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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/28504-8.txt b/28504-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..e6c312f --- /dev/null +++ b/28504-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,8721 @@ +The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Rival Campers Ashore, by Ruel Perley +Smith, Illustrated by Louis D. Gowing + + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + + + + +Title: The Rival Campers Ashore + The Mystery of the Mill + + +Author: Ruel Perley Smith + + + +Release Date: April 5, 2009 [eBook #28504] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + + +***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE RIVAL CAMPERS ASHORE*** + + +E-text prepared by Juliet Sutherland, Mary Meehan, and the Project +Gutenberg Online Distributed Proofreading Team (https://www.pgdp.net) + + + +Note: Project Gutenberg also has an HTML version of this + file which includes the original illustrations. + See 28504-h.htm or 28504-h.zip: + (https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/2/8/5/0/28504/28504-h/28504-h.htm) + or + (https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/2/8/5/0/28504/28504-h.zip) + + + + + +THE RIVAL CAMPERS ASHORE + +Or, The Mystery of the Mill + +by + +RUEL PERLEY SMITH + +Author of "The Rival Campers Series," "Prisoners of Fortune," etc. + +Illustrated by Louis D. Gowing + + + + + + + +Boston +The Page Company +Publishers + +Copyright, 1907 +by The Page Company + +Entered at Stationers' Hall, London + +All rights reserved + +Made in U. S. A. + +New Edition, May, 1925 + +The Colonial Press + +C. H. Simonds Co., Boston, U. S. A. + + + + +[Illustration: "HE HANDED THE PACKAGE TO COLONEL WITHAM."] + + + + +CONTENTS + + I. AN INLAND VOYAGE + + II. TURNED ADRIFT + + III. THE OLD MILL + + IV. THE TROUT POOL + + V. SOME CAUSES OF TROUBLE + + VI. CAPTURING AN INDIAN + + VII. A LONG RACE BEGUN + + VIII. CONQUERING THE RAPIDS + + IX. AN EXCITING FINISH + + X. HENRY BURNS MAKES A GIFT + + XI. COL. WITHAM GETS THE MILL + + XII. THE GOLDEN COIN + + XIII. A SAILING ADVENTURE + + XIV. THE FORTUNE-TELLER + + XV. A HUNT THROUGH THE MILL + + XVI. THE GOLDEN COIN LOST AGAIN + + XVII. A STRANGE ADMISSION + + XVIII. GRANNY THORNTON'S SECRET + + XIX. THE MYSTERY OF THE MILL + + + + +LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS + + +"HE HANDED THE PACKAGE TO COLONEL WITHAM" + +"AT THE SOUND OF THE MAN'S VOICE, HENRY BURNS AND JACK HARVEY HAD SPRUNG +UP IN AMAZEMENT" + +"THE WATCHERS ASHORE SAW THE CANOE SLOWLY TURN AND FACE THE SWIFT +CURRENT" + +"HE SEPARATED THE LINE INTO TWO COILS, WHIRLED ONE ABOUT HIS HEAD AND +THREW IT FAR OUT" + + + + +THE RIVAL CAMPERS ASHORE + + + + +CHAPTER I + +AN INLAND VOYAGE + + +The morning train from Benton, rumbling and puffing along its way +through outlying farmland, and sending its billows of smoke like sea +rollers across the pastures, drew up, ten miles from the city, at a +little station that overlooked a pond, lying clear and sparkling at the +base of some low, wooded hills. An old-fashioned, weather-beaten house, +adjacent the station, and displaying a sign-board bearing the one word, +"Spencer's," indicated that Spencer, whoever he might prove to be, would +probably extend the hospitality of his place to travellers. Here and +there, widely scattered across the fields, were a few farmhouses. + +The locomotive, having announced its approach by a mingled clanging and +whistling that sent startled cattle galloping for the shelter of the +thickets, came to a dead stop at the station; but, as though to show +its realization of the insignificance of Spencer's, continued to snort +and throb impatiently. Certain important-appearing trainmen, with +sleeves rolled to the elbows, hastily throwing open the door of the +baggage-car, seemed to take the hint. + +Presently a trunk, turning a summersault through the air, landed, +somewhat damaged, on the platform. A few boxes and packages followed +likewise, similarly ejected. Then, through the open doorway, there +appeared the shapely, graceful bow of a canoe. Whatever treatment this +might have received, left to the tender mercies of the trainmen, can +only be imagined; for at this moment two youths, who had descended from +one of the passenger coaches, came running along the platform. + +"Hold on, there," said the larger of the two, addressing a man who stood +with arms upreached to catch the end of the canoe, "let me get hold with +you. We don't want to be wrecked before we start,--eh, Henry?" + +"Hope not," responded his companion, quietly taking the bow of the +canoe, which the larger youth relinquished to him, while the latter +stepped to the car door and put a stalwart shoulder and arm under the +stern, passed to him by a man inside. + +Together, the two boys deposited their craft gently on a patch of grass +near-by; the locomotive puffed away from Spencer's, dragging its train; +the station agent resumed his interrupted pipe. Soon the only sounds +that broke the stillness of the place were the clickings of a single +telegraph instrument in the station and the scoffing voices of a few +crows, circling about the tops of some pine trees that overlooked the +farmhouse. + +The prospect that met the eyes of the boys was most enticing. On one +hand lay the little pond, reflecting some great patches of cloud that +flecked the sky. All about them, as far as eye could discern, stretched +the country, rolling and irregular, meadow and pasture, corn and wheat +land, and groves of maple, pine and birch. + +Flowing into the pond, a thin, shadowy stream wound its way through +alders and rushes, coming down along past Spencer's, invitingly from the +fields and hills. It was the principal inlet of the pond, flowing hence +from another and larger pond some miles to the westward. + +"Well, Henry, what do you say?" said the larger boy. "Looks great, +doesn't it?" + +"Ripping, Jack!" exclaimed the other. "I feel like paddling a mile a +minute. Let's pick her up and get afloat." + +They reached for the "her" referred to--the light canoe--when the +station agent, welcoming even this trifling relief from the monotony of +Spencer's, approached them. + +"That's a right nice craft of yours," he remarked, eying it curiously. +"Going on the pond?" + +"No, we're going around through the streams to Benton," replied the +elder boy. "Think there's water enough to float us?" + +"Why, p'raps," said the station agent. "It's a long jaunt, +though--twenty-five or thirty miles, I reckon. Calc'late to do it in one +day?" + +"Why, yes, and home in time for a late supper. We didn't think it was +quite so far as that, though. How far do you call it to the brook that +leads over into Dark Stream?" + +"Oh, two or three miles--ask Spencer. He knows more'n I do 'bout it." + +Spencer, a deliberate, sleepily-inclined individual, much preoccupied +with a jack-knife and a shingle, "allowed" the distance to be a matter +of from a mile and a half, to two miles, or "mebbe" two and a half. + +"Henry Burns, old chap, get hold of that canoe and let's scoot," +exclaimed his companion, laughing. "Tom and Bob said 'twas a mile. +Probably everyone we'd ask would say something different. If we keep on +asking questions, we'll go wrong, sure." + +Henry Burns's response was to pick up his end of the canoe, and they +went cautiously down through the tangle of grasses to the stream. The +buoyant craft rested lightly on its surface; they stepped aboard, Henry +Burns in the bow, his companion, Jack Harvey, in the stern, dipped their +paddles joyously together, and went swiftly on their way. + +It was about half-past seven o'clock of a June morning. The sun was +lightening the landscape, yet it was by no means clear. The day had, in +fact, come in foggy, and the mist was slow in burning off from the +hills. Often, at intervals, it hung over the water like a thin curtain. +But the mystery of an unknown stream, hidden by the banks along which it +wound deviously, with many a sharp twist and turn, tempted them ever to +vigorous exertion. + +Just a little way ahead, and it seemed as though the narrow stream were +ending against a bank of green. Then, as they approached, an abrupt +swerving of the stream one way or the other, opened up the course anew +for them. This was a matter of constant repetition. Theirs were the +delights, without danger, of exploration. + +"Warming up a bit, isn't it, Jack?" said Henry Burns, laying aside his +paddle for a moment and peeling off a somewhat dingy sweater. "I'm not +so sure about getting the sun for long, though." + +"Nor I," replied his companion, driving the canoe swiftly with his +single paddle till the other had freed himself of his garment and was +braced, steadily, once more; when he, too, laid his paddle across the +gunwales and stripped for the work. "I don't just like the looks of +those clouds. If we were in the old Viking now, I'd say put on all sail +and make for harbour; for it looks like rain by and by, but no wind." + +"Well, this is all one big harbour from here to Benton," laughed Henry +Burns. "Avast, I sight a cow off the port bow. Never mind the cow? All +right, on we go. If it rains hard, we'll run ashore and hunt for a barn. +Wouldn't Tom Harris and Bob White laugh to see us poking back by train, +instead of making the trip?" + +"Oh, we won't turn back," said Harvey. "Besides, there's no train in to +Benton till night. Fancy spending the day at Spencer's station! It's +through the streams for us now, rain or shine." + +As though to demonstrate more fully his determination, Harvey dipped +with a sharper, quicker stroke, put the strength of two muscular arms +into his work, and they sped quickly past the turns of their winding +course. Perhaps either Tom Harris or Bob White, of whom Henry Burns had +spoken, might have wielded the paddles with a bit more of skill, have +kept the course a little straighter, or skimmed the turns a trifle more +close; but neither could have put more of life and vim into the strokes. +A large, thick-set youth was Harvey, strongly built, with arms bronzed +and sinewy--clearly a youth who had lived much out of doors, and had +developed in sun and air. + +Harvey's companion was considerably slighter of build, but of a +well-knit figure, whose muscles, while not so pronounced, played quickly +and easily; and whose whole manner suggested somehow a reserve strength, +and a physique capable of much endurance. + +Had they possessed, however, more of that same skill and familiarity +with canoeing which comes only with practice, they would have perceived +more clearly the speed with which they were travelling, and how great a +distance already lay between them and the point where they had embarked. + +"Queer we don't come to that inlet," remarked Harvey, at length. "I +haven't seen anything that looked like the land-arks: the two houses, +the road and a bridge, that Tom spoke of." + +"No," replied Henry Burns, but added, reflectively, "unless we passed +them at least three-quarters of a mile back. But there wasn't any inlet +there. Hang it! Do you suppose Spencer was right after all?" + +"May be," said Harvey. "Let's hit it up a little harder; but watch sharp +for the brook." + +"Aye, aye, skipper," said Henry Burns. + +But at this moment the glassy surface of the stream dimpled all over +with the sudden fall of raindrops; a compact, heavy cloud wheeled +directly overhead and poured its contents upon them, while, afar off, +the fields were still lit with patches of sunlight. They scrambled as +hastily as they could into their sweaters again. + +"Let it come," said Henry Burns, resuming his wet paddle; "it's only a +cloud-bank that's caught us. We'll work out of it if we keep on. Then +the sun will dry us." + +They pushed on in the rain, peering eagerly ahead for some signs of the +landmarks that would show them the brook. Then, all at once, to their +amazement, the stream they were following divided into two forks; the +one at the right coming down from higher land, broken in its course, as +far as they could see, by stones and boulders that made it impassable +even for the light canoe; the other branch emerging from a thick tangle +of overhanging alders and willows. + +"Well now, what do you make of that?" cried Harvey, in disgust. "That +can't be the brook, to the right, and the other doesn't look as though +it led anywhere in particular." He stopped paddling, and squeezed the +water out of his cap. + +"We've come past the brook," replied Henry Burns. "It's rainy-day luck. +We've got to go up to that farmhouse on the hill and find out where we +are." + +"I haven't seen a farmhouse for more than half an hour," exclaimed +Harvey. + +"No, but there are cattle in that pasture, and a track going up through +the grove," said Henry Burns. "We'll follow that. It won't be any +blinder than this stream." + +They brought the canoe in upon the muddy bank, slumped into the ooze, +pulled the canoe half out of water and started off. + +"Nice trip!" said Henry Burns. "And the worst of it is, I have a +suspicion I know just where that brook is. I can see it now. There was a +tiny bit of a cove, a lot of rushes growing there, and two houses back +about a quarter of a mile. But it was dry--no water running--and it was +so near the station I didn't suppose that could be the place." + +"It isn't so dry by this time," remarked Harvey. + +"No, and neither are we," said Henry Burns. "Look out!" + +He dragged one leg out from a mud-hole into which he had sunk to the +knee. The path they were following led through clumps of fern and +brake, almost waist high. These, dripping with rain, drenched them as +they pushed their way through. Some fifteen minutes of hard travelling +brought them to a little rise of land, from the top of which they could +see, down in a valley beyond, a farmhouse. + +"More wet day luck," muttered Harvey. "We're in for it, though. It's a +good half mile more." + +They tramped on, in silence. The particular cloud that had first wet +them had blended much with others by this time, and it was still +raining. But they came up to the house soon, and, the big barn door +standing open invitingly, they entered there. A man and two boys, busily +engaged mending a harness, looked up in surprise. + +"Sort er wet," the man commented. "Come from the city, eh? Well, I guess +it's only a shower. What's that? The brook that runs into Dark Stream! +Huh! You're two miles past it." + +Henry Burns and Harvey looked at each other helplessly. Then Harvey +grinned. + +"It's so tough, it's almost a joke, Henry," he said. + +"Great--if it had only happened to somebody else, say your friend Harry +Brackett," replied Henry Burns. "Guess we won't tell much about this +part of the trip to Tom and Bob, though. What do you want to do, go back +to the station, or keep on?" + +"Back!" exclaimed Harvey. "Say, I'm so mad, I'd keep on now if every +drop of rain was as big as a base-ball. I'll never go back, if it takes +a week--that is, if you're game?" + +"Come on," said Henry Burns quietly. + + + + +CHAPTER II + +TURNED ADRIFT + + +Soon they were on their way again, with the sky lightening a little and +the rain almost ceased. They plunged through the tangle of dripping +brakes, down to the shore; pushed off once more in midstream, and +started back the way they had come. + +There was not quite so much spirit to their paddling as there had been +on the way up. Every stroke had meant to their minds, then, just so much +of their journey accomplished. Now they knew they were striving only to +put themselves on the right track again, and that there would be four +wet miles of wasted effort. However, they were still strong, and the +canoe went rapidly down stream. + +The two miles seemed nearer four when Henry Burns suddenly pointed with +his paddle ahead and said, soberly, "There's the place, Jack. I saw it, +coming up, but I thought it was only a patch of bull-rushes. We can't +get a canoe through, anyway. Let's go ashore and have a look at the +country." + +They paddled in and scrambled up the bank. Sure enough, there was what +would be a small brook, at some stages of water, coming in from across +country; doubtless with water enough, in the spring of the year, to +float a canoe; but now impassable. They followed it up through a wheat +field to a road, from which, to their relief, a stream of about the +dimensions of the one they had been following--not quite so large--was +to be seen. A horse drawing a wagon at a jog trot came down the road, +and they accosted the occupant of the seat. + +"How many miles to Mill Stream by the way of Dark Stream?" he said, +repeating their question. "Well, I reckon it's fifteen or sixteen. Water +enough? Oh, yes, mebbe, except p'raps in spots. Goin' round to Benton, +you say? Sho! Don't esactly envy yer the jaunt. Guess there'll be more +rain bime-by. Good day. Giddap." + +"Wall, I reckon," said Henry Burns, dryly, imitating the man's manner of +speech, "that I don't ask any more of these farmers how many miles we've +got to travel. According to his reckoning, we'd get to Benton sometime +to-morrow night. The next man might say 'twas fifty miles to Benton, and +then you'd want to turn back." + +"Never!" exclaimed Jack Harvey, grimly. "Let's go for the canoe." + +They got the canoe on their shoulders, and made short work of the carry. +But it was after ten o'clock when they set their craft afloat in Dark +Stream; and the real work of the day had just begun. + +Knowing they were really on the right course, however, cheered them. + +"Say," cried Harvey, in a sudden burst of enthusiasm, "we'll not stop at +Benton, at all, perhaps; just keep on paddling down Mill Stream past the +city, down into Samoset river, into the bay, and out to Grand Island. +Make a week of it." + +But even as he spoke, a big rain drop splashed on his cheek, and another +storm burst over them. Down it came in torrents; a summer rainfall to +delight the heart of a farmer with growing crops; a shower that fairly +bent the grass in the fields with its weight; that made a tiny lake in +the bottom of the canoe, flooded back around Harvey's knees in the +stern, and which trickled copiously down the backs of the two boys +underneath their sweaters. + +"What was you saying about Grand Island, Jack?" inquired Henry Burns, +slyly. + +"Grand Island be hanged!" said Harvey. "When I start for there, I'll go +in a boat that's got a cabin. I guess Benton will do for us." + +They looked about for shelter, but there were woods now on both sides of +the stream, and through them they could get no glimpse of any farmhouse. + +"Well, I wouldn't go into one if I saw it, now!" exclaimed Harvey. "I +can't get any wetter. Pretty soon we'll begin to like it. I'll catch a +fish, anyway. This rain will make 'em bite." + +He unwound a line from a reel, attached a spoon-hook, cast it over and +began to troll astern, far in the wake of the canoe. It was, in truth, +an ideal day for fishing, and the first clump of lily pads they passed +yielded them a big pickerel. He came in fighting and tumbling, making +the worst of his struggle--after the manner of pickerel--when he was +fairly aboard. Once free of the hook, he dropped down into the puddle in +the canoe and lashed the water with his tail so that it spattered in +Jack Harvey's face worse than the rain. Harvey despatched the fish with +a few blows of his paddle. + +"Guess I won't catch another," he said shortly. "I can't stand a shower +coming both ways at once." + +Henry Burns chuckled quietly to himself. "Let's empty her out," he +suggested. + +They ran the canoe ashore, took hold at either end, inverted the craft +and let the water drain out. Then they went on again. It was a fair and +pretty country through which the stream threaded its way, with countless +windings and twistings; but the rain dimmed and faded its beauties now. +They thought only of making progress. Yet the rain was warm, they could +not be chilled while paddling vigorously, and Henry Burns said he was +beginning to like it. + +Presently, in the far distance, a village clock sounded the hour. It +struck twelve o'clock. + +"My, I didn't know it was getting so late," said Henry Burns. "What do +you say to a bite to eat?" + +"I could eat that fish raw," said Harvey. + +"No need. We'll cook him," responded Henry Burns. "There's the place," +and he pointed in toward a grove of evergreens and birches. "That +village is a mile off. We don't want another walk through this drenching +country." + +They were only too glad to jump out ashore. + +"You get the wood, Jack, and I'll rig up the shelter and clean the +fish," said Henry Burns. Drawing out a small bag made of light duck from +one end of the canoe, they untied it and took therefrom two small +hatchets, a coil of stout cord, a fry-pan, a knife and fork apiece and a +strip of bacon; likewise a large and a small bottle. The larger +contained coffee; the smaller, matches. They examined the latter +anxiously. + +"They're all right," said Harvey, shaking the bottle. "Carry your +matches in a bottle, on a leaky boat and in the woods. I've been in +both." + +Taking the cord and one of the hatchets, Henry Burns proceeded to +stretch a line between two trees; then interlacing the line, on a slant +between other trees, he constructed a slight network; upon which, after +an excursion amid the surrounding woods, he laid a sort of thatch of +boughs. + +"That's not the best shelter I ever saw," he said at length, surveying +his work, "but it will keep off the worst of the rain." + +It did, in fact, answer fairly well, with the added protection of the +heavy branches overhead. + +In the mean time, Harvey, having hunted for some distance, had found +what he wanted--a dead tree, not so old as to be rotten, but easy to cut +and split. Into the heart of this he went with his hatchet, and quickly +got an armful of dry fire-wood. He came running back with the wood, and +a few sheets of birch-bark--the inner part of the bark--with the wet, +outer layer carefully stripped off. They had a blaze going quickly, +with this, beneath the shelter of boughs. + +They put the bacon on to fry, and pieces of the fish, cut thin with a +keen hunting-knife. The coffee, poured from the bottle into a tin +dipper, they set near the blaze, on some brands. They they gazed out +upon the drizzle, as the dinner cooked. + +Harvey shook his head, gloomily. + +"We're in for it," he said. "It's settled down for an all day's rain." + +"I hope so," responded Henry Burns, with a twinkle in his eye, "I like +it--but I wish I could feel just one dry spot on my back." + +They ate their dinner of fried bacon and pickerel and coffee beside a +fire that blazed cheerily, despite an occasional sputtering caused by +the rain dripping through; and when they had got half dry and had +started forth once more into the rain, they were in good spirits. But +the first ten minutes of paddling found them drenched to the skin again. + +They ran some small rapids after a time, and later carried around a +little dam. The afternoon waned, and the windings of the stream seemed +endless. It was three o'clock when, at a sudden turn to the right, which +was to the eastward, they came upon another stream flowing in and +mingling with the one they were following. Thenceforth the two ran as +one stream, the banks widening perceptibly, the stream flowing far more +broadly, and with increased depth and strength. The way from now on was +to the eastward some three or four miles, and then almost due south to +Benton, a distance of ten of eleven miles more. + +They were soon running swiftly with the current, shooting rapids, at +times, of an eighth of a mile in length, going very carefully not to +scrape on submerged rocks. And still the rain fell. There were two dams +to carry around, and they did this somewhat drearily, trudging along the +muddy shores, climbing the slippery banks with difficulty, and with some +danger of falling and smashing their canoe. + +Five, six and seven o'clock came; darkness was shutting in, and they +were three miles from Benton. To make matters worse, with the falling of +night the rain increased, pouring in such torrents that they had +frequently to pause and empty out their canoe. + +A few minutes after seven, and a light gleamed from a window a little +distance back from the stream, less than a quarter of a mile. + +"There's our lodgings for the night, Jack," said Henry Burns, pointing +up through the rain. "I don't mind saying I've had enough. It's three +miles yet to Benton, or nearly that, there are three more dams, and as +for walking, the road must be a bog-hole." + +"I'm with you," responded Harvey. "If it's a lodging house, I've the +money to pay--three dollars in the oiled silk wallet. If it's a +farmhouse, we'll stay, if we have to sleep in the barn." + +Presently they perceived a landing, with several rowboats tied up. They +ran in alongside this, drew their canoe clear up on to the float, turned +it over, and walked rapidly up toward the house from which the light +shone. + +"We're in luck for once," said Harvey. "There's a sign over the door." + +The sign, indeed, seemed to offer them some sort of welcome. It bore an +enormous hand pointing inward, and the inscription, "Half Way House." + +"I wonder what it's half way between," said Henry Burns, as they paused +a moment on the threshold of the door. "Half way between the sky and +China, I guess. But I don't care, if the roof doesn't leak." + +The picture, as they entered, was, in truth, one to cheer the most +wretched. Directly in front of them, in line with the door, a fire of +hickory logs roared in an old-fashioned brick fireplace, lighting up the +hotel office almost as much as did the two kerosene lamps, disposed at +either end. An old woman, dozing comfortably in a big rocking chair +before the blaze, jumped up at their appearance. + +"Land sakes!" she ejaculated, querulously. "What a night to be comin' in +upon us! Dear! Dear! Want to stay over night, you say? Well, if that +ain't like boys--canooering, you call it, in this mess of a rain. +Gracious me, but you're wet to the skin, both er yer. Well, take them +wooden chairs, as won't be spoiled with water, and sit up by the fire +till I make a new pot of coffee and warm up a bit of stew and fry a bit +of bacon. Canooering in this weather! Well, that beats me." + +"The proprietor, you say? Well, he's up the road, but he'll be in, +soon. You can pay me for the supper, and fix 'bout the stay in' over +night with him. I jes' tend to the cookin'. That's all I do." + +She called them to supper in the course of a quarter of an hour, and had +clearly done her best for them. There was coffee, steaming hot, and +biscuit, warmed up to a crisp; bacon, freshly fried, with eggs; a dish +of home-made preserves, and a sheet of gingerbread. + +"Eat all yer can hold," she chuckled, as they fell to, hungry as +panthers. "Canooering's good fer the appertite, ain't it? It's plain +vittles, but I reckon the cookin's good as the most of 'em, if I say it, +who shouldn't." + +She rambled on, somewhat garrulously, as the boys ate. They did full +justice to the cooking, stuffed themselves till Henry Burns said he +could feel his skin stretch; paid the old woman her price for the +meal--"twenty-five cents apiece, an' it couldn't be done for less"--and +went and seated themselves comfortably once more by the fire in the +office. They settled themselves back comfortably. + +"Arms ache?" inquired Harvey of his comrade. + +"No," replied Henry Burns, "but I don't mind saying I'm tired. I +wouldn't stir out of this place again to-night for sixteen billion +dol--" + +The door opened, and a bulky, red-faced man entered, stamping, shaking +the rain from his clothing like a big Newfoundland dog, and railing +ill-naturedly at the weather. + +"It's a vile night, gran'," he exclaimed; then espying his two +newly-arrived guests, he assumed a more cordial tone. + +"Good evening. Good evening, young gentlemen," he said. "Glad you got in +out of the storm--hello! what's this? Well, if it don't beat me!" + +At the sound of the man's voice, Henry Burns and Jack Harvey had sprung +up in amazement. They stood beside their chairs, eying the proprietor of +the Half Way House, curiously. He, in turn, glared at them in +astonishment, fully equal to theirs, while his red face went from its +normal fiery hue to deep purple, and his hands clenched. + +[Illustration: "AT THE SOUND OF THE MAN'S VOICE, HENRY BURNS AND JACK +HARVEY HAD SPRUNG UP IN AMAZEMENT."] + +"Colonel Witham!" they exclaimed, in the same breath. + +"What are you two doing here?" he cried. + +"What new monkey-shine of yours is this? Don't you know I won't have any +Henry Burnses and Jack Harveys, nor any of the rest of you, around my +hotel? Didn't yer get satisfaction enough out of bringing bad luck to me +in one place, and now you come bringing it here? Get out, is what I say +to you, and get out quick!" + +"You keep away, gran'," he cried to the woman, who had stepped forward. +"Don't you go interfering. It's my hotel; and I wouldn't care if 'twas +raining a bucket a drop and coming forty times as hard. I'd put 'em out +er doors, neck and crop. Get out, I say, and don't ever step a foot +around here again." + +Henry Burns and Jack Harvey stood for a moment, gazing in perplexity at +each other. + +"Shall we go, or stick it out?" asked Harvey, in a low voice. + +"Why, it's a public house, and I don't believe he has a right to throw +us out this way," said Henry Burns. "But it means a fight, sure, if we +try to stay. I guess we better quit. It's his own place, and he's a +rough man when he's angered." + +Ruefully pulling on their sweaters--at least dry once more--and taking +their paddles, which they had brought with them, from behind the door, +they went out into the night, into the driving rain. + + + + +CHAPTER III + +THE OLD MILL + + +The two boys, thus most unexpectedly evicted, stood disconsolately on +the porch of the Half Way House, peering out into the storm. The +character of it had changed somewhat, the rain driving fiercely now and +then, with an occasional quick flaw of wind, instead of falling +monotonously. And now there came a few rumblings of thunder, with faint +flashes of lightning low in the sky. + +"Well, Jack," said Henry Burns, at length, speaking with more than his +customary deliberation, "wet night luck seems to be worse even than wet +day luck. But who'd ever thought we'd have such tough luck as to run +across Col. Witham up here, and a night like this? The boys never said +anything about his being here." + +"No--and he's got no right to put us out!" cried Harvey. "If you'll +stand by, I'll go back into that office and tell him what I think of +him." + +"He knows that already," replied Henry Burns, coolly. "Wouldn't be any +news to him. Say, I see a light way up on the hill to the left. Suppose +we try them there. I wish we could see the road and the paths better, +so as to know where we are." + +As though almost in answer to this wish, a brilliant flash of lightning +illumined the whole sky; and, for a brief moment, there stood clearly +outlined before them, like a huge magic-lantern picture, the prominent +features of the landscape. + +Past the hotel where they stood, the highway ran, gleaming now with +pools of water. Some way down the road, the land descended to a narrow +intervale through which a brook flowed, with a rude wooden bridge thrown +across in line with the road. Farther still down the road, and a little +off from it, beside the larger stream which they had travelled all day, +an old mill squatted close to the water, hard by the brink of a dam. +Away up on the hillside, some three quarters of a mile off, a farmhouse +gave them a fleeting glimpse of its gables and chimneys. Then the +picture vanished and the black curtain of the night fell again. + +"All right," assented Harvey, to the reply of his comrade, "I suppose we +better go without a fuss. It isn't getting out in the rain here that +makes me maddest. It's to think of Col. Witham chuckling over it in +there, snug and dry." + +"He isn't," said Henry Burns. "He never chuckles over anything. He's +madder than we are, because we got our suppers and a drying out. Come +on, dive in. It's always the first plunge that's worst." + +They stepped forth into the rain and began walking briskly down the +road. They had gone scarcely more than a rod, however, when something +brushed against Jack Harvey, and a hand was laid lightly on his arm. He +jumped back in some alarm, for they had heard no footsteps, nor dreamed +of anybody being near. + +To their relief, a girl's merry peal of laughter--coming oddly enough +from out the storm--sounded in their ears; and a slight, quaint little +figure stood in the road before them. + +"Oh, how you did jump!" she exclaimed, and laughed again, like some +weird mite of a water-sprite, pleased to have frightened so sturdy a +chap as Jack Harvey. "I won't hurt you," she continued, half-mockingly. +"I'm Bess Thornton. Gran' got the supper for you. Oh, but I'm just +furious at Witham for being so mean." + +Henry Burns and Harvey, taken all by surprise, stood staring in +amazement. A faint glimmering in the sky came to their aid and they +discerned, indistinctly, a girl, barefoot and hatless, of age perhaps +twelve, poorly dressed in a gingham frock, apparently as unmindful of +the rain as though she were, indeed, a water-sprite. + +"Well, what is it?" asked Henry Burns. "Witham doesn't say come back, +does he?" + +"Not he!" cried the little creature, impetuously, "Oh, the old +bogey-man! He's worse than the wicked giant in the book. I wish I was a +Jack-the-giant-killer. I'd--" + +Words apparently failing her to express a punishment fitting for Col. +Witham, the child shook a not very formidable fist in the direction of +the tavern, then added, sharply, "Where are you going?" + +"Up to that house on the hill," said Harvey. "They'll take us in there, +won't they?" + +The answer was not encouraging. + +"No-o-o, not much he won't," cried the girl. "Oh, don't you know old +Farmer Ellison? He's worse than Witham. He hates you." + +"Guess not," said Henry Burns. "We never saw him." + +"No, but you're from the city," said the child. "He hates all of you. +Haven't I heard him say so, and shake his old cane at Benton? He'll cane +you. He'll set the collies on you--" + +"I'd like to meet anything that I could kick!" cried Harvey, clenching +his fist. "What kind of a place is this we've got into? That's what I'd +like to know. Henry, where in this old mud-hole shall we go? Think of +it! Three miles to Benton on this road." + +"That's what I've come to tell you," said the child, "though I'd catch +it from Witham if he knew--and old Ellison, wouldn't he be mad?" + +The very idea seemed to afford her merriment, and she laughed again. +"Come, hurry along with me," she continued. "It's the old mill. I know +the way in, and there's a warm fire there. You'll have to run, though, +for I'm getting soaked through." And she started off ahead of them, like +a will-o'-the-wisp. + +"Here, hold on a minute," called Henry Burns, who had gallantly +divested himself of his sweater, while the rain drops splashed coldly on +his bare arms. "Put this on. I don't need it." + +But she tripped on, unheeding; and twice, in their strange flight toward +the mill, the lightning revealed her to them--a flitting, odd little +thing, like a figure in a dream. Indeed, when they saw her, darting +across the bridge over the brook, just ahead of them, they would +scarcely have been surprised had she vanished, as witches do that dare +not cross running water. + +But she kept on, and they came presently, all out of breath, in the +shadow of the old mill. The three gained the shelter of a roof +overhanging a narrow platform that ran along one side, and paused for a +moment to rest. + +It was a dismal place, by night, but the child seemed at ease and +without fear. + +"I know every inch of the old mill," she said, as though by way of +reassurance. "You've just got to look out where you step, and you're all +right." + +Had it not offered some sort of shelter from the storm, however, the +place would hardly have appealed to Harvey and Henry Burns. The aged +building seemed to creak and sway in the wind, as though it might fall +apart from weakness and topple into the water. The stream plunged over +the dam with a sullen roar, much as if it chafed at the barrier and +longed to sweep it altogether from its course and carry its timbers with +it. Once the lightning flashed into and through all the cobwebbed +window-panes, and the mill gave out a ghastly glare. + +"Nice, cheerful place for a night's lodging," remarked Henry Burns. +"Perhaps we'd better roost right here. I don't exactly take a fancy to +the rickety old shell." + +"Oh, but it's lovely when you're inside," exclaimed the child, almost +reprovingly. "There's the meal-bags to sleep on. And look, you can see +the stove, in through the window, red with the fire. It keeps things dry +in the mill. I've slept there twice, when gran' was after me with a +stick." + +"All alone?" asked Henry Burns, looking at the child wonderingly, and +feeling a sudden pity for her. + +"Why yes," said she. "There's nothing to be afraid of--only rats. Ugh! I +hate rats. Don't you?" + +"Go ahead," said Henry Burns, stoutly. "We'll follow you. It looks like +a real nice place, don't it, Jack?" + +"Perhaps," muttered Harvey. + +The girl crept along the platform and descended a short flight of steps +that led to the mill flume--a long box-like sluice-way that carried the +water in to turn the mill wheels. These wheels were silent now, for two +great gates at the end of the flume barred out the waters. The girl +tripped lightly along a single plank that extended over the flume. The +boys followed cautiously. + +"Can you swim?" asked Harvey. + +"Why, of course," said she. + +Presently she paused, took a few steps across a plank that led to a +window, raised that, climbed in and disappeared. + +"Come on," she called softly. "I'll show you where to step." + +"Whew!" exclaimed Harvey. "This is worse than a gale in Samoset Bay." + +"Oh, it's lovely when you get inside," said Henry Burns--"all except the +rats. Come along." + +They climbed in through the window, dropping on to a single plank on the +other side, by the child's direction. + +"Now stay here," she said, "till I come back." + +It was pitch dark and they could not see where they were; but they could +hear her light steps as she made her way in through the mill and +disappeared. + +"She'll never come back," exclaimed Harvey. "Say, wake me up with a +good, hard punch, will you, Henry? I know I'm dreaming." + +But now they perceived the dull glimmer of a lantern, turned low, being +borne toward them by an unseen hand. Then the figure of the girl +appeared, and soon the lantern's rays lighted up vaguely the interior of +the mill. + +They were, it proved, still outside the grinding-rooms, in that part of +the mill where the water would pour in to turn the wheels. It was gaunt +and unfinished, filled with the sound of dripping waters; with no +flooring, but only a scanty network of beams and planking for them to +thread their way across. + +They followed the child now over these, and came quickly to a small +sliding door, past which they entered the main room on the first floor. +There, in truth, it would seem they might not be uncomfortably housed +for the night. A small box-stove, reddened in patches by the burning +coals within, shed warmth throughout the room. There were heaps of empty +meal-bags lying here and there. And, for certain, there was no rain +coming in. + +And now, having been guided by their new acquaintance to their lodgings, +so strangely, they found themselves, almost on the moment, deserted. + +"Here you are," said the child, with somewhat of a touch of pride in her +voice. "Didn't I say I'd get you in all right? Don't turn that light up +too bright. Someone might see it from the road. And get out early in the +morning, before old Ellison comes. Good night and sleep tight. And don't +you ever, ever tell, or I'll catch it. I don't need the lantern. I can +feel my way." + +The next moment she was gone. They would have detained her, to ask more +about herself; about the mill wherein they were; to ask about Ellison, +the owner. But it was too late. They heard her steps, faintly, as she +traversed the dangerous network of planking, and then only the steady, +dripping sound came in through the little doorway. + +"Well," exclaimed Harvey, throwing himself down on a pile of meal-bags, +close by the fire, "this isn't the worst place I ever got into, if it is +old and rickety. Don't that fire feel good?" + +He drew off his dripping sweater and hung it on a box, which he set +near, and rubbed his arms vigorously. + +"This is such a funny old room I can't keep still in it," he continued. +"The fire feels great, but I want to explore and see what kind of a +place I'm in." + +"Oh, sit down and be comfortable," replied Henry Burns. "Just make +believe you're in the cabin of the _Viking_." + +"Say, Henry," exclaimed Harvey warmly to his friend's reply, "do you +know I'm half sorry we let the _Viking_ go for the summer. Of course +'twas mighty nice of Tom and Bob to ask us to spend the summer in Benton +with them; but I don't know as canoeing and fishing and that sort of +thing will do for us. I'd like to have a hand on the old _Viking's_ +wheel right now." + +"Oh, we'll get sailing, too," answered Henry Burns. "We're going to try +the pond, you know. Hello, there's a wheel, now. Looks like a ship's +wheel, at that--only rougher. You can stand your trick at that, if you +want to, while I sit by the fire." + +He was sorry he spoke, the next moment, for Harvey--never too +cautious--gave a roar of delight, and darted over to where his friend +had pointed. + +There, attached to a small shaft that protruded from the wooden +partition which divided the two lower rooms of the mill, was a large, +wooden wheel, with a series of wooden spokes attached to its rim, after +the manner of a ship's wheel. + +"Hooray!" bawled Harvey, seizing the wheel and giving it several +vigorous turns, "keep her off, did you say, skipper? Ay, ay, we'll clear +the breakers now, with water to spare. + +"Here you," addressing an imaginary sailor, "get forward lively and +clear that jib-sheet; and look out for the block. Hanged if we want a +man overboard a night like this, eh, Mister Burns?" + +"Say, Jack, I wouldn't do that," replied Henry Burns, laughing at his +comrade's antics. "You don't know what that may turn." + +"Don't I, though!" roared Harvey, jamming the wheel around with a few +more turns. "Why, you land-lubber, it turns the ship, same as any wheel. +This is the good ship, _Rattle-Bones_, bound from Benton to Boston, with +a cargo of meal--and rats. We've lost our pilot, Bess--what's her +name--and we've got to put her through ourselves. + +"Hello!" he cried suddenly, checking himself in the midst of his +nonsense and listening intently. "What's that noise? Henry, no joking, I +hear breakers off the port bow. We're going aground, or the ship's +leaking." + +Henry Burns sprang up, and both boys stood, wondering. + +Out of the darkness of the other part of the mill there came in a sound +of rushing water, plainly distinguishable above the roar of the water +flowing over the dam, and the dashing rain and the gusts of wind. Then, +as they stood, listening curiously, there came a deep, rumbling sound +out of the very vitals of the old mill; there was a gentle quivering +throughout all its timbers; a groaning in all its aged structure; a +whirring, droning sound--the wheels of the mill were turning, and there +was needed only the pushing of one of the levers to set the great +mill-stones, themselves, to grinding. + +"Jack," cried Henry Burns, "you've opened the gates. The wheels are +turning. We've got to stop that, quick. Someone might hear it." + +He sprang to the wheel, gave it a few sharp whirls, turned it again and +again with all his strength, and the rushing noise ceased. The mill, as +though satisfied that its protests against being driven to work at such +an hour had been availing, quieted once more, and the place was still. + +Still, save that the wind outside swept sharply around the corners of +the old structure, moaning about the eaves and whistling dismally in at +knot-holes. Still, save that now and again it seemed to quiver on its +foundations when some especially heavy thunder-clap roared overhead, +while the momentary flash revealed the dusty, cobwebbed interior. + +One standing, by chance, at the door of the mill that opened on to the +road, might have espied, in one of these sudden illumings of the night, +a farm wagon, drawn by a tired horse, splashing along the road past the +mill, and turning off, just below it, on the road leading to the house +on the hill. + +The driver, a tall, spare man, thin-faced and stoop-shouldered, sat with +head bent forward, to keep the rain from beating in his face. He was +letting the horse, familiar with the way, pick the road for itself. + +All at once, however, he sat upright, drew the reins in sharply, and +peered back in the direction of the mill. + +"Well, I'm jiggered!" he exclaimed. "If that isn't the mill. I must be +crazy. It can't run itself. Yes, but it is, though. What on earth's got +loose? It's twenty years and it's never done a thing like that. Back, +there. Back, confound you! I'll have a look." + +The horse most unwillingly backing and turning, headed once more toward +the main road, and then was drawn up short again. + +"Well, I must have been dreaming, sure enough," muttered the driver. "I +don't hear anything now. Well, we'll keep on, anyway. I'll have a turn +around the old place. There's more there than some folks know of. I'll +see that all's safe, if it rains pitchforks and barn-shovels. Giddap +Billy." + +A few moments later, Henry Burns and Harvey, having tucked themselves +snugly in among the meal-sacks close by the fire, with the lantern +extinguished, roused up, astounded and dismayed, at the sound of +carriage wheels just outside, and the click of a key in the lock of the +door. They had barely time to spring from their places, and dart up the +stairs that led from the middle of the main floor to the one next above, +before the door was thrown open and a man stepped within. + +They were dressed, most fortunately, for canoeing; and they had gained +the security of the upper floor, thanks to feet clad in tennis shoes, +without noise. Now they crouched at the head of the stairs, in utter +darkness, not knowing whither to move, or whether or not a step might +plunge them into some shaft. + +"It must be Ellison," whispered Harvey. "What'll we do?" + +"Nothing," answered Henry Burns, "and not make any noise about it +either. He heard your ship, Jack. Sh-h-h. We don't want to be put out +into the rain again." + +Farmer Ellison shut the door behind him, and they heard him take a few +steps across the floor; then he was apparently fumbling about in the +dark for something, for they heard him say, "It isn't there. Confound +that boy! He never puts that lantern back on the hook. If he don't catch +it, to-morrow. Hello! Well, if I've smashed that glass, there'll be +trouble." + +Farmer Ellison, stumbling across the floor, had, indeed, kicked the +lantern which had been left there by the fleeing canoeists. That it was +not broken, however, was evidenced the next moment by the gleam of its +light. + +By this gleam, the boys, peering down the stairway, could make out the +form of a tall, stoop-shouldered man, holding the lantern in one hand +and gazing about him. Now he advanced toward the little door that opened +into the outer mill, and stood, looking through, while he held the +lantern far out ahead of him. + +"Queer," he muttered. "I closed that door before I went up, or I'm +getting forgetful. But everything's all right. I don't see anything the +matter. Ho! ho! I'm getting nervous about things--and who wouldn't? When +a man has--" + +The rest of his sentence was lost, for he had stepped out on to one of +the planks. They heard him, only indistinctly, stepping from one plank +to another; but what he sought and what he did they could not imagine. + +"He must think a lot of this old rattle-trap, to mouse around here this +time of night," muttered Harvey. "What'll we do, Henry?" + +"Hide, just as soon as we get a chance," whispered Henry Burns. "He may +take a notion to come up. There! Look sharp, Jack. Get your bearings." + +Again a sharp flash of lightning gleamed through the upper windows, +lighting up the room where they were, for a moment, then leaving it +seemingly blacker than before. + +"I've got it," whispered Henry Burns. "Follow me, Jack." + +The two stole softly across to an end of the room, to where a series of +boxes were built in, under some shafting and chutes, evidently +constructed to receive the meal when ground. Henry Burns lifted the +cover of one of these. It was nearly empty, and they both squeezed in, +drawing the cover down over their heads, and leaving an opening barely +sufficient to admit air. + +They had not been a minute too soon; for presently they heard the sound +of footsteps. Farmer Ellison was coming up the stairs. Then the lantern +appeared at the top of the stairway, and the bearer came into view. + +They saw him go from one corner to another, throwing the lantern rays +now overhead among the tangle of belting, now behind some beam. Then he +paused for a moment beside one of the huge grinding stones. He put his +foot upon it and uttered an exclamation of satisfaction. + +"All right--all right," they heard him say. "Ah, the old mill looks +poor, but there's some men dress just like it, and have money in their +pockets." + +Then he passed on and up a flight of stairs leading to the third and +highest floor of the mill. He did not remain long, however, but came +down, still talking to himself. And when he kept on and descended to the +main floor, he was repeating that it was "all right," and "all safe;" +and so, finally, they heard him blow out the light, hang the lantern on +a hook and pass out through the door. The sound of the wagon wheels told +them that he was driving away. + +Quickly they scrambled out from their hiding place, descended the stairs +and crouched by the fire. + +"Well, what now?" asked Harvey. "Guess we'll turn in, eh?" + +But Henry Burns was already snuggling in among the meal-bags. + +"I'm going to sleep, Jack," he said. "Didn't you hear old Ellison say +everything was 'all right'?" + +"Yes. I wonder what he meant," said Harvey. + +"Oh, he said that just to please us," chuckled Henry Burns. "Good +night." + +The bright sun of a clearing day awoke them early the next morning, and +they lost no time in quitting the mill. + +"Jack," said Henry Burns, as he followed his companion across the +planking of the flume, "you look like an underdone buckwheat cake. +There's enough flour on your back for breakfast." + +"I'd like to eat it," exclaimed Harvey. "I'm hungry enough. Let's get +the canoe and streak it for Benton." + +They were drawing their canoe up the bank, a few moments later, to carry +it around the dam, when something away up along shore attracted their +notice. There, perched in a birch tree, in the topmost branches, with +her weight bending it over till it nearly touched the water, they espied +a girl, swinging. Then, as they looked, she waved a hand to them. + +"Hello," exclaimed Henry Burns. "It's Bess What's-her-name. She's not +afraid of getting drowned. That's sure." + +The boys swung their caps to her, and she stood upright amid the +branches and waved farewell to them, as they started for Benton. + + + + +CHAPTER IV + +THE TROUT POOL + + +The brook that flowed into Mill Stream, just above the old mill, itself, +came down from some heavily wooded hills a few miles to the northeast, +and its waters were ever cold, even in hottest summer, save in one or +two open places in the intervening meadows. It was called "Cold Brook" +by some of the farmers. Henry Burns and Harvey and Bess Thornton had +crossed this brook, by way of the bridge on their flight to the mill. + +A wayfarer, standing on the little bridge, of an afternoon, keeping +motionless and in the shadow, might sometimes see, far down in the clear +water, vague objects that looked like shadows cast by sticks. He might +gaze for many minutes and see no sign of life or motion to them. Then, +perchance, one of these same grey shadows might disappear in the +twinkling of an eye; the observer would see the surface of the water +break in a tiny whirl; the momentary flash of a silvery side, spotted +with red, appear--and the trout would vanish back into the deep water +once more. + +Let the traveller try as he might, he seldom got one of these fish. +They were too wary; "educated," the farmers called them. They certainly +knew enough not to bite. + +Tim Reardon occasionally came back to Benton with two or three of the +trout tucked inside his blouse; but he wouldn't tell how he got 'em--not +even to Jack Harvey, to whom he was loyal in all else. Most folks came +back empty-handed. + +To be sure, there was one part of the brook where the least experienced +fisherman might cast a line and draw out a fish. But that was just the +very part of all the brook where nobody was allowed. It was the pool +belonging to Farmer Ellison. + +A little more than a mile up the brook from the bridge the water came +tumbling down a series of short, abrupt cascades, into a pool, formed by +a small dam thrown across the brook between banks that were quite steep. +This pool broadened out in its widest part to a width of several rods, +bordered by thick alders, swampy land in places, and in part by a grove +of beech trees. + +Come upon this pool at twilight and you would see the trout playing +there as though they had just been let out of school. Try to catch +one--and if Farmer Ellison wasn't down upon you in a hurry, it was +because he was napping. + +You might have bought Farmer Ellison's pet cow, but not a chance to fish +in this pool. Indeed, he seldom fished it himself, but he prized the +trout like precious jewels. John and James Ellison, Farmer Ellison's +sons, and Benjamin, their cousin, fished the pool once in a great +while--and got soundly trounced if caught. It was Farmer Ellison's +hobby, this pool and its fish. He gloated over them like a miser. He +watched them leap, and counted them when they did, as a miser would +money. + +The dam held the trout in the pool downstream, and the cascades--or the +upper cascade--held them from escaping upstream. There were three +smaller cascades which a lusty trout could ascend by a fine series of +rushes and leapings. The upper water-fall was too steep to be scaled. +When the water in the brook was high there was an outlet in the dam for +it to pass through, to which a gate opened, and protected at all times +by heavy wire netting. + +Farmer Ellison's house was situated on a hill overlooking this part of +the brook, less than a half mile away. + +Some way up the brook, if one followed a path through mowing-fields from +Farmer Ellison's, and crossed a little foot-bridge over the brook, he +would come eventually upon a house, weather-beaten and unpainted, small +and showing every sign of neglect. The grass grew long in the dooryard. +A few hens scratched the weeds in what once might have been flower-beds. +The roof was sagging, and the chimney threatened to topple in the first +high wind. + +The sun was shining in at the windows of this house, at the close of an +afternoon, a few days following the adventure of Henry Burns and Harvey +in the mill. It revealed a girl, little, sturdy and of well-knit +figure, though in whose childish face there was an underlying trace of +shrewdness unusual in one so young; like a little wild creature, or a +kitten that has found itself more often chased than petted. + +The girl was busily engaged, over a kitchen fire, stirring some sort of +porridge in a dish. Clearly, hers were spirits not easily depressed by +her surroundings, for she whistled at her task,--as good as any boy +could have whistled,--and now and again, from sheer excess of animation, +she whisked away from the stove and danced about the old kitchen, all +alone by herself. + +"Isn't that oatmeal most ready, Bess?" came a querulous voice presently, +from an adjoining room. "What makes you so long?" + +"Coming, gran', right away now," replied the child. "The coffee's hot, +too. Don't it smell go-o-od? But there's only one--" + +"What?" queried the voice. + +"Nothing," said the child. + +She took a single piece of bread from a box, toasted it for a moment, +put it on a plate, poured a cup of coffee, dished out a mess of the +porridge, and carried it all into the next room. There, an elderly +woman, muttering and scolding to herself as she lay on a couch, received +it. + +"Too bad the rheumatics bother so, gran'," said the child, consolingly. +"If they last to-morrow, I'm going to tell old Witham and make him send +you something good to eat." + +"No, you won't," exclaimed the woman sharply. "Much he cares! Says he +pays me too much now for cooking; and he says I've got money tucked away +here. Wish I had." + +"So do I," said the child. "I'd buy the biggest doll you ever saw." + +"Fudge!" cried the old woman. "Why, you've outgrown 'em long ago." + +"I know it," said the child, solemnly. "But I'd just like to have a big +one, once." + +"And so you should, if we had our rights," cried Grannie Thornton, +lifting herself up on an elbow, with a jerk that brought forth an +exclamation of pain. "If he didn't own everything. If he didn't get it +all--what we used to own." + +"Old Ellison?" suggested the child. + +"Yes, Jim Ellison." Grannie Thornton sat up and shook a lean fist toward +the window that opened off toward the hill. "Oh, he bought it all right. +He paid for it, I suppose. But it's ours, by rights. We owned it all +once, from Ten Mile Wood to the bridge. But it's gone now." + +"I don't see why we don't own it now, if that's so," said the child. + +"Well, it's law doin's," muttered the woman. "Get your own supper, and +don't bother me." + +"I don't understand," said the child, as she went back to the kitchen. + +She might have understood better if Grannie Thornton had explained the +real reason: that the Thorntons had gone wild and run through their farm +property; mortgaged it and sold it out; and that Ellison, a shrewd +buyer, had got it when it was to be had cheapest. But she asked one more +question. + +"Gran'" she said, peeping in at the door, "will we ever get it again, +s'pose?" + +"Mercy sakes, how do I know!" came the answer. "It's ours now, by +rights. Will you ever stop talking?" + +The child looked wonderingly out across the fields; seated herself by +the window, and still gazed as she drank her coffee and ate her scanty +supper. She was sitting there when night shut down and hid the hill and +the brook from sight. + +The sun, himself an early riser, was up not anywhere near so early next +morning as was Bess Thornton. There was light in the east, but the sun +had not begun to roll above the hill-tops when the child stole quietly +out of bed, slipped into her few garments, and hurried barefoot, from +the room where she and Grannie Thornton slept. The old woman was still +slumbering heavily. + +"I'll not ask that old Witham for anything for gran," she said. "I'll +get her something,--and something she'll like, too. It all belongs to +us, anyway, gran' said." + +The girl gently slid the bolt of the kitchen door, stepped outside and +closed the door after her. Then she made her way out through the +neglected garden to an old apple-tree, against which there leaned a long +slender alder pole, with a line and hook attached. Throwing this over +her shoulder, she started down through the fields in the direction of +the brook. + +On the way, a few grasshoppers, roused from their early naps in the +grass by the girl's bare feet, jumped this side and that. But, with the +coolness of the hour, they seemed to have some of old Grannie Thornton's +rheumatism in their joints, for they tumbled and sprawled clumsily. The +girl quickly captured several of them, tying them up in a fold of her +handkerchief. + +Presently she came near the borders of the pool, dear to the heart of +Farmer Ellison. But the edge of the pool on the side where she walked +was boggy. Gazing sharply for some moments up at the big house on the +hill, the girl darted down to the edge of the brook close by the dam, +then suddenly skimmed across it to the other side. + +A little way above the dam, on that side, there were clumps of bushes, +among which one might steal softly to the water's edge, on good, firm +footing. The girl did this, seated herself on a little knoll behind a +screen of shrubs, baited the hook with a fat grasshopper and cast it +into the pool. + +"Grasshopper Green, go catch me a trout," she whispered; "and don't you +dare