.’</p> + +<p>‘Yes’m,’ agreed Pud, his gaze fixed uneasily +in the direction of the business section. ‘Yes’m. +Well, that’s all right. We were glad to do it—I +mean—Well, good-morning, ma’am!’</p> + +<p>At the gate, with no backward glance from +even Tim in the hope of one last fleeting glimpse +of Gladys Ermintrude, the boys turned to the +right and walked briskly away. They believed +that the returning Mr. Liscomb would approach +from the other direction, and neither +Pud nor Tim was anxious to meet him. It +might be, as Mrs. Liscomb had suggested, that +he would thank them, but, recalling the events +of the past eighteen hours, they had their +doubts!</p> + +<p>They didn’t say much as they made their +way as inconspicuously as possible back to the +boat. Once Tim remarked in the tone of one +who at last finds the solution to a puzzling +problem:</p> + +<p>‘Remember when she said her uncle’s +brother wasn’t her uncle? Well, he wasn’t. He +was her father.’</p> + +<p>‘About the only time she told the truth,’ +grunted Pud.</p> + +<p>A little later Pud asked unkindly: ‘What are<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_146"></a>[146]</span> +you aiming to do with your share of the reward, +Tim? Let’s see; a third of ten thousand +dollars—’</p> + +<p>‘Aw, shut up,’ muttered Tim.</p> + +<p>They found Harmon asleep on the after seat, +one bare black leg crooked over the gunwale. +When awakened, he accepted the announcement +that there was to be no reward coming +his way with admirable philosophy. ‘Reckon +we’s goin’ have plenty money when we sack +a town, ain’ we, Mister Pud? Where-at’s ’at +town?’</p> + +<p>As much as they desired to cast off and put +space between them and the grateful Mr. Liscomb, +they were obliged to transact certain +business before doing so. Oil was needed, for +one thing, and food for another. They had +spoken carelessly before starting the trip of +eating a great deal of fish, and in consequence +they had not stocked heavily with meat. Now, +save for a small residue of bacon and a single +can of baked beans, the larder was bare of what +might be termed the foundations of a meal. It +was decided to replenish here and now, since, +whether they went farther upstream or returned +down it, there was no other town of +size for many miles. Pud got his oil and then +carelessly suggested to Tim that the latter +could do the shopping if he liked. Tim showed<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_147"></a>[147]</span> +no gratitude for the favor. They debated +sending Harmon to the stores, but in the end +they concluded to go together. After all, +Mr. Liscomb would be quite as likely to find +them at the landing as in the town, and if they +had to listen to his expressions of gratitude, +perhaps it would be better to do so where there +was plenty of room in case Gladys Ermintrude’s +father became too earnest.</p> + +<p>Pud took the remains of the ten-dollar bill, +which had been provided for current expenses +and which had been broken at the gasoline +station at Livermore, from its hiding-place, and +they returned to the business street of the town, +Harmon once more being left in charge of the +launch. They purchased fresh meat and bacon +and bread and a dozen bananas and a box of +cookies, and then Pud, reflecting on the advantage +of having small bills handy, proffered +a five-dollar note. It was a surprisingly new +and crisp note to have been through the pocket +of a gasoline supply man. The grocer who accepted +it seemed to be thinking something of +the sort, for he turned it over and peered at it +closely for several seconds. Then he fixed Pud +with a stern look and asked:</p> + +<p>‘Where’d you get this bill, hey?’</p> + +<p>Pud told him. The grocer again turned it +over, again studied it. Then, with no further<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_148"></a>[148]</span> +words, he walked from behind the counter and +laid a firm hand on Pud’s shoulder.</p> + +<p>‘You come along with me,’ he said. ‘This +bill may be all right, but it don’t look it, and +I’ve been stung twice already.’</p> + +<p>Pud hung back. ‘Where do you want me to +go?’ he asked.</p> + +<p>‘To the bank, young man. It ain’t but four +doors from here. I don’t like the slick look of +this bill, and I’m going to have Jim Knowles +pass on it afore I take it.’</p> + +<p>‘Oh, all right,’ said Pud, ‘but there isn’t anything +wrong with it, I tell you.’ Nevertheless, +he was beginning to have doubts of the bill +himself. It <em>was</em> awfully neat and crisp, while +most of the paper currency that circulated +thereabouts was quite the contrary. And he +recalled Mr. Ephraim Billings’s statement of a +week before. A counterfeit bill, Mr. Billings had +stated, looked just like a good one. And that +was just what this bill looked like! Pud, as he +walked docilely beside the grocer to the door +of the Corbin National Bank, wondered if the +penalty for trying to pass counterfeit money +was very heavy. Tim accompanied them, looking +greatly worried. They had to stand in line +for a minute before the wicket. Finally, though, +the man behind it was looking inquiringly from +the bill to the grocer.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_149"></a>[149]</span></p> + +<p>‘Well,’ he snapped impatiently, ‘what you +want I should do with this, Henry?’</p> + +<p>‘Want you to look at it.’</p> + +<p>‘I am a-looking at it. What’s wrong with it?’</p> + +<p>‘Looks sort of funny to me, Jim. Thought +maybe it was phoney. I got stung twice just +recent, like you know, and—’</p> + +<p>‘Pshaw!’ The man behind the wicket thrust +the bill back irritably. ‘I told you twenty times +how to tell those counterfeit notes, Henry. Use +your brains! I told you—’</p> + +<p>‘All right, all right! This is O.K., is it? Then +suppose you give me five ones for it, Jim.’</p> + +<p>Jim did so, sourly, and the three returned to +the store, the grocer apologetic, Pud and Tim +much relieved.</p> + +<p>‘You see,’ said the storekeeper as he made +the change from the cash register, ‘there’s a lot +of queer money been circulating around this +part of the State recently. Tens and twenties, +though I ain’t seen any of the twenties. About +a fortnight ago two men came in here and +bought nearly four dollars’ worth of goods and +gave me a ten-dollar bill. It was a mighty nice-looking +bill and I put it aside so’s to have it in +case I was to need a nice crisp ten. Well, sir, +when that bill went to the bank—happened I +didn’t pay it out again—that feller we were +just talking to took and stamped “Counterfeit”<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_150"></a>[150]</span> +right across it four or five times! And, by +Jupiter, I was out ten dollars!’</p> + +<p>‘That was hard luck,’ said Pud, reaching for +his bundles.</p> + +<p>‘Wa’n’t it? And then again, about a week +after that, it happened again. That time it was +Clay Moody, the garage man, paid me. He +never could remember where he got it. Anyway, +you see we’ve got to be careful, and that’s +why I was doubtful about that bill you handed +me. It looked awful pretty. Well, if it ain’t all +right,’ he chuckled, ‘I don’t need to worry. +And, by Jupiter, I wouldn’t feel any too blamed +sorry if it <em>was</em> bad, seeing Jim Knowles was so +tarnation snippy!’</p> + +<p>They got back to the launch without further +misadventure, and without, fortunately, so +much as sighting the grateful Mr. Liscomb. +Ten minutes later they were in the stream, +bound up-river to a place known as ‘The Flat,’ +where the bass lived. The Flat had a Statewide +reputation as a fishing ground, and, although +they were now supplied with enough +fresh meat for one repast, they all agreed that +a nice fried bass would touch the spot as nothing +else could!</p> + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_151"></a>[151]</span></p> + +<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XII">CHAPTER XII<br> +<small>MOSTLY FISHING</small></h2> +</div> + + +<p>With Harmon at the wheel, closely watched +by an anxious Tim, Pud settled himself at the +stern and wrote a letter to his mother. Despairing +of being able to narrate all the happenings +of the past forty-eight hours, he decided to +narrate none, or almost none. When completed, +the letter conveyed hardly more than the bald +information that they had spent Tuesday night +at Aunt Sabrina’s, that they had bought some +more food supplies, that they were now on the +way up the Fox River to fish for bass, and that +they were all well. Elated by the escape from +Gladys Ermintrude and by this recent performance +of his duty, Pud dug out the damp +and crumpled pirate emblem and once more displayed +it from the stern. Tim viewed the flaunting +skull-and-cross-bones doubtfully, but Harmon +grinned approval, accepting it as evidence +that the piratical life was at last about to begin.</p> + +<p>The Flat, a marsh-bordered lake formed by +the junction with the river of Two-Pond Run +and Turtle Creek, was nearly a mile long and +about half a mile wide. It held two small islands<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_152"></a>[152]</span> +and was in most places bordered by rushes and +pond weeds. Beyond The Flat, Fox River bore +to the right for three miles and was there joined +by the Little Fox. Between Two-Pond Run and +the Fox, northward, lay what was called River +Swamp, a territory of swamp and hummock, +twisting waterways, and numerous ponds. The +ponds and streams held many fish, and in +season water fowl congregated there in numbers. +It was a favorite hunting ground with +the adventurous, but one needed to know it +well in order to navigate its confusing thoroughfares. +Many tales were told of hunters or +fishermen who had lost their way for days +amidst that watery labyrinth. Somewhere beyond +the dark cedar swamps and the oak and +maple-clad hummocks lay that community of +ill-repute, Swamp Hole, but outsiders were careful +not to approach very closely to it, since it +was well known that the Swamp-Holers considered +fishing and hunting in River Swamp a +privilege confined to themselves and had more +than once shown resentment at the incursion of +strangers. So thoroughly was this conviction of +theirs respected that few persons throughout +the State could boast of having seen Cypress +Lake, a three-mile body of water lying north +of Swamp Hole. Wonderful stories were told of +Cypress Lake; of its unfathomable depths, of<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_153"></a>[153]</span> +the huge fish that lived there, of the mysterious +disappearance of certain bold spirits who had +unwisely sought to explore it. It got its name +from a considerable growth of bald cypress +which bordered it, and it was claimed that not +for more than seventy miles farther south +could a cypress tree be found again.</p> + +<p>Just above Corbin the river narrowed somewhat +and the trees gave place to thickets of +alder and witch-hazel and storax. Here and +there black oaks, pond pines, or ash trees +formed small islands of verdure above the level +of grassy bog, and occasionally a group of black +willows hung over the water. The launch +nosed its way into the unruffled water of The +Flat an hour or so before noon and Pud dropped +the little anchor off the lower end of the nearer +island. Already there were a number of fishermen +on hand. One or two occupied skiffs, but +most dozed from the sterns of flat-bottomed +punts. Several shanty-boats were in sight +where the river entered and where the absence +of weeds offered access to the shore. Some +forty yards away from where the launch had +anchored floated a dilapidated punt occupied +by a man and a yellow hound. The man, who +was simply attired in a cotton shirt and a pair +of khaki trousers, and who wore a conical-crowned, +broad-brimmed straw hat turned<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_154"></a>[154]</span> +down over his lean face, glanced at them briefly +and returned at once to his observation of the +cork float that depended from the end of a long +bamboo pole. The dog wagged his tail in +friendly fashion and sniffed in their direction. +Then he, too, went back to watching the bob.</p> + +<p>They had bought a dozen small green frogs +on the landing at Corbin, and now they proceeded +to bait up. Neither Pud nor Tim had +had any experience in bass fishing, and at once +they were faced by the problem of depth. They +had anchored in about twelve feet of water, +and now whether to put sinkers on or allow +their frogs to choose their own positions below +the surface bothered them. Harmon didn’t approve +of frogs, anyway, and was pessimistic +from the start.</p> + +<p>‘If’n I had me a good ol’ worm,’ he muttered, +‘I’d sure catch me somethin’, but I ain’ ’spectin’ +much of these here hop-frogs.’</p> + +<p>Pud and Tim sought to learn how their +neighbor’s line was furnished, but as it remained +quietly in the water they failed. Finally +Pud elected to fish without a lead and Tim decided +to use one. Harmon, who was using a +home-made rod of his own devising, merely tied +some ten feet of line to the tip, impaled Mr. +Frog on a leaderless hook and dropped him +overboard. Then he lay back on the stern seat,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_155"></a>[155]</span> +cocked his right leg over his left knee, rested +the pole between his first and second toes and +fixed himself for a nap. After that quiet fell +over the scene. The sun was almost overhead +and the breeze was of the faintest. Now and +then, acting on the advice of the man from +whom they had purchased the bait, Pud and +Tim drew their frogs from the water and allowed +them to take some more air aboard. +A half-hour passed. Harmon was breathing +loudly in the stern, fast asleep. Then there +came a sound from the nearby punt. The yellow +hound was peering over the stern and wagging +his tail deliriously. The big cork float had +disappeared and the man was gingerly paying +out on a taut line. Pud and Tim, forgetting +their own fortunes, watched absorbedly.</p> + +<p>Presently the man began to take in on the +line, drawing it to him through a guide at the +end of the pole and coiling it between his feet as +methodically and calmly as though a hard-fighting +bass was not on the other end of it. +The hound’s excitement increased and he began +to bark ecstatically. If Pud could have barked, +he would probably have joined in with the dog! +Then, some ten feet from the punt, something +flashed for an instant in the sunlight. But the +fisherman was still coiling the line between his +feet, and now the long pole was bending at the<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_156"></a>[156]</span> +end and he was shortening his hold on it. Then, +while the water swirled close to the punt, up +went the end of the bamboo, a fat, fourteen-inch +bass gleamed in air and disappeared into +the boat. Whereupon the hound, barking more +furiously than ever, sprang upon it, his tail +wagging delightedly. The man spoke quietly +to the hound, who promptly backed off; then +he unhooked the fish, observed it appraisingly, +rebaited his hook, cast out again, and once more +became motionless. Beside him, the yellow dog +again gave all his attention to the float.</p> + +<p>Pud pulled up his line and fastened a lead +four feet short of the hook, for that was where +the successful neighbor had his. Tim pulled up +and set his weight back another foot. Harmon +slumbered on. The sun got hotter and hotter, +and Pud looked enviously at his neighbor’s +broad straw hat. He and Tim discussed the +catch in low tones. Pud thought it might weigh +a pound and Tim said a pound and a half. Anyway, +it proved that there were fish to be caught +there. Presently Tim spoke insinuatingly of +food and Pud consulted his watch and agreed +that it would be well to awaken Harmon. Just +then, however, his bob acted queerly and he +forgot all about food. The bob nodded at him, +first, and then it started away as though having +business at the other side of the lake. Pud’s<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_157"></a>[157]</span> +eyes grew very round and his hands trembled. +Suddenly the bob stopped traveling and floated +tranquilly again. Tim spoke scathingly.</p> + +<p>‘Pshaw,’ he said, ‘why didn’t you strike? +He was on there. Bet you he got your frog!’</p> + +<p>‘He wasn’t on,’ replied Pud bitterly. ‘He +was just mouthing it. Suppose I don’t know? +Maybe he did get my frog, but—’</p> + +<p>Pud was drawing his line out as he spoke.</p> + +<p>‘No, he didn’t,’ said Tim. ‘I can see it. It’s +still on.’</p> + +<p>‘You sure?’ asked Pud anxiously. ‘I don’t +see—Oh, yes, there it is!’</p> + +<p>He had brought the frog almost to the surface, +and suddenly, just as he was starting to +lower it again, there was a bronze-and-silver +flash in the water and things began to happen!</p> + +<p>‘He’s on!’ shouted Tim. ‘Hold him!’</p> + +<p>‘I am—a-holdin’ him!’ gasped Pud, doing +nothing of the sort for the reason that he had +lost his line and it was paying out at a great +rate. All Pud was doing was holding the rod +and groping wildly for the line. He got it +finally when it caught about his foot, but by +that time the fish had had a full forty feet of +run and was thinking things over somewhere. +Pud disentangled the line and began to reel +nervously. <em>Click-click-click</em>—Then <em>cli-i-ick!</em> +and out spun the line again!</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_158"></a>[158]</span></p> + +<p>‘Gee, he must be a whale!’ panted Pud. +Tim, in a spasm of nervous excitement, hopped +about behind him.</p> + +<p>‘Never mind the reel,’ he sputtered. ‘Get +hold of the line and work him in that way. +That’s the ticket! He’s coming!’</p> + +<p>‘You—you’d better get your line up out of +the way,’ said Pud. ‘He might get tangled—’</p> + +<p>‘It is up! Lookout! Don’t give him slack!’</p> + +<p>Something huge broke water a dozen feet +away, sending the silvery drops high in air, and +disappeared again with a mighty tug at the +line. Pud yielded a few inches and then recovered +them. The captive swerved toward +the stern, circled back again and tried to head +away. Suddenly there was a yelp from Harmon.</p> + +<p>‘I got me one!’ he cried. ‘I got me a basses!’</p> + +<p>He was still on his back, holding hard to his +pole which was buckling over the edge of the +boat.</p> + +<p>‘Please, sir, Mister Tim, lay ahold of it till +I gets up!’</p> + +<p>‘You fool nigger!’ stormed Tim. ‘You’ve +gone and got your line tangled with Pud’s! +And he’s got a bass as big as a house on! And +if he loses him—’</p> + +<p>‘What you wan’ I should do?’ begged +Harmon. ‘Wan’ I should leggo?’</p> + +<p>‘Yes! No! I don’t know! Gosh, if we only<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_159"></a>[159]</span> +had a landing-net, Pud! Can you get him +closer?’</p> + +<p>Pud’s rod was bending threateningly and +Harmon’s maple pole was giving forth sickening +cracking sounds. Beside the launch, the +water was boiling as the fish tugged and dived. +Then Tim acted on the impulse. Leaning far +down over the side of the boat, at the risk of a +bath, he seized a line and heaved upward. +Over the gunwale and into the launch came, +not one bass, but two!</p> + +<p>There was a shout of triumph from Harmon. +‘What I done tell you?’ he insisted. ‘What I +done tell you? I knowed I got me a basses! +One of ’em’s mine, ain’ it, Mister Pud? What +I done tell—’</p> + +<p>‘Shut up,’ commanded Tim breathlessly, +‘and get out of the way. Put your foot on that +one, Pud! Gosh, they’re snarled up so’s we’ll +<em>never</em> get ’em off!’</p> + +<p>Snarled they were, indeed! Not only in Pud’s +line and Harmon’s, but in Tim’s as well, for he +had left his rod leaning against the engine and +the flopping fish had already added his line to +the others in which they were tangled! It took +them a good five minutes to unravel the situation +after the two bass had been finally subdued. +Pud’s trophy was a whopper, weighing +all of two pounds, while Harmon’s, though<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_160"></a>[160]</span> +fully as long, lacked in girth and so in weight. +In the midst of the excitement Harmon discovered +that one of the frogs had survived the +ordeal and was hopping about underfoot, and +with a yell he went after him, catching one +bare foot in a coil of fish-line and coming a cropper +against the fly-wheel. The frog, doubtless +completely unnerved by recent experiences, +gave way to panic and disappeared through a +hole in the floor!</p> + +<p>All thought of luncheon was gone now. The +three went back to fishing, Pud resolved to +duplicate his triumph, Tim determined not to +be beaten, and Harmon hopeful of landing a +‘basses’ as big as Pud’s. They had lost sight of +their solitary neighbor during the recent period +of agitation, but now they discovered him still +motionless in the stern of the punt, as unheeding +of their presence as ever. Pud would have +liked to exhibit his catch and call attention to +its size, but the neighbor seemed such an unfriendly +chap that he hadn’t the courage. They +fished on for another hour without so much as a +nibble, and by that time their hunger insisted +on being attended to. So, while Tim took +Harmon’s pole, the latter prepared a hurried +and rather sketchy repast of crackers and +bananas and the last two bottles of tonic, and +they ate with their several gazes fixed sternly<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_161"></a>[161]</span> +the while on the floats. Probably the preparations +aboard the launch reminded the solitary +occupant of the punt that it was time for dinner, +for presently he took a tin box into his lap +and fed slices of bread and what looked to be +cold bacon to himself and the dog. He did not, +though, try to combine eating with fishing, but +carefully laid aside his pole, coiled his line on +the floor, and hung the frog over the side between +gunwale and water. So far as Pud could +observe the man had never once glanced in the +direction of the launch since the latter had arrived +on the scene.</p> + +<p>After their quick lunch, Pud, Tim, and +Harmon went back in earnest to their fishing, +but when the most of two hours had passed +without so much as a nibble, they began to +grow impatient. Pud was now on his third +frog, having drowned his second, but the luck +supposed to attach to Number Three failed +him. The sun, although somewhat nearer the +western horizon, seemed to glow even more +fiercely than at noon. At last Pud said, <i lang="la">sotto +voce</i>, to Tim: ‘I’m going to ask him where’s a +good place to catch them.’</p> + +<p>Tim glanced doubtfully across and shook his +head. ‘He’s probably deaf,’ he answered, ‘but +you can try.’</p> + +<p>Pud tried. ‘Mister, where’s there another +place to fish?’ he called.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_162"></a>[162]</span></p> + +<p>The man looked across at them slowly and, +for a long moment, appeared disinclined to +answer. Finally, though, he spoke in a thin, +drawling voice. ‘There’s right smart o’ fish up +to Turtle Pond,’ he said.</p> + +<p>‘Where is that?’ inquired Pud.</p> + +<p>‘Close on three miles up yander.’ The man +waved a hand vaguely. ‘I’d go there myself if I +didn’t have to row. Right good fishin’, up +there.’</p> + +<p>‘Bass?’ asked Pud.</p> + +<p>‘Uh-huh; bass and pickerel. Big ’uns, too.’</p> + +<p>‘Do we go up this stream here?’</p> + +<p>‘Uh-huh, up Turtle Creek ’bout three miles. +Right smart o’ fish up there.’</p> + +<p>They conferred. Pud had meant to inquire +as to other fishing localities here in The Flat, +but three miles wasn’t far, and if there were +more fish in Turtle Pond they might as well go +there and try it. Besides, they had already +decided to put in another day hereabouts and +it would be well to find a camp-site soon, for +the marshy border of The Flat held little invitation +to them. So Harmon pulled up the +anchor and, after several failures, Pud got the +motor started. Turtle Creek led out of The +Flat at the far end, and the launch went on +past the two islands and was speedily lost to +sight of the man in the punt. As the <em>chug-chug</em><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_163"></a>[163]</span> +of the little engine died away, the man pulled +up his own anchor and rowed to where the +launch had floated. There he dropped the anchor +back and settled himself again in the stern. +As he did so he winked gravely at the yellow +hound, and, while it sounds improbable, it +really did look as if the hound winked back!</p> + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_164"></a>[164]</span></p> + +<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XIII">CHAPTER XIII<br> +<small>LOST!