Snagged and Sunk/Chapter 11

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HERE, now," soliloquized Jake Coyle, as he wended his way through the gloomy woods after concealing the canvas canoe and the two valises he had fished up from the bottom of the lake. I'm a rich man, an' nobody but me knows the first thing about it. As soon as it gets daylight, I'll come back an' hide the guns an' the money an' the canoe all together, in a better place, so't if pap gets a hint of what is goin' on, an' I have to dig out from home in the middle of the night, I shall know right where to find 'em without runnin' through the woods to hunt 'em up. Now, as soon as I can get Rube to buy me some shoes an' clothes an' powder an' lead, I'll go back to some of them swamps that I've heared pap tell about, an' trap on my own hook. I'll sell my skins in New London, 'cause nobody don't know me there. I'll be 'rested if I stay around where pap is."

In blissful ignorance of the fact that his father, following close behind him, had seen almost every move he made that night, Jake lumbered on through the darkness, and at last found himself on the "carry" that ran close by the door of Rube Royall's humble abode. Cautiously approaching the door, Jake pushed it open and looked in. He could see nothing, for the fire on the hearth had gone out, and the interior of the cabin was pitch dark. But he heard the heavy breathing of the sleepers, and, believing that his father was among them, he entered on tiptoe, stretched himself out on one of the beds beside his slumbering brother, and drew a long breath of relief. The night had been full of excitement, and the day was destined to bring more.

About eight o' clock the next morning, after breakfast had been eaten and Rube had gone to sleep, the old woman and her boys gathered in the wood yard in front of the house, and talked and wondered at the prolonged absence of the head of the family. Jake appeared to be very much concerned about him.

"Say, mam, when did you see him last?" he anxiously inquired.

"Not sence you left hum last night," was the reply. "I didn't think uothin' of your bein' gone, 'cause I thought mebbe you had went after more grub; but I don't see what took the ole man away so permiscus. I couldn't make head or tail of the way he went snoopin' around yisterday, first in the house, then in the woods, an' the next thing you knowed you didn't know where he was. 'Taint like him to be gone all night in this way. Why, Jakey, what makes your face so white?"

"Dunno; less'n it's 'cause I'm afeared the constables have got a hold of him," answered the boy.

"Oh, shucks!" exclaimed the old woman. "You needn't"

She was going to say something else but didn't have time. Just then hasty steps sounded on the hard path, and the three looked up to see the missing man approaching at a rapid run. He was angry about something, Jake could see that with half an eye, and frightened as well.

"Git outen here!" said Matt, as soon as he could make himself heard. "Scatter! They're comin'!"

"Who's comin'?" asked the old woman, who was the only one who could speak.

"Swan, an' all the rest of them fellers that went out to 'rest them robbers."

"Did they ketch 'em?"

"Now jest listen at you! Do you reckon I stopped to talk to 'em, dog-gone ye? I dug out soon as I heard 'em comin' through the woods."

"Where was they?"

"Up there by the cove where our camp was burned, an' headin' straight for it."

"The cove?" gasped Jake.

"Yes, the cove, you ongrateful scamp, an' goin' as straight t'wards it as they could go. They're bound to nose out something there," said Matt, remembering that he must have made a good many wide and plain trails while he was roaming around looking for Jake's treasure, "an' if they find them two grip-sacks that you left there last night I wouldn't be in them ragged clothes of your'n, Jakey, for no money in this broad world. You are a purty chap to go an' find six thousand dollars an' hide it from your pap, I do think. Now scatter out an' make for that there cove as quick as it is safe. Then we'll be on their trail, 'stead of havin' them on our'n. Jakey, stay where I can put my hands on you when I want you."