come back without a big--" + +Splash! There was a quick, sharp whirl in the still water; a tautening +of the line, a hard jerk of the rod, and the girl was drawing in a plump +fellow that was fighting gamely and wrathfully for his freedom. The fish +darted to and fro for a moment, lashed the water into a miniature +upheaval, and then swung in to where a small but strong little hand +clutched him. + +"Oh, you beauty!" she exclaimed, gazing triumphantly and admiringly at +his brilliant spots. "Didn't you know better than to try to eat poor old +Grasshopper Green? See what you get for it. Gran'll eat you now." + +She took the trout from the hook, dropped it among the shrubs, took +another "grasshopper green" from her handkerchief, and cast again. A +second and a third trout rewarded her efforts. + +But Bess Thornton, the grasshoppers and the trout were not the only ones +stirring abroad early this pleasant morning. A person not all intent +upon fishing, nor absorbed in the excitement of it, might have seen, had +he looked in the direction of the house on the hill, Farmer Ellison, +himself, appear in the doorway and gaze out over his fields and stream. + +Had one been nearer, he might have seen a look of grim satisfaction, +that was almost a smile, steal over the man's face as he saw the grass, +grown thick and heavy; grains coming in well filled; garden patches +showing thrift; cattle feeding in pasture lands, and the brook winding +prettily down through green fields and woodland. + +But the expression upon Farmer Ellison's face changed, as he gazed; his +brow wrinkled into a frown. His eyes flashed angrily. + +What was that, moving to and fro amid the alder clumps by the border of +the trout pool? There was no breeze stirring the alders; but one single +alder stick--was not it waving back and forth most mysteriously? + +Farmer Ellison gave an exclamation of anger. He knew these early morning +poachers. This would not be the first he had chased before sunrise, +taking a fish from the forbidden waters. He stepped back into the entry, +seized a stout cane, and started forth down through the fields, bending +low and screening himself as he progressed by whatsoever trees and +bushes were along the way. + +That someone was there, whipping the stream, there could be no doubt. +Yet, someone--whoever it was--must be short, or else, perchance, +crouched low in the undergrowth; for Farmer Ellison could get no glimpse +of the fisherman. + +Crack! A dead branch snapped under Farmer Ellison's heavy boot. + +Bess Thornton, gleeful,--joyous over the conquest of her third trout, +looked quickly behind her, startled by the snapping of the branch only a +few rods away. What she saw made her gasp. She almost cried out with the +sudden fright. But she acted promptly. + +Giving the pole a sharp thrust, she shoved it in under the bank, beneath +the water. The trout! The precious trout! Ah, she could not leave them. +Hastily she snatched them up, and thrust all three inside her gingham +waist, dropping them in with a wrench at the neck-band. + +"Ugh! how they squirm," she cried, softly. + +Then, creeping to the water's edge, she dived in--neatly as any trout +could have done it--and disappeared. One who did not know Bess Thornton +might well have been alarmed now, for the child seemed to be lost. The +surface of the brook where she had gone down remained unruffled. Then, +clear across on the other side, one watching sharply might have seen a +child's head appear out of the pool, at the edge of a clump of +bull-rushes; might have seen her emerge half out of water, and hide +herself from view of anyone on the opposite shore. + +She had swum the entire width of the pool under water. + +From her hiding-place she saw Farmer Ellison rush suddenly from cover +upon the very place where she had sat, fishing. She saw him run, +furiously, hither and thither, beating the underbrush with his cane, +shaking the stick wrathfully. His face showed the keenest disappointment +and chagrin. + +Up and down the shore of the pool he travelled, searching every clump +that might afford shelter. + +"Well," he exclaimed finally, "I must be going wrong, somehow. First +it's the mill I hear, when it isn't grinding, and now I see somebody +fishing when there isn't anybody. I'll go and take some of them burdock +bitters. Guess my liver must be out of order." + +Farmer Ellison, shaking his head dubiously, and casting a backward +glance now and then, strode up the hill, looking puzzled and wrathful. + +When he was a safe distance out of the way, a little figure, dripping +wet, scrambled in across the bog on the other side, and stole up +through the fields to the old tumble-down house. + +"What's that you're cooking, child?" called out a voice, some time +later, as the girl stood by the kitchen stove. + +"M-m-m-m gran', it's something awful good. Do you smell 'em?" replied +the child, gazing proudly into the fry-pan, wherein the three fat trout +sizzled. "Well, I caught 'em, myself." + +"I do declare!" exclaimed Grannie Thornton. "I didn't know the trout +would bite now anywhere but in Jim Ellison's pool." + +The girl made no reply. + +"You like 'em, don't you, gran'?" she said, gleefully, some moments +later, as she stood watching the old woman eat her breakfast with a +relish. Grannie Thornton had eaten one trout, and was beginning on the +half of another. + +"They're tasty, Bess," she replied. "Where did you catch 'em? I thought +the fishing in the brook wasn't any use nowadays." + +The girl stood for a moment, hesitating. Then she thought of the old +woman's words of the night before. + +"I caught 'em in the pool, gran'," she said. + +The iron fork with which Grannie Thornton was conveying a piece of the +trout to her mouth dropped from her hand. The last piece she had eaten +seemed to choke her. Then she tottered to her feet with a wrench that +made her groan. + +"You got 'em from the pool!" she screamed. "From the pool, do you say? +Don't yer know that's stealing? Didn't I bring you up better'n that? +What do you mean by going and being so bad, just 'cause I'm crippled and +can't look after yer? Would you grow up to be a thief, child?" + +The old woman's strength failed her, and she fell back on the couch. The +girl stood for a moment, silent, the tears rolling down her cheeks. + +"But you said 'twas all ours, anyway, gran'," she sobbed. "Will I have +to go to prison, do you think?" + +"Nonsense!" cried Grannie Thornton. "But if Ellison found it out--" + +Bess Thornton was darting out of the doorway. + +"He'll find it out now," she said, bitterly. "I'll tell him. I don't +care what happens to me." + +Benjamin Ellison, James Ellison's nephew, a heavy-set, large-boned, +clumsily-built youth, lounged lazily in the dooryard of the Ellison +homestead as the girl neared the gate, a quarter of an hour later. + +"Hello, Tomboy," he said, barring her entrance, with arms outstretched. +"Don't know as I'll let you in this way. Let's see you jump the fence. +Say, what's the matter with you? Ho! ho! Why, you look like that cat I +dropped in the brook yesterday. You've got a ducking, somehow. Your +clothes aren't all dry yet. Who--?" + +The youth's bantering was most unexpectedly interrupted. He himself +didn't know exactly how it happened. He only knew that the girl had +darted suddenly forward, that he had been neatly tripped, and that he +found himself lying on his back in a clump of burdocks. + +"Here, you beggar!" he cried, spitefully, scrambling to his feet and +making after her. "You'll get another ducking for that." + +But the girl, as though knowing human nature, instinctively ran close +beside another youth, of about the same size as Benjamin, who had just +appeared from the house, caught him by an arm and said, "Don't let him +hurt me, will you, John? I tripped him up. Oh, but you ought to have +seen him!" + +Her errand was forgotten for an instant and she laughed a merry laugh. + +The boy thus appealed to, a youth of about his cousin's size, but of a +less heavy mould, stood between her and the other. + +"You go on, Bennie," he said, laughing. "Let her alone. Oh ho, that's +rich! Put poor old Bennie on his back, did you, Bess? What do you want?" + +The girl's mirth vanished, and her face flushed. + +"I want to see your father," she said, slowly. + +"All right, go in the door there," responded John Ellison. "He's all +alone in the dining-room." + +Farmer Ellison, finishing his third cup of coffee, and leaning back in +his chair, looked up in surprise, as the girl stepped noiselessly across +the threshold and confronted him. + +"Well! Well!" he exclaimed, eying her somewhat sharply. "Why didn't you +knock at the door? Forgotten how? What do you want?" + +The girl waited for a moment before replying, shuffling her bare feet +and tugging at her damp dress. Then she seemed to gather her courage. +She looked resolutely at Farmer Ellison. + +"I want a licking, I guess," she said. + +Farmer Ellison's face relaxed into a grim smile. + +"A licking," he repeated. "Well, I reckon you deserve it, all right, if +not for one thing, then for something else." + +"I guess I do," said Bess Thornton. + +"Well, what do you want me to do about it?" queried Farmer Ellison, +looking puzzled. "Can't old Mother Thornton give it to you?" + +"No," replied the girl. "She's sick. And besides, she didn't know what I +was going to do. I did it all myself, early this morning." + +Farmer Ellison looked up quickly. An expression of suspicion stole over +his face. He looked at the girl's bedraggled dress. + +"What have you been up to?" he asked, sternly. + +"I've been stealing," replied the girl. "'Twas--'twas--" + +Farmer Ellison sprang up from his seat. + +"'Twas you, then, down by the shore?" he cried. "Confound it! I knew I +didn't need them burdock bitters all the time I was takin' 'em. Stealing +my trout, eh? Don't tell me you caught any?" + +"Only three." + +The girl half whispered the reply. + +Farmer Ellison seized the girl by an arm and shook her roughly. + +"Bring them back!" he cried. "Where are they?" + +"I can't," stammered the girl; "they're cooked." + +He shook her again. + +"You ate my trout!" he cried. "Pity they didn't choke you. Didn't you +feel like choking--eating stolen trout, eh?" + +"Gran' did," said the girl, ruefully. "But 'twas a bone, sir. She didn't +know they were stolen till I told her." + +The sound of Farmer Ellison's wrathful voice had rung through the house, +and at this moment a woman entered the room. At the sight of her, Bess +Thornton suddenly darted away from the man's grasp, ran to Mrs. Ellison, +hid her face in her dress and sobbed. + +"I didn't think 'twas so bad," she said. "I--I won't do it again--ever." + +Mrs. Ellison, whose face expressed a tenderness in contrast to the +hardness of her husband's, stroked the girl's hair softly, seated +herself in a rocking chair, and drew the girl close to her. + +"What made you take the fish?" she inquired softly. + +"Well, gran' said we ought to have the whole place by rights--" + +Mrs. Ellison directed an inquiring glance at her husband. + +"She's been complaining that way ever since I bought it," he said. + +"And gran' was sick and I thought she'd like some of the trout," +continued the girl. "She's got rheumatics and can't work this week, you +know." + +"But wouldn't it have been better to ask?" queried Mrs. Ellison, kindly. +"Didn't you feel kind of as though it was wrong, eating something you +had no right to take?" + +"I didn't," answered the girl, promptly. "I didn't eat any. I was going +to, though, till gran' said what she did--" + +"Then you haven't had anything to eat to-day?" asked Mrs. Ellison, +feeling a sudden moisture in her own eyes. + +"No," said the girl. + +"And what makes your dress so wet? Did you fall in?" + +"No-o-o," exclaimed the girl. "I swam the pool. And I did it all the way +under water. I didn't think I could, and I almost died holding my breath +so long. But I did it." + +There was a touch of pride in her tone. + +"James," said Mrs. Ellison. "Leave her to me. I'll say all that's +needed, I don't think she'll do it again." + +"Indeed I won't--truly," said Bess Thornton. + +Farmer Ellison walked to the door, with half a twinkle in his eye. +"Clear across the pool under water," he muttered to himself. "Sure +enough, I didn't need them burdock bitters." + +A few minutes later, Bess Thornton, seated at the breakfast table in the +Ellison home, was eating the best meal she had had in many a day. A +motherly-looking woman, setting out a few extra dainties for her, wiped +her eyes now and again with a corner of her apron. + +"She'd have been about her age," she whispered to herself once softly, +and bent and gave the girl a kiss. + +When Bess Thornton left the house, she carried a basket on one arm that +made Grannie Thornton stare in amazement when she looked within. + +"No, no," she said, all of a tremble, as the girl drew forth some of the +delicacies, and offered them to her. "Not a bit of it for me. I'll not +touch it. You can. And see here, don't go up on the hill again, do you +hear? Keep away from the Ellisons'." + +She had such a strange, excited, almost frightened way with her that the +child urged her no further, but put the basket away, put of her sight. + +"Mrs. Ellison asked me to come again," she said to herself, sighing. "I +don't see why gran' should care." + + + + +CHAPTER V + +SOME CAUSES OF TROUBLE + + +It was early of a Saturday afternoon, warm and sultry. Everything in the +neighbourhood of the Half Way House seemed inclined to drowsiness. Even +the stream flowing by at a little distance moved as though its waters +were lazy. The birds and the cattle kept their respective places +silently, in the treetops and beneath the shade. Only the flies, buzzing +about the ears of Colonel Witham's dog that lay stretched in the +dooryard, were active. + +They buzzed about the fat, florid face of the colonel, presently, as he +emerged upon the porch, lighted his after-dinner pipe and seated himself +in a big wooden arm-chair. But the annoyance did not prevent him from +dozing as he smoked, and, finally, from dropping off soundly to sleep. + +He enjoyed these after-dinner naps, and the place was conducive to them. +The long stretch of highway leading up from Benton had scarcely a +country wagon-wheel turning on it, to stir the dust to motion. In the +distance, the mill droned like a big beehive. Near at hand only the fish +moved in the stream--the fish and a few rowboats that swung gently at +their ropes at the end of a board-walk that led from the hotel to the +water's edge. + +The colonel slumbered on. But, far down the road, there arose, +presently, a cloud of dust, amid which there shone and glittered flashes +of steel. Then a line of bicyclists came into view, five youths, with +backs bent and heads down, making fast time. + +On they came with a rush and whirr, the boy in front pointing in toward +the Half Way House. The line of glistening, flying wheels aimed itself +fair at Colonel Witham's dog, who roused himself and stood, growling +hoarsely, with ears set back and tail between his legs. + +Then the screeching of five shrill whistles smote upon the summer +stillness, the wheels came to an abrupt stop, and the five riders +dismounted at a flying leap at the very edge of Colonel Witham's porch. +The colonel, startled from sweet repose by the combined noise of +whistles, buzzing of machines, shouts of the five riders and the yelping +of his frightened dog, awoke with a gasp and a momentary shudder of +alarm. He was enlightened, if not pacified, by a row of grinning faces. + +"Why, hello, Colonel Witham," came a chorus of voices. "Looks like old +times to see you again. Thought we'd stop off and rest a minute." + +Colonel Witham, sitting bolt upright in his chair, and mopping the +perspiration from his brow with an enormous red handkerchief, glared at +them with no friendly eyes. + +"Oh, you did, hey!" he roared. "Well, why didn't you bring a dynamite +bomb and touch that off when you arrived? Lucky for you that dog didn't +go for you. He'll take a piece out of some of you one of these days." +(Colonel Witham did not observe that the dog, at this moment, tail +between legs, was flattening himself out like a flounder, trying to +squeeze himself underneath the board walk.) "What do you want here, +anyway?" + +"Some bottled soda, Colonel," said the youngest boy, in a tone that +would seem to indicate that the colonel was their best friend. "Bottled +soda for the crowd. My treat." + +"Bottled monkey-shines and tomfoolery!" muttered Colonel Witham, arising +slowly from his chair. "I wish it would choke that young Joe Warren. +Never saw him when he wasn't up to something." + +But he went inside with them and served their order; scowling upon them +as they drank. + +"What are you doing?" he asked. + +"Making a fifty mile run, Colonel," replied one of the boys, whose +features indicated that he was an elder brother of the boy who had +previously spoken. "Tom and Bob--you remember them--are setting the pace +on their tandem for Arthur and Joe and me. Whew, but we came up +a-flying. Well, good day, we're off. You may see Tim Reardon by and by. +We left him down the road with a busted tire." + +They were away, with a shout and a whirl of dust. + +"Hm!" growled the colonel. "I'll set the dog on Tim Reardon if he comes +up the way they did. Here, Cæsar, come here!" + +The colonel gave a sharp whistle. + +But Cæsar, a yellow mongrel of questionable breeds, did not appear. A +keen vision might have seen this canine terror to evildoers poke a +shrinking muzzle a little way from beneath the board walk, emit a +frightened whine and disappear. + +Colonel Witham dozed again, and again slumber overtook him. He did not +stir when Grannie Thornton, recovered from her attack of rheumatism, +appeared at a window and shook a table-cloth therefrom; nor when Bess +Thornton, dancing out of the doorway, whisked past his chair and seated +herself at the edge of the piazza. + +The girl's keen blue eyes perceiving, presently, an object in the +distance looking like a queer combination of boy and bicycle, she ran +out from the dooryard as it approached. Tim Reardon, an undersized, +sharp-eyed youngster, rather poorly dressed and barefoot, wheeling his +machine laboriously along, was somewhat of a mournful-looking figure. +The girl held up a warning hand as he approached. + +"Hello," said the boy. "What's the matter?" + +The girl pointed at the sleeping colonel. + +"Said he'd set the dog on you if you came around the way the others +did," replied Bess Thornton. "They woke him up. My! wasn't he mad? +Here," she added, handing a small box to the boy, "George Warren left +this for you. Said they wanted to make time. That's why they didn't stop +for you." + +"Thanks," said the boy. "Thought I'd got to walk clear back to Benton. +But I was going to have a swim first. Guess I'll have it, anyway. It's +hot, walking through this dust." + +"I'll tell you where to go," said the girl. "Do you know what's fun? See +that tree way up along shore there, the one that hangs out over the +water? Well, I climb that till it bends down, and then I get to swinging +and jump." + +Tim Reardon gave her an incredulous glance, with one eye half closed. + +"Oh, I don't care whether you believe it or not," said the girl. "But +I'll show you some time. Can't now. Got to wash dishes. Don't wake him +up, or you'll catch it." + +She disappeared through the doorway, and Tim Reardon, leaving his wheel +leaning against a corner of the house, went up along shore. In another +half hour he returned, took from his pocket the box the girl had given +to him, got therefrom an awl, a bottle of cement and some thin strips of +rubber, and began mending the punctured tire of the bicycle. The tire +was already somewhat of a patched affair, bearing evidences of former +punctures and mendings. + +"It's Jack's old wheel," he remarked by way of explanation to Bess +Thornton, who had reappeared and was interestedly watching the +operation. "He's going to give me one of his new tires," he added, "the +first puncture he gets." + +"Why don't you put a tack in the road?" asked the girl promptly. + +Tim Reardon grinned. "Not for Jack," he said. + +"Say," asked the girl, "what's Witham mad with those boys about? Why +did he send 'em out of the hotel the other night?" + +"Oh, that's a long story," replied Tim Reardon; "I can't tell you all +about it. Witham used to keep the hotel down to Southport, and he was +always against the boys, and now and then somebody played a joke on him. +Then, when his hotel burned, he thought the boys were to blame; but Jack +Harvey found the man that set the fire, and so made the colonel look +foolish in court." + +But at this moment a yawn that sounded like a subdued roar indicated +that Colonel Witham was rousing from his nap. He stretched himself, +opened his eyes blankly, and perceived the boy and girl. + +"Well," he exclaimed, "you're here, eh? Wonder you didn't come in like a +wild Indian, too. What's the matter?" + +"Got a puncture," said Little Tim. + +The colonel, having had the refreshment of his sleep, was in a better +humour. He was a little interested in the bicycle. + +"Queer what new-fangled ideas they get," he said. "That's not much like +what I used to ride." + +Little Tim looked up, surprised. + +"Why, did you use to ride a wheel?" he asked. + +"Did I!" exclaimed Colonel Witham, reviving old recollections, with a +touch of pride in his voice. "Well, now I reckon you wouldn't believe I +used to be the crack velocipede rider in the town I came from, eh?" + +Little Tim, regarding the colonel's swelling waist-band and fat, puffy +cheeks, betrayed his skepticism in looks rather than in speech. Colonel +Witham continued. + +"Yes, sir," said he, "there weren't any of them could beat me in those +days. Why, I've got four medals now somewhere around, that I won at +county fairs in races. 'Twasn't any of these wire whirligigs, either, +that we used to ride. Old bone-shakers, they were; wooden wheels and a +solid wrought iron backbone. You had to have the strength to make that +run. Guess some of these spindle-legged city chaps wouldn't make much of +a go at that. I've got the old machine out in the shed there, somewhere. +Like to see it?" + +"I know where it is," said Bess Thornton. "I can ride it." + +"You ride it!" exclaimed Colonel Witham, staring at her in amazement. +"What?" + +"Yes," replied the girl; "but only down hill, though. It's too hard to +push on the level. I'll go and get it." + +"Well, I vum!" exclaimed Colonel Witham, as the girl started for the +shed. "That girl beats me." + +"Look out, I'm coming," called a childish voice, presently. + +The door of the shed was pushed open, and Bess Thornton, standing on a +stool, could be seen climbing into the saddle of what resembled closely +a pair of wagon wheels connected by a curving bar of iron. She steadied +herself for a moment, holding to the side of the doorway; then pushed +herself away from it, came down the plank incline, and thence on to the +path leading from the elevation on which the shed stood, at full speed. +Her legs, too short for her feet to touch the pedals as they made a +complete revolution, stuck out at an angle; but she guided the wheel and +rode past Tim Reardon and the colonel, triumphantly. When the wheel +stopped, she let it fall and landed on her feet, laughing. + +"Here it is, Colonel Witham," said she, rolling it back to where he +stood. "Let's see you ride it." + +Colonel Witham, grasping one of the handle-bars, eyed the velocipede +almost longingly. + +"No," he said. "I'm too old and stout now. Guess my riding days are +over. But I used to make it go once, I tell you." + +"Go ahead, get on. You can ride it," urged Tim Reardon. "It won't +break." + +"Oh no, it will hold me, all right," said Colonel Witham. "We didn't +have any busted tires in our day. Good iron rim there that'll last for +ever." + +"Just try it a little way," said Bess Thornton. + +"I never saw anybody ride that had won medals," said Tim Reardon. + +Colonel Witham's pride was rapidly getting the better of his discretion. + +"Oh, I can ride it," he said, "only it's--it's kind of hot to try it. +Makes me feel sort of like a boy, though, to get hold of the thing." + +The colonel lifted a fat leg over the backbone and put a ponderous foot +on one pedal, while the drops of perspiration began to stand out on his +forehead. + +"Get out of the way," he shouted. "I'll just show you how it +goes--hanged if I don't." + +The colonel had actually gotten under way. + +Little Tim Reardon doubled up with mirth, and rolled over on the grass. + +"Looks just like the elephant at the circus," he cried. + +"Sh-h-h, he'll hear you," whispered Bess Thornton. + +Colonel Witham was certainly doing himself proud. A new thrill of life +went through him. He thought of those races and the medals. It was an +unfortunate recollection, for it instilled new ambitions within him. He +had ridden up the road a few rods, had made a wide turn and started +back; and now, as he neared the hotel once more, his evil genius +inspired him to show the two how nicely he could make a shorter turn. + +He did it a little too quickly; the wheel lurched, and Colonel Witham +felt he was falling. He twisted in the saddle, gave another sharp yank +upon the handle-bars--and lost control of the wheel. A most unfortunate +moment for such a mishap; for now, as the wheel righted, it swerved to +one side and, with increased speed, ran upon the board walk that led +down to the boat-landing. + +The walk descended at quite a decided incline to the water's edge. It +was raised on posts above the level of the ground, so that a fall from +it would mean serious injury. There was naught for the luckless colonel +to do but sit, helpless, in the saddle and let the wheel take its +course. + +Helpless, but not silent. Beholding the fate that was inevitable, the +colonel gave utterance to a wild roar of despair, which, together with +the rumbling of the wheels above his head, drove forth his dog from his +hiding-place. Cæsar, espying this new and extraordinary object rattling +down the board walk, and mindful of the agonizing shrieks of his master, +himself pursued the flying wheel, yelping and barking and adding his +voice to that of Colonel Witham. + +There was no escape. The heavy wheel, bearing its ponderous weight of +misery, and pursued to the very edge of the float by the dog, plunged +off into the water with a mighty splash. Colonel Witham, clinging in +desperation to the handle bars, sank with the wheel in some seven feet +of water. Then, amid a whirl and bubbling of the water like a boiling +spring, the colonel's head appeared once more above the surface. Choking +and sputtering, he cried for help. + +"Help! help!" he roared. "I'm drowning. I can't swim." + +"No, but you'll float," bawled Little Tim, who was darting into the shed +for a rope. + +Indeed, as the colonel soon discovered, now that he was once more at the +surface, it seemed really impossible for him to sink. He turned on his +back and floated like a whale. + +And at this moment, most opportunely, there appeared up the road the +line of bicyclists returning. + +They were down at the shore shortly--Tom Harris, Bob White, George, +Arthur and Joe Warren--just as Little Tim emerged from the shed, with an +armful of rope. + +"Here, you catch hold," he said, "while I make fast to the colonel." The +next moment, he was overboard, swimming alongside Colonel Witham. + +"Look out he don't grab you and drown you both," called George Warren. + +Little Tim was too much of a fish in the water to be caught that way. +The most available part of Colonel Witham to make fast to, as he floated +at length, was his nearest foot. Tim Reardon threw a loop about that +foot, then the other; and the boys ashore hauled lustily. + +The colonel, more than ever resembling a whale--but a live one, inasmuch +as he continued to bellow helplessly--came slowly in, and stranded on +the shore. They drew him well in with a final tug. + +"Here, quit that," he gurgled. "Want to drag me down the road?" The +colonel struggled to his feet, his face purple with anger. + +"Now get out of here, all of you!" he roared. "There's always trouble +when you're around. Tim Reardon, you keep away from here, do you +understand?" + +"Yes sir," replied Tim Reardon, wringing his own wet clothes; and then +added, with a twinkle in his eyes, "but ain't you going to show us those +medals, Colonel Witham?" + +It was lucky for Tim Reardon that he was fleet of foot. The colonel made +a rush at him, but Tim was off down the road, leaping into the saddle +of his mended wheel, followed by the others. + +"Don't you want us to raise the velocipede, so you can ride some more?" +called young Joe Warren, as he mounted his own wheel. + +The colonel's only answer was a wrathful shake of his fist. + +"Colonel Witham," said Grannie Thornton, as her employer entered the +hotel, a few minutes later, "here's a note for you, from Mr. Ellison. +Guess he wants to see you about something." + +"Hm!" exclaimed the colonel, opening the note, and dampening it much in +doing so, "Jim Ellison, eh? More of his queer business doings, I reckon. +He's a smart one, he is," he added musingly, as he waddled away to his +bed-room to change his dripping garments; then, spying his own face in +the mirror: 'What's the matter with you, Daniel Witham? Aren't you +smart, too? In all these dealings, isn't there something to be made?' + +Colonel Witham, rearraying his figure in a dry suit of clothing, was to +be seen, a little later, on the road to the mill, walking slowly, and +thinking deeply as he went along. He was so engrossed in his reflections +that he failed to notice the approach of a carriage until it was close +upon him. He looked up in surprise as a pleasant, gentle voice accosted +him. + +"Good afternoon, Colonel Witham," it said. + +The speaker was a middle-aged, sweet faced woman--the same that had +appeased the wrath of her husband against Bess Thornton. She leaned out +of the carriage now and greeted Colonel Witham with cordiality. + +"Oh, how-dye-do," replied Colonel Witham abruptly, and returning her +smile with a frown. He passed along without further notice of her +greeting, and she started up the horse she had reined in, and drove +away. + +Only once did Colonel Witham turn his head and gaze back at the +disappearing carriage. Then he glowered angrily. + +"I don't want your smiles and fine words," he muttered. "You were too +good for me once. Just keep your fine words to yourself. I don't want +'em now." + +Colonel Witham, in no agreeable mood, went on and entered at the office +door of the mill. A tall, sharp-faced man, seated on a stool at a high +desk, looked up at his entrance. One might see at a glance that here was +a man who looked upon the world with a calculating eye. No fat and +genial miller was James Ellison. No grist that came from his mill was +likely to be ground finer than a business scheme put before him. He eyed +Colonel Witham sharply. + +"Aha, Colonel," he exclaimed, in a slightly sneering tone, "bright and +cheery as ever, I see. I thought I'd like to have you drop in and +scatter a little sunshine. Sit down. Have a pipe?" + +Colonel Witham, accepting the proffered clay and and the essentials for +loading it, sat back in a chair, and puffed away solemnly, without +deigning to answer the other's bantering. + +James Ellison continued figuring at his desk. + +"Well," said Colonel Witham after some ten minutes had passed, "Suppose +you didn't get me down here just to smoke. What d'ye want?" + +"Oh, I'm coming to that right away," replied Ellison, still writing. +"You know what I want, I guess." He turned abruptly in his seat, and his +keen face shaded with anger. He pointed a long lean finger in the +direction of the town of Benton. "You know 'em, Dan Witham," he said, +"as well as I do. Though you didn't get skinned as I did. You didn't go +down to town, as I did twenty odd years ago, with eight thousand +dollars, and come back cleaned out. You didn't invest in mines and +things they said were good as gold, and have 'em turn out rubbish. You +didn't lose a fortune and have to start all over again. But you know em, +eh?" + +Colonel Witham nodded assent, and added mentally, "Yes, and I know you, +too. Benton don't have the only sharp folks." + +"And now," added James Ellison, "when I've got some of it back by hard +work, you know how I keep it from them, and from others, too. Well, +here's some more of the papers. The mill and a good part of the farm and +some more land 'round here go to you this time. All right, eh? You get +your pay on commission. Here's the deeds conveying it all to you--for +valuable consideration--valuable consideration, see?" + +The miller gave a prodigious wink at his visitor, and laughed. + +"You don't mind being thought pretty comfortably fixed, eh--all these +properties put in your name? Don't do you any harm, and people around +here think you're mighty smart. Your deeds from me are all recorded, eh? +People look at the record, and what do they see? All this stuff in your +name. Well, what do I get out of that? You know. There are some claims +they don't bother me with, because they think I'm not so rich as I am. +There's property out of their reach, if anything goes wrong with some +business I'm in. + +"Why? Well, we know why, all right, you and I. Here's the deeds of the +same property which you give back to me. Only I don't have them put on +record. I keep them hidden--up my sleeve--clear up my sleeve, don't I?" + +"You keep 'em hidden all right, I guess," responded Colonel Witham; and +made a mental observation that he'd like to know where the miller really +did hide them. + +"So here they are," continued the miller. "It's a little more of the +same game. The property's all yours--and it isn't. You'll oblige, of +course, for the same consideration?" + +Colonel Witham nodded assent, and the business was closed. + +And, some time later, as Colonel Witham plodded up the road again, he +uttered audibly the wish he had formed when he had sat in the miller's +office. + +"I'd like to know where he keeps those deeds hidden," he said, +apparently addressing his remark to a clump of weeds that grew by the +roadside. The weeds withholding whatever information they may have had +on the question, Colonel Witham snipped their heads off with a vicious +sweep of his stick, and went on. "I don't know as it would do me any +good to know," he continued, "but I'd just like to know, all the same." + +And James Ellison, his visitor departed, wandered about for some time +through the rooms of his mill. One might have thought, from the sly and +confidential way in which he drew an eye-lid down now and again, as he +passed here and there, that the wink was directed at the mill itself, +and that the crazy old structure was really in its owner's confidence; +that perhaps the mill knew where the miller hid his papers. + +At all events, James Ellison, sitting down to his supper table that +evening, was in a genial mood. + +"Lizzie," he said, smiling across the table at his wife, "I saw an old +beau of yours to-day--Dan Witham. He didn't send any love to you, +though." + +"No," responded Mrs. Ellison, and added, somewhat seriously, "and he has +no love for you, either. I hope you don't have much business dealing +with him." + +"Ho, he's all right, is Dan Witham," returned her husband. "He's gruff, +but he's not such a bad sort. Those old times are all forgotten now." + +"I'm not so certain of that, James," said Mrs. Ellison. + + + + +CHAPTER VI + +CAPTURING AN INDIAN + + +Tim Reardon, a barefoot, sunburned urchin, who might be perhaps twelve +years old, judging from his diminutive figure, and anywhere from that to +fifteen, by the shrewdness of his face, stood, with arms akimbo, gazing +in rapturous admiration at a bill-board. It was a gorgeous and thrilling +sight that met his eyes. Lines in huge coloured letters, extending +across the top of the board, proclaimed the subject of the display: + + Bagley & Blondin's Gigantic Circus + Two Colossal Aggregations in One + Stupendous--Startling--Scintillating + Moral--Scientific + Applauded by all the Crowned Heads of Europe. + +The pictorial nightmare that bore evidence to the veracity of these +assertions was indeed wonderful and convincing. A trapeze performer, +describing a series of turns in the air that would clearly take him +from one end of the long bill-board to the other, was in manifest +peril, should he miss the swinging trapeze at the finish of his +flight, of landing within the wide open jaws of an enormous +hippopotamus--designated in the picture as, "The Behemoth of Holy Writ." +An alligator, sitting upright, and bearing the legend that he was one of +the "Sacred Crocodiles of the Nile, to which the Indian Mothers Throw +Their Babes," was leering with a hopeful smile at the proximity of a +be-spangled lady equestrian, balanced on the tip of one toe upon the +back of a galloping horse. + +The jungle element was generously supplied by troops of trumpeting +elephants, tigers with tails lashing, bloated serpents dangling +ominously from the overhanging tree branches, while bands of lean and +angular monkeys jabbered and chattered throughout all the picture. + +Little Tim heaved a sigh. + +"Gee!" he exclaimed. "I'd like to see that Royal Bengal tiger that ate +up three of his keepers alive." + +Little Tim, fired with the very thought, and emulative of an athlete in +distorted attitude and gaudy fleshings, proceeded to turn himself upside +down and walk upon his hands, waving his bare feet fraternally at the +pictured gymnasts. He found himself suddenly caught by the ankles, +however, and slung roughly across someone's shoulder. + +"Hello, Tim," said his captor, good naturedly, "going to join the +circus?" + +Little Tim grinned, sheepishly. + +"Guess not, Jack," he replied. "Say, wouldn't you like to see that tiger +eat up a keeper?" + +Jack Harvey laughed, setting Tim on his feet again. + +"I'll bet that tiger isn't as great a man-eater as old Witham," he said. +"They put that in to make people think he's awful fierce, so they'll go +to the show. You going?" + +Tim Reardon, thrusting his hands into his pockets and closing his +fingers on a single five cent piece, three wire nails and a broken +bladed jack-knife, looked expressively at Harvey. + +"I dunno," he replied. "P'raps so." + +Jack Harvey took the hint. + +"Come along with us," he said. "Where's the rest of the crew?" + +"They're going--got the money," said Tim. + +Harvey looked surprised. His crew, so called because the three other +members of it besides Tim Reardon had sailed with him on his sloop in +Samoset bay, were generally hard up. + +"All right," said Harvey, "you can go with Henry Burns and George Warren +and me. Come on. Let's go down town and see the parade." + +The blare of trumpets and the clashing of brass was shaking the very +walls of the city of Benton. A steam calliope, shrieking a tune +mechanically above the music of the band and the roar of carts, was +frightening farmers' horses to the point of frenzy. Handsome, sleek +horses, stepping proudly, were bearing their gaily dressed riders in +cavalcade. And the rumble of the heavy, gilded carts gave an undertone +to the sound. Bagley & Blondin's great moral and scientific show was +making its street parade, prior to the performance. + +Tim Reardon stood between Henry Burns and Jack Harvey on a street +corner, with George Warren close by. Tim Reardon's eyes seemed likely to +pop clean out of his head. + +"There he is! There he is, Jack!" he exclaimed all at once, fairly +gasping with excitement. + +"Who is?" asked Harvey. + +"The man-eating tiger," cried Tim. "It says so on the cage." + +Harvey chuckled. "I'd like to throw you in there, Tim," he said. "He'd +be scared to death of you. Here's the real thing coming, though. Say, +what do you think of that?" + +The float that approached was certainly calculated to fire the brain of +youth. On the platform, open to view from all sides, there was set up in +the centre the trunk of a small tree, to which was securely bound, by +hand and foot, the figure of a huntsman, clad in garb of skins, buckskin +leggings and moccasins. A powder horn was slung picturesquely from one +shoulder, and a great hunting-knife--alas useless to him now--stuck +conspicuously in his belt. + +Around this hapless captive there moved the figures of three savages, +their faces streaked with various hues of paint, their war-bonnets of +eagles' feathers flaunting, and wonderful to behold. Each bore in his +right hand a gleaming tomahawk, which now and then was raised menacingly +toward the unfortunate huntsman. Again one would put his hand to his +lips, and a shrill war-whoop would rival the screaming of the steam +calliope. + +Close by, a wigwam, of painted skins thrown over a light frame-work of +poles, added to the picture. At the entrance to this there stood now a +man in ordinary dress, who thus addressed the crowd through a megaphone: + +"Ladies and Gentlemen, this historical representation which you now see +before you is a scene from real life. It represents the perils of the +plainsman in the midst of bands of cruel savages. It shows a captive +bound to the stake and about to be put to torture. (Increased activity +on the part of the Indians, and a suggestive squirming on the part of +the prisoner.) + +"Ladies and Gentlemen, this daring scout was one of General Miles's most +trusted and heroic followers. (Name not mentioned.) He was captured by +these three chiefs, Leaping Panther, Crazy Bear and Red Bull--a kinsman +of the famous Sitting Bull--after one of the most desperate struggles +ever known, and after twice disarming his adversaries and nearly killing +them all. (Revengeful gestures on the part of the three toward the +captive.) + +"Ladies and Gentlemen, the continuation of this thrilling adventure, the +rescue of this famous scout and the capture of Leaping Panther, Crazy +Bear and Red Bull, will be enacted under canvas at the great Bagley & +Blondin moral and scientific show this afternoon and evening." + +"Hi! yi!" yelled Little Tim, "Real Injuns, Jack. Look at the big one, +with the red streak across his chin." + +Tim's shrill voice rang out above the noise of the procession. Perhaps +it may have penetrated, even, to the group upon the float; for, at that +moment, the great chief, Red Bull--kinsman to the sitting +variety--turned and shook his tomahawk in the direction of the group of +boys. Little Tim squealed in an ecstasy of pleasurable alarm. + +"Look out; he'll get you, Tim," said George Warren. + +"Gee!" exclaimed Little Tim. "Bet I wouldn't like to be tied to that +tree, though." + +"Why not?" asked Jack Harvey, grinning at Tim's serious expression. + +"Because, how'd I know they wouldn't forget some time and go ahead and +really scalp me? Oh, they might do it, all right. You needn't laugh. I +wouldn't like to be mas-sick-ered the way they were at that Fort +some-thing-or-other in the Last of the Mohigginses." + +"Ho, you mean the 'Last of the Mohicans,'--the book I told you about, +eh?" said Henry Burns--"all about Uncas and the rest." + +"That's it," cried Little Tim. "Wouldn't I like to be Un-cuss, though, +and scalp Red Bull." + +"Fine!" laughed Henry Burns. "Come on, we'll go up to the circus +grounds." + +To Little Tim the afternoon was one glorious dream; a dream through +which there pranced horses in bright trappings, ridden by be-spangled +men and women; chariots rumbled in mad races; bicyclists shot down +fearful inclines; and the whole proceedings made glad to the heart of +the youngster by the roaring of wild beasts. + +The impending torture of Gen. Miles's scout was happily averted by the +timely arrival of a band of mounted soldiers, whose cracking rifles laid +in the dust the painted warriors--barely in time to save Little Tim, +also, from utter collapse. He emerged from the tent, some hours later, +wild eyed; so freighted down with red lemonade and peanuts that if +dropped overboard he must surely have sunk without a struggle. + +Evening came, and with it the night performance. Night found Little Tim +again on the grounds. True, he had no money for a ticket, but it was a +delight to wander about the grounds; to climb upon the great carts and +be chased off by angry circus men. The gaudy canvases, stretched here +and there, reminded him of what he had seen inside; and he eyed them +affectionately. + +Once there was a thrill of excitement for him, when the Indian warriors, +their evening act over, hurried past him in a group and disappeared +within the opening of a small tent, on the outskirts of the grounds. + +Time passed, and it had struck nine o'clock a half hour ago. The show +would be over in half an hour more. Young Joe Warren, who had seen the +main circus in the afternoon and who was strolling in and about the +side-shows, suddenly found himself accosted by Tim Reardon, who gasped +out a greeting as though the words choked him. + +"Hello, Tim," replied Joe, eying him with astonishment. "Say, what's the +matter? Any of the snakes got loose? You look as though they were after +you." + +Tim was breathless, sure enough, as though he were being pursued. His +very eyes seemed to have grown larger, and he was hardly able to stand +still long enough to reply. + +"Come on, Joe," he whispered. "I'll show you something. Better'n snakes, +a big sight. Easy now, don't talk. Follow me." + +Young Joe Warren, a boy slightly taller than Tim and perhaps a year +older, ready at all times for a lark, followed his barefoot guide, but +on the look-out, half suspecting it was one of Tim's tricks. They +threaded their way through a maze of carts and circus paraphernalia, out +to the edge of the grounds; past a line of small tents, used as the +encampment of the performers, to a grove of maple trees skirting the +field. + +"I say, Tim, what's up, anyway?" inquired Joe Warren presently. "You +needn't think you can fool me--" + +"Sh-h-h," warned Tim, turning and raising a hand to silence his +companion. "Here he is." + +He took a few steps forward, grasped Joe Warren's arm, brought him to a +stand-still and pointed toward a figure that reclined upon a blanket +spread beneath a tree. + +"Well, what of it--what is it?" asked Joe Warren, "I don't see anything +but somebody asleep." + +Tim Reardon again gestured for silence and induced his companion to +approach nearer. Whereupon he pointed gleefully at the face of the +sleeper. Young Joe, bending down softly, beheld the painted features of +the great chief, Red Bull. + +"Hmph!" he exclaimed. "It's only one of the Injuns. Saw 'em at the show +this afternoon." + +Little Tim, in reply, seized Young Joe mysteriously by an arm, drew him +away a few paces and whispered something, excitedly. + +Young Joe gave a subdued roar. + +"Cracky!" he cried, doubling up. "Tim, you're the craziest youngster. +What put it into your head? We couldn't do it." + +"No, you and I couldn't," answered Tim; "but the whole of us could--Jack +Harvey and Henry Burns, and the rest of the fellers. Gee! Joe, just +think of it. A real live Injun--a live one-'twould be just like the Last +of the Mohigginses." + +"What would we do with him if we got him?" asked Joe. + +"Nothin'," replied Little Tim--"Oh, yes, we could,--take him off up +stream to the camp and--dance 'round him, like they do in the show." + +"Come on," said Joe Warren. "Let's find Jack and Henry Burns and +George. They won't do it, though." + +If one could have seen Henry Burns's eyes twinkle, when they had found +the three a few moments later, however, they would have thought +differently. + +"Tim, you're all right," he said. "But how could we get him away from +here?" + +"Why, get the wagon," said Young Joe. "Come on, George, will you? I'll +go down to the house for it, if you'll join. 'Twon't take more'n half an +hour. You find Tom and Bob; they're 'round somewhere. Then wait here +till I come back." + +Young Joe, reading a half consent in his elder brother's hesitation, +darted away. George Warren was not keen for it, however. + +"Tim, you and Joe are a couple of young idiots," he exclaimed. "We're +not going to do any such fool thing as that. We couldn't do it, in the +first place." + +"Yes we can," argued Little Tim. "He ain't got his tomahawk nor any +scalping knife. And he ain't very much bigger than Jack." + +Harvey drew himself up and felt of his muscle. + +"Tom and Bob could lick him, without the rest of us," continued Little +Tim. + +Tom and Bob, who had been added to the group, likewise flexed their +biceps and thought how strong they were. + +"I ain't afraid," said Harvey. + +"Nor I," said Tom and Bob, respectively. + +Thus they argued. A half hour went by, and the band inside the tent was +making loud music as a youth darted up to them, out of breath with +running. + +"Come on," cried Young Joe, softly. "I've got the wagon over back in the +grove, and some ropes, and some cloth. Come and take a look." + +To look was to yield. The sleeping, snoring figure of the great chief, +Red Bull, gave no signs of suspicious dreams when, some moments later, a +band of boys approached noiselessly the place where he lay. The moment +could not have been timed more opportunely for success. The circus was +about breaking up for the night, and the great tent was buzzing and +resounding with noise. + +A half dozen figures suddenly sprang forward upon the slumbering +chieftain. The arms of the dread Red Bull, seized respectively by Jack +Harvey and Tom Harris, were quickly bound behind him. A light rope, +wound securely about his ankles by George Warren, and made fast in +sailor fashion, rendered him further helpless; while, at the same time, +a long strip of cloth, procured by Young Joe for the purpose, and +swathed about his head, stifled his roars of rage and fright. Red Bull, +the great Indian chief, the terror of the plains, was most assuredly a +captive--an astounded and helpless Indian, if ever there was one. + +Borne on the sturdy shoulders of his pale-face captors, Red Bull, bound +and swathed, uttering smothered ejaculations through the cloth, was +conveyed to the waiting wagon and driven away. + +A little less than an hour from this time there arrived at the shore of +Mill Stream a strange party, the strangest beyond all doubt that had +come down to these shores since the days when the forefathers of circus +chiefs had skimmed its waters in their birch canoes, carrying their +captives not to pretended but to real torture. + +Two canoes, brought down from an old shed, were launched now and floated +close to shore. Into one of these was carried the helpless and enraged +Red Bull, where he was propped up against a thwart. In front of him, on +guard, squatted Little Tim. Jack Harvey and Henry Burns took their +places, respectively, at stern and bow, equipped with paddles. The +second canoe was hastily filled with the four others. They made a heavy +load for each canoe, and brought them down low in the water. + +"Easy now," cautioned Tom Harris, as the party started forth. "We're +well down to the gunwales. No monkeying, or we'll upset." + +They proceeded carefully and silently up stream, with the moon coming up +over the still water to light them on their way. + +A mile and a half up the stream, they paused where a shabby structure of +rough boards, eked out with odds and ends of shingle stuff, with a rusty +funnel protruding from the roof, showed a little back from shore, on a +cleared spot amid some trees. + +"Here's the camp," cried Harvey; and they grounded the canoes within its +shadow. + +The chief, Red Bull, clearly not resigned to his fate, but squirming +helplessly, was conveyed up the bank and set down against a convenient +stump. The canoes were drawn on shore, and the party gathered about him. + +"What are we going to do with him, anyway, now we've got him?" inquired +George Warren. + +"Oh, he's got to be tried by a war council," said Henry Burns; "and all +of us are scouts, and we've got to tell how many pale-faces he's +scalped, and then he's got to be sentenced to be put to torture and +scalped and--and all that sort of thing. And then we'll dance around him +and--and then by and by--well, I suppose we'll have to let him go. I +don't know just how, but we'll arrange that. But we've got to have a +fire first, to make it a real war council." + +They had one going shortly, down near the shore, and casting a weird +glare upon the scene. + +After a preliminary dance about their captive, in which they lent colour +to the picture by brandishing war-clubs and improvised tomahawks, they +sat in solemn council on the chief. + +"Fellow scouts," said Henry Burns, addressing his assembled followers, +"this is the great Indian chief, Magua, the dog of the Wyandots--" + +"Whoopee!" yelled Little Tim, "that's him. He killed Un-cuss, didn't he, +Henry?" + +"The brave scout has spoken well," replied Henry Burns. "This is the +cruel dog of the Wyandots; slayer of the brave Uncas; shot at by +Hawkeye, the friend of the Delawares--" + +"I thought you said he killed him--in the book," cried Little Tim. + +"Shut up, Tim," said Joe Warren. + +"He's alive again," declared Henry Burns, solemnly. "He was only +wounded. + +"Here is the cruel Huron," continued Henry Burns, "delivered into our +hands by that daring scout who knows no fear." + +Little Tim grinned joyously at this praise from his leader. + +"What shall we do with our captive?" solemnly inquired Henry Burns. +"Shall we show mercy to the slayer of the brave Uncas? Shall we be women +and let him go, to roam the forests and ravage the homes of our +settlers, or shall he be put to death?" + +"He must die," growled Scout Harvey. "The daring leader has spoken well. +Is it not so, men?" + +The doom of Red Bull, otherwise Magua, the dog of the Wyandots, was +declared. + +The death of the captive followed swiftly--in pantomime--the brave +scouts, under the leadership of Henry Burns, performing a series of +dances about the helpless one, accomplishing his end with imaginary +tomahawk blows. + +"Now he must be scalped," said Henry Burns. "What say you, men, shall we +cast the lot to see who takes the scalp of Magua, the great chief of the +Hurons?" + +It was done. The short stick was drawn by Little Tim--to his +inexpressible joy. + +"Take the scalping-knife, brave scout," said Henry Burns, handing him a +huge wooden affair, whittled out for the purpose. "The scalp of Magua +the chief shall hang at the cabin of Swift Foot, the scout who captured +him." + +Swift Foot advanced to perform the last act in the drama. It was a weird +and dreadful moment. The fire-light cast its flickering glow upon the +doomed chief, his captors and the executioner. The form of Magua was +seen to quiver, as though life was indeed not all extinct. + +Swift Foot performed his grim office with a flourish. The wooden +scalping-knife descended upon the gorgeous head-piece of the victim, +which the scout grasped with his other hand and pulled as he drew the +knife. + +But at this moment the form beneath the knife wriggled in the hands of +the executioner; lurched to one side, and the head-piece fell away, so +true to life that an involuntary shudder went through the group, as +though the act had really been accomplished. The flaunting head-piece of +eagle feathers fell indeed away, clutched in the hand of Little Tim. +And, at the same instant, by some loosening of the cloth, that, too, +dropped down, freeing the jaws of the Indian chief. + +To their amazement, the fire-light shone now not on the straight black +hair of an Indian, but upon a towsled top-knot of unmistakable red. +While from the parted lips of the figure there issued a sound that was +not of the child of the forest. + +"Tim Reardon, yer little divvle," cried the victim, glaring at the +astounded youth with unfeigned rage, "it's yerself I'll be takin the +hair off--yer little scallerwag--an the hide of yer, too. Sure an ye'll +be doin some lively dancin' around when I git me two hands on yer. +Scoutin' is it ye'll be doin? I'll scout ye and the likes of all er ye. +Lemme go, I tell yer,--" + +The scalping knife dropped from the palsied hand of Swift Foot, the +scout. He stood, glaring wildly at the outraged captive. + +"Danny O'Reilly!" he exclaimed, gasping for breath. "Oh, gimminy +crickets!" + +"Yes, an it's Danny O'Reilly that'll be scalpin' ye all over from head +to foot to-morrow," cried the captive, wriggling in his bonds. "Lemme +out er this, I tell yez. Sure an I've got a hand out now, and in a +minnit I'll be showin' the likes of ye what it is to take an honest man +away from his job with the circus." + +True enough, in some way, by his wriggling, Danny O'Reilly was rapidly +emerging, not only from his disguise as an Indian chief, but from his +bonds as well. Panic seized upon the brave scouts--a panic born of dread +of what might be in store in days to come. There was a rush to the +canoes; a hasty scrambling aboard; a frenzied launching of the craft, +and an ignominious flight from the place of execution. + +Five minutes later, one walking the highway leading up from Benton might +have beheld a strange figure, striding in to the city, breathing words +of wrath upon the night air; a figure clad in Indian finery, but +bearing the likeness beneath his war-paint of Daniel O'Reilly, a +stalwart labourer of Benton, for the time being a valuable accession to +the Bagley & Blondin great moral and scientific show. + + + + +CHAPTER VII + +A LONG RACE BEGUN + + +The circus remained two days longer in Benton, but there were certain +youths who kept away from it. A solemn oath of secrecy bound them as to +the reason why. Only Tim Reardon and Joe Warren couldn't resist the +temptation of stealing in among the wagons and watching for the +appearance of Danny O'Reilly in all the glory of his paint and feathers; +and, when they beheld a crowd of farmers gaze upon him admiringly as he +passed in for the Wild West performance, they nearly choked to death +with laughter, and couldn't have run if he had espied them. + +"Guess we won't get licked, after all," whispered Little Tim. "Not if we +keep dark, we won't. Danny's going on with the show up the state. He +told Jimmy Nolan, his cousin, and Jimmy told me. 