</small></h2> +</div> + + +<p>Turtle Creek proved a shallow stream some +forty feet in width at its outlet. Beyond the +mouth the width varied considerably, but, in +spite of an occasional snag or mud spit, there +was always plenty of room. The bottom was +plainly in sight, for the water seemed nowhere +more than six feet deep. Because of the many +twists and turns, Pud slowed the engine down +and peered watchfully from the bow. Along +the banks, not more than two feet above the +stream, the bushes grew high and close, shutting +them away from the slight breeze that had +made existence on The Flat endurable. Tim +perspired and protested, fanning himself with +his hat. Of the three Harmon only was content. +At intervals smaller streams flowed into the +creek, sometimes hidden by overhanging vegetation, +sometimes in full sight and so considerable +as to width as to make it doubtful to +Pud which was the main waterway. Those +three miles seemed like six to them, and it was +almost half-past four ere the creek swung +lazily about and unexpectedly revealed a small +pond of still, black water.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_165"></a>[165]</span></p> + +<p>In size it was distinctly disappointing, for +one could easily have thrown a baseball across +it at its widest place. Connected with it, as they +later discovered, were two other creeks. In +shape it was as nearly round as any pond might +be, with low margins and much pickerel-weed +to engage the propeller. Pud voiced disgust, +but Tim replied that maybe it was big enough +to hold fish. As for Harmon, he already had his +half-dead frog trailing in the water. It took +some searching to find a depth of more than +eight feet, but they finally succeeded and +dropped anchor and went to fishing hopefully.</p> + +<p>About six o’clock hope died and Pud and Tim +took turns at telling what they thought of the +veracity of the stranger in the punt. Not once +had a hook been nosed at, not once had anything +more than a dragon-fly stirred the placid +surface. It was the stillest, most lonesome spot +they had ever seen, and Pud gave it as his well-considered +verdict that there wasn’t a fish +there, never had been and never would be. +Harmon, viewing his pathetic bait dubiously +and striving to make it show some sign of life +by poking it with a finger, remarked that if he +had some ‘good ol’ worms’ he could get results. +They fished on half-heartedly for a while +longer and then gave up. Tim was the last to<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_166"></a>[166]</span> +quit, plainly disgruntled because he alone had +failed to land anything.</p> + +<p>It was now too late to seek further for a spot +on which to spend the night, and fortunately a +really ideal camp-site lay before them in the +shape of a hummock sparsely clad with a few +discouraged-looking pines. It was almost free +of undergrowth and carpeted with coarse grass +and brown needles. There was just room for +the tent and a fireplace in front, and after they +had finally pushed the bow of the launch to +within jumping distance of dry land they disembarked +and proceeded to make camp. Harmon +had to hunt long before he had accumulated +enough wood to carry them along until +bedtime, but he succeeded at last, and soon +there was a fragrant fire burning. The two bass +were cleaned and fried, and, as the sun sank +behind the marshes to the west, three very +hungry boys squatted down around the fire and +had the best meal of the cruise. They felt far +more cheerful after supper, and while Harmon +cleaned up and rebuilt the fire, and while Pud +stretched lazily out on a blanket, Tim fished +from the stern of the launch in about three feet +of water and, just as darkness fell, pulled forth +a twelve-inch pickerel. Until he got it to the +light of the fire he wasn’t sure what it was, and +feared it might prove to be an eel! His triumph<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_167"></a>[167]</span> +was expressed loudly and at length, and he +would have gone back to the launch for more +pickerel if Pud hadn’t forbidden it!</p> + +<p>If Turtle Pond was silent by daylight, so +soon as darkness had well fallen it made up for +it by becoming seemingly alive with strange +and mysterious sounds. Two owls held a weird +and monotonous conversation in the near distance, +deep-voiced frogs called pessimistically +to each other about the pond, faint squeaks +came from the rushes, and in the bushes twigs +snapped and stealthy rustlings were heard. It +would have been worse than idle to have tried +to induce Harmon to sleep outside the tent, and +so he was permitted inside without discussion. +Undressing, Pud came on the letter he had +written in the morning, still unmailed, and he +sighed discouragedly. In spite of the best intentions +in the world, he had thus far dispatched +but one missive to his parents; and this +was the fourth night of their trip!</p> + +<p>It wasn’t easy to get to sleep. Conversation +languished, died away, and commenced again. +They made plans for the morrow and remade +them. One thing they were unanimous about, +and that was to get back to The Flat as soon as +they could. Silence had held the tent for quite +five minutes when Pud again spoke.</p> + +<p>‘Say, Tim, I’ll tell you one thing.’</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_168"></a>[168]</span></p> + +<p>‘What?’ asked Tim sleepily.</p> + +<p>‘You won’t ever catch me lying.’</p> + +<p>‘Oh, I don’t know,’ the other murmured, +‘you aren’t such a smart liar!’</p> + +<p>‘I mean I’m not going to tell lies,’ said Pud +energetically. ‘I—I’ve had my lesson.’</p> + +<p>Tim chuckled. ‘Wait till you get home and +begin telling about that bass you caught!’</p> + +<p>‘I mean it,’ Pud insisted seriously. ‘Just +look at that girl, Gladys Evinrude! My goodness, +Tim, she was enough to cure that fellow +in the Bible, Anna—I forget his name.’</p> + +<p>‘Why, she was just—just imaginative, +Pud!’</p> + +<p>‘Imaginative, my eye! Anyway, you couldn’t +believe a word she said, and if she got that way +from reading too many stories I’m going to +quit reading! She—gee, she was the limit!’</p> + +<p>‘Oh, I dare say she was all right other ways,’ +muttered Tim charitably. ‘Go to sleep, can’t +you?’</p> + +<p>‘All right. But I’d like to know whether she +got that licking!’</p> + +<p>They awoke to find the world wet and gray, +with a soft, mistlike rain falling. The difficulty +experienced in getting a fire started with only +damp wood for fuel and the consequent wait for +breakfast depressed them. Matters were made +no better when they embarked in a boat whose<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_169"></a>[169]</span> +every surface gleamed with water. They had +eaten Tim’s pickerel, and, since the fire had +been weak, eaten it in a somewhat underdone +condition, and Pud had felt squirmy ever since. +On the whole it was a low-spirited trio who set +forth through a silver-gray void to find their +way out of Turtle Pond. Twice they thought +they had discovered the outlet and twice they +were forced to back hurriedly out of the entangling +weeds. At last, though, they found +the stream and headed safely into it. There +wasn’t much to be seen save bedraggled shrubs +along the banks or an occasional clump of trees. +The fine rain fell silently and ceaselessly. They +had progressed slowly the matter of a mile and +a half, perhaps, when Harmon broke the depressed +silence.</p> + +<p>‘Look yonder, Mister Pud,’ he exclaimed. +‘See ’at big tree ’at’s leanin’ over!’</p> + +<p>‘Yes, what about it?’</p> + +<p>‘I ain’ see no such tree like ’at when we comes +in here.’</p> + +<p>‘We-ell, I don’t think I did, either,’ answered +Pud, ‘but I guess it was there.’</p> + +<p>The tree in question, seen vaguely through +the grayness ahead, leaned at an angle of some +forty-five degrees across the stream, and it did +seem strange that none of them recalled seeing +it before. Tim voiced the growing conviction<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_170"></a>[170]</span> +of all when, viewing it from beneath, he said: +‘This isn’t the way we came up, Pud.’</p> + +<p>‘Well, I don’t know,’ replied Pud doubtfully. +‘Maybe that tree fell over last night.’</p> + +<p>‘It might have, but this creek’s different. It +doesn’t twist about so much, for one thing; +we’ve been going pretty straight for ’most a +mile, I guess; and it’s deeper; you can’t see the +bottom nearly so plain.’</p> + +<p>‘Of course not, when it’s raining. What do +you say, Harmon?’</p> + +<p>‘I reckon we done got los’,’ answered Harmon +simply.</p> + +<p>‘Lost, my eye! Even if this isn’t the way we +came, it’s bound to lead back to the river. I +guess we got mixed up back there and took the +stream that led out of the pond over to the left +of where we fished, Tim. Anyway, the current’s +going the way we’re going, and so it must lead +back to the river.’</p> + +<p>Tim wasn’t sure that Pud was right about +the current, and there was so little of it that +Pud couldn’t prove his assertion until he had +stopped the launch. Then, as it continued +slowly on in the direction it had been going, +and as a piece of cardboard dropped over by +Tim floated in the same way, the question +seemed decided. Ten minutes later the stream +branched, and Pud, about to choose the left<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_171"></a>[171]</span> +branch as naturally the correct one, was surprised +to find the current flowing toward him +at the mouth. He stopped the boat and they +made certain of it. The left-hand stream flowed +into the one they were in. That was puzzling, +since according to their sense of direction the +right-hand stream would lead them farther +northward, and they wanted to go south!</p> + +<p>They discussed the matter for several minutes +while the launch, still flying a bedraggled +pirate flag from the stern, nestled against the +wet bushes. In the end they reached the decision +that, for all they knew, what seemed to +them north might well be south. No one could +remember which way they had started from the +camping spot. If they had unwittingly taken +the stream leading eastward, what seemed to +them to be north would really be south. If the +sun had been shining they could have solved +the riddle easily enough. And so they could had +there been a compass aboard, but a compass +was one thing—almost the only thing, one +might have thought—they hadn’t brought +along.</p> + +<p>It seemed the safest course to follow the +current, since as Pud, not knowing River +Swamp, argued, the current must lead toward +the river. They took the right-hand stream +and went on. In the course of the next two<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_172"></a>[172]</span> +miles they passed several smaller waterways, +all, they judged, flowing into the present one, +and gradually the stream grew wider. The +engine began to sputter about ten o’clock and, +in spite of Pud’s earnest endeavors to find the +trouble, went dead in one cylinder. They hobbled +along for another mile, and then Pud ran +up to a bank and sent Harmon ashore with a +line. To alleviate their troubles somewhat the +rain almost ceased and the gray became an opaline +whiteness that seemed to promise clearing.</p> + +<p>Striving to recall all that Andy Tremble had +told them about the engine, the two boys +started methodically to work. Pud reported a +gasoline tank more than half full. Tim examined +the carburetor gingerly and gave it a +clean bill of health. Together they went at the +battery and followed the wires back. Then out +came the spark plugs and were frowned over +and cleaned. And finally, being put together +again, the engine displayed no inclination to +start until Pud had thrice primed it. Then it +did start half-heartedly and, as before, on one +cylinder. Only, and this they were both certain +of, it was now the other cylinder!</p> + +<p>They had occupied an hour and had gained +nothing, and so the launch was unmoored and +they went on again. Pud scowled at the sound +of the exhaust and he and Tim discussed the<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_173"></a>[173]</span> +possibility of damage from running on one +cylinder. But there appeared nothing else to +do but keep on, and so they kept on. The sun +threatened once or twice to break through, but +each time it changed its mind. However, the +rain had practically stopped, and they discarded +rubber coats. So far they had passed +no one on their way, nor had they so much as +glimpsed a house, but now, out of the pearly +distance, appeared ahead what was without +doubt a human habitation.</p> + +<p>‘We’ll stop and ask them where we are,’ said +Pud.</p> + +<p>The habitation, seen closer, was only a +shanty, rickety and unpainted. A path led to a +log which doubtless answered as a landing, although +no boat was in sight. Pud steered the +launch to the log and Tim, who had volunteered +for the duty, stepped suspiciously onto it and +leaped to shore. The cabin looked deserted, +but a few tattered garments hung on a line at +one side and an axe was buried in a chopping-block +close to the door. So Tim raised his voice +and said ‘Hello!’ As there was no answer, he +said it a second time, pausing, undecided +whether to knock on the tightly closed door in +front or make his way around to the back. +This time there came an answer, but not of the +sort he had expected.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_174"></a>[174]</span></p> + +<p>Something that sounded like a hornet sped +past him and went whining off across the +stream, and a sharp report came from the +bushes behind the house. Tim, amazed, stood +stock-still and stared until Pud’s voice reached +him and galvanized him into action.</p> + +<p>‘<em>Run, you chump!</em>’ shouted Pud. ‘<em>They’re +shooting at you!</em>’</p> + +<p>Then Tim ran.</p> + +<p>He spurned the log altogether and landed +half in and half out of the launch, his feet +dangling in the water. Pud jerked at the clutch +and the boat limped on its way. Harmon, +reaching up from a place of safety, pulled the +rest of Tim over the gunwale. Pud, at the bow, +making himself as small as possible, peered +ahead at intervals and then back toward the +cabin, all the time wondering how it would feel +to have a bullet land between his shoulders. +But the next shot went far overhead, singing +past before the short <em>crack</em> of the rifle reached +them. Looking back, Pud saw a lean form in a +calico dress and a faded blue cotton sunbonnet +emerge from the bushes at the left of +the cabin and stand for a moment peering after +them. She held a long-barreled gun in one hand +while to the other clung a child of three of four +years.</p> + +<p>‘Gee,’ muttered Pud, ‘a woman!’</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_175"></a>[175]</span></p> + +<p>There was a throaty chuckle from Harmon. +‘My golly, Mister Tim, I reckon it was plum’ +lucky for you the ol’ man ain’ to home!’ he +said.</p> + +<p>‘I guess,’ observed Pud, resuming the seat, +‘she didn’t try to hit us. All she was doing was +frightening us off. Maybe she thought we were +revenue officers or sheriffs or something.’</p> + +<p>‘Plaguy old frump!’ sputtered Tim, his +nerves still unsteady. ‘She ought to be +arrested!’</p> + +<p>‘That’s so,’ Pud agreed. ‘We’ll go back and +you can make believe you’re an officer and—’</p> + +<p>‘Oh, shut up,’ grunted Tim, coming forth +from concealment and staring vindictively +back at the now distant cabin. ‘It’s all right +for you to laugh, Pud Pringle, but you didn’t +feel that bullet whiz right past your ear!’</p> + +<p>‘Folks ’roun’ these here parts seems mighty +onsoci’ble,’ observed Harmon. ‘Reckon they +done heard we’s pirates, Mr. Pud?’</p> + +<p>They reached a second domicile a little later, +slightly more pretentious, having a tumble-down +porch across the front, but they not only +did not stop to make inquiries, but they went +by in complete silence save for the unrhythmical +coughing of the invalid engine. Hunger +overtook them well short of noon, for breakfast +had been an unsatisfactory meal, and they drew<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_176"></a>[176]</span> +up beside a fairly clear hummock and had dinner. +The steak that they had purchased the +day before was decidedly odoriferous when +Harmon drew it forth from a locker and Pud +and Tim viewed it with deep suspicion and with +highly elevated noses. Tim advised throwing +it away, but Harmon assured them that it was +a perfectly good piece of meat.</p> + +<p>‘Jus’ you-all wait till I scrape it nice an’ +wash it, Mister Tim. Why, my lawsey, ’at +ain’ <em>ol’</em>, ’at’s jus’ seasoned!’</p> + +<p>It certainly tasted delicious when, Harmon +having cut it into three portions in the hot +frying-pan and laid a portion on as many tin +plates, they sampled it doubtfully. Tim was +exceedingly glad his advice had not been acted +on. They had boiled potatoes and some rather +stale bread and much steaming hot tea with +the steak, and they ended up with cake and +bananas. And after that no one appeared to +be in any hurry to go on. Pud hazarded the +opinion that they had accomplished about +seven miles since morning, even allowing for +stops and the disabled engine, but Tim’s judgment +knocked off a mile. Both agreed, though, +that they ought to reach the river very soon.</p> + +<p>Tim rescued a piece of scorched paper from +the edge of the fire and, with a burnt stick, +drew a map purporting to prove conclusively<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_177"></a>[177]</span> +that the river when found would be the Little +Fox. But as his lines were not very clear, and +as the same applied to his explanation, Pud +was unconvinced. Pud believed they would +come out first of all on Two-Pond Run somewhere +south of Swamp Hole and would have to +go down Two-Pond Run a considerable distance +before they arrived back at The Flat.</p> + +<p>‘The way it looks to me,’ he said, ‘we’ve +been sort of circling around, first west and then +north, and now kind of west again, and if that’s +right we’re bound to come into Two-Pond Run +pretty quick.’</p> + +<p>‘Please, sir, Mister Pud,’ said Harmon +earnestly, ‘don’ you-all take me nigh that there +Swump Hole. They ain’ got no use for colored +folkses roun’ there, sir!’</p> + +<p>‘Well, I guess we won’t get very close to it,’ +replied Pud.</p> + +<p>But his voice lacked conviction, and Harmon +continued to look troubled. As Pud and Tim +could not make their theories agree, they gave +up the attempt after a while and the voyage +was continued. The stream was now more than +twice as wide as it had been at Turtle Pond and +there were occasional indications of a stronger +current. The launch, in spite of its handicap of +one cylinder, was making appreciably better +time. The stream took on many turns, some of<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_178"></a>[178]</span> +them surprisingly abrupt, and Pud had his +hands full. At last, without warning, the +stream ceased to be and they were out on a long +and narrow lake whose farther end was lost in +gray mist. Silent and unruffled, it stretched +away between wooded shores. Across from +them, to the right, a close forest of trees formed +a dark wall. Sparsely clothed at their tops with +feathery green, their long straight trunks descended +into the dark water, there bulging out +hugely. Pud, having silenced the motor, +turned to Tim, beside him.</p> + +<p>‘Know where we are?’ he asked in a strangely +small voice.</p> + +<p>Tim shook his head, staring about him uneasily.</p> + +<p>‘Cypress Lake,’ said Pud.</p> + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_179"></a>[179]</span></p> + +<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XIV">CHAPTER XIV<br> +<small>ON CYPRESS LAKE</small></h2> +</div> + + +<p>The launch floated out into the lake, only the +ripples from its bow marring the flat monotony +of the glassy surface. About them on every +side were silence and solitude, uncanny in their +completeness. The gray mist filled the distances +and hung wraith-like about the borders. +No fish broke water, no bird called from the enclosing +forest. Behind them the outlet of the +creek was already losing its identity, ahead the +lake stretched away like a broad river, between +straight lines of shore, nowhere more +than a quarter of a mile in width, until its +somber water became lost in the mist.</p> + +<p>‘Golly, if this ain’ jus’ about the mos’ lonesomest +place I ever seen!’</p> + +<p>Harmon was the first to break the silence, +causing Tim to start nervously.</p> + +<p>‘Well,’ said Pud, attempting a business-like +tone, ‘there’s one thing certain. We don’t want +to camp around here! And, even if the fish are +as big as they say they are, I’m not hankering +for any of them!’</p> + +<p>‘I guess,’ said Tim, looking distastefully at<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_180"></a>[180]</span> +the water about, ‘the only things that would +live in this lake would be eels and horn-pouts. +Gosh, it’s a creepy old hole, ain’t it? Let’s get +out.’</p> + +<p>‘Yes, but how?’ asked Pud. ‘I mean where? +There’s no sense bucking that current all the +way back to Turtle Pond. I suppose there’s a +way out if we can find it. It’s probably up at +the farther end somewhere. Generally lakes +are like that. It’s only about twenty to four, +and so we’ve got plenty of time. Wouldn’t you +think there’d be some one fishing here, some +one we could ask, eh?’</p> + +<p>‘No,’ replied Tim decidedly, ‘I wouldn’t. I +wouldn’t fish here for fifty dollars.’</p> + +<p>‘You wouldn’t probably catch fifty dollars if +you did,’ said Pud, in a weak attempt at a joke. +‘Well, let’s start her up again and see if we can +find the way out.’</p> + +<p>Thirty minutes later they were about twenty +feet from where they had been when Pud made +the above proposal. In other words, the <i>Kismet</i>—<i>Jolly +Rodger</i>—<i>Vengance</i> simply refused +to budge. They did all the usual things and a +great many novel ones; and they turned the +wheel over and over until every one’s back +ached. For once even Harmon’s magic failed. +To add to the unpleasantness of their predicament, +the rain began to drizzle down again and<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_181"></a>[181]</span> +they went back to rubber coats; and every one +knows what awkward affairs rubber coats can +prove in such circumstances. Every time Tim +leaned down to give the fly-wheel another hopeless +revolution he stepped on a corner of his +coat and so only succeeded in turning the +wheel halfway. With the rain came another +degree or two of dimness, a sort of gray twilight +that added to the depression of their spirits. +They sat themselves down on the wet seats and +stared at the engine which, now once more yellow +with rust, seemed to stare malignantly back. +Finally Tim spoke, bitterly and accusingly.</p> + +<p>‘Your father never ought to have let us start +out in a boat like this,’ he said.</p> + +<p>Pud turned upon him angrily, started to +make a retort, and closed his lips resolutely. +Some things were too absurd to deserve an +answer! Tim, still gloomily regarding the two +rusty cylinders, went on.</p> + +<p>‘If you’d only had sense enough to bring a +pair of oars we could have rowed back,’ he announced.</p> + +<p>Pud laughed harshly. ‘Oh, sure,’ he agreed +with deep sarcasm. ‘That would be easy, +wouldn’t it? With no oar-locks! And against +that current! And the stream so narrow in +places—Oh, shut up! You make me tired!’</p> + +<p>Tim turned a slightly startled gaze to his<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_182"></a>[182]</span> +chum. He hadn’t suspected that Pud was getting +angry. After all, it was a mean thing to +crab. It wasn’t Pud’s fault. Tim arose apologetically +and turned the wheel over four times. +Then he seated himself again across from Pud +and said: ‘I guess you’re right. Oars wouldn’t +be any good.’</p> + +<p>‘Of course they wouldn’t,’ said Pud, slightly +mollified. ‘I guess the only thing to do is take +no notice of that blamed engine for a while and +then try again. Motor-boat engines are queer +things, and sometimes they come around all +right if you pay no attention to ’em.’</p> + +<p>‘If we had us a good ol’ pole,’ said Harmon, +‘we could get us out o’ here, I reckon.’</p> + +<p>‘There’s the boat-hook,’ suggested Tim, ‘if +we haven’t lost it.’</p> + +<p>‘It’s here,’ announced Harmon, ‘but it ain’ +long enough. Reckon this here’s mighty deep +water.’</p> + +<p>‘I’ve heard folks say there wasn’t any bottom +at all some places,’ said Tim awedly.</p> + +<p>‘Pshaw, that’s foolishness,’ replied Pud. ‘If +there wasn’t any bottom how’d the water stay +in here? But a pole wouldn’t get us very far. +Even if we had three poles we wouldn’t reach +the end of the pond before dark. No, sir, if we +can’t get the engine going we’ll just have to +spend the night right where we are.’