These words recalled the boy's senses and brought his power of action back to him. He did not know which he stood the most in fear of—his father's wrath, the probable loss of his money, or the sheriff and his posse; but he did know that he was not safe where he was, so he caught up his rifle, which rested against a log close at hand, and took to his heels. Sam was frightened, too, but not to the same degree that Matt and Jake were, because he was not as guilty. He kept his wits about him, and proved by his subsequent movements that he could act as promptly and intelligently in a crisis as his brother could. When Jake disappeared, and Matt and his wife ran into the cabin to collect the few articles of value they possessed, previous to seeking safety in flight, Sam stood and communed thus with himself:

"Beats the world, an' I don't begin to see through it; but how did that Jake of our'n get them six thousand dollars that was stole outen the Irvin'ton bank? He's got 'em, 'cause pap said so; an' they're hid somewheres near the place where our old camp used to be. Wonder if Jakey is goin' there now? I reckon I'd best keep an eye on him an' find out. Why didn't he go halvers with the rest of us, like he'd oughter done? If I can get my hands on that money he won't never see it agin, I tell you."

Jake Coyle's brain was in such a whirl that he never once thought to look behind him as he hurried through the woods toward the head of the outlet; and even if he had he might not have seen Sam, who was a short distance in his rear and keeping him constantly in sight; for Sam took pains to cover himself with every tree and bush that came in his way. Once he came near being caught; for Jake, recalling his angry sire's parting words, and apprehensive of being followed, suddenly threw himself behind a log and watched the trail over which he had just passed. But, fortunately for Sam, he saw the movement, rapid as it was, and stopped in time to escape detection. A less skillful woodsman would have lost Jake then and there, or else he would have run upon him before he knew it.

After spending a quarter of an hour in patient waiting Jake must have become satisfied that his fears of pursuit were groundless, for he jumped up and again took to his heels. He kept on past the outlet, skirted the shore of the lake until he came within a short distance of the place where Tom Bigden and the squatter held their consultations, and there he took to the woods and struck a straight course for the cove, Sam following close behind.

It was ten miles to the cove by land, and all the way through timber that had never echoed to the woodman's ax. It was a distance that few city-bred boys could have covered at a trot, but it was nothing to the squatter's sons, who would have done it any day for a dollar. Twice while on the way did Jake try his "dropping" dodge, but Sam was too sharp to be caught. The last time he tried it was when he was within a stone's throw of the cove; and then he dived into a thicket, and waited and watched for half an hour before he made a move. Sam, patient and tireless as an Indian, did not move, either, until he saw Jake come out of the thicket and make his way toward the log in which the stolen guns were concealed. He saw him take out the cases, one after the other, and hide them in another log nearer the cove; and while he was wondering what his brother's object could be in doing that the sound of voices in conversation came from the direction of the creek, whereupon Jake fled with the greatest precipitation, hardly daring to stop long enough to cover the end of the log with a bush which he cut with a knife. He threw himself behind the first fallen tree he came to, and looked cautiously over it to see what was going to happen.

Jake thought, and so did Sam, that the voices belonged to the members of the sheriff's posse, who were still loitering about in the vicinity of the cove to see what else they could find there; consequently their surprise was great when they saw Ralph Farnsworth step out of the evergreens with his gun on his shoulder. He stopped and looked around when he stumbled over the bush that concealed the end of the log, stooped over for a minute, and when he straightened up again he held in his hands the Victoria case in which reposed the Lefever hammerless. Then it was that Ralph sent up those excited calls to attract the attention of his companions, who presently joined him.

If Jake and Sam had been working in harmony, they never would have remained inactive in their places of concealment and let Tom and his cousins carry off those guns. Jake, especially, was hopping mad. He got upon his knees, exposing so much of his ragged clothing above the log that he certainly would have been seen if Tom and the rest had glanced in his direction, and shook his fists over his head.