'You'd never guessed he +wasn't an Injun,' says Jimmy to me, 'unless I'd told yer. Don't you ever +let on,' he says--and I like to died--hello, who's that coming?" + +Looking in the direction pointed out by Tim Reardon, Young Joe beheld an +old wagon, drawn by a lean horse, the seat of the wagon nearly bent +down to the axles on one side by the weight of the occupant. + +"Well, if it isn't Colonel Witham!" exclaimed Young Joe. "Didn't suppose +he'd pay to go to a circus." + +It seemed, however, that Colonel Witham had no immediate intention of +entering the main tent, for he proceeded to walk along the line of +smaller pavilions, where the side-shows proclaimed their many and +monstrous attractions. The canvas of one of these presently attracted +the colonel's attention, for he paused in front of it and stood studying +it contemplatively. + +Little Tim and Young Joe, stealing around in the rear of Colonel Witham, +beheld the object of his curiosity. There was a full length portrait on +the canvas, painted in brilliant colours, of a woman standing before an +urn from which vague vapours were arising. She held in one hand a wand, +with which she seemed in the act of conjuring forth a shadowy figure +from within the vapours. A little black satanic imp peered coyly over +her right shoulder. The inscription beneath her portrait read: + + Lorelei, the Sorceress. + Your Future Foretold--All Mysteries Explained--Your + Fate Read by the Stars--Hidden Things Revealed--Lost + Property Recovered. + +Something about the gaudy and pretentious sign seemed to fascinate +Colonel Witham. He walked past it once, reading it out of the corner of +one eye; but he went only a little way beyond, then turned and stopped +and surveyed it once more. He edged up to the canvas, sidled into the +entrance and disappeared. + +"Cracky!" cried Young Joe. "Isn't that rich? The colonel's going to have +his fortune told. Wow! wow! Suppose he's fallen in love?" + +"Not much," said Little Tim. "He wants to know where he's lost a dollar, +probably. Hello, Allan, come over here." + +Little Tim, in high glee, bawled out a greeting to a comrade, Allan +Harding, and conveyed the great news. The three stood awaiting the +colonel's reappearance. + +If they could have seen within the tent, they might have beheld Colonel +Witham, seated at a table upon which a light was thrown, its object +being not so much to illuminate the occupant of the seat as to obscure +his vision. It served to render more shadowy a vague figure that +occupied a little booth across which a gauze curtain hung, and from +which a voice now issued: + +"I see a dusty road, with fields running back from it," droned the +voice, with mysterious monotony, while the person behind the veil +scrutinized keenly the figure and dress of her visitor. "I see a great +house a little way back from the road, with--with what seems to be a +porch in front." + +"Yes, yes," said Colonel Witham, beginning to be impressed, ignoring the +fact that his person indicated his occupation and that the description +would answer almost every farmhouse along the road from Benton. + +"I see a figure sitting on the porch, and it resembles--yes, it is +yourself. You are thinking. There is something that you want to know. +You do not seem to be in love--" + +Colonel Witham snorted--and the hint to the sorceress was sufficient. + +"The stars are very clear on that point," continued the voice. "Your +mind is bent on more serious things. You have a business matter that +troubles you." + +"Wonderful!" ejaculated Colonel Witham, under his breath. "What else do +you see?" he inquired, eagerly. + +"Let me read the stars," continued the voice. "I see what looks like +another man." + +"Yes, yes," said Witham, forgetting in his eagerness that he had come +in, half skeptical, and meant to reveal nothing on his own part. "Is he +hiding anything?" + +"Wait--not so fast," replied the voice. Then, after a pause, "No, he is +not hiding anything." + +Colonel Witham's jaw dropped. + +"But," continued the sorceress, "there is something strange about him. +Wait, until I ask the spirits. They will tell something. Yes, he has +something already hidden. It is secreted. He has hidden something away. +Let me see, are they papers? They look like papers, but it is vague--" + +"And where are they hidden?" cried Colonel Witham, rising from his seat +eagerly. + +"The spirits will not say," answered the voice. "They seem to be angry +at something. Ah, they say they must have more money." + +"But I paid at the door," protested Colonel Witham. + +"Yes, but they are angry," said the voice. "They are angry at me for +taking so little for all I impart. They will have two dollars more, +or--yes, they are already disappearing--quick, or you will be too late." + +Colonel Witham groaned in anguish; slowly produced a shabby wallet, took +therefrom two greasy dollar bills and passed them across the table to an +outstretched hand. + +"Ah, they are coming back," said the voice. "Another moment and it would +have been too late. Now the stars are coming out clearer also. What is +it they tell? Ah, they say--listen--they say the man has concealed +papers that are wanted by you--concealed them _in his place of +business_." + +"Yes, yes, but where?" cried Colonel Witham. "In the safe, or around the +machinery--where-abouts?" + +"Listen," said the voice. "The spirits seem angry again--" + +"Let 'em be angry!" bellowed Colonel Witham. "They'll not get another +cent, confound 'em!" + +"Softly, softly," said the voice soothingly, "The spirits are greatly +agitated by loud words. And the stars are growing dim once more. The +spirits want no more money. They will tell you all; that is, all you +need to know. Listen: They say you will find the papers. But you must be +patient. They are hidden in a building where there are wheels turning +rapidly. And the spirits say the noise hurts their ears. They say, +though, that you must wait a little while, and then you will go into the +building and find them. That is all now. You will certainly get them. +The spirits are gone. They will not come back again to-day." + +The voice became silent; and Colonel Witham sat sheepishly in his chair. +Then he arose and walked slowly to the doorway. Had he been fooled? He +did not know. It was certainly strange: how the voice had described his +hotel--a big house with a porch--and he looking out--and the other +man--the man that had hidden the papers. No, there was something +remarkable about it all. He would surely get them. Colonel Witham +emerged from the tent. + +A chorus of three young voices greeted him: + +"Hello, Colonel Witham, been having your fortune told? Tell us what the +witch said, will you, colonel?" + +The colonel, gazing at the grinning faces of Tim and Joe Warren and +Allan Harding, flushed purple and raised his cane, wrathfully. + +"You little ras--" he began, but bethought himself and halted. "Ho, ho," +he said, looking half ashamed. "That was only a joke. Just took a +notion to see how funny it was. Here boy, give these lads some peanuts." +The colonel produced a dime from his trousers pocket. + +"Say, Tim," said Joe Warren some moments later, "I guess the colonel is +in love, after all. Ten cents' worth of peanuts! My, he's got it bad. +Let's go tell Henry Burns." + +A day or two following, toward the end of a pleasant afternoon, Tim +Reardon and his friend, Allan Harding, sat by the shore of Mill stream +watching a small fleet of canoes engaged in active manoeuvring. It was +at a point on the stream opposite the scene of the execution of the +great Indian chief, where the small cabin stood. Back from this a few +rods was an old barn, of which the boys of Benton rented a small section +for the storage of canoes and paddles. + +There were four canoes now upon the stream, each containing two +occupants. The eight canoeists were stripped for the work, showing a +gorgeous, if somewhat worn, array of sleeveless jerseys. The boys were +bronzed and healthy looking. Back and forth they darted across the +stream from shore to shore; or again, tried short spurts up and down +stream. + +"What are they going to do, Tim?" inquired his companion. + +"Don't you know?" queried Tim, by way of reply. "Say, it's going to be +the dandiest race ever. Start to-morrow morning right after breakfast +from in front of the cabin, and go straight up stream all day long. Only +when Jack blows the horn at noon everybody's got to stop and go ashore +and eat something. Then they start again when Jack blows for 'em to. And +paddle like everything all the afternoon till six o'clock. Then stop +again when Jack blows, and leave every canoe just where it is. + +"Then they get together and pitch tents and camp all night, and race +back next day. And everybody has got to come up to where the first canoe +is before they turn back. Henry Burns, he got it up. I'll bet he and +Jack win the race, too." + +"What'll you bet?" demanded Allan Harding, who had been eying the +canoeists sharply. + +"Thousand dollars," replied Tim, promptly, shoving his grimy hands into +pockets that contained several marbles, a broken-bladed knife and other +valuables. + +"Well," replied Allan Harding, cautiously, "mebbe you're right, but I +guess those fellows in the green canoe stand a good chance. Look how +strong they are. Say, who are they, anyway?" + +"Hm! Jack Harvey's stronger'n any of them," asserted Jim loyally, eying +his stalwart friend, as a canoe passed containing Harvey and Henry +Burns. "Those other chaps are Jim and John Ellison. They live up on the +farm above here. That's what makes 'em strong. But you know Jack. Didn't +he make us stand around, aboard the _Surprise_?" + +"Well, who's going to win, Tim?" called Tom Harris, as he skilfully +turned the canoe paddled by himself and Bob White, to avoid collision +with one which held George and Arthur Warren. + +"'Spose you think you are," answered Tim, "because you and Bob know how +to paddle best. Look out for Jack, though." + +Tom Harris laughed. "You'd bet on Jack if he had a broken arm," he said. + +"Count us last, I guess," said George Warren, good-naturedly. "We're +pretty new at it. Going in for the fun of it. Hello, who's this coming?" + +"Look out, Jim, it's Benny," exclaimed the elder of the Ellison +brothers. + +"I don't care. I won't stand any nonsense from him," replied his +brother, a handsome young fellow, athletic, but slightly smaller than +the other. + +Just what he meant by this remark was best explained when Benjamin +Ellison, strolling lazily down to the shore, paused in the process of +devouring a huge piece of molasses cake and said, in a sneering tone: + +"My, Johnnie, don't you and Jim look fine though, with city chaps? +What'll Uncle Jim say when I tell him--" + +He didn't get much further, for a canoe shot in to shore, and from the +bow of it sprang John Ellison. He seized his cousin by the shoulder. + +"You will tell tales, will you?" he cried. + +"Let me alone," replied the other, striving to shake off John Ellison's +grasp, but failing. Then he added, as the other canoes came in to shore +and the boys stepped out of them. "Can't you take a joke?" + +"No, not when you've done the same kind of a thing before," exclaimed +John Ellison. "Come on, fellows, in with him." + +Ready for any kind of a rough joke, several of the canoeists laid hands +on the unfortunate Benjamin. + +"Most too many against one," remarked Henry Burns, quietly. "Better let +him go." + +"No, he's got to be ducked," insisted John Ellison, whose anger was +aroused. + +"Well, only a little one," assented Harvey, grinning good-naturedly. So +they held the luckless youth heels over head and plunged his head +beneath the surface up to his coat-collar. He was sputtering wrathfully +as they lifted him out again. + +"Going to tell on us?" cried John Ellison. + +Benjamin Ellison glared at his cousin, doubtfully. + +"Once more," said John Ellison; and they put the victim's head under +again. + +He wasn't hurt and his clothes were still dry; but he was whining, and +he begged for mercy after the second ducking. + +"I won't tell," he said. + +"Honest?" + +"Honest Injun!" + +They let him go, and he departed hastily up through the field. + +"Tell, will he?" queried Harvey, as Benjamin departed. + +"Guess not," replied John Ellison. "He's got enough. He'd like to, +though. He don't like you city fellows any better than father does. He +hasn't got anything against you, either. He's too lazy to paddle. Come +on, Jim, let's follow him up. Well be on hand to-morrow, if there's no +trouble." + +The brothers took up their canoe and left the party. + +"They're all right, those Ellison chaps," said Harvey; "all except +Benny. He's no good. Come on, fellows, let's lock up, and no walking in +to town, remember. Running's good for the wind. Coming along, Tim?" + +"No, I'm going to sleep in the cabin," replied Tim Reardon, "and see the +start in the morning." + +"Guess I will, too," said Allan Harding. So the two remained, while the +troop of canoeists set off soon after, on the run back to Benton. + +The following morning, the first of a double holiday, came in bright and +clear. Little Tim and his companion were early astir, and cooking a mess +of oatmeal from the cabin's scanty stores over a cracked sheet iron +stove. + +"There they come," cried Tim presently, as the sounds of fresh, boyish +voices came from outside. "Hooray! I wish 'twas a yacht race, though. +Wouldn't I go along?" + +By nine o'clock the four canoes were fully equipped, drawn up in line +off the cabin, and the canoeists, paddles in hand, arms bared, and +sweaters tied around the thwarts, were ready to start. Jim and John +Ellison were there, a sturdy pair of farm lads; Jack Harvey, apparently +much over-matching his mate in physique, but with something in the +slighter figure of Henry Burns that indicated resource and staying +powers; Tom and Bob, old and hardened canoeists; and George and Arthur +Warren, clean-cut and athletic. + +"Ready for the horn!" called Harvey, holding his paddle in his right +hand and a long, tin horn in the other. + +"All ready!" sang out the canoeists. + +Harvey put the horn to his lips and blew a loud, full blast. The paddles +struck the water with a vigour, and the race was begun. + +The three canoes shot ahead of Harvey's at the start, owing to the +slight delay caused him in dropping the horn. + +"Let them lead, Jack," said Henry Burns, quietly. "It's a two days' +race. Take it easy." + +"That's so," said Harvey, half pausing in a stroke in which he had +started to exert his strength to the utmost. "Lucky I've got you. You +always keep cool. How do you manage to do it?" + +Henry Burns smiled, but made no reply. Instead, he pointed ahead to +where the Ellison brothers, putting their strength into their work, were +showing several rods of clear water between them and the two nearest +canoes, which were going along side by side. + +"They've got the race won in the first five minutes," said Henry Burns. +"See Tom and Bob take it easy till they get limbered up." + +The two thus indicated were, indeed, setting an example worthy to be +followed. They had started off at an easy, regular stroke, one which +they could keep up for hours and increase when they should see fit. They +were paying no attention to the leading canoe, but were exchanging a +word or two with the Warrens, who were striving to imitate their course +and pace. + +The first mile and a half that intervened between the starting point and +the Ellison dam was quickly covered. The Ellison boys, still leading, +were out on shore and carrying their canoe up the bank when the others +were still some rods away. It was a steep pitch of the shore, and Tom +and Bob, when they came to it, took it leisurely, saving their wind. The +others followed, in like fashion. Harvey and Henry Burns were the last +to make the portage. + +Once around the dam, on higher level, the canoes were launched again, +and the race continued. + +A little way up the shore from the dam, Tom and Bob and the Warren boys, +some distance ahead of the rear canoe, saw an odd little figure swinging +and swaying in the top of a birch tree overhanging the water. The +Ellison boys had passed her unnoticed. Her bit of skirt fluttering, and +her hair waving, showed that the occupant of this novel swing was a +girl. + +All at once, to their horror, she seemed to slip and fall. Down she came +from her perch, struck the water with a splash and sank beneath the +surface. + +Tom and Bob, driving their paddles into the water with desperate energy, +darted on ahead of the Warren boys, who bent to the paddles and shot +after them. The two canoes fairly flew through the water, while the four +occupants gazed anxiously ahead over the surface for signs of the girl's +reappearance. + +To their amazement, a laughing voice hailed them most unexpectedly, from +shore. They looked toward the bank, where, just emerging, dripping wet, +the girl was waving a hand to them. + +"How was that for a dive?" she called, pushing her wet hair back from +her eyes, and looking at them roguishly. + +"Bully!" exclaimed George Warren, wiping the drops of perspiration from +his forehead. "We thought you had fallen. My, but it gave me a scare." + +The girl's eyes danced with merriment. Then espying the other canoe +coming up, she called, "Hello, you back again? Look out Ellison don't +catch you." + +"It's Bess Thornton," said Henry Burns, and the two boys called out a +greeting to her. + +"Say, do you know Tim Reardon?" she asked abruptly. + +"Why, yes," answered Henry Burns. "Should say we did." + +"Well," said Bess Thornton, "tell him you saw me dive from the tree, +will you? He didn't think I dared, when I told him." Then she added, +laughing, "Don't get rained on again. But if you do, remember the mill." +And she danced away, wringing the water from the hem of her short +skirt. + +"Confound her!" exclaimed Harvey. "Look at the start Jim and John have +got. Come on, Henry." + +They pushed on again, Tom and Bob soon taking the lead of the three rear +canoes, with a strong steady stroke that meant business. The first canoe +was by this time a quarter of a mile ahead. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + +CONQUERING THE RAPIDS + + +This part of the stream, for some two miles above the Ellison dam, was +deep, still water, lying between quite steep banks, and there was little +perceptible current. So that now, the water being unruffled by any wind, +the four canoes shot ahead at good speed, retaining generally their +relative positions. + +Tom and Bob gradually quickened their stroke, hoping to make some slight +but sure gain on the leaders; but the Ellison brothers were evidently of +a mind to hold their lead as long as possible, and continued to do so. +This, however, was at the cost of some extra exertion, which might tell +in the long run. + +In the course of half an hour, after leaving the dam, the current began +to flow faster against them; now and then it came down over shoals of +quite an incline, so that they made better headway by getting out their +setting-poles and using them, instead of the paddles. + +Then, at a point a mile farther up stream, they came to rapids of some +considerable extent, flowing quite swiftly and boiling here and there +around sunken rocks. The Ellison brothers had avoided this place, and +were to be seen now, on the right bank of the shore, carrying their +canoe with difficulty. + +The shore here was broken up by the out-cropping of ledges, amid the +breaks of which a canoe must be carried with great care, as a false step +would mean a bad fall and perhaps the smashing of the canoe. The only +other alternative, besides the water, was to make a long detour through +the off-lying fields, with loss of time. + +Tom and Bob guided their craft swiftly in to land and proceeded to drag +it ashore, as the Ellison boys had done. The Warren brothers followed, +and Jack Harvey was turning his canoe in the same direction when a word +from his companion caused him to cease paddling. + +"Jack," said Henry Burns, "I think we could make the rapids. What do you +say? If we win out, we may be in time to call the Ellison fellows back." + +It was a rule of the race that, if a canoe succeeded in ascending any +difficult place in the stream, the successful pair was entitled to call +back any of the other canoes that were still carrying around the place, +and make them do likewise. If, however, any of the canoeists had made +the carry completely, and had launched their craft above, they could not +be called back. + +The Ellison brothers were about half way up the carry at this time. + +"I don't think we could do it, Henry," answered Harvey, to the other's +suggestion. "We could get part of the way up, all right, but the last +few rods are too steep." + +He pointed, as he spoke, to the upper incline of the rapids, which was, +indeed, much sharper than the first of the ascent, bending over from the +higher level of the stream abruptly, like a sheet of rounded, polished +ebony; flowing smoothly but with great swiftness; then broken here and +there below with rocks, sharp and jagged, and foaming threateningly as +it whirled past them. + +"I think we can do it, Jack," insisted Henry Burns, quietly. "I remember +the place. The water was a little higher when we came through in the +rain; but we ran these rapids, and don't you remember, half way down +that steepest part, we thought we were going to hit a sunken ledge--just +to the right of the middle of the slope?" + +"Why, yes, seems to me I do," replied Harvey, gazing ahead. "But I +didn't care much what we hit that evening, I was so wet and tired." + +"Well, look now," continued Henry Burns. "You can see the water whirling +at that very spot. The ledge doesn't show above water, but it's there. +What's the matter with working up to that, hanging on it till we get +rested, and then make one quick push up over the top?" + +"Oh, well," said Harvey, "I'm game. You seem to guess things right. +We'll try it, anyway." + +They pushed on into the first of the rapids, while the Ellison brothers, +turning and espying what they were attempting, redoubled their efforts +to make the carry. Tom and Bob cast a glance back, and also continued +along the carry; but George and Arthur Warren, having seen Henry Burns's +schemes work successfully before, turned and came out to the rapids. +There they waited, ready to make the attempt should they see it prove +successful, or to be in a position to put hurriedly for shore should it +prove a failure. + +"Better come on. You're wasting time," called Tom Harris once, as he set +his end of their canoe down on a shelf of ledge. But Henry Burns made no +reply, while Harvey only waved his paddle defiantly. + +For several rods, Harvey and Henry Burns made fair progress, working +quick and sharp, plying their paddles with rapid thrusts. Little clumps +of white froth floated fast by them, indicating the swift running of the +water, and its disturbance. Then the stronger current caught them, and +they barely forged ahead. By the appearance of the water, looking down +upon it as they struggled, they seemed to be flying; but it was the +water, and not they, that was moving rapidly. They hung close by the +little points of projecting ledge for moments at a time, making no +headway. They redoubled their efforts, drove their paddles through the +water with desperate energy, and gained the first mark they had set. + +Slowly the bow of the canoe crept up to a spot where the keen eyes of +Henry Burns had noted the sunken ledge, at a point only a rod from the +upper incline. This ledge did not show above water, but the boiling of +the stream and an almost imperceptible sloping of the surface on either +hand showed that it was there. + +Henry Burns leaned over the side of the canoe and gazed anxiously. +Should the water there prove deeper than he had hoped, they would not +ground, and must be carried back, their strength exhausted. But he had +not been mistaken. + +In a moment the water suddenly shallowed. A hard thrust with the +paddles, and the canoe grated gently. + +"Easy, Jack," cried Henry Burns. "She's hit. Get out the pole." + +Harvey seized the setting-pole from the bottom of the canoe, dropping +his paddle in its place. He thrust it quick and with all his strength +into the swift-running water. At a depth of about three feet it caught +the rocky bottom and held. Harvey braced with the pole and shoved the +bow of the canoe, which had touched on the part of the ledge that was +close to the surface, a little farther ahead. + +"Great!" shouted Henry Burns. "Take it easy now. She'll stay if the pole +don't slip." + +Harvey relaxed his exertions, holding the pole at an angle sufficient to +keep the canoe where it was, with only slight pressure. Henry Burns, +dropping his own paddle and likewise taking up his setting-pole, got a +grip in the rocks and aided his companion. They could rest now, with the +swift water rushing past them on either bow, and recover their wind and +strength for the final struggle. + +Their plan was, when they should have rested, to let the canoe drop back +about a foot, enough to clear the sunken ledge; then, before the current +should catch them, to shove out into it quickly, turn the bow of the +canoe to meet the rush of the rapids, and push over with the poles, by +main strength. They could do it, if, as Henry Burns expressed it, the +canoe "did not get away from them." + +The five minutes they waited seemed like hours. Away up along the carry, +they could see the Ellison brothers, lifting their canoe across the +broken bits of shore; Tom and Bob some way behind these, hurrying as +fast as they dared over the treacherous footing. But now, as they +gathered their strength, and gently shoved their canoe back, a cry from +Tom, who had noted their move, arrested the progress of the Ellison +boys. They paused for a moment and, with Tom and Bob, watched the +outcome, eagerly. + +Alas! it was sharp and bitter for Henry Burns. The canoe hung for a +moment, as they arrested its drifting with strong thrusts of the poles. +Then it shot ahead, as they pushed its nose diagonally out into the +sharp slope of the rapids. Henry Burns thrust his pole down hard, as +they cleared the sunken ledge, to swing the bow straight into the +current. But the bottom proved treacherous. + +It was all over so quickly that neither he nor Harvey knew hardly how it +had happened. He only knew that the pole did not catch, but instead, +struck the slippery face of a smooth bit of the rocky channel, slipped, +gave way, and that he barely recovered his balance to avoid going +overboard. + +The next moment, the canoe had swung around, receiving the full force of +the current broadside. A moment more, they were running with it and +being borne down to where George and Arthur Warren greeted them with +cries--not all sympathetic--of "hard luck." + +They had hardly got their canoe under control and turned it into an +eddy, and had realized the unhappy turn of affairs, when a shout of +derision and triumph came down to them from the Ellisons. They had made +the carry successfully and were launching their canoe in the smooth +water above. + +The Warren boys lost no time in paddling for shore. Tom and Bob, seeing +the discomfiture of their rivals, quickly picked up their canoe and +proceeded along the carry. Harvey looked inquiringly at Henry Burns, who +turned, smiling and unruffled. + +"Well?" said Harvey, "got enough?" + +"No," replied Henry Burns, and added deliberately, with a twinkle in his +eyes, "we might as well do it, now we've started. We've got two days to +get up over there in, you know." + +"Good for you!" exclaimed Harvey. "Come on, if you're ready. We've got +time yet before Tom and Bob make the carry." + +They bent to the paddles and got once more to the sunken ledge, panting +and perspiring, for they had worked hard and the current seemed, +therefore, even swifter now than before. There, holding their canoe in +place, they waited a little longer than on the first attempt, to rest +and study the current. + +"Let's try the right hand from the ledge this time," said Henry Burns. +"Those whirls mean shallow places. Perhaps the bottom isn't so +slippery." + +He pointed at some almost imperceptible breaks in the ebony surface of +the slope, and Harvey agreed. + +"I can shove this canoe up over there as sure as you're alive," said +Harvey, gazing proudly at a pair of muscular arms that were certainly +eloquent of strength; "that is, if you can keep her head straight. Don't +try to do much of the poling. Just try to hold what I gain each time, +till I can get a fresh hold. What do you say--rested enough?" + +"Aye, aye, captain," replied Henry Burns, coolly. "Up we go." + +Again the canoe dropped back a little from the ledge, and again they +caught and held it and shoved out into the current--this time on the +right, instead of the left side. + +Their comrades ashore watched anxiously. They saw the canoe strike the +swift running of the water and hang for a moment, as if irresolute, +uncertain whether it would turn its bow upstream or be swerved +broadside. The moment it hung there seemed minutes in duration. They saw +Henry Burns, lithe and agile, but cool and self-possessed, strike his +pole into the slope of the water where he had seen a shallow spot. And +the pole held. + +The watchers ashore saw the canoe slowly turn and face the swift +current, lying upon its polished slope as though upon a sheet of glass. +They saw Harvey in the stern set his pole and shove mightily, his +muscles knotted and his face drawn and grim with determination. They saw +the canoe slowly gain against the current. + +[Illustration: "THE WATCHERS ASHORE SAW THE CANOE SLOWLY TURN AND FACE +THE SWIFT CURRENT."] + +At the edge of the slope it stood still for what seemed an age. They saw +the two in bow and stern struggle desperately again and again to wrest +their craft from the clutch of the current. Then, almost with a leap, +freed from the fierce resistance of the rapids, the canoe slid over the +brink of the incline, into the deeper part of the stream above. + +A moment later, they saw the poles dropped and the paddles snatched up. +The canoe shot swiftly ahead, propelled by triumphant arms. The rapids +were conquered. Henry Burns and Harvey had won their hard fight. + +In vain had Tom and Bob, hurrying recklessly, bumping their canoe along +the rough shore, essayed to complete the carry before it would be too +late. To their chagrin and dismay, the sound of a horn blown three times +with a vigour announced to them the triumph of their comrades. Sadly +they shouldered their canoe, which they had set down at the first blast +of the horn, and turned their faces back along the trail, toward the +foot of the rapids. + +Likewise, the Warren boys, accepting the inevitable, turned back and +prepared to attempt the difficult feat which they had seen accomplished. +At all events, they were, by reason of their position in the rear of Tom +and Bob, in possession of that much advantage over the more skilled +canoeists. + +"Whew! but that was a tough one," exclaimed Harvey, dipping his paddle +leisurely, and recovering his breath. "Say, look at poor old Tom and +Bob--the champion canoeists. Bet they feel sore." + +Henry Burns turned, looked back and smiled. Then, gazing up stream +again, he said, "Yes, but look there." + +At a bend of the stream, fully a half mile ahead, the first canoe was +gliding easily along. + +Harvey groaned. "And they'd be back there, too," he exclaimed, "if we +hadn't made that slip. Never mind, there's another day coming." + +It seemed a long, long time, and they, themselves, had reached a point +fully a half mile above the rapids, before they espied first one canoe +and then another achieving the incline. They could not discern which was +in the lead, but it proved later to be the canoe handled by Tom and Bob, +the Warrens having made two failures before succeeding, giving time to +the others to come up and pass them. They were about abreast now, coming +along slowly. + +It was smooth paddling now, along the shores of green meadows and +pasture land, until noon arrived. Then, at the signal of four blasts of +the horn, by Harvey, answered in turn by all the others above and below, +the canoes were drawn out on shore and luncheon was eaten. They built no +fires, but ate what they had brought, cold. With an hour to rest in, +the leaders strolled back to where Harvey and Henry Burns were, and +chaffed them good-naturedly on their failure to make them take the +rapids, and over their own strong lead. To which, Harvey and Henry +Burns, being good sportsmen, replied good-humouredly, assuring the +Ellisons they should beat them on "the next hard place." + +The other canoeists remained where they were, and ate their luncheons +together. + + + + +CHAPTER IX + +AN EXCITING FINISH + + +When, at about two o'clock that afternoon, the sound of the horn, blown +four times by Jack Harvey, announced that the race was resumed, there +was a do-or-die expression on the faces of Tom Harris and Bob White. +Harvey and Henry Burns were a good half mile ahead of them; the Ellisons +fully a mile. + +Not that this was disheartening to athletic lads in good training, who +had learned in many a contest of skill and strength to accept a result +fairly won, even though they were beaten. On the contrary, here was a +contest worth the winning, now that the odds were against them. Their +first pique, over the clever move of Henry Burns that had set them back +in the race, having subsided, they were ready to give him credit for +carrying it out. + +But they were still bound to win. So that soon, settling down to a +strong, vigorous stroke, which had often carried them over miles of +rough water in Samoset Bay, they gradually drew ahead of George and +Arthur Warren. They seemed tireless. Their muscles, trained and +hardened, worked like well oiled machinery. In vain the Warren brothers +strove to keep up the pace. They were forced finally to fall back. That +quick, powerful thrust of the paddles, as Tom and Bob struck the water +with perfect precision, sent the light canoe spurting ahead in a way +that could not be equalled by less trained rivals. + +Henry Burns and Jack Harvey, toiling manfully, seemed to feel that they, +too, were being out-paddled; for ever and again one of them would glance +back over his shoulder; after which he would strike the water with a +sharper thrust, and the canoe would respond to the fresh endeavour. + +"They'll gain some," said Henry Burns once, calmly. "We can't help that. +They've had too many years of it, not to be able to set a stronger pace. +But they can't catch us in one afternoon. If they do, we're beaten. +We'll hold some of our advantage, eh, Jack?" + +"You bet we will!" exclaimed Harvey, jabbing the water savagely. "I'm +going to make a gain, myself, if only for a spurt." + +So saying, he called to his companion to "give it to 'em lively," and +they set a pace for the next fifteen minutes that did, indeed, exceed +the speed at which Tom and Bob were travelling. But spurts such as that +would not win a two days' race. Gradually they fell back into their +normal swing, and Tom and Bob crept up on them once more. + +The Ellisons, too, were feeling the strain of the long test of skill and +endurance. Now, as the afternoon hours went by, their stroke fell off +slower and slower. Heavier built somewhat than Tom and Bob, their +muscles, hardened and more sluggish with harder work, did not respond to +the call. Harvey and Henry Burns were gaining on them; and Tom and Bob +were gaining on both. + +On went the four canoes; up rapids or around them, as proved necessary +according to the depth of the water. Harvey and Henry Burns, seeing they +were gaining on the leaders, would take no more chances on questionable +rapids, but carried around those that the Ellisons did. Tom and Bob and +the Warrens also took the readiest way around each difficulty. + +Had the race a few more hours to run for that afternoon, it is certain +Tom and Bob must have overtaken and passed their rivals. But now the +time for the end of the first day's contest was at hand, and presently +Harvey, after a glance at his watch, lifted the horn to his lips. Four +blasts sounded far up and down the still waters, and four answering +blasts came from each canoe. The first day's race was done. The canoes +headed for shore. It was six o'clock, and the Ellisons were still in the +lead. + +But the margin was not now so great. Between them and the nearest canoe +there was not over a quarter of a mile of winding stream. Harvey and +Henry Burns had done well. But Tom and Bob had accomplished even more. +Scarcely more than an eighth of a mile intervened between their craft +and the canoe of Harvey and Henry Burns. The Warrens had paddled +gamely, also, but were fully three quarters of a mile behind the +leaders. + +Leaving their canoes drawn up on shore, at precisely the spot where each +had been at the sound of the horn, the boys met together now and shook +hands all around. It was clean, honest sport, and no mean jealousy. + +"But look out for to-morrow," said Tom Harris, good-naturedly shaking a +fist at Jim Ellison. + +They brought forth now from each canoe a light frame-work of three +bamboo poles, standards and cross-piece, and a thin, unbleached cotton +"A" tent, and quickly pitched the four tents on a level piece of ground, +in a semi-circle. The tents were flimsy affairs, light to carry, and +would not do in rainy weather; but they had picked their day, and it was +clear and no danger of a wetting. + +Then, for there had been a careful division of weight, each canoe +furnished some necessary article for getting the supper: a pail for +boiling coffee from one, fry-pan from another, and so on; with bacon for +frying, and bread and potatoes. They soon had a fire going in the open +space in front of the four tents, with a log rolled close to it, and the +coffee-pail hung on a crotched stick, set aslant the log and braced in +the ground. The bacon sizzled later in the pan, set on some glowing +coals. The potatoes were buried in the hot ashes, under the blaze, just +out of reach of burning. + +The canoeists stretched themselves on the ground around the fire, +hungry and healthfully wearied. Twilight was upon them when all was +ready, and they had removed the feast away from the warmth of the fire, +piling on more wood and making it blaze up brightly for its cheer. + +Then they fell to with amazing appetites; and the amount of crisp bacon +and hot potatoes and bread they made way with would have appalled the +proprietor of the Half Way House, or any other hotel keeper, if he had +had to supply it. Then, when they had startled the cattle in near-by +pastures with a few songs, heartily if not so musically bawled, they +were ready to turn in for the night, almost with the glowing of the +first stars. It was surprising how soon they were off to sleep, each +rolled in his single blanket, slumbering soundly on the bare turf. + +"Well?" remarked Henry Burns inquiringly, next morning, sitting up and +looking at his companion, who had scarcely got his eyes open. Harvey +gave a yawn, stretched and roused up. "I feel fine," he answered. "Lame +any?" "Not a bit," replied Henry Burns. + +Stepping outside the tent, he found, to his surprise, Tom and Bob +already up and their tent and blankets snugly packed and stowed. + +"Have a plunge?" asked Bob. + +"Yes," said Henry Burns. "Come on, Jack?" + +The four went down to the shore, leaving the others still finishing +their morning naps. One quick plunge and they were out again, ready for +breakfast. It was plain they were ready for the day's race. So said Jim +and John Ellison, when they were out, some minutes later. But Henry +Burns gave a sly wink at Harvey, as his sharp eye observed the motions +of the brothers when they came to strike their tent. Nor did he fail to +note the quickness with which Jim Ellison dropped his right arm, when he +had raised it once over his head. + +"Just a bit lame," said Henry Burns, softly. "We'll give it to 'em hard +at the start, before they get limbered up." + +Breakfast eaten, and the camp equipments stowed, they all proceeded now +to the spot where the Ellisons' canoe was drawn ashore. There they set +up a pole cut for the purpose. It marked the turning point of the race. +At the signal, the Ellisons could start down stream from there; and each +canoe must go up stream to that point before it could begin its home +run. + +It was a race now, as Henry Burns expressed it, for glory and for +dinner. They had eaten their stock of food and would stop for nothing +more till they reached camp. They had covered some fifteen miles of +water, up stream against rapids and the current, in the preceding day's +paddling; but they could make it down stream in about half the time. + +They were soon afloat now, for Harvey was impatient to be off, and he +was by consent the one to give the signal. The Ellison brothers would +gladly have delayed, but Harvey, at a word from Henry Burns, was firm. + +They took their places, struck the water together at the sound of the +horn, and the second day's race was begun. + +Confident as were the occupants of the second and third canoes, it was a +bit disconcerting, at the outset, to see the leaders go swiftly past +them on the way down stream, while they had still to go on against the +current up to the turning point. Moreover, the leading canoe quickly +caught a patch of swift running water, which the Ellisons had carried +around the day before, but could run now, by merely guiding their canoe. +So, at the start, they made an encouraging gain, and turned once, at the +foot of some rapids, to wave back defiance at their opponents. + +Skill and training were bound to tell, however. In the miles that were +reeled off rapidly now, the second and third canoes gained on the +leaders in the calm, still, sluggish places. There was more spring and +snap to their muscles. Their canoes moved faster through the water. + +Eight miles down stream, they were overhauling the foremost canoe +rapidly, the canoes of Tom and Bob and Henry Burns and Harvey being +nearly abreast, and the four straining every nerve and muscle. The +Warrens had fallen at least a half mile behind them. + +Luck had been with the Ellisons, surely; for running rapids in shallow +water is most uncertain work. Tom and Bob, old canoeists, knew well the +appearance of water that denotes a sunken rock, and by sheer skill and +watchfulness turned their canoe aside ever and again with a quick sweep +of the paddles, to avoid a treacherous place, where the water whirled +ominously. Henry Burns and Harvey had lately come down the stream, and +knew by that experience how easy it was to get hung up when it was least +expected. + +Yet, with all experience, now and again a canoe would grate and perhaps +hang for a moment in some rapid; and once, when the canoe of Tom and Bob +would have shot ahead of Harvey's, they went hard aground, and lost +precious minutes. + +When they were within a mile of the rapids where Henry Burns had won +honours on the preceding day, however, Tom and Bob had shown the proof +of their superior training and skill; they were leading Harvey and Henry +Burns and were close upon the leaders. + +"Cheer up, Jack," said Henry Burns, coolly, to his comrade; "they ought +to win, but we've given them a good race, anyway. Something may happen +yet." + +And something did happen--but not to the canoe steered by Tom Harris. + +The three foremost canoes were now upon the brink of the worst rapids, +and each youth was bracing himself for the run. They saw the Ellisons +shoot quickly over the brink, go swiftly down the smooth incline into +the rougher water. All at once, the canoe seemed to be checked abruptly +and hang for a moment. Then it slid on again. But the damage had been +done. A sharp point of ledge had penetrated the canvas, and the canoe +was leaking. + +Down went the two next canoes, one after the other; deftly handled; +sheering a little this way and that, as the watchful eyes detected the +signs of danger; riding gallantly through the frothing, fretting rapids +into clear water beyond. Their pace was not abated much as they got into +their swing again, and, one by one, they passed the Ellisons. The +latter's canoe, encumbered by water that leaked slightly but steadily +through the rent in the canvas, dragged somewhat and had to be bailed +before they had gone a half mile further. + +That afternoon, a boy, barefoot and hatless, stood by the shore at a +point a little way above the Ellison dam, anxiously watching up stream +as far as he could see. That he was intensely excited was evident by the +way he fidgeted about; and once he climbed a birch tree that overhung +the water and gazed away from that perch. + +"Hello, Tim," said a voice close by him, suddenly. "What are you looking +for?" + +"Oh, hello, Bess," responded Tim Reardon, turning about in surprise. +"How you startled me! I'm watching for the canoes--don't you know about +it? Cracky, but don't I hope Jack'll win." + +"Why don't you go out on the logs?" queried the girl. "You can see up +stream farther from there. Come on." + +Without waiting for a reply, Bess Thornton darted out across a +treacherous pathway of light cedar and spruce logs that lay, confined +by a log-boom, waiting to be sawed into shingle stuff; for the old mill +occasionally did that work, also, as well as grinding corn. Many of the +logs were not of sufficient size to support even the girl's light +weight, but sank beneath her, wetting her bare feet. She sprang lightly +from one to another, pausing now and then to rest and balance herself on +some larger log that sustained her. Little Tim, equally at home about +the water, followed. + +The boom confining this lot of logs was made of larger and longer logs, +chained together at the ends, and extending in a long irregular line +from a point up the shore down toward the dam, to a point just above the +landing place for the canoes. Tim Reardon and Bess Thornton ran along +this boom as far as it extended up stream. + +Presently Little Tim gave a yell and nearly pitched head-first into the +stream. + +"They're coming! they're coming!" he cried. "Who's ahead? Can you see?" + +The next moment he gave an exclamation of dismay. Two canoes shot around +a bend of the stream, one not far behind the other--but the second +canoe, to Little Tim's disappointment, that guided by Jack Harvey. Tom +and Bob had a fair lead, and, by the way they were putting life into +their strokes, seemed likely to maintain it. + +"Ow wow," bawled Little Tim. "Come on, Jack! Come on, Henry! You can +beat 'em yet. Give it to 'em!" + +Bess Thornton, catching the enthusiasm and spirit of her companion, and +espying who the occupants of the second canoe were, added her cries of +encouragement to those of Little Tim. + +But the leaders came on steadily and surely, heading in slightly toward +the point on shore where they would disembark to make the carry about +the dam. + +Away up the stream, two more canoes could be seen, about abreast, the +four boys plying their paddles with all the strength in them. + +So the leading canoe passed the boy and girl, Little Tim yelling himself +hoarse, with encouragement to Harvey and Henry Burns to come on. Surely +if there had been any impelling power in noise, Tim's cries would have +turned the scale in favour of his friends. + +The leading canoe touched shore, and Tom and Bob sprang lightly out; +snatched up their craft and were off up the bank, to make the carry. +Henry Burns and Harvey headed in to do likewise. But now Bess Thornton, +catching Tim suddenly by an arm, started back down the boom, saying to +him, "Come on quick." He, surprised, wondering what she meant, followed. + +The girl ran swiftly along the line of logs to a point a little way +above the dam. There the line of the boom swung inshore in a sweep to +the left. To the right of them, as they stood, was the deep, black +water, flowing powerfully in the middle of the stream, and with a strong +current, toward an opening in the dam. This was the long flume, a steep, +long incline, down which the water of the stream raced with great +velocity. It was built to carry rafts of logs through from time to +time--a chute, planked in on either side, with the entrance formed by +the cutting down of the top of the dam there a few feet. There was no +great depth of water in the flume--no one seemed to know just how much. +It depended on the height of water in the stream. + +Now the girl, waving to Harvey and Henry Burns, cried shrilly for them +to watch. Surprised, they ceased their paddling for a moment and looked +over to where she stood. + +To their amazement and Little Tim's horror, the girl, barefoot and +bare-armed, and clad in a light calico frock, gave a laugh and dived +into the stream. A moment more, she reappeared a few feet from the boom, +and was unmistakably heading for the swift water beyond running down to +the flume. + +"Come back!" cried Little Tim. "You'll get drowned there. You're going +into the flume." + +The girl turned on her side as she swam, calling out: + +"Tell 'em to come on. They'll beat the others. I've been through once +before." + +Again she turned, while Little Tim stood with knees shaking. Henry Burns +and Harvey, seeing the girl's apparent peril, uttered each an +exclamation of alarm, and headed out once more into the stream. + +But they were helpless. A moment more, and they saw the girl caught by +the swift rush of the water. Waving an arm just as she went over the +edge of the incline, she straightened out and lay at full length, so as +to keep as nearly as she could at the surface. She disappeared, and they +waited what seemed an age, but was scarcely more than two minutes. Then, +all at once, there came up to their ears, from far below, the clear, +yodelling cry of Bess Thornton. She had gone safely through. + +It was a serious moment for Tim Reardon. There wasn't a better swimmer +of his size in all Benton. Only a few of the larger lads dared to dive +with him from the very top of Pulpit Rock, a high point on the bank of +the stream, some miles below. Now he was stumped by a girl no bigger +than himself, and he felt his knees wabbling in uncertain fashion at the +thought of attempting the flume. And there was his big friend, Harvey, +and Henry Burns, waiting out on the water, uncertain as to what they +should do. He might aid them to win the race. Or he might hang back, be +beaten, himself, by a girl, and Harvey and Henry Burns would lose. + +Little Tim gazed for one moment out into midstream, to where the water, +black and gleaming, rushed smoothly and swiftly into the opening of the +sluice-way. Then he got his voice under control as best he could, waved +toward the canoe and shouted: + +"Come on, Jack. I'll show yer. It's e-e-asy." + +Little Tim shut his eyes, swallowed a lump in his throat, dived from the +boom and made a long swim under water. When he reappeared, he was near +the swift current, a little way below where the canoe lay. + +"Come on, fellers," he cried again--and the next moment Henry Burns and +Harvey saw him disappear over the edge of the dam. It seemed as though +there had been hardly time for him to be borne down to the foot of the +descent before they heard his voice, calling triumphantly back to them. + +Henry Burns turned and gave one quick, inquiring glance at his +companion. In return, Harvey gave a whistle that denoted his surprise at +the odd turn of affairs, and said shortly, "Got to do it now. We can go +through if they can. Hang that girl! Get a good brace now. Gimminy, look +at that water run!" + +They were on the very brink, as he spoke; and, even as he muttered the +last exclamation, the canoe dipped to the incline of the chute and went +darting down its smooth surface. They hardly saw the sides of the flume +as they shot by. Almost instantly, it seemed, they were in the tumbling, +boiling waters at the foot of it, Henry Burns crouching low in the bow, +so as not to be pitched overboard; Harvey bracing for one moment with +his paddle and striking the water furiously the next, to keep it on its +course. + +The canoe shipped water, and they feared it would be swamped; but they +kept on. Then, as they swept past a jutting of ledge that bordered the +lower shore, two figures standing together waved to them and cried out +joyously: + +"Paddle hard! Go it, Jack! Give it to her, Henry! You're way ahead. +They're not half 'round the bank yet. Hooray!" + +Spurred by the cries, the two canoeists plied their paddles with renewed +zeal. So on they emerged into smooth water. Away up the bank, Tom and +Bob, dismayed, saw their rivals take the lead in the long race--a lead +that could not be overcome. + +Sitting up proudly, Henry Burns and Harvey raced past the familiar +shores, saw the old camp come into view, shot across the finishing line, +and the race was won. Standing on the bank, they watched the others come +trailing in: Tom and Bob not far behind; the Warren boys third, and the +Ellisons last. + +"Yes," said Tom Harris, good-naturedly, as they sat outside the camp a +little later, "but you had to get a girl to show you how to beat us." + +"How'd you know you could go through there, anyway?" he added, turning +to the girl who, with Little Tim had come down the shore to see the +finish. + +"Did it to get away from gran' once," replied Bess Thornton, her eyes +twinkling. "My, but wasn't she scared. It's easy, though, isn't it, +Tim?" + +"Easy! It's nothin'," said Little Tim. + + + + +CHAPTER X + +HENRY BURNS MAKES A GIFT + + +It was evening, and the streets of Benton's shopping section were +lighted; the illumination of windows serving to display the attractions +arranged therein to best advantage. The night was warm and pleasant, and +the passers-by moved leisurely, enjoying the sights, or pausing now and +then to gaze in, as some object caught their eye. + +Three boys, sauntering along one of the principal thoroughfares, stopped +abruptly as one of their number called them to a halt and pointed on +ahead. The object to which he pointed was a fourth youth, who was +standing, with hands in his pockets, intently absorbed in the display in +one of the shop windows. + +"Sh-h-h!" whispered young Joe Warren to his companions, his brother +George and Bob White, "look at Henry Burns. My, but that's rich. We've +got one on him, all right. Hold on, let's come up on him easy." + +The boys drew a little nearer to Henry Burns, grinning broadly. Henry +Burns, all unmindful of such concerted observation, continued to gaze in +at the brilliantly lighted window. + +The contents of the window-case were, indeed, such as one would hardly +have supposed to be of interest to a youth of his age. The shop was one +of Benton's largest dry-goods establishments, and the particular window +was devoted wholly to an assortment of women's and misses' dresses. +Several more or less life-like figures, arrayed in garments of the +season, occupied prominent positions in the display. + +Directly in line with Henry Burns's vision was one of these: the figure +of a girl, dressed in a neat summer sailor suit, the yellow curls of the +head surmounted with a dashing sailor hat; its waxen cheeks tinted a +most decided pink; its blue, staring eyes apparently returning the gaze +of Henry Burns, unabashed at his admiration. + +There was no mistaking Henry Burns's desire to form a closer +acquaintance with the wax figure, for presently he approached closer to +the window and stood studying it with undisguised interest. + +"Seems to like the looks of her, don't he?" chuckled Young Joe, nudging +Bob White and doubling up with laughter. "Wish Jack Harvey was here now +to see him. Come on, let's wake him up." + +Approaching softly, the three neared the unsuspecting admirer of the +yellow-haired, waxen miss. + +Still lost in contemplation of her, Henry Burns was suddenly greeted by +a series of yells and hoots of derision that would have done credit to a +wild west performance. Then roars of laughter followed, as he turned and +faced them. + +It was not in the nature of Henry Burns to be startled or easily +disconcerted, however, and, although taken by surprise, he turned slowly +and faced the three. + +"Hello," he said coolly. + +"Hello, Henry," snickered Young Joe. "Say, what's her name?" + +"Yes, who is she?" echoed the other two; whereupon all three went off +again into mingled roars of laughter and yells of delight. + +"Dunno," responded Henry Burns. "I'll go in and ask, though, if you +want." + +"Isn't she sweet?" said Bob White. "How long have you known her?" + +"Oh, not so long as you've known Kitty Clark," replied Henry Burns. + +"Ow! wow!" squealed Young Joe; an exclamation which began in great +satisfaction and terminated in a howl, as he felt the force of a punch +from Bob's vigorous right arm. + +It wasn't so easy getting the best of Henry Burns, in spite of his +disadvantage. + +"Seen Jack?" he inquired. + +"No--yes, there he comes now," answered George Warren, pointing back in +the direction whence they had come. + +Henry Burns left them abruptly, and they went along, calling back at him +mockingly. But he paid little heed. Anyone familiar with the youth would +have known that he had something particular in mind; and in such case, +Henry Burns was not to be turned aside by bantering. + +Some five minutes later, Henry Burns and Harvey stood looking in at the +very same shop window, whither Henry Burns had conducted his companion. + +"Say--er--Jack, what do you think of that?" inquired Henry Burns, +pointing in at the wax figure. + +Harvey looked at his companion and grinned. + +"Think of what!" he exclaimed. "The curls?" + +"No, hang the curls!" said Henry Burns. "The dress." + +Harvey stared at him, open-mouthed. + +"Oh, yes," he said at length, as though endeavouring to grasp the +meaning of so extraordinary an inquiry; "looks like Bob White's sister. +What of it?" + +"Oh, nothing," replied Henry Burns, "only you and I are going to buy +it." + +Harvey's grin expanded. + +"Sure," he responded. "You'd look nice in it, Henry. Only you need the +curls, too--" + +"And give it to Bess Thornton," continued Henry Burns, unmindful of his +comrade's remark. + +Harvey whistled. + +"Well, I'll be skinned if I don't think you're in earnest!" he +exclaimed. + +"I am," said Henry Burns. "It's eight dollars and eighty-seven +cents--marked down--they always are, ain't they? Half of that's four +dollars and something or other apiece. Come in with me?" + +"Not much!" cried Harvey, turning red at the very thought of it. "I'll +pay half, though, if you'll get somebody to buy it. It's worth more than +that to me, to win that race. Well, if you don't beat all thinking up +queer things. What put it into your head?" + +"Why, she spoiled hers, showing us how to come through that sluice, +didn't she?" said Henry Burns. + +"Guess not," replied Harvey. "Spoiled long before that, I reckon. +They're poor enough. Get somebody to buy the dress, and I'll pay for +half, all right." + +"I'm going to buy it now," said Henry Burns, coolly; "that is, if you've +got any money. I've got five dollars." + +Harvey produced his pocket-book and the necessary bills. + +"Gee!" he exclaimed. "I wouldn't do it for a hundred dollars. Go on; +I'll watch you through the window." + +In no wise daunted, Henry Burns, whose critical study of the model and +the garment through the window had satisfied him that the figure was of +Bess Thornton's size, boldly entered the store, calmly made the +purchase, ignored the inquiry of the clerk if he was thinking of getting +married, and returned with it to his companion. + +"Say," exclaimed Harvey, "I don't wonder you learned to sail the +_Viking_ quick as you did. You've got the nerve." + +"Now we've got to take it up there," said Henry Burns. + +Harvey stopped short. + +"Take that dress and give it to a girl?" he asked. + +"No, we won't give it to her," replied his comrade. "She might not like +to have us--and I wouldn't know what to say, would you?" + +"Would I!" exclaimed Harvey. + +"We'll just leave it and cut and run," explained Henry Burns. "Then she +won't know who sent it, and she'll have to keep it. See?" + +"It's most nine o'clock," remarked Harvey. + +"I'm going," said Henry Burns. + +"Oh, well, I'll stand by," said Harvey. "Let's be off, then. It's a good +two miles and a half, nearer three." + +Shortly after, one might have seen the two comrades trudging along the +road leading out of Benton, in the direction of Ellison's mill. + +They walked briskly, and in a little less than three quarters of an hour +a light from a window on a hill-top warned them that they were +approaching the farmhouse of Farmer Ellison. They turned in from the +road that ran along the bank of the stream, and made their way through +his field on the hillside, in the direction of the brook. + +"Does Ellison keep any dog?" asked Harvey, once. + +"I don't know, any more than you do," replied his companion. "Never saw +any. We'll keep well down near the brook, though, so they can't see us +from the house." + +They passed through some clumps of small cedars and thin birches, +stumbling now and then over cradle-knolls and pitching into little +depressions. It was a clear night and starlit, but the shadows in the +half darkness were confusing. A lamp gleamed in the kitchen window, +above them, and they could see someone moving past the window from time +to time. + +"Ellison hasn't gone to bed," remarked Harvey. + +"Well, what of it?" replied Henry Burns. "Not scared of him, are you?" + +"No," answered Harvey. "But he's touchy about this brook. Ever since he +caught Willie Dodd setting a net there one night he's been crazy for +fear he'd lose some of these trout." + +"I know what's the matter with you," said Henry Burns. "It's this dress. +You wouldn't have anyone catch us with it for a million dollars." + +"You bet I wouldn't," answered Harvey. + +Harvey's nerves, usually the steadiest, were not proof against even a +slight alarm; for when, a few moments later, his companion touched him +lightly on an arm and motioned for him to be still, he waited, keyed up +to a high point of excitement and ready for a dash across the fields. + +"What is it?" he whispered. + +"Sh-h!" replied Henry Burns, clutching his bundle tight under one arm, +and peering through the scattered alders, into which they had +penetrated. "I heard a step." + +They waited, anxiously. + +It was Harvey's turn, however, to enjoy a laugh at the expense of his +comrade, as the steps that the quick ear of Henry Burns had heard were +continued, this time with an unmistakable crackling of undergrowth. + +"There's your prowler, Henry," he said, laughing softly and slapping his +friend between the shoulders. "She's got two horns, but I guess she +won't hook, unless she sees through that box and gets a sight of that +dress." + +A look of relief overspread Henry Burns's face, as a Jersey cow stalked +slowly through the brush and stood gazing inquiringly at the two boys. +But, observing her for a moment, it did not escape Henry Burns that the +animal suddenly gave a spring and turned and faced the other way, as +though some noise behind had surprised her. + +Henry Burns clutched his comrade and pointed back past the cow. Harvey's +eyes followed where he pointed. + +The figure of a man was plainly to be seen, stealing along in the +shadows of the clumps of bushes. + +They paused not another instant, but dashed forward, heedless now of the +noise they made, thrusting branches aside and leaping from one knoll to +another where the soil was boggy. At the same moment Farmer Ellison, +brandishing