</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_183"></a>[183]</span></p> + +<p>A depressed silence greeted the announcement. +Then Tim remarked, ‘Well, I’d a heap +rather stay here than go ashore!’</p> + +<p>‘Oh, I guess nothing would hurt us,’ said +Pud with assumed cheerfulness.</p> + +<p>‘I ain’ goin’ ashore,’ declared Harmon emphatically. +‘No, sir, I ain’! There’s hants and +ghos’es ’roun’ here, Mister Pud.’</p> + +<p>‘Oh, shucks, Harmon! You shut up about +your ghosts. I’ve told you there isn’t any such +thing as a ghost, haven’t I?’</p> + +<p>‘Yes, you done tol’ me all right, Mister Pud, +but you ain’ never seen—’</p> + +<p>‘That’ll do for you!’ said Pud sternly. ‘Gee, +as if we didn’t have enough trouble without you +always raking up your old ghosts and haunts!’</p> + +<p>Silence followed. The rain lessened, became +a mist once more, almost ceased. The lake +lightened perceptibly. Pud looked at his +watch. It was now twenty-five after four. +‘Let’s eat some crackers,’ he suggested. ‘Then +we’ll try her again.’</p> + +<p>The crackers were all right, but they produced +a thirst, and there was nothing drinkable +aboard save condensed milk. Tim absolutely +refused to drink the lake water at first, but, +after Pud and Harmon had both pronounced it +warm but sweet, he yielded and quenched his +thirst, predicting, though, that it would probably<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_184"></a>[184]</span> +give him typhoid fever and result in his +untimely death. To which gloomy prophecy +Pud replied that, as they had all drank it, they +would probably die together.</p> + +<p>Cheered and invigorated by the modest repast, +they returned to another prolonged argument +with the engine, an argument that proved +entirely one-sided and left them about where +they had started. At intervals it misted, and +steadily the desolate scene about them grew +dimmer and more mysterious as evening approached. +Harmon, when not taking his turn +at the fly-wheel or performing one of a half-hundred +commands made by Pud and Tim, +spent his time staring apprehensively at the +nearer shore, where, as the darkness crept +stealthily forth from the thick woods, the mist +that hung along the margin made for his willing +imagination weird shapes and shadows. At last +they acknowledged defeat, and, rather than +drift to the shore during the night, Pud tossed +over the anchor. The splash of it awoke a +dozen echoes from the shores. Out and out +went the light line, the boys staring in astonishment. +Then, with a jerk, it stopped because +there was no more of it, and still it descended +straight from the bow.</p> + +<p>‘Gee,’ muttered Pud, ‘there’s thirty-six feet +of it, and that anchor hasn’t touched!’</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_185"></a>[185]</span></p> + +<p>‘I told you there wasn’t any bottom!’ exclaimed +Tim, drawing uneasily away from the +edge of the launch.</p> + +<p>‘Pshaw, thirty-six feet isn’t so deep for a +lake,’ muttered Pud.</p> + +<p>‘It isn’t? I’d like to know where there’s a +lake up our way that’s more than twenty!’</p> + +<p>‘Well, what of it? This isn’t up our way. I +guess there are lakes out West and up in British +Columbia and—and Alaska that are hundreds +of feet deep! Well, anyway, there’s no use +leaving it out, I guess. Might as well pull it up +again, eh?’</p> + +<p>‘No, leave it there,’ said Tim. ‘If we drift +into shallower water it will catch and hold us. +Gosh, Pud, we can’t be more than eighty feet +from that shore there. Think of the water +being as deep as it is! Must go down mighty +sudden, eh?’</p> + +<p>‘Yes, it must slope right off. Say, you’d get +awfully fooled if you went in bathing over there +and started to wade out, wouldn’t you?’ Tim +agreed, with a shudder, that you would! ‘Gee, +I wish it would stop raining—or something!’ +continued Pud, staring disconsolately about +him into the gathering twilight. ‘It’s going to +get dark awfully early to-night, Tim. Maybe +we’d better be thinking about something to +eat pretty soon. We can have some canned +beans—’</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_186"></a>[186]</span></p> + +<p>‘Cold?’ asked Tim without enthusiasm.</p> + +<p>‘Well, we can’t make a fire on board, can we? +I say, though, where’s that stove of dad’s?’</p> + +<p>‘In the bag there, but you have to have alcohol +for it, don’t you? And we haven’t got +any, have we?’</p> + +<p>‘That’s so. I meant to get some, but forgot +it. Well, we’ll just have to eat cold food for +once. Unless’—he winked at Tim then—‘we +let Harmon go ashore and cook something.’</p> + +<p>‘No, sir, Mister Pud, I ain’ goin’ to!’ wailed +Harmon. ‘Mister Pud, please, sir, don’ you-all +make me!’</p> + +<p>‘He’s just fooling,’ said Tim hastily. ‘I guess +cold beans will be good enough. I’m not much +hungry, anyway.’</p> + +<p>‘You will be before you go to bed,’ said Pud. +‘Harmon, you see what we’ve got to eat there. +My goodness, I wish we could just have some +hot tea! I’m wet right through.’</p> + +<p>‘It’s getting cooler, too,’ murmured Tim. +‘I’ll bet it’ll be awfully cold on this lake before +morning, Pud. I wish—’</p> + +<p>‘I hears a boat!’ said Harmon in a hoarse +whisper. ‘Yander, Mister Pud, up-lake! You +lis’en an’—’</p> + +<p>‘Well, shut up so I can listen then. That’s +right! I can hear the oars!’</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_187"></a>[187]</span></p> + +<p>‘You reckon they’s bogey-mens?’ asked +Harmon.</p> + +<p>‘I hear voices,’ said Tim. ‘Shall we shout?’</p> + +<p>‘I guess we’d better wait,’ said Pud doubtfully. +‘They’re coming this way.’</p> + +<p>The sound of oars was plainly heard now, +and once or twice a voice came to them, but +after listening for several minutes it was apparent +that the boat was not coming toward +them, but was crossing the lake, probably +diagonally, a half-mile or so away, heading, it +seemed, for the cypress shore. Once Pud +thought he caught a momentary glimpse of the +boat in the gray void, but he could not be certain.</p> + +<p>‘We’d better shout, I guess,’ he said, and did +so. For a space there was no response, although +he shouted ‘Hallo!’ several times. Finally, +though, a hail came back to them.</p> + +<p>‘What you want?’ called an impatient voice.</p> + +<p>‘Help,’ replied Pud promptly. ‘Our engine’s +broken down and we want to get out of here!’</p> + +<p>Another silence, as though the occupants of +the boat were of two minds as to rendering the +requested assistance. Then at last the voice +spoke again, and the words sounded heavy with +suspicion. ‘Who are you? What you doin’ up +here?’</p> + +<p>‘We’re from Millville,’ answered Pud. ‘Three<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_188"></a>[188]</span> +boys. We lost our way this morning and got in +here by mistake.’</p> + +<p>‘Boys, eh?’ The voice was lower and had +lost its quality of doubt. ‘All right, we’re +comin’. Keep a shoutin’ so’s we can locate +you.’ The oars sounded once more, growing +louder, and, as Pud called at intervals, a +shadowy form emerged from the mist and took +shape as it drew nearer, resolving at last into a +small skiff and two men, one at the oars and +the other huddled in the stern.</p> + +<p>‘Motor-boat, hey?’ inquired the latter occupant. +‘Ain’t out of gas, are you?’</p> + +<p>‘No, we’ve got half a tankful. I don’t know +what the trouble is. One cylinder went back on +us this morning and now she won’t start at all.’</p> + +<p>As he spoke, Pud was reflecting that the two +middle-aged men who were slowly becoming +recognizable as such were not at all the sort of +persons he would ordinarily ask assistance of. +They were, he decided uncomfortably, about +as villainous-looking a pair as he had ever seen! +They were bearded and tanned and generally +weathered as to face, roughly clothed as to +body, and entirely unprepossessing as to general +appearance. The man who rowed wore a dilapidated +leather coat, from which the water +trickled as he moved his long arms back and +forth, a rusty felt hat and gray trousers that<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_189"></a>[189]</span> +were rolled well above his bare ankles to keep +them from the water that swished about in the +bottom of the leaky boat. The man in the stern +looked a degree more ragged, his shoulders +covered with an old fertilizer bag still eloquent +of its former use, and his cotton trousers stuffed +into a pair of high-laced boots much the worse +for wear. A sodden straw hat dripped rain +from its down-pulled brim. The man in the +stern was heavy-set, with a bulbous nose and +small twinkling eyes, and his name, as later developed, +was ‘Cocker.’ His companion was +taller, with broad shoulders and long limbs. +His nose was long and hooked and his staring +eyes were crossed. He answered to the name of +‘Lank.’</p> + +<p>‘Well,’ said Cocker as the boat drew alongside +the launch, ‘Lank here’s the very feller +you’re a-lookin’ for. He knows more about +gasoline engines and machinery—’</p> + +<p>‘Shut your yap,’ said Lank savagely. Then, +to Harmon, who was peering interestedly over +the side, ‘Here, take this painter, Nigger, and +make it fast. I’ll have a look at your engine, +Mister. What make’s it?’ He climbed aboard, +followed by the man in the bow, and stretched +as he looked curiously about him. ‘Nice boat +you’ve got,’ he said approvingly. ‘Can she +go?’</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_190"></a>[190]</span></p> + +<p>‘You mean fast?’ asked Pud. ‘No, not very.’</p> + +<p>‘Six miles, I dare say.’</p> + +<p>‘Nearer five,’ answered Pud. ‘She gets there, +though—usually.’</p> + +<p>‘Usually’s good,’ laughed the man grimly. +‘Well, let’s see what’s wrong with the old +wheezer.’ He set to work very knowingly, +throwing the fly-wheel over thrice experimentally, +examining the carburetor, and then +unscrewing the plugs. Meanwhile the heavy-set +Cocker roamed about, his eyes studying +everything most intently. Tim, watching, +looked very uneasy. He liked the appearance +of the visitors as little as did Pud.</p> + +<p>‘Got it,’ announced Lank presently. ‘Broken +wire here. No spark, or not much of a one.’ He +drew forth a knife and made the repair deftly. +‘Got some tape?’ he inquired. Pud furnished a +roll, and a moment later Lank directed: ‘All +right, son. Try her now.’</p> + +<p>Pud gave her a half-turn and she answered instantly. +Lank laughed his satisfaction. ‘Didn’t +think to look at your wiring, I’ll bet,’ he said +derisively. ‘Well, maybe you wouldn’t have +found the break if you had. It <em>looked</em> all right. +Which way you boys travelin’?’</p> + +<p>‘South,’ said Pud promptly. ‘Where do we +get out of this lake?’</p> + +<p>‘Well, there’s two ways,’ replied the tall<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_191"></a>[191]</span> +stranger, seating himself. ‘There’s Flat Water +Creek up at the north end that’ll take you to +Fox River. It’s about four miles to the river, +I’d say. Then it’s about ten miles down to The +Flat.’</p> + +<p>‘Gee,’ muttered Pud, ‘fourteen miles!’</p> + +<p>‘Sure, but there’s a shorter way than that, +son. Over yonder’s Cypress Branch, and that’ll +land you in Two-Mile Creek back of Swamp +Hole. Only thing is, you’d never find the +branch, I reckon. Think they would, Cockey?’</p> + +<p>‘Not ’les’ we showed ’em. Not as dark as it +is now, I’d say.’</p> + +<p>‘No, you see it’s over there in them cypress, +an’ if you don’t know where to look for it you’d +never find it, son. But we’re goin’ down the +branch and we’ll show you the way, if you ain’t +objectin’ to comp’ny.’</p> + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_192"></a>[192]</span></p> + +<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XV">CHAPTER XV<br> +<small>SET ADRIFT</small></h2> +</div> + + +<p>‘No,’ said Pud, ‘we’d be glad to have you, of +course.’</p> + +<p>‘Spoke like a gentleman,’ approved Cocker. +‘Here, you Rastus, carry this painter back and +make it fast to the stern cleat.’</p> + +<p>Harmon obeyed none too amiably and Pud +and Tim lifted the anchor. A hoarse laugh +from Cocker called the boys’ attention to the +fact that he had pulled the flag-pole from the +socket and was spreading the wet folds of the +flag for Lank’s benefit. ‘Well, sir, looky here! +If it ain’t the old Jolly Roger! Lank, this here’s +a pirate craft we’re on!’</p> + +<p>Lank only nodded, and beckoned to Pud. +‘All right, son,’ he said. ‘Head her yonder till +we pick up our landmark.’</p> + +<p>Pud took the wheel and the launch set off +into the mist, bearing diagonally toward the +cypress swamp. Lank stood at his back, whistling +a queer little tune through his teeth. +Cocker, having tossed the flag to the deck, +lifted a fold of the tent and inspected it. Then +he opened a locker here and there and peered<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_193"></a>[193]</span> +inside. Tim and Harmon watched him disapprovingly.</p> + +<p>‘Pretty well fixed for a cruise, ain’t you?’ he +asked. ‘Tent an’ everything, eh? Plenty of +victuals, too, likely. Well, well, solid comfort I +call it.’ He grinned leeringly. ‘Nice little boat +you got, fellers. Belong to you, does it?’</p> + +<p>‘It belongs to his father.’ Tim indicated Pud, +at the wheel.</p> + +<p>‘That so? You come from Livermore?’</p> + +<p>‘No, Millville, about thirty miles up-river.’</p> + +<p>Pud heard this much, and then Lank was +speaking. ‘There we are,’ said the latter. ‘See +that cypress with the broken limb? Head up +about twenty feet beyond it and keep away +from shore till you see the opening.’ The dark +wall of trees loomed closely through the twilight +now, the water showing far backward between +the swollen trunks, black and mysterious. +On this side, the lake shallowed slowly to +meet the cypress swamp, and it was necessary +to follow the shore well out from the fringe of +trees before turning toward the stream. At +last Lank gave the word and Pud doubtfully +turned the boat’s nose shoreward. But a moment +later he saw that there was an opening +between the cypress trees about twelve feet +wide, and into this the launch slowly chugged.</p> + +<p>‘How much does she draw?’ asked Lank.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_194"></a>[194]</span></p> + +<p>‘I don’t know exactly,’ replied Pud. ‘Not +more than eighteen inches, I guess.’</p> + +<p>‘She’ll make it then. Better let me take her +through this stretch. There’s a lot of turns, and +if you don’t know where they are you’re likely +to get snagged.’ Pud resigned the wheel and +stood by, watching curiously as the stranger +steered the boat dexterously through the narrow +stream. The latter turned a dozen times +before it emerged from the gloom of the cypress +woods, but fortunately none of the turns were +abrupt. It was a weird and desolate place, that +swamp. Looking upward, Pud could see dimly +the feathery tops of the trees merging into the +gray mist. On every side the funereal trunks +were crowded close together and but little light +filtered down to the black water about them. +Dead branches protruded in strange and uncanny +shapes, and some aquatic growth powdered +the surface with infinitesimal green +leaves. It was a trifle lighter on the stream and +its course lay like a lead-gray ribbon ahead and +behind. Save for an infrequent voice from the +boat the silence was absolute, oppressive. They +were all glad when the launch floated at last +between banks of marsh grass and the gray +twilight took the place of the deeper gloom of +the forest.</p> + +<p>Lank yielded the wheel to Pud. ‘Straight<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_195"></a>[195]</span> +sailin’ now,’ he said, ‘and plenty of water under +your keel.’</p> + +<p>‘Is this Two-Pond Run?’ Pud inquired.</p> + +<p>‘’Tain’t called that yet, but the Run’s only a +mile or so ahead.’</p> + +<p>‘Do you live around here?’</p> + +<p>‘Well, no, not ’round here exactly. We’re +sort of visitin’. Fishin’ a bit, you know. Didn’t +have any luck to-day, though.’</p> + +<p>Pud started to say that he hadn’t noticed +either lines or poles in the skiff that was floating +along behind, but thought better of it. Instead, +‘I’ve heard the fish were pretty big in Cypress +Lake,’ he observed.</p> + +<p>‘Big? Yes, they’re big, but they’re mighty +shy. Swamp Pond’s more to my taste, but +that’s fished a lot. The Swampers keep that +pretty clean.’</p> + +<p>‘Which way is Swamp Hole from here?’ +asked Pud.</p> + +<p>Lank waved a big hand over the port bow. +‘Yonder,’ he answered, ‘about two-three miles. +If I was you I’d keep clear of it, son. Some of +them Swampers are kind o’ tough individuals.’</p> + +<p>‘Well, if we go down Two-Pond Run do we +keep away from the Hole?’</p> + +<p>‘Pretty well. There’s a few cabins this side +the Run, but I guess no one won’t bother you +if you just keep on rowin’.’</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_196"></a>[196]</span></p> + +<p>‘Rowing?’ echoed Pud.</p> + +<p>‘I meant goin’. My mistake, son. Well, +yonder’s where we leave you. Just ease up +against the bank to your left when we get to +the branch.’ Not far ahead the stream forked, +and Pud called to Tim to slow her down and, +finally, to stop. The launch nestled up against +a bank and Cocker led the skiff around to the +side.</p> + +<p>‘Well,’ he said, ‘the best of friends must part, +as the old song has it. We’re sorry to have you +leave us, but I guess you’ll be wantin’ to get +along toward home before it gets much darker. +Come on, Mistah Johnson, step aboard.’ He +took Harmon by the shoulder and shoved him +ungently toward the skiff.</p> + +<p>‘Take your han’s off me, Mister!’ protested +the darky. ‘What you-all aimin’ to do?’</p> + +<p>‘Shut your black mouth and pile into that +boat,’ said Lank grimly. ‘Come on, now, the +rest o’ you!’</p> + +<p>‘But we’re not going in that skiff!’ declared +Pud stoutly. ‘We’re going on down in this +launch.’</p> + +<p>‘No, you ain’t neither,’ answered Cocker. +‘We’ve swapped boats with you. Mind you, +we wasn’t keen for doin’ it, but you insisted, +an’—’</p> + +<p>‘Better give ’em a couple o’ dollars to boot,’<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_197"></a>[197]</span> +said Lank. ‘They might claim we cheated ’em.’</p> + +<p>‘That’s so!’ Cocker fished a bunch of dirty +money from a pocket and selected two bills. +‘Here you are, sonny. A fine rowboat and two +dollars for your launch. There’s some that +wouldn’t trade so easy, but me and Lank was +always sort o’ soft-hearted.’</p> + +<p>Pud pushed the greasy bills away, trying to +smile, although his heart was somewhere down +in his shoes. ‘I guess you’ve made a mistake,’ +he said. ‘We haven’t traded the launch to you. +We couldn’t, because it isn’t ours to trade!’</p> + +<p>‘Now don’t you try to go back on a bargain,’ +remonstrated Cocker reprovingly. ‘’Tain’t +honorable, sonny.’ He laid a broad hand on +Pud’s arm and stuffed the money into a pocket. +Then he propelled him to the side. ‘Climb over +now, ’cause we got to be shovin’ ahead. No +nonsense, neither, or’—he placed a huge fist +an inch from Pud’s nose—‘you’ll get this side +o’ the jaw, see!’</p> + +<p>‘Cut out that stuff,’ growled Lank. ‘The +kid’s all right. Let him alone.’</p> + +<p>Pud turned hopefully to the speaker. ‘He’s +fooling, isn’t he?’ he gulped. ‘He can’t take +this launch away from us! We’ve got all our +things here, and—’</p> + +<p>‘You do like we’re tellin’ you,’ advised Lank +coldly.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_198"></a>[198]</span></p> + +<p>‘But—but you’ll give her back to me, won’t +you?’</p> + +<p>‘Oh, sure,’ agreed Cocker heartily. ‘We’re +just borrowin’ it. Thought you knew that.’</p> + +<p>‘Well—when?’</p> + +<p>‘Oh, most any day, I guess. Want we should +send it parcel post or express?’ Cocker laughed +hoarsely at his humor and then broke off to lift +Harmon swiftly from his feet and drop him +into the bottom of the skiff. ‘Get in there!’ he +ordered angrily. ‘Be quick about it or I’ll +throw you all in! Come on, snap into it!’</p> + +<p>Pud looked miserably at Tim and found no +encouragement to further resistance. Tim was +plainly frightened and was already climbing +onto the seat. Pud choked down a lump in his +throat and spoke with commendable calm. +‘All right,’ he said. ‘But you needn’t think you +can get away with this. You’re stealing my—’</p> + +<p>‘Shut your face and get into that skiff,’ +threatened Cocker savagely, ‘or I’ll kick you +in!’</p> + +<p>Pud followed Tim, and Lank tossed the +painter down after him. ‘Sorry, son,’ said the +latter with gruff kindness, ‘but we have to do +it. Keep down that stream yonder and you’ll +come out in The Flat. Good luck! Clear out +now, and—’</p> + +<p>‘Mind this,’ growled Cocker, scowling down<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_199"></a>[199]</span> +at them, ‘don’t you come sneakin’ back, ’cause +if you do we’ll put a bullet into you, and don’t +make no mistake!’</p> + +<p>Tim had already found the oars and now he +began to row hurriedly across to the farther +stream. Pud, tears of mortification in his eyes, +watched the launch fade away in the darkness +a blurred white blotch until the bank hid it +from sight. Tim pulled hard at the oars and, +although no skillful waterman, soon had the +skiff well on its way. No one spoke for several +minutes. Then, as it often happened, it was +Harmon who broke the silence.</p> + +<p>‘Reckon ’em folkses knows a heap more +about piratin’ ’an what we does,’ he said +sorrowfully.</p> + +<p>Neither Pud nor Tim seemed to be able to +think of a suitable reply to this statement and +they went on until Tim, becoming exhausted, +caught a crab that almost landed him on his +back.</p> + +<p>‘Let me row,’ said Pud, and they changed +places. Again silence fell like a pall. The +stream was wide and easy to follow even in the +dusk that was fast swallowing up the world. +Small trees were interspersed with bushes atop +the low banks and these had already lost detail, +were black silhouettes against the grayer darkness +of the sky. The rain had stopped, but a<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_200"></a>[200]</span> +foglike mist still hung over River Swamp. The +boys were damp and chill, hungry and discouraged. +Finally Tim spoke from his place in +the stern.</p> + +<p>‘Those men aren’t Swamp-Holers, Pud.’</p> + +<p>‘I know,’ answered the other wearily. ‘He +told me, the tall one. They’re just visiting, he +said.’</p> + +<p>‘I think they’re town folks,’ Tim went on. +‘They didn’t talk like folks around here, though +sometimes it seemed as if they were trying to. +And one of them wore a leather coat, Pud. You +wouldn’t see a leather coat around the Swamp +in a thousand years, I guess.’</p> + +<p>‘No, I guess not,’ said Pud. His tone, though, +suggested that he was not greatly interested in +his chum’s remarks. He rowed on, his strokes +growing weaker, and then suddenly he swung +the skiff’s nose toward the bank.</p> + +<p>‘What you doing?’ asked Tim. ‘Look out, +or—’</p> + +<p>‘I’m going back,’ said Pud firmly. ‘I’m just +not going to let them have her, Tim!’ He +backed water and headed the skiff upstream as +he spoke. ‘No, sir, they can’t do that to me! +I—I won’t let ’em!’</p> + +<p>‘Well—well—’ sputtered Tim in alarm. +‘Well, what can you do, Pud? My gracious +goodness, we can’t go back there and have them<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_201"></a>[201]</span> +shoot us like they said they would, Pud! Why, +my goodness—’</p> + +<p>‘How you know they got a gun?’ asked Harmon +from the bow. ‘I ain’ seen no gun.’</p> + +<p>‘They’ve got one, all right,’ insisted Tim. +‘And they wouldn’t hesitate to use it, I +guess!’</p> + +<p>‘That’s all right,’ said Pud, rowing hard +again. ‘I’m not asking you to get shot, Tim. +I don’t intend to let them see me, but I’m going +to find out where my boat is, and if they leave +it alone a minute I bet I’ll get it back!’</p> + +<p>‘Yes, but—but now you look here, Pud +Pringle! The best way to do is go right on +down to—to somewhere and tell the police +about it! Gosh, I guess it won’t take the police +long to get your launch back!’</p> + +<p>‘Maybe it won’t take me long, neither,’ answered +Pud grimly. ‘All I’m asking those +fellows to do is just leave it alone for about two +minutes. That’s all I’m asking them!’</p> + +<p>‘Well, yes, but—but how do you know +where they’ve gone? My goodness, Pud, we +can’t row all over this old swamp looking for +them! And suppose they take it into Swamp +Hole! I guess it wouldn’t be very healthy +to follow them in there!’</p> + +<p>‘I’m going back where they put us out,’ said +Pud resolutely, ‘and see if it’s still there. If it<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_202"></a>[202]</span> +isn’t I’m going to row until—’ But he paused +there. ‘Well, anyway, I’m going to find my +boat,’ he concluded a trifle lamely.