"They're thieves theirselves if they take them guns away," muttered Jake, between his clenched teeth. "I was goin' to give 'em to Rube, an' tell him to buy me some shoes an' clothes outen my shar' of the reward; but now I can't have 'em. I wisht they would go off; for if they tech them grip-sacks—"

Jake finished the sentence by pushing up his sleeves and looking around for a club. The money was hidden but a short distance from that very log, and if Tom and his cousins had found it Jake would have rushed out and fought them single-handed before he would have given up his claim to it. But things did not come to that pass. Ralph had come upon the guns by the merest accident, and he and his friends did not think to search for any other stolen property. They took the guns away with them, and the minute they were out of sight Jake began to bestir himself. He came out on his hands and knees, crawled past the empty log, and disappeared among the bushes on the other side of it. While Sam was trying to decide whether or not it would be quite safe to follow him, Jake glided into view again, holding a valise under each arm.

"There they are! Sure's you're born, there they are!" cried Sam, in great excitement; and if he had uttered the words a little louder Jake would have heard him. "Now, all I've got to do is to keep my eyes on them things an' never lose track of 'em agin."

And Sam didn't lose track of them, either, although Jake spent nearly an hour in hunting up a safe hiding-place for them. He ran swiftly from point to point, closely scrutinizing every log and thicket he came to and stopping now and then to listen, and Sam followed him wherever he went and saw all he did. At last Jake found a place to suit him. A gigantic poplar had been overturned by the wind, and in falling had pulled up a good portion of the earth in which its far-reaching roots were embedded, thus forming a cavity so deep and wide that Rube Royall's cabin could have been buried in it, chimney and all. Into this cavity Jake recklessly plunged, and when he came out again fifteen minutes later his arms were empty. He had left the valises behind.

"An' he won't never see 'em agin, nuther," said Sam, gleefully. "They're mine now, an' so is the money that's into 'em."

During the long hours he had spent in dogging his brother's steps, Sam Coyle had not been so highly excited as he was at this moment. When Jake disappeared, apparently holding a direct course for Rube's cabin, Sam did not move. Impatient as he was to see the color of that money, he was too wary to imperil his chances by doing any thing hasty.

"I can stay right yer till I get so hungry I can't stay no longer," was his mental reflection; "but Jake's got to show up purty soon, 'cause if he don't, him an' pap'll have a furse. He told Jake, pap did, that he wanted him to stay where he could get his hands onto him; an' when pap talks that-a-way, he means business. So I reckon Jake will go a lumberin' towards hum till he meets pap, an' then he'll pertend that he's been a-lookin for him."

When this thought passed through Sam's mind it occurred to him that he had better not remain too long inactive, for this might be the last opportunity he would ever have to remove the money from Jake's hiding-place to another of his own selection; so, after half an hour's waiting, Sam set himself in motion. He did not get upon his feet, nor did he go directly toward the fallen poplar. He crawled along on his stomach and made a wide detour, so as to approach the cavity on the side opposite to that on which Jake had entered and left it. Of course this took him a long time, but he made up for it by the readiness with which he found the money when he arrived at the end of his toilsome journey. A little prodding among the leaves at the foot of the poplar brought the valises to light, and in ten minutes more they were hidden in another place where Jake, when he discovered his loss, would never think of looking for them. They were not shoved into a hollow log nor covered up in the leaves. They were placed high among the thick branches of an evergreen and tied fast there, so that the wind would not shake them out.

"There," said Sam, after he had made a circuit of the tree and viewed it from all sides. "Nobody can't find 'em now. They are mine, sure. I reckon I'd best go to the cove an' set down, 'cause pap'll be along directly."

Sam had barely time to reach the cove and compose himself when Matt put in an appearance. His first words explained why he had been so long in getting there, and quieted the fear that suddenly sprang up in Sam's mind, that his father had been following him as he himself had followed Jake.

"Haven't I said all along that Rube wasn't by no means the friend to us that he pertends to be?" said the squatter, fiercely. "I didn't run as fur into the bresh as you boys an' the ole woman did, but got behind a log where I could see every thing that was done at the shanty. I seen the sheriff's men when they come outen the woods an' surrounded the house, an' purty quick along come Swan, watchin' over the two robbers an' carryin' a pistol in one hand an' Jake's canvas canoe in the other. They waked Rube up, an' he stood in the door an' talked to 'em as friendly as you please. He showed 'em where we hid the two skiffs we stole from Swan's party on the day they burned our camp at this here cove; an' then one of the robbers an' sheriff an' five or six guides an' constables got into 'em an' pulled up to that snag opposite Haskinses' landin', in the hope of findin' them six thousand dollars. But they had their trouble for their pains. Jakey brought 'em up with your mam's clothes-line last night an' hid 'em somewheres around here. Seen any thing of Jake since you been here?"