a club, emerged into plain view and darted after them, +crying out as he ran. + +"Stop there!" he shouted. "I'll shoot yer if yer don't stop. I'll have +no nets set in this stream. Just let me lay this club on your backs." + +They only fled the faster. + +"He won't shoot," gasped Henry Burns. "Make for the foot of the dam. +We'll cross the brook." + +As for Harvey, threats of a fire of infantry wouldn't have stopped him. +He followed his slighter companion, who led the way, despite the +incumbrance of the box he carried. + +Through pasture and swamp the chase continued. The boys were fleeter of +foot, but Farmer Ellison knew the ground. And once he skirted a boggy +piece of land and nearly headed them off. They turned toward the brook, +gained its shore and sped along to the foot of the dam. There the water, +diminished by the obstruction, flowed from a little basin out on to +shallower bottom, from which here and there a rock protruded. + +Springing from one to another of these, slipping and splashing to their +knees, aided here and there by a bit of half decayed log or drift-wood, +they got across and scrambled up the opposite bank just as Farmer +Ellison, out of breath, appeared on the nearer shore. + +"You poachers!" he cried, "Ye've got away this time. But look out for +the next. Remember, it's a shotgun full of rock salt and sore legs for +yer if yer come again." + +He seated himself by the foot of the dam, nursing a bruised shin, and +watched them disappear through the fields. + +"Scared 'em some, anyway, I reckon," he remarked. And was most assuredly +correct in that. The two boys had not stopped in their flight, and were +a mile above the crossing before Farmer Ellison turned himself homeward. + +Safe from pursuit at last, Henry Burns threw himself down at the foot of +a tree and laughed till he nearly choked for want of breath. + +"How we did scoot," he said. "Did you see old Ellison slip once and go +into the bog?" + +"I didn't see anything," replied Harvey, "but a pair of legs in front of +me, cutting it through the mud and brush. How's the dress?" + +"Oh, it's all right," said Henry Burns. "Come out if you've got your +wind. We'll leave it and get home." + +They were at a point above Grannie Thornton's cottage, and they +proceeded now cautiously, making a circuit to bring them to the brook +some way above the house, pausing now and then to look and to listen. +But no one disturbed them. Farmer Ellison had had enough of the chase +and had gone home to nurse his shin. + +They came down to the old house. It was dark, and all was still. Harvey +waited on watch near the gate, while Henry Burns stole up to the door +and laid the box down carefully against the front door. Then they sped +away. + +"Go back the way we came?" inquired Henry Burns, slyly. + +"Not much," said Harvey. "Straight out to the main road. No more swamps +for me." + +They went out that way, then; took the main road, passed down by the old +inn and the mill, and swung into a rapid stride for home. It was half +past eleven o'clock when they turned into their beds. + +Two days following this adventure, toward the latter part of the +afternoon, Henry Burns was walking up the same road by the stream, in +the direction of the camp, where he was to meet Tom Harris for a spin in +the canoe. He had heard no footsteps near, and was therefore not a +little surprised when a hand touched his arm and a laugh that was +familiar sounded close by his side. + +He turned quickly, and there was Bess Thornton. + +"Hullo," she said, "I hoped I'd see somebody on the road. I'll walk +along with you." + +Henry Burns said "all right" in a tone that was not over-cordial; for, +though not easily abashed, he was, to tell the truth, just a bit shy +with girls, and wondered what Tom Harris would say if he saw him coming +up the road with Bess. + +Perhaps the girl's quick intuitiveness perceived this, for a mischievous +light danced in her black eyes as she said, "I thought perhaps you'd +like to have company. You would, wouldn't you?" + +"Yes--oh, yes," responded Henry Burns. "Going home from school?" + +"Yes," she answered. "But I didn't want to go this morning, a bit. Gran' +made me, though." + +"What's the matter?" asked Henry Burns. + +"Well," said the girl, "I had to wear this new dress, you see. And when +you wear a new dress they always say things, don't you know? Danny Davis +hollered 'stuck up' once, but I punched him." + +"Good for you," said Henry Burns, laughing. "I'd like to have seen +you--that a new dress?" + +"Course it is," she answered, with a touch of half-offended pride. +"Can't you see it is?" + +Henry Burns made a quick survey of the trim little figure, clad in the +dress that had cost him and Harvey the hard scramble of the recent +night. It was surprising what a difference the pretty suit made in the +appearance of the girl. He made a mental note of the fact that it seemed +just the right size for her, and that she certainly looked very nice in +it. Its dark red set off the black of her glossy hair, and she wore a +neat straw hat that went well with the dress. At least, it looked all +right to Henry Burns. + +"You don't look stuck up," he ventured. "You look first rate." + +He felt the colour come into his cheeks as he said it. It was the first +time in his life that he had ever complimented a girl. They were passing +a dingy little store, with its windows filled with farming tools, odds +and ends of household stuff and some fishing tackle, and he thought it a +good chance to get away. + +"Got an errand in here," he said. "Good-bye." + +Some ten minutes later he emerged, looked sharply up the road and +pursued his journey. He had gone scarcely a rod or two, however, when +the girl's voice brought him to a halt, much taken aback. She was seated +by the stream, close to the water. + +"I thought you'd be along," she said. "I've been watching the pickerel. +There's one sunning himself close to the top of water now, just by the +lily pads. See me hit him." + +She picked up a stone as she spoke, and threw it with surprising ease +and accuracy. It struck the water about six inches from the dark object +to which she had pointed. Henry Burns's chagrin at this second meeting +was lost in admiration. + +"Good shot!" he exclaimed. "How'd you know 'twas a pickerel?" + +"Oh I catch 'em," she answered. "And once in a while I show one to Benny +Ellison so he can shoot it. I don't like him much, though. He's mean +and--fat." + +Henry Burns chuckled. + +"He can't help that," he said. + +"No, but he's always stuffing himself with candy and things," said the +girl. "And he won't ever give you any. I like people that give away +things once in a while, don't you?" + +Henry Burns came the nearest to blushing that he ever had, as he +answered that he guessed he did. There was something in the girl's voice +and manner and in her beaming countenance, telling of her happiness in +the possession of her new finery--though she had feared the ordeal of +wearing it to school, perhaps because of the contrast it made to her +usual garment--that he felt a queer feeling in his throat. But relief +was at hand for him in his embarrassment, for the path that led down to +the camp was in sight, and he bade her good-bye. + +He struck off along the path, through the bushes and thin growth of +woods; but had gone only a little way when the sound of voices, one +sharp and angry, made him pause. He retraced his steps, hurrying as he +recognized the voice of Bess Thornton, the tone of which indicated +grief. + +He emerged into the road in time to see the girl scramble out of a clump +of brakes and burdock plants by the roadside, the tears standing in her +eyes as she picked the burs from the latter out of the new dress. Just +in front of her, noting her distress with satisfaction, stood Benny +Ellison. + +"That's what you get for being so proud," he said bluntly. "You needn't +get so mad, though. I was only in fun." + +The girl's eyes blazed, angrily; but it was not the Bess Thornton of +every day that now faced the youth. Some of her fearlessness and dash +seemed to have departed, with the taking off of the old dress. + +"Let me past," she said, stepping forward; but the boy blocked her way. + +"Let me look at the new dress," he demanded. "Where'd you get so much?" + +He caught her by an arm, as she attempted to brush past him. Greatly to +his surprise, however, he felt his hand cast off and, at the same time, +he was nearly upset by a vigorous push. The youth who had done this, +apparently not the least excited, stood facing him as he recovered +himself. + +"Let the girl alone," said Henry Burns. "Let her go past." + +One could hardly have noted a trace of anger in his voice, but there +was a warning in his eye that Benny Ellison might have heeded. The +latter, however, was no longer in a mood to stop at any warning. His +flabby face reddened and his fist clenched. + +"You'll not stop me!" he cried, taking a step toward the girl. "I'll +push both of you in there, if you don't get out." + +"Just try it," said Henry Burns, quietly. + +Benny Ellison, larger and heavier than the youth who thus dared him, +hesitated only a moment. Then he rushed at Henry Burns and they +clinched. The struggle seemed over before it had hardly begun, however, +for the next moment Benny Ellison found himself lying on his back in the +road, with Henry Burns firmly holding him there. + +"Let me up!" he cried, squirming and kicking. "You don't dare let me +up." + +By way of answer, Henry Burns relinquished his hold and allowed his +antagonist to regain his feet. Again Benny Ellison, wild with anger, +made a rush for Henry Burns, aiming a blow at him as he came on. Dodging +it, and without deigning to attempt to return it, Henry Burns closed +with him once more, and they reeled together to and fro for a moment. + +If Benny Ellison had but known it, he had met with one whom Tom Harris +and Bob White, who prided themselves on their athletics, and even +stalwart Jack Harvey, had often found to be their match in wrestling. +Slight in build, but with well-knit muscles, Henry Burns was +surprisingly strong. And, above all, he never lost his head. + +The contest this time was a moment more prolonged; but again Benny +Ellison felt his feet going from under him, and again he went down--but +this time harder--to the ground. He lay for a moment, with the breath +knocked out of him. + +"Want another?" inquired Henry Burns, calmly. He had not even offered to +strike a blow. + +Benny Ellison, picking himself up slowly from the dust, hesitated a +moment; then backed away. + +"I'll have it out with you again some time," he muttered. "I'll get +square with you for this." + +Henry Burns's eyes twinkled. + +"Why not now?" he asked. + +Benny Ellison made no reply, but went on up the road. + +Bess Thornton's face, radiant with delight as Henry Burns turned to her, +suddenly clouded. + +"Guess I'll have to look out now," she said. "He'll give it to me, if he +catches me." + +Henry Burns's face wore an expression of mingled perplexity and +embarrassment. Then, as one resolved to see the thing through, he +replied, "Come on, I'll get you home all right." + + + + +CHAPTER XI + +COL. WITHAM GETS THE MILL + + +It was the evening before the glorious Fourth of July, and Tim Reardon +was dragging an iron cannon along the street, by a small rope. It was a +curious, clumsy piece of iron-mongery, about a foot and a half long, +with a heavily moulded barrel mounted on a block of wood that ran on +four wheels; a product of the local machine shop, designed for the +purpose of being indestructible rather than for show. + +Tim Reardon, smudgy-faced, but wearing an expression of deep +satisfaction, paused for a moment before a gate where stood a boy +somewhat younger than himself, who eyed the cannon admiringly. + +"Hello, Willie," said Tim. "Comin' out, ain't yer?" + +The boy shook his head, disconsolately. + +"What's the matter?" + +"Can't," said the boy. "Father won't let me." + +Tim looked at him pityingly. + +"Won't let you come out the night before the Fourth!" he exclaimed. +"Gee! I'd like to see anybody stop me. What's he 'fraid of?" + +"He isn't afraid," replied the boy. "He's mad because they make so much +noise he can't sleep. He says they haven't any right to fire off guns +and things on the Fourth." + +"Hm!" sniffed Tim. "Henry Burns says you have, and I guess he knows. +He's read all about it. He says there was a man named Adams who was a +president once, and he said everybody ought to make all the noise they +could; get out and fire guns, and blow horns, and beat on pans and yell +like everything, and build bonfires and fire off firecrackers." + +"Did he?" said the boy. "And did he say anything about getting out the +night before?" + +"Well, I dunno about that," answered Tim Reardon; "but of course the +patrioticker you are, why, the sooner you begin. It's the Fourth of July +the minute the clock strikes twelve--and, cracky, won't we make a racket +then? Henry Burns, he's got a cannon; and so's Jack Harvey and Tom +Harris and Bob White, and the Warren fellers they've got three, and a +lot of other fellers have got 'em. Just you wait till the clock strikes, +and there'll be some fun." + +"I wish I could come out," said the boy, earnestly. + +"Too bad you can't. You miss all the fun," said Little Tim. "I'll bet +George Washington was out the first of any of 'em on the Fourth of July, +when he was a boy." + +Tim's knowledge of history was not quite so ample as his patriotic +ardour. + +"Why don't you come, anyway?" he ventured. "Just tie a string around +your big toe, and hang the string out the window, and I'll come around +and wake you up. I'm going to wake George Baker that way. I don't go to +bed at all the night before the Fourth." + +The boy shook his head. + +"No, I guess not," he replied. "But say," he added quickly, "come around +in front of the house and make all the racket you can, will you? I'd +like to hear it, if I can't get out." + +"You bet we will," responded Tim, heartily. "Sammy Willis, his father +won't let him come out, and we're going 'round there; and Joe Turner, +his father won't let him come out, and we're going there, too. There's +where we go to, most." + +Tim did not explain whether this was from patriotic motives or +otherwise. But the small boy looked pleased. + +"Be sure and come around," he said. + +"Oh, you'll hear from us, all right," replied Tim. + +It was quite evident that something would be heard when, some hours +later, about a quarter of an hour before midnight, a group of boys had +gathered in the square in front of Willie Perkins's house. There was an +array of small cannon ranged about that would have sent joy to the heart +of a youthful Knox or Steuben. The boys were engaged in the act of +loading these with blasting powder, purchased at a reduced price from +the rock blasters in the valley below. + +"Here you, don't put in so much powder, young fellow," cautioned Harvey +to a smaller youth, who was about to pour a handful into a chunky +firearm. "Don't you know that it's little powder and lots of wadding +that makes her speak? I'll show you." + +Harvey measured out a small handful of the coarse, black grains, poured +them down the barrel, stuffed in some newspaper and rammed it home with +a hickory stick. Then he stuffed in a handful of grass and some more +newspaper, hammering on the ram-rod with a brick, regardless of any +danger of premature explosion. The coarse powder was not "lively," +however, and had always stood such handling. The process was continued +until the cannon was stuffed to the muzzle. Then a few grains were +dropped over the touch-hole, a long strip of paper laid over this, +weighted down with a small pebble, and was ready for lighting. + +"There," said Harvey, relinquishing the ram-rod to the youth, "that'll +speak. If you fill 'em full of powder they don't make half the noise." + +Simultaneously, Henry Burns, the Warren boys, Tom Harris, Bob White and +a dozen other lads had been loading and priming their respective pieces; +and presently they stood awaiting the striking of the town clocks. + +Willie Perkins's father, who had been hard at work all the evening with +a congenial party in his office, at a game of euchre, was just getting +his first nap, having congratulated himself on retiring, that, if the +neighbourhood's rest was disturbed, his son at least would not +contribute toward it. Willie Perkins, having extended a cordial +invitation to the boys to come around and visit his esteemed parent, +was himself fast asleep. + +Clang! The first town clock to take cognizance of the arrival of the +glorious Fourth struck a lusty note, that rang out loudly on the clear +night air. But there was no response from the eager gunners. It was not +yet Fourth of July. It would have gone hard with the boy that had fired. + +Clang and clang again. The twelfth call was still ringing in the iron +throat of the old bell, high in its steeple, when Harvey shouted, "Now +give it to her!" + +There was a hasty scratching of matches. The strips of paper began to +burn; slowly at first, while the boys scattered; then quickly, +sputtering as the flame caught the first few grains of powder. + +A moment later, it seemed to Willie Perkins's father as though he had +been lifted completely out of his bed by some violent concussion, while +a roar like the blast of battle shook the house. The glorious Fourth had +begun in Benton. + +Springing to his feet, Mr. Perkins uttered a denunciation of the day +that would have made the signers of the Declaration of Independence turn +in their graves, while he rushed to the window. Throwing it open, he +peered out into the square. There was not a boy in sight. Retreat had +already begun, ignominiously, from the field. + +"If they come around again--" muttered Mr. Perkins. He did not finish +the sentence, but went along a hallway and looked into his son's room. +"Are you there, William?" he inquired sternly. + +"Yes; can I get up now? Must be most morning." + +"Get up!" replied the elder Perkins. "Just let me catch you getting up +before daylight! If I had my way, there wouldn't be any firing guns or +firecrackers on Fourth of July. It's barbarism--not patriotism. + +"Willie," he added, "do you know any of those boys out there to-night?" + +"How can I tell, if you won't let me go out?" whined Willie. + +"I'd like to know who put it into people's heads to fire off guns on the +Fourth," exclaimed Mr. Perkins. "He must have been a rowdy." + +Willie Perkins made a mental note that he would look up President Adams +next morning, for his father's benefit. + +Mr. Perkins returned to his bed-room and closed his eyes once more. His +was not a sweet and peaceful sleep, however. Benton was awakening to the +Fourth in divers localities, and sounds from afar, of fish-horns and +giant crackers, of bells and barking dogs, came in, in tumultuous +confusion. + +"Confound the Fourth of July!" muttered Mr. Perkins. "I didn't disturb +people this way when I was a boy." + +But perhaps Mr. Perkins forgot. + +There came by, shortly, a party of intensely patriotic youth from the +mill settlement under the hill. Their particular brand of patriotism +manifested itself in beating with small bars of iron on a large +circular saw, suspended on a stick thrust through the hole in its centre +and borne triumphantly between two youths. The reverberation, the +deafening clangour of this, cannot possibly be described, or appreciated +by one that has never heard it. Suffice it to say, that the fish-horns, +even the cannon, were insignificant by comparison. + +Mr. Perkins groaned and half arose. But the party went along past, +without offering to stop--perhaps because they had received no +invitation from Willie. Moreover, it seemed as though half the town was +astir by this time and giving vent to its enthusiasm. Benton had a +remarkable way of getting boyish on the morning of the Fourth, which the +elder Perkins could not understand. + +When, however, an hour later, another shock of cannon shook his chamber, +followed immediately by what sounded to him like a derisive blast of +fish-horns, there was no more irresolution left in him. Hastily arising +and throwing a coat over his shoulders, and dashing a hat over his +eyes--the first one that came to hand, and which happened to be a tall +beaver--Mr. Perkins, barefoot and in his night-clothes, a not imposing +guardian of the peace, sped down the front stairs and out into the +street. + +A cry of alarm, the rumble of cannon dragged by ropes over the shoulders +of a squad of youths in full flight, and the exclamations of the +indignant Mr. Perkins, marked the occasion. + +Fear lent its wings to the pursued; wrath served to lighten the bare +heels of Mr. Perkins. He was gaining, when one of the youth, cumbered +in flight by his artillery piece, let go the string. The cannon +remaining in the path of Mr. Perkins, he stumbled over it, and it hurt +his toe. He paused and picked up the cannon, but relinquished it to +grasp his toe, which demanded all his attention. He decided, then and +there, that the pursuit, which had extended about three blocks, was +useless, and abandoned it. Limping slightly, he started homeward. + +Somewhat like the British retreat from Concord and Lexington, was the +return of Mr. Perkins to his home. A piece of burning punk lay in the +road, and presently he stepped on that. The fleeing forces had doubled +on their tracks, also, and a fire-cracker exploded near him. Then a +torpedo. And there was no enemy in sight to take revenge on. Mr. Perkins +hastened his steps and was soon, himself, in full retreat. + +Then, when presently he was conscious of the raising of curtains in +near-by windows, and felt the eyes of several of his neighbours directed +toward his weird costume, Mr. Perkins no longed walked. He ran. As he +closed the door behind him and tramped wearily up the stairs, the voice +of his son greeted him. + +"Say, pa, is it time to get up now?" + +Mr. Perkins's reply was most decidedly unpatriotic. + +The hours went by, and a rapid fire of small artillery ran throughout +Benton and along its whole frontier line. Even the bells in the +steeples, no longer solemn, clanged forth their defiance to +authority--which was the only thing that slumbered in the town on this +occasion. + +But Benton had other observances for its boisterous display of spirits, +the origin of which no one seemed to know, but which were participated +in each year by the new generation of youths, with careful observance of +tradition. + +There were the "Horribles," for example, not to have ridden in which at +some time of one's life was to have left one page blank. The procession +of "Horribles," otherwise known as "Ragamuffins," usually started at +about six in the morning, marching through the streets until nine;--by +which time the endurance of a youth who had been out all night usually +came to an end. + +Now, as the hour of three was passed, certain eager and impatient +aspirants for first place in the line began to make their appearance on +horseback in the streets of Benton, clattering about on steeds that had +never before known a saddle; weird figures, masked uncouthly in +pasteboard representations of Indians, animals and what-not, and clad in +every sort of costume, from rags to ancient uniforms--a noisy, +tatterdemalion band, blowing horns and discharging firearms. + +There was Tim Reardon, mounted on an aged truck horse, that drooped its +head and ambled with half-closed eyes, as though it might at any moment +fall off to sleep again. Sticking like a monkey to its bare back was +Tim, his face hidden behind a monstrous mask, his head surmounted by a +battered silk hat, extracted from a convenient refuse heap; a fish-horn +slung about his neck by a string. + +There was Henry Burns, with face blackened and a huge wooden tomahawk at +his belt; he, likewise, astride, on one of Mr. Harris's work horses. A +more mettlesome steed upheld Jack Harvey, but not at all willingly, +since it had an uncertain way of backing without warning into fences and +trees, to the detriment of its rider's shins. The firing of a huge +horse-pistol by Harvey seemed to aggravate rather than soothe the +animal's feelings. + +The Warren brothers had contrived a sort of float, consisting of an +express wagon, gorgeously covered with coloured cloths, even interwoven +in the spokes of the wheels, and wound around the body of the horse that +drew it. A wash-boiler, its legitimate usefulness long over, set up in +the wagon, was beaten on by Arthur and Joe Warren, while their elder +brother drove. + +Tom Harris, Bob White and a scattering of other grotesque horsemen came +along presently. + +"Where'll we go?" queried Harvey, as the squadron paused to rest after a +preliminary round of some of the streets. + +"Past Perkins's house again," suggested young Joe Warren. + +"No, we've been by there twice already," answered Henry Burns. "He won't +like Fourth of July if we give him too much of it." + +Young Joe grinned behind his mask. + +"I'll tell you," he said, excitedly. "We've got time to do it, too, +before the parade begins--Witham's! Bet he's sound asleep--what do you +say?" + +"Come on," cried Henry Burns. "Will you go, fellows?" + +A whoop of delight gave acquiescence. The procession clattered out of +Benton and started up the valley road by the stream. + +They went along noisily at first, beating their battered tinware, +setting off giant firecrackers, blowing horns and whooping lustily. +Farmers along the road opened a sleepy eye as they passed, remembered it +was the morning of the Fourth, and turned over for another nap. Pickerel +in the stream dived their noses into the soft mud at the lowest depths. +Night-hawks, high above, swooped after their prey and added their weird +noise to the din. Yellow-hammers and thrushes, rudely roused, darted +from their nests and took flight silently into the thicker screen of the +woods. + +But, as the riders neared the Ellison dam, and heard the first sound of +the falling water, they subsided, planning to take the neighbourhood, +and particularly the occupants of the Half Way House, above, by +surprise. Thus silently going along, they were aware of a light wagon, +drawn by a lively stepping horse, turning from the road that led up to +the Ellison farm and coming on toward them. + +"Hello!" exclaimed George Warren; "it's Doctor Wells. Something's up. +Wonder what's the matter." + +Doctor Wells, coming up to the leaders, reined in his horse and +regarded the procession with a mingled expression of good humour and +anxiety. + +"Pretty early to start the Fourth, isn't it?" he asked. "What's that you +say? Going to wake up Colonel Witham--and Ellison?" + +His face assumed a serious expression. + +"Wake Jim Ellison," he repeated, as though he was speaking more to +himself than to them. "I wish you could. 'Twould stop lots of trouble, +I'm thinking. No man can wake poor Jim Ellison. He's dead. Went off +quick not a half hour ago. Got a shock, and that was the end of him. +You'll have to turn back, boys." + +Quietly and soberly, the procession turned about and headed for Benton. +The parade that morning was minus a good part of its expected members. + +One week later, Lawyer James Estes of Benton, carrying some transcripts +of legal papers under his arm, walked up the driveway to the Ellison +farm and knocked at the front door. A woman, sad-eyed and anxious, +opened to his knock and ushered him into the front parlour. + +"I'm afraid I've got bad news for you, Mrs. Ellison," he said, in +response to her look of inquiry. "I'm sorry to say it looks as though +your husband's affairs were much involved at the time of his death. I +find those deeds were given to Colonel Witham. They're on record, and I +suppose Witham has the original papers, duly signed. We'll know all +about it as soon as he returns. He went out of town, you say, the day +Mr. Ellison died?" + +"Yes," she replied; "never came near us, nor sent us word of sympathy. +I'm afraid he didn't want to see us. I never wanted James to have +business dealings with him. Does the mill go, too?" + +"I'm afraid it does," answered Lawyer Estes. "Why, didn't you know about +it? Your name is signed, too, you know, else the deeds are not good." + +"Oh, yes, I suppose I did sign them, if they're on record," said Mrs. +Ellison. "I was always signing papers for James. He said everything +would be all right. I didn't know anything about the business--dear, +dear--I thought the boys would have the mill when James was too old to +work it. It's good property, if it does look shabby." + +"Well, we'll make the best of it and do all we can," said Lawyer Estes. +"Perhaps Witham can straighten it out when he returns. If he can't, +there seems to be no doubt that the mill and some of the farm belong to +him. We've hunted everywhere about your home and about the mill, and +there are no papers that save us. We must wait for Colonel Witham." + +It was a little more than two weeks before Colonel Witham did return to +his hotel. Had he gotten out of the way, thus hurriedly, to see what +turn James Ellison's affairs might take? Had he hopes that the deeds he +knew of might by some chance not be found? Was his absence carefully +timed, to allow of whatever search was bound to be made to be done and +gotten over with, ere he should presume to lay claim to the property? +It would not do to declare himself owner, should the chance arise, and +then have the deeds that he had given back secretly to Ellison turn up. +It were safer surely to remain away and see what would happen. + +At all events, when on a certain day the droning of the mill told that +its wheels had resumed their interrupted grinding, there might have been +seen, within, the burly form of Colonel Witham, moving about as one with +authority. Short, curt were his answers. There was little to be made out +of him by Lawyer Estes or anyone else. What was his business was +his--and nobody else's. There were the deeds, duly signed. If anyone had +a better claim to the property, let him show it. As for the Ellison +boys--and all other boys--they could keep away, unless they had corn to +be ground. The mill was no place for them. + +And yet, as the days went by, one might have fancied, if he had +observed, that all was not easy in the mind of the new owner of the +mill. They might have noted in his manner a continual restlessness; a +wandering about the mill from room to room; prying into odd corners here +and there; pounding upon the beams and partitions; poking under +stair-ways; rummaging into long unused chutes and bins; for ever +hunting, anxious-eyed; as though the mill had an evil and troublous +influence over his spirits. + +And now and then, pausing in the midst of his searching, the new owner +might have been heard to exclaim, "Well, if I can't find them, nobody +else can. That's sure." + +But Colonel Witham did not discontinue his searching. And the mill gave +up no secrets. + + + + +CHAPTER XII + +THE GOLDEN COIN + + +Mill stream, coming down from afar up the country, on its way to Samoset +river and bay, flowed in many moods. Now it glided deep and smooth, +almost imperceptibly, along steep banks that went up wooded to the sky +line. Again it hurled itself recklessly down rocky inclines, frothing +and foaming and fighting its way by sheer force through barriers of +reefs. Now it went swiftly and pleasantly over sand shallows, rippling +and seeming almost to sing a tune as it ran; again it turned back on its +course in little eddies, backing its waters into shaded, still pools, +where the pickerel loved to hide. + +They were lazy fellows, the pickerel. One might, if he were a lucky and +persevering fisherman, take a trout in the swift waters of the brook; +but for the pickerel, theirs was not the joy of such exertion. In the +dark, silent places along Mill stream, where never a ripple disturbed +their seclusion, you might see one, now and then, lying motionless in +the shadow of an overhanging branch, at the surface of the water, as +though asleep. + +They were not eager to bite then, in the warmth of the day. You might +troll by the edges of the lily pads for half an hour, and the pickerel +that made his haunt there would scarce wink a sleepy eye, or flicker a +fin. At morn and evening they were ready for you; and a quick, sudden +whirl in the glassy, black water often gave invitation then to cast a +line. + +In the early hours of a July morning, a little way up from Ellison's +dam, a youth stood up to his middle among the lily pads, wielding a +long, jointed bamboo pole, and trolling a spoon-hook past the outer +fringe of the flat, green leaves. He was whistling, softly--an +indication that he was happy. He was sunburned, freckle-faced, hatless, +coatless. He wore only a thin and faded cotton blouse, the sleeves of it +rolled up, and a pair of trousers, rolled up above his knees--for +convenience rather than to protect them, for he had waded in, waist +deep. + +Tied about him was a piece of tarred rope, from which there dangled the +luckless victims of his skill, three pickerel. That they were freshly +caught was evidenced by their flopping vigorously now and then, as the +boy entered the deeper water, and opening their big, savage looking +mouths as though they would like to swallow their captor. + +A splash out yonder, just beside the clump of arrow-shaped pickerel +weed! Tim Reardon's heart beat joyfully, as he turned and saw the +ripples receding from the spot where the fish had jumped. He swung his +long rod, dropped the troll skilfully near the blue blossoms that +adorned the clump of weed, and drew it temptingly past. The spoon +revolved rapidly, gleaming with alternate red and silver, the bright +feathers that clothed the gang of hooks at the end trailing after. + +Another splash, and a harder one. Tim Reardon "struck" and the fish was +fast. Now it lashed the water furiously, fighting for its life. But it +was not a big fish, and Tim Reardon lifted it clear of the water so that +it swung in where he could clutch it with eager hands. Grasping it just +back of the gills, he disengaged the hook cautiously, avoiding the sharp +rows of teeth that lined the long jaws. He slung the pickerel on the +line, and whistled gleefully. + +It was a royal day for fishing; with just a thin shading of clouds to +shield the water from the glare of sun; the water still and smooth; the +shadows very black in the shady places. + +It is safe to say, no one in all Benton knew the old stream like Tim +Reardon. He fished it day after day from morn till evening, before and +after school hours, and now in the vacation at all times. Tom Harris and +Bob White knew it as canoeists; but Tim Reardon, following the ins and +outs of its shores for miles above the Ellison dam, knew every little +turn and twist in its shore. + +He knew the places where the pickerel hid; where the water was swift, or +shallow, or choked with weeds, and where to leave the shore and make a +detour through the grain fields past these places. There were deep pools +where the pickerel seldom rose to the troll, but asked to have their +dinner sent down to them in the form of a fresh shiner; and Tim Reardon +knew these pools, and when to remove the troll and put on his sinker and +live bait. + +He could have told you every inch of the country between Ellison's dam +and the falls four miles above; where you would find buckwheat fields; +where the corn patches were; where apple orchards bordered them; where +the groves of beech-trees were, with the red squirrel colonies in the +stumps near-by; and where the best place was to pause for noon luncheon, +in the shade of some pines, where there was a spring bubbling up cool on +the hottest days, in which you could set a bottle of coffee and have it +icy cold in a half-hour. + +There were big hemlocks along the way, in the rotted parts of which the +yellow-hammers built their nests and laid their white eggs; hard trees +to climb, with their huge trunks. He knew the time to scale the tall +pines where the crows built, to find the scrawny young birds, with +wide-open mouths and skinny bodies, that looked like birds visited by +famine. He knew where the red columbines blossomed on the face of some +tall cliffs, where the stream flowed through a rocky gorge; and how to +crawl painfully down a zigzag course from the top to gather these, at +the risk of falling seventy feet to the rocks below. + +There were a thousand and one delights of the old stream that were a joy +to his heart--though one would not have expected to find sentiment +lodged in the breast of Little Tim. As for the boy, he only knew that +it was all very dear to him, and that the whole valley of the stream was +a source of perpetual happiness. + +He waded ashore now and went on, his pole over his shoulder, whistling, +filled with an enjoyment that he could not for the world have described; +but which was born amid the singing of the stream, the droning of bees, +the noises of birds and insects, in a lazy murmur that filled all the +quiet valley. + +It was rare fun following the winding of that stream; among little +hills, by the edges of meadows and through groves of mingled cedars and +birches. Now and then he would rest and watch its noiseless flowing, +past some spot where the branches hung close over the water; where the +stream flowed so smoothly and quietly that the shadows asleep on its +surface were never disturbed. + +The noon hour came, and Little Tim seated himself for his luncheon on a +knoll carpeted with thick, tufted grass. A kingfisher, disturbed by his +arrival, went rattling on his way upstream. And as the boy drew from his +dingy blouse a scrap of brown paper, enclosing a bit of bread and +cheese, and laid it down beside him, the stream seemed to be dancing +just before him at the tune he whistled; a swinging, whirling dance from +shore to shore; a butterfly dance, through a setting of buttercups and +daisies; with here and there a shaft of sunlight thrown upon it, where +the thin clouds parted. + +Afternoon came, and the shadows of the low hills were thrown far across +the stream. Here and there a splash denoted that the fish were waking +from their midday torpor and were ready for prey. Little Tim resumed his +rod, and slowly retraced his steps along the shore in the direction of +Ellison dam and Benton. + +It was about four o'clock as he neared a point in the stream a half-mile +above the dam, where the water flowed very quietly past the edge of some +thick alders. There were pickerel in that water. Tim knew the place of +old; and he drew near softly, to make a cast. The bright troll fell with +a tinkle on the still surface, and he drew it temptingly past the +thicket. + +A quick whirl--and how the line did tauten and the rod bend! The whole +tip of it went under water. He had struck a big fish. He brought him to +the surface with some effort; but the fish was not to be easily subdued. +A sudden dart and he was away again, diving deep and straining the rod +to its utmost. + +Seeing he had a fish of unusual size, the boy played him carefully; let +him have the line and tire himself for a moment, then reeled in as the +line slackened. + +"He's a four pounder; giminy, how he fights!" exclaimed Little Tim. And +he gave a sudden yell of triumph as he saw that the fish was firmly +hooked, with the troll far down its distended jaws. + +Then his impatience got the better of him, and he gave a great lift on +the rod, with the line reeled up short. Just at that moment too, it +seemed the fish had tired; for, as Tim strained, the big pickerel came +out of water as with a leap. The stout rod straightened with a jerk that +yanked the fish out, sent it flying through the air and lodged it away +up in the top of some thick alders that bordered the shore. There, the +line tangling, it hung suspended, twisting and doubling in vain effort +to free itself. + +Little Tim laughed joyfully. + +"Got to shin for that fellow," he said, stepping ashore and eying the +prize that dangled above his head. + +But, as he stooped to lay down his pole, the discharge of a shotgun +close at hand made him jump with astonishment. Still more amazed was he +to see the dangling fish fall between the alder branches to the ground. +Then, before he had recovered from his astonishment, a youth dashed +forward and seized it. + +The youth was Benny Ellison. + +Little Tim's blood was up. + +"Think you're smart, don't you," he cried, "shooting my fish. Here, +gimme that. What do you think you're doing?" + +But Benny Ellison, holding the big pickerel away from Tim, showed no +intention of giving it up. + +"Who told you it was your fish?" he replied, sneeringly. "I shot it. +It's mine." + +"Give me back that fish!" repeated Little Tim. "I'll tell Harvey on you. +You'll get another ducking." + +He seized Benny Ellison by an arm, but the other, bigger and stronger, +pushed him back roughly. + +"Go on," he said, and added, while a grin overspread his fat face, +"That's no fish, anyway. Whoever heard of catching fish in trees? That's +a bird, Timmy, and I shot it. See its tail-feathers?" + +He swung the fish and gave Little Tim a slap over the head with the tail +of it, that brought the tears to Tim's eyes. + +"Go on, tell Harvey," he said. "This bird's mine." + +Dangling the pickerel by the gills, and shouldering his gun, he pushed +on upstream through the alders, leaving Little Tim angry and smarting. + +"I'll get even with you, Benny Ellison," called Tim; but the other only +laughed and went on. + +Tim slowly unjointed his rod, tied the pieces together in a compact +bundle, gathered up his string of remaining fish and started homeward. +When he had gone on about a quarter of a mile, however, he suddenly +paused and stood for a moment, considering something. Then he looked +about him, stepped into a little thicket where he hid his pole and fish +carefully from sight, then retraced his steps upstream. + +He went on through the alders and brush, till presently he heard the +report of the gun. Guided by the sound, he continued on for a little +way, then shinned into the branches of a tall cedar, heavily wooded, and +from there got a view upstream. Several rods away, he could see the +alders move, thrust aside by Benny Ellison. Little Tim seated himself +amid the branches, safely hidden, and waited. + +Some ten or fifteen minutes passed, and then the snapping of underbrush +told of the approach of Benny Ellison, on his return. That his shot had +told was evidenced by another pickerel which he carried, hung by the +gills on the crotch of an alder branch, together with the big fellow +that Little Tim had caught. Tim's eyes snapped as he saw the fish. + +Benny Ellison, chuckling to himself, passed the tree where Tim crouched, +high above him. Almost within the shadow of it, he stopped and laughed +heartily, as he glanced down at the big pickerel. + +"It's a bird," he cried. "Shot it in a tree--what luck!" + +Not until he had gone some distance did Little Tim emerge from hiding, +scramble to the ground and follow. Dodging from tree to tree, and +pausing frequently, he saw Benny Ellison finally seat himself on a log +beside the stream. Tim waited. Then a smile of satisfaction crossed his +freckled face as Benny Ellison began stripping off his clothes for a +swim. + +Little Tim, crouching low, almost crawling, crept closer. + +Benny Ellison stood on a bank by the edge of a deep pool, a favourite +swimming-place, where he and his cousins, and Little Tim, too, had had +many a swim. The water was inviting, with the sultriness of the +afternoon. Tim's heart beat high as he saw Benny Ellison plunge +headforemost into the pool. + +Then Tim's hopes were realized. Benny Ellison, a good swimmer, struck +out into midstream toward a reef that protruded a few feet above water. + +Crawling on hands and knees, Tim quickly gained the shelter of the log +where the other had thrown his clothes, with the fish dropped just +alongside. Tim made sure of his fish, first. He pulled it hastily from +the stick, leaving the one that Benny Ellison had shot, afterwards, +unmolested for the moment. + +Then he dragged Benny Ellison's cotton shirt down behind the log. +Seizing the sleeves, he proceeded to tie the thin garment into hard +knots. It was the old schoolboy trick. He had had it played on him many +a time in swimming--and done the same by others; but he had never +entered into the prank with half the zest as now. He tugged at the knots +and drew them hard. + +"That shirt's a bird," he said softly, eying the shapeless bundle, with +a grin. Then he served the trousers and the "galluses" the same way; +likewise Benny Ellison's socks. Finally, having it all dona to suit him, +he stood erect upon the log and called out to the swimmer. + +"Say, Benny," he cried, "here's your bird." And, stooping and picking up +Benny Ellison's pickerel, he hurled the dead fish far out into the +stream. The fish struck the water with a splash, as Benny Ellison, +turning in dismay and wrath, started back with vigorous strokes. + +"There's another bird on the log for you, Benny," called Tim. Then, +picking up his own fish, he scampered. Benny Ellison's slower steps +could not have equalled the pace set by those bare feet, had he been +ashore. By the time he was on land again, Little Tim, his pole and +string of fish regained, was half-way to the Ellison dam. + +A voice stopped him as he was emerging on to the main road, just below +Witham's Half Way House. He turned and saw Bess Thornton. + +"Hello, Tim," she called, "what's the matter? Anybody after you? My, but +I guess you've been running fast." + +Tim Reardon, wiping his face with his sleeves, told her what had +happened. The girl danced with glee, while her bright eyes sparkled. + +"Oh, goody!" she exclaimed. "Wouldn't I just like to have seen that fat +old Benny Ellison try to catch you. My, but you always have the luck, +don't you? That's a grand string of fish." + +Tim Reardon, unstringing two of the pickerel from the rope, transferred +them to a twig of alder that he cut from a near by bush, and handed them +to her. + +"I've got more'n I want," he said. + +"Thanks," said the girl, and added, "Say, Tim, I'll tell you something. +I saw four trout in the brook this morning, and one of them was that +long." + +She measured with her hands, held a little more than a foot apart. + +"Where was it--about a mile above your house?" queried Tim. + +The girl nodded. + +"In the pool where the big tree's fallen across," she said. + +"I guess he's the big one I've tried to get, a lot of times," said Tim. +"But I haven't seen him lately. I thought he'd gone down into Ellison's +pool. I'd like to see him." + +He was a fisherman by nature, was Little Tim, and the very mention of +the big trout made his eyes twinkle. + +"Come on up," said Bess Thornton. + +Tim hesitated. "It's most too late," he replied. "I'll be late to supper +now, if I don't run." + +"Oh, never mind," she urged. "I'll show you just where I saw him. I just +as lieve you'd catch him." + +The invitation was too much for Tim, and he started off across the +fields with Bess Thornton. + +"That fish'll never bite," he said, as they went along; "I've tried him +with worms and grasshoppers and wasps and crickets, and that fly made of +feathers that Jack gave me. He knows a whole lot, that old trout. Guess +he's a school-teacher, he knows so much." + +"I'm going to catch him, anyway, if you don't," said the girl. "I know +what I'm going to do." + +"What's that?" asked Tim, in a tone that indicated he had no great faith +in her success. + +"I'm going to bait up two hooks with a whole lot of worms, and I'm not +going to put 'em into the pool till after it gets dark," replied Bess +Thornton. "And I'm going to let 'em stay there all night. He's such a +sly old thing you can't get near the bank without he knows it. Then when +it gets morning, and he's hungry, perhaps he'll see all those worms and +just go and catch himself." + +"Yes, and get away again long before you get back," said Tim Reardon. +"He'll just take and tangle that line all up around the rocks and sticks +at the bottom, and break it." + +"I'm going to try, anyway," she insisted. They turned in at the path +leading to the girl's home presently, and she went in with the pickerel. + +"I'll dig some bait for you while you're gone," called Tim. + +"I can do it," she said. + +"Oh, you're all dressed up," said Tim, who had noted her unusual +appearance, clad as she was in her new bright sailor-suit. + +"Going to change it," she said, "Had to put it on to go to Benton in." + +She went into the house, and Tim Reardon, seizing a spade that he found +leaning against the shed, made his way to a corner of the house, where +an old water-spout came down, from the gutter that caught the rain on +the roof. He was turning up the soil there when the girl reappeared. + +"Oh, that isn't the place to dig," she said. "I never dig for worms +there." + +"Well, here's the place to find 'em," asserted Tim. "I'm getting some. +You always find angleworms where the ground's moist. They like it, +because the rain comes down off the roof here. There you are, grab that +fat fellow." + +The girl made a grab at a bit of the soft earth, where a worm was +wriggling back into its hole. + +"Ugh! he got away," she said, opening her hand and letting the dirt drop +through her fingers. The next moment she uttered a little cry of +surprise. + +"I've got something, though," she exclaimed. "Look, Tim, it's +money--it's a coin. Where do you suppose it came from? Perhaps it's good +yet. If I can spend it, I'll go halves." + +The boy took the piece of money from her fingers. It was dull and +tarnished; a little larger in size than a ten cent piece, but it was not +silver. + +Tim Reardon looked at it intently and rubbed its sides on his trousers +leg. + +"Say, Bess," he said earnestly, "do you know what I think--I guess it's +gold. Yes, I do. 'Tisn't American money, though. It's got a queer head +on it, see, a man with some sort of a thing on his head like a wreath. +Oh, my, but that's too bad. Look, Bess, there's a hole been bored in it. +P'raps you can't spend it." + +Near the edge, there was, in truth, a tiny depression, nearly obscured +by dirt and corrosion, which seemed to indicate that the coin had at +some time been pierced, as though it might have been worn by someone as +an ornament. + +"Let's scrub it," said the girl. "Perhaps it'll brighten up, so we can +see it better." + +They went in with it to the kitchen sink, where Bess Thornton, getting +a basin of warm water and soap, proceeded to polish the coin with a +small brush. It soon brightened sufficiently to reveal the unmistakable +gleam of gold, and was a foreign coin of some sort, possibly of Austrian +coinage; but the letters which it had borne, and the figures, had been +worn much away; and one side was worn quite smooth, so as to give no +clew to what had been stamped there. + +"Well, I can wear it, if I can't spend it," said Bess Thornton. "There's +the hole to hang it by. Isn't it pretty?" + +"Isn't what pretty?" said a voice, suddenly interrupting them. Old +Granny Thornton was peering over the girl's shoulder. "What are you two +doing? What have you got there?" + +"See, gran'," replied the girl. "Look what we found. It's money, gran', +and it's gold." + +The old woman took the coin in her thin fingers and held it up close to +her eyes. Then she started and her hand shook tremulously. A pallor +overspread her face. She sank back into a chair, staring at the coin, +which she clutched tight as though it had some strange fascination that +held her gaze. + +"Where did you get that?" she cried hoarsely. "Where was it?" + +"We dug it up just now, gran', out in the yard. Why, what's the matter? +Can't I keep it? What makes you act so queer, gran'?" + +The old woman hesitated for a moment and seemed lost for a reply. Then +she said, hurriedly: + +"No, girl--no, not now. You shall have it some day. You can't have it +yet. It isn't time. You wore it once when you were little--but it was +lost. Oh, how I've hunted for it! You'll get it again. I'll keep it +safe, this time." + +She was strangely agitated and spoke in broken tones. Then, to their +surprise, she arose and hurried from the room, waving the girl back and +bidding her go and play. They heard her go stumbling up the stairs to +the floor above. + +"Mean old thing!" exclaimed Bess. "Well, I don't care. Let her keep it. +I'll find where she hides it, see if I don't. Come on, let's go out +doors." + +Granny Thornton, peering out an attic window at the boy and girl, going +up along the brook, turned and felt along a dusty beam until her fingers +rested on a key. With this she unlocked a drawer of an old bureau, that +stood in a dark, out-of-the-way corner. There were some odds and ends of +clothing there, and some boxes and papers. From out the stuff, she drew, +with trembling fingers, a small gold chain, such as children wear. +Fumbling over this, she unclasped a tiny clasp and affixed the golden +coin. Then, holding it up to her eyes, she gazed at it long and +earnestly; replaced it in the drawer, locked this, hid the key again and +stole down the stairs. + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + +A SAILING ADVENTURE + + +John Ellison, a youth of about fifteen, but of a sturdy build and manner +that might lead one to suppose him older, stood by the gateway of the +Ellison farm, looking down across the fields towards the mill. It was +busy grinding and, as its monotonous tones came up to him, the boy shook +his head sadly. An expression as of anger overspread his manly young +face, and his cheeks flushed. + +"It's wrong," he exclaimed, speaking his thoughts aloud; "I'll bet +there's some trick about it. Father always said we should run the mill +some day. It makes me mad to see old Witham sneaking about, afraid to +look any of us in the face; but I suppose there's no help for it." + +He went up the driveway to the house, got an axe from the woodshed and +began splitting some pieces of sawed oak and hickory from a great pile +in the yard. It was a relief to his pent-up feelings, and he drove the +axe home with powerful blows. He was a strong, handsome youth, with face +and arms healthily bronzed with work in the open air. He laid a big junk +of the oak across the chopping-block, swung the axe, and cleft the +stick with a single blow that sent the halves flying in either +direction. + +"That was a good stroke--a corker," exclaimed a youth who had entered +the yard and come up quietly behind him. John Ellison turned quickly. + +"Hello, Henry," he said. "Where'd you come from?" + +"Just had a swim," replied Henry Burns. "I see where you get all that +muscle, now. That's good as canoeing, I guess." + +"Well," responded John Ellison, looking rather serious, "I reckon I'll +do more of it from now on than canoeing; though I've done my share of +work all along. I'm running the farm now--that is, what we've got left. +Witham's got a good part of it. I suppose you know, don't you?" + +Henry Burns nodded. "It's a shame," he said. "But perhaps it'll come out +right in the end." + +"I don't see how," said John Ellison. "Witham's got the mill, and the +big wood lot where we used to cut most of the wood we sold every fall, +and the great meadow up opposite old Granny Thornton's, with the +hayfield in it. We've got enough left close by here to keep us from +starving, all right; but it isn't what it ought to be. We've had to sell +half the cows, because we can't feed them." + +Henry Burns whistled. "It's tough," he said, and added, doubtfully, "How +about that week up at the pond? Can you go?" + +John Ellison looked downcast. "I'd forgotten all about that," he said. +"We did plan for a week at Old Whitecap, didn't we? I'm afraid it's all +up for me, though. There's haying to be done, a lot of wood to be cut, +and chores. I guess you'll have to count me out. I might let Jim go for +a couple of days, though," he added, speaking as though he were a dozen +years older than his brother, instead of only one. + +"No, you're the one that was going," responded Henry Burns; "you could +go if the work were done, couldn't you?" + +"Perhaps," replied John Ellison; "but there's enough there to take us +more than a fortnight. Benny don't count for much; he's too lazy." + +"Well, we'll get the work done, all right," said Henry Burns; "and then +we'll take you with us." + +John Ellison laughed. "You city fellows wouldn't like farm work, much, I +guess," he said. + +He hardly took Henry Burns seriously, especially as the latter spoke but +little more about the project; but, the next day, looking up from his +work, at the sound of wagon wheels, he saw a cart coming up the hill, +laden with baggage and a party of boys. Tom Harris was driving, and +beside him on the seat were Bob White and Henry Burns. In the body of +the cart were Jack Harvey and Tim Reardon. These two were seated amidst +a pile of camp stuff. + +"Well, we're here," said Henry Burns, laughing, as the boys piled out of +the cart. "Hope you've got something for us all to do. You'll find us +green, but we won't shirk." + +John Ellison stared at them in amazement. "You better go on out to the +pond," he said. "I don't want to keep you fellows. Perhaps Jim and I can +get out for a couple of days before you come in. Besides, you want to +look out for Benny," he added, winking at Henry Burns. "He says he's +going to thrash you some day." + +"Oh, I'm all right," laughed Henry Burns. "I've got Jack here to help me +out now. What'll we do, John? Come on, we're losing time." + +"Well, if you really want to," replied John Ellison, somewhat +reluctantly, "two of you can go down in the haying field and help Jim; +and there's this wood's got to be split, and the corn and potatoes to be +hoed." He pointed, as he spoke, to two great fields of the latter. +"We'll set Tim catching potato bugs," he added, smiling. + +"I'll catch 'em," responded Tim, heartily. "I wonder what kind of bait +they'd make for trout." + +They divided up then, Tom and Bob, equipped with pitchforks, starting +off for the haying field; Henry Burns and Tim following John Ellison +into the garden; while Harvey, his waist stripped to a faded sleeveless +jersey, attacked the woodpile with a strength and energy that made up +for his lack of familiarity with the work. + +He was busily engaged when Mrs. Ellison looked out at the kitchen door. + +"Why," she said, in surprise, "I didn't know we had a new hand. Oh, I +see, you're one of the boys' friends." + +Harvey explained. + +"Well, I call that good of you," exclaimed Mrs. Ellison, her pleasant, +motherly face beaming. "Let the boys go after it's done? Why, of course. +They can both go. Benny will help me through the week, all right, won't +you, Benny?" + +The youth thus addressed, who had just put in an appearance, his gun +over his shoulder, assented, though not with much heartiness. He scowled +at Harvey, and made no offer to be friendly. + +"I suppose you want to go on the pond, too," said Mrs. Ellison, +sympathetically. + +Benny Ellison glanced sullenly at Harvey. "Not with those city chaps," +he replied. + +The "city chaps," sneeringly referred to by Benny Ellison, proved +themselves good workmen, however. Unused to farm labour, as they were, +their muscles were, however, far from being soft and easily tired. Tom +and Bob, who excelled at athletics, surprised Jim Ellison with the +amount of hay they could stack up into cocks, or, again, the amount they +could spread and scatter; and they were tireless in following him +through all the broad field. Henry Burns and Little Tim were of the wiry +sort that never seemed to weary; while Harvey made the pile of split +wood grow in a way that made Mrs. Ellison's eyes stick out. + +Then, at noon, when the big farm dinner-bell rang, there was a great +table spread for them in the long dining-room, fairly creaking with an +array of good things to eat; with plenty of rich milk and doughnuts and +home-made gingerbread to finish up with. Little Tim's thin face seemed +to be almost bulging when he had done; and he ate his sixth doughnut in +gallant style. + +He was nearly wild with delight, too, late that afternoon, when he got +permission to fish the famous Ellison trout pool; and he came back in +time for supper with a fine string of the fish, brilliantly spotted +fellows, which Mrs. Ellison fried to a crisp for the crew of boy farmers +when their day's work was over. + +There came a little knock at the door when they were eating supper, and +Bess Thornton, come for a pitcher of milk, looked in at the group of +merry youngsters. + +"My, what fun!" she exclaimed, and speaking half to herself added, "I +wish I lived here too. Gran' said--" + +"What's that? Why, I wish you did live here," exclaimed Mrs. Ellison, +stepping back with the pitcher in her hands at the girl's words, and +looking into her bright, eager face with eyes that suddenly moistened. +"I wish you did," she repeated. "Why