</p> + +<p>Tim was silent, torn between his loyalty to +Pud and a strong and growing disinclination +to present himself as a target to the blood-thirsty +Cocker. Harmon said wistfully, more +to himself than the others: ‘Wish I had my +good ol’ knife!’</p> + +<p>Rowing against the current, sluggish though +it was, soon began to tell on Pud’s arms and +shoulders. The skiff, awash with water in the +bottom, was old and decrepit, and the oars were +mismated besides, one being wider of blade +than the other and at least two inches longer. +But Pud pulled on, breathing hard, feeling that +a request for assistance would go ill with the +heroic rôle he had assumed. Finally the junction +of the Run with the second stream appeared +in the darkness ahead and Tim announced +the fact to Pud in a voice that held no +joy of discovery. Pud stopped rowing and +looked over his shoulder. Then he paddled +silently forward to where he could see the place +where the launch had lain. It was empty. He +wasn’t greatly disappointed, though, for he had +felt pretty certain that the men had gone on +in it down that side stream, perhaps to some +cabin near by, perhaps all the way to Swamp<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_203"></a>[203]</span> +Hole. He swung the boat around the point and +let it drift against the bank there.</p> + +<p>‘I guess you fellows had better get out here,’ +he announced. ‘I’ll go on a ways and see if I +can’t find the launch. I guess you can find a +good dry place, and you can light a fire if you +like. I’ll be back as soon as I can, and if—’</p> + +<p>‘I ain’ goin’ stay here,’ declared Harmon +mutinously. ‘I goin’ with you-all, Mister Pud, +and find that there boat.’</p> + +<p>‘So am I,’ said Tim, not quite so heartily. +‘Anyway, we can keep on rowing until we see +something like a house or a light or—or something.’</p> + +<p>Harmon took one of the oars from the not +unwilling Pud, and, with Tim keeping an alert +and anxious watch from the stern, they set +forth down the branch stream. The mist was +thinning now, and already there was a rift in +the clouds from which a few white stars peeked +down upon the adventurers. Pud’s watch +showed the time to be but a little after eight. +He had judged the hour far later. With the +lifting of the mist they were able to see for some +distance, while the darker banks outlined their +course for them plainly. The stream twisted +often, as seemed the way of all streams in River +Swamp, but no other waterways entered or left +it, to their knowledge. At every turn Tim<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_204"></a>[204]</span> +whispered hoarsely for caution, and when they +were past his sigh of relief sounded louder than +his whisper. They had gone, to Pud’s thinking, +more than a mile when, over a hummock and +between the bushes that clad it, a faint twinkle +of light caught Tim’s eyes. Obediently the +rowers stopped and let the slow current carry +the skiff silently onward toward a curve a few +rods distant. Once around it Pud stealthily +dug his blade in the water and the skiff nosed +silently into the bank. The stream ran straight +for a distance and, some three hundred feet +away, the square bulk of a cabin loomed against +the night sky. A pale gleam of lamplight fell +through a window. Before the cabin, under the +shadow of the bank, lay a grayish blur. +Straining his eyes, Pud made out the uncertain +shape of the launch.</p> + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_205"></a>[205]</span></p> + +<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XVI">CHAPTER XVI<br> +<small>NIGHT IN SWAMP HOLE</small></h2> +</div> + + +<p>They listened intently. A faint breath of air +was stirring and there was a whispering and +rustling from the bushes above them, and for a +space they heard nothing else. Then the sound +of voices came, faintly, from the cabin. Pud +placed the handle of his oar in Harmon’s hand.</p> + +<p>‘I’m going to get out here,’ he said. ‘You +take the boat back around the turn and keep +hid. Stay there till I come. The launch will be +headed upstream, and if I can get her going +I’ll slow down and get you fellows aboard. Anyway, +you stay here until I get back.’</p> + +<p>‘Wha—what are you going to do?’ asked +Tim nervously.</p> + +<p>‘I’m going to swim down there and get +aboard the launch. Then I’ll let her float +away farther downstream. When she’s out of +sound of the house I’ll get her going and come +back up here for you.’</p> + +<p>‘But you’ll have to pass the cabin,’ expostulated +Tim, ‘and they’ll hear you coming and +shoot at you! Why don’t we let the skiff float +on past and wait for you below somewhere? +Or why not wait till they’ve gone to sleep?’</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_206"></a>[206]</span></p> + +<p>‘They might not go to sleep,’ replied Pud in +whispers. ‘It might be all right to go on past, +but suppose some one came out and saw us? +It would be all up then. They’d know we were +after the launch and they’d watch it. Or they +might get in and chase us and catch us.’</p> + +<p>This last possibility silenced Tim effectually. +He gave doubting approval to Pud’s plan, and +the latter, while Harmon worked the boat +slowly toward the turn, disrobed to his underclothes, +an operation extremely simple and +brief. Finally, with a last whispered injunction +to wait right there, no matter what happened, +Pud slipped soundlessly into the water.</p> + +<p>It was surprisingly chill for a moment, but +he stifled a gasp and let the current bear him +away. Now and then he worked a foot or a +hand, for his progress seemed to him aggravatingly +slow. The fact is that he was just a little +bit frightened, and when one is frightened the +moments have a way of lengthening dreadfully. +The skiff disappeared from his sight and the +white shape of the launch drew closer. The +cabin was hidden from him by the bank, but, +as he floated onward, the sound of voices +reached him now and then. He kept to the +darker water near the margin and, as a result, +once became momentarily snarled in a submerged +branch. Then the bow of the launch appeared<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_207"></a>[207]</span> +at arm’s length and he let himself along +the white side until he could reach up and grasp +the gunwale amidship. There he paused and +listened, his heart beating hard.</p> + +<p>The voices from the cabin came to him +louder, but still as no more than hoarse rumblings +too faint to identify as those of Cocker +and Lank. Slowly and with difficulty, since he +sought to make no noise, Pud drew himself +from the water and, with an anxious look at the +cabin, some fifteen paces distant, squirmed +into the launch and dropped, wet and panting, +out of sight. Presently he wormed forward, +past the bundle of folded cots and tent that +still lay against the engine casing, and groped +for the line that was holding the launch to a +stake driven in the top of the bank. He regretted +then that he had not thought to bring +his knife. The stake was ten feet from where he +lay stretched on the bow planking, while to +cast off at the launch meant losing a good +thirty feet of manila rope. He tried pulling the +launch’s nose closer to the stake, but he gained +but a scant two feet before it grounded. There +was nothing for it but to pull the rope through +the brass-rimmed hole, work it loose at the +cleat and go off without it. He raised his head +and looked toward the cabin as his hands +fumbled with the line, and as he looked a sudden<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_208"></a>[208]</span> +glare of light shot toward him. The door +had opened, voices were plainly distinguishable +and, against the yellow light, framed in the +doorway, were figures.</p> + +<p>‘Well, I’ll get going,’ said a voice that Pud +recognized as that of the tall Lank. There was +a yawn, interrupted by a second voice, one +strange to the listener.</p> + +<p>‘You tella heem he not to go up da riv’,’ said +the voice. ‘It is not safe, you tella heem.’</p> + +<p>‘Yeah, I’ll look after that,’ answered Lank. +‘He knows he’s got to work down-river this +time. Well—’</p> + +<p>Pud, for the moment frozen with fright, now +did the first thing that entered his head. He +squirmed down, lifted the canvas of the tent +and, the frame of a cot digging into his ribs, +huddled closely, silently beneath it. His heart +was beating a dozen times to the second and +he thought regretfully of the safety of the +dark water flowing alongside. But it was too +late now, for he could hear the steps of Lank +close at hand. Then the launch tipped and the +man’s feet landed close to Pud’s head. A faint +light, probably, Pud thought, from his or Tim’s +electric torch, shone for an instant under the +edge of the canvas. Then it disappeared and, +behind him, Pud heard the wheel turned. Suddenly +the engine started, shaking the boards<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_209"></a>[209]</span> +against which the boy was lying, and Lank’s +feet brushed the canvas as he passed to the bow. +There was a whistled tune, broken by mutterings +and the sound of feet scrambling from +shore to boat, and the flap of a dropped rope. +Then Lank went back to the engine and Pud +felt the launch swinging as the current dragged +it away from the bank. The propeller revolved, +stopped, started again, the clutch grinding +harshly in the silence. Then, the boat evidently +headed downstream, the voyage began.</p> + +<p>Lank, it seemed, was steering from the seat +beside the engine, working the rudder with a +hand on the wire rope where it passed him, a +feat that Pud had once attempted with almost +disastrous results. After a minute or two, +though, he arose and came scuffling forward, +and then it was that Pud’s heart, which had +already threatened to cease functioning several +times that evening, just plain stopped business! +For the edge of the canvas scarcely a foot from +his frightened eyes was lifted!</p> + +<p>He heard Lank grunt with the effort of bending, +and he gave himself up for lost. But in the +next instant something heavy and bulky was +forced against his chest, prodded further with a +kick of the man’s foot, the canvas flap fell again +and Pud’s heart, with a painful thump, decided +to beat again!</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_210"></a>[210]</span></p> + +<p>After a moment of revulsion that left him +faint, Pud gathered sufficient courage to ease +his hands forward and feel inquiringly of the +object reposing under his chin. It was a bundle +about a foot square tied with stout twine. Pud’s +curiosity ended, but not his concern. Presently, +perhaps, Lank would come after the bundle, +and if he did what was to prevent him from +throwing back the canvas and exposing the +doubled-up form of one Pud Pringle? Or he +might in fumbling around in the darkness get +hold of a bare foot; and Pud felt that in such an +event Lank would be sufficiently curious to see +what was attached to the foot! Pud stared +venomously if unseeingly at the bundle. The +only thing that occurred to him was to thrust +it farther away until a portion of it showed beyond +the canvas. So, perhaps, Lank would see +it and not go fumbling around too much. Pud +was glad to get it away from the immediate +vicinity of his nose, for it had a strong and not +too pleasant odor, an odor that aroused in +Pud dim memories connected with unpleasant +events. For want of a better occupation, and +perhaps to keep his thoughts from apprehensive +speculation as to the outcome of this adventure, +Pud strove to connect that odor with +the memories it evoked, and while the launch +chugged steadily on down the stream, and<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_211"></a>[211]</span> +Lank whistled plaintively and not unmelodiously +from near by, he frowningly bent his +mind to its task. And suddenly—Eureka!—he +had it!</p> + +<p>Memory lifted a curtain and Pud saw himself, +with Tim close by, in the job-print room at +the back of the <i>Courant</i> office in Millville. It +was extremely hot and the sun made golden +squares on the old green shades that were +pulled partly down at the open windows. Before +him, and before Tim, was a pile of printed +circulars, and between them were long white +boxes into which they pushed envelopes containing +the circulars that, with the aid of +wooden rulers, they had first thrice folded. This +was the price they had had to pay for the trip +in the <i>Kismet</i>. The circulars, recently from the +press, still smudged if you touched the print +with your hand, and from them, nauseatingly +strong in the hot room, came the odor of +printer’s ink! And it was printer’s ink that +Pud smelled now.</p> + +<p>Again he felt of the package, lifted an end of +it experimentally, and decided that here, too, +were circulars, and, so deciding, lost further +interest. Just so long as he didn’t have to fold +the pesky things and thrust them into obdurate +envelopes they meant nothing in his life. Nothing, +at least, unless, searching for them,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_212"></a>[212]</span> +Lank found a fifteen-year-old boy, clad only in a +cotton union-suit, instead!</p> + +<p>Perhaps ten minutes had passed, perhaps +twenty, when Pud realized that the launch was +running more slowly. A light flickered past +above the bank and faint sounds reached him; +a dog barked far off, another answered from +startlingly close; a rooster crowed in a tentative, +half-hearted way; a man’s voice shouted +from nearby; the discordant strains of a concertina +grew louder. More lights peeked under +the edge of the canvas, the launch’s engine +stopped abruptly, the sound of laughter took +its place amongst the medley of noise and there +was a slight bump and a rasping sound as the +launch sidled up to a landing. Pud’s heart +began to do double-time again, he pushed the +bundle farther into the open and made himself +smaller than ever.</p> + +<p>Lank was stepping ashore with the bow line +now, and now he jumped back again, close to +Pud’s place of concealment. Pud waited in an +agony of suspense. The man didn’t pass on, +nor did he fumble along the edge of the canvas. +Finally, or so Pud’s straining ears told him, +there was a sound that might have been +‘Humph!’ and the feet moved on past Pud’s +head. Then the launch tilted a bit, steps +sounded on a plank and Pud knew that he was +once more alone!</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_213"></a>[213]</span></p> + +<p>He lay still several long moments and then, +pushing the bundle softly out of his way, he +slowly thrust his head forth and peered about +him. There was enough light from the stars +and from the cabins that clustered closely +along both sides of the stream to show him +that, save for himself, the launch was empty. +He scrambled out from under the dusty folds +of the tent and looked cautiously over the edge +of the boat. It was a strange scene that met his +eyes.</p> + +<p>The launch was fast to a small landing that +jutted a few feet beyond the bank. Straight +back from it stood a building from whose wide-open +doorway streamed the yellow light of +several lamps hanging from the ceiling of the +room into which Pud stared. The place was +evidently both a store and a residence, for +through a second door the end of a bed was +visible, while along one side of the front room +ran a counter at which a half-dozen men were +lounging. Behind it shelves held a small amount +of groceries: Pud could see the colored labels +on cans and boxes. Much loud talk and laughter +came from the little store. It might be, Pud +reflected, that more things than groceries passed +across that counter. He thought he could distinguish +the tall, broad-shouldered Lank among +the customers, but he was not certain.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_214"></a>[214]</span></p> + +<p>Pud had no doubt about this place being +Swamp Hole, and seen as he was viewing it, +with the board and slab cabins and little shanty-boats +dotting the banks of the creek, the light +of candle or lamp falling from doorway or window, +with a tall and somber pine pointing up to +the starlit sky here and there like a black sentinel, +it seemed indeed to deserve its evil reputation. +Farther down the stream a fire was burning +redly in front of a cabin and dark forms +passed about it, throwing huge and grotesque +shadows athwart the glare. At short intervals +along each bank small wharves jutted over the +black water and punts and skiffs were numerous. +Unseen to Pud, two men discussed the +launch from the black shadows of the farther +bank.</p> + +<p>‘’Tain’t nary boat I ever seen. Stranger in +here, ’tis, Bud.’</p> + +<p>‘Right nice-lookin’, too. Who you reckon +run it in here? You see any one get off’n it?’</p> + +<p>The concertina began a new tune and a +woman’s voice, shrill and wailing, joined it. +Some one in a near-by cabin beat protestingly +on a tin pan. A thin, bent-shouldered, bearded +man came along the path that followed the +bank, paused a few yards distant to inspect the +launch, and then went on toward the store, +straight along the lane of mellow light that<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_215"></a>[215]</span> +shone from doorway to wharf. ‘Where’d that +there power-boat come from?’ he drawled as +he reached the threshold. ‘I seen a boat mighty +like that yesterday up on—’ The rest was +lost to Pud.</p> + +<p>The time for action had come. Already the +stern of the launch was turning slowly out into +the stream. Pud clambered up and loosed the +line and scuttled back to the shadows of the +boat. It seemed an age before the current +stirred the launch, but at last it began to slip +silently away from the tiny landing. Peering +over the edge, Pud could see the top of the bank +move slowly past him. The launch was floating +almost broadside to the stream, but gradually +it straightened out, its bow pointing down the +creek. Too late, Pud reflected that he might +almost as easily have taken to the water again +and pushed the launch upstream until out of +sight and then started the engine, in which case +he would have got back to Tim and Harmon +quickly enough. Now he would have to keep +on down the creek, trusting to luck to find his +way into Two-Pond Run.</p> + +<p>But all that was for the future. Just now, +crouching at the bow, listening with loudly +beating heart for sounds that would announce +that Lank had discovered his loss, Pud was +concerned only with the present. Already the<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_216"></a>[216]</span> +sluggish current had borne him a good fifty +yards and the sounds from the store came to +him subdued by distance. Other sounds took +their place; low voices from doorsills, snatches +of wavering song, a man’s voice raised in +maudlin anger, the querulous wailing of a baby. +He was nearing the outdoor fire now and the +ruddy light was blotching the still water ahead. +That the launch would pass unseen was too +much to hope for, and he debated whether to +remain concealed or to show himself at the bow. +The question was settled for him.</p> + +<p>‘Hey, Pap, look yander! A big boat!’ It was +the shrill voice of a small boy.</p> + +<p>‘Power-boat, ’tis,’ grunted the father. +‘Where’d it come from, you reckon, Cal?’</p> + +<p>‘I d’know, Pap. Ain’t ary soul in it, be +there?’</p> + +<p>‘Don’t look like. Must have slipped its line, +eh?’</p> + +<p>‘Want I should fetch it?’</p> + +<p>‘Naw, what for? Let them as owns it come +arter it.’ The speaker chuckled maliciously. +‘They’ll be along soon enough, I reckon.’</p> + +<p>The launch floated silently by and into the +welcome darkness beyond the fire’s radiance. +The sound of oars ahead brought Pud’s eyes +above the bow. A small punt was creeping upstream, +the man who was rowing unaware of<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_217"></a>[217]</span> +the other craft. Pud turned the wheel quickly +to avoid a collision, and the faint squeak of the +ropes brought the rower’s head around sharply. +A volley of oaths broke the silence as the two +boats scraped past. Then from back up the +creek came a loud shout.</p> + +<p>‘Hey! Some one grab that launch! Launch +adrift down-creek!’</p> + +<p>‘Here she be! I’ll fetch her!’ The man in the +punt, already a length astern, spun his small +craft about and dug his oars. Pud stood up +desperately.</p> + +<p>‘You keep away!’ he called threateningly. +‘This is my boat!’</p> + +<p>‘Hallo!’ The man in the punt evinced surprise +and for a moment stopped rowing. Then, +‘Reckon you’re stealin’ her,’ he grunted. +‘Better come along back with her.’ The punt +bumped into the stern of the launch and, armed +with an oar, the occupant began to scramble +aboard.</p> + +<p>‘I’m not stealing her!’ protested Pud. ‘You +keep off!’</p> + +<p>He started back toward the stern. His foot +found something that turned beneath it, almost +upsetting him. Stooping, his hand closed +on the boat-hook, no longer trailing astern but +back in its former rôle of general nuisance. But +it was no nuisance just now, for, holding it before<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_218"></a>[218]</span> +him, <a href="#i_frontispiece">Pud charged toward the enemy.</a> The +man, a squat form in the darkness, was steadying +himself preparatory to jumping down from +the stern planking. Perhaps if he had not been +burdened with the oar he might have recovered +his balance sooner, but as it was he was in no +position to stand the thrust of Pud’s weapon. +There was a grunt, a loud splash, the rattle of +the falling oar against the punt and, for an instant, +silence. Then the man’s head came up +and, between puffings and gurgles, he pursued +the vanishing launch with venomous oaths. +A minute later Pud heard him scrambling over +the side of the punt. A final raking fire of profanity +followed, and then oars creaked against +thole-pins again, the creaking diminishing +momentarily, and Pud knew that he had won +the action. Breathing hard, but exultant, he +dropped the boat-hook and sprang to the engine. +Up the stream the shouting continued, drawing +nearer each second.</p> + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_219"></a>[219]</span></p> + +<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XVII">CHAPTER XVII<br> +<small>MAROONED!</small></h2> +</div> + + +<p>Tim and Harmon watched Pud until the bend +of the stream intervened and then, somewhat +dejectedly, nosed the skiff to the bank and sat +there in silence for a while. As usual, mosquitoes +and gnats were numerous and bloodthirsty, +but the boys had to an extent become inured +to them and only when the pests invited slaughter +by attacking their faces did they trouble to +combat them. They sat sidewise, their feet on +the seats they occupied to keep them out of +the inch or two of water that covered the floor +of the punt. The position was not extremely +comfortable, and after a while Tim announced +that he was going to get out onto the bank. +Harmon followed, with Pud’s clothing, and tied +the painter to a bush. There was a small space +bare of shrubbery from which, by leaning forward, +they could see the light in the cabin. +Tim had just drawn attention to this fact when +they heard the sound of the launch’s engine. +They became tense as they listened. It stopped, +began again. Then it became steady and its +sound dwindled.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_220"></a>[220]</span></p> + +<p>‘He’s got it,’ exclaimed Tim, ‘but he’s going +downstream!’</p> + +<p>‘How-come he do that?’ inquired Harmon.</p> + +<p>‘Maybe she was headed down and he couldn’t +turn her. How’s he going to get back here?’</p> + +<p>‘Reckon he goin’ find him a wide place an’ +turn her roun’ and shoot back quick!’</p> + +<p>‘Yes, and they’ll shoot quick, too!’ said Tim +anxiously. ‘Can you hear her now, Harmon?’</p> + +<p>‘Yes, she still a-hummin’, but she long ways +off.’</p> + +<p>They waited. A half-hour passed, an hour. +Then they forgot to keep track of time. The +sky cleared magically and a million glittering +white stars looked down on them. Tim gave up +hope at last. ‘They got <em>him</em>,’ he concluded +sadly. ‘That’s what happened. Maybe they +killed him, Harmon!’</p> + +<p>‘They mighty mean-lookin’ pair,’ agreed +the darky amiably.</p> + +<p>‘Well, my gracious goodness!’ exclaimed +Tim, outraged. ‘You don’t sound like you +cared if they had!’</p> + +<p>‘Who ain’ carin’? ’Course I is! Mister Pud’s +mighty fine boy. But, shucks, I don’ reckon +they really <em>kill</em> him. Maybe they pirate him.’