"Nary thing," replied Sam. "I was a wonderin' why he didn't come. You told him to stay where you could get your hands onto him."

"So I did, an' this is the way he minds his pap, the ongrateful scamp. I wanted him to meet me here an' show me where that money is. He needn't think he's goin' to keep it all, even if he did capsize them robbers. I'm the one who oughter have the care of it, bein' as I'm the head man of the house. Ain't that so, Sammy?"

"Course it is. If I'd found it, I would have gone halvers with you. How do you know Jake brung it up here an' hid it?"

Cause I follered him. That's what kept me out all night. I was lookin' for it when I heard Swan an' the rest of the guides comin'. I wisht Jakey would hurry up an' come."

"Say, pap," exclaimed Sam. "Let's me an' you hunt for the money all by ourselves. If we find it, we'll hold fast to it an' never give Jake a cent to pay him for bein' so stingy."

"I'd like mighty well if we could do it," answered Matt. "But I looked high an' low for it all last night, an' not a thing that was shaped like a grip-sack could I find. I'm jest done out with tiredness. You look for it, Sammy, an' I'll lay down here an' take a little sleep."

Without waiting to hear whether or not this proposition was agreeable to Sam, the squatter stretched his heavy frame upon the leaves, pulled his remnant of a hat over his face and prepared for rest. Sam looked curiously at him for a moment, then arose to his feet and disappeared. He went straight to the log behind which Jake had concealed himself when alarmed by Ralph Farnsworth's approach, scraped a few leaves together for a bed, and laid himself down upon it. But before he went to sleep he made up his mind that he would not say a word to his father about the loss of the guns; it would hardly be safe. Sam knew that his father expected to make some money out of those guns, and when he found that he could not do it, he would be apt to lose his temper and try to take satisfaction out of somebody.

"That would be me," soliloquized Sam, cause I am the nighest to his hand. I guess I'd best pertend that I don't know nothin' about them guns. Let pap find out for himself that they are gone, an' then he'll think that Swan found 'em when he found the canoe."

Having come to this decision Sam settled himself for a comfortable nap, from which he was aroused an hour before dark by his father's stentorian voice. He got upon his feet and brushed the leaves from his clothing before he answered.

"Well, what's the use of yellin' that-a-way an' tellin' Swan an' all the rest of the guides where you be?" shouted Sam, "Here I am."

"Have you found the money?" asked Matt, in lower tones.

"Course not. If I had, I should 'a' waked you up. 'Tain't in these here woods, pap, 'cause if there's an inch of 'em that I ain't peeped into sence you've been asleep I don't know where it is."

"I tell you it is hid in these woods too," said the squatter, angrily. "Didn't I foller Jake up here an' hang around while he was hidin' the grip-sacks an' the canoe?"

"Well, then was the time that you oughter jumped out an' took it away from him," said Sam. "I'll bet you the guides found it same's they did the canoe."

"Now, jest listen at you! Wasn't I hid in plain sight of them when they was ferried acrost the outlet at the hatchery, an' didn't I take pains to see that they didn't have no grip-sacks with 'em? If I had took it away from him by force he would have got mad an' went an' told on me; don't you see? I knowed that the only chance I had was to steal the money unbeknownst to Jakey, an' make him think the guides got it. Looked in every place without findin' it, did you? Well, there's one thing about it. If Jakey don't come up here to-morrer an' give me them six thousand dollars, I'll tell on him, an' he shan't live in my family no longer. It's most dark, Sammy, an' time for me an' you to be a-lumberin'."

"Where to?" inquired Sam.