don't you ever come in, when you +come for the milk? Come in now and have some supper with the boys?" + +But the girl started back, almost timidly. + +"Oh, I can't," she said, "I didn't think what I was saying. Gran' says +never to stay--to hurry back. She doesn't like to have me come for the +milk, but she can't come, herself." + +And, true to her instructions, she departed promptly, when she had +received the pitcher, well filled--almost double what the money she had +brought would usually buy. + +"She's a queer little sprite," was Mrs. Ellison's comment, as she +watched her go down the path; "but there's something fine and brave +about her. Who wouldn't be queer, living all alone with old Granny +Thornton?" + +The two weeks' farming that John Ellison had reckoned on was through +with in five days, thanks to the energy of the volunteer crew. They +enjoyed it, too; the work in the bright fields; the jolly meals at the +Ellison table; the nights in the big hay-barn, with blankets spread in +the mow; the evening's swim in the stream just before supper. + +And, on the sixth day, John and James Ellison went away on the wagon, +with clear consciences and light hearts, and with Mrs. Ellison waving a +farewell to them from the door of the shed. It was cramped quarters for +them all in the wagon, with the camping equipment, jolting along the +country roads; and they walked most of the hills. But the journey was a +jubilant one, and they welcomed the first gleaming of Whitecap pond with +whoops of delight. + +Whitecap pond seemed to return the welcome, too; for it twinkled all +over in the light of an afternoon sun, as they set up the two tents that +were to house them; and it sent in its light ripples dancing merrily +almost to the very door of the tents; a splash now and then in the still +waters told them of fishing delights to come. The white, fine sand of +its shores was soft as carpet to their feet, as they ran races along +the shore, and took a swim by moonlight before they turned in for the +night's rest. + +They liked the wildness of the loon's weird hullo, coming in at the open +flaps of the tents from afar; and the clumsy fluttering and flapping of +great beetles against the canvas, attracted by the lantern light that +shone through. The cawing of crows just above their heads awoke them +early next morning. + +They were out for perch and bass before the sun was high, and were in +luck, for the fish were plenty; and the perch chowder that Bob, who was +an old and experienced camper, made for the noon meal was a wonderful +achievement, and reminded them of old times in Samoset Bay. + +But there was one drawback--at least, for Henry Burns and Harvey, who +were hankering for the grip of a tiller and the thrill of a boat under +sail. There wasn't a sailboat to be hired on the pond. There were not +many, and they were all engaged. Coombs, who owned the slip and the +boats, said he hadn't done such a business in years. He could only let +them have two rowboats. Yet they came into the use of one, two days +later, through an adventure. + +It was early in the afternoon, and Henry Burns and Harvey and Little Tim +stood on the float at Coombs's landing, looking at a sailboat that lay +at its berth alongside. It was not exactly a handsome craft; with too +great length for its beam, and its lines drawn out so fine astern that +it bade fair to be somewhat cranky. It had no cabin, and there was +seating room for a large party--a design calculated more for profit than +safety. + +The boat was in evident poor condition, lacking paint, and its rigging +frayed, a not uncommon condition with boats to let in small waters of +this sort. Somewhat crude lettering on the stern spelled the name, +_Flyaway_. + +"Looks as though she might fly away with somebody, all right, if he +didn't look out," remarked Harvey, grinning at his companions. "Wish we +had her, though, for a week. We'd take a chance, eh, Henry?" + +Henry Burns nodded. "Let's see 'em start off in her," he said. + +They waited about, and presently there appeared on the landing the +present claimant of the _Flyaway_. He was a big, bluff, hearty man, +florid face, loud of voice, a free and easy manner, and he was dressed +for the occasion in yachting clothes of unmistakable newness. He eyed +the _Flyaway_ with an assumption of nautical wisdom and experience. + +"That's a good-looking boat, Captain Coombs," he said, in tones that +could be heard far away. "She's all right; just what I want. I like a +boat with plenty of room for the ladies to be comfortable." + +"Well, I reckon she's the best boat on Whitecap pond," responded the +man, while his small eyes twinkled shrewdly. "Just humour her a bit, and +I reckon she'll go where anything of her size will. She's seen some +rough times on this pond." + +The appearance of the _Flyaway_ seemed to bear out this statement. + +"Sure you can handle her all right, are you, Mr. Bangs?" added Captain +Coombs, eying his customer with a quick, sidelong glance. + +"Well, I reckon," was the bluff reply. + +Captain Coombs, possibly not all assured, gave an inquiring look toward +a man who was busy cleaning a rowboat close by, and who seemed to be an +interested party of some sort, probably a partner. The man drew his +right eye down in an unmistakable wink, and glanced up at the sky. Then +he nodded, shrugging his shoulders at the same time, as though he might +have said, "There's no wind; we'll take a chance." + +There was, indeed, scarcely a breath of wind blowing, and there was no +present prospect of any. + +Mr. Bangs's party began now to arrive: a somewhat fleshy, and withal +nervous and agitated lady, who proved to be Mrs. Bangs; two young girls, +an angular lady carrying a fat pug dog in her arms, and a small boy. + +"Aha, we're all here," cried Mr. Bangs, joyfully. "Let's get aboard and +be off. Splendid day for a sail, eh, Captain Coombs?" + +"Couldn't be better," replied Coombs, dryly. "Are those oars in her, +Dan?" + +"Why, you don't suppose I'm going to row her, do you?" laughed Mr. +Bangs. + +"We sometimes has to, when we doesn't want to," said Coombs +laconically. "No fun staying out all night if the wind dies out." + +"Oh, yes, of course," responded Mr. Bangs. "Get aboard, ladies." + +"I don't believe you know how to sail a boat, Augustus," said Mrs. +Bangs, eying her husband doubtfully. "Are you sure you do?" + +"Nonsense!" snorted Mr. Bangs. "Don't be getting nervous, now. Don't you +know I was elected commodore of the Green Pond Fishing Club only two +weeks ago?" + +Mr. Bangs refrained from communicating the fact that the principal +occupation of the members of the Green Pond Fishing Club was the mixing +of certain refreshing liquids in tall glasses, and sipping them on the +verandah of a clubhouse. + +The party therefore embarked. Mrs. Bangs was not wholly at ease, +however. + +"Supposing there isn't any wind by and by, Augustus, and you have to +row. Why don't you take somebody along, to help? We've got lots to eat." + +This idea, at least, seemed to strike Mr. Bangs favourably. He glanced +to where Henry Burns and his companions stood. + +"Hello," he called, "want to go out for a sail? Got room enough. Take +you along." + +The three boys stepped toward the boat. + +"Not scared of the water, are you?" queried Mr. Bangs. + +"Not unless it gets rough," replied Henry Burns, with a sly wink at +Harvey. + +The three jumped aboard, and Coombs, with something like a grin at his +partner, shoved the boat's head off. He had got the jib and mainsail up, +and they caught what little breeze there was stirring. The _Flyaway_ +drew away from the landing. To Bangs's embarrassment, however, the boom +suddenly swung inboard, swiped across the stern, causing him to duck +hastily, and almost knocking the bonnet off the lady with the pug dog. +Mr. Bangs had jibed the boat, greatly to his surprise. But no harm had +been done, as the wind was light. + +Mr. Bangs laughed loudly. "Meant to tell you that was coming," he said. +"She'll sail better this way. Ever been on the water before, boys?" + +Harvey nodded. "A little," he said. + +"Well, the more you are used to it, the better you'll like it," said Mr. +Bangs. "Don't mind if she tips a little, if we get any wind. She sails +that way. Funny that jib flutters so. Better haul in on that rope there +and--and trim it." + +Henry Burns, soberly following orders, did as requested. But it was +noticeable that the trimming did not seem to accomplish the result +desired by Mr. Bangs. In fact, as the _Flyaway_ was going dead before +the wind, it was quite apparent that no amount of trimming would make +the jib draw. + +"It keeps on fluttering just the same, Augustus," said Mrs. Bangs, eying +the offending sail suspiciously. "Hadn't you better tie it some way?" + +"Of course not," responded Mr. Bangs, loftily. "They will act that way +sometimes. Isn't that so, my lads?" + +"Oh yes," replied Henry Burns. "I've seen 'em do it, haven't you, Jack?" + +But Harvey was looking the other way. + +They went slowly up the pond, with Mr. Bangs holding the tiller and +watching the sail critically. He was in buoyant spirits, and entertained +them with stories of the thrilling adventures of the Green Pond Fishing +Club, in which he seemed to have figured prominently. + +The wind freshened a little and the _Flyaway_ drew ahead somewhat +faster. There was just the suspicion of a ripple along the sides, and it +was pleasant sailing. Two miles up the pond they dropped the sail and +anchored; got out the fish lines and tried for bass. After which, Mr. +Bangs, a generous host, opened up a huge hamper and spread out a +luncheon that made Little Tim's mouth water. + +"Nothing like sailing to give one an appetite," exclaimed Mr. Bangs, +heartily. "Pitch in, boys. There's plenty of grub. I believe in having +enough to eat, I do." + +He was so busily and pleasantly engaged in eating that he paid no heed +to the aspect of the sky. Nor, indeed, was there anything of very +serious import in its changes. But Henry Burns, alert as ever, saw +certain signs of wind in some light banks of cloud that began to gather +in the western sky, in the direction of Coombs's landing. + +"We won't have to row home," he said presently, addressing the skipper +of the _Flyaway_, who was absorbed in the enjoyment of a huge slice of +meat pie. + +"Eh, what's that?" he inquired. "What do you mean?" + +"We're going to have some wind," replied Henry Burns. + +"Well, that's what we want, for sailing," laughed Mr. Bangs. "You aren't +anxious to row, are you?" + +"Not particularly," replied Henry Burns. "We won't have to, anyway. It's +going to blow some. We'll take some spray in over the bows beating +back--" + +"What's that?" exclaimed Mrs. Bangs. "Augustus, do you hear? Let's start +right away. We don't want to get wet." + +"Ho!" sniffed Mr. Bangs. But just then a quick gust of wind swept over +them, such as comes without warning in pond waters, bordered by hills. +Mr. Bangs seemed to take the hint it conveyed. "Guess we'd better +start," he said. + +The boys sprang to the halyards; the sails were hoisted and the anchor +got aboard. With Mr. Bangs at the tiller, the _Flyaway_ started on the +beat of two miles down the pond. The wind continued to freshen, coming +now and then in flaws, as the light clouds overspread the sky. + +Henry Burns, noting the style of Mr. Bangs's yachtsmanship, and +observing the freshening of the wind, and the fact that the craft was +not being worked to windward anywhere near what it would go, slipped +astern beside Mr. Bangs. + +"Like to have me tend that sheet for you?" he asked, carelessly. + +Mr. Bangs waved him back. "Don't touch that, my lad," he cried. "You +might upset us in a minute. Never let a boy fool with a sheet--hello!" + +A sharper and heavier flaw caught the big mainsail with full force; and +then, as Mr. Bangs in his excitement threw the tiller over and headed +the yacht farther off the wind, instead of up into it, the _Flyaway_ +heeled dangerously, taking water over the side and causing the pug dog, +which got a drenching, to howl dolorously. Mrs. Bangs gave a slight +scream. + +"Oh, it's all right. Don't be alarmed," said Mr. Bangs, assuringly. He +failed to notice that prompt action on the part of Henry Burns, who had +started the sheet at the critical moment, had saved them from a spill; +and seemed to think that somehow he had righted things himself. However, +as he observed that youth calmly trimming the sail again, despite his +admonition to let the sheet alone, he seemed to have undergone a change +of heart. + +"That's right," he said, in a tone of not quite so much confidence, "you +just run that thing, while I do the steering." + +It began to get rough now, and the _Flyaway_ did not seem to justify +it's owner's praise. It threw the water heavily--partly by reason of its +clumsy build and partly because Mr. Bangs did not meet the waves with +the tiller. One might have observed, moreover, that Mr. Bangs wore an +anxious expression, and his hand shook slightly as he pressed the +tiller. + +A moment more, and he seemed almost dazed as the tiller was snatched +from his grasp by Henry Burns, who put the _Flyaway_ hard up into the +wind, just in time to meet a squall that threw the lee rail under again. +The craft stood still, almost, with the sail shivering. Then Henry Burns +eased her off gently, getting her under headway again. Mr. Bangs was +deathly pale. The spray had dashed aboard freely and drenched him. + +"We've got to reef, and be quick about it," said Henry Burns, addressing +the shivering skipper. "What do you say? It's your boat." + +"What's that--eh, do you think so?" stammered Mr. Bangs. "Reef her? Yes, +that'll stop her tipping, won't it? Oh my! can you do it?" + +His knees were wabbling, and he allowed himself to be pushed aside, +sinking down, pale and trembling on the seat. + +"Here, you take her, Jack," said Henry Burns. "Tim and I'll reef her. We +can do it quick." + +He relinquished the tiller to Harvey, who threw the boat up into the +wind, while Henry Burns and Tim seized the halyards and lowered the sail +sufficiently to take in a double reef. Henry Burns had the tack tied +down in a jiffy; whereupon Harvey drew the sail aft, hauled out on the +pendant and passed a lashing. Henry Burns and Little Tim had the reef +points tied in no time. Before Mr. Bangs's wondering eyes the sail was +hoisted, the topping lift set up, and the boat got under way again +before he had had hardly time to think what had happened. + +It was surprising to see how easily the craft went along under competent +management. The spray flew some and the water came aboard, wetting the +party to the skin and causing alarm; but there was little danger. The +_Flyaway_ no longer took the brunt of the waves, but headed into them a +little, keeping good headway on. What was better, she was making time, +going to windward and approaching the landing. + +Mr. Bangs gradually regained his colour, and took courage. + +"Guess you've sailed some before," he said, with a sickly smile. "You go +at it like old hands." + +"We've got a boat of our own," replied Harvey. "She's down in Samoset +bay. We got a big price for her for the summer, so we let her." + +Mr. Bangs looked a bit sheepish. + +"I'm glad you came along," he said; and added with a glance at Mrs. +Bangs, and in a lower tone, "I haven't sailed very much, to tell the +truth. We do--er--mostly rowing in the Green Pond Fishing Club." + +They came up to the landing in sailor fashion, and the party stepped +out. + +"Glad to see yer back," remarked Coombs. "Got just a bit worried about +you. You came in nicely, though." + +Mr. Bangs smiled good-naturedly. + +"Well," he said, "the fact is, I've got a crew. They are old sailors. +You ought to have seen them reef her quicker'n scat. They're going +along with me after this, for the rest of their stay--and their friends, +too. My wife says she's got enough sailing." + +"I should say I had," said Mrs. Bangs. + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + +THE FORTUNE-TELLER + + +Mr. Bangs proved to be a genial companion in the days that followed. +Nothing suited him better than to fill up the _Flyaway_ with the crew of +campers and go sailing on the pond. No longer seeking to support a +fallen dignity as skipper, he was pleased to receive instruction from +Henry Burns and Harvey, and even occasionally from Little Tim, in the +art of sailing. + +They showed him how to sail the craft nicely to windward, without the +sail shaking; how to run off the wind, with no danger of jibing her; how +to reef with safety, and how to watch the water for signs of squalls. +He, in turn, told them good stories of the Fishing Club; and, as he +really did know how to fish, he returned their instruction with lessons +in this art. + +It was certainly a pretty piece of sport, when Mr. Bangs would take his +light, split-bamboo fly-rod and send fifty feet of line, straightening +out its turns through the air, and dropping a tiny fly on the water as +easily as though it had fallen there in actual flight. Even Harvey, and +Tom and Bob, who had done some little fly fishing, found Mr. Bangs an +expert who could teach them more than they had ever dreamed, of its +possibilities. Little Tim, who had threshed brook waters with an alder +stick, using a ragged fly, was an apt pupil, when Mr. Bangs entrusted to +him his fine rod, and showed him how to make a real cast. + +"There, you're catching it, now," exclaimed Mr. Bangs to Tim, one +morning, as they floated on the still surface of the pond, about a half +mile above the camps. "Don't let your arm go too far back on that back +cast. Don't use your shoulder. You're not chopping wood. Just use the +wrist on the forward stroke, when you get the line moving forward." + +Tim, enthusiastic, tried again and again, striving to remember all +points at once, and now and then making a fair cast. + +It was only practice work; but, somehow or other, a big black bass +failed to understand that, and suddenly Tim's quick eye saw the water in +a whirl about his fly. He struck, and the fish was fast. + +"Well, by Jove!" exclaimed Mr. Bangs. "One never knows what's going to +happen when he's fishing. I didn't think they'd take the fly here at +this time of year. Let him have the line now, when he rushes. That's it. +Now hold him a little." + +The light fly-rod was bending nearly double. Intermittently, the reel +would sing as the fish made a dash for freedom and the line ran out. + +"Look out now; he's turned. Reel in," shouted Mr. Bangs, more excited +even than Little Tim. He wouldn't have had that fish get away for +anything. "Here he comes to the top," he continued. "Reel in on him. +Hold him. There, he's going to jump. Hold him. Don't let him shake the +hook out." + +The black bass, a strong active fish, made a leap out of water, shook +his jaws as though he would tear the hook loose, then shot downward +again. + +"Give him a little on the rod when he hits the water," cried Mr. Bangs. +"That's right. Keep him working now. Don't give him any slack." + +Little Tim, alternately reeling in and lifting on the road, and letting +the fish have the line in his angry-rushes, was playing him well. Mr. +Bangs applauded. Gradually the struggles of the big bass grew weaker. +His rushes, still sharp and fierce, were soon over. By and by he turned +on his side. + +"Careful now," cautioned Mr. Bangs. "Many a good bass is lost in the +landing. Draw him in easy." + +Little Tim followed instructions, and Mr. Bangs deftly slid the landing +net under the prize. He dipped the bass into the boat, took out a small +pair of pocket-scales and weighed him. + +"It's a five-pounder!" he exclaimed. "You've beat the record on Whitecap +this year. Well, fisherman's luck is a great thing. You're a born lucky +fisherman." + +"Now," he added, "we'll just row down to your camp and I'll cook a +chowder that'll make your eyes stick out, and have it all ready when the +boys return. Save them getting a breakfast." + +They went back along shore to the empty camp, deserted by the boys, who +were out for early morning fishing. + +"What do you say?" inquired Mr. Bangs, "Think they'll care if I go ahead +and cook up a chowder? Guess I can do it all right. Oh, I've seen 'em +made, a thousand times, up at the Fishing Club." + +"They'll be glad of it," said Little Tim. "Go ahead." + +Mr. Bangs, rummaging through the campers' stores, proceeded to construct +his chowder; while Tim busied himself about the camp, after building a +fire. + +Mr. Bangs, stirring the mess in a big iron kettle suspended above the +blaze, waved a welcome to the boys, as they came in. + +"Thought you'd like to have breakfast all ready," he cried. "The +_Flyaway's_ waiting for us all to get through." + +They thanked him warmly. + +"Oh, I'm having as much fun as you are out of it," he responded. "Get +your plates and I'll fill 'em up." + +He ladled out a heaping plate of the chowder for each, and they seated +themselves on two great logs. Henry Burns tasted his mess first, and +then he stopped, looked slyly at his comrades and didn't eat any more. +Harvey got a mouthful, and he gave an exclamation of surprise. Little +Tim swallowed some, and said "Oh, giminy!" Tom and Bob and the Ellison +brothers were each satisfied with one taste. They waited, expectantly, +for Mr. Bangs to get his. + +Mr. Bangs, helping himself liberally, started in hungrily. Then he +stopped and looked around. They were watching him, interestedly. Mr. +Bangs made a wry face and rinsed his mouth out with a big swallow of +water. + +"Well, I'll be hanged!" he exclaimed. "If it isn't sweet. Sweet chowder! +Oh dear, isn't it awful? What did it?" + +Henry Burns, looking about him, pointed to a tell-tale tin can which, +emptied of its contents, lay beside the fire. + +Mr. Bangs had made his chowder of condensed milk, sweet and sticky. + +"I say," he exclaimed, "just throw that stuff away and we'll go up to +the landing for breakfast. I thought milk was milk. I never thought +about it's being sweetened." + +They liked Mr. Bangs, in spite of his mistakes; and he wasn't abashed +for long, when he had pretended to be able to do something that he +didn't know how to do, and had been found out. He had a hearty way of +laughing about it, as though it were the best joke in all the world--and +there was one thing he could really do; he could cast a fly, and they +admired his skill in that. And when it came time for them to leave, and +bid him good-bye, they were heartily sorry to take leave of him, and +hoped they should meet him again. + +But Mr. Bangs was not to be gotten free from abruptly. There was +bottled soda and there were stale peanuts over at the landing, where +Coombs kept a small hotel a little way up from the shore; and Mr. Bangs +insisted that they should go over and have a treat at his expense. + +"You don't have to start till four o'clock," he urged. "You've got +plenty of time." And they needed no great amount of persuasion. + +"Funny old place Coombs keeps," he remarked, as they walked from the +camps over to the landing. "All sorts of queer people drop in there over +night. Last night, there were some show people in some of the rooms next +to mine--they're going to leave to-morrow, for the fair up at +Newbury--and they kept me awake half the night, with their racket. + +"They've got a fortune-teller among them, too," he continued. "Say, +she's a shrewd one. Of course, she's one of the fakers, but she's +downright smart--told me a lot of things about myself that were true. +Suppose she looked me over sharp. Say, I tell you what I'll do; I'll get +her to tell your fortunes. How'd you like to have your fortunes told? +I'll pay." + +As matter of fact, they were not so enthusiastic over it as was Mr. +Bangs; but they didn't like to say so, since he seemed to take it for +granted that they did. So, after they had had the soda and peanuts, Mr. +Bangs ushered them, one by one, into a room, where the fortune-teller +awaited them. + +Perhaps she flattered most of them over-much; perhaps she even hinted at +certain bright-eyed, yellow-haired young misses, whom some of them +might fancy, but were not of an age to admit it. At all events, as they +came forth, one by one, they made a great mystery of what she had said +to them. Little Tim didn't take kindly to the idea at all, in fact; and, +when it came his turn, Henry Burns and Harvey had to take him and shove +him into the room. + +He was inclined to be a bit abashed when he found himself in the +presence of a tall, dark, thin-faced woman, whose keen, black eyes +seemed to pierce him through and through. In fact, those shrewd, quick +eyes were about all anyone might need, to discover a good deal about +Little Tim, whose small but wiry figure, tanned face, bare feet and +dress indicated much of his condition in life. + +"Come over here and sit down," said the woman, as Tim stood, eying her +somewhat doubtfully. The boy complied. + +"So you want your fortune told, do you?" she asked. + +"I dunno as I care much about it," answered Tim, bluntly. + +The woman smiled a little. "No?" she said. "Let's see your hand." + +Tim extended a grimy fist across the table, the lines of which were so +obscured with the soil of Coombs's landing that it might have puzzled +more than a wizard to read them. But the woman, her keen eyes twinkling, +remarked quickly, "That's a fisherman's hand. You're the best fisherman +on the pond." + +Tim began to take more interest. "I've caught the biggest bass of the +year," he said. + +"That's it; what did I tell you?" exclaimed the woman. "I think you're +going to have a lot of money left to you some day," she added, noting at +a glance Tim's poor attire. Little Tim grinned. + +"You have some courage, too," continued the woman, who had not failed to +observe the boy's features and the glance of his eye. But at this moment +Little Tim gave an exclamation of surprise. Surveying the room he had +espied the lettering on a partly unrolled banner in one corner, where +the words, "Lorelei, the Sorceress," were inscribed. + +"Why, I've seen you before," he said. "That is, I haven't seen you, +either; but I've seen your picture on that canvas--and you don't look +like that at all." + +The woman laughed heartily. "You're sure you don't think it looks like +me?" she added, and laughed harder than ever. "Well, I should hope not," +she said; "but I fix up like that some, for the show. Where'd you see +me?" + +"Why, it was down at Benton," answered Tim. "You were with the circus." + +Then, as the full remembrance of the occasion came to him, Tim became of +a sudden excited. "Say," he asked, "what did Old Witham want?" + +The woman looked at him in surprise. + +"Old Witham," she repeated, "I don't know who you mean. I don't know any +Old Witham." + +"Oh, yes you do," urged Tim; and he described the unmistakable figure +and appearance of the corpulent colonel, together with the time and +night of his visit. The woman's eyes lit with amusement. She remembered +how the colonel had parted with his money painfully. + +"Oh, he didn't want much," she said. "Somebody had hidden some papers in +a factory or mill of some sort--that's what I thought, anyway--and he +wanted me to tell him where they were." + +"Oh," replied Tim, in a tone of disappointment. "Is that all?" He had +really fancied the colonel might have a love affair, and that it would +be great fun to reveal it to the boys. + +"Why, what business is it of yours, what he wanted?" inquired the woman. + +"It ain't any," answered Tim. "Guess I'll go now;" and he made his +escape through the door. + +"Oh, she didn't tell me anything," said Little Tim, as the boys +surrounded him a moment later. "Said I could catch fish, though. How do +you suppose she knew that?" + +Mr. Bangs seemed much amused. "She's a real witch," he exclaimed. "Well, +good-bye, boys. Come again next year." + +They said good-bye and started off. + +"Say, Jack," said Little Tim, as they walked along together, "that's the +fortune-teller that was down to Benton with the circus. Remember I told +you we caught Witham coming out of the tent? Well, I asked her what he +was there for, and it wasn't anything at all. He was only hunting for +some papers that somebody had hidden--" + +"What's that--tell me about that?" + +Henry Burns, who had been walking close by, but who had been not greatly +interested up to this point, had suddenly interrupted. "What did Witham +want?" he repeated. + +Little Tim repeated the fortune-teller's words. + +Henry Burns, hurrying ahead to where the others were walking, caught +John Ellison by an arm and drew him away. "Come back here a minute," he +said. "Here, Tim, tell John what the fortune-teller said about Witham." + +John Ellison, listening to Tim Reardon, grew pale and clenched his fist. + +"That's it," he cried. "There _are_ some other papers, don't you +suppose? Lawyer Estes said there might be; but they couldn't find them, +though they hunted through the mill. I just know there are some. Witham +knew it, too. That's what he was after. Tim, you've found out something +big, I tell you. We've just got to get into that mill again and go +through it. Don't you say a word to anybody, Tim." + +Tim's eyes opened wide with astonishment--but he promised. + +All through the work of striking and packing the two tents, and stowing +the stuff into the wagon, Henry Burns and John Ellison discussed this +new discovery; what it might mean and what use could be made of it. And +all the way home, on the long, dusty road, they talked it over. They +were late getting started, and it was eight o'clock when they turned in +at the Ellison farm. + +The mill had ceased grinding for two hours, and night had settled down. +But, as they got out of the wagon, John Ellison called to Henry Burns +and pointed over the hill toward the mill. + +"Do you see?" he said softly, but in excited tones. "Do you see? That's +what I see night after night, sometimes as late as nine o'clock." + +There was somebody in the old mill, evidently, for the light as from a +lantern was discernible now and again through one of the old, cobwebbed +windows; a light that flickered fitfully first from one floor, then from +another. + +"It's Witham," said John Ellison. "He's always in the mill now, early +and late. I'll bet he's hunted through it a hundred times since he's had +it. It gets on his mind, I guess; for I've seen him come back down the +road many a night, after the day's work was over, and he'd had supper, +and go through the rooms with the lantern." + +"Well," said Henry Burns, quietly, "we'll go through them, too. We'll do +it, some way." + + + + +CHAPTER XV + +A HUNT THROUGH THE MILL + + +"Say, Henry, guess what I'm going to do," said John Ellison, as he met +Henry Burns in the road leading from Benton, a few days following the +return from camp. + +Henry Burns, leaning on the paddle he was carrying, looked at his friend +for a moment and then answered, with surprising assurance, "You're going +to work for Witham." + +John Ellison stared at his friend in amazement. + +"You ought to be a fortune-teller," he exclaimed. "You can't have heard +about it, because I haven't told anybody--not even the folks at home. +How'd you know?" + +"I didn't," replied Henry Burns, smiling at the other's evident +surprise. "I only guessed. I knew by the way you looked that it was +something unusual; and I know what you're thinking of all the time; it's +about those papers. So I've been thinking what I'd do, if I wanted a +chance to look for them, and I said to myself that I'd try to go to work +in the mill, and keep my eyes open." + +"Well, you've hit it," responded John Ellison. "I know he needs a man, +and I'm big enough to do the work. Say, come on in with me to-morrow, +will you? I hate to go ask Old Witham for work. You don't mind. Come in +and see what he says." + +"I'll do it," replied Henry Burns. "I'll meet you at the foot of the +hill to-morrow forenoon at ten o'clock. Perhaps he'll hire me, too." + +"You! you don't have to work," exclaimed John Ellison. + +"No, but I will, if he'll take me," said Henry Burns. "I'll stay until I +get one good chance to go through the mill, and then I'll leave." + +"You're a brick," said John Ellison. "I'm going to tell mother about the +scheme now. She won't like it, either. She'd feel bad to have me go to +work there for somebody else, when we ought to be running it ourselves. +Where are you going--canoeing?" + +"Yes; come along?" replied Henry Burns. But John Ellison was too full of +his plan to admit of sport, and they separated, with the agreement to +meet on the following day. + +John Ellison was correct in his surmise that Mrs. Ellison would oppose +his intention to work for Colonel Witham. Indeed, Mrs. Ellison wouldn't +hear of it at all, at first. It seemed to her a disgrace, almost, to ask +favour at the hands of one who, she firmly believed, had somehow tricked +them out of their own. But John Ellison was firm. + +It would be only for a little time, at most; only that he might, at +opportune moments, look about in hope of making some discovery. + +"But what can it possibly accomplish?" urged Mrs. Ellison. "Lawyer Estes +has had the mill searched a dozen times, and there has been nothing +found. How can you expect to find anything? Colonel Witham wouldn't give +you the chance, anyway. He's always around the mill now, and he's been +over it a hundred times, himself, I dare say. Remember how we've seen +his light there night after night?" + +But John Ellison was not to be convinced nor thwarted. "I want to hunt +for myself," he insisted. "You kept it from me, before, when the lawyers +had the searches made." + +"I know it," sighed Mrs. Ellison. "I hated to tell you that we were in +danger of losing the mill." + +"Well, I'm going," declared John Ellison, and Mrs. Ellison gave +reluctant consent. + +Still, she might have saved herself the trouble of objecting, and let +Colonel Witham settle the matter--which he did, summarily. + +It was warm, and miller Witham, uncomfortable at all times in summer +sultriness, was doubly so in the hot, dusty atmosphere of the mill. The +dust from the meal settled on his perspiring face and distressed him; +the dull grinding of the huge stones and the whirr of the shaftings and +drums somehow did not sound in his ears so agreeably as he had once +fancied they would. There was something oppressive about the place--or +something in the air that caused him an unexplainable uneasiness--and he +stood in the doorway, looking unhappy and out of sorts. + +He saw two boys come briskly down the road from the Ellison farm and +turn up the main road in the direction of the mill. As they approached, +he recognized them, and retired within the doorway. To his surprise, +they entered. + +"Well, what is it?" he demanded shortly as John Ellison and Henry Burns +stood confronting him. "What do you want? I won't have boys around the +mill, you know. Always in the way, and I'm busy here." + +"Why, you see," replied John Ellison, turning colour a bit but speaking +firmly, "we don't want to bother you nor get in the way; but I--I want +to get some work to do. I'm big enough and strong enough to work, now, +and I heard you wanted a man. I came to see if you wouldn't hire me." + +Colonel Witham's face was a study. Taken all by surprise, he seemed to +know scarcely what to say. He shifted uneasily and the drops of +perspiration rolled from his forehead. He mopped his face with a big, +red handkerchief, and looked shiftily from one boyish face to the other. + +"Why, I did say I wanted help," he admitted; "but,"--and he glanced at +the youth who had spoken,--"I didn't say I wanted a boy. No, you won't +do." + +"Why, I'm big enough to do the haying," urged John Ellison. "You've got +the mill now. You might give me a job, I think." + +Possibly some thought of this kind might have found fleeting lodgment in +the colonel's brain; of Jim Ellison, who used to sit at the desk in the +corner; of the son that now asked him for work. Then a crafty, +suspicious light came into his eyes, and he glanced quickly at John +Ellison's companion. + +"What do you want here, Henry Burns?" he demanded. "I had you in my +hotel at Samoset Bay once, and you brought me bad luck. You get out. I +don't want you around here. Get out, I say." + +He moved threateningly toward Henry Burns, and the boy, seeing it was +useless to try to remain, stepped outside. + +"No, I don't want you, either," said Colonel Witham, turning abruptly +now to John Ellison. "No boys around this mill. I don't care if your +father did own it. You can't work here. I've no place for you." + +Despite his blustering and almost threatening manner, however, Colonel +Witham did not offer to thrust John Ellison from the mill. He seemed on +the point of doing it, but something stopped him. He couldn't have told +what. But he merely repeated his refusal, and turned away. + +It was only boyish impulse on John Ellison's part, and an innocent +purchaser of the mill would have laughed at him; but he stepped nearer +to Colonel Witham and said, earnestly, "You'll have to let me in here +some day, Colonel Witham. The mill isn't yours, and you know it." And he +added, quickly, as the thought occurred to him, "Perhaps the +fortune-teller you saw at the circus will tell me more than she told +you. Perhaps she'll tell me where the papers are." + +For a moment Colonel Witham's heavy face turned deathly pale, and he +leaned for support against one of the beams of the mill. Then the colour +came back into his face with a rush, and he stamped angrily on the +floor. + +"Confound you!" he cried. "You clear out, too. I don't know anything +about your fortune-tellers, and I don't care. I've got no time to fool +away with boys. Now get out." + +John Ellison walked slowly to the door, leaving the colonel mopping his +face and turning alternately white and red; and as he stepped outside +Colonel Witham dropped into a chair. + +Then, as the boys went on together up the hill to the Ellison farm, +Colonel Witham, recovering in a measure from the shock he had received, +arose from his chair, somewhat unsteady on his legs, and began, for the +hundredth and more time, a weary, fruitless search of the old mill, from +the garret to the very surface of the water flowing under it. + +And as Colonel Witham groped here and there, in dusty corners, he +muttered, "What on earth did he mean? The fortune-teller--how could he +know of that? There's witchcraft at work somewhere. But there aren't any +papers in this mill. I know it. I know it. I know it." + +And still he kept up his search until it was long past the time for +shutting down. + +Three days after this, Lawyer Estes was talking to John Ellison at the +farmhouse. + +"Well, I've run down your witch," he said, smiling; "and there isn't +anything to be made out of her. I've been clear to the fair-grounds at +Newbury to see her. She's a shrewd one; didn't take her long to see that +something was up. Sized me up for a lawyer, I guess, and shut up tighter +than a clam. I told her what I knew, but she swore Tim Reardon was +mistaken. + +"Those people have a fear of getting mixed up with the courts; naturally +suspicious, I suppose. She declared she had said that the man she talked +with asked about some letters he had lost, himself; and that was all she +knew about it. No use in my talking, either. I didn't get anything more +out of her. We're right where we were before." + +"Well, I'm going to get into that mill and look around, just the same," +exclaimed John Ellison. "I'll do it some way." + +"Then you'll be committing trespass," said Lawyer Estes, cautiously. + +"I don't care," insisted the boy. "I won't be doing any harm. I'm not +going to touch anything that isn't ours. But I'm going to look." + +"Then don't tell me about it," said the lawyer. "I couldn't be a party +to a proceeding like that." + +"No, but I know who will," said John Ellison. "It's Henry Burns. He +won't be afraid of looking through an old mill at night--and he'll know +a way to do it, too." + +John Ellison tramped into town, that afternoon, and hunted up his +friend. + +"Why, of course," responded Henry Burns; "it's easy. Jack and I'll go +with you. It won't do any harm, just to walk through a mill." And he +added, laughing, "You know we've been in there once before. Remember the +night we told you of?" + +John Ellison looked serious. + +"Yes," he replied, "and there was something queer about that, too, +wasn't there? You said father went through the mill, upstairs and down, +just the same as Witham does often now." + +"He did, sure enough," said Henry Burns, thoughtfully. "I wish I'd known +what trouble was coming some day; I'd have tried to follow him. Well, +we'll go through all right--but what about Witham?" + +"That's just what I've been thinking," said John Ellison. + +"Well," replied Henry Burns, after some moments' reflection, "leave it +to me. I'll fix that part of it. And supposing the worst should happen +and he catch us all in there, what could he do? We'll get Jack and Tom +and Bob--yes, and Tim, too; he's got sharp eyes. Witham can't lick us +all. If he catches us, we'll just have to get out. He wouldn't make any +trouble; he knows what people think about him and the mill." + +So John Ellison left it to Henry Burns; and the latter set about his +plans in his own peculiar and individual way. The scheme had only to be +mentioned to Jack and the others, to meet with their approval. They were +ready for anything that Henry Burns might suggest. The idea that a night +search, of premises which had already been hunted over scores of times +by daylight, did not offer much hope of success, had little weight with +them. If Henry Burns led, they would follow. + +The night finally selected by Henry Burns and John Ellison would have +made a gloomy companion picture to the one when Harvey and Henry Burns +first made their entry into the mill, under the guidance of Bess +Thornton, except that it did not rain. Henry Burns and John Ellison had +noted the favourable signs of the weather all afternoon; how the heavy +clouds were gathering; how the gusts whipped the dust into little +whirlwinds and blew flaws upon the surface of the stream; how the waning +daylight went dim earlier than usual; and they had voted it favourable +for the enterprise. + +Wherefore, there appeared on the surface of Mill stream, not long after +sundown, two canoes that held, respectively, Henry Burns and Harvey and +Tim Reardon, and Tom Harris and Bob White. These two canoes, not racing +now, but going along side by side in friendly manner, sped quietly and +swiftly upstream in the direction of the Ellison dam. Then, arriving +within sight of it, they waited on the water silently for a time, until +two figures crept along the shore and hailed them. These were John and +James Ellison. + +"It's all right," said John Ellison, in answer to an inquiry; "Witham's +at home, and the place is deserted. And who do you suppose is on watch +up near the Half Way House, to let us know if Witham comes out? Bess +Thornton. I let her in on the secret, because I knew she'd help. She +knows what Old Witham is." + +"Have you got it?" inquired Henry Burns, mysteriously. + +"Sure," responded John Ellison. "It's up close by the mill. Come on." + +They paddled up close to the white foam that ran from the foot of the +dam, where the falling water of the stream struck the basin below, and +turned the canoes inshore. There, up the bank, John Ellison produced the +mysterious object of Henry Burns's inquiry. It proved to be an old +wash-boiler. + +Harvey and the others eyed it with astonishment. + +"What are you going to do with that old thing?" asked Harvey. "This +isn't Fourth of July." + +"That's my fiddle," replied Henry Burns, coolly. "I've got the string in +my pocket." + +With which reply, he took hold of one handle of the wash-boiler and John +Ellison the other; and they proceeded up the bank. The others followed, +grinning. + +"Play us a tune," suggested young Tim. + +"Not unless I have to," replied Henry Burns. "You may hear it, and +perhaps you won't." + +All was desolate and deserted, as they made a circuit of the +surroundings of the mill. It certainly offered no attractions to +visitors, after nightfall. The crazy old structure, unpainted and +blackened with age, made a dark, dismal picture against the dull sky. +The water fell with a monotonous roar over the dam; the cold dripping of +water sounded within the shell of the mill. The wind, by fits and +starts, rattled loose boards and set stray shingles tattooing here and +there. Dust blew down from the roadway. + +"He'll not be out to-night," remarked Harvey, as they looked up the road +in the direction of the Half Way House. + +"You can't tell," replied John Ellison. "We've seen the light in here +some nights that were as bad as this. What say, shall we go in?" + +They followed his lead, around by the way Henry Burns and Harvey had +once before entered, and, one by one, went in through the window. Then +they paused, huddled on a plank, while John Ellison scratched a match +and lighted a sputtering lantern, the wick of which had become dampened. +Across the planking they picked their way, and entered the main room on +the first floor. + +Then Henry Burns and John Ellison made another trip and brought in Henry +Burns's "fiddle," greatly to the amusement of the others. + +"That goes on the top floor," said Henry Burns, and they ascended the +two flights of stairs with it, depositing it upside down, in a corner of +the garret that was boarded up as a separate room, or large closet. Then +Henry Burns, producing from his pocket a piece of closely woven cotton +rope, skilfully tossed one end over a beam above his head; seized the +end as it fell, quickly tied a running knot and hauled it snug. The +rope, made fast thus at one end to the beam, drew taut as he pulled down +on it. + +"That's the fiddle-string, eh Jack?" laughed Henry Burns. "We've made a +horse-fiddle before now, haven't we? that rope's got so much resin on it +that it squeaks if you just look at it." + +He passed the free end of the resined rope through a hole in the bottom +of the upturned wash-boiler, and knotted it so it would not pull out +again. + +"Now where's the fiddle-bow, John?" he asked. + +John Ellison forthwith produced a long bent bow of alder, strung with +pieces of tied horse-hair. + +"Listen," said Henry Burns; and he drew the bow gently across the +resined rope. The sound that issued forth--the combined agony of the +vibrating wash-boiler and the shrill squeak of the rope--was one hardly +to be described. It was like a wail of some unworldly creature, ending +with a shuddering twang that grated even on the nerves of Henry Burns's +companions. Then Henry Burns laid the bow aside and was ready for the +search. + +"That sounds nice on Fourth of July night," he remarked, "but not in +here. Let's see what we can find, John." + +They lighted two more lanterns that they had brought and began their +search. Strangely enough, however, the possibilities that had seemed so +real to John Ellison, as he had gazed day by day upon the old mill he +knew so well, seemed to vanish now that he was within. He had thought +of a hundred and one odd corners where he would search; but now they +offered obviously so little chance of secreting anything that he felt +his hopes begin to wane. + +Still, they went at it earnestly and thoroughly. Through the garret, +with their lanterns lighted, they hunted; lifting aside boxes and +barrels; opening dingy closets; peering into long unused bins. Hoppers +that had been once a part of the mill's equipment, but which had been +displaced by others, were carefully examined; even the rafters overhead +were scrutinized, lest some overlooked box might be found hidden +thereon. + +They went to the floor below, where the great grinding stones were; and +where a tangle of belting and shaftings half filled one room. There were +hiding places a-plenty here; but not one of them yielded anything. Then, +on the main floor, where there was a great safe hidden in one corner, +and the desk. Here they were on forbidden ground. The property was +clearly Witham's, and they would not touch that. They could only search +about the nooks and corners, and sound the boards for secret +hiding-places. + +So on, up and down, in and out; even through the outer room of the mill, +where all was rough and unfinished, and only a plank thrown across here +and there to walk on. There were places enough where a box or package +might be hidden--but where nothing was. + +Yet they continued industriously, and were so absorbed in their search +that they failed to notice that Little Tim had vanished, until Harvey +called to him for something, and he was nowhere to be found. + +They were half frightened for a moment, fearing lest he had slipped and +fallen somewhere; but Harvey laughed at their fears. + +"You can't hurt that little monkey," he said. "He can swim like a fish, +and he's a regular cat on climbing. No, he's up to some trick or other." + +They were aware of this presently--and just a bit startled--at the sound +of a low whistle coming from the outer mill; then Tim Reardon darted in +from the darkness, into the circle of lanterns. + +"He's coming!" he gasped. "I just met Bess Thornton up the road. Cracky, +how I did run! Look out the window; you'll see his lantern. Better turn +ours down, quick." + +They lost no time in following this advice; then crept to the window +that looked on the road and peered out. The swinging and swaying of a +lantern could be seen, indistinctly in the distance. Colonel Witham was +coming. The boys sped quickly up two flights of stairs into the garret. + +What should bring Colonel Witham, night after night, to the old mill, +where he had hunted long and fruitlessly? He, himself, could hardly have +told. Possibly he felt somehow a sense as of security; that, so long as +he was there, there could be nobody else on hand, to search; that he was +guarding his property--against, he knew not what. And, if ever the +thought came to him, that perhaps it had been better for his peace of +mind never to have come into possession of the old mill at all, why, he +did not allow his mind to dwell upon it. That usually set him to +hunting. + +Now the door opened, and Colonel Witham stepped within the mill. And for +all his being there voluntarily, one might have seen by the pallor of +his face that he was half afraid. There, in the shadow, just beyond the +rim of his own lantern light, was the desk where Jim Ellison used to +sit--and sneer at him. Did Colonel Witham recall that? Perhaps. He +lifted the lantern and let the light fall on the spot. The place was +certainly empty. + +For all the relief of that, Colonel Witham uttered a cry very much like +a frightened man, the next moment. Then he was angry, as he felt the +goose-flesh prickling all over him. The sharp night wind had slammed the +little door leading to the outer mill, with a bang, and the noise had +echoed through all the rooms. + +There was nothing in that to be afraid of, and Colonel Witham seated +himself in a chair by the desk, with the lantern beside him on the +floor. Now that he was here, he scarce knew why he had come. + +What was that? Was that a foot-fall on some floor above? Colonel Witham +sat bolt upright in his seat and listened. He took out his handkerchief +and mopped his brow. Then he was angry with himself again. He was +certainly nervous to-night. + +Nervous indeed; for he came out of his chair with a bound, as the wind +suddenly swooped down on the old mill, shrieked past one corner, with a +cry that was almost like a voice, and went on up the stream, crackling +the dead branches of trees and moaning through the pines. + +Colonel Witham started for the door. It was no use; nature was against +him--conspiring to fill him with alarm. He was foolish to have come. He +would go back to the inn. + +But then his natural stubbornness asserted itself. Should a wild night +drive him out of his own mill--when the law couldn't? He turned +resolutely and went slowly back. Nor did he pause on the main floor, but +started up the first flight of stairs. + +Another shriek of the wind, that rattled the loose window panes on the +floor above, as though by a hundred unseen hands. The colonel crouched +down on the stairs for a moment--and then, oh, what a hideous sound was +that! + +Somewhere, from the vague spaces of the upper part of the mill, there +was wafted down to him such a noise as he had never heard; it squeaked +and it thrummed; it moaned deep, and it wailed with an unearthly, +piercing sound. There was the sorrow and the agony of a thousand voices +in it. It blended now with the wind, and added to the cry of that; again +it rose above the wind, and pierced the colonel's very soul. + +Colonel Witham, clutching his lantern with desperation, fairly slid down +the stairs, his legs wabbling weakly as he tried to stay himself. He +landed in a heap at the foot. Then, rising with a mighty effort, he fled +from the mill, up the road to the Half Way House. + +Some moments later, seven boys, shaking with laughter, emerged from the +garret room and resumed their search. + +Colonel Witham had heard the strains of Henry Burns's horse-fiddle. + + + + +CHAPTER XVI + +THE GOLDEN COIN LOST AGAIN + + +"Let's look, Tim! Let me see. Say, where'd you find it? Bring it here to +the light." + +The crowd of boys, much excited, was jostling Little Tim, plying him +with more questions than he could answer, and each one trying to grasp +at something that he held in his hand. + +Proceeding into the main room of the mill, Tim held his prize close to +the light of three lanterns. It was a small box, tied with cords, and +contained apparently something like coin, by the clinking sound that +came from within. + +"I found it out in the mill, where the water comes in and where the big +wheels are," said Tim, breathlessly. "Sounds as though there was money +in it, don't it? It was just where one of the shafts goes through part +of a beam. The beam is cut away there, and room enough left for this, +right under the shafting. Nobody'd ever think of going near it when the +mill was running; but I climbed up there and took hold of the shaft, and +I spied it." + +He was tearing off the cords as he spoke; and now, as he opened the +cover, sure enough, there was disclosed a handful or two of small coin: +some quarters and dimes and pennies--but nothing of great value. These +were intermingled with some papers, folded small. + +John Ellison snatched at these and quickly unfolded them. But they read +disappointment for him. They were nothing more than a lot of receipted +bills, for supplies brought to the miller. Then they counted the coin. +There was a dollar and eighty odd cents in cash. + +Tim Reardon was elated enough, and evidently thought the discovery +justified any amount of laborious searching; but the faces of John +Ellison and Henry Burns were eloquent of disappointment. + +"Too bad, John," remarked Henry Burns, putting his hand on the other's +shoulder. "I thought we'd struck it at last. Want to hunt any more?" + +John Ellison shook his head. "I've got enough," he said. "I give it up. +We've looked everywhere I can think of." + +"And who gets the money?" inquired Tim, eagerly. + +"I don't know," replied John Ellison, "and I don't care much. But I +don't know as we've got any right to it--though these bills aren't +Witham's, and I suppose the money isn't. The mill is his now, and I +guess we haven't any right to come in here and take this." + +"Well," suggested Henry Burns, "why not ask Witham about it?" + +"Ask Witham!" exclaimed John Ellison. "I won't. I don't want ever to +speak to him again. You can, though, if you want to." + +"All right," said Henry Burns. "I'll ask him. And I'll get the money for +you." + +"I don't want it," exclaimed John Ellison, whose disappointment was +evident in his tone of bitterness. "Give it to Tim--if you get it." + +"All right," said Henry Burns. + +Tim's eyes twinkled. + +It was evening of the following day, and Colonel Witham sat on the porch +of the Half Way House, smoking his pipe. It had been a puzzling day for +him, and he was thinking it over. Going through the mill, along in the +afternoon, he had come upon an extraordinary looking object in the +garret--an old wash-boiler, inverted, with a resined cord running from +the bottom of it up to a beam. And near by lay a sort of bow, strung +with horse-hair. + +What on earth could that be, and how had it come there? Colonel Witham, +at first, had thought it might be some sort of an infernal machine, put +there to destroy the mill. But he had investigated, cautiously, and +demonstrated its harmlessness. And about the floor were a few half +burned matches. Somebody had been in the mill. A faint perception began +to dawn upon him, as the day passed, that it might have been the boys; +but he couldn't wholly figure it out, and it bothered him not a little. + +He thought of notifying the police--but he didn't want them hunting +about the mill--or anybody else. The best thing, he decided, was to keep +quiet, and watch out sharper than ever. + +He was not in a friendly mood, therefore, when, gazing down the road, he +espied Henry Burns approaching on a bicycle, followed closely by Jack +Harvey and Tim Reardon. Moreover, his suspicions were aroused. He was +somewhat surprised, however, when the boys dismounted at a little +distance, leaned their wheels against some bushes and approached the +porch. + +Greater still was the colonel's surprise--indeed, he was fairly taken +aback--when Henry Burns, having bade him good-evening, broached his +subject abruptly, without any preliminaries. + +"Colonel Witham," said Henry Burns, coolly, "we were up in the mill last +night." + +The colonel's eyes stuck out, and he glared at Henry Burns with mingled +astonishment and wrath. + +"Eh, what's that?" he exclaimed, "you were in my mill! Why, you young +rascals, don't you know I could have you all arrested as burglars?" + +"No," replied Henry Burns, "we didn't go to take anything of yours. We +were after some papers that belonged to John Ellison's father. We +weren't going to keep them either, if we found them; just turn them over +to Lawyer Estes." + +"Well, then, it was trespass," cried Colonel Witham, wrathfully. "Who +told you there were papers in the mill. Lawyer Estes didn't--he knows +better." + +"No," replied Henry Burns, "but you told the fortune-teller so." + +"I didn't say that," bellowed Colonel Witham, rising from his chair. But +it was plain the suggestion of the fortune-teller worried him. "What did +you do in there?" he added. "If you did any harm, you'll suffer for it." + +"We didn't," said Henry Burns. "We only played on a horse-fiddle once or +twice. You know there are rats in the mill, colonel. I guess they +scampered when they heard that." + +Colonel Witham had been about to burst forth with an angry exclamation; +but the thought of his own ignominious flight made him pause. Rats, +indeed! He knew there wasn't a rat in the whole mill that had been half +so terrified as he. + +"Now see here," he said, shaking his fist for emphasis, "I know you +didn't do any harm in the mill. It was one of your crazy pranks. But +don't you ever go in there again, or I'll make trouble for you." + +"We're not going to," said Henry Burns. + +"There isn't anything in there, anyway," urged Colonel Witham. "I've +heard that talk, around Benton, and it's all nonsense. You couldn't find +anything in there, if you hunted a hundred years." + +"But we did find something," said Henry Burns, in a matter-of-fact way. + +Colonel Witham's jaw dropped, and he looked at Henry Burns almost +helplessly. He couldn't speak for a moment. Then he asked, huskily, +"What was it you found? None of your pranks now; what did you find?" + +"A small box, with some coins in it," replied Henry Burns; and he +described the hiding place. "There was a dollar and eighty-six cents." + +Colonel Witham looked relieved. "Give them to me," he cried. "You've got +no right to the stuff." + +"Wasn't it Ellison's?" inquired Henry Burns. + +"Never you mind whose it was," cried Colonel Witham. "It was in my mill. +Give it to me, or I'll have the law on you." + +"There were some papers, too," continued Henry Burns. + +Colonel Witham staggered again. The hand that held his pipe shook. Then +his eyes twinkled craftily. + +"Well, you're right smart boys," he said. "Keep the money, if you want +it, or give it to John Ellison. Yes, it was Jim Ellison's--the money +was. But the papers are mine. Have you got them? Give me the papers, and +keep the money. I don't claim the money." + +"Yes, I've got the papers," replied Henry Burns. "Here they are. There's +all there were." + +He handed the package to Colonel Witham, who took it with trembling +hand. Then Henry Burns and his friends made a hurried departure. By the +time the colonel had made an examination of the papers, and had turned, +white with anger, to vent