</p> + +<p>‘Well, I’d like to know what we’re going to +do,’ said Tim despondently. ‘I’m hungry, and +it’s getting cold, and my feet are wet—’</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_221"></a>[221]</span></p> + +<p>‘How-come we don’ build us a fire?’</p> + +<p>‘Because they’d see us and come after us.’</p> + +<p>‘They ain’ no light there now. I reckon they +done gone to bed, Mister Tim. ’Sides, how they +goin’ get us? They’s on ’at side of the creek +and we’s on this side, an’ they ain’ got no boat, +is they?’</p> + +<p>‘N-no, maybe not, but they could swim +across, couldn’t they? Or they could shoot +us!’</p> + +<p>But after another ten minutes of shivering +discomfort the fact that the cabin no longer +showed a light convinced even the cautious Tim +that a fire would be permissible.</p> + +<p>‘I goin’ build it down in ’at there hollow +yonder,’ said Harmon, ‘and no one ain’ goin’ +see it nohow.’</p> + +<p>Fuel was not easily come by, but after some +search Harmon gathered enough to start with. +Fortunately, in his position of cook he carried a +box of matches in the pocket not sacred to his +mouth-organ, and presently from the hollow +between two hummocks, a not overly dry place, +a cheerful ruddy light sprang. Tim approached +it warily, mindful of snakes, of which they had +seen many during the last two days. Harmon +continued his quest for dry branches while +Tim huddled close to the fire and, in its warmth, +began to see life less darkly. Harmon joined<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_222"></a>[222]</span> +him finally and they talked of food. Harmon +craved a couple of fat pork chops and lots of +gravy. Tim’s thoughts dwelt fondly on roast +lamb and potatoes roasted whole with the meat. +He became almost lyrical in his description of +the golden-brown surfaces of those potatoes, +and Harmon’s eyes grew large and round as +Tim pictured the juice trickling from under the +carving knife as it sliced into the lamb!</p> + +<p>But there wasn’t much lasting pleasure to be +derived from such vain imaginings and presently +the conversation swung back to Pud and once +more they exchanged theories. It might be, +they agreed, that he had captured the boat and +was going down until he could get back into +Two-Pond Run and ascend that stream to +where they were waiting. But Tim feared that +such a journey would take Pud to Swamp Hole, +and he had little faith in his chum being able to +escape from that dread spot with his life—to +say nothing of the launch!</p> + +<p>‘How-come they so bad in ’at there Swump +Hole?’ asked Harmon.</p> + +<p>‘I guess they’ve always been that way,’ said +Tim. ‘The way I heard it, Harmon, is like this. +When they were fighting the Civil War, a long +time ago, there were some men around here who +didn’t want to fight. So they packed up and +went back in River Swamp and hid out there<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_223"></a>[223]</span> +where no one could find them. When folks went +after them, they’d hide in the bushes and shoot +at ’em, or maybe they’d just get in their boats +and sneak around these creeks until the folks +that were hunting them got tired and went +away again. Well, after a while the war got +over and those men just settled down in Swamp +Hole and had families and everything, and then, +I guess, other folks heard about it and came, +too. Anyway, my father says there’s more than +fifty families in Swamp Hole, and they don’t +send their kids to school or pay taxes or anything +like that.’</p> + +<p>‘Huh,’ said Harmon, ‘mus’ be mighty ign’nt +folkses!’</p> + +<p>‘’Course they are. Guess that’s one reason +they’re so bad. They’re poor, too, and maybe +that’s another reason.’</p> + +<p>‘Poor folkses ain’ bad,’ objected Harmon.</p> + +<p>‘N-no, but folks that are awfully poor and +ignorant, <em>too</em>, sometimes are.’</p> + +<p>Harmon didn’t challenge that. Instead, he +asked: ‘How they live, Mister Tim?’</p> + +<p>‘I don’t know. Some of them raise a few +things; tobacco, for instance. And they do a +lot of fishing.’</p> + +<p>Conversation died for a space. Then Harmon +asked, ‘When you reckons we goin’ get home +again, Mister Tim?’</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_224"></a>[224]</span></p> + +<p>‘Home!’ said Tim bitterly. ‘Gosh, it doesn’t +look as if we’d <em>ever</em> get home!’</p> + +<p>‘I’s jus’ ’bliged to be there Monday mornin’, +please, sir,’ persisted Harmon anxiously. ‘I’s +got me a ’gagement with Mister Tom Pawling +to cut his lawn, and Mister Tom’s pow’rful +uppity if’n I ain’ keep my ’gagements!’</p> + +<p>‘I wish I was at home right now,’ said Tim +longingly. ‘My goodness gracious, there isn’t +any <em>sense</em> in this! Sitting out here in an old +swamp without any supper or any bed! Gosh, I +wish I was in my own bed this minute.’</p> + +<p>‘Ain’ ’at the truth?’ agreed the other +sympathetically. ‘Folkses is always wantin’ be +where they ain’. Some time when I’s lyin’ all +wrop up warm in my own bed I’s goin’ say to +myself, “Lawsey, ’at certainly was one fine ol’ +time me an’ Mister Tim have ’at night we was +in the swump sittin’ roun’ li’l’ ol’ fire an’ +talkin’!” Yes, sir, I’s certainly goin’ say ’at +very thing!’</p> + +<p>‘Humph,’ grunted Tim with a perceptible +lack of enthusiasm. ‘It won’t ever bother me +any to be wrapped up warm in my own bed!’ +He shivered. ‘And if I ever do get home again,’ +he added emphatically, ‘I’ll be satisfied to stay +there! Next time Pud Pringle gets me to go on +any old cruise with him—<em>What’s that?</em>’</p> + +<p>Tim broke off to start nervously at the sound<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_225"></a>[225]</span> +of a soft rustling in the bushes behind him. +‘Didn’t you hear it?’ he demanded, looking +around apprehensively. ‘Suppose it was a +snake?’</p> + +<p>‘No, sir, ain’ no snakes traipsin’ roun’ this +time o’ night, Mister Tim. They all in bed an’ +asleep. Reckon it was a turkle. Lots of turkles +in this ol’ swump.’</p> + +<p>‘You mean turtles. Anyway, I guess snakes do +crawl around at night, because I’ve heard them.’</p> + +<p>‘You is?’ Harmon’s tone held doubt. Then: +‘Mister Tim, was I ever tellin’ you ’bout +Sawyer Beeson an’ the rattlesnake?’</p> + +<p>‘No. Who’s Sawyer Beeson?’</p> + +<p>‘He’s a colored man what use’ to work with +my pa in the chair fac’ry. He ain’ livin’ roun’ +here no more. Please, sir, let me tell you ’bout +him an ’at rattlesnake.’</p> + +<p>‘Go ahead,’ said Tim, yawning.</p> + +<p>Harmon laid a couple of branches on the +small fire and hunched himself forward, hugging +his bare black knees. ‘This here Sawyer +Beeson was a mighty lazy, no-coun’ nigger, +Mister Tim. Times he’d work a li’l’ in the +fac’ry an’ times he wouldn’ do no work at all. +You knows Mister Sam Glendon ’at lives up at +the Park? Well, one time this Sawyer Beeson +was doin’ some sort o’ work for Mister Glendon +up at his house and Mister Glendon he say to<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_226"></a>[226]</span> +Sawyer, “Sawyer, you fotch me a rattlesnake, +an’ I pays you five dollars.” “My goodness, +Mister Glendon,” Sawyer say, “what you-all +wantin’ with a rattlesnake?” “I wants him for +a specimens,” Mister Glendon tell him. “You +go catch one an’ brung him to me ’live an’ I +hands you five dollars.”</p> + +<p>‘Well, sir, Sawyer was needin’ five dollars +’bout ’at time an’ so he ponders awhile. And +then he goes an’ gets him a gunny sack and +cuts him a forked stick and goes lookin’ for +Mister Rattlesnake. He clumb up on Coop’s +Hill where the water-tower’s at, but he ain’ fin’ +no snakes at all. Then he goes on back a piece +over roun’ ’at place where the ol’ quarry used +to be, an’ after a while he sees him a rattlesnake. +Mr. Rattlesnake ain’ doin’ nothin’ at +all but ’joyin’ the weather outside his home, +an’ he kin’ o’ sleepy, maybe. So Sawyer +Beeson he done crup up on ol’ snake an’—bam!—he +put ’at forked stick down over his +neck! Mister Rattlesnake he twis’ an’ he turn +an’ he flip an’ he flop, but ’twan’t no use at +all. Then Sawyer he spread out ’at there +gunny-sack an’ he say to Mister Rattlesnake, +‘You go on in there ’fore I busts you’ head for +you!’ Then he sort o’ eases up on ’at forked +stick an’ Mister Rattlesnake he crawls right +at ’at gunny-sack! First his head goes an’<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_227"></a>[227]</span> +then his middle an’ then his tail an’ then his +rattles, an’ when his button’s done out o’ sight +Sawyer he grabs up the gunny-sack quick by +a string what he’s got aroun’ the top of it and +he pulls it shut mighty sudden!</p> + +<p>‘’Twas a long ways back to town an’ Sawyer +he was mighty nigh dead by the time he gets +to Mister Sam Glendon’s. ’Cause, you see, +Mister Tim, he has to hold ’at there gunny-sack +clear away from him, like this, an’ his +arms gits powerful tired. He ain’ wantin’ ’at +snake to bite him through the sides of ’at bag. +No, sir! Lots o’ times he wants to lay ol’ +gunny-sack down, but he’s afraid he ain’t got +it tied right tight an’ he’s scared to do it. So +he keep on a-walkin’, changin’ arms mighty +frequent, an’ after a while he ’rives at Mister +Glendon’s. “I done fotch ’at snake you asks +me for,” he say. “Does I get me ’at five dollars?” +“You certainly does,” Mister Glendon +say. “Is he a big snake, Sawyer?” “Well, to +tell the truth, Mister Sam,” Sawyer tell him, +“he ain’ so powerful prodigious, sir, but he’s +the weightenes’ snake I ever carries, sir!” So +Mister Glendon he gets him a cage and opens +it and Sawyer he cuts the string of ’at there +gunny-sack an’ he drops it in the cage an’ they +waits for Mister Rattlesnake to come out an’ +say “Howdy.” But he ain’ show hisself, an’<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_228"></a>[228]</span> +after a-while Mister Glendon get him a stick +an’ poke ol’ bag around. But still Mister +Rattlesnake ain’ come out. So Mister Glendon +he lifts ’at bag up and shakes it an’ there ain’ +no snake there at all! No, sir, ’at ol’ Mister +Rattlesnake he jus’ crawl <em>under</em> ’at gunny-sack +’stead of <em>into</em> it, an’ all time Sawyer was pullin’ +it tight Mister Rattlesnake was a-lyin’ right +there laughin’ at him! Yes, sir, jus’ a-bustin’ +his sides, I reckon! Mister Glendon he done +give Sawyer two-bits ’stead o’ five dollars, +’cause, he say, the way Sawyer look when he +see they ain’ no rattlesnake, an’ he ’members +how he nigh wore hisself out carryin’ ’at gunny-sack +home, was wuth it!’</p> + +<p>Tim, whose eyes had closed more than once +during the leisurely narrative, chuckled sleepily. +‘It’s a good story, Harmon,’ he murmured. +‘Guess I’ll just lie down awhile and—’</p> + +<p>He didn’t finish the remark. He didn’t need +to. He was already asleep. Harmon placed +another branch on the flames, looked appraisingly +at the slender stock of fuel remaining and +shook his head. After a moment his hand stole +into his pocket and emerged with his mouth-organ. +He viewed it longingly and then glanced +at the slumbering Tim. After a period of +hesitation he shook his head again, replaced +the faithful instrument in his pocket and curled +himself up by the fire.</p> + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_229"></a>[229]</span></p> + +<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XVIII">CHAPTER XVIII<br> +<small>COUNTERFEIT MONEY</small></h2> +</div> + + +<p>Pud searched hurriedly, frantically in the +gloom for the handle that fitted into the fly-wheel +while the sounds of pursuit grew louder +and nearer. He found it at last, slipped it in +place, and heaved mightily. There was no response +from the engine. Then he remembered +that he had not switched the spark on. The +omission remedied, he turned the wheel again, +and this time the response was instantaneous. +The engine raced loudly. He peered forward, +saw that the launch’s head still pointed into +the stream and pulled the clutch lever back. +Then he hurried again to the bow and seized +the wheel.</p> + +<p>Now he dared an anxious look to the rear. +Lights moved along the bank and there was a +confusion of hails and shouts, but for the +moment he was not threatened with capture. +With the throttle wide open and the current +aiding, the launch slipped down the winding +stream at a good five miles an hour. Pud believed +that there were motor-boats of a sort +back there, but he doubted that any of them +could show much speed. Besides, it would take<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_230"></a>[230]</span> +minutes to get one started, and already he had +a fair lead. Cabins still showed their lights +along the way, but they stood farther apart +now. A smaller stream led off to the left, but +Pud paid it no heed. Then came a longish turn +in the creek, and presently, looking back, but +one solitary light met his view. Perhaps the +sounds of pursuit still kept up, but the engine +was chugging loudly and he could no longer +hear them. He heaved a deep sigh and sank +onto the seat beside the wheel.</p> + +<p>It was not difficult to follow the creek, for, +once away from the lights of Swamp Hole, it +lay before him quite plainly in the starlight, a +broadening path bordered by the black gloom +of its banks. The stars were reflected brightly +in its still depths as it led him on and away +from the Hole. As the minutes passed and no +sign of pursuit showed, his courage grew. Sitting +there in the bow he began to talk to himself +aloud.</p> + +<p>‘I told them they couldn’t get away with it,’ +he muttered. ‘I guess they know it now! No +one can steal my good old boat, I guess; not to +keep it! No, sir, not for very long they can’t! +I guess Lank’s pretty mad about now. I guess +he’s wondering what happened.’ Pud chuckled. +‘I’d just like to know what he <em>does</em> think! Bet +you he never will suspect I did it!’</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_231"></a>[231]</span></p> + +<p>He sort of wished he might somehow have +revealed himself to Lank before he got free. It +would have been decidedly satisfying to have +called back a defiance. Pud pictured himself +standing in the stern, shaking his fist at the +amazed Lank and shouting, ‘Ha, villain, what +think you now? Pud Pringle has come into his +own once more!’ Well, anyway, something like +that.</p> + +<p>Pud couldn’t see just how he could have done +that, though. He guessed it was better to get +the boat back than to have risked failure seeking +credit for the exploit. Besides, maybe Lank +and Cocker—and the other man who had +talked so funny—would feel more worried and +humiliated if they weren’t able to account for +the boat’s disappearance. Maybe they’d think +it was spooks! On the whole, Pud was pretty +well satisfied. He did wish, though, that he +knew whether the men had stolen the contents +of the lockers. There was no time to satisfy +himself on that point now, but, since they had +not taken the tent and the beds and the cooking-kit, +he didn’t think it likely they had disturbed +the things that were out of sight.</p> + +<p>The launch did what Pud believed to be a +mile without misadventure. She did strike a +snag once, but she broke through it without +damage to the propeller. Where the creek was<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_232"></a>[232]</span> +leading him he didn’t know, save that it must +eventually bring him either into Two-Pond +Run or Turtle Creek. Since leaving the Hole +he had, he reckoned, been going in a generally +southwesterly direction, and it seemed that +Two-Pond Creek must be somewhere ahead. +Once on that stream, he meant to double back +and rescue Tim and Harmon. He recalled their +plight with mingled sympathy and amusement. +Tim, he decided, would be complaining like +anything about now!</p> + +<p>More than once he caught sight of small +streams leading away from the one he traversed, +but he had no use for them, and it was not until +what seemed another mile had been left behind +that he was called on to choose between divergent +courses. Turning somewhat abruptly to the +left, he saw, as the boat swung, a sizable stream +leading away to the right. He stumbled back +and threw out the clutch, but by the time the +launch had slowed down the other opening was +far back. Perhaps it would lead to Two-Pond +Run, he reflected, but it looked in the darkness +rather as if it went back toward Swamp Hole. +Besides, it was much narrower than the stream +he was on, and it might peter out and lead him +nowhere. Half an hour later he was glad he had +not taken it, for then he came to a creek fully +as large as the one it entered, one that started<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_233"></a>[233]</span> +off in just the right direction. It wasn’t until +he had gone some distance along it that he discovered +that the current was flowing against +him!</p> + +<p>Dismay vanished, though, when he recalled +the erratic behavior of River Swamp waterways. +Even if he was going upstream he might +reach Two-Pond Run. Anyway, he would keep +on. He was tired now, and pretty sleepy, too, +and the rescue of his marooned companions +seemed far less urgent than it had earlier. +Nothing could happen to them, anyhow. Of +course they wouldn’t find it very pleasant, +spending the night up there in the hummocks, +and they’d be kind of hungry—Pud paused. +Gee, he was hungry himself, now that he came +to think of it! Still, he wasn’t nearly so hungry +as he was sleepy. He yawned widely.</p> + +<p>The dark water, star-sprinkled, continued +interminably between its banks, the latter now +patched with groups of trees that threw pockets +of blackness over the stream. Pud’s eyes closed +for moments at a time, but always he managed +to force them open in time to avoid running +aground. He blinked longingly at the pile of +canvas behind him. If he could only snuggle up +under there in warmth and darkness and go to +sleep! Warmth was becoming almost as desirable +as slumber, for, while his wet underclothes<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_234"></a>[234]</span> +had long since dried, the night was +growing chill with the damp coolness of the +swamp and he was beginning to shiver. There +were things he might put on, but he would have +to stop the boat to search for them in the lockers, +and rather than pause he huddled lower +under the gunwale and stared painfully ahead +in the hope of seeing Two-Pond Run appear.</p> + +<p>Presently he sighed with relief, for the stream +widened suddenly and then was lost in a larger +body of water. But his succeeding sigh was one +of disappointment. It was not the Run he had +found, but a pond somewhat larger than Turtle +Pond. He must have spent a quarter of an hour +chugging about it and straining weary eyes +along the shadowed margin for sign of a way +out. Twice he poked the launch’s nose into the +mud when what had looked like the mouth of a +stream proved only a shallow. But finally +perseverance won and he was going on once +more along a black, tree-bordered creek that +seemed to run almost at right angles to the +one he had left. More time passed. His head +nodded frequently, but it wasn’t safe to close +his eyes now even for an instant, for this stream +was far darker and turned continually to right +and left.</p> + +<p>Then he found himself in another pond, a +pond that was twice as large as the one he had<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_235"></a>[235]</span> +recently found his way out of, and he threw +out the clutch and stared discouragedly about +him. This settled it, he told himself. Had he +reached the Run, he would have somehow +pegged on, but to spend another age nosing +around the sides of a pond was beyond him. +He was sorry for Tim and Harmon, but they’d +just have to make out as best they could. As +for him, he was going to sleep!</p> + +<p>He dragged the anchor from the bow locker +and dropped it over, shortened the line and +made it fast, his hands all thumbs, and then +made his bed. The boat-hook, rescued by Lank +or Cocker from the water, again served him +well. He rested an end on each gunwale, draped +the folds of the canvas over it in the shape of a +tent and crawled beneath. But the canvas was +unsympathetic against his chilled body and he +stumbled out and searched the nearer lockers. +Luck was with him, for he found Tim’s gray +flannel shirt and a pair of trousers; whose, Pud +neither knew nor cared. Clothed in these garments, +he again sought the seclusion of his improvised +tent. This time, in lowering himself +to the floor, he came in contact with an uncomfortable +object that proved to be Lank’s +package. He thrust it out of the way, gathered +the folds of the canvas under his head as a +pillow and, with a long and delicious sigh, gave<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_236"></a>[236]</span> +himself to slumber. He was just floating blissfully +off when a disturbing thought came to +him. He hadn’t written to his folks that day! +Worse, the letter he had written yesterday still +lay in his jacket pocket, unposted! These reflections, +though, couldn’t keep him awake +long, and soon he was fast asleep.</p> + +<p>Had he known that the one letter posted by +him had, by one of those mistakes such as even +an efficient Post-Office Department sometimes +makes, been dispatched to Millersville instead +of Millville, and that it was not to arrive at the +little house on Arundel Street until the next +morning, he might have been kept awake two +minutes longer, but certainly no more than that!</p> + +<p>He awoke to an amber glow that offended his +eyes. For a moment he wondered dazedly +where he was. Then he turned his head and +snuggled back, his whereabouts a matter of no +interest. But it was more than the sunlight +striking through the faded brown canvas that +had disturbed him, and he was destined to +sleep no longer. There were sounds about him, +and then his tent was invaded and a lean +countenance with a grizzled mustache and two +keen brown eyes was bending over him. About +the same instant the boat-hook fell on one of +Pud’s ankles and he became very wide awake, +though sorely puzzled.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_237"></a>[237]</span></p> + +<p>‘Hello!’ said the lips under the grizzled +mustache.</p> + +<p>‘Hello,’ replied Pud vaguely. ‘What time—’ +But that inquiry didn’t seem just the right one, +and he changed it to: ‘What do you want?’</p> + +<p>‘Well, we might be wanting you,’ answered +the man. Two other faces appeared, a long, +tanned face, clean-shaven, and a somewhat +round face that held a wide smile. Pud thought +that they must find it rather uncomfortable to +be standing in the water like that, but when he +had attained a sitting position he found that +they were leaning over the side of a trim launch +lying alongside. That was both surprising and +interesting, and Pud climbed to his feet to have +a better look.</p> + +<p>‘What’s your name, youngster?’ pursued the +man who had spoken before.</p> + +<p>Resentful of the term ‘youngster,’ Pud was +taking his own time about replying when he +discovered two things almost simultaneously, +to wit; that the round-faced man wore the +uniform of the police, and that, as the speaker +leaned forward, a nickel badge, pinned close +to the arm-hole of his vest, was exposed to +view. Pud decided to forgive the term.</p> + +<p>‘Anson Pringle,’ he replied respectfully.</p> + +<p>‘What!’ The man leaned back and cast a +glance toward the bow of Pud’s launch. ‘What<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_238"></a>[238]</span> +are you doing in this boat, then? Where’s the +one you started out in? And what have you +done with the other boys?’</p> + +<p>‘I changed the name,’ explained Pud. ‘They—they’re +up there a ways.’</p> + +<p>‘No wonder we couldn’t get trace of the +<i>Kismet</i>,’ chuckled the policeman. ‘Say, kid, +why didn’t you write to your folks like they +told you to? Didn’t you know they’d be anxious?’</p> + +<p>‘I did write once,’ answered Pud. ‘Tuesday.’</p> + +<p>‘Well, they never got it,’ said the first man, +who it later appeared, was a sheriff. ‘They’re +pretty worried about you, Anson. So are the +other boys’ folks. Your father telephoned to +me last night about ten o’clock and we started +out early this morning to look for you. No one +had seen a launch called <i>Kismet</i>, but we found +an old chap at Corbin who remembered a boat +with two white boys and a negro in it. He had +the name wrong, though. What did he say it +was called, Tom?’</p> + +<p>‘<i>Vengeance</i>, I think.’</p> + +<p>‘This is it,’ said Pud. ‘It’s the <i>Vengance</i> +on one side and the <i>Jolly Rodger</i> on the other.’</p> + +<p>‘For the love of Mike! What’s the idea?’</p> + +<p>‘I couldn’t just decide which I liked best,’ +said Pud.