"Why, to Rube's, in course. We ain't got no place else to go, have we?"

"But what's the sense in goin' there when you know Rube ain't friendly to you?"

"Me an' your mam talked it all over, an' we know jest what we're goin' to do," replied the squatter. "We've got to take to the woods now, an' live like we done before Rube opened his shanty to us. We're in danger long's we stay there, an' this night will be the last one we shall ever spend under his roof. But we've got to have some furnitur' to put into our shanty after we get it built, an' we'll try to get it of Rube. I shall make enough outen them guns to buy the furnitur', an' then if Jake will come to his senses an' give me the handlin' of that money we'll live like fightin' fowls; won't we, Sammy?"

Aloud Sam said he thought they would; but to himself he said it would be a long time before his father would have the handling of that money. He intended to keep every dollar of it, although, for the life of him, he could not make up his mind what he would do with it.

It was dark long before Sam and his father reached the cabin, and the only member of the family they found there was the old woman, Rube being at the hatchery on watch, and Jake having failed to " show up." That made Matt furious.

"Looks as if he meant to keep outen our way, find that money when he gets a good ready, an' take himself off," exclaimed the squatter. "It won't work, that plan won't. I ain't fooled the sheriff an' all his constables for years an' years to let myself be beat by one of my own boys at last, I bet you. We'll stay here to-night, 'cause we ain't nowhere else to go, an' to-morrer we'll buy some bed-furnitur' an' cookin'-dishes of Rube, an' go to hidin' in the woods agin. If Jakey wants to live with us, he'd best bring them six thousand dollars with him when he comes hum,"

The squatter went to sleep fully expecting to find the missing boy occupying his shake-down when he awoke in the morning; but he was disappointed. His absence alarmed Matt, who began to fear that Jake had fallen into the hands of the constables; but a few cautious questions propounded to Rube, when the latter came to breakfast, set his fears on that score at rest.

"No; the sheriff didn't ketch Jakey," said the watchman, "but he was clost after him, 'cause he knowed that Jakey was the chap who took the robbers over the lake and spilled the grip-sacks into the water. How did the sheriff find that out? The robbers told him, an' described Jake an' his canoe so well that all the guides knew in a minute who they would have to arrest. Where did Jake hide the money after he fished it outen the lake?"

"How do you 'spose I know!" growled Matt.

"Who should know if you don't?" replied Rube. "I seen you follerin' him in a skiff."

"Well," said Matt, who saw it would be useless for him to deny it, "I don't know where he put the money, an' I'm mighty sorry for it. Seen any thing of Jake lately?"

"No, I ain't, an' what's more I don't expect to see him again very soon, either. He'll keep clear of me, for he knows that if I could find him it would be my bounden dooty to take him up an' lay claim to part of the six hundred dollars reward. All you've got to do is to make yourselves comfortable here in my house—"

"Well, we ain't goin' to make ourselves comfortable in your house no longer," interrupted Matt. "We're thinkin' of takin' to the woods."

"What for?"

Cause we don't think it safe here so nigh the place the constables come every time they go into the woods. We'd feel better if we was a piece furder off from 'em."

Rube carelessly inquired where his guest thought of going; but Matt did not give him any satisfaction on that point. He thought he might as well send word to the sheriff and be done with it. Then he broached the subject of furniture, and found that, although Rube was quite willing to tell what he did not need for his own use, he had one hard condition to impose. Cash up and no trust had been his motto through life, and he was too old to depart from it now. He wanted to see the color of Matt's money before he let a single thing go.

"That's the way I'm workin' it to keep him here till I can find them guns," thought the watchman, as he threw himself upon his shake-down. "Matt ain't got ten cents to his name; an' where's he goin' to get it? Winter's comin' on, an' it would be the death of him an' all his family to take to the woods without something to wrap themselves up in of nights, an' so I reckon they'll stay here with me for a while longer. But I don't know what to think about Jakey."

Rube Royall was not the only one who did not know what to think of him.