his rage upon them, they were spinning down +the road. + +"Tim," said Henry Burns, as they rode along, "you get the money." + +It was a day or two later, on a sultry afternoon, and Bess Thornton +stood in the doorway of the old house where she and Granny Thornton +lived, looking forth at the sky. A passing shower was sprinkling the +doorsteps with a few big drops, and the girl drew back with a look of +disappointment on her face. + +"It always rains when you don't want it to," she said. "Wish there was +somebody to play with. It's pokey here, with gran' gone to Witham's. I +don't know what to do." + +Something suggested itself to her mind, however, for presently she +opened the door leading to the attic and went up the stairs. It was dark +and silent in the attic, but she threw open a window at either end, +unfastened the blinds, and the daylight entered. It disclosed a clutter +of old household stuff: some strings of pop-corn and dried apples and +herbs hanging from the rafters, and a lot of faded garments, suspended +from nails. + +She tried on an old-fashioned poke-bonnet, looked at herself in a bit of +cracked mirror that leaned against a wash-stand, and laughed at the odd +picture she made. Then, by turns, she arrayed herself in some of the +antiquated garments. She rummaged here and there, until she came to the +old bureau. + +"Gran' always keeps that locked," she said. "I guess nobody'd want to +steal anything from this old place, though. She needn't be so +particular. I wonder where she keeps the key." + +There was no great difficulty in finding that, either, once she had set +about it; for soon her hand rested on the key, as she felt along the +tops of the beams, and came to the one where Granny Thornton had laid +it. + +"I'm going to have a look," said the girl softly to herself. "Gran's +always telling me to keep out of here." Then, as the thought struck her, +she exclaimed, "I'll bet here's where she put the coin." + +The lock of the upper drawer of the bureau yielded readily to the +pressure of the key; she drew the drawer out, and looked within. There +was a mixture of curious odds and ends, from which she picked up a tiny +white dress. + +"That's funny," she exclaimed. "It's a baby's dress. I wonder what gran' +keeps it for; perhaps 'twas mine. It's small, though. Wonder if I was +ever as little as that." + +She took the tiny garment by the sleeves, and held it up against +herself. Then she laughed merrily. "I wish I could ask gran' about it," +she said. + +A small box attracted her eye and she seized that. She got a surprise +then. She had thought that perhaps it might contain the coin. But it +contained that and more. There, indeed, was the golden coin; but, +strangely enough, it was not as she and Tim Reardon had found it, but +affixed to a small golden chain. + +"Oh!" she exclaimed; "Gran' was right, then. It did belong to us, after +all. My, it's pretty, too. Gran' ought to let me wear it." + +She tried to hang it about her neck, but the chain was too short. She +remedied that, however, by piecing it out with two bits of ribbon which +she found in the drawer. These she knotted in a bow at the back of her +neck, and danced over to the mirror, to note the effect of the chain +with its ornament. It was a rare piece of finery in her eyes, and she +gazed upon it long and wistfully. + +"I'm going to wear it awhile," she exclaimed. "It won't hurt it any. +Gran' said I wore it once, when I was little. It's mine, I guess, +anyway." + +She continued her rummaging through the drawer, but it yielded nothing +more to her fancy. She shut the drawer and locked it, and went to look +at herself once more in the piece of mirror. The sun came out from +behind the passing clouds, and, as it streamed in at one of the windows, +it shone on the chain and the coin and on the girl's face. + +"I just can't take it off yet," she said; and, closing the blinds, +tripped down the stairs. But, as she looked out the door, she espied +Granny Thornton coming in at the gate. She thought of the chain and its +coin; and, realizing it was too late to regain the attic and replace it, +slipped quietly out at the shed door and ran down through the fields to +the brook, before Granny Thornton had espied her. + +As she came to the edge of the brook, a small boy, that had been lying +face down on the turf, with an arm deep in the water, rose up and +greeted her. + +"Why, hello, Tim," she said, surprised; "what are you doing?" + +"Trying to tickle that big trout," replied Tim Reardon. "I've been here +half an hour, without moving, but I can't find him. There's where he +lies, though; I've seen him often. But he won't come near; he's too +smart. I'm going to try the pickerel. See here, look what I've got." + +He put a hand into his trousers pocket, and drew forth an object wrapped +in a piece of newspaper. It proved to be a new spoon hook, bright and +shiny, with gleaming red and silver, and a bunch of bright feathers +covering the hooks at the end. + +"Isn't that a beauty!" he exclaimed. "Cost a quarter. I bought it. John +Ellison gave me that money I found in the mill." + +"It's fine," replied the girl. "Going to try it?" + +"Sure," answered Tim. "My rod's hid down by the stream. I wanted to try +to tickle a trout when the shower ruffled the water here. Ever tickle a +trout?" + +Bess Thornton laughed. "No," said she; "nor you, either, I guess." + +"Honest injun, I have," asserted Tim, warmly. "You just put your hand +down in the water, and keep it still for an awful while; and by and by +perhaps a fish'll brush against it. Then he'll keep doing it, and then +you just move your hand and your fingers easy like, and the trout, he +kind er likes it. Then, when you get a good chance, you just grab quick +and throw him out on shore." + +"Hm!" exclaimed the girl; "I'd like to see you do it." + +They went along the brook to the road, passed up the road to a point +some way above the dam, when Tim Reardon presently disappeared in a +clump of bushes; from this he soon emerged, with his bamboo fish-pole. +They went down through the field to the shore. + +Jointing up the rod and affixing the reel, Tim Reardon ran out his line, +tied on the bright spoon-hook and began trolling. The allurement proved +enticing, and presently he hooked a fish. Tim gallantly handed the rod +to Bess Thornton. + +"Pull him in," he said. "I've caught lots of 'em. You can land this +one." + +The girl seized the rod, with a little cry of delight, and lifted the +fish out of water. Then she swung it in on shore, where it lay, with its +green body twisting about in the grass, and its great jaws distended, +showing its sharp teeth. + +"My, isn't he ugly looking!" she exclaimed. "You take the hook out, will +you, Tim?" + +Tim, grasping the squirming fish tightly behind the gills, disengaged +the hook and threw the fish down in the grass again. "That one's yours," +he said. + +The girl still held the pole. + +"Let me try just a minute, will you?" she asked. "If I get another, you +can have it." + +Tim assented readily, and she swung the pole and cast the hook far out +upon the water. She drew it back and forth past a clump of lily pads, +and then cast again. She was not as skilful with the long rod as the boy +had been, however; and once, as she cast, the line did not have time to +straighten out behind her, and the hook fell in the water close by the +shore. She jerked it out and tried to cast again. + +The hook swung in, almost striking her in the face; and both she and Tim +Reardon dodged. The next moment, she made a sweep with the rod, to throw +the hook back toward the water. Something caught, and she felt a slight +tug at her neck. She dropped the rod and uttered a cry of dismay. + +"What's the matter?" cried Little Tim. "Did you get hooked?" + +But the girl made no answer. She stood, holding the ends of the broken +chain in either hand, anxiously looking all about her. + +"The coin!" she gasped. "Tim, I've lost the coin. Oh, won't gran' give +it to me if I've lost that again!" + +They hunted everywhere about them, parting the tufts of grass carefully +and poking about on hands and knees. But the coin was nowhere to be +seen. + +"I tell you what," suggested Tim, "it's gone into the water. Never mind, +though; I can get it. I'll dive for it." + +They were at the edge of a little bank, from which the water went off +deep at a sharp angle. They gazed down into the water, but there was not +light enough within its depths, nor was it sufficiently clear to enable +them to see the bottom. + +"I'm going in after it, too," exclaimed Bess Thornton; "but I can't in +this dress." She glanced at the sailor-suit she wore. "I'm going back to +the house and put on the old one. You try for it while I'm gone, won't +you, Tim?" + +The boy nodded; and Bess Thornton, half in tears, started off on a smart +run to the old house. In her dismay, she had forgotten that Granny +Thornton had returned from the inn; but she was speedily aware of that +fact as she darted in at the kitchen door. There stood Granny Thornton, +with mingled anger and alarm depicted on her countenance. + +"Oh," she cried, "I'd just like to shake you, good. Give me back that +chain and the coin. Don't say you didn't take it. I found it gone. What +do you mean by going into that drawer? Don't you ever--" + +She stopped abruptly, for Bess Thornton was facing her, the tears +standing in her eyes, and she held in her hand the broken chain. + +"Oh, gran'," she cried, "don't scold. I didn't mean any harm. I just +wanted to wear it a little while. But it's--it's gone." + +And she told the story of the loss of the coin. + +Granny Thornton stared at the girl in amazement. Then she burst forth in +querulous tones, seemingly as though she were addressing the girl and +soliloquizing at the same time. + +"It's gone!" she gasped. "Gone again--and sure there's a fate in it. +Plenty of chains like that to be had, but never another coin of the kind +seen about these parts. Oh, but you've gone and done it. Don't you know +that coin meant luck for you, girl? You might have gone to the big house +to live some day; but you'll never go now. You've lost the luck. You're +bad--bad. There's no making you mind. Give me the chain." + +Her voice grew more harsh and angry. "Let the coin go," she said. +"You've lost it, and you can suffer for it. You'll not go out of this +house again to-day." + +Puzzled at her strange words, and hurt at the scolding, Bess Thornton +sat sullenly. "I'll get it back to-morrow, if I can't to-day," she said. +"I'm going to dive for it." + +"You keep away from the water, do you hear?" replied Granny Thornton; +but, a half-hour later, she seemed to have changed her mind. "Go and get +it, if you can," she said, shortly. "Change that dress--and don't get +drowned." + +But Little Tim, in the mean time, had not been idle. Hastily throwing +off his clothing, he dived again and again into the deep pool, swimming +to the bottom and groping about there. He brought up handfuls of sticks +and small stones, and the debris of the water's bed. A dozen times he +was unsuccessful--and then, at last, as he clung to the bank and opened +his fist for the water to thin the mud and ooze that he had clutched, +there lay the golden coin, bright and shining in his palm. + +He scrambled out, had his clothes on in a twinkling, dropped the coin +into one of his pockets, and started off on a run down the road. + +Perhaps old Granny Thornton had been right, however, when she exclaimed +that there was a fate in the mysterious foreign piece; for when Tim +Reardon reached his hand into his pocket presently, to see that the coin +was safe--lo, it had once more disappeared. Little Tim, with a look of +chagrin, turned his pocket inside out. A tell-tale hole in one corner +accounted for the disappearance. Tim, muttering his disgust, slowly +retraced his steps, kicking away the dust with his bare feet. + +He was still searching for the coin when Bess Thornton returned. They +were both searching for it an hour later. But the coin was lost. + +"I'm awful sorry," said Tim, as they finally relinquished the search. +"I'll tell you what, though. It's my fault, and I've got a dollar and +sixty cents left at home, and I'll give you that." + +The girl shook her head sadly. "I wouldn't take it," she replied. + +Two hours later, Benny Ellison, strolling homeward, with gun over +shoulder, and two pickerel dangling from a crotched stick, espied +something gleaming in the grass by the roadside. He stooped and picked +up a golden coin. + +"What luck!" he exclaimed. He put the coin in his pocket and carried it +home. He had a collection of curiosities there, in an old cabinet, that +he valued highly: coins, stamps, birds' nests, queer bits of stone and +odds and ends of stuff. Seeing that the coin was punched, and foreign, +and not available for spending money, he placed it among his treasures. +He was a curiously unsocial youth; had few pleasures that he shared with +his cousins, but gloated over his own acquisitions quietly like a miser. +He rejoiced silently in this new addition to his hoard, and said nothing +about it. + + + + +CHAPTER XVII + +A STRANGE ADMISSION + + +The days went by, and summer was near its end. Then, with the vacation +drawing to a close, there came a surprise for Henry Burns, in the form +of a letter from his aunt. It was she with whom he lived, in a +Massachusetts town; but now she wrote that she had decided to spend the +winter in Benton, and that he must enter school there at the fall term, +along with Tom Harris and Bob White. "Then I stay, too," exclaimed Jack +Harvey, when he had read the important news--and he did. The elder +Harvey, communicated with, had no objection; and, indeed, there was a +most satisfactory arrangement made, later, that Jack Harvey should board +with Henry Burns and his aunt; an arrangement highly pleasing to the two +boys, if it added later to the concern and worry of the worthy Miss +Matilda Burns. + +The days grew shorter and the nights cool; and, by and by, with much +reluctance, the canoes were hauled ashore for the last time, of an +afternoon, and stored away in a corner of the barn back of the camp; and +fishing tackle for summer use was put carefully aside, also. There were +lessons to be learned, and fewer half-days to be devoted to the sport +for which they cared most. + +The pickerel in the stream and the trout in the brook sought deeper +waters, in anticipation of winter. The boys spent less and less of their +time in the vicinity of the old Ellison farm. + +Tim and Young Joe Warren stuck mostly by the camp, and drew the others +there on certain select occasions. For Little Tim, by reason of long +roving, had a wonderful knowledge of the resources of the country around +the old stream. He had a beechnut grove that he had discovered, three +miles back from the water, on the farther shore; likewise a place where +the hazel bushes were loaded with nuts, and where a few butternut trees +yielded a rich harvest. Young Joe and he gathered a great store of +these, as the nights of early frost came on; and they spread a feast for +the others now and then, with late corn, roasted in questionable fashion +over a smoky box-stove that heated the camp stifling hot. + +October came in, with the leaves growing scarlet in the woods and sharp +winds whistling through the corn and bean stacks. Henry Burns and his +friends had seen but little of the Ellisons, who were out of school for +the winter, caring for the farm; but now the night of the 31st of +October found Henry Burns and Jack Harvey, George Warren, Bob White and +Tom Harris seated in the big kitchen of the Ellison farmhouse. + +It was plainly to be seen that, although the Ellisons had been reduced +in circumstances through the loss of the mill, there was still an +abundance of its kind yielded by the farm. On a table were dishes of +apples and fall pears; two pumpkin pies of vast circumference squatted +near by, close to a platter of honey and a huge pitcher of milk. + +It was dark already, though only half-past seven o'clock, and the lights +of two kerosene lamps gleamed through the kitchen windows. + +As hosts on this occasion, John and James Ellison presently proceeded to +introduce their city friends to the delights of milk and honey; a dish +composed of the dripping sweet submerged in a bowl of creamy milk, and +eaten therewith, comb and all. + +"Never hurt anybody eaten that way," explained John Ellison, "and this +is the real thing. The milk is from the Jersey cows in the barn, and the +honey's from the garret, where there's five swarms of bees been working +all summer." + +They need no urging, however. + +"Poor Joe! He'll die of grief when I tell him about this," remarked +George Warren, smacking his lips over a mouthful. + +"Why didn't you bring him along?" asked John Ellison. "I wanted you all +to come." + +"Arthur's off down town, and Joe's gone to the camp with Tim Reardon," +explained the eldest of the Warren brothers. "Tim and Joe'll be +sky-larking around somewhere later. They're great on Hallowe'en night, +you know. They've got a supply of cabbage-stumps to deliver at the +doors." + +And thus the talk drifted to Hallowe'en, the night when, if old +romances could only be believed, there are witches and evil spirits +abroad, alive to all sorts of pranks and mischief. + +In the midst of which, and most timely, there came suddenly a sharp tap +at one of the windows. They paused and turned quickly in that direction. +James Ellison sprang to the window and peered out. + +"Nothing there," he said; "one of those big beetles, I guess, attracted +by the light." + +They fell to eating again, when presently another smart rap at the +window startled them. + +John Ellison laughed. "It's some of fat old Benny's nonsense," he said. +"He wouldn't come in, because you city chaps were coming. He's rigged a +tick-tack; I can see the string of it. Wait a minute and I'll just steal +'round the other door and catch him at it. You fellows go on eating, and +don't pay any attention. I'll catch him." + +They resumed the feast; and again the sharp rap sounded upon the window +pane, caused by the clicking of a heavy nail--suspended from the window +sash by a pin and string, and yanked by somebody at the end of a longer +string attached--swinging in against the glass. + +There came a yell of surprise shortly; and, in a moment, there appeared +John Ellison clutching the culprit by the collar. Which culprit, to +their astonishment, proved to be, not Benny Ellison but Young Joe. + +"Here he is," laughed John Ellison, dragging in his prisoner. "What'll +we do with him?" + +"Clean him," suggested George Warren, winking at the others. "He's got a +dirty face." + +True enough, Young Joe had, in the course of his evening's adventures, +acquired a streak of smut across one cheek. + +Roaring at the suggestion, they seized the struggling captive, lifted +him up bodily to the sink, where they held him face upward under a +stream of water, pumped with a vigour. When they had done with him, +Young Joe's face was most assuredly clean. + +"Now," said John Ellison, as they set Joe on his feet again, "there's a +towel. Dry up and come and have some honey." + +Young Joe, grinning, and with a joyous vision of honey and pumpkin pie +before him, obeyed with alacrity. + +"Say," he said, cramming a spoonful of the mess into his mouth, and +gulping it with huge satisfaction, "can Tim come in? He's out there." + +"Sure, bring him in," assented John Ellison. + +A few shrill whistles from Young Joe brought his companion to the door; +and Tim Reardon was soon likewise equipped with bowl and spoon--but not +before he had got his ducking at the kitchen pump, which he took with +Spartan fortitude. + +Honey and milk, pies and fruit soon disappeared rapidly at the renewed +attack. A fresh pie, added largely for the benefit of Young Joe and Tim, +went the way of the others. Young Joe gave a murmur of surfeited delight +as the last piece of crust disappeared; while Little Tim was gorged to +the point almost of speechlessness, and could hardly shake his head at +the proffer of more. + +"Well," said George Warren, at length, "what are you two chaps doing +around here, anyway--I'll bet Joe smelled the food, clear down to the +camp." + +Young Joe, in reply, turned to John Ellison, and motioned toward the +farmyard. "Give us one of those pumpkins?" he asked. + +The pumpkins referred to lay in a great golden heap beside one of the +barns; and there were a few scattered ones lying out in the corn-field +beyond. + +"Why, sure," responded John Ellison. "Have as many as you want." And he +added, with a sly wink at George Warren, "We give a lot of them to the +pigs. You're welcome." + +Young Joe, lifting himself out of his chair with some effort, due to the +weight of pie and honey stowed within, disappeared through the door. He +returned, shortly, carrying a large handsome pumpkin on his shoulder. + +"What are you going to do with it?" asked John Ellison. + +Young Joe grinned. "Going to give it to Witham," he said. + +In preparation for this act of generosity, Young Joe proceeded to carve +upon one side of the pumpkin a huge, grinning face. Having finished +which, with due satisfaction to artistic details, he stood off and +admired his own handiwork. + +"Looks a little like Witham," he said. "Only it looks better-natured +than he does." + +"You'd better let Witham alone," said George Warren, assuming the +patronizing tone of an elder brother. "He's in a bad humour these days." + +"Not going to do any harm," replied Young Joe. "Going to put it up on +the flag-pole, eh Tim? Come along with us?" + +"Why, if it's got to be done," said Henry Burns, speaking with the +utmost gravity, "I suppose we might as well go along and see that it's +done right and shipshape;" and he arose from his chair. So, too, the +others, save John Ellison. + +"You fellows go ahead," he said, "and then come back. I don't feel like +playing a joke on Witham. I'm too much in earnest about him." + +"That's so," returned Henry Burns. "I don't blame you. We'll be back in +no time." + +They went down the hill, soon after, carrying the pumpkin between them +by turns. They cut across the field on the hill slope, crossed the old +bridge over the brook, and went on up the road toward the Half Way +House. + +"Look out for Bess Thornton," said Jim Ellison, who had accompanied +them. "She and the old woman are here now for the winter, keeping house +for Witham." + +"She won't let on, if she comes out," said Tim. + +But they saw nothing of her. Tired out with her day's work, the girl had +gone to bed and was soundly sleeping. + +They arrived presently at a little plot of grass in front of the inn, +from the centre of which there rose up a lofty flag-pole. It had been +erected by some former proprietor, for the patriotic purpose of flying +the American flag; but, to Colonel Witham's thrifty mind, it had offered +an excellent vantage for displaying a dingy banner, with the +advertisement of the Half Way House lettered thereon. This fluttered now +in a mournful way, half way up the mast, as though it were a sign of +mourning for the quality of food and lodging one might expect at the +hands of Colonel Witham. + +A dim light shone in the two front office windows of the inn, but the +shades were drawn so that they could not see within. Other than the +lamplight, there seemed to be a flickering, uncertain, intermittent +gleam, or variation of the light, indicating probably a fire in the open +hearth. + +The boys waited now for a moment, till Henry Burns, who had volunteered, +went quietly up toward the hotel, to reconnoitre. He came back +presently, saying that there was a side window, shaded only by a blind, +half-closed on the outside, through which he had been able to make out +old Granny Thornton and Colonel Witham seated by the fire. + +"Run up the pumpkin," he said; "I'll go back there again and keep watch. +If Witham starts to come out, I'll whistle, and we'll cut and run." + +He went back to the window, and took up his place there. + +"Cracky!" exclaimed Young Joe; "who's going to shin that pole? It's a +high one. Wish I hadn't eaten that last piece of pie. How about you, +Tim?" + +"I can do it," asserted Tim, stoutly. + +"Nonsense!" exclaimed Harvey. "There's the halyards. What more do you +want? You cut a hole through the pumpkin, George, clear through the +middle, so we can pass an end of the rope, and I'll see that it goes up, +and stays." + +The pumpkin being duly pierced, one free end of the halyard was passed +through the hole. Then Harvey proceeded to tie a running knot, through +which he passed the other free end of rope. They took hold with a will, +and hoisted. Quickly, the golden pumpkin was borne aloft; when it +brought up at the top of the pole, the running knot drew tight, and the +pumpkin was fast--with the difficulty presenting itself to whomever +should seek to get it down, that the harder one pulled on the loose end +of rope, the tighter he would draw the knot that held the thing high in +air. + +Now it shone forth in the darkness like an evil sort of beacon, its +silly grotesque face grinning like a true hobgoblin of Hallowe'en; for, +having scooped out its pulp and seeds, they had set a candle therein and +lighted it just before they sent it aloft. + +"Great, isn't it?" chuckled Young Joe. "Now let's get Henry Burns, and +give Colonel Witham notice." But, strangely enough, Henry Burns did not +respond to their whistles, low at first, then repeated with louder +insistence. + +"That's funny," said George Warren. "Wait here a minute and I'll go and +get him." But, to his surprise, when he had approached the corner of +the inn, where he could see Henry Burns, still crouching by the +half-opened blind, the latter youth turned for a moment and motioned +energetically for him to keep away. + +"Come on," whispered George Warren, "the thing's up; we want to get +Witham out to see it." + +But Henry Burns only turned again and uttered a warning "sh-h-h," then +resumed his place at the window. + +George Warren crept up, softly. + +It was not surprising that Henry Burns had been interested by what he +saw in the old room of the inn, and by what he at length came to hear. +At first glance, there was Colonel Witham, fat and red-faced, strangely +aroused, evidently labouring under some excitement, addressing himself +vigorously to the old woman who sat close by. His heavy fist came down, +now and then, with a thump on the arm of the chair in which he sat; and +each time this happened poor old Granny Thornton jumped nervously as +though she had been struck a blow. Her thin, peaked face was drawn and +anxious; her eyes were fixed and staring; and she shook as though her +feeble old frame would collapse. + +Henry Burns, surprised at this queer pantomine, gazed for a moment, +unable to hear what was being said. Then, the voice of Colonel Witham, +raised to a high pitch, could be clearly distinguished. What he said +surprised Henry Burns still more. + +"I tell you I'll have her," cried Colonel Witham; "you've got to give +her to me. What are you afraid of? I won't starve her. Where'll she go +when you die, if you don't? Let her go to the poorhouse, will you?" + +And he added, heartlessly, "You can't live much longer; don't you know +that?" + +Old Granny Thornton, half lifting herself from her chair, shook her head +and made a reply to Colonel Witham, which Henry Burns could not hear. +But what she said was perhaps indicated by Colonel Witham's reply. + +"Yes, I do like her," he said. "She's a flyaway and up to tricks, but +I'll take that out of her. I'll bring her up better than you could. I +need her to help take care of the place." + +Again the woman appeared to remonstrate. She pointed a bony finger at +Colonel Witham and spoke excitedly. Colonel Witham's face flushed with +anger. + +"I tell you you've got to give her to me," he cried. "I'll swear you put +her in my charge. I'll take her. It's that, or I'll pack you both off to +the poorhouse. I'll make out the papers for you to sign. You'll do it; +you've got to." + +Old Granny Thornton sprang from her chair with a vigour excited by her +agitation. She clutched an arm of the chair with one hand, while she +raised the other impressively, like a witness swearing to an oath in +court. And now, her voice keyed high with excitement, these words fell +upon the ears of Henry Burns: + +"You'll never get her, Dan Witham. You can't have her. She's been here +too long already. She's going back, now. I can't give her away, +because--because she's not mine to give. She's not mine, I tell you. +She's not mine!" + +Then, her strength exhausted by the utterance, she sank back once more +into her seat. + +Colonel Witham, his face blank with amazement, sought now to rouse her +once more. He arose and grasped her by an arm. He shook her. + +"Whose is she, then, if she's not yours?" he asked. "Whom does she +belong to?" + +What answer Granny Thornton made--if any--to this inquiry, was lost to +Henry Burns; for, at this moment, George Warren, stealing to the window, +tripped over a running vine and fell with a crash, amid a row of milk +pans that Henry Burns had carefully avoided. + +Henry Burns got one fleeting glimpse of the two by the fire springing up +in alarm, as he and George Warren fled from the spot. A moment more, the +others had joined them in flight, whooping and yelling to bring Colonel +Witham to the door. + +Looking back, as they ran, they saw presently a square patch of light +against the dark background of the house, where Colonel Witham had +thrown wide the front door; and, in the light that streamed forth from +within, the figure of the colonel stood disclosed in full relief. He was +gesticulating wildly, with angry gaze directed toward the grinning face +of the pumpkin. + +Colonel Witham strode down from the piazza and walked rapidly to the +foot of the flag-staff. He seized the one end of the halyards that +dangled within reach, and jerked hard upon it, endeavouring to shake the +pumpkin from its lofty position. But it was of no avail. Every tug upon +the rope served only to tighten the knot. The colonel glared helplessly +for a moment, and then returned into the inn. + +Again he emerged, bearing something in his hand, which he raised and +aimed directly at the gleaming face. A report rang out. The echoes of +the sound of Colonel Witham's shotgun startled the crows in all the +nests around. But the pumpkin stayed. The shot had only buried itself +within its soft shell. The colonel would not give up so easily, however. +Again and again he fired, hoping to shatter the pumpkin, or to sever the +rope that held it. + +Presently a shot extinguished the light within; and it was no longer an +easy mark to see. Breathing vengeance upon all the boys for miles +around, Colonel Witham finally gave it up, and retired, vanquished, to +the inn, to await another day. The pumpkin was still aloft. + +"Say, Henry," asked George Warren, as they started off up the hill +again, "what did you see in there, anyway? What did you want me to keep +away for?" + +Henry Burns, sober-faced and puzzled, gave a groan of disappointment. +"Oh, if you'd only kept away for a moment," he exclaimed. "I can't tell +you now; wait till by and by." + +"Jack," he added, addressing his friend, "I'm going down to Benton. Tell +John I couldn't come back. I've got something to do." And, to the +surprise of his companions, Henry Burns left them abruptly, and went +down the road at a rapid pace. + +He had something to think over, and he wanted to be alone. What he had +heard puzzled and astounded him. There was a mystery in the old inn, of +which he had caught a fleeting hint. What could it all mean? He turned +it over in his mind a hundred different ways as he walked along; as to +what he had best do; whom he should tell of his strange discovery--what +was the mystery of Bess Thornton's existence? + +Certainly the air was full of mystery and strange surprises, this +Hallowe'en night; and the old Ellison house up on the hill was not free +from it. An odd thing happened, also, there. For, passing by the old +cabinet where Benny Ellison hoarded his treasures, something impelled +Mrs. Ellison to pause for a moment, open the doors and look within. + +She smiled as she glanced over the shelves, with the odds and ends of +boyish valuables arranged there; a book of stamps; some queer old +coloured prints of Indian wars; birds' nests; fishing tackle; a +collection of birds' eggs and coins. There were some two score of these +last, set up endwise in small wooden racks. She glanced them over--and +one, bright and shiny, attracted her attention. She took it up and held +it to the light. Then she uttered a cry and sank down on the floor. + +Strangely enough, when John and Benny Ellison rushed in, at the sound of +her voice, she was sitting there, sobbing over the thing; and they +thought her taken suddenly ill. But she started up, at the sight of +Benny Ellison, and asked, in a broken voice, how he had come by it. And +when he had told her, she seemed amazed and strangely troubled. + +"Then someone must have dropped it there recently," she exclaimed. "How +could that be? It must be the same. I never saw another like it. Oh, +what can it mean?" + +Strangest of all to Benny Ellison, she would not return the coin to his +collection; but held it fast, and only promised that she would +recompense him for it. He went to bed, sullen and surly over the loss of +his treasure. Mrs. Ellison held the coin in her hand, gazing upon it as +though it had some curious power of fascination, as she went to her room +and shut the door. + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII + +GRANNY THORNTON'S SECRET + + +The second day following these happenings, Tim Reardon sat on a bank of +the stream, a short distance above the Ellison dam, fishing. There was +no off-season in the matter of fishing, for Little Tim. Nobody else +thought of trying for the pickerel now. But Tim Reardon fished the +stream from early spring until the ice came; and, in the winter, he +chopped through the ice, and fished that way, in the deep holes that he +knew. + +He was no longer barefoot, for the days were chilly. A stout pair of +shoes protected his feet, which he kicked together as he dangled a long +pole out from the shore. He was fishing in deep water now, with a lead +sinker attached to his line; and, beside him, was a milk-can filled with +water and containing live shiners for bait. These he had caught in the +brook. + +The fish weren't biting, but Little Tim was a patient fisherman. He was +so absorbed, in fact, in the thought that every next minute to come he +must surely get the longed-for bite, that he failed to note the approach +of a man from the road. And when, all at once, a big hand closed upon +his coat collar, he was so surprised and gave such a jump that he would +have lost his balance and gone into the stream, if the hand had not held +him fast. Squirming about, in the firm grasp of the person who held him, +Tim turned and faced Colonel Witham. + +"Well, I reckon I've got yer," was Colonel Witham's comment. "No use in +your trying to wriggle away." + +The fact was quite evident, and Tim's face clouded. + +"I haven't done anything to hurt," he said. "Lemme go." + +"Who said you had," replied Colonel Witham, grimly. "I didn't say you +had--and I didn't say you hadn't. I wouldn't take chances on saying that +you hadn't done a whole lot of things you oughtn't to. You've got to +come along with me, though. I'm not going to hurt yer. You needn't be +scared." + +He changed his grip on the boy, from the latter's collar to one wrist, +which he held firmly. + +"Pick up your stuff," he said, "and come along with me. No use jumping +that way. I've got you, all right." + +Little Tim, thinking over his sins, reached down and picked up the can +of bait. + +"I haven't done anything to hurt," he repeated. + +"Hm!" exclaimed the colonel. "Reckon you've done a lot of things to +hurt, if people only knew it. Here, I'll take that can. You carry your +pole. Now come along." + +"What for?" asked Tim, obeying the colonel's command to "come along" +with him. + +"I'll show you what I want," replied Colonel Witham. "You know well +enough, I guess, without any of my telling. Oh, I know you'll say you +don't; but I don't care anything about that. Just come along." + +They proceeded out to the road, whence they turned and went in the +direction of the inn. Tim thought of the pumpkin, and his heart sank. He +was going to "catch it" for that, he thought. + +They came up to the flag-staff presently, and Tim repressed a chuckle +with difficulty; for there, as on the night they had sent it aloft, hung +the big pumpkin, grinning down on them both. + +"There," said Colonel Witham, "you didn't have any hand in that--oh, no! +You wouldn't do it, of course. You never did nothing to hurt. I know +you. But see here, youngster"--and he gave a twist to Tim's +wrist--"you've got to get it down, do you understand?" + +Tim gave a sigh of relief. It wasn't a "whaling," after all. + +"Now," continued Colonel Witham, eying him sharply, "perhaps you had a +hand in that, and perhaps you didn't. I don't know and I don't care. +What I want is, to get it down. You needn't say you didn't do it, +because I wouldn't believe any of you boys, anyway. But I'm going to do +the right thing." The colonel hesitated a moment. "I'm going to be +handsome about it. You get that down and I'll give you a +quarter--twenty-five cents, do you hear?" + +Little Tim nodded. + +"Well," Colonel Witham went on, "you give me that fish-pole. I'm not +going to have you cut and run. I'm too smart for that." + +So saying, the colonel seized the boy's fish-pole, and relinquished his +grasp of his wrist. + +"Reckon you won't run away long as I've got this," he said. "Now can you +shin that pole?" + +"Sure," replied Tim. He glanced up at the lofty peak of the flag-staff, +then began removing his shoes and stockings. He was up the pole the next +moment like a squirrel, clinging fast with arms and bare toes. Half-way +up he rested, by clutching the halyard and twisting it about his arm. + +"Little monkey!" ejaculated Colonel Witham; "I'd give a dollar to know +if he put it up there. Well, reckon I've got to give him that quarter, +though, as long as I said I would." + +Tim did the topmost length of the pole cautiously. It was a high one, +with a slim topmast spliced on with iron bands. He knew how to climb +this like a sailor; careful to hold himself close in to the slender +stick, and not throw his weight out, so as to put a strain on it that +might cause it to snap and let him fall; careful not to get it to +swaying. + +Then, almost at the very top, he rested again for a moment, sustaining +part of his weight by the halyards, as before. When he had got his +breath, he drew himself up close to where the big pumpkin hung, on the +opposite side; dug his toes in hard, and held on with them and one hand. +He reached his other hand into a trousers' pocket, and drew forth a +knife that he had opened before he began the ascent. + +Holding fast to the pole, he cut the rope that held the pumpkin. It +fell, grazing one of his knees, and would have dislodged him had he not +guarded against it. The next moment, it landed with a crash at the base +and was shattered into fragments. + +Little Tim laboriously loosened the knot Harvey had tied, and let the +halyard run free. A moment more, and he was on the ground with Colonel +Witham. + +The colonel eyed the wreck of the hobgoblin with satisfaction. Then he +turned to Tim. + +"You're a smart little rascal," he said, "and a plucky one. I'll say +that for you. There's your fish-pole and your can." + +Colonel Witham paused, and reluctantly put his hand in his trousers +pocket. With still greater reluctance, he drew forth a twenty-five cent +piece and tendered it to the boy. + +"Here," he said, "it's a lot of money, but I won't say as you haven't +earned it." + +To Colonel Witham's astonishment, however, the boy shook his head. + +"I don't want any money," he said. "I wouldn't take it for that." + +Another moment, he had slipped into shoes and stockings, snatched up his +pole and can, and was walking quickly down the road. + +Little Tim had a conscience. + +"Well, if that don't beat me!" exclaimed the amazed Colonel Witham, as +he stood staring at the boy. "Who'd ever have thought it?" + +But soon a great light dawned upon him. + +"Aha!" he exclaimed. "The little rascal! He stuck it up there, or my +name's not Witham. That's why he wouldn't take the money for getting it +down. Reckon I ought to have given him a taste of that stick, instead of +offering him a quarter." + +But even Colonel Witham, when he came to think upon it, knew deep down +in his heart that he had a sort of admiration for Little Tim. + +In the meantime, Henry Burns, turning over in his mind the secret that +had been partly revealed to him, through the words of Grannie Thornton, +could not make up his mind just what to do about it. He had almost +decided to entrust what he knew to Lawyer Estes, for him to unravel, +when the lawyer was called out of town for several weeks, on an +important case. Again, another event intervened to cause delay. Miss +Matilda Burns made a visit to her home in Massachusetts, and took Henry +Burns with her; and it was well into November, close upon Thanksgiving, +in fact, when they returned to Benton. By this time early winter had set +in, and some heavy snow falls had buried all the country around and +about Benton deep under drifts. + +"You're just in time," said Harvey, as he and Tom Harris greeted Henry +Burns on the latter's return. "We've got a week's holiday, and look what +I've made for us." + +Harvey proudly displayed a big toboggan, some seven feet in length, in +the making of which he had expended the surplus time and energy of the +last two weeks. "No easy job steaming those ends and making 'em curl up +together even," he added; "but she'll go some. Say, you ought to see the +slide we've got, down the mountain above Ellison's. Well go up this +afternoon, if you like." + +They were up there, all of them, early in the afternoon, George and +Young Joe Warren driving one of the Warren horses hitched to a sleigh, +and drawing a string of toboggans after. Blanketing the horse some +distance above the Ellison dam, they proceeded up the surface of the +frozen stream to the slide. + +It was, as Henry Burns said, enough to make the hair on one's fur cap +stand on end, to look at it. From the summit of what might almost be +termed a small mountain--certainly, a tremendous hill--to the base, down +a precipitous incline, the boys had constructed a chute, by banking the +snow on either side. This chute led down on to the frozen stream, where +a similar chute had been formed for a half-mile or more down stream. + +Moreover, a temporary thaw, with a fall of sleet, had coated the bed of +the chute with a glassy surface, like polished steel, or glare ice. +Henry Burns, standing beside the slide, half-way up the mountain, saw a +toboggan with four youths dash down the steep incline, presently. Little +Tim sat in front, yelling like an Indian at a war-dance. They fairly +took Henry Burns's breath away as they shot past him. He looked at +Harvey and shrugged his shoulders. + +"Guess that's pretty near as exciting as cruising in Samoset bay, isn't +it?" he remarked. "Well, you hold the tiller, Jack, and I'm game; though +it's new sport to me. I never spent a winter in Maine before." + +"Oh, there isn't much steering to do here," replied Harvey; "you only +have to keep her in the chute, and not let her get to swerving. It's +easy. You'll like it." + +It certainly did seem a risky undertaking, to a novice, standing at the +very summit of the mountain and looking along down the icy plunge of the +chute, far below to the stream. It took all of Henry Burns's nerve, to +seat himself at the front end of the toboggan, while Jack Harvey gave a +shove off. For the first moment, it was almost like falling off a +steeple. Then he caught the exhilaration of the sport, as the toboggan +gathered speed and shot down the incline at lightning speed. + +Henry Burns had hardly time to gather his thoughts, and to glory in the +excitement, when they were at the foot of the descent, and gliding +swiftly along the surface of the stream. + +"My, but that's great!" he exclaimed. "It's next to sailing, if it isn't +as good. Come on, let's try it again." + +The mountain was admirably situated for such a sport; for it rose up +from the shore where the stream made a sharp bend in its course, forming +a promontory that overlooked the surrounding land. Thus the chute, +after leaving the base of it, continued in a straight line down stream. + +The sport, thrilling as it was, however, grew tame for Young Joe. He +wanted something different. He had brought along, also, a steel-shod +sled, known to the boys as a "pointer," because its forward ends ran out +to sharp points, protected by the turning up of the steel runners. He +declared himself ready to make the descent on that. + +"Don't be a fool, Joe," remonstrated his elder brother; "you can't +handle that here. You'll go so fast you can't steer it." + +If Young Joe had had any misgivings and doubts upon the matter before, +however, this remonstrance settled them. A little opposition was all +that was needed to set him off. Modestly calling the attention of all +the others to the fact that he was about to attempt a feat never before +tried, Young Joe lay at full length upon the sled and pushed off. + +Certainly, never before had any object shot down the mountain side at +the speed Young Joe was travelling. Fortunately for him, the sides of +the chute were sufficiently high to keep the sled within bounds, and on +its course. The sled made the descent in safety and darted out across +the surface of the stream, still within the chute. Then something +unexpected happened. + +The chute had been designed for toboggans, and continued only as far as +the fastest one of them would travel. Watching Young Joe's daring feat, +the boys saw him make the descent and speed along the level, until he +reached the spot where the toboggans usually stopped. And there, also, +Young Joe's sled did stop, its sharp points digging into the crust and +sticking fast. + +But not Young Joe. Like an arrow fired from a crossbow, he left the sled +and continued on over the icy surface of the crust downstream. It was a +smooth, glare surface, and he slid as though it were greased. Far down +stream, they saw him finally come to a stop--the most astonished youth +that ever slid down a hill. He ended in a little drift of snow blown +against a projecting log, and arose, sputtering. + +Strangely enough, thanks to thick mittens, and a cap drawn down to cover +his face, he was not even scratched. He picked himself up, looked about +him, dazed for a moment, and then walked slowly back. + +And after all, the upshot of Young Joe's experiment was, that sleds +became popular on the chute, and almost came to exclude the toboggan; +only the boys continued the chute for fully a mile down stream, +shovelling away to the glare ice. Young Joe had introduced a new and +more exciting form of sport. + +The next two days afforded rare enjoyment, for the slide was at its +best, and the weather clear and bracing. But the afternoon of the third +day was not so propitious. It began to grow cloudy at midday, and some +light flakes of snow fell, as they ate their luncheon and drank their +coffee, beside a fire of spruce and birch at the summit of the +mountain, near the head of the slide. + +They continued till about five in the afternoon, however, when the snow +began falling steadily, and they took their last slide. A party of three +of them, Harvey and Henry Burns and George Warren, had proceeded nearly +to the Ellison dam, on their way to Benton, when Henry Burns suddenly +stopped, with an exclamation of annoyance. + +"I've got to go back," he said; "I've left my buckskin gloves and Tom's +hatchet up by the fire." + +"Oh, let 'em go till to-morrow," said Harvey, who was feeling hungry. + +"No, it won't do," replied Henry Burns, looking back wearily to where +the faint smoke of the day's fire still showed through the light +snow-fall. "You fellows needn't wait, though. Keep on, and perhaps I'll +catch up." + +He started back, plodding slowly, for he was tired with the frequent +climbing of the mountain throughout the day. The others, thinking of the +supper awaiting them, continued on the way home. + +It was a little more than a mile that Henry Burns had to go; and, by the +time he was half-way there, it was snowing hard. The storm had increased +perceptibly; and, moreover, the wind was rising, and it blew the snow +into his eyes so that he could hardly see. He kept on stubbornly, +however. + +Presently, there came a gust that reminded him of a quick squall on the +water. It seemed to gather a cloud of the driving snow and fairly bury +him under it. He staggered for a moment and stood still, holding his +hands to his face for protection. + +"That's a three-reef blow, all right," he muttered, and went on again, +finally beginning the ascent of the mountain. But there he found himself +suddenly assailed by a succession of gusts that made it impossible to +try to climb. Moreover, the air was rapidly becoming so thick with snow +that he saw he was in danger of being lost. + +He made up his mind quickly, realizing the danger he was in, and started +back down stream. He must gain shelter soon, or he would be unable to +find his way. He was not any too hasty in his decision. In a few minutes +the outlines of the stream and its banks were blended into a blurred +white mass. Then he could no longer see the shore at any distance, and +even the path was being blotted out. + +He found, too, it was with difficulty that he could breathe, for the +incessant flying of the snow into his nostrils. Estimating, as best he +could, where the Half Way House must lie, he struck off from the stream +and headed for that. He stumbled on blindly, till his progress was +suddenly arrested by his bumping into an object that proved, most +fortunately, to be Colonel Witham's flag-pole. Even at that short +distance, the inn was now hidden; but he knew where it must be, and +presently stood safe upon its piazza. + +It was an odd situation for Henry Burns. Once before, had Colonel Witham +refused him shelter under this roof, and that, too, in a storm. But he +knew there was no help for it now. He had got to enter--and he had got +to stay. No human being could go on to-night. He hesitated only for a +moment, and then opened the door and stepped within. + +The office was vacant, and the air was chilly. The remains of a wood +fire smouldered, rather than burned, in the fireplace. There was no lamp +lighted, although it was quite dark, with the storm and approaching +evening. The place seemed deserted. + +Henry Burns stepped to the desk, took a match from a box and lighted the +lamp that hung there. It cast a dismal glow, and added little to the +cheer of the place, although it enabled him to distinguish objects +better. He turned to the hearth, raked the embers together, blew up a +tiny blaze and replenished the fire from the wood-box. He threw off his +outer garments, and drew a chair toward the blaze. + +But now, from an adjoining room, the door of which was slightly ajar, +there came unexpectedly a thin, querulous voice that startled him. He +recognized, the next moment, the tones of old Granny Thornton. + +"Is that you, Dan?" she asked. + +Henry Burns opened the door and answered. She seemed afraid, until he +had told her who he was, begging him to go away from the place and not +harm a poor, lone woman. But she recognized him, when he had spoken +again, and had lighted another lamp and held it for her to look at him. + +She sat in an arm-chair, in which she had been evidently sleeping, +propped up with pillows; and looked ill and feeble. + +"I'm cold," she said, and shivered. + +Henry Burns dragged her chair out into the office, by the fire, while +she clung to the arms of it, as though in terror of tumbling out on to +the floor. And, in that brief journey from room to room, it flashed over +Henry Burns that the time and opportunity had come for him to know the +secret she possessed. + +"Dan won't like to find you here," she muttered. "He ought to be +here--leaving me all alone. My, how it blows! How'd you get here, +anyway? Don't mind what Dan says; you'll have to stay." + +"He'll not be here to-night, with this storm keeping up," answered Henry +Burns, "Where is he?" + +"He went to town with Bess," said she. "Why don't she come? I'm lonesome +without her. I'm hungry, too. She ought to make me a cup of tea." + +"I'll make it," said Henry Burns; "and I'll get something for myself, +too. I'll pay for it, so Witham won't lose by it." + +He made his way to the kitchen and the pantry; lighted a fire in the +kitchen stove, and made tea for himself and Granny Thornton; and toasted +some bread for her. Then he foraged for himself and ate a hearty meal, +for he was ravenously hungry. And, all the while, he was thinking what +he should do and say to the old woman, nodding in the chair out in the +office. + +He returned there, and put more wood on the fire, so that it blazed up +brightly, and the sparks shot up the flue with a roar. The roar was more +than answered by the wind outside. It rattled the glass in the windows, +and dashed the snow against them as though it would break them in. It +found a hundred cracks and crevices about the old inn, to moan and +shriek through, and blew a thin film of snow under the door. + +Old Granny Thornton shook and quivered, as some of the sharper blasts +cried about the corners of the house. She seemed frightened; and once +she spoke up in a half whisper, and asked Henry Burns if he believed +there were ever spirits out on such a night as this. He would have +laughed away her fears, under ordinary circumstances; but it suited his +purpose better now to shake his head, and answer, truthfully enough, +that he didn't know. + +Presently, the old woman started up in her chair and stared anxiously at +one of the snow-covered windows. + +"They might be lost!" she cried, hoarsely. "They could be lost to-night +in this storm, like folks were in the great blizzard twenty years ago. +Oh, Bess"--she uttered the girl's name with a sob--"I hope you're safe. +You'd die in this snow. Say, boy, do you suppose they've got shelter? +It's not Dan Witham I care for, whether he's dead or not, but Little +Bess." + +Henry Burns stepped in front of the old woman, and looked into her eyes. + +"What do you care whether Bess is lost or not?" he asked. "She don't +belong to you. She's not yours. You're not her grandmother." + +At the words, so quick and unexpected, Granny Thornton shrank back as +though she had received a blow. Her eyes rolled in her head, and she +seemed to be trying to reply; but the words would not come. She gasped +and choked, and clutched at her throat with her shrunken hands. + +Henry Burns spoke again, grasping one of her hands, and compelling her +to listen. + +"Somebody else wants her home more than you do," he said. "Why don't you +give her back? She's too smart and bright to go to the poorhouse, when +you die. Why do you keep her here?" + +He spoke at random, knowing not whether he was near the secret or not, +but determined that he would make her speak out. + +But she sank down in her chair, huddled into an almost shapeless, +half-lifeless heap. Her head was buried in her hands. She rocked feebly +to and fro. Once she roused herself a bit, and strove to ask a question, +but seemed to be overcome with weakness. Henry Burns thought he divined +what she would ask, and answered. + +"I know it's so," he said. "You can't hide it any longer. I've found it +out." + +It seemed as though she would not speak again. The minutes went by, +ticked off in clamorous sound, by a big clock on the wall. Granny +Thornton still crouched all in a heap in her chair, moaning to herself. +Henry Burns remained silent and waited. + +Then when, all at once, the old woman brought herself upright, with a +jerk, and spoke to him, the sound of her voice amazed him. It was not +unlike the tone in which she had answered Colonel Witham, the night +Henry Burns overheard her. It was shrill and sharp, though with a +whining intonation. What she said was most unexpected. + +"Have you been to school?" she queried. + +Henry Burns stared hard. He thought her mind wandering. But she +continued. + +"Don't stare that way--haven't you any wit? Can you write? Hurry--I'm +afeared Dan will be here." + +Henry Burns understood, in a flash. He sprang to the desk, got the pen +and ink there and a block of coarse paper, the top sheet of which had +some figuring on it. He returned to the old woman's side and sat down, +with the paper on his knees. She stared at him blankly for a few +moments--then said abruptly: + +"Write it down just as I tell you. I'm going to die soon--Don't stare +like that--write it down. Dan Witham can't harm me then, and I'm going +to tell. Her name isn't Bess Thornton--it's Bess Ellison." + +Henry Burns's hand almost refused to write. But he controlled himself, +and followed her. + +"Dan shan't have her," she continued. "I'll give her up, first. Twelve +years ago last June she was born. And she weren't as pretty as my girl's +baby, that was born the same day--though they looked alike, too. + +"My girl's name was Elizabeth, but she's dead. She was a sight prettier +than Lizzie Anderson that married Jim Ellison. But my girl married Tom +Howland, and he ran away and left her, and that just before the baby was +born. And her baby, Elizabeth Howland, was born the same day, I tell +you, as Lizzie Ellison's baby. That one was named Elizabeth, +too--Elizabeth Ellison. That's Bess. + +"And when the two babies were born, why we were poor and Jim Ellison was +well-to-do. The Thorntons got in debt, and he bought up the mortgages. +And when Bess Ellison was born, her mother was so ill she didn't see the +baby for many weeks; and my girl went up to the house in about three +weeks to nurse both babies, we being poor. And I went up, too, to look +after things. + +"I guess my girl was wild, too, though I won't blame her now. One day +she went to town and didn't come back; and she left me a note, saying +she wouldn't ever come back, anyway. And I could bring up the +baby--which I didn't like to do, because I'd brought up one, and now +she'd run away. + +"So I was getting ready to go back to the house and take the baby with +me; and I took care of both babies for a day or two. And just as I was +planning to go back, there lay the two, side by side in the bed; and I +could hardly tell which was which--they looked so much alike. + +"Then what put it into my head, I don't know. But I thought that, if I +changed the two, nobody'd know, because Bess Ellison's mother hadn't +seen her. And I thought of how the property would come back to the +Thorntons that way, if I put my girl's Bess in the other's place. And I +up and did it, quick. + +"Then, when I got home with Lizzie Ellison's baby, why I found I'd been +so hasty I'd brought away a chain and bit of money, that they'd put +about her neck. It was an old coin that had been in the family for +years, and was thought to carry good luck--so I learned afterwards. I +meant to take it back, but I couldn't, right away, and then I lost the +coin. Oh, how I hunted for it! But I never could find it. + +"Now are you putting it all down? Be quick, or Dan might come in. It was +all for nothing--what I did--for my girl's baby died two years later. +Let me look what you've got there. I know school-writing. I went to +school once. Give me the pen. I'll put my name down to that. Hold my +hand, so it won't shake. That's my name. It don't look like much, I +guess. But that's it." + +Tremblingly, the old woman took the pen and, guided by Henry Burns, +subscribed her name to what he had written. Then she spoke again: + +"Go into that bed-room and look in the top drawer. There's a key there. +That's the key to the old house." + +Henry Burns followed her instructions, and brought forth the key. She +bade him keep it, and go the next day and get the stuff in the attic: +the chain, minus its locket; the little dress, and a pair of shoes. She +mourned the loss of the coin, lest her strange story might not be +believed by Mrs. Ellison, without that evidence--not knowing that the +coin had even now come into Mrs. Ellison's own hands. + +She sank into a doze not long after; and Henry Burns also slept, on a +couch in the office, with a buffalo robe over him. He woke early next +day, waded through the drifts to the old house, and got the things from +the drawer. Then he went down the road. + +Below the old mill, near the road that ran up to the Ellison farm, a +horse and sledge came in sight, travelling slowly. Henry Burns's pulse +beat quicker as he