</p> + +<p>There was a chuckle from the third occupant<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_239"></a>[239]</span> +of the police launch. He was looking to where +the skull-and-cross-bones flag, dropped by +Cocker, lay outspread near the stern. ‘Playing +pirate, I guess, eh?’ he inquired.</p> + +<p>‘Sort of,’ muttered Pud.</p> + +<p>‘Playing the dickens, you mean,’ observed +the policeman severely. ‘Worrying your folks +’most to death!’</p> + +<p>‘But I did write, I tell you! I wrote twice, +only the last letter didn’t get posted because we +lost our way and got up into Cypress Lake—’</p> + +<p>‘You did! Well, I’ll be switched!’ The sheriff +shook his head amazedly. ‘And found your way +out again, eh?’</p> + +<p>‘Well, two men came along and showed us +the way, and then they stole the launch and I +went and got it back and I was trying to find +Tim and Harmon, but I got so sleepy I couldn’t +go on, and so I stayed here, and—’</p> + +<p>‘Stole your launch, did they? Who were +they? How’d you get it back?’</p> + +<p>‘Hold on,’ said the policeman. ‘We’d better +take him in with us and go fetch those other +kids. He can tell us about that on the way. +Where’d you say you left them?’</p> + +<p>‘About a couple of miles this side of the lake; +where you turn off the Run to go into Swamp +Hole. You see, Lank and Cocker live along +that stream a ways, and—’</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_240"></a>[240]</span></p> + +<p>‘Those the men who stole your boat?’</p> + +<p>‘Yes, sir.’</p> + +<p>The policeman eyed the sheriff. ‘Who might +they be, Henry?’</p> + +<p>‘Don’t know. Sure the name wasn’t Hank? +There’s three-four Hanks up there.’</p> + +<p>‘No, sir, it was Lank. I don’t believe they +belong in the Swamp regular. Lank said they +were just visiting. He said they’d been fishing +when we met them, but they didn’t have any +lines or poles in the skiff.’</p> + +<p>‘What sort of looking men were they?’ asked +the third occupant of the police launch. He +appeared to take interest in the conversation +for the first time. Pud described Lank and +Cocker as well as he could.</p> + +<p>‘Cross-eyes, you say? And a long, crooked +nose? And might be all of six feet tall?’</p> + +<p>‘Yes, sir, I think so.’</p> + +<p>‘Know him, Kinsey?’ asked the sheriff.</p> + +<p>‘I wouldn’t be surprised. Sounds a lot like +Jim Thorbourn. Thorbourn served a term at +Joliet about four years back. Hasn’t been +heard of since that I know of.’</p> + +<p>‘Counterfeiting?’ inquired the policeman.</p> + +<p>‘Passing.’</p> + +<p>‘Well, he doesn’t answer the description of +any of the lot we’ve heard of,’ said the policeman.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_241"></a>[241]</span></p> + +<p>‘He might have passed the stuff out to them. +Son, did you see the place they live in?’</p> + +<p>‘Not very well. It was sort of dark then. It +was just a board cabin.’ Pud was trying to +piece things together in his mind. The word +‘counterfeiting’ seemed to suggest something +to him, but he couldn’t think what!</p> + +<p>‘Can you take us to it?’ asked Mr. Kinsey.</p> + +<p>‘I’m not sure,’ said Pud. ‘If I could find Tim +and—’ He stopped suddenly, staring wide-eyed +at the other.</p> + +<p>‘What’s wrong?’ demanded the man.</p> + +<p>Pud found his tongue. ‘Lank took a package +with him,’ he said slowly. ‘It—’</p> + +<p>‘What sort of a package?’ Mr. Kinsey asked +eagerly.</p> + +<p>‘Square. It smelled of ink. I thought it was +circulars.’</p> + +<p>‘Where’d he take it?’</p> + +<p>‘To Swamp Hole.’</p> + +<p>‘You been in there, too!’ cried the sheriff.</p> + +<p>‘Well, well, what did he do with it?’ pursued +Mr. Kinsey impatiently.</p> + +<p>‘Nothing,’ said Pud. ‘He left it. It’s here.’</p> + +<p>‘Here! Where? Find it, you young idiot!’</p> + +<p>At another time Pud might have resented the +title, but now he didn’t notice it. He was +searching hurriedly under the confusion of his +wrecked tent. Then he found the package, and<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_242"></a>[242]</span> +Mr. Kinsey, who had jumped down beside him, +snatched it out of his hands. He didn’t hurry +to open it, though. Instead, he turned it over +and over and studied it thoroughly. To Pud, +wildly impatient, he seemed to be the slowest +person he had ever met! Finally, though, Mr. +Kinsey took a penknife from a pocket and +severed the stout cord. The sheriff and the +policeman leaned curiously forward as the +coarse brown paper was removed. Then, as the +contents were exposed, the sheriff whistled +softly, eloquently. Pud’s eyes grew bigger and +bigger.</p> + +<p>There, in two neatly stacked piles, was more +money than he had ever dreamed of!</p> + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_243"></a>[243]</span></p> + +<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XIX">CHAPTER XIX<br> +<small>THE DESERTED CABIN</small></h2> +</div> + + +<p>‘Phoney?’ asked the sheriff.</p> + +<p>Mr. Kinsey lifted some of the bills from one +of the two stacks and riffled the edges with a +square thumb, nodding. These were tens; the +other pile held twenties. He passed one of the +oblong slips of crisp paper to the sheriff. ‘Rotten +job,’ he said contemptuously. ‘Wouldn’t +fool a child. Look at the lathe work! And the +threads, done with a fine pen; no silk there. +These are some of the same lot, Sheriff, as the +ones the banks picked up. I’d like mighty well +to know who made the plates. He must be a +fool to think he could get away with anything +as crude as that!’</p> + +<p>‘Well, now, I don’t know,’ said the sheriff +slowly. ‘I reckon if some one was to hand me +one of those I wouldn’t suspect anything wrong +with it. ’Course, if I was on the lookout for +queer money I might be leery.’ He handed the +bill to the policeman.</p> + +<p>‘I’d take it in a minute,’ said the latter, ‘if I +didn’t know there was bad ones around.’</p> + +<p>Mr. Kinsey smiled and shook his head. ‘It<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_244"></a>[244]</span> +will pay you to get a genuine bill and study it,’ +he said. ‘It’s a good thing to know what a real +ten-dollar bank-note looks like, Casey. Then +maybe you won’t ever get stung.’ He placed +the bill back and retied the package. ‘Want to +run up there, Sheriff, and look things over?’ he +asked as he climbed back into the other boat.</p> + +<p>‘Well, I dunno,’ was the reply. ‘Think there’s +enough of us?’</p> + +<p>‘Oh, there won’t be any trouble,’ answered +Mr. Kinsey. ‘They’ve skipped by this time. +I’d just like to look the place over. Might find +something that would help me a bit.’</p> + +<p>‘Well, if they’ve gone,’ objected the sheriff, +‘we’d better go back to town, maybe, and work +the ’phone.’</p> + +<p>‘No hurry. I’d rather find out who they are +first. I’m pretty sure about Thorbourn, but +this “Cocker” has me guessing. And there may +have been others in the gang.’</p> + +<p>‘There was one more,’ said Pud, and he told +about the man who ‘talked funny.’</p> + +<p>‘Italian, probably,’ commented Mr. Kinsey. +‘He was the engraver, I guess. Well, let’s go.’</p> + +<p>‘You come in here,’ directed the sheriff, ‘and +we’ll pick up your friends. Your boat will be +all right, I reckon, till we get back.’</p> + +<p>Pud obeyed, and the police launch, with Mr. +Casey in charge, jumped forward. That was,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_245"></a>[245]</span> +as Pud told himself, ‘some launch.’ It was long +and slender, with a sharp, high bow, and it +gleamed with white paint and mahogany and +shining brass. The engine was housed in a +compartment to itself, well forward, and beyond +that, perched on the bow deck, was something +concealed in a waterproof canvas cover +that engaged Pud’s curiosity tremendously +until he finally realized, with a thrill, that it was +a small machine-gun.</p> + +<p>To his surprise, the police launch, which bore +no name, but had the letters ‘L. P. D.’ painted +on the bow, turned almost instantly into a +broad creek which the sheriff told him was +Two-Pond Run.</p> + +<p>‘That’s Second Pond there, son; where you +spent the night. First Pond’s two miles below.’</p> + +<p>‘Gee,’ muttered Pud, ‘if I’d known that last +night—’</p> + +<p>‘Glad you didn’t,’ said Mr. Kinsey. ‘We +might not have found you at all. Suppose you +tell us about your run-in with those fellows, +Lank and Cocker. I’d like to get it straight.’</p> + +<p>So Pud began with their arrival at Corbin, +with Gladys Ermintrude aboard, and narrated +their adventures down to the evening before +when sleep had overtaken him. He had three +interested and, at moments, slightly incredulous +hearers.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_246"></a>[246]</span></p> + +<p>‘Son,’ said the sheriff solemnly, ‘you’ve got +a heap o’ pluck, and I’ll be gol-swizzled if you +haven’t got a head on your shoulders, too!’</p> + +<p>‘He’s got something else that’s better than +those,’ said Mr. Kinsey, ‘and that’s luck!’</p> + +<p>‘Aren’t you hungry?’ asked the sheriff +solicitously.</p> + +<p>‘Starved,’ laughed Pud.</p> + +<p>‘’Course you be! Tom, got anything to eat +aboard?’</p> + +<p>The policeman shook his head regretfully. +‘Afraid not,’ he said. ‘I don’t know, though, +Henry. Look in the little locker just back of +you. There might be some crackers.’</p> + +<p>There were! Only part of a carton, but Pud, +eating them ravenously, was sure they had +saved his life! There was plenty of cool water +in a copper tank with a little nickel faucet, and +he made a breakfast. While he ate, he listened +to the conversation of the others. He learned +that the sheriff’s name was Bowker, that Mr. +Kinsey was a detective of the Department of +Justice who had been sent to Livermore to find +the persons who had been flooding the country +thereabouts with counterfeit money, and that +the latter’s presence aboard the launch was +purely an accident. He had, it appeared, been +at Police Headquarters when Sheriff Bowker +had arrived to requisition the launch and had<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_247"></a>[247]</span> +added himself to the party. Pud learned, too, +many interesting facts about counterfeiters and +their methods. The thought that the somewhat +friendly Lank was in reality a desperate criminal, +one ‘wanted’ by the Federal Government, +stirred him considerably. Why, he and Lank +had talked together just like ordinary folks! +And, more marvelous still, he, Pud Pringle, +alone and unaided, had foiled the villain! <em>Gee!</em></p> + +<p>‘Getting nigh Cypress Creek, son,’ announced +the sheriff, breaking in on Pud’s reflections. +‘Maybe you better watch for those partners of +yours.’</p> + +<p>A minute or so later the launch slowed down, +swung gracefully to the right and nosed into the +smaller stream. Pud recognized the scene, although +the morning sunlight gave it a far +different aspect. Policeman Casey’s voice came +suddenly from the bow.</p> + +<p>‘There they are,’ he said. ‘One white and +one black. On the bank over there.’</p> + +<p>It was rather a sorry pair who sat on the rim +of the creek and kept watch over a dilapidated +rowboat. There had been no fire this morning, +and, as a matter of course, no breakfast, and +only within the last half-hour had the sun’s +warmth begun to drive the chill from their +bodies. But at sight of the launch they perked +up immediately, their delight tempered by<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_248"></a>[248]</span> +dubious surprise at the discovery that the boat +was not only a strange one, but one inhabited +by strange men. The discovery of Pud brought +relief, but at the next instant Tim saw the +uniformed officer and feared that his chum was +in the hands of the Law. Indeed, it took a good +while for Pud to convince Tim that he wasn’t, +and he hadn’t quite succeeded when, with the +outcasts aboard and the skiff tied astern, the +police launch came in sight of the cabin.</p> + +<p>‘You boys better stay here and keep out of +sight,’ said the sheriff, jerking his pistol holster +around to the front.</p> + +<p>‘Oh, they’ve gone,’ said Mr. Kinsey confidently. +‘Door’s wide open, you see. Let the +kids come if they want to.’</p> + +<p>So they all went, the three men well in advance, +and Tim, ever cautious, bringing up the +rear. But no hostile demonstrations greeted the +party as, leaving the launch well upstream, +they advanced through a thicket and at last +came to the edge of the small clearing. The +cabin was a ramshackle affair of weathered +planks and pine slabs, with a roof patched here +and there with pieces of tin or squares of tar +paper. There was a sagging porch in front, a +door and two windows. A third window looked +up the stream and a crazy brick-and-clay +chimney peered over the roof at them.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_249"></a>[249]</span></p> + +<p>Mr. Kinsey gave a hail, but there was neither +answer nor sign of life, and they went on, crossed +the rotting boards of the porch and entered the +cabin. It had probably never been commodiously +furnished, and perhaps what was left behind +was all there ever had been; two bedsteads +built against the walls, a rickety table, the remains +of a canvas camp-chair, and four home-made +stools. The cabin was divided by a +wooden partition into two rooms of unequal +size, the smaller of which had evidently served +as kitchen and dining-room and the larger as +sleeping- and living-apartment. There was a +two-year-old calendar tacked to a wall and a +litter of empty food containers, crusts of bread, +fragments of paper, and other rubbish lay +about.</p> + +<p>‘Flown,’ said Mr. Kinsey dryly.</p> + +<p>He peered about on the soiled floor, kicked +about among the rubbish, fumbled amongst +the ashes of the fireplace. Finally he brushed +his hands. ‘They didn’t leave much,’ he said +admiringly. ‘Plenty of ink on the floor over +there, and a strong smell of it still, but that’s +about all. Here’s where the press stood, +Sheriff.’ He pointed with a broad-toed shoe at +four spots on the worn floor. ‘Those are acid +stains yonder, by that window. They moved +out last night, I guess. You can see one or two<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_250"></a>[250]</span> +places where the press scraped between here and +the door. Must have had plenty of time, or +thought they had, for they cleaned up pretty +thoroughly. Took even the lamps, didn’t they? +Must have had a boat-load! Wonder where they +got that boat?’ He looked speculatively at the +sheriff.</p> + +<p>‘That’s so,’ said the latter. ‘You didn’t see +any boat besides your own here last night, did +you?’ he asked of Pud.</p> + +<p>‘No, sir, I’m pretty sure there wasn’t any.’</p> + +<p>‘Humph! Well, this Lank fellow probably +fetched himself back in one from the Hole. +Don’t seem like they could have got far, rowing, +does it?’</p> + +<p>‘Oh, I don’t believe they rowed,’ said the +Secret Service man. ‘There are motor-boats +about here, aren’t they?’</p> + +<p>‘Yes, but they aren’t much. Still, they might +have hired one—or stolen it, for that matter—at +the Hole. We might find out if a boat’s +missing. They wouldn’t tell us, though, like as +not. They’re pretty close-mouthed in there.’</p> + +<p>‘No harm asking, I guess.’ Mr. Kinsey gave +a last look about and moved toward the door +that gave from the kitchen to the back of the +cabin. It was closed, but unlocked, and they +all followed him out. There wasn’t much there; +a few yellowed bits of paper that told nothing,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_251"></a>[251]</span> +a scanty woodpile, some old tin cans, a broken-handled +shovel, the battered remains of a straw +hat. Mr. Kinsey made the circuit of the cabin, +passed through it again and went down the +short path to the creek. There were plenty of +footprints, but he did not, as Pud thought he +should have, produce a magnifying-glass and +tape-measure and study them in the manner of +the detectives of whom Pud had read. Instead +he gave them brief and unimpressed attention +and went on to the bank where the <i>Kismet</i> had +been tied up the night before. Here there were +signs of recent activity. The bank was torn +and trodden by many steps, and a gash in the +edge showed where something heavy had been +dragged across. The Secret Service man peered +long into the water, shading his eyes, stepping +this way and that.</p> + +<p>‘Thought I saw something down there,’ he +said at last carelessly, ‘but it’s only a snag. +Well, that’s all we can do here, Sheriff. We’ve +got to get our news somewhere else.’</p> + +<p>‘Didn’t learn a thing, eh?’ asked Sheriff +Bowker as they turned back toward the launch.</p> + +<p>‘Not much. I learned that they’d been printing +here, and I’m pretty well satisfied that the +plates were either engraved in that shack or +finished there. Those were acid stains all right. +I know what kind of a press they used and I<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_252"></a>[252]</span> +know that the third man, the one the boy said +talked funny, is a short, rather small guy; probably +not over five feet six, and’—he took something +from his pocket and showed it to the +sheriff—‘I know this is the brand of cigarettes +he smokes. Found it in the ashes in the chimney-place. +That doesn’t help much, of course, but +I’ve started on less. Besides, I know one of the +three already, and that’s enough to land them +all—some day.’</p> + +<p>The sheriff nodded. ‘I know,’ he said. ‘You +fellows generally get ’em in the end. But, say, +how’d you get at the Italian’s size and his +height, eh?’</p> + +<p>‘Well, the boy described the other two pretty +well. One tall and big-built, the other shorter, +but still average height, and heavy-set. Guess +maybe you didn’t notice those beds, did you? +Boxes, sort of, filled with marsh hay. One of +them was used by Lank and the fellow called +Cocker. You could see that easy enough. The +other was used by this Italian guy and there +was six or eight inches of the hay at the bottom +that had never been pressed down. That’s how +I figured his height. I got his size from the size +of his foot. His prints were all over outside +there. Wears about a six shoe, and has a high +arch.’</p> + +<p>The sheriff grunted. ‘Well, that’s clever,’<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_253"></a>[253]</span> +he allowed, ‘but I wouldn’t want to see a man +convicted on that sort of evidence.’</p> + +<p>‘Oh, that isn’t evidence. That’s only information +that may or may not come in handy +some day. Well, now let’s try this famous +Swamp Hole I’ve been hearing so much about!’</p> + +<p>Pud had a long story to tell and many explanations +to make while the police launch, her +powerful motor scarcely more than purring, +went on down the winding stream. But he was +favored with as rapt an audience as any narrator +could desire, and when he told of the short +and sharp engagement in which, with the +trusty boat-hook, he had repelled boarders, Tim +gasped admiringly.</p> + +<p>‘Gosh!’ he said.</p> + +<p>‘My golly!’ chuckled Harmon. ‘Reckon +you’s a pretty fine ol’ pirate, Mister Pud, after +all!’</p> + +<p>After that Pud brought events down to the +moment, exhibiting with Mr. Kinsey’s permission, +the amazing contents of Lank’s package, +at sight of which Harmon’s eyes stuck so far +out of his round black countenance that Pud +was momentarily uneasy lest they might not +get back again! And Tim was still questioning +when the launch glided around a bend and +Swamp Hole lay before them.</p> + +<p>Pud blinked. What he saw now was no more<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_254"></a>[254]</span> +like what he had seen last night than—well, +than daylight is like dark! Now the warm sunlight +bathed the scene; the tranquil stream reflected +the clear blue sky, the green banks, the +little cabins and shanty-boats, the clearings +about them, the garden-patches and tobacco-fields +beyond. Tall, straight pines and spreading +oaks threw patches of shadow over which +the morning dew still lay like a silver mist. The +cabins, roughly made though they were, looked +neat and homelike, and from most of them the +gray-blue smoke of morning fires still arose to +hover over the little village with a pleasantly +pungent odor. Nearly every habitation had its +small truck-patch behind. In some cases the +patches were of good size, and several held +strawberry beds in blossom and fruit. Tobacco, +already a foot high, stretched back over land +reclaimed from the swamp, its broad green +leaves bright in the sun. Among the plants the +growers were at work, men, women, and +children.</p> + +<p>In front of a cabin two women were fashioning +baskets of willow withes. Before another an +elderly, white-bearded man was making a +hickory chair. In front of the small store, in the +morning sunshine, a handful of Swampers, +sighting the approach of the strange launch, +ceased their gossip and lounged unhurriedly<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_255"></a>[255]</span> +down the path. Somehow, Pud felt a dim sense +of disappointment. This was not the Swamp +Hole of his imaginings. This was merely a +pleasant, peaceful, and peaceable little village +which no more suggested dark deeds and villainy +than Millville itself!</p> + +<p>Harmon, who, in spite of a brave front, had +been secretly alarmed at the prospect of bearding +the desperadoes of Swamp Hole, regained +his poise and put his head a little higher over +the edge of the boat. Protected by the presence +of a policeman in uniform, a sheriff, and a detective, +he could, he believed, show himself with +impunity. Tim was at once relieved and, like +Pud, disappointed. He guessed Pud hadn’t +done anything so startlingly daring after all!</p> + +<p>The police boat eased to the few posts and +old planks that served as a pier, and the sheriff +hailed one of the loungers cheerily. ‘Howdy, +Jeff! How you-all?’</p> + +<p>‘Fair to middlin’, Sheriff.’ The man addressed +was tall, lanky, very blue of eye, and +with tow-colored hair. He wore cotton trousers +and the remains of a blue calico shirt. Head and +feet were bare. He smoked a pipe as he ambled +nearer, followed by his companions, and slowly +let his gaze travel from one end of the launch +to the other.</p> + +<p>‘Say, Jeff,’ went on the sheriff, ‘we picked up<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_256"></a>[256]</span> +this skiff down yonder on the Run. Least, these +boys did. Thought it might belong to some o’ +you folks in here. Happen to know it?’</p> + +<p>Jeff viewed the skiff leisurely, walking back +along the path to obtain all particulars of its +appearance. The others viewed it likewise, in +silence. Finally, ‘Well, now I dunno as I do, +Sheriff,’ said Jeff. He spoke guardedly and +turned inquiringly to a neighbor. ‘You ever +see it afore, Joe?’</p> + +<p>Joe shook a large, shaggy black head, darting +a speculative glance at the sheriff. Other heads +shook, too.</p> + +<p>‘Well, might’s well take it along then,’ announced +the sheriff. ‘Reckon these boys can +find a use for it. Thought maybe, though, it +belonged in here. Saw one of your power-boats +down below when we came up. Reckon it was +yours, Tolliver, wasn’t it?’</p> + +<p>A squat, bent-backed man at the back of the +gathering looked startled, but shook his head +with some vigor. ‘’Twan’t mine, Sheriff. I +ain’t got me no power-boat now.’</p> + +<p>‘That so? Well, whose you reckon it was, +Jake? I’m plumb sure it was a Swamp Hole +boat.’</p> + +<p>The countenances of the group regarded him +blankly. Jake Tolliver shook his head again. +‘Reckon ’twan’t none of ourn, Sheriff. Ain’t<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_257"></a>[257]</span> +but three-four here, an’ they was all in creek +this mornin’.’</p> + +<p>‘Well, ’tain’t important. We’ll run along. +These young fellows got lost and their folks +sent me to bring ’em back. All right, Casey.’</p> + +<p>‘Sheriff,’ drawled Jeff, ‘I ain’t sure but that +there’s Tally Moore’s skiff, now I get me another +look at it. It sort o’ favors Tally’s. Hank, +you take a good look, will you? You recollec’ +that old skiff o’ Tally’s, don’t you?’</p> + +<p>‘Reckon that’s Tally’s,’ answered the man +addressed promptly and with no more than a +glance at the rowboat. ‘Heard him tell awhile +back as how he’d lost it.’</p> + +<p>‘Tally Moore?’ said the sheriff. ‘Don’t believe +I recall him, Jeff. Where’s his place?’</p> + +<p>‘’Round on backwater yonder. Second house +on farther bank. Reckon that’s his boat, +Sheriff. Reckon he’ll be powerful obliged to +you.’</p> + +<p>The sheriff nodded, waved good-bye. The +launch slipped forward again. The group about +the landing watched it silently, and along the +creek old folks and children in front of the cabins +or shanty-boats drawn back on the banks +stopped at their tasks or play to look as +silently.</p> + +<p>The sheriff chuckled. ‘I said it wasn’t any +use. They hate to answer questions. Wouldn’t<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_258"></a>[258]</span> +even say about the skiff till they was mighty +sure we wasn’t in here to make trouble.’</p> + +<p>‘Looked peaceable enough,’ commented Mr. +Kinsey.</p> + +<p>‘Yes, they’re peaceable enough so long’s you +don’t rile ’em,’ agreed the other tolerantly. +‘Don’t like strangers much; ’specially when +they happen to be collectin’ taxes. They’ve +got a mean way of shootin’ from cover, too. +Mighty difficult to tell where they’re located. +Ain’t much taxes goes out o’ the Hole! It ain’t +a right healthy job, sir, collectin’ in here. Some +o’ these fellows ought to be in jail, but, by and +large, they’re fairly law-abiding.’</p> + +<p>The backwater proved to be the stream that +Pud had glimpsed last night, turning off to the +left just past the last cabin on the creek-bank. +It was shallow and muddy and came to an end +not far distant where a cedar thicket massed +itself closely and darkly. There were three +cabins along it, one on the left side and two on +the right. Good-sized patches of tobacco or +corn flanked them and spread back for some +way. Getting to the last landing, a log raft tied +to stakes in the muddy bank, was skittish work +for the launch, but she finally came within hailing +distance of the small cabin and a shout +from the sheriff brought a thin, stooped, pale-faced +man around a corner of it.</p> + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_259"></a>[259]</span></p> + +<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XX">CHAPTER XX<br> +<small>TALLY MOORE TALKS</small></h2> +</div> + + +<p>‘Reckon you’re Tally Moore,’ said the sheriff +amiably.</p> + +<p>The man, pausing on the top of the low bank, +looked them over suspiciously. Finally his +gaze fell on the skiff, bumping astern, and his +faded eyes lighted a little. He nodded, as though +agreeing to something he was more than doubtful +of.</p> + +<p>‘Well, I’m sheriff up to Livermore. These +boys came across this skiff yesterday and Jeff +Gosling said he thought it belonged to you. If +so, here ’tis. ’Course,’ added the sheriff, laughing +jokingly, ‘you’ll have to prove your title to +it!’</p> + +<p>‘It’s mine,’ said Tally in a hoarse voice that +sounded much too large for his thin body. ‘Lost +it two-three days ago.’</p> + +<p>‘Lost it, did you? That’s funny now. The +men that had it said they’d hired it from you. +Maybe it isn’t the one, after all.’</p> + +<p>Tally Moore’s gaze shifted. ‘Well, come to +think of it, I did let them fellers take it. Said +they wanted a boat to fish in. I never seen ’em<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_260"></a>[260]</span> +afore, but they looked respec’able and I let ’em +have it. Strangers roun’ here, they was.’</p> + +<p>‘I see,’ answered the sheriff carelessly. +‘Reckon they lied to you, Moore, for they gave +the skiff to these boys here.’</p> + +<p>‘No, they didn’t,’ began the owner. Then +he stopped.</p> + +<p>‘Maybe they told you they didn’t,’ chuckled +the sheriff, ‘but the boys said they did. What +did they tell you now?’</p> + +<p>‘I ain’t seen ’em since,’ muttered Tally.</p> + +<p>‘I see.’ The sheriff’s gaze roamed along the +bank. Several stakes were driven into it at +intervals and two of them still held rusty chains +and padlocks. ‘Sort of left you without anything +to get around in, didn’t it?’ he asked.</p> + +<p>‘Brodie, over there, he lets me have his punt +when I want it,’ said Tally.</p> + +<p>‘Reckon you sold your motor-boat, too,’ the +sheriff mused.</p> + +<p>Tally’s eyes widened, then dropped quickly. +‘I ain’t had a power-boat for a good while,’ he +muttered.</p> + +<p>‘What do you call a good while?’ asked the +other, his eyes twinkling. ‘’Bout twelve hours?’</p> + +<p>‘Now, you look ahere,’ replied Tally querulously. +‘I ain’t goin’ answer no more fool questions. +I got my work to do, I have.’</p> + +<p>‘Won’t keep you much longer,’ said the<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_261"></a>[261]</span> +sheriff soothingly. ‘How much did you get for +the power-boat?’</p> + +<p>‘That’s my private affair,’ answered the man +with sullen dignity.</p> + +<p>‘Sure ’tis, sure ’tis! Just wanted to tell you +that whatever money those fellows paid you +ain’t worth a cent.’</p> + +<p>‘What you mean?’ demanded Tally in +alarm.</p> + +<p>‘Counterfeit.’</p> + +<p>‘What! Counterfeit? Sheriff, you mean +that?’</p> + +<p>‘Well, I mean they were printing the stuff up +on Cypress Creek. ’Course they might have +paid you in good money, but it don’t seem +likely. Haven’t got it handy, have you?’</p> + +<p>There was a moment’s hesitation on the part +of Tally. Then he turned and ran toward the +cabin. He didn’t go inside, though, but disappeared +around the farther corner. He was +gone several minutes.</p> + +<p>‘Got to dig it up, likely,’ said the sheriff. +‘’Twas his power-boat they got, all right, +Kinsey. Don’t reckon he was in with ’em, +though.’</p> + +<p>The Secret Service agent shook his head. +‘Too stupid, I guess,’ he agreed.</p> + +<p>Tally came back, panic in his colorless face. +‘Here’s what they gave me, Sheriff,’ he said<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_262"></a>[262]</span> +hoarsely. ‘Ain’t that good money?’ He yielded +the bills to the other. There were eighteen of +them. The sheriff sorted them into two lots; +two hundred dollars of crisp, new paper and +thirty-five dollars in old, creased bills. The +new notes he passed on to Mr. Kinsey.</p> + +<p>‘I reckon this thirty-five is all right,’ said the +sheriff, ‘but that new stuff—’ He looked +questioningly at the Secret Service man. The +latter was already folding the bills and putting +them into his pocket.</p> + +<p>‘Counterfeit,’ he said briefly.</p> + +<p>‘You give ’em back here!’ cried Tally. +‘Good or bad, stranger, it’s my money!’</p> + +<p>‘You hold your horses, Moore,’ said the +sheriff. ‘Phoney money belongs to just one +person, and that’s Uncle Sam. This here’s Mr. +Kinsey, of the United States Secret Service.’</p> + +<p>Tally stared open-mouthed. Then he swallowed +hard. ‘You mean I don’t get nothin’?’ +he faltered.</p> + +<p>‘I wouldn’t wonder a mite if you got your +boat back,’ answered the sheriff.</p> + +<p>‘The skunks!’ broke out Tally angrily. He +found worse names then, and mingled ugly +oaths with his excited ravings until the sheriff +silenced him.</p> + +<p>‘Moore,’ he said, ‘if you want we should get +your power-boat back for you, you’d better tell<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_263"></a>[263]</span> +us the truth about the business. Here’s your +thirty-five. How comes it they paid you that +much in real money?’</p> + +<p>‘That was first off,’ answered Tally hurriedly +in his hoarse tones. ‘That was for the +skiff. I sold it to ’em, good an’ all. They was +two of ’em come along about three weeks past. +Strangers they was. Wanted a boat for fishin’ +an’ offered me thirty for mine. I told ’em +thirty-five an’ they paid it. I didn’t see ’em +again till last night. Then one of ’em, the tall +feller, comes here ’bout ten o’clock an’ gets me +out o’ bed. Wants to buy the power-boat an’ +we haggles awhile an’ he finally pays me two +hundred dollars, the—the—’</p> + +<p>‘Never mind that,’ soothed the sheriff. ‘Two +hundred was quite a price, I reckon, Moore. +Must have wanted it bad, I’d say. Then +what?’</p> + +<p>‘I come down here an’ unlocked that padlock +yonder and started it for him and he went off, +the dirty—’</p> + +<p>‘And that’s the last you saw of him? Or the +others?’</p> + +<p>‘Yes,’ Tally hesitated. Then he added, ‘I +heard ’em, though.’</p> + +<p>‘Heard them, eh? How’s that?’</p> + +<p>‘’Bout two o’clock, I reckon ’twas. I couldn’t +get to sleep again after he’d waked me up, an’<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_264"></a>[264]</span> +I was lyin’ in the cabin when I heard the power-boat +comin’ down the creek. I’d know that +engine anywhere, Sheriff. One of them cylinders +ain’t never spit just right. I heard it go by the +end of the backwater yonder and keep on downstream.’</p> + +<p>‘About two o’clock, you say?’</p> + +<p>‘Nigh’s I could tell. Reckon I’d been lyin’ +there awake more’n three hours. Sheriff, I +needs a boat powerful. You goin’ to let me +have my skiff back, ain’t you?’</p> + +<p>‘’Course I am. You can have it for no more’n +you sold it for.’</p> + +<p>‘’Tain’t worth thirty-five dollars,’ said +Tally indignantly. ‘’Tain’t worth more’n ten, +I reckon.’</p> + +<p>‘Oh, yes, it is. Call it thirty and you can +have it.’</p> + +<p>Tally shook his head. ‘Twenty, Sheriff,’ he +offered.</p> + +<p>‘Not a cent less than thirty. Want it?’</p> + +<p>‘No! ’Tain’t worth it. I can buy Brodie’s +punt for fifteen.’</p> + +<p>‘All right. Anything more you want to know +from this man, Kinsey?’</p> + +<p>‘I don’t think so. I want to tell him, though, +that I could cause his arrest for having counterfeit +money in his possession, and that I’m likely +to do it if he doesn’t stick right around here in<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_265"></a>[265]</span> +case I need him to identify those men later. +Get that, Moore?’</p> + +<p>‘I’ll be right here, sir,’ Tally assured him +earnestly.</p> + +<p>‘Now,’ said Sheriff Bowker, when the launch +was once more making its way down the creek, +‘we’ll put you boys aboard your boat next. +Casey, you know the short way to the Run +from here?’</p> + +<p>‘Don’t believe I do, Henry.’</p> + +<p>‘Well, it’s first to your right. It’s a sharp +turn, sort of hidden. I’ll watch for it.’</p> + +<p>‘Mr. Bowker,’ said Pud, ‘does that skiff belong +to us?’</p> + +<p>‘Well, now, I don’t know.’ The sheriff +rubbed his nose reflectively. ‘Maybe it does, +Anson. Why?’</p> + +<p>‘I was just thinking that we’d rather have +had that twenty dollars he offered,’ answered +Pud.</p> + +<p>‘Oh, that’s it? Well, now, look here, son. +That boat’s worth thirty if it’s worth a cent. +Tell you what you do. You take it back up to +Millville and see can’t you sell it there.’</p> + +<p>‘I’d rather have the boat,’ declared Tim. +‘It’s a pretty good one, Pud. All it needs is +calking and painting.’</p> + +<p>‘We-ell,’ agreed Pud doubtfully. ‘Maybe it +will be kind of fun to have a rowboat handy.’</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_266"></a>[266]</span></p> + +<p>‘Ain’ ’at the truth?’ observed Harmon +solemnly.</p> + +<p>Pud and Tim exchanged glances. Here was a +complication. It was plain that they would +have to acquire Harmon’s interest, if he possessed +any. Pud wondered if he did. Although +at the start of the expedition, Harmon’s status +had been that of a menial, Pud felt that he had +since then attained to equality. Yes, beyond a +doubt Harmon belonged, and, belonging, owned +a third—well, anyway, a part of that skiff!</p> + +<p>They took the turn that Pud had passed by +the night before and almost at once debouched +into Two-Pond Run. It was annoying to reflect +that had he taken it, too, he would have +found Tim and Harmon without difficulty. +Still, in that case perhaps he wouldn’t himself +have been discovered by the police launch, and +if he hadn’t he would have missed all the exciting +incidents of the morning.</p> + +<p>‘You reckon they went on out, don’t you?’ +the sheriff was inquiring of Mr. Kinsey. ‘’Tain’t +likely, I suppose, they’d maybe run up around +into Little Fox or Marsh Creek.’</p> + +<p>‘Not a bit,’ was the reply. ‘When this fellow +Thorbourn saw his boat going off down the +stream last night, he must have figured that the +jig was up. Maybe he didn’t know who was in +it, Sheriff, but he did know he’d left this bundle<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_267"></a>[267]</span> +of the queer in it, and I guess he figured that +River Swamp wasn’t healthy any longer. We’ll +find they’ve made for the railroad, I guess. +Some one’s bound to have seen that motor-boat +between here and Corbin.’</p> + +<p>‘They could get the train at Corbin,’ said the +sheriff.</p> + +<p>‘Not without being seen by too many folks. +They want to save the press and the plates. If +they hadn’t, they’d have destroyed them back +there, Sheriff. I thought maybe they had. +Thought I might find them in the creek. But +they hadn’t. Took them with them and will +look for new headquarters somewhere. I +wouldn’t be surprised if they’d gone right on +down the river to Mumford.’</p> + +<p>The <i>Kismet-Jolly Rodger-Vengance</i> was just +where they had left her an hour and a half +before, and the boys were soon transferred. The +skiff was untied from the police launch and +made fast to the stern of the other. Pud was +none too cheerful about the change, for he would +vastly have preferred staying with the sheriff +and Mr. Kinsey and the round-faced Mr. Casey +and sharing in the further pursuit of the counterfeiters, +but that, of course, was out of the +question.</p> + +<p>‘Reckon,’ said the sheriff, ‘you can’t get lost +going down, boys. Follow the Run straight<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_268"></a>[268]</span> +south, past First Pond, and you’ll come out at +The Flat. Then it’s two miles, about, to Corbin. +And, say, when you get there, if I was you +I’d stop and telephone your folks. I’ll get word +to them, too, but I reckon maybe they’d like +to hear from you personal.’</p> + +<p>‘All right, sir,’ agreed Pud. ‘And thanks for +finding us, and everything. And I hope you’ll +catch the counterfeiters.’</p> + +<p>‘Well, this gentleman here’ll have to worry +about that,’ chuckled the sheriff. ‘But from +what I hear of his crowd, those counterfeiters +haven’t got a chance! You expecting to get +back home to-night?’</p> + +<p>‘Gee, I don’t know,’ answered Pud. ‘I guess +it’s too far, though.’</p> + +<p>‘Well, maybe ’tis. Anyway, you talk to your +folks and fix it all right with them, son. And, +say, if you stop at Livermore going up, come in +and see me. Any one’ll tell you where to find +my office. Maybe I mightn’t be in, but if I was +I’d be glad to see you and show you ’round a +bit. What say, Casey?’</p> + +<p>The policeman was beckoning secretively +and the sheriff tramped forward and held a +whispered conversation with him. Once Pud +heard him exclaim ‘Well, I swan!’ in rather +amazed tones, and, having exclaimed, he +turned to view the occupants of the adjoining<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_269"></a>[269]</span> +boat with a new and peculiar interest. Pud +felt slightly uncomfortable. Perhaps Mr. Casey +had been told about that rooster that had made +a breakfast for them four days previous! But +the sheriff was chuckling now, chuckling and +nodding to Mr. Casey. Then, clearing his +throat, he said: ‘Anson, I reckon you’d better +make a point of stopping in and seeing me before +you go on home. There’s—er—well, +now, there’s certain formalities that ought to +be attended to. Being mixed up in this matter, +more or less, maybe you’d ought to make an +affidavit or something, eh?’</p> + +<p>Pud agreed, somewhat puzzled. Tim’s +countenance showed that he didn’t hold with +affidavits and would much prefer not having +anything further to do with the Law.</p> + +<p>‘Yes, well, now,’ went on Sheriff Bowker, ‘you +see me at my office this afternoon or to-morrow +morning. Don’t forget!’</p> + +<p>‘No, sir, we won’t,’ answered Pud with scant +enthusiasm.</p> + +<p>‘Better not,’ said Mr. Casey, smiling broadly. +‘It’s going to be to your advantage, boys, as +the advertisements has it!’</p> + +<p>‘Yes, that’s so,’ chuckled the sheriff. ‘Well, +see you later, then. Let her go, Casey.’</p> + +<p>Good-byes were exchanged and the police +launch surged away, churning, and fled down<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_270"></a>[270]</span> +the stream, her wash breaking against the bank +in miniature waves. Pud and Tim waved as +long as it was in sight and then, with one accord, +jumped toward the locker that held food!</p> + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_271"></a>[271]</span></p> + +<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XXI">CHAPTER XXI<br> +<small>MR. LISCOMB IS GRATEFUL</small></h2> +</div> + + +<p>The return voyage began at twenty minutes to +ten o’clock. At eleven they made The Flat, +and, as Pud swung the launch’s nose toward +the outlet of the river, they looked toward the +end of the nearer island. There were two fishermen +there. One was clad in khaki trousers, a +cotton shirt, and a wide-brimmed, sugar-loaf-crowned +straw hat. He was bent motionless at +the end of a weathered old punt, and beside +him on the seat, apparently no less intent on +the business in hand than his master, sat a +yellow hound.</p> + +<p>‘Gee,’ murmured Pud, ‘I wonder if he’s been +there ever since!’</p> + +<p>They did the two miles to Corbin in quick +time, the current aiding, and tied up at the +dock where they had stopped before. To Pud +was delegated the not altogether pleasant task +of communicating by telephone with Millville, +and he set off with little relish for the nearest +drug-store. Fortunately, Lank and Cocker had +not found the small cardboard box in which +Pud kept his money. Probably they would<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_272"></a>[272]</span> +have made a thorough search of the launch in +the course of time, had it remained with them, +but, as it was, they seemed not to have even +looked into the lockers. Anyhow, the money +was safe, and the fact made it possible for Pud +to telephone without the necessity of reversing +charges. Even so, it required all of ten minutes +to get his house in Millville. Then his mother’s +voice came to him, quite as if she were just +around the corner of the prescription counter, +instead of thirty-odd miles away as the crow +flies!</p> + +<p>‘Pud, dear, is that you? Are you sure you’re +all right? Your father just telephoned that +they’d found you. Where <em>have</em> you been? +Didn’t you know we’d be worried to death at +not hearing a single word from you?’</p> + +<p>‘Well, but, Mother, I <em>did</em> write! I—’</p> + +<p>‘Yes, I know, dear. It just came this morning, +that letter. It had been missent to some +other place. You know, dear, you don’t write +very carefully sometimes. And there was a +letter from your Great-Aunt Sabrina, too, telling +how you caught the robber that night. She +wrote quite a lengthy letter, and sent a piece +from the Livermore paper that praises you up +wonderfully! I think it was most heroic, Pud, +dear, and you must tell me all about it when +you get back. Are you coming home to-night?’</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_273"></a>[273]</span></p> + +<p>‘Gee, ma, I don’t see how we can! We’ve got +to stop in Livermore and see the sheriff there. +Say, was Aunt Sabrina mad about us staying +in her house that night?’</p> + +<p>‘Why, no, of course she wasn’t! She was +just awfully thankful, I suspect, that you were +there. My, she’d have been heartbroken if the +thief had taken her silver, Pud!’</p> + +<p>‘Well, he was going to take it, all right,’ responded +Pud. ‘He had it all dumped in a bag +and—’ Just then a voice broke in to remind +him that he had talked three minutes and he +ended hurriedly. ‘Back to-morrow afternoon, +sure, Ma! Sorry you were worried. Yes’m! +Yes’m! Good-bye!’</p> + +<p>Well, that hadn’t been so bad, after all, he +reflected, mopping his perspiring brow as he +backed from the booth. And the Livermore +paper had had a piece about them catching the +robber! Gee, that was great! He hurried back +to spread the news to Tim and Harmon. Tim +said they could maybe buy a copy of the paper +when they got to Livermore. They bought +enough gasoline to get them back to Millville +and enough food to last them much farther! +But they had missed two meals, and none of +them were quite certain that they’d ever get +thoroughly caught up!</p> + +<p>Pud figured that they’d have to do about<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_274"></a>[274]</span> +nineteen miles before they reached Livermore +again. It was twenty minutes to twelve when +they cast off at Corbin, and if they averaged +five miles an hour they should reach Livermore +by four. They debated the question of making +a return visit to Aunt Sabrina. Tim was in +favor of it, but Pud, despite the fact that Aunt +Sabrina was doubtless grateful to them, displayed +no enthusiasm. Besides, there was +Harmon. Aunt Sabrina would undoubtedly +view Harmon askance. She was, as Pud recalled, +convinced that negroes were invariably +thieves. She might allow him to sleep in the +stable, but even that was uncertain. On the +whole, Pud decided, it would be better to camp +somewhere below the town and not bother +Aunt Sabrina. Tim accepted the verdict with +a sigh. Probably now he never would taste +that lady’s cocoanut cake!</p> + +<p>Various well-remembered landmarks met +their gaze as the launch chugged down the Fox, +but it seemed a week rather than three days +since they had last viewed them. Tim found +the branch up which they had fled from the +kidnapers and pointed it out, getting a disgusted +‘Humph!’ from Pud. It was mid-afternoon +when, having lunched to repletion, Pud’s +still rather torpid gaze lighted on something +ahead and to the right that had a strangely +familiar look. Then he remembered.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_275"></a>[275]</span></p> + +<p>They were back at the clearing where they +had rescued Gladys Ermintrude, and there, +just as they had last seen it, was the faded green +shanty-boat, with, as Pud uneasily discovered +the next moment, smoke issuing from the stovepipe +in its roof. The river was wide enough to +let them pass well distant, and Pud instantly +swung the launch’s bow toward the farther +side. The tumble-down wharf, farther along, +peered around the corner of the shanty-boat +and Pud set his gaze on it and wished it were already +abeam. Tim, too, had now recognized +the scene and drew Pud’s attention.</p> + +<p>‘<em>S-sh!</em>’ Pud whispered, motioning for silence. +‘They’re in there!’</p> + +<p>‘Oh!’</p> + +<p>Then a spot of color appeared on the shanty-boat’s +narrow deck, a hand waved, and a +friendly ‘Oo-hoo!’ came to them.</p> + +<p>‘It’s Gladys Ermintrude,’ said Tim eagerly.</p> + +<p>‘Well, what if it is?’ inquired Pud coldly, refraining +from joining the other in signals of +response.</p> + +<p>‘Oo-hoo! Come on over!’ called Gladys +Ermintrude.</p> + +<p>Pud scowled. If only she had stayed inside +a minute or two longer! Tim said, ‘Let’s see +what she wants, Pud.’ Pud hesitated, muttered, +and swung the launch across the stream. ‘All<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_276"></a>[276]</span> +right,’ he said as they neared the shanty-boat +and Gladys Ermintrude, ‘only don’t blame me +if—if something happens!’</p> + +<p>‘Hello,’ said Gladys Ermintrude gayly as +they came close.</p> + +<p>‘Hello,’ replied Tim.</p> + +<p>‘Hello,’ echoed Harmon from the stern.</p> + +<p>‘Huh,’ muttered Pud, and viewed her suspiciously. +Then he turned his suspicions toward +the interior, wondering whether the girl +had been, as before, the sole occupant of the +cabin. Gladys Ermintrude was explaining that +she had been back there for two days and was +having a perfectly glorious time.</p> + +<p>‘Huh,’ said Pud. ‘What you been doing?’</p> + +<p>‘Oh, lots of things,’ answered the girl +brightly. ‘Fishing and hunting and—’</p> + +<p>‘Cooking,’ supplied Pud. ‘Your ma said +you were a good cook.’</p> + +<p>Gladys Ermintrude accepted the tribute +with unconcealed delight, to Pud’s vast astonishment. +‘Well, I just am,’ she declared. +‘I made the grandest cake yesterday!’</p> + +<p>Tim’s eyes grew luminous and he moistened +his lips.</p> + +<p>‘I wish you’d come then instead of to-day. Pa +and Uncle Asa ate the last of it this morning.’</p> + +<p>Tim’s eyes gloomed and he sighed. Tim had +a notable weakness for cake.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_277"></a>[277]</span></p> + +<p>‘I suppose,’ observed Pud, foiled in his first +attempt to create confusion, but determined +still, ‘you’ll be going into moving pictures this +fall.’</p> + +<p>‘Moving pictures? Oh, my, no! What a +funny idea!’</p> + +<p>‘I’ll say so,’ agreed Pud heartily, ‘but it was +your idea and not mine. You said you were +studying to be a screen star, didn’t you?’</p> + +<p>‘Did I?’ Gladys Ermintrude’s gaze wandered +afar. ‘How very strange. I simply don’t remember—’</p> + +<p>From beyond the open window came a sudden +sound that might have been a short cough. +It had its effect on all who heard it. Pud +grasped the wheel again and darted a meaning +look at Tim. Tim’s hand moved toward the +fly-wheel. Harmon stared in solemn suspicion. +Gladys Ermintrude laughed lightly and continued +rather hurriedly:</p> + +<p>‘Yes, I do remember now. I did say something +like that, didn’t I? But of course it was +merely—merely a childish fancy.’