recognized Colonel Witham and Bess coming up from +Benton, where they had passed the night. Colonel Witham scowled upon +him, but the girl smiled. + +"Hello," she said. "Isn't everything pretty, all covered with snow? +Where'd you come from so early?" + +Henry Burns could hardly answer her. He faced Colonel Witham. + +"Granny Thornton's got an errand up at the Ellisons' for Bess," he said. +"I just came from the inn, I left the money for my lodging, too. Mrs. +Ellison wants to see Bess." + +Colonel Witham grumbled. "I won't wait for her," he said. "She'll have +to foot it up through the snow." + +"I don't care," exclaimed the girl, and sprang lightly out. + +Henry Burns never did remember what was said on that walk up to the +farm. His mind was taken up with one subject. He had a vague +remembrance, after it was all over, of knocking at the door, and of +their being both admitted; of his almost ignoring the greeting of the +brothers; of his finding himself and Bess somehow in the parlour with +Mrs. Ellison. + +He remembered, afterward, of handing the writing he had done, at old +Granny Thornton's bidding, to Mrs. Ellison, and of her starting to read +it and breaking down suddenly; of her asking him many questions about +it, and of his answering them almost in a daze. He remembered that Mrs. +Ellison resumed the reading, the tears streaming down her cheeks; of how +he laid down the little bundle of stuff he had brought from the attic, +and pointed it out to Mrs. Ellison. + +He remembered that Mrs. Ellison sprang up and seized the child in her +arms--and just about that time Henry Burns stole out and left the two +together; so that he never did know just what happened next. + + + + +CHAPTER XIX + +THE MYSTERY OF THE MILL + + +Henry Burns, slipping quietly away from the farmhouse on the hill, +tramped joyously through the snowdrifts to the highway, "caught a ride" +on a sledge going in to Benton and started homeward. He had not ridden +far, however, when a double-seated sleigh appeared in sight, which +seemed even at a distance to be familiar. It became more so when, at +length, he made out clearly a white horse belonging to Tom Harris's +father, and, occupying the two seats, his friends Tom and Bob, Jack +Harvey and George Warren. + +Perhaps they didn't give three cheers and a tiger when they espied Henry +Burns! Jack Harvey and George Warren, struggling down the road through +the storm of the afternoon before, had worried not a little about him, +and would have gone back to his aid, if they could have done so. But the +wind and snow had been too fierce; and they could only plod on, hoping +that his usual luck and cleverness would not desert him, and that he +would gain shelter in time. + +They seized Henry Burns now and tumbled him into the sleigh, in rough +and hearty fashion; and they turned about and drove back to Benton at +the very best pace that the big horse could make through the snow. Henry +Burns told the story of the night, as they proceeded. + +"Say, that's like a story out of the library," remarked George Warren. +"Just think of it! Little Bess a sister of the Ellison fellows. What did +they say, Henry, when you told them?" + +"Nothing," replied Henry Burns. "I didn't give 'em a chance. I got out +quick." + +"Well, I'm mighty glad for her," exclaimed Jack Harvey, heartily. "She's +the pluckiest little thing I ever saw. I'm glad she's got a good home at +last." + +It was some time before Henry Burns spoke again. He seemed to be +considering something soberly. Finally he said, "Yes, and they need the +mill now, more than ever, with her to care for. I wonder if they'll ever +get it." + +The mill passed out of mind, however, for some time, when there fell +still another great snow on the following day, heavier than the +preceding storm. It piled drift upon drift, and made the roads about +Benton, for miles in every direction, impassible. It shut each farmhouse +in upon itself; the Ellisons in their home; Colonel Witham and Granny +Thornton alone in the Half Way House. The old mill was silent for a +whole week. + +Then there came a magazine to Tom Harris, bringing a timely suggestion +to the boys of Benton. It told of the snowshoe of the Norwegians, the +ski, with which a runner could travel through the deep drifts of loose +snow, and coast down the steep hills, as easily as on a toboggan. Soon, +working in spare hours, each youth had fashioned himself a pair. They +got the long, thin strips of hard wood, steamed the ends and curled them +like sled runners, sand-papered and polished them, and put on the straps +of leather to hold the toe. + +They learned how to go through the drifts with these, sliding the shoe +along through the loose snow, instead of lifting the foot, as with the +Canadian snowshoe. They got each a long pole, to steady one's self with, +and practised sliding down the terraces of Tom Harris's garden, standing +erect and doing their best to keep on their feet. + +When they had had their preliminary tumbles, and were proficient in the +sport, they started off one day and went along up stream; tried the +steep banks that led down on to that, and found it more exciting than +tobogganning. + +Tim Reardon used his skis to get up above the dams, where the +spring-holes in the stream were. And, through the Christmas holidays, he +made his headquarters at the cabin that belonged to the canoeists, which +he kept hot by a rousing fire. Day after day, he set out from there, +skiing his way up stream, dragging after him a toboggan on which was +loaded a pail half filled with water. In this swam his live bait, +winnows that he had caught through the ice in the brook. Also he carried +an axe, a borrowed ice chisel, some lines and other stuff. + +One might have seen him there, through the afternoons, watching sharply +the five lines that he tended, and varying the monotony of waiting by an +occasional ski slide down the neighbouring bank. + +He had five holes chopped through the ice, and a line set in each, +baited with a live minnow. This line was attached to a strong, limber +switch of birch, set up slant-wise over the hole, with the butt stuck +fast in a hole chopped in the ice and banked with snow. And this switch +flew a little streamer of coloured calico; so that Tim had only to see +the streamer bobbing up and down, at any distance, to know that there +was a pickerel fast on the hook. + +He had famous sport there for ten days or more, for the fish were +hungry, and bigger ones came to the bait than in summer. Every third day +he went back in to Benton with his catch, which he had kept packed in +snow, sold them at the market, and was fairly rolling in wealth; and +when, one afternoon, he hooked and landed an eight-pound fish, and +travelled to town with it, and saw it set up in the market, with a sign +on it to the effect that it had been caught by Timothy Reardon of +Benton, he was the proudest boy to be found anywhere. + +Then, just following Christmas, there was a glorious dinner up at the +Ellison farm for Henry Burns and his friends, in honour of Little Bess. +Tim got an invitation to that, too, through his loyal friends, Henry +Burns and Jack Harvey; and he and Joe Warren ate more than any four +others, and Young Joe, who had absconded with the most of a huge mince +pie, left over from the dinner, was found afterward groaning on the +kitchen sofa, and had to be dosed with ginger and peppermint, so that he +could partake of cornballs and maple candy later on. + +And there was Bess Ellison--Bess Thornton no longer--looking remarkably +pretty and uncommonly mischievous, dressed no more in dingy gingham, but +in the best Mrs. Ellison could buy and make up for her; and she held out +her hand to Henry Burns and took him in to Mrs. Ellison, who said +something to him that made him come very near blushing, and nearly lose +his customary self-control. + +There was Benny Ellison, also, who was dragged in by Bess, and made to +shake hands with Henry Burns, and call old scores off; so that even he +warmed into enthusiasm, and enjoyed himself with the others. + +Then, somewhere about that time, there was a lawyer's visit to the Half +Way House, where there were certain papers drawn up, and signed by +Granny Thornton, with a trembling hand; which made it sure that Little +Bess would no more be uncertain of her home and her parentage, but would +remain where she belonged, up at the big farmhouse. + +So the winter passed and the spring came in. Its days of thaw made the +old stream groan and crack, as the great ice fields split here and +there, and seams opened. There were nights when the water, that had +overflowed at the edge of the ice fields, close by the shore, and +formed a narrow stream on either side, froze fast again; so that there +was a glare thoroughfare for miles and miles up the stream into the +country, of ice just thick enough to bear the boys of Benton. + +They made excursions far up along shore this way, skating at furious +speed; pausing now and then to set fire to the bunches of tall dried +grasses and reeds, that protruded through the ice in the midst of the +stream. These flamed fiercely at the mere touch of a match. + +Then, as it grew later, this overflow at the edges of the ice field +froze no more; but lay, several feet deep of clear water, over that part +of the ice. They could get on to the stream then only at certain points, +where the ledges made out, or by throwing planks across. Soon the water +began to pour with a louder and louder roar over the old Ellison dam, +and a stretch of clear, swift-flowing water opened up for some distance +back of it. + +It became rare and dangerous sport, in these days, to get out on the ice +field and work at a seam with planks and poles, prying loose a great +sheet of the still thick ice, and watch it go over the dam. It had a +most spectacular and awe-inspiring way of making the plunge. A great +block of the ice, several yards square, would drift swiftly down, shoot +far over the edge, then break apart of its own weight, the huge chunks +falling with a mighty splash and commotion into the boiling pool below. +Down they would go, like monsters of the sea, borne by the momentum of +their plunge from the height. Then they would shoot upward, lift +themselves out with a dull roar amid the seething mass of water and +smaller ice, rise above the surface, fall again, and, caught in the +embrace of the swift current, go tossing and crunching down toward +Benton. + +Little Tim's sheer delight in this sport exceeded that of all others. He +displayed a recklessness that brought upon him the assertion by Jack +Harvey that he was "a double-dyed little idiot;" and Henry Burns gave +him solemn warning that some day he would go over the dam, if he didn't +stop taking chances. But they couldn't check Tim's ardour. He was the +hardest worker, with ice-chisel or pole, and the last to leave a sheet +of ice that had broken loose and started down stream. For, not always +did the ice sever at the point where they were working, but sometimes +above them; so that a sharp watch had to be kept against the danger of +being caught on an ice patch, and carried along with it. + +Then, through the days of working thus at the field, and by the natural +wearing away with the spring thaw, the water gained its freedom more and +more; so that there was now a quarter of a mile of black open water +between the dam and the edge of the ice. + +There came, then, a memorable afternoon, which had been preceded by a +day of rain, loosening up the bands of winter far and wide, raising the +water in the stream by the inrush of countless little brooks all along +its course; whereby the whole ice jam, and in some places, fields of +logs that had been stored shingle-fashion for the winter, creaked and +groaned and snapped, and the whole valley of the stream was filled with +the noise of the dissolution. Farmers and mill men eyed the scene with +some apprehension, and talked of freshet. Tim Reardon eyed it with +delight, forecasting days of warmth and fishing in store. + +The boys from Benton were upon the stream, that afternoon, though they +knew, deep in their hearts, they had no business there; that it was +dangerous; that the whole ice field was shaky. They worked at the ice +with might and main, and cheered lustily when some great cake went +tumbling over the dam. + +Then, of a sudden, there came a cry, that started somewhere on shore, +ran all along the banks of the stream and came down to the boys at their +play--a cry of alarm and warning. They looked about quickly. What was +the danger? Persons on shore were pointing far up stream. The next +instant, they discerned the whole great ice field, as far as they could +see, in motion; crumbling about the shores and heaving up into hummocks +here and there. Then they felt the ice beneath their feet moving. The +deliverance of the stream from winter was at hand. The ice was going +out. + +The wild scramble for shore was a thing not to be forgotten. Some of the +boys had travelled away up beyond the vicinity of the dam, where the +logs were stored within a boom. It was perilous footing across these, +for the few moments that it took to regain the shore. The water opened +here and there, in which the logs churned and slipped dangerously. + +It was every one for himself, then, and lucky to gain the bank without +bruises, or a ducking--or worse. It was all so sudden, so terrifying, so +confusing, that no one paused to see who else was in danger. + +But when Henry Burns and Jack Harvey and George Warren, Tom and Bob and +John Ellison had gained the shore, a cry came in that turned them. Away +over toward the other shore, they espied Little Tim and Bess Ellison +scrambling desperately. Where the girl had come from, they did not +know--only that she was there now, and in peril. + +There was no hope of their regaining the farther shore. Already the ice +had opened up to such an extent that a great gap of running water lay +between the two and that bank. Would they be able to make the flight +across? + +A cry of horror went up from shore now; for, even as the boy and girl +seemed to be nearing safety, a part of the field on which they stood +separated from the rest, and began its journey down stream. But, with +this, there was added to the dread and dismay of those who gazed the +fact that the sheet of ice held two more captives. Henry Burns and +Harvey had rushed across the ice to the rescue, only in time to be +trapped with Tim and Bess. + +They could all swim, but the attempt must have been fatal. The open +water that now lay between them and the shore was filled with small +blocks of ice, ground by the larger masses. One could not make headway +through that. Was there any chance? Little Tim saw one. + +Grasping Harvey by an arm, he pointed to a seam in the ice. "Chop there, +Jack!" he cried. "Here, Henry, take my ice-chisel; you're stronger than +I am. If we can cut loose, perhaps we can work in shore on the small +piece." + +They saw the chance--a desperate one--and took it. Holding in his hands +the chisel he had been working with, Harvey began chopping furiously at +the seam in the ice. Henry Burns, with Tim's chisel, did likewise. A few +moments' work sufficed. The section on which they stood, already half +broken away, yielded to the efforts of the two. It cracked, severed from +the larger part, teetered dangerously and drifted away. The four were +floating on a junk of ice that would just support them. + +The cry went up to get a rope; and John Ellison and George Warren darted +down along shore toward the mill. Using the blades of the heavy +long-handled chisels, as best they could, for paddles, Henry Burns and +Harvey strove to force the heavy block of ice toward shore. They +succeeded in a measure, but they were going steadily and surely down +stream. + +It seemed ages before John Ellison and George Warren emerged from the +mill. They had encountered Colonel Witham there, just as they had +gathered up a long coil of light rope. He, anxious for the fate of his +mill in the impending freshet, had not heard the cries farther up shore, +and knew nothing of what was going on. He darted after them, as he saw +them hurrying toward the door, demanding to know what they would do with +his rope. They had no time to explain. Colonel Witham found himself +shouldered out of the way, and sent spinning, by John Ellison; and when +he caught himself they were rods away. + +Standing now upon the shore, opposite the drifting cake, John Ellison +handed one end of the rope to George Warren. Taking the other end, he +separated the line into two coils, whirled one about his head and threw +it far out. It fell short, splashing into the water. He tried again, and +failed. + +[Illustration: "HE SEPARATED THE LINE INTO TWO COILS, WHIRLED ONE ABOUT +HIS HEAD AND THREW IT FAR OUT."] + +The ice raft, with its four prisoners, was driving faster now, caught by +the swifter water. It was nearing the dam. + +"Let me try once," said George Warren, as they shifted their places +farther down shore, following the ice. + +He went at it more carefully; took time to arrange the coils so they +would run free through the air; gave a hard swing to the coil in his +right hand and let it fly. Henry Burns, reaching far forward to meet the +rope, was almost on the point of grasping it; but it seemed to recede as +it fell, losing force and splashing into the water a few feet away. The +next moment, Henry Burns was overboard, in the icy water, seizing the +end before it sank, upborne as it was by floating ice. + +He fought his way back, and Harvey and Tim dragged him to safety, +chilled, and his teeth chattering. Then the four grasped the rope and +held hard. George Warren, with a sailor's instinct, had found a stout +bush by the bank and taken a few turns of the rope about that. + +The cake of ice, arrested in its course, brought up, while the swift +running current overflowed it. The four were ankle deep in water. But +the rope held. Slowly, but surely, the ice raft yielded to the strain. +It came in, out of the rush of the current, into quieter water. It +touched the shore--and the yawning brink of the dam was only a few rods +away. + +They were ashore now and running for the mill, where there was a fire +that would warm them. They were half frozen, with the chilling of the +water and with the fright. Even Colonel Witham, mindful now of the +situation, was there to let them in and allow them the warmth of the +fire. + +"You're soaking wet," he said to Henry Burns. "There's some old clothes +that Jim Ellison left, hanging in that closet on the floor above. +They'll swallow you, but they're dry." + +Henry Burns darted up the stairs. + +As he did so, the stairs trembled and shook beneath his feet. The whole +mill seemed to be quivering on its foundations. At the same moment, a +cry went up from the outside that the dam had given way. The crowd +gathered on the bank saw a piece of the dam suddenly collapse, through +which aperture a mass of logs, grinding blocks of ice and debris from up +stream tore its way. + +Then screams came from the mill. Terrified, the crowd, gazing, saw one +side of it totter and sway. The sound of wrenching timbers, collapsing +frame-work and the twisting of iron filled the air. + +Henry Burns, clutching a window frame, saw the panorama of the stream in +tumult, of the shattered dam, and of the distant shore, suddenly open up +before his eyes, as a great mass of the mill, its foundations torn away, +sagged off and plunged into the waters. He, on the upper floor, and his +companions on the floor below, found themselves at once upon the brink +of the swift-running waters of the stream, saved, as by a miracle, by +the other half of the mill remaining firm. + +Looking now upon the wreck, Henry Burns espied a strange thing. Three +pair of the huge grinding stones had gone with the destruction of that +part of the mill. One pair alone remained, just before him. It was that +pair upon which, on one occasion, James Ellison had placed his foot, in +satisfaction, and remarked that all was safe; stones that had ground no +grist for years before James Ellison's death, but which had been +disconnected from the shafting. + +Now they were half upset, and one lay wrenched from the steel thread +that had held it down close to the lower one. Thus there was disclosed a +space cut in the lower stone, that held a small tin box, such as +merchants use for papers. + +Henry Burns stared, for one brief moment, in amazement. Then, crawling +cautiously over, he seized the box and darted back to the window. He +swung himself out on to a small roof that covered the door below; hung +from that for a moment, and dropped into a heap of snow that had been +shovelled into a pile there. At the same moment, the little party on the +lower floor rushed forth into safety. + + * * * * * + +What they found in this box, a half-hour later, when it was opened +before all, in the Ellison dining-room, fairly took their breaths away; +fairly made the old house creak with the whoops that filled it; made +Mrs. Ellison weep a flood of joyous tears; nearly set John and James +Ellison clear out of their wits. + +The old mill--wrecked to be sure, but valuable still, and easily to be +restored, with the rebuilding of the dam--the old mill was theirs. There +was the deed from Colonel Witham back to James Ellison, to prove it. +There were the deeds to the lands--all theirs now; no longer Colonel +Witham's. And more, and greater still the surprise. The old inn, the +Half Way House, was not Colonel Witham's, at all. It had been James +Ellison's, and there were the papers to show that. It was theirs now, +and all the land for acres around it. They were no longer poor. James +Ellison's bank had been found at last. The old mill's secret had been +torn from hiding by the freshet. + +Some days later, following a protracted visit on the part of Lawyer +Estes to the Half Way House, there emerged from the doorway of the same, +at evening, a portly person that could not be mistaken. He brought out +the horse from the barn, harnessed it to a carriage, and drove away down +the road at a furious pace. + +The next day, Colonel Witham was missing from the inn and from Benton. + +"Have him arrested?" responded John Ellison, in answer to his brother's +query; "I don't care about that. He's gone, and good riddance. Hello, +there come Henry Burns and Jack Harvey. Let's all go down and take a +look at what's left of the mill." + +"Poor gran'," said Bess to Mrs. Ellison, half timidly, "what will become +of her now?" + +"We'll bring her up here, dear," said that motherly woman, "and take +care of her during the little life she has left. We can't leave her all +alone down there." And Bess danced gaily away to join the boys, her last +trouble gone and nothing but joy ahead. + + + +***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE RIVAL CAMPERS ASHORE*** + + +******* This file should be named 28504-8.txt or 28504-8.zip ******* + + +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: +https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/2/8/5/0/28504 + + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, +set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to +copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to +protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. 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Gowing</h1> +<pre> +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at <a href = "http://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a></pre> +<p>Title: The Rival Campers Ashore</p> +<p> The Mystery of the Mill</p> +<p>Author: Ruel Perley Smith</p> +<p>Release Date: April 5, 2009 [eBook #28504]</p> +<p>Language: English</p> +<p>Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1</p> +<p>***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE RIVAL CAMPERS ASHORE***</p> +<p> </p> +<h3>E-text prepared by Juliet Sutherland, Mary Meehan,<br /> + and the Project Gutenberg Online Distributed Proofreading Team<br /> + (http://www.pgdp.net)</h3> +<p> </p> +<hr class="full" /> +<p> </p> + +<div class="figcenter"> +<img src="images/cover.jpg" alt=""/> +</div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + + + +<h1>The Rival Campers Ashore</h1> + +<h3>Or, THE MYSTERY OF THE MILL</h3> + +<h2>By Ruel Perley Smith</h2> + +<h3>Author of "The Rival Campers Series," "Prisoners of Fortune," etc.</h3> + + +<h4>ILLUSTRATED BY</h4> + +<h4>LOUIS D. GOWING</h4> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> + +<h4>BOSTON</h4> + +<h4>THE PAGE COMPANY</h4> + +<h4>PUBLISHERS</h4> + +<h4><i>Copyright, 1907</i></h4> + +<h4><span class="smcap">By the Page Company</span></h4> + +<h4><i>Entered at Stationers' Hall, London</i></h4> + +<h4><i>All rights reserved</i></h4> + +<h4>Made in U. S. A.</h4> + +<h4>New Edition, May, 1925</h4> + +<h4>THE COLONIAL PRESS</h4> + +<h4>C. H. SIMONDS CO., BOSTON, U. S. A.</h4> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<div class="figcenter"> +<a name="illus1" id="illus1"></a> +<img src="images/illus1.jpg" alt=""/> +</div> + +<h3>"HE HANDED THE PACKAGE TO COLONEL WITHAM."</h3> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CONTENTS</h2> + +<!-- Autogenerated TOC. Modify or delete as required. --> +<p> +<a href="#CHAPTER_I">CHAPTER I. <span class="smcap">An Inland Voyage</span></a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_II">CHAPTER II. <span class="smcap">Turned Adrift</span></a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_III">CHAPTER III. <span class="smcap">The Old Mill</span></a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_IV">CHAPTER IV. <span class="smcap">The Trout Pool</span></a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_V">CHAPTER V. <span class="smcap">Some Causes of Trouble</span></a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_VI">CHAPTER VI. <span class="smcap">Capturing an Indian</span></a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_VII">CHAPTER VII. <span class="smcap">A Long Race Begun</span></a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_VIII">CHAPTER VIII. <span class="smcap">Conquering the Rapids</span></a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_IX">CHAPTER IX. <span class="smcap">An Exciting Finish</span></a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_X">CHAPTER X. <span class="smcap">Henry Burns Makes a Gift</span></a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XI">CHAPTER XI. <span class="smcap">Col. Witham Gets the Mill</span></a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XII">CHAPTER XII. <span class="smcap">The Golden Coin</span></a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XIII">CHAPTER XIII. <span class="smcap">A Sailing Adventure</span></a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XIV">CHAPTER XIV. <span class="smcap">The Fortune-teller</span></a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XV">CHAPTER XV. <span class="smcap">A Hunt Through the Mill</span></a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XVI">CHAPTER XVI. <span class="smcap">The Golden Coin Lost Again</span></a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XVII">CHAPTER XVII. <span class="smcap">A Strange Admission</span></a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XVIII">CHAPTER XVIII. <span class="smcap">Granny Thornton's Secret</span></a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XIX">CHAPTER XIX. <span class="smcap">The Mystery of the Mill</span></a><br /> +</p> +<!-- End Autogenerated TOC. --> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS</h2> + + +<p><a href="#illus1">"<span class="smcap">He handed the package to Colonel Witham</span>"</a></p> + +<p><a href="#illus2">"<span class="smcap">At the sound of the man's voice, Henry Burns and Jack Harvey had sprung +up in amazement</span>"</a></p> + +<p><a href="#illus3">"<span class="smcap">The watchers ashore saw the canoe slowly turn and face the swift +current</span>"</a></p> + +<p><a href="#illus4">"<span class="smcap">He separated the line into two coils, whirled one about his head and +threw it far out</span>"</a></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>THE RIVAL CAMPERS ASHORE</h2> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_I" id="CHAPTER_I"></a>CHAPTER I</h2> + +<h3>AN INLAND VOYAGE</h3> + + +<p>The morning train from Benton, rumbling and puffing along its way +through outlying farmland, and sending its billows of smoke like sea +rollers across the pastures, drew up, ten miles from the city, at a +little station that overlooked a pond, lying clear and sparkling at the +base of some low, wooded hills. An old-fashioned, weather-beaten house, +adjacent the station, and displaying a sign-board bearing the one word, +"Spencer's," indicated that Spencer, whoever he might prove to be, would +probably extend the hospitality of his place to travellers. Here and +there, widely scattered across the fields, were a few farmhouses.</p> + +<p>The locomotive, having announced its approach by a mingled clanging and +whistling that sent startled cattle galloping for the shelter of the +thickets, came to a dead stop at the station; but, as though to show +its realization of the insignificance of Spencer's, continued to snort +and throb impatiently. Certain important-appearing trainmen, with +sleeves rolled to the elbows, hastily throwing open the door of the +baggage-car, seemed to take the hint.</p> + +<p>Presently a trunk, turning a summersault through the air, landed, +somewhat damaged, on the platform. A few boxes and packages followed +likewise, similarly ejected. Then, through the open doorway, there +appeared the shapely, graceful bow of a canoe. Whatever treatment this +might have received, left to the tender mercies of the trainmen, can +only be imagined; for at this moment two youths, who had descended from +one of the passenger coaches, came running along the platform.</p> + +<p>"Hold on, there," said the larger of the two, addressing a man who stood +with arms upreached to catch the end of the canoe, "let me get hold with +you. We don't want to be wrecked before we start,—eh, Henry?"</p> + +<p>"Hope not," responded his companion, quietly taking the bow of the +canoe, which the larger youth relinquished to him, while the latter +stepped to the car door and put a stalwart shoulder and arm under the +stern, passed to him by a man inside.</p> + +<p>Together, the two boys deposited their craft gently on a patch of grass +near-by; the locomotive puffed away from Spencer's, dragging its train; +the station agent resumed his interrupted pipe. Soon the only sounds +that broke the stillness of the place were the clickings of a single +telegraph instrument in the station and the scoffing voices of a few +crows, circling about the tops of some pine trees that overlooked the +farmhouse.</p> + +<p>The prospect that met the eyes of the boys was most enticing. On one +hand lay the little pond, reflecting some great patches of cloud that +flecked the sky. All about them, as far as eye could discern, stretched +the country, rolling and irregular, meadow and pasture, corn and wheat +land, and groves of maple, pine and birch.</p> + +<p>Flowing into the pond, a thin, shadowy stream wound its way through +alders and rushes, coming down along past Spencer's, invitingly from the +fields and hills. It was the principal inlet of the pond, flowing hence +from another and larger pond some miles to the westward.</p> + +<p>"Well, Henry, what do you say?" said the larger boy. "Looks great, +doesn't it?"</p> + +<p>"Ripping, Jack!" exclaimed the other. "I feel like paddling a mile a +minute. Let's pick her up and get afloat."</p> + +<p>They reached for the "her" referred to—the light canoe—when the +station agent, welcoming even this trifling relief from the monotony of +Spencer's, approached them.</p> + +<p>"That's a right nice craft of yours," he remarked, eying it curiously. +"Going on the pond?"</p> + +<p>"No, we're going around through the streams to Benton," replied the +elder boy. "Think there's water enough to float us?"</p> + +<p>"Why, p'raps," said the station agent. "It's a long jaunt, +though—twenty-five or thirty miles, I reckon. Calc'late to do it in one +day?"</p> + +<p>"Why, yes, and home in time for a late supper. We didn't think it was +quite so far as that, though. How far do you call it to the brook that +leads over into Dark Stream?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, two or three miles—ask Spencer. He knows more'n I do 'bout it."</p> + +<p>Spencer, a deliberate, sleepily-inclined individual, much preoccupied +with a jack-knife and a shingle, "allowed" the distance to be a matter +of from a mile and a half, to two miles, or "mebbe" two and a half.</p> + +<p>"Henry Burns, old chap, get hold of that canoe and let's scoot," +exclaimed his companion, laughing. "Tom and Bob said 'twas a mile. +Probably everyone we'd ask would say something different. If we keep on +asking questions, we'll go wrong, sure."</p> + +<p>Henry Burns's response was to pick up his end of the canoe, and they +went cautiously down through the tangle of grasses to the stream. The +buoyant craft rested lightly on its surface; they stepped aboard, Henry +Burns in the bow, his companion, Jack Harvey, in the stern, dipped their +paddles joyously together, and went swiftly on their way.</p> + +<p>It was about half-past seven o'clock of a June morning. The sun was +lightening the landscape, yet it was by no means clear. The day had, in +fact, come in foggy, and the mist was slow in burning off from the +hills. Often, at intervals, it hung over the water like a thin curtain. +But the mystery of an unknown stream, hidden by the banks along which it +wound deviously, with many a sharp twist and turn, tempted them ever to +vigorous exertion.</p> + +<p>Just a little way ahead, and it seemed as though the narrow stream were +ending against a bank of green. Then, as they approached, an abrupt +swerving of the stream one way or the other, opened up the course anew +for them. This was a matter of constant repetition. Theirs were the +delights, without danger, of exploration.</p> + +<p>"Warming up a bit, isn't it, Jack?" said Henry Burns, laying aside his +paddle for a moment and peeling off a somewhat dingy sweater. "I'm not +so sure about getting the sun for long, though."</p> + +<p>"Nor I," replied his companion, driving the canoe swiftly with his +single paddle till the other had freed himself of his garment and was +braced, steadily, once more; when he, too, laid his paddle across the +gunwales and stripped for the work. "I don't just like the looks of +those clouds. If we were in the old Viking now, I'd say put on all sail +and make for harbour; for it looks like rain by and by, but no wind."</p> + +<p>"Well, this is all one big harbour from here to Benton," laughed Henry +Burns. "Avast, I sight a cow off the port bow. Never mind the cow? All +right, on we go. If it rains hard, we'll run ashore and hunt for a barn. +Wouldn't Tom Harris and Bob White laugh to see us poking back by train, +instead of making the trip?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, we won't turn back," said Harvey. "Besides, there's no train in to +Benton till night. Fancy spending the day at Spencer's station! It's +through the streams for us now, rain or shine."</p> + +<p>As though to demonstrate more fully his determination, Harvey dipped +with a sharper, quicker stroke, put the strength of two muscular arms +into his work, and they sped quickly past the turns of their winding +course. Perhaps either Tom Harris or Bob White, of whom Henry Burns had +spoken, might have wielded the paddles with a bit more of skill, have +kept the course a little straighter, or skimmed the turns a trifle more +close; but neither could have put more of life and vim into the strokes. +A large, thick-set youth was Harvey, strongly built, with arms bronzed +and sinewy—clearly a youth who had lived much out of doors, and had +developed in sun and air.</p> + +<p>Harvey's companion was considerably slighter of build, but of a +well-knit figure, whose muscles, while not so pronounced, played quickly +and easily; and whose whole manner suggested somehow a reserve strength, +and a physique capable of much endurance.</p> + +<p>Had they possessed, however, more of that same skill and familiarity +with canoeing which comes only with practice, they would have perceived +more clearly the speed with which they were travelling, and how great a +distance already lay between them and the point where they had embarked.</p> + +<p>"Queer we don't come to that inlet," remarked Harvey, at length. "I +haven't seen anything that looked like the land-arks: the two houses, +the road and a bridge, that Tom spoke of."</p> + +<p>"No," replied Henry Burns, but added, reflectively, "unless we passed +them at least three-quarters of a mile back. But there wasn't any inlet +there. Hang it! Do you suppose Spencer was right after all?"</p> + +<p>"May be," said Harvey. "Let's hit it up a little harder; but watch sharp +for the brook."</p> + +<p>"Aye, aye, skipper," said Henry Burns.</p> + +<p>But at this moment the glassy surface of the stream dimpled all over +with the sudden fall of raindrops; a compact, heavy cloud wheeled +directly overhead and poured its contents upon them, while, afar off, +the fields were still lit with patches of sunlight. They scrambled as +hastily as they could into their sweaters again.</p> + +<p>"Let it come," said Henry Burns, resuming his wet paddle; "it's only a +cloud-bank that's caught us. We'll work out of it if we keep on. Then +the sun will dry us."</p> + +<p>They pushed on in the rain, peering eagerly ahead for some signs of the +landmarks that would show them the brook. Then, all at once, to their +amazement, the stream they were following divided into two forks; the +one at the right coming down from higher land, broken in its course, as +far as they could see, by stones and boulders that made it impassable +even for the light canoe; the other branch emerging from a thick tangle +of overhanging alders and willows.</p> + +<p>"Well now, what do you make of that?" cried Harvey, in disgust. "That +can't be the brook, to the right, and the other doesn't look as though +it led anywhere in particular." He stopped paddling, and squeezed the +water out of his cap.</p> + +<p>"We've come past the brook," replied Henry Burns. "It's rainy-day luck. +We've got to go up to that farmhouse on the hill and find out where we +are."</p> + +<p>"I haven't seen a farmhouse for more than half an hour," exclaimed +Harvey.</p> + +<p>"No, but there are cattle in that pasture, and a track going up through +the grove," said Henry Burns. "We'll follow that. It won't be any +blinder than this stream."</p> + +<p>They brought the canoe in upon the muddy bank, slumped into the ooze, +pulled the canoe half out of water and started off.</p> + +<p>"Nice trip!" said Henry Burns. "And the worst of it is, I have a +suspicion I know just where that brook is. I can see it now. There was a +tiny bit of a cove, a lot of rushes growing there, and two houses back +about a quarter of a mile. But it was dry—no water running—and it was +so near the station I didn't suppose that could be the place."</p> + +<p>"It isn't so dry by this time," remarked Harvey.</p> + +<p>"No, and neither are we," said Henry Burns. "Look out!"</p> + +<p>He dragged one leg out from a mud-hole into which he had sunk to the +knee. The path they were following led through clumps of fern and +brake, almost waist high. These, dripping with rain, drenched them as +they pushed their way through. Some fifteen minutes of hard travelling +brought them to a little rise of land, from the top of which they could +see, down in a valley beyond, a farmhouse.</p> + +<p>"More wet day luck," muttered Harvey. "We're in for it, though. It's a +good half mile more."</p> + +<p>They tramped on, in silence. The particular cloud that had first wet +them had blended much with others by this time, and it was still +raining. But they came up to the house soon, and, the big barn door +standing open invitingly, they entered there. A man and two boys, busily +engaged mending a harness, looked up in surprise.</p> + +<p>"Sort er wet," the man commented. "Come from the city, eh? Well, I guess +it's only a shower. What's that? The brook that runs into Dark Stream! +Huh! You're two miles past it."</p> + +<p>Henry Burns and Harvey looked at each other helplessly. Then Harvey +grinned.</p> + +<p>"It's so tough, it's almost a joke, Henry," he said.</p> + +<p>"Great—if it had only happened to somebody else, say your friend Harry +Brackett," replied Henry Burns. "Guess we won't tell much about this +part of the trip to Tom and Bob, though. What do you want to do, go back +to the station, or keep on?"</p> + +<p>"Back!" exclaimed Harvey. "Say, I'm so mad, I'd keep on now if every +drop of rain was as big as a base-ball. I'll never go back, if it takes +a week—that is, if you're game?"</p> + +<p>"Come on," said Henry Burns quietly.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_II" id="CHAPTER_II"></a>CHAPTER II</h2> + +<h3>TURNED ADRIFT</h3> + + +<p>Soon they were on their way again, with the sky lightening a little and +the rain almost ceased. They plunged through the tangle of dripping +brakes, down to the shore; pushed off once more in midstream, and +started back the way they had come.</p> + +<p>There was not quite so much spirit to their paddling as there had been +on the way up. Every stroke had meant to their minds, then, just so much +of their journey accomplished. Now they knew they were striving only to +put themselves on the right track again, and that there would be four +wet miles of wasted effort. However, they were still strong, and the +canoe went rapidly down stream.</p> + +<p>The two miles seemed nearer four when Henry Burns suddenly pointed with +his paddle ahead and said, soberly, "There's the place, Jack. I saw it, +coming up, but I thought it was only a patch of bull-rushes. We can't +get a canoe through, anyway. Let's go ashore and have a look at the +country."</p> + +<p>They paddled in and scrambled up the bank. Sure enough, there was what +would be a small brook, at some stages of water, coming in from across +country; doubtless with water enough, in the spring of the year, to +float a canoe; but now impassable. They followed it up through a wheat +field to a road, from which, to their relief, a stream of about the +dimensions of the one they had been following—not quite so large—was +to be seen. A horse drawing a wagon at a jog trot came down the road, +and they accosted the occupant of the seat.</p> + +<p>"How many miles to Mill Stream by the way of Dark Stream?" he said, +repeating their question. "Well, I reckon it's fifteen or sixteen. Water +enough? Oh, yes, mebbe, except p'raps in spots. Goin' round to Benton, +you say? Sho! Don't esactly envy yer the jaunt. Guess there'll be more +rain bime-by. Good day. Giddap."</p> + +<p>"Wall, I reckon," said Henry Burns, dryly, imitating the man's manner of +speech, "that I don't ask any more of these farmers how many miles we've +got to travel. According to his reckoning, we'd get to Benton sometime +to-morrow night. The next man might say 'twas fifty miles to Benton, and +then you'd want to turn back."</p> + +<p>"Never!" exclaimed Jack Harvey, grimly. "Let's go for the canoe."</p> + +<p>They got the canoe on their shoulders, and made short work of the carry. +But it was after ten o'clock when they set their craft afloat in Dark +Stream; and the real work of the day had just begun.</p> + +<p>Knowing they were really on the right course, however, cheered them.</p> + +<p>"Say," cried Harvey, in a sudden burst of enthusiasm, "we'll not stop at +Benton, at all, perhaps; just keep on paddling down Mill Stream past the +city, down into Samoset river, into the bay, and out to Grand Island. +Make a week of it."</p> + +<p>But even as he spoke, a big rain drop splashed on his cheek, and another +storm burst over them. Down it came in torrents; a summer rainfall to +delight the heart of a farmer with growing crops; a shower that fairly +bent the grass in the fields with its weight; that made a tiny lake in +the bottom of the canoe, flooded back around Harvey's knees in the +stern, and which trickled copiously down the backs of the two boys +underneath their sweaters.</p> + +<p>"What was you saying about Grand Island, Jack?" inquired Henry Burns, +slyly.</p> + +<p>"Grand Island be hanged!" said Harvey. "When I start for there, I'll go +in a boat that's got a cabin. I guess Benton will do for us."</p> + +<p>They looked about for shelter, but there were woods now on both sides of +the stream, and through them they could get no glimpse of any farmhouse.</p> + +<p>"Well, I wouldn't go into one if I saw it, now!" exclaimed Harvey. "I +can't get any wetter. Pretty soon we'll begin to like it. I'll catch a +fish, anyway. This rain will make 'em bite."</p> + +<p>He unwound a line from a reel, attached a spoon-hook, cast it over and +began to troll astern, far in the wake of the canoe. It was, in truth, +an ideal day for fishing, and the first clump of lily pads they passed +yielded them a big pickerel. He came in fighting and tumbling, making +the worst of his struggle—after the manner of pickerel—when he was +fairly aboard. Once free of the hook, he dropped down into the puddle in +the canoe and lashed the water with his tail so that it spattered in +Jack Harvey's face worse than the rain. Harvey despatched the fish with +a few blows of his paddle.</p> + +<p>"Guess I won't catch another," he said shortly. "I can't stand a shower +coming both ways at once."</p> + +<p>Henry Burns chuckled quietly to himself. "Let's empty her out," he +suggested.</p> + +<p>They ran the canoe ashore, took hold at either end, inverted the craft +and let the water drain out. Then they went on again. It was a fair and +pretty country through which the stream threaded its way, with countless +windings and twistings; but the rain dimmed and faded its beauties now. +They thought only of making progress. Yet the rain was warm, they could +not be chilled while paddling vigorously, and Henry Burns said he was +beginning to like it.</p> + +<p>Presently, in the far distance, a village clock sounded the hour. It +struck twelve o'clock.</p> + +<p>"My, I didn't know it was getting so late," said Henry Burns. "What do +you say to a bite to eat?"</p> + +<p>"I could eat that fish raw," said Harvey.</p> + +<p>"No need. We'll cook him," responded Henry Burns. "There's the place," +and he pointed in toward a grove of evergreens and birches. "That +village is a mile off. We don't want another walk through this drenching +country."</p> + +<p>They were only too glad to jump out ashore.</p> + +<p>"You get the wood, Jack, and I'll rig up the shelter and clean the +fish," said Henry Burns. Drawing out a small bag made of light duck from +one end of the canoe, they untied it and took therefrom two small +hatchets, a coil of stout cord, a fry-pan, a knife and fork apiece and a +strip of bacon; likewise a large and a small bottle. The larger +contained coffee; the smaller, matches. They examined the latter +anxiously.</p> + +<p>"They're all right," said Harvey, shaking the bottle. "Carry your +matches in a bottle, on a leaky boat and in the woods. I've been in +both."</p> + +<p>Taking the cord and one of the hatchets, Henry Burns proceeded to +stretch a line between two trees; then interlacing the line, on a slant +between other trees, he constructed a slight network; upon which, after +an excursion amid the surrounding woods, he laid a sort of thatch of +boughs.</p> + +<p>"That's not the best shelter I ever saw," he said at length, surveying +his work, "but it will keep off the worst of the rain."</p> + +<p>It did, in fact, answer fairly well, with the added protection of the +heavy branches overhead.</p> + +<p>In the mean time, Harvey, having hunted for some distance, had found +what he wanted—a dead tree, not so old as to be rotten, but easy to cut +and split. Into the heart of this he went with his hatchet, and quickly +got an armful of dry fire-wood. He came running back with the wood, and +a few sheets of birch-bark—the inner part of the bark—with the wet, +outer layer carefully stripped off. They had a blaze going quickly, +with this, beneath the shelter of boughs.</p> + +<p>They put the bacon on to fry, and pieces of the fish, cut thin with a +keen hunting-knife. The coffee, poured from the bottle into a tin +dipper, they set near the blaze, on some brands. They they gazed out +upon the drizzle, as the dinner cooked.</p> + +<p>Harvey shook his head, gloomily.</p> + +<p>"We're in for it," he said. "It's settled down for an all day's rain."</p> + +<p>"I hope so," responded Henry Burns, with a twinkle in his eye, "I like +it—but I wish I could feel just one dry spot on my back."</p> + +<p>They ate their dinner of fried bacon and pickerel and coffee beside a +fire that blazed cheerily, despite an occasional sputtering caused by +the rain dripping through; and when they had got half dry and had +started forth once more into the rain, they were in good spirits. But +the first ten minutes of paddling found them drenched to the skin again.</p> + +<p>They ran some small rapids after a time, and later carried around a +little dam. The afternoon waned, and the windings of the stream seemed +endless. It was three o'clock when, at a sudden turn to the right, which +was to the eastward, they came upon another stream flowing in and +mingling with the one they were following. Thenceforth the two ran as +one stream, the banks widening perceptibly, the stream flowing far more +broadly, and with increased depth and strength. The way from now on was +to the eastward some three or four miles, and then almost due south to +Benton, a distance of ten of eleven miles more.</p> + +<p>They were soon running swiftly with the current, shooting rapids, at +times, of an eighth of a mile in length, going very carefully not to +scrape on submerged rocks. And still the rain fell. There were two dams +to carry around, and they did this somewhat drearily, trudging along the +muddy shores, climbing the slippery banks with difficulty, and with some +danger of falling and smashing their canoe.</p> + +<p>Five, six and seven o'clock came; darkness was shutting in, and they +were three miles from Benton. To make matters worse, with the falling of +night the rain increased, pouring in such torrents that they had +frequently to pause and empty out their canoe.</p> + +<p>A few minutes after seven, and a light gleamed from a window a little +distance back from the stream, less than a quarter of a mile.</p> + +<p>"There's our lodgings for the night, Jack," said Henry Burns, pointing +up through the rain. "I don't mind saying I've had enough. It's three +miles yet to Benton, or nearly that, there are three more dams, and as +for walking, the road must be a bog-hole."</p> + +<p>"I'm with you," responded Harvey. "If it's a lodging house, I've the +money to pay—three dollars in the oiled silk wallet. If it's a +farmhouse, we'll stay, if we have to sleep in the barn."</p> + +<p>Presently they perceived a landing, with several rowboats tied up. They +ran in alongside this, drew their canoe clear up on to the float, turned +it over, and walked rapidly up toward the house from which the light +shone.</p> + +<p>"We're in luck for once," said Harvey. "There's a sign over the door."</p> + +<p>The sign, indeed, seemed to offer them some sort of welcome. It bore an +enormous hand pointing inward, and the inscription, "Half Way House."</p> + +<p>"I wonder what it's half way between," said Henry Burns, as they paused +a moment on the threshold of the door. "Half way between the sky and +China, I guess. But I don't care, if the roof doesn't leak."</p> + +<p>The picture, as they entered, was, in truth, one to cheer the most +wretched. Directly in front of them, in line with the door, a fire of +hickory logs roared in an old-fashioned brick fireplace, lighting up the +hotel office almost as much as did the two kerosene lamps, disposed at +either end. An old woman, dozing comfortably in a big rocking chair +before the blaze, jumped up at their appearance.</p> + +<p>"Land sakes!" she ejaculated, querulously. "What a night to be comin' in +upon us! Dear! Dear! Want to stay over night, you say? Well, if that +ain't like boys—canooering, you call it, in this mess of a rain. +Gracious me, but you're wet to the skin, both er yer. Well, take them +wooden chairs, as won't be spoiled with water, and sit up by the fire +till I make a new pot of coffee and warm up a bit of stew and fry a bit +of bacon. Canooering in this weather! Well, that beats me."</p> + +<p>"The proprietor, you say? Well, he's up the road, but he'll be in, +soon. You can pay me for the supper, and fix 'bout the stay in' over +night with him. I jes' tend to the cookin'. That's all I do."</p> + +<p>She called them to supper in the course of a quarter of an hour, and had +clearly done her best for them. There was coffee, steaming hot, and +biscuit, warmed up to a crisp; bacon, freshly fried, with eggs; a dish +of home-made preserves, and a sheet of gingerbread.</p> + +<p>"Eat all yer can hold," she chuckled, as they fell to, hungry as +panthers. "Canooering's good fer the appertite, ain't it? It's plain +vittles, but I reckon the cookin's good as the most of 'em, if I say it, +who shouldn't."</p> + +<p>She rambled on, somewhat garrulously, as the boys ate. They did full +justice to the cooking, stuffed themselves till Henry Burns said he +could feel his skin stretch; paid the old woman her price for the +meal—"twenty-five cents apiece, an' it couldn't be done for less"—and +went and seated themselves comfortably once more by the fire in the +office. They settled themselves back comfortably.</p> + +<p>"Arms ache?" inquired Harvey of his comrade.</p> + +<p>"No," replied Henry Burns, "but I don't mind saying I'm tired. I +wouldn't stir out of this place again to-night for sixteen billion +dol—"</p> + +<p>The door opened, and a bulky, red-faced man entered, stamping, shaking +the rain from his clothing like a big Newfoundland dog, and railing +ill-naturedly at the weather.</p> + +<p>"It's a vile night, gran'," he exclaimed; then espying his two +newly-arrived guests, he assumed a more cordial tone.</p> + +<p>"Good evening. Good evening, young gentlemen," he said. "Glad you got in +out of the storm—hello! what's this? Well, if it don't beat me!"</p> + +<p>At the sound of the man's voice, Henry Burns and Jack Harvey had sprung +up in amazement. They stood beside their chairs, eying the proprietor of +the Half Way House, curiously. He, in turn, glared at them in +astonishment, fully equal to theirs, while his red face went from its +normal fiery hue to deep purple, and his hands clenched.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<div class="figcenter"> +<a name="illus2" id="illus2"></a> +<img src="images/illus2.jpg" alt=""/> +</div> + +<h3>"AT THE SOUND OF THE MAN'S VOICE, HENRY BURNS AND JACK +HARVEY HAD SPRUNG UP IN AMAZEMENT."</h3> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + + +<p>"Colonel Witham!" they exclaimed, in the same breath.</p> + +<p>"What are you two doing here?" he cried.</p> + +<p>"What new monkey-shine of yours is this? Don't you know I won't have any +Henry Burnses and Jack Harveys, nor any of the rest of you, around my +hotel? Didn't yer get satisfaction enough out of bringing bad luck to me +in one place, and now you come bringing it here? Get out, is what I say +to you, and get out quick!"</p> + +<p>"You keep away, gran'," he cried to the woman, who had stepped forward. +"Don't you go interfering. It's my hotel; and I wouldn't care if 'twas +raining a bucket a drop and coming forty times as hard. I'd put 'em out +er doors, neck and crop. Get out, I say, and don't ever step a foot +around here again."</p> + +<p>Henry Burns and Jack Harvey stood for a moment, gazing in perplexity at +each other.</p> + +<p>"Shall we go, or stick it out?" asked Harvey, in a low voice.</p> + +<p>"Why, it's a public house, and I don't believe he has a right to throw +us out this way," said Henry Burns. "But it means a fight, sure, if we +try to stay. I guess we better quit. It's his own place, and he's a +rough man when he's angered."</p> + +<p>Ruefully pulling on their sweaters—at least dry once more—and taking +their paddles, which they had brought with them, from behind the door, +they went out into the night, into the driving rain.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_III" id="CHAPTER_III"></a>CHAPTER III</h2> + +<h3>THE OLD MILL</h3> + + +<p>The two boys, thus most unexpectedly evicted, stood disconsolately on +the porch of the Half Way House, peering out into the storm. The +character of it had changed somewhat, the rain driving fiercely now and +then, with an occasional quick flaw of wind, instead of falling +monotonously. And now there came a few rumblings of thunder, with faint +flashes of lightning low in the sky.</p> + +<p>"Well, Jack," said Henry Burns, at length, speaking with more than his +customary deliberation, "wet night luck seems to be worse even than wet +day luck. But who'd ever thought we'd have such tough luck as to run +across Col. Witham up here, and a night like this? The boys never said +anything about his being here."</p> + +<p>"No—and he's got no right to put us out!" cried Harvey. "If you'll +stand by, I'll go back into that office and tell him what I think of +him."</p> + +<p>"He knows that already," replied Henry Burns, coolly. "Wouldn't be any +news to him. Say, I see a light way up on the hill to the left. Suppose +we try them there. I wish we could see the road and the paths better, +so as to know where we are."</p> + +<p>As though almost in answer to this wish, a brilliant flash of lightning +illumined the whole sky; and, for a brief moment, there stood clearly +outlined before them, like a huge magic-lantern picture, the prominent +features of the landscape.</p> + +<p>Past the hotel where they stood, the highway ran, gleaming now with +pools of water. Some way down the road, the land descended to a narrow +intervale through which a brook flowed, with a rude wooden bridge thrown +across in line with the road. Farther still down the road, and a little +off from it, beside the larger stream which they had travelled all day, +an old mill squatted close to the water, hard by the brink of a dam. +Away up on the hillside, some three quarters of a mile off, a farmhouse +gave them a fleeting glimpse of its gables and chimneys. Then the +picture vanished and the black curtain of the night fell again.</p> + +<p>"All right," assented Harvey, to the reply of his comrade, "I suppose we +better go without a fuss. It isn't getting out in the rain here that +makes me maddest. It's to think of Col. Witham chuckling over it in +there, snug and dry."</p> + +<p>"He isn't," said Henry Burns. "He never chuckles over anything. He's +madder than we are, because we got our suppers and a drying out. Come +on, dive in. It's always the first plunge that's worst."</p> + +<p>They stepped forth into the rain and began walking briskly down the +road. They had gone scarcely more than a rod, however, when something +brushed against Jack Harvey, and a hand was laid lightly on his arm. He +jumped back in some alarm, for they had heard no footsteps, nor dreamed +of anybody being near.</p> + +<p>To their relief, a girl's merry peal of laughter—coming oddly enough +from out the storm—sounded in their ears; and a slight, quaint little +figure stood in the road before them.</p> + +<p>"Oh, how you did jump!" she exclaimed, and laughed again, like some +weird mite of a water-sprite, pleased to have frightened so sturdy a +chap as Jack Harvey. "I won't hurt you," she continued, half-mockingly. +"I'm Bess Thornton. Gran' got the supper for you. Oh, but I'm just +furious at Witham for being so mean."</p> + +<p>Henry Burns and Harvey, taken all by surprise, stood staring in +amazement. A faint glimmering in the sky came to their aid and they +discerned, indistinctly, a girl, barefoot and hatless, of age perhaps +twelve, poorly dressed in a gingham frock, apparently as unmindful of +the rain as though she were, indeed, a water-sprite.</p> + +<p>"Well, what is it?" asked Henry Burns. "Witham doesn't say come back, +does he?"</p> + +<p>"Not he!" cried the little creature, impetuously, "Oh, the old +bogey-man! He's worse than the wicked giant in the book. I wish I was a +Jack-the-giant-killer. I'd—"</p> + +<p>Words apparently failing her to express a punishment fitting for Col. +Witham, the child shook a not very formidable fist in the direction of +the tavern, then added, sharply, "Where are you going?"</p> + +<p>"Up to that house on the hill," said Harvey. "They'll take us in there, +won't they?"</p> + +<p>The answer was not encouraging.</p> + +<p>"No-o-o, not much he won't," cried the girl. "Oh, don't you know old +Farmer Ellison? He's worse than Witham. He hates you."