</p> + +<p>‘Gee,’ said Pud, ‘you’re full of childish +fancies, aren’t you? Like fancying you were +kidnaped and that your name was Gladys +Evinrude and—and—’</p> + +<p>‘Aw, Pud,’ murmured Tim deprecatingly.</p> + +<p>‘Well, she did—is! She told a lot of whoppers<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_278"></a>[278]</span> +and made goats of us, didn’t she? Had us +chasing up and down the river in the dark +and—’</p> + +<p>‘Oh, well,’ said Tim, ‘what of it? It was sort +of fun, I guess—’</p> + +<p>‘I don’t tell “whoppers,” Pud!’ declared the +girl heatedly. ‘Maybe I did let you think +things, but—’</p> + +<p>‘Think things! Gee, I suppose we “thought” +you were kidnaped before you told us! Didn’t +you say, right there where you are now, that +you’d been kidnaped from your happy home +and that—’</p> + +<p>‘Why, sakes alive! How ever can you think +up such outrageous stories? I’m sure I never +said I’d been kid—’</p> + +<p>Another sound from within!</p> + +<p>‘<em>Start her up!</em>’ whispered Pud hoarsely.</p> + +<p>‘Well, maybe I did say so,’ corrected Gladys +Ermintrude flurriedly, ‘but—but I’m sure I +didn’t mean to make any trouble—’</p> + +<p>‘Aw, that’s all right,’ muttered Tim. ‘You +mustn’t mind Pud. He just—’</p> + +<p>Then, as he turned the wheel over and, having +failed to put the spark on, got no response +from the engine, appalling sounds came from +the shanty-boat’s interior, sounds that were +unmistakably those of heavy footsteps, and, +before the alarmed Tim could try the engine a<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_279"></a>[279]</span> +second time, a tall figure appeared behind the +lesser form of Gladys Ermintrude! It was a +man who confronted them, a tall, wide-shouldered, +bearded man. Pud’s heart sank. +This was undoubtedly the ‘grateful’ Mr. Liscomb!</p> + +<p>‘Well, boys,’ said the apparition in a surprisingly +pleasant, deep voice that, because of +its striking similarity to hers, placed him instantly +as Gladys Ermintrude’s father, ‘we +meet at last!’</p> + +<p>To Pud’s surprise, Mr. Liscomb was smiling +in a very friendly fashion, and, seen close-to, +was not at all the desperate-looking person +Pud had thought him. Just the same, Pud’s +suspicions were not wholly quieted, and, although +he cleared his throat, no words came. +At least, not from Pud; nor yet from Tim nor +Harmon. Gladys Ermintrude, though, still +had the power of speech.</p> + +<p>‘Yes,’ she was saying, ‘these are the boys +who were so very kind to me, Father. This is +Pud and that one’s Ted—no, Tim, and that’s +Harmon back there. Harmon cooks wonderfully, +Father.’</p> + +<p>‘Does, eh? Well, Tibbie, if I had a wonderful +cook I’d look after him better. They’ve let +him sit out in the sun until he’s all tanned up!’</p> + +<p>Pud and Tim smiled embarrassedly, but<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_280"></a>[280]</span> +Harmon gave the joke full value and exploded +into ‘Yeah! Yeah! Yeah!’ Then he as suddenly +subsided into silent solemnity. Mr. +Liscomb chuckled and, one arm over his +daughter’s shoulders, turned his gaze back to +Pud.</p> + +<p>‘You look mighty familiar to me,’ he said. +‘Live around here, Pud?’</p> + +<p>‘No, sir, Millville,’ Pud managed.</p> + +<p>‘Millville? Guess I don’t know any one in +Millville. What’s the rest of your name?’</p> + +<p>‘Pringle,’ said Pud. ‘Anson Pringle.’</p> + +<p>‘Anson Pringle? Then your father’s Pringle, +of the <i>Courant</i> up there! You’re Anson Pringle, +junior, eh?’</p> + +<p>‘I suppose so,’ allowed Pud. ‘Folks call me +Pud, usually.’</p> + +<p>‘Well, well! Why, I know your father, son, +know him right well. Both newspaper men, +you see. I’m assistant editor of the Corbin +<i>Journal</i>. You tell him you met Bill Liscomb, +will you? Tell him you ran off with his girl!’ +The speaker chuckled, and Pud ventured a +doubtful grin.</p> + +<p>‘She said—’ he murmured. ‘I mean, you +see, we didn’t understand—exactly—’</p> + +<p>‘Oh, that’s all right, Pud! You don’t need +to apologize. Here’s the culprit right here.’ +He gave Gladys Ermintrude a hug. ‘She’s a<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_281"></a>[281]</span> +pretty good sport, boys, but she’s got an +imagination about ten sizes too large for her, +and she reads too many silly stories and sees +too many foolish movies. But we’re going to +change all that, aren’t we, Tibbs? We’re going +to cut out the novels and most of the movies +for awhile, eh?’</p> + +<p>Gladys Ermintrude assented readily, even +gayly.</p> + +<p>‘Yes, we had a little—ah—conference the +other day after she got home and she promised +to be more careful of her statements. She’s +going to get the upper hand of that powerful +imagination of hers pretty soon. I wouldn’t be +surprised if, after a while, she got so you could +believe every word she tells you!’</p> + +<p>‘Why, Father!’ murmured the girl in shocked +tones. ‘How can you speak so before strangers?’</p> + +<p>‘Oh, I guess they can stand it,’ her father +chuckled. ‘Which way are you boys heading? +Down the river, eh?’</p> + +<p>‘Yes, sir,’ answered Pud, ‘we’re going home. +We’re going as far as Livermore to-night.’</p> + +<p>‘I’ll bet you’ve had a fine time, too. It’s a +wonderful thing to get away into the quiet of +the woods and streams for a few days now and +then!’</p> + +<p>‘Yes, sir,’ agreed Pud, wondering if the word +‘quiet’ was just the right one!</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_282"></a>[282]</span></p> + +<p>‘Wish I could ask you-all to stay and have +supper with us,’ went on Mr. Liscomb genially, +‘but I guess we’d be rather crowded, and I’m +not too sure we’d have enough for all hands. +Sort of depends on what my brother brings +home when he comes.’</p> + +<p>‘We—I guess we’d better not,’ said Pud. +‘Thank you very much, sir.’</p> + +<p>‘Not at all. Glad to have you if you want to +take a chance. I feel sort of indebted to you for +the way you looked after this young lady, boys. +Mighty fine of you to do it. My regards to your +father when you get home, Pud. And good +luck to you!’</p> + +<p>Gladys Ermintrude waved as long as they +were in sight. So did Tim. Pud had a somewhat +thoughtful look when, presently, Tim +came forward and seated himself.</p> + +<p>‘I suppose,’ said Pud after a moment, ‘it’s +sort of a habit with her.’</p> + +<p>‘What is? Who?’</p> + +<p>‘Gladys Evinrude: telling those fairy stories +like she does. You know, Tim, I used to sort of—sort +of—’</p> + +<p>‘I’ll say you did,’ chuckled Tim.</p> + +<p>‘Well, I never told regular whoppers like she +does,’ Pud defended. ‘I never said anything +that wasn’t so, did I? Did you ever know me to +tell a lie?’</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_283"></a>[283]</span></p> + +<p>‘No-o, but—but, gosh, you can make folks +think things that ain’t so, Pud!’</p> + +<p>‘Sure. But I don’t tell lies. She does, you +might say. Only she doesn’t mean ’em to be +lies, I suppose. She—she’s fanciful. That’s +her trouble. I guess we oughtn’t to be too hard +on her, Tim.’</p> + +<p>‘Well, who was hard on her, I’d like to know? +I wasn’t!’</p> + +<p>‘I guess a fellow <em>can</em> see too many movies,’ +continued Pud thoughtfully. ‘That is, he can, +if he has a—an imagination to start with. I +guess I’ll cut them out, Tim.’</p> + +<p>‘All of them?’ asked Tim anxiously.</p> + +<p>Pud shifted uneasily on his feet. ‘Well, maybe +the right sort of pictures don’t do any harm,’ +he compromised. ‘Of course that Gladys Evinrude—’</p> + +<p>‘It isn’t Evinrude; it’s Ermintrude.’</p> + +<p>‘It ain’t either,’ chuckled Pud. ‘It’s Tibbie! +Anyway, what I was going to say was—was—’ +But Pud had lost the thread of his discourse, +and before he could pick it up again, Tim +spoke.</p> + +<p>‘Say, she looked kind of—kind of pretty +to-day, Pud.’</p> + +<p>‘Pretty?’ Pud considered briefly. ‘Well, I +guess maybe she looked better than she did +that other time, but she’s awfully skinny!’</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_284"></a>[284]</span></p> + +<p>‘I don’t think she’s skinny,’ defended Tim +warmly. ‘Of course she isn’t what you might +call <em>fat</em>, like—well, like—’</p> + +<p>‘She’s skinny,’ declared Pud flatly. ‘Say, I +wish I’d asked her one question, Tim, just one +question!’</p> + +<p>‘What’s that?’ inquired Tim.</p> + +<p>‘Because,’ chuckled Pud, ‘she’d have had to +tell the truth, with her father there and everything.’</p> + +<p>‘What question?’</p> + +<p>‘Why,’ Pud snickered, ‘whether he spanked +her or not! I’ll bet you anything he did!’</p> + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_285"></a>[285]</span></p> + +<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XXII">CHAPTER XXII<br> +<small>THE PIRATES RETURN</small></h2> +</div> + + +<p>They made surprisingly good time to the +mouth of Fox River and then covered six of the +seven miles that lay between that point and +Livermore in an hour and twenty minutes. It +certainly seemed as though the launch knew it +was going home and wanted to get there! It +was still only a little past four o’clock, and they +might have got back to Millville that night if +it had not been for their promise to call on the +sheriff. Of course, they would have had to finish +the voyage in early darkness, but Pud had done +so much night navigation that the thought +brought no dismay. But there was the agreement +with Sheriff Bowker to be considered, and +so, instead of keeping on past the city, they +looked for a place to spend the night.</p> + +<p>Tim didn’t think much of the idea of looking +up the sheriff, and said so more than once. +‘What’s he want to see us for?’ he asked. ‘We +told him all we knew, didn’t we? Suppose he +wants to put us in jail as witnesses. They do +that sometimes. Or suppose he heard about +that chicken! I say let’s go on home, Pud.’</p> + +<p>‘No, sir, we can’t do that. We promised.<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_286"></a>[286]</span> +Besides, that Mr. Casey said it would be to our—our +advantage, didn’t he?’</p> + +<p>‘Oh, gosh, they’ll say anything to get you in +their clutches, the police will!’</p> + +<p>‘The sheriff isn’t the police,’ said Pud. ‘He’s +different.’</p> + +<p>‘He arrests folks just the same, doesn’t he? +I don’t see much difference!’</p> + +<p>‘Well, you will. Anyway, we said we’d do it +and we’ve just got to, haven’t we?’</p> + +<p>‘I suppose so,’ replied Tim regretfully.</p> + +<p>The best they could discover as a tent-site +was the edge of a brick-yard, an unattractive +place littered with old cans and broken bricks +and exposed to the public view on all sides. +Indeed, a line of trolley cars buzzed past only a +short block distant. But they could see nothing +better, and they were rapidly approaching the +wharves of the town. So they put the launch +as close to the muddy shore as possible and +landed by means of the skiff.</p> + +<p>It was not until they had the tent ashore that +Tim asked abruptly: ‘Say, Pud, know what +day this is?’</p> + +<p>Pud had to think a minute, but he finally +said it was Saturday; adding, ‘What of it?’</p> + +<p>‘Then to-morrow will be Sunday,’ answered +Tim triumphantly, ‘and I guess even sheriffs +don’t go to business on Sunday!’</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_287"></a>[287]</span></p> + +<p>‘Gee, I wonder!’ exclaimed Pud. ‘But he +said we could see him either to-day or to-morrow, +didn’t he? Maybe he forgot about it +being Sunday, though.’</p> + +<p>‘I’ll bet he did. So what’s the good of stopping +here? He wouldn’t expect us to wait until +Monday, Pud.’</p> + +<p>‘No, but’—Pud looked at his watch and +then at a vanishing trolley car—‘but it’s only +twenty minutes past four. We’ll go and see +him now! It won’t take long to get there by +trolley, Tim!’</p> + +<p>‘Oh, gosh!’ muttered Tim.</p> + +<p>A few minutes later, leaving Harmon in +charge of operations, they went. A ten-minute +ride took them to their destination and a friendly +but curious conductor directed them. He had +wanted to know, when Pud had asked for the +sheriff’s office, if they were going to give themselves +up! They found the Court-House easily +and made their way along a corridor until a tin +sign over a glass-paneled door brought them +to a halt. Pud didn’t know whether to knock or +enter without knocking, so he compromised by +rapping his knuckles once and turning the knob +at the same instant. Tim followed inside looking +so much like a criminal that Sheriff Bowker +would have been justified in arresting him on +suspicion!</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_288"></a>[288]</span></p> + +<p>‘Well, hello, hello!’ greeted Mr. Bowker. +‘Come in, boys, and make yourselves at home!’ +He removed his legs from a corner of his desk +and arose to pull a couple of chairs forward +from the row that stood along one wall. ‘Well, +you got here pretty quick, didn’t you? I just +heard from—Wait a minute, though. I’d +better see if I can get Mr. Hosford. Maybe he’s +gone home a’ready, but if he hasn’t—’</p> + +<p>The sheriff took up the telephone and, while +Pud and Tim stared about the rather bare and +not too clean room, engaged in a brief conversation +with some one. The sheriff’s pleased announcement +into the mouthpiece to the effect +that ‘they’re here, if you want to see ’em’ +brought no joy to Tim. The conversation appeared +to satisfy the sheriff, though, for he +beamed when he had hung up again.</p> + +<p>‘Well, that’s all right,’ he declared, rubbing +his big hands together. ‘He’s coming right over. +Lucky you didn’t turn up five minutes later, for +he was just going home.’</p> + +<p>‘Who, sir?’ asked Pud.</p> + +<p>‘Mr. Hosford. He’s president of—never +mind now, though. He’ll be here in a jiffy. I +was going to tell you that I just got word from +Police Headquarters that Kinsey nabbed his +men about two o’clock, boys! Quick work, +eh?’</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_289"></a>[289]</span></p> + +<p>‘Really?’ exclaimed Pud. ‘Lank and Cocker +and—and the other one?’</p> + +<p>‘All three, and a boatload of stuff, too, he +says. They were in that power-boat of Tally +Moore’s down near Trowman’s Landing, this +side of Mumford. Reckon they were meaning +to go ashore there. I ain’t heard the particulars +yet. Well, I reckon Tally’ll be glad to get his +boat back.’</p> + +<p>‘Was there—was there any fighting, sir?’ +asked Pud.</p> + +<p>‘I didn’t hear. Kinsey had three men with +him, though, in the police launch, so I guess +those fellows didn’t kick up much. Quick work, +I’ll say!’</p> + +<p>‘Yes, sir,’ agreed Pud. ‘Gee, I wish I’d been +along! Wouldn’t it have been great, Tim?’</p> + +<p>‘Yes,’ said Tim. But somehow it sounded a +lot more like ‘No’!</p> + +<p>At that minute the door opened and a man +of about forty years entered briskly.</p> + +<p>‘Afternoon, Mister Sheriff! So these are the +boys, eh?’</p> + +<p>‘Yes, sir, here they are. Boys, this is Mr. +Hosford, president of the Chamber of Commerce. +Mr. Hosford, this is Anson Pringle, and +this is Timothy Daley. Anson’s pa runs the +<i>Courant</i> up to Millville. Maybe you know him.’</p> + +<p>Mr. Hosford regretted that he hadn’t that<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_290"></a>[290]</span> +honor as he shook hands with Pud and Tim. +Then he took the chair that the sheriff set for +him and smiled at his audience. ‘Well,’ he +said, ‘I guess we don’t have to make a ceremony +of this, young gentlemen. I’ve brought +the check with me and I’ll just hand it over, +with my congratulations.’ He put a hand into +an inner pocket and produced a long, slim oblong +of pale-green paper. ‘We made this out +to Anson Pringle?’ He looked inquiringly at +the sheriff. ‘That’s what you said, eh?’</p> + +<p>‘That’s right, Mr. Hosford. It was him that +had the bundle of money, so—’</p> + +<p>‘I don’t know what you mean,’ said Pud +faintly.</p> + +<p>‘Why, I’m talking about the reward,’ said +Mr. Hosford. ‘You knew there was a reward +of five hundred dollars offered, didn’t you?’</p> + +<p>‘I reckon he didn’t,’ laughed the sheriff. +‘We didn’t say anything to him, Mr. Hosford. +Thought we’d wait and—’</p> + +<p>‘You mean,’ gasped Pud, ‘that my father +offered five hundred dollars for—for me?’</p> + +<p>‘Well, hardly,’ answered Mr. Hosford, smiling, +‘although I dare say you’d be well worth +it. No, this reward was offered a week or so +ago by the Livermore Chamber of Commerce +and the banks for information leading to the +apprehension of the persons engaged in circulating<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_291"></a>[291]</span> +counterfeit bank-notes hereabouts. +Thought, of course, you knew about it. The +sheriff here and a Mr. Kinsey, sent by the Department +of Justice awhile back, assured us +that you had earned it and so—well, here it +is, my boy! And my congratulations go with +it!’</p> + +<p>Still dazed, Pud accepted the check, looked +at it vaguely, and then turned to Sheriff +Bowker. ‘You mean that—that it’s <em>mine</em>?’ +he asked incredulously.</p> + +<p>‘Sure is, Anson! Earned it, didn’t you? If +you hadn’t given the information you did, +they’d still be searching for those fellows, I +reckon.’</p> + +<p>‘Well, I must go along.’ Mr. Hosford again +shook hands with the boys, nodded to the +sheriff, said ‘Good-afternoon!’ and departed. +With the closing of the door behind him, Tim +darted from his seat.</p> + +<p>‘Gosh, Pud, let’s see!’ he stammered.</p> + +<p>Pud and he both looked then. ‘Livermore +Trust Company,’ they read. ‘Pay to the order +of Anson Pringle Five Hundred Dollars.’</p> + +<p>‘Gosh!’ said Tim in an awed voice. ‘What +are you going to do with it, Pud?’</p> + +<p>Pud shook his head helplessly. Then he +brightened as he exclaimed: ‘’Tain’t all mine, +you silly chump! It’s half yours!’</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_292"></a>[292]</span></p> + +<p>‘Mine!’ said Tim. ‘I guess not! What did +I have to do with it? You’re crazy!’</p> + +<p>‘I’m not either! I’ll leave it to Mr. Bowker +if—’</p> + +<p>‘Boys, you’ll have to leave me out of it,’ protested +the sheriff, waving a hand. ‘You’ll have +to settle whose it is between you, I reckon.’</p> + +<p>‘Well, it’s half his,’ declared Pud stubbornly, +‘and—say, Tim, we never even thanked +him!’</p> + +<p>‘You mean you didn’t,’ Tim corrected. ‘I +guess he understood, though, that you were +sort of—of flabbergasted, Pud.’</p> + +<p>Somehow in the next five minutes they said +good-bye to the sheriff, promised to call and +see him the next time they were in Livermore, +and found their way to the street. The idea of +taking a car back to the launch was utterly +repellent. There was too much to be said! So +they started back on foot, and when, at the +first corner, a telephone sign met Pud’s eyes, +he dragged Tim inside a store and disappeared +himself into a booth. He was out five minutes +later, flushed and triumphant.</p> + +<p>‘I got Dad, at the office,’ he proclaimed. ‘He +doesn’t believe it about the reward. He just +kept on saying, “Yes, yes, Pud, I know, I +know.” He thinks I’m joking, but when he sees +that check—’ Pud broke off to chuckle enjoyably.<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_293"></a>[293]</span> +‘I told him we’d be back by one o’clock +to-morrow, Tim, and he said he’d tell your father +when he went home.’</p> + +<p>They went on, taking up the discussion where +they had dropped it. Tim was very determined +not to share the reward and Pud was just as +determined that he should. The argument +lasted most of the way back to where they had +left the launch, and Tim’s consent was finally +obtained when Pud threatened to tear the check +up. ‘I will,’ he declared firmly; ‘I’ll tear it up +right now and stuff the pieces down that hole, +Tim! Why, gee, we were all in it! Why, it was +you who heard those fellows first that time up +on Cypress Lake. You said, “I hear a boat, +Pud,” and I said “Let’s shout,” and—’</p> + +<p>‘Oh, all right,’ said Tim, ‘only it doesn’t +seem fair. And as to me hearing that boat first, +I didn’t, Pud. It was Harmon.’</p> + +<p>‘Was it? Well, anyway—’ Then Pud stopped +abruptly. ‘Say, Tim, what about him, eh? Harmon, +I mean.’</p> + +<p>‘Gosh, that’s so!’</p> + +<p>They went on in thoughtful silence for a short +distance. Then, ‘He’s a pretty good guy, that +Harmon,’ muttered Pud. ‘He—he’s been +mighty handy, the way he’s cooked and—and +all!’</p> + +<p>‘Sure,’ said Tim. ‘Of course, in a way—’</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_294"></a>[294]</span></p> + +<p>‘Yes, I know that, but when you think of +it—’</p> + +<p>‘Sure! That’s what I meant!’</p> + +<p>‘Well, then, if we each give him twenty-five—’</p> + +<p>‘Yes, seems to me that would be fair,’ agreed +Tim readily. ‘Gosh, fifty dollars would be a +lot of money to Harmon!’</p> + +<p>‘You think we ought to give him more?’ +asked Pud anxiously.</p> + +<p>‘No, I don’t, Pud. I think fifty’s fair, don’t +you?’</p> + +<p>‘Yes, <em>I</em> do, but I thought maybe you thought +it wasn’t. He’s a pretty good fellow and I +wouldn’t like to feel that—that we weren’t +doing the right thing. There he is now. He’s +got the tent up, too! And I believe he’s started +getting supper! Say, won’t he be tickled +when—’</p> + +<p>‘Won’t he!’</p> + +<p>They started running.</p> + +<hr class="tb"> + +<p>It was well short of one o’clock the next day +when the launch poked its nose under the +bridge at Millville and chugged on toward +Andy Tremble’s boat-yard. Pud stood proudly +at the wheel, Tim officiated at the throttle, and +Harmon sat on the stern planking with his bare +feet on the seat below and observed the passing<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_295"></a>[295]</span> +world with haughty grandeur, a grandeur +befitting a colored gentleman recently come +into a fortune!</p> + +<p>Behind the launch came the skiff, the only +visible trophy of the pirates’ expedition, since, +doubtless to Harmon’s disappointment, not +one town had been sacked. And yet, as Pud +had observed farther down the river that forenoon, +they hadn’t done so badly for pirates new +to the business, for they were returning with +five hundred dollars and a perfectly good rowboat, +and without the loss of a man!</p> + +<p>As the launch turned the bend above the +island and the landing came into sight, Pud +blinked his eyes. For a moment it looked as if +all Millville had gathered to welcome them +home, but a second look showed that the group +ahead numbered no more than ten persons; a +dozen at the outside. There were Pud’s father +and mother, and Tim’s father, and Harmon’s +father and mother and two small sisters, and +Andy Tremble and Mr. Ephraim Billings and +Marshal Bud Garvey and—oh, gee—Mr. +Tully, the minister! Pud wished then that he +had taken the new names from the bow. Here +it was a Sunday and there was that lettering +down there staring right at everybody and +spelling <i>Jolly Rodger</i>! They were waving now, +and Pud waved back, and so did Tim. And<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_296"></a>[296]</span> +there was Andy Tremble pointing at something +and laughing fit to kill himself, and Bud Garvey +laughing too. And they weren’t looking at the +name on the bow, either. They were looking +farther astern. Pud looked, too. Then he +wilted.</p> + +<p>Harmon, stiff with dignity, solemn as a +judge, sat with folded arms upon the after deck, +while, behind him, placed there unknown to +Pud and Tim, the disreputable white flag +adorned with the skull-and-cross-bones spread +itself to the breeze!</p> + +<p class="p4 noic">THE END</p> + + + + +<hr class="chap"> +<div class="tnote"> +<p class="noi tntitle">Transcriber’s Notes:</p> + +<p class="smfont">Printer’s, punctuation, and spelling inaccuracies were silently + corrected.</p> + +<p class="smfont">Archaic and variable spelling has been preserved.</p> + +<p class="smfont">Inconsistent hyphenation and compound words were made consistent + only when a predominant form was found.</p> +</div> + +<div style='text-align:center'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 75936 ***</div> +</body> +</html> + diff --git a/75936-h/images/cover.jpg b/75936-h/images/cover.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..08d33ab --- /dev/null +++ b/75936-h/images/cover.jpg diff --git a/75936-h/images/cover_sm.jpg b/75936-h/images/cover_sm.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..7862799 --- /dev/null +++ b/75936-h/images/cover_sm.jpg diff --git a/75936-h/images/i_frontispiece.jpg b/75936-h/images/i_frontispiece.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..ed8a266 --- /dev/null +++ b/75936-h/images/i_frontispiece.jpg diff --git a/75936-h/images/logo.jpg b/75936-h/images/logo.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..6dc8f2f --- /dev/null +++ b/75936-h/images/logo.jpg |