</p> + +<p>"Guess not," said Henry Burns. "We never saw him."</p> + +<p>"No, but you're from the city," said the child. "He hates all of you. +Haven't I heard him say so, and shake his old cane at Benton? He'll cane +you. He'll set the collies on you—"</p> + +<p>"I'd like to meet anything that I could kick!" cried Harvey, clenching +his fist. "What kind of a place is this we've got into? That's what I'd +like to know. Henry, where in this old mud-hole shall we go? Think of +it! Three miles to Benton on this road."</p> + +<p>"That's what I've come to tell you," said the child, "though I'd catch +it from Witham if he knew—and old Ellison, wouldn't he be mad?"</p> + +<p>The very idea seemed to afford her merriment, and she laughed again. +"Come, hurry along with me," she continued. "It's the old mill. I know +the way in, and there's a warm fire there. You'll have to run, though, +for I'm getting soaked through." And she started off ahead of them, like +a will-o'-the-wisp.</p> + +<p>"Here, hold on a minute," called Henry Burns, who had gallantly +divested himself of his sweater, while the rain drops splashed coldly on +his bare arms. "Put this on. I don't need it."</p> + +<p>But she tripped on, unheeding; and twice, in their strange flight toward +the mill, the lightning revealed her to them—a flitting, odd little +thing, like a figure in a dream. Indeed, when they saw her, darting +across the bridge over the brook, just ahead of them, they would +scarcely have been surprised had she vanished, as witches do that dare +not cross running water.</p> + +<p>But she kept on, and they came presently, all out of breath, in the +shadow of the old mill. The three gained the shelter of a roof +overhanging a narrow platform that ran along one side, and paused for a +moment to rest.</p> + +<p>It was a dismal place, by night, but the child seemed at ease and +without fear.</p> + +<p>"I know every inch of the old mill," she said, as though by way of +reassurance. "You've just got to look out where you step, and you're all +right."</p> + +<p>Had it not offered some sort of shelter from the storm, however, the +place would hardly have appealed to Harvey and Henry Burns. The aged +building seemed to creak and sway in the wind, as though it might fall +apart from weakness and topple into the water. The stream plunged over +the dam with a sullen roar, much as if it chafed at the barrier and +longed to sweep it altogether from its course and carry its timbers with +it. Once the lightning flashed into and through all the cobwebbed +window-panes, and the mill gave out a ghastly glare.</p> + +<p>"Nice, cheerful place for a night's lodging," remarked Henry Burns. +"Perhaps we'd better roost right here. I don't exactly take a fancy to +the rickety old shell."</p> + +<p>"Oh, but it's lovely when you're inside," exclaimed the child, almost +reprovingly. "There's the meal-bags to sleep on. And look, you can see +the stove, in through the window, red with the fire. It keeps things dry +in the mill. I've slept there twice, when gran' was after me with a +stick."</p> + +<p>"All alone?" asked Henry Burns, looking at the child wonderingly, and +feeling a sudden pity for her.</p> + +<p>"Why yes," said she. "There's nothing to be afraid of—only rats. Ugh! I +hate rats. Don't you?"</p> + +<p>"Go ahead," said Henry Burns, stoutly. "We'll follow you. It looks like +a real nice place, don't it, Jack?"</p> + +<p>"Perhaps," muttered Harvey.</p> + +<p>The girl crept along the platform and descended a short flight of steps +that led to the mill flume—a long box-like sluice-way that carried the +water in to turn the mill wheels. These wheels were silent now, for two +great gates at the end of the flume barred out the waters. The girl +tripped lightly along a single plank that extended over the flume. The +boys followed cautiously.</p> + +<p>"Can you swim?" asked Harvey.</p> + +<p>"Why, of course," said she.</p> + +<p>Presently she paused, took a few steps across a plank that led to a +window, raised that, climbed in and disappeared.</p> + +<p>"Come on," she called softly. "I'll show you where to step."</p> + +<p>"Whew!" exclaimed Harvey. "This is worse than a gale in Samoset Bay."</p> + +<p>"Oh, it's lovely when you get inside," said Henry Burns—"all except the +rats. Come along."</p> + +<p>They climbed in through the window, dropping on to a single plank on the +other side, by the child's direction.</p> + +<p>"Now stay here," she said, "till I come back."</p> + +<p>It was pitch dark and they could not see where they were; but they could +hear her light steps as she made her way in through the mill and +disappeared.</p> + +<p>"She'll never come back," exclaimed Harvey. "Say, wake me up with a +good, hard punch, will you, Henry? I know I'm dreaming."</p> + +<p>But now they perceived the dull glimmer of a lantern, turned low, being +borne toward them by an unseen hand. Then the figure of the girl +appeared, and soon the lantern's rays lighted up vaguely the interior of +the mill.</p> + +<p>They were, it proved, still outside the grinding-rooms, in that part of +the mill where the water would pour in to turn the wheels. It was gaunt +and unfinished, filled with the sound of dripping waters; with no +flooring, but only a scanty network of beams and planking for them to +thread their way across.</p> + +<p>They followed the child now over these, and came quickly to a small +sliding door, past which they entered the main room on the first floor. +There, in truth, it would seem they might not be uncomfortably housed +for the night. A small box-stove, reddened in patches by the burning +coals within, shed warmth throughout the room. There were heaps of empty +meal-bags lying here and there. And, for certain, there was no rain +coming in.</p> + +<p>And now, having been guided by their new acquaintance to their lodgings, +so strangely, they found themselves, almost on the moment, deserted.</p> + +<p>"Here you are," said the child, with somewhat of a touch of pride in her +voice. "Didn't I say I'd get you in all right? Don't turn that light up +too bright. Someone might see it from the road. And get out early in the +morning, before old Ellison comes. Good night and sleep tight. And don't +you ever, ever tell, or I'll catch it. I don't need the lantern. I can +feel my way."</p> + +<p>The next moment she was gone. They would have detained her, to ask more +about herself; about the mill wherein they were; to ask about Ellison, +the owner. But it was too late. They heard her steps, faintly, as she +traversed the dangerous network of planking, and then only the steady, +dripping sound came in through the little doorway.</p> + +<p>"Well," exclaimed Harvey, throwing himself down on a pile of meal-bags, +close by the fire, "this isn't the worst place I ever got into, if it is +old and rickety. Don't that fire feel good?"</p> + +<p>He drew off his dripping sweater and hung it on a box, which he set +near, and rubbed his arms vigorously.</p> + +<p>"This is such a funny old room I can't keep still in it," he continued. +"The fire feels great, but I want to explore and see what kind of a +place I'm in."</p> + +<p>"Oh, sit down and be comfortable," replied Henry Burns. "Just make +believe you're in the cabin of the <i>Viking</i>."</p> + +<p>"Say, Henry," exclaimed Harvey warmly to his friend's reply, "do you +know I'm half sorry we let the <i>Viking</i> go for the summer. Of course +'twas mighty nice of Tom and Bob to ask us to spend the summer in Benton +with them; but I don't know as canoeing and fishing and that sort of +thing will do for us. I'd like to have a hand on the old <i>Viking's</i> +wheel right now."</p> + +<p>"Oh, we'll get sailing, too," answered Henry Burns. "We're going to try +the pond, you know. Hello, there's a wheel, now. Looks like a ship's +wheel, at that—only rougher. You can stand your trick at that, if you +want to, while I sit by the fire."</p> + +<p>He was sorry he spoke, the next moment, for Harvey—never too +cautious—gave a roar of delight, and darted over to where his friend +had pointed.</p> + +<p>There, attached to a small shaft that protruded from the wooden +partition which divided the two lower rooms of the mill, was a large, +wooden wheel, with a series of wooden spokes attached to its rim, after +the manner of a ship's wheel.</p> + +<p>"Hooray!" bawled Harvey, seizing the wheel and giving it several +vigorous turns, "keep her off, did you say, skipper? Ay, ay, we'll clear +the breakers now, with water to spare.</p> + +<p>"Here you," addressing an imaginary sailor, "get forward lively and +clear that jib-sheet; and look out for the block. Hanged if we want a +man overboard a night like this, eh, Mister Burns?"</p> + +<p>"Say, Jack, I wouldn't do that," replied Henry Burns, laughing at his +comrade's antics. "You don't know what that may turn."</p> + +<p>"Don't I, though!" roared Harvey, jamming the wheel around with a few +more turns. "Why, you land-lubber, it turns the ship, same as any wheel. +This is the good ship, <i>Rattle-Bones</i>, bound from Benton to Boston, with +a cargo of meal—and rats. We've lost our pilot, Bess—what's her +name—and we've got to put her through ourselves.</p> + +<p>"Hello!" he cried suddenly, checking himself in the midst of his +nonsense and listening intently. "What's that noise? Henry, no joking, I +hear breakers off the port bow. We're going aground, or the ship's +leaking."</p> + +<p>Henry Burns sprang up, and both boys stood, wondering.</p> + +<p>Out of the darkness of the other part of the mill there came in a sound +of rushing water, plainly distinguishable above the roar of the water +flowing over the dam, and the dashing rain and the gusts of wind. Then, +as they stood, listening curiously, there came a deep, rumbling sound +out of the very vitals of the old mill; there was a gentle quivering +throughout all its timbers; a groaning in all its aged structure; a +whirring, droning sound—the wheels of the mill were turning, and there +was needed only the pushing of one of the levers to set the great +mill-stones, themselves, to grinding.</p> + +<p>"Jack," cried Henry Burns, "you've opened the gates. The wheels are +turning. We've got to stop that, quick. Someone might hear it."</p> + +<p>He sprang to the wheel, gave it a few sharp whirls, turned it again and +again with all his strength, and the rushing noise ceased. The mill, as +though satisfied that its protests against being driven to work at such +an hour had been availing, quieted once more, and the place was still.</p> + +<p>Still, save that the wind outside swept sharply around the corners of +the old structure, moaning about the eaves and whistling dismally in at +knot-holes. Still, save that now and again it seemed to quiver on its +foundations when some especially heavy thunder-clap roared overhead, +while the momentary flash revealed the dusty, cobwebbed interior.</p> + +<p>One standing, by chance, at the door of the mill that opened on to the +road, might have espied, in one of these sudden illumings of the night, +a farm wagon, drawn by a tired horse, splashing along the road past the +mill, and turning off, just below it, on the road leading to the house +on the hill.</p> + +<p>The driver, a tall, spare man, thin-faced and stoop-shouldered, sat with +head bent forward, to keep the rain from beating in his face. He was +letting the horse, familiar with the way, pick the road for itself.</p> + +<p>All at once, however, he sat upright, drew the reins in sharply, and +peered back in the direction of the mill.</p> + +<p>"Well, I'm jiggered!" he exclaimed. "If that isn't the mill. I must be +crazy. It can't run itself. Yes, but it is, though. What on earth's got +loose? It's twenty years and it's never done a thing like that. Back, +there. Back, confound you! I'll have a look."</p> + +<p>The horse most unwillingly backing and turning, headed once more toward +the main road, and then was drawn up short again.</p> + +<p>"Well, I must have been dreaming, sure enough," muttered the driver. "I +don't hear anything now. Well, we'll keep on, anyway. I'll have a turn +around the old place. There's more there than some folks know of. I'll +see that all's safe, if it rains pitchforks and barn-shovels. Giddap +Billy."</p> + +<p>A few moments later, Henry Burns and Harvey, having tucked themselves +snugly in among the meal-sacks close by the fire, with the lantern +extinguished, roused up, astounded and dismayed, at the sound of +carriage wheels just outside, and the click of a key in the lock of the +door. They had barely time to spring from their places, and dart up the +stairs that led from the middle of the main floor to the one next above, +before the door was thrown open and a man stepped within.</p> + +<p>They were dressed, most fortunately, for canoeing; and they had gained +the security of the upper floor, thanks to feet clad in tennis shoes, +without noise. Now they crouched at the head of the stairs, in utter +darkness, not knowing whither to move, or whether or not a step might +plunge them into some shaft.</p> + +<p>"It must be Ellison," whispered Harvey. "What'll we do?"</p> + +<p>"Nothing," answered Henry Burns, "and not make any noise about it +either. He heard your ship, Jack. Sh-h-h. We don't want to be put out +into the rain again."</p> + +<p>Farmer Ellison shut the door behind him, and they heard him take a few +steps across the floor; then he was apparently fumbling about in the +dark for something, for they heard him say, "It isn't there. Confound +that boy! He never puts that lantern back on the hook. If he don't catch +it, to-morrow. Hello! Well, if I've smashed that glass, there'll be +trouble."</p> + +<p>Farmer Ellison, stumbling across the floor, had, indeed, kicked the +lantern which had been left there by the fleeing canoeists. That it was +not broken, however, was evidenced the next moment by the gleam of its +light.</p> + +<p>By this gleam, the boys, peering down the stairway, could make out the +form of a tall, stoop-shouldered man, holding the lantern in one hand +and gazing about him. Now he advanced toward the little door that opened +into the outer mill, and stood, looking through, while he held the +lantern far out ahead of him.</p> + +<p>"Queer," he muttered. "I closed that door before I went up, or I'm +getting forgetful. But everything's all right. I don't see anything the +matter. Ho! ho! I'm getting nervous about things—and who wouldn't? When +a man has—"</p> + +<p>The rest of his sentence was lost, for he had stepped out on to one of +the planks. They heard him, only indistinctly, stepping from one plank +to another; but what he sought and what he did they could not imagine.</p> + +<p>"He must think a lot of this old rattle-trap, to mouse around here this +time of night," muttered Harvey. "What'll we do, Henry?"</p> + +<p>"Hide, just as soon as we get a chance," whispered Henry Burns. "He may +take a notion to come up. There! Look sharp, Jack. Get your bearings."</p> + +<p>Again a sharp flash of lightning gleamed through the upper windows, +lighting up the room where they were, for a moment, then leaving it +seemingly blacker than before.</p> + +<p>"I've got it," whispered Henry Burns. "Follow me, Jack."</p> + +<p>The two stole softly across to an end of the room, to where a series of +boxes were built in, under some shafting and chutes, evidently +constructed to receive the meal when ground. Henry Burns lifted the +cover of one of these. It was nearly empty, and they both squeezed in, +drawing the cover down over their heads, and leaving an opening barely +sufficient to admit air.</p> + +<p>They had not been a minute too soon; for presently they heard the sound +of footsteps. Farmer Ellison was coming up the stairs. Then the lantern +appeared at the top of the stairway, and the bearer came into view.</p> + +<p>They saw him go from one corner to another, throwing the lantern rays +now overhead among the tangle of belting, now behind some beam. Then he +paused for a moment beside one of the huge grinding stones. He put his +foot upon it and uttered an exclamation of satisfaction.</p> + +<p>"All right—all right," they heard him say. "Ah, the old mill looks +poor, but there's some men dress just like it, and have money in their +pockets."</p> + +<p>Then he passed on and up a flight of stairs leading to the third and +highest floor of the mill. He did not remain long, however, but came +down, still talking to himself. And when he kept on and descended to the +main floor, he was repeating that it was "all right," and "all safe;" +and so, finally, they heard him blow out the light, hang the lantern on +a hook and pass out through the door. The sound of the wagon wheels told +them that he was driving away.</p> + +<p>Quickly they scrambled out from their hiding place, descended the stairs +and crouched by the fire.</p> + +<p>"Well, what now?" asked Harvey. "Guess we'll turn in, eh?"</p> + +<p>But Henry Burns was already snuggling in among the meal-bags.</p> + +<p>"I'm going to sleep, Jack," he said. "Didn't you hear old Ellison say +everything was 'all right'?"</p> + +<p>"Yes. I wonder what he meant," said Harvey.</p> + +<p>"Oh, he said that just to please us," chuckled Henry Burns. "Good +night."</p> + +<p>The bright sun of a clearing day awoke them early the next morning, and +they lost no time in quitting the mill.</p> + +<p>"Jack," said Henry Burns, as he followed his companion across the +planking of the flume, "you look like an underdone buckwheat cake. +There's enough flour on your back for breakfast."</p> + +<p>"I'd like to eat it," exclaimed Harvey. "I'm hungry enough. Let's get +the canoe and streak it for Benton."</p> + +<p>They were drawing their canoe up the bank, a few moments later, to carry +it around the dam, when something away up along shore attracted their +notice. There, perched in a birch tree, in the topmost branches, with +her weight bending it over till it nearly touched the water, they espied +a girl, swinging. Then, as they looked, she waved a hand to them.</p> + +<p>"Hello," exclaimed Henry Burns. "It's Bess What's-her-name. She's not +afraid of getting drowned. That's sure."</p> + +<p>The boys swung their caps to her, and she stood upright amid the +branches and waved farewell to them, as they started for Benton.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_IV" id="CHAPTER_IV"></a>CHAPTER IV</h2> + +<h3>THE TROUT POOL</h3> + + +<p>The brook that flowed into Mill Stream, just above the old mill, itself, +came down from some heavily wooded hills a few miles to the northeast, +and its waters were ever cold, even in hottest summer, save in one or +two open places in the intervening meadows. It was called "Cold Brook" +by some of the farmers. Henry Burns and Harvey and Bess Thornton had +crossed this brook, by way of the bridge on their flight to the mill.</p> + +<p>A wayfarer, standing on the little bridge, of an afternoon, keeping +motionless and in the shadow, might sometimes see, far down in the clear +water, vague objects that looked like shadows cast by sticks. He might +gaze for many minutes and see no sign of life or motion to them. Then, +perchance, one of these same grey shadows might disappear in the +twinkling of an eye; the observer would see the surface of the water +break in a tiny whirl; the momentary flash of a silvery side, spotted +with red, appear—and the trout would vanish back into the deep water +once more.</p> + +<p>Let the traveller try as he might, he seldom got one of these fish. +They were too wary; "educated," the farmers called them. They certainly +knew enough not to bite.</p> + +<p>Tim Reardon occasionally came back to Benton with two or three of the +trout tucked inside his blouse; but he wouldn't tell how he got 'em—not +even to Jack Harvey, to whom he was loyal in all else. Most folks came +back empty-handed.</p> + +<p>To be sure, there was one part of the brook where the least experienced +fisherman might cast a line and draw out a fish. But that was just the +very part of all the brook where nobody was allowed. It was the pool +belonging to Farmer Ellison.</p> + +<p>A little more than a mile up the brook from the bridge the water came +tumbling down a series of short, abrupt cascades, into a pool, formed by +a small dam thrown across the brook between banks that were quite steep. +This pool broadened out in its widest part to a width of several rods, +bordered by thick alders, swampy land in places, and in part by a grove +of beech trees.</p> + +<p>Come upon this pool at twilight and you would see the trout playing +there as though they had just been let out of school. Try to catch +one—and if Farmer Ellison wasn't down upon you in a hurry, it was +because he was napping.</p> + +<p>You might have bought Farmer Ellison's pet cow, but not a chance to fish +in this pool. Indeed, he seldom fished it himself, but he prized the +trout like precious jewels. John and James Ellison, Farmer Ellison's +sons, and Benjamin, their cousin, fished the pool once in a great +while—and got soundly trounced if caught. It was Farmer Ellison's +hobby, this pool and its fish. He gloated over them like a miser. He +watched them leap, and counted them when they did, as a miser would +money.</p> + +<p>The dam held the trout in the pool downstream, and the cascades—or the +upper cascade—held them from escaping upstream. There were three +smaller cascades which a lusty trout could ascend by a fine series of +rushes and leapings. The upper water-fall was too steep to be scaled. +When the water in the brook was high there was an outlet in the dam for +it to pass through, to which a gate opened, and protected at all times +by heavy wire netting.</p> + +<p>Farmer Ellison's house was situated on a hill overlooking this part of +the brook, less than a half mile away.</p> + +<p>Some way up the brook, if one followed a path through mowing-fields from +Farmer Ellison's, and crossed a little foot-bridge over the brook, he +would come eventually upon a house, weather-beaten and unpainted, small +and showing every sign of neglect. The grass grew long in the dooryard. +A few hens scratched the weeds in what once might have been flower-beds. +The roof was sagging, and the chimney threatened to topple in the first +high wind.</p> + +<p>The sun was shining in at the windows of this house, at the close of an +afternoon, a few days following the adventure of Henry Burns and Harvey +in the mill. It revealed a girl, little, sturdy and of well-knit +figure, though in whose childish face there was an underlying trace of +shrewdness unusual in one so young; like a little wild creature, or a +kitten that has found itself more often chased than petted.</p> + +<p>The girl was busily engaged, over a kitchen fire, stirring some sort of +porridge in a dish. Clearly, hers were spirits not easily depressed by +her surroundings, for she whistled at her task,—as good as any boy +could have whistled,—and now and again, from sheer excess of animation, +she whisked away from the stove and danced about the old kitchen, all +alone by herself.</p> + +<p>"Isn't that oatmeal most ready, Bess?" came a querulous voice presently, +from an adjoining room. "What makes you so long?"</p> + +<p>"Coming, gran', right away now," replied the child. "The coffee's hot, +too. Don't it smell go-o-od? But there's only one—"</p> + +<p>"What?" queried the voice.</p> + +<p>"Nothing," said the child.</p> + +<p>She took a single piece of bread from a box, toasted it for a moment, +put it on a plate, poured a cup of coffee, dished out a mess of the +porridge, and carried it all into the next room. There, an elderly +woman, muttering and scolding to herself as she lay on a couch, received +it.</p> + +<p>"Too bad the rheumatics bother so, gran'," said the child, consolingly. +"If they last to-morrow, I'm going to tell old Witham and make him send +you something good to eat."</p> + +<p>"No, you won't," exclaimed the woman sharply. "Much he cares! Says he +pays me too much now for cooking; and he says I've got money tucked away +here. Wish I had."</p> + +<p>"So do I," said the child. "I'd buy the biggest doll you ever saw."</p> + +<p>"Fudge!" cried the old woman. "Why, you've outgrown 'em long ago."</p> + +<p>"I know it," said the child, solemnly. "But I'd just like to have a big +one, once."</p> + +<p>"And so you should, if we had our rights," cried Grannie Thornton, +lifting herself up on an elbow, with a jerk that brought forth an +exclamation of pain. "If he didn't own everything. If he didn't get it +all—what we used to own."</p> + +<p>"Old Ellison?" suggested the child.</p> + +<p>"Yes, Jim Ellison." Grannie Thornton sat up and shook a lean fist toward +the window that opened off toward the hill. "Oh, he bought it all right. +He paid for it, I suppose. But it's ours, by rights. We owned it all +once, from Ten Mile Wood to the bridge. But it's gone now."</p> + +<p>"I don't see why we don't own it now, if that's so," said the child.</p> + +<p>"Well, it's law doin's," muttered the woman. "Get your own supper, and +don't bother me."</p> + +<p>"I don't understand," said the child, as she went back to the kitchen.</p> + +<p>She might have understood better if Grannie Thornton had explained the +real reason: that the Thorntons had gone wild and run through their farm +property; mortgaged it and sold it out; and that Ellison, a shrewd +buyer, had got it when it was to be had cheapest. But she asked one more +question.</p> + +<p>"Gran'" she said, peeping in at the door, "will we ever get it again, +s'pose?"</p> + +<p>"Mercy sakes, how do I know!" came the answer. "It's ours now, by +rights. Will you ever stop talking?"</p> + +<p>The child looked wonderingly out across the fields; seated herself by +the window, and still gazed as she drank her coffee and ate her scanty +supper. She was sitting there when night shut down and hid the hill and +the brook from sight.</p> + +<p>The sun, himself an early riser, was up not anywhere near so early next +morning as was Bess Thornton. There was light in the east, but the sun +had not begun to roll above the hill-tops when the child stole quietly +out of bed, slipped into her few garments, and hurried barefoot, from +the room where she and Grannie Thornton slept. The old woman was still +slumbering heavily.</p> + +<p>"I'll not ask that old Witham for anything for gran," she said. "I'll +get her something,—and something she'll like, too. It all belongs to +us, anyway, gran' said."</p> + +<p>The girl gently slid the bolt of the kitchen door, stepped outside and +closed the door after her. Then she made her way out through the +neglected garden to an old apple-tree, against which there leaned a long +slender alder pole, with a line and hook attached. Throwing this over +her shoulder, she started down through the fields in the direction of +the brook.</p> + +<p>On the way, a few grasshoppers, roused from their early naps in the +grass by the girl's bare feet, jumped this side and that. But, with the +coolness of the hour, they seemed to have some of old Grannie Thornton's +rheumatism in their joints, for they tumbled and sprawled clumsily. The +girl quickly captured several of them, tying them up in a fold of her +handkerchief.</p> + +<p>Presently she came near the borders of the pool, dear to the heart of +Farmer Ellison. But the edge of the pool on the side where she walked +was boggy. Gazing sharply for some moments up at the big house on the +hill, the girl darted down to the edge of the brook close by the dam, +then suddenly skimmed across it to the other side.</p> + +<p>A little way above the dam, on that side, there were clumps of bushes, +among which one might steal softly to the water's edge, on good, firm +footing. The girl did this, seated herself on a little knoll behind a +screen of shrubs, baited the hook with a fat grasshopper and cast it +into the pool.</p> + +<p>"Grasshopper Green, go catch me a trout," she whispered; "and don't you +dare come back without a big—"</p> + +<p>Splash! There was a quick, sharp whirl in the still water; a tautening +of the line, a hard jerk of the rod, and the girl was drawing in a plump +fellow that was fighting gamely and wrathfully for his freedom. The fish +darted to and fro for a moment, lashed the water into a miniature +upheaval, and then swung in to where a small but strong little hand +clutched him.</p> + +<p>"Oh, you beauty!" she exclaimed, gazing triumphantly and admiringly at +his brilliant spots. "Didn't you know better than to try to eat poor old +Grasshopper Green? See what you get for it. Gran'll eat you now."</p> + +<p>She took the trout from the hook, dropped it among the shrubs, took +another "grasshopper green" from her handkerchief, and cast again. A +second and a third trout rewarded her efforts.</p> + +<p>But Bess Thornton, the grasshoppers and the trout were not the only ones +stirring abroad early this pleasant morning. A person not all intent +upon fishing, nor absorbed in the excitement of it, might have seen, had +he looked in the direction of the house on the hill, Farmer Ellison, +himself, appear in the doorway and gaze out over his fields and stream.</p> + +<p>Had one been nearer, he might have seen a look of grim satisfaction, +that was almost a smile, steal over the man's face as he saw the grass, +grown thick and heavy; grains coming in well filled; garden patches +showing thrift; cattle feeding in pasture lands, and the brook winding +prettily down through green fields and woodland.</p> + +<p>But the expression upon Farmer Ellison's face changed, as he gazed; his +brow wrinkled into a frown. His eyes flashed angrily.</p> + +<p>What was that, moving to and fro amid the alder clumps by the border of +the trout pool? There was no breeze stirring the alders; but one single +alder stick—was not it waving back and forth most mysteriously?</p> + +<p>Farmer Ellison gave an exclamation of anger. He knew these early morning +poachers. This would not be the first he had chased before sunrise, +taking a fish from the forbidden waters. He stepped back into the entry, +seized a stout cane, and started forth down through the fields, bending +low and screening himself as he progressed by whatsoever trees and +bushes were along the way.</p> + +<p>That someone was there, whipping the stream, there could be no doubt. +Yet, someone—whoever it was—must be short, or else, perchance, +crouched low in the undergrowth; for Farmer Ellison could get no glimpse +of the fisherman.</p> + +<p>Crack! A dead branch snapped under Farmer Ellison's heavy boot.</p> + +<p>Bess Thornton, gleeful,—joyous over the conquest of her third trout, +looked quickly behind her, startled by the snapping of the branch only a +few rods away. What she saw made her gasp. She almost cried out with the +sudden fright. But she acted promptly.</p> + +<p>Giving the pole a sharp thrust, she shoved it in under the bank, beneath +the water. The trout! The precious trout! Ah, she could not leave them. +Hastily she snatched them up, and thrust all three inside her gingham +waist, dropping them in with a wrench at the neck-band.</p> + +<p>"Ugh! how they squirm," she cried, softly.</p> + +<p>Then, creeping to the water's edge, she dived in—neatly as any trout +could have done it—and disappeared. One who did not know Bess Thornton +might well have been alarmed now, for the child seemed to be lost. The +surface of the brook where she had gone down remained unruffled. Then, +clear across on the other side, one watching sharply might have seen a +child's head appear out of the pool, at the edge of a clump of +bull-rushes; might have seen her emerge half out of water, and hide +herself from view of anyone on the opposite shore.</p> + +<p>She had swum the entire width of the pool under water.</p> + +<p>From her hiding-place she saw Farmer Ellison rush suddenly from cover +upon the very place where she had sat, fishing. She saw him run, +furiously, hither and thither, beating the underbrush with his cane, +shaking the stick wrathfully. His face showed the keenest disappointment +and chagrin.</p> + +<p>Up and down the shore of the pool he travelled, searching every clump +that might afford shelter.</p> + +<p>"Well," he exclaimed finally, "I must be going wrong, somehow. First +it's the mill I hear, when it isn't grinding, and now I see somebody +fishing when there isn't anybody. I'll go and take some of them burdock +bitters. Guess my liver must be out of order."</p> + +<p>Farmer Ellison, shaking his head dubiously, and casting a backward +glance now and then, strode up the hill, looking puzzled and wrathful.</p> + +<p>When he was a safe distance out of the way, a little figure, dripping +wet, scrambled in across the bog on the other side, and stole up +through the fields to the old tumble-down house.</p> + +<p>"What's that you're cooking, child?" called out a voice, some time +later, as the girl stood by the kitchen stove.</p> + +<p>"M-m-m-m gran', it's something awful good. Do you smell 'em?" replied +the child, gazing proudly into the fry-pan, wherein the three fat trout +sizzled. "Well, I caught 'em, myself."</p> + +<p>"I do declare!" exclaimed Grannie Thornton. "I didn't know the trout +would bite now anywhere but in Jim Ellison's pool."</p> + +<p>The girl made no reply.</p> + +<p>"You like 'em, don't you, gran'?" she said, gleefully, some moments +later, as she stood watching the old woman eat her breakfast with a +relish. Grannie Thornton had eaten one trout, and was beginning on the +half of another.</p> + +<p>"They're tasty, Bess," she replied. "Where did you catch 'em? I thought +the fishing in the brook wasn't any use nowadays."</p> + +<p>The girl stood for a moment, hesitating. Then she thought of the old +woman's words of the night before.</p> + +<p>"I caught 'em in the pool, gran'," she said.</p> + +<p>The iron fork with which Grannie Thornton was conveying a piece of the +trout to her mouth dropped from her hand. The last piece she had eaten +seemed to choke her. Then she tottered to her feet with a wrench that +made her groan.</p> + +<p>"You got 'em from the pool!" she screamed. "From the pool, do you say? +Don't yer know that's stealing? Didn't I bring you up better'n that? +What do you mean by going and being so bad, just 'cause I'm crippled and +can't look after yer? Would you grow up to be a thief, child?"</p> + +<p>The old woman's strength failed her, and she fell back on the couch. The +girl stood for a moment, silent, the tears rolling down her cheeks.</p> + +<p>"But you said 'twas all ours, anyway, gran'," she sobbed. "Will I have +to go to prison, do you think?"</p> + +<p>"Nonsense!" cried Grannie Thornton. "But if Ellison found it out—"</p> + +<p>Bess Thornton was darting out of the doorway.</p> + +<p>"He'll find it out now," she said, bitterly. "I'll tell him. I don't +care what happens to me."</p> + +<p>Benjamin Ellison, James Ellison's nephew, a heavy-set, large-boned, +clumsily-built youth, lounged lazily in the dooryard of the Ellison +homestead as the girl neared the gate, a quarter of an hour later.</p> + +<p>"Hello, Tomboy," he said, barring her entrance, with arms outstretched. +"Don't know as I'll let you in this way. Let's see you jump the fence. +Say, what's the matter with you? Ho! ho! Why, you look like that cat I +dropped in the brook yesterday. You've got a ducking, somehow. Your +clothes aren't all dry yet. Who—?"</p> + +<p>The youth's bantering was most unexpectedly interrupted. He himself +didn't know exactly how it happened. He only knew that the girl had +darted suddenly forward, that he had been neatly tripped, and that he +found himself lying on his back in a clump of burdocks.</p> + +<p>"Here, you beggar!" he cried, spitefully, scrambling to his feet and +making after her. "You'll get another ducking for that."</p> + +<p>But the girl, as though knowing human nature, instinctively ran close +beside another youth, of about the same size as Benjamin, who had just +appeared from the house, caught him by an arm and said, "Don't let him +hurt me, will you, John? I tripped him up. Oh, but you ought to have +seen him!"</p> + +<p>Her errand was forgotten for an instant and she laughed a merry laugh.</p> + +<p>The boy thus appealed to, a youth of about his cousin's size, but of a +less heavy mould, stood between her and the other.</p> + +<p>"You go on, Bennie," he said, laughing. "Let her alone. Oh ho, that's +rich! Put poor old Bennie on his back, did you, Bess? What do you want?"</p> + +<p>The girl's mirth vanished, and her face flushed.</p> + +<p>"I want to see your father," she said, slowly.</p> + +<p>"All right, go in the door there," responded John Ellison. "He's all +alone in the dining-room."</p> + +<p>Farmer Ellison, finishing his third cup of coffee, and leaning back in +his chair, looked up in surprise, as the girl stepped noiselessly across +the threshold and confronted him.</p> + +<p>"Well! Well!" he exclaimed, eying her somewhat sharply. "Why didn't you +knock at the door? Forgotten how? What do you want?"</p> + +<p>The girl waited for a moment before replying, shuffling her bare feet +and tugging at her damp dress. Then she seemed to gather her courage. +She looked resolutely at Farmer Ellison.</p> + +<p>"I want a licking, I guess," she said.</p> + +<p>Farmer Ellison's face relaxed into a grim smile.</p> + +<p>"A licking," he repeated. "Well, I reckon you deserve it, all right, if +not for one thing, then for something else."</p> + +<p>"I guess I do," said Bess Thornton.</p> + +<p>"Well, what do you want me to do about it?" queried Farmer Ellison, +looking puzzled. "Can't old Mother Thornton give it to you?"</p> + +<p>"No," replied the girl. "She's sick. And besides, she didn't know what I +was going to do. I did it all myself, early this morning."</p> + +<p>Farmer Ellison looked up quickly. An expression of suspicion stole over +his face. He looked at the girl's bedraggled dress.</p> + +<p>"What have you been up to?" he asked, sternly.</p> + +<p>"I've been stealing," replied the girl. "'Twas—'twas—"</p> + +<p>Farmer Ellison sprang up from his seat.</p> + +<p>"'Twas you, then, down by the shore?" he cried. "Confound it! I knew I +didn't need them burdock bitters all the time I was takin' 'em. Stealing +my trout, eh? Don't tell me you caught any?"</p> + +<p>"Only three."</p> + +<p>The girl half whispered the reply.</p> + +<p>Farmer Ellison seized the girl by an arm and shook her roughly.</p> + +<p>"Bring them back!" he cried. "Where are they?"</p> + +<p>"I can't," stammered the girl; "they're cooked."</p> + +<p>He shook her again.</p> + +<p>"You ate my trout!" he cried. "Pity they didn't choke you. Didn't you +feel like choking—eating stolen trout, eh?"</p> + +<p>"Gran' did," said the girl, ruefully. "But 'twas a bone, sir. She didn't +know they were stolen till I told her."</p> + +<p>The sound of Farmer Ellison's wrathful voice had rung through the house, +and at this moment a woman entered the room. At the sight of her, Bess +Thornton suddenly darted away from the man's grasp, ran to Mrs. Ellison, +hid her face in her dress and sobbed.</p> + +<p>"I didn't think 'twas so bad," she said. "I—I won't do it again—ever."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Ellison, whose face expressed a tenderness in contrast to the +hardness of her husband's, stroked the girl's hair softly, seated +herself in a rocking chair, and drew the girl close to her.</p> + +<p>"What made you take the fish?" she inquired softly.</p> + +<p>"Well, gran' said we ought to have the whole place by rights—"</p> + +<p>Mrs. Ellison directed an inquiring glance at her husband.</p> + +<p>"She's been complaining that way ever since I bought it," he said.</p> + +<p>"And gran' was sick and I thought she'd like some of the trout," +continued the girl. "She's got rheumatics and can't work this week, you +know."</p> + +<p>"But wouldn't it have been better to ask?" queried Mrs. Ellison, kindly. +"Didn't you feel kind of as though it was wrong, eating something you +had no right to take?"</p> + +<p>"I didn't," answered the girl, promptly. "I didn't eat any. I was going +to, though, till gran' said what she did—"</p> + +<p>"Then you haven't had anything to eat to-day?" asked Mrs. Ellison, +feeling a sudden moisture in her own eyes.</p> + +<p>"No," said the girl.</p> + +<p>"And what makes your dress so wet? Did you fall in?"</p> + +<p>"No-o-o," exclaimed the girl. "I swam the pool. And I did it all the way +under water. I didn't think I could, and I almost died holding my breath +so long. But I did it."</p> + +<p>There was a touch of pride in her tone.</p> + +<p>"James," said Mrs. Ellison. "Leave her to me. I'll say all that's +needed, I don't think she'll do it again."</p> + +<p>"Indeed I won't—truly," said Bess Thornton.</p> + +<p>Farmer Ellison walked to the door, with half a twinkle in his eye. +"Clear across the pool under water," he muttered to himself. "Sure +enough, I didn't need them burdock bitters."</p> + +<p>A few minutes later, Bess Thornton, seated at the breakfast table in the +Ellison home, was eating the best meal she had had in many a day. A +motherly-looking woman, setting out a few extra dainties for her, wiped +her eyes now and again with a corner of her apron.</p> + +<p>"She'd have been about her age," she whispered to herself once softly, +and bent and gave the girl a kiss.</p> + +<p>When Bess Thornton left the house, she carried a basket on one arm that +made Grannie Thornton stare in amazement when she looked within.</p> + +<p>"No, no," she said, all of a tremble, as the girl drew forth some of the +delicacies, and offered them to her. "Not a bit of it for me. I'll not +touch it. You can. And see here, don't go up on the hill again, do you +hear? Keep away from the Ellisons'."</p> + +<p>She had such a strange, excited, almost frightened way with her that the +child urged her no further, but put the basket away, put of her sight.</p> + +<p>"Mrs. Ellison asked me to come again," she said to herself, sighing. "I +don't see why gran' should care."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_V" id="CHAPTER_V"></a>CHAPTER V</h2> + +<h3>SOME CAUSES OF TROUBLE</h3> + + +<p>It was early of a Saturday afternoon, warm and sultry. Everything in the +neighbourhood of the Half Way House seemed inclined to drowsiness. Even +the stream flowing by at a little distance moved as though its waters +were lazy. The birds and the cattle kept their respective places +silently, in the treetops and beneath the shade. Only the flies, buzzing +about the ears of Colonel Witham's dog that lay stretched in the +dooryard, were active.</p> + +<p>They buzzed about the fat, florid face of the colonel, presently, as he +emerged upon the porch, lighted his after-dinner pipe and seated himself +in a big wooden arm-chair. But the annoyance did not prevent him from +dozing as he smoked, and, finally, from dropping off soundly to sleep.</p> + +<p>He enjoyed these after-dinner naps, and the place was conducive to them. +The long stretch of highway leading up from Benton had scarcely a +country wagon-wheel turning on it, to stir the dust to motion. In the +distance, the mill droned like a big beehive. Near at hand only the fish +moved in the stream—the fish and a few rowboats that swung gently at +their ropes at the end of a board-walk that led from the hotel to the +water's edge.</p> + +<p>The colonel slumbered on. But, far down the road, there arose, +presently, a cloud of dust, amid which there shone and glittered flashes +of steel. Then a line of bicyclists came into view, five youths, with +backs bent and heads down, making fast time.</p> + +<p>On they came with a rush and whirr, the boy in front pointing in toward +the Half Way House. The line of glistening, flying wheels aimed itself +fair at Colonel Witham's dog, who roused himself and stood, growling +hoarsely, with ears set back and tail between his legs.</p> + +<p>Then the screeching of five shrill whistles smote upon the summer +stillness, the wheels came to an abrupt stop, and the five riders +dismounted at a flying leap at the very edge of Colonel Witham's porch. +The colonel, startled from sweet repose by the combined noise of +whistles, buzzing of machines, shouts of the five riders and the yelping +of his frightened dog, awoke with a gasp and a momentary shudder of +alarm. He was enlightened, if not pacified, by a row of grinning faces.</p> + +<p>"Why, hello, Colonel Witham," came a chorus of voices. "Looks like old +times to see you again. Thought we'd stop off and rest a minute."</p> + +<p>Colonel Witham, sitting bolt upright in his chair, and mopping the +perspiration from his brow with an enormous red handkerchief, glared at +them with no friendly eyes.</p> + +<p>"Oh, you did, hey!" he roared. "Well, why didn't you bring a dynamite +bomb and touch that off when you arrived? Lucky for you that dog didn't +go for you. He'll take a piece out of some of you one of these days." +(Colonel Witham did not observe that the dog, at this moment, tail +between legs, was flattening himself out like a flounder, trying to +squeeze himself underneath the board walk.) "What do you want here, +anyway?"</p> + +<p>"Some bottled soda, Colonel," said the youngest boy, in a tone that +would seem to indicate that the colonel was their best friend. "Bottled +soda for the crowd. My treat."</p> + +<p>"Bottled monkey-shines and tomfoolery!" muttered Colonel Witham, arising +slowly from his chair. "I wish it would choke that young Joe Warren. +Never saw him when he wasn't up to something."</p> + +<p>But he went inside with them and served their order; scowling upon them +as they drank.</p> + +<p>"What are you doing?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"Making a fifty mile run, Colonel," replied one of the boys, whose +features indicated that he was an elder brother of the boy who had +previously spoken. "Tom and Bob—you remember them—are setting the pace +on their tandem for Arthur and Joe and me. Whew, but we came up +a-flying. Well, good day, we're off. You may see Tim Reardon by and by. +We left him down the road with a busted tire."</p> + +<p>They were away, with a shout and a whirl of dust.</p> + +<p>"Hm!" growled the colonel. "I'll set the dog on Tim Reardon if he comes +up the way they did. Here, Cæsar, come here!"</p> + +<p>The colonel gave a sharp whistle.</p> + +<p>But Cæsar, a yellow mongrel of questionable breeds, did not appear. A +keen vision might have seen this canine terror to evildoers poke a +shrinking muzzle a little way from beneath the board walk, emit a +frightened whine and disappear.</p> + +<p>Colonel Witham dozed again, and again slumber overtook him. He did not +stir when Grannie Thornton, recovered from her attack of rheumatism, +appeared at a window and shook a table-cloth therefrom; nor when Bess +Thornton, dancing out of the doorway, whisked past his chair and seated +herself at the edge of the piazza.</p> + +<p>The girl's keen blue eyes perceiving, presently, an object in the +distance looking like a queer combination of boy and bicycle, she ran +out from the dooryard as it approached. Tim Reardon, an undersized, +sharp-eyed youngster, rather poorly dressed and barefoot, wheeling his +machine laboriously along, was somewhat of a mournful-looking figure. +The girl held up a warning hand as he approached.</p> + +<p>"Hello," said the boy. "What's the matter?"</p> + +<p>The girl pointed at the sleeping colonel.</p> + +<p>"Said he'd set the dog on you if you came around the way the others +did," replied Bess Thornton. "They woke him up. My! wasn't he mad? +Here," she added, handing a small box to the boy, "George Warren left +this for you. Said they wanted to make time. That's why they didn't stop +for you."</p> + +<p>"Thanks," said the boy. "Thought I'd got to walk clear back to Benton. +But I was going to have a swim first. Guess I'll have it, anyway. It's +hot, walking through this dust."</p> + +<p>"I'll tell you where to go," said the girl. "Do you know what's fun? See +that tree way up along shore there, the one that hangs out over the +water? Well, I climb that till it bends down, and then I get to swinging +and jump."</p> + +<p>Tim Reardon gave her an incredulous glance, with one eye half closed.</p> + +<p>"Oh, I don't care whether you believe it or not," said the girl. "But +I'll show you some time. Can't now. Got to wash dishes. Don't wake him +up, or you'll catch it."</p> + +<p>She disappeared through the doorway, and Tim Reardon, leaving his wheel +leaning against a corner of the house, went up along shore. In another +half hour he returned, took from his pocket the box the girl had given +to him, got therefrom an awl, a bottle of cement and some thin strips of +rubber, and began mending the punctured tire of the bicycle. The tire +was already somewhat of a patched affair, bearing evidences of former +punctures and mendings.</p> + +<p>"It's Jack's old wheel," he remarked by way of explanation to Bess +Thornton, who had reappeared and was interestedly watching the +operation. "He's going to give me one of his new tires," he added, "the +first puncture he gets."</p> + +<p>"Why don't you put a tack in the road?" asked the girl promptly.</p> + +<p>Tim Reardon grinned. "Not for Jack," he said.</p> + +<p>"Say," asked the girl, "what's Witham mad with those boys about? Why +did he send 'em out of the hotel the other night?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, that's a long story," replied Tim Reardon; "I can't tell you all +about it. Witham used to keep the hotel down to Southport, and he was +always against the boys, and now and then somebody played a joke on him. +Then, when his hotel burned, he thought the boys were to blame; but Jack +Harvey found the man that set the fire, and so made the colonel look +foolish in court."</p> + +<p>But at this moment a yawn that sounded like a subdued roar indicated +that Colonel Witham was rousing from his nap. He stretched himself, +opened his eyes blankly, and perceived the boy and girl.</p> + +<p>"Well," he exclaimed, "you're here, eh? Wonder you didn't come in like a +wild Indian, too. What's the matter?"</p> + +<p>"Got a puncture," said Little Tim.</p> + +<p>The colonel, having had the refreshment of his sleep, was in a better +humour. He was a little interested in the bicycle.</p> + +<p>"Queer what new-fangled ideas they get," he said. "That's not much like +what I used to ride."</p> + +<p>Little Tim looked up, surprised.</p> + +<p>"Why, did you use to ride a wheel?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"Did I!" exclaimed Colonel Witham, reviving old recollections, with a +touch of pride in his voice. "Well, now I reckon you wouldn't believe I +used to be the crack velocipede rider in the town I came from, eh?"</p> + +<p>Little Tim, regarding the colonel's swelling waist-band and fat, puffy +cheeks, betrayed his skepticism in looks rather than in speech. Colonel +Witham continued.</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir," said he, "there weren't any of them could beat me in those +days. Why, I've got four medals now somewhere around, that I won at +county fairs in races. 'Twasn't any of these wire whirligigs, either, +that we used to ride. Old bone-shakers, they were; wooden wheels and a +solid wrought iron backbone. You had to have the strength to make that +run. Guess some of these spindle-legged city chaps wouldn't make much of +a go at that. I've got the old machine out in the shed there, somewhere. +Like to see it?"</p> + +<p>"I know where it is," said Bess Thornton. "I can ride it."</p> + +<p>"You ride it!" exclaimed Colonel Witham, staring at her in amazement. +"What?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," replied the girl; "but only down hill, though. It's too hard to +push on the level. I'll go and get it."</p> + +<p>"Well, I vum!" exclaimed Colonel Witham, as the girl started for the +shed. "That girl beats me."</p> + +<p>"Look out, I'm coming," called a childish voice, presently.</p> + +<p>The door of the shed was pushed open, and Bess Thornton, standing on a +stool, could be seen climbing into the saddle of what resembled closely +a pair of wagon wheels connected by a curving bar of iron. She steadied +herself for a moment, holding to the side of the doorway; then pushed +herself away from it, came down the plank incline, and thence on to the +path leading from the elevation on which the shed stood, at full speed. +Her legs, too short for her feet to touch the pedals as they made a +complete revolution, stuck out at an angle; but she guided the wheel and +rode past Tim Reardon and the colonel, triumphantly. When the wheel +stopped, she let it fall and landed on her feet, laughing.</p> + +<p>"Here it is, Colonel Witham," said she, rolling it back to where he +stood. "Let's see you ride it."</p> + +<p>Colonel Witham, grasping one of the handle-bars, eyed the velocipede +almost longingly.</p> + +<p>"No," he said. "I'm too old and stout now. Guess my riding days are +over. But I used to make it go once, I tell you."</p> + +<p>"Go ahead, get on. You can ride it," urged Tim Reardon. "It won't +break."</p> + +<p>"Oh no, it will hold me, all right," said Colonel Witham. "We didn't +have any busted tires in our day. Good iron rim there that'll last for +ever."</p> + +<p>"Just try it a little way," said Bess Thornton.</p> + +<p>"I never saw anybody ride that had won medals," said Tim Reardon.</p> + +<p>Colonel Witham's pride was rapidly getting the better of his discretion.</p> + +<p>"Oh, I can ride it," he said, "only it's—it's kind of hot to try it. +Makes me feel sort of like a boy, though, to get hold of the thing."</p> + +<p>The colonel lifted a fat leg over the backbone and put a ponderous foot +on one pedal, while the drops of perspiration began to stand out on his +forehead.</p> + +<p>"Get out of the way," he shouted. "I'll just show you how it +goes—hanged if I don't."</p> + +<p>The colonel had actually gotten under way.</p> + +<p>Little Tim Reardon doubled up with mirth, and rolled over on the grass.</p> + +<p>"Looks just like the elephant at the circus," he cried.</p> + +<p>"Sh-h-h, he'll hear you," whispered Bess Thornton.</p> + +<p>Colonel Witham was certainly doing himself proud. A new thrill of life +went through him. He thought of those races and the medals. It was an +unfortunate recollection, for it instilled new ambitions within him. He +had ridden up the road a few rods, had made a wide turn and started +back; and now, as he neared the hotel once more, his evil genius +inspired him to show the two how nicely he could make a shorter turn.</p> + +<p>He did it a little too quickly; the wheel lurched, and Colonel Witham +felt he was falling. He twisted in the saddle, gave another sharp yank +upon the handle-bars—and lost control of the wheel. A most unfortunate +moment for such a mishap; for now, as the wheel righted, it swerved to +one side and, with increased speed, ran upon the board walk that led +down to the boat-landing.</p> + +<p>The walk descended at quite a decided incline to the water's edge. It +was raised on posts above the level of the ground, so that a fall from +it would mean serious injury. There was naught for the luckless colonel +to do but sit, helpless, in the saddle and let the wheel take its +course.</p> + +<p>Helpless, but not silent. Beholding the fate that was inevitable, the +colonel gave utterance to a wild roar of despair, which, together with +the rumbling of the wheels above his head, drove forth his dog from his +hiding-place. Cæsar, espying this new and extraordinary object rattling +down the board walk, and mindful of the agonizing shrieks of his master, +himself pursued the flying wheel, yelping and barking and adding his +voice to that of Colonel Witham.</p> + +<p>There was no escape. The heavy wheel, bearing its ponderous weight of +misery, and pursued to the very edge of the float by the dog, plunged +off into the water with a mighty splash. Colonel Witham, clinging in +desperation to the handle bars, sank with the wheel in some seven feet +of water. Then, amid a whirl and bubbling of the water like a boiling +spring, the colonel's head appeared once more above the surface. Choking +and sputtering, he cried for help.</p> + +<p>"Help! help!" he roared. "I'm drowning. I can't swim."</p> + +<p>"No, but you'll float," bawled Little Tim, who was darting into the shed +for a rope.</p> + +<p>Indeed, as the colonel soon discovered, now that he was once more at the +surface, it seemed really impossible for him to sink. He turned on his +back and floated like a whale.</p> + +<p>And at this moment, most opportunely, there appeared up the road the +line of bicyclists returning.</p> + +<p>They were down at the shore shortly—Tom Harris, Bob White, George, +Arthur and Joe Warren—just as Little Tim emerged from the shed, with an +armful of rope.</p> + +<p>"Here, you catch hold," he said, "while I make fast to the colonel." The +next moment, he was overboard, swimming alongside Colonel Witham.</p> + +<p>"Look out he don't grab you and drown you both," called George Warren.</p> + +<p>Little Tim was too much of a fish in the water to be caught that way. +The most available part of Colonel Witham to make fast to, as he floated +at length, was his nearest foot. Tim Reardon threw a loop about that +foot, then the other; and the boys ashore hauled lustily.</p> + +<p>The colonel, more than ever resembling a whale—but a live one, inasmuch +as he continued to bellow helplessly—came slowly in, and stranded on +the shore. They drew him well in with a final tug.</p> + +<p>"Here, quit that," he gurgled. "Want to drag me down the road?" The +colonel struggled to his feet, his face purple with anger.</p> + +<p>"Now get out of here, all of you!" he roared. "There's always trouble +when you're around. Tim Reardon, you keep away from here, do you +understand?"</p> + +<p>"Yes sir," replied Tim Reardon, wringing his own wet clothes; and then +added, with a twinkle in his eyes, "but ain't you going to show us those +medals, Colonel Witham?"</p> + +<p>It was lucky for Tim Reardon that he was fleet of foot. The colonel made +a rush at him, but Tim was off down the road, leaping into the saddle +of his mended wheel, followed by the others.</p> + +<p>"Don't you want us to raise the velocipede, so you can ride some more?" +called young Joe Warren, as he mounted his own wheel.</p> + +<p>The colonel's only answer was a wrathful shake of his fist.</p> + +<p>"Colonel Witham," said Grannie Thornton, as her employer entered the +hotel, a few minutes later, "here's a note for you, from Mr. Ellison. +Guess he wants to see you about something."</p> + +<p>"Hm!" exclaimed the colonel, opening the note, and dampening it much in +doing so, "Jim Ellison, eh? More of his queer business doings, I reckon. +He's a smart one, he is," he added musingly, as he waddled away to his +bed-room to change his dripping garments; then, spying his own face in +the mirror: 'What's the matter with you, Daniel Witham? Aren't you +smart, too? In all these dealings, isn't there something to be made?'</p> + +<p>Colonel Witham, rearraying his figure in a dry suit of clothing, was to +be seen, a little later, on the road to the mill, walking slowly, and +thinking deeply as he went along. He was so engrossed in his reflections +that he failed to notice the approach of a carriage until it was close +upon him. He looked up in surprise as a pleasant, gentle voice accosted +him.</p> + +<p>"Good afternoon, Colonel Witham," it said.</p> + +<p>The speaker was a middle-aged, sweet faced woman—the same that had +appeased the wrath of her husband against Bess Thornton. She leaned out +of the carriage now and greeted Colonel Witham with cordiality.</p> + +<p>"Oh, how-dye-do," replied Colonel Witham abruptly, and returning her +smile with a frown. He passed along without further notice of her +greeting, and she started up the horse she had reined in, and drove +away.</p> + +<p>Only once did Colonel Witham turn his head and gaze back at the +disappearing carriage. Then he glowered angrily.</p> + +<p>"I don't want your smiles and fine words," he muttered. "You were too +good for me once. Just keep your fine words to yourself. I don't want +'em now."</p> + +<p>Colonel Witham, in no agreeable mood, went on and entered at the office +door of the mill. A tall, sharp-faced man, seated on a stool at a high +desk, looked up at his entrance. One might see at a glance that here was +a man who looked upon the world with a calculating eye. No fat and +genial miller was James Ellison. No grist that came from his mill was +likely to be ground finer than a business scheme put before him. He eyed +Colonel Witham sharply.</p> + +<p>"Aha, Colonel," he exclaimed, in a slightly sneering tone, "bright and +cheery as ever, I see. I thought I'd like to have you drop in and +scatter a little sunshine. Sit down. Have a pipe?"</p> + +<p>Colonel Witham, accepting the proffered clay and and the essentials for +loading it, sat back in a chair, and puffed away solemnly, without +deigning to answer the other's bantering.</p> + +<p>James Ellison continued figuring at his desk.</p> + +<p>"Well," said Colonel Witham after some ten minutes had passed, "Suppose +you didn't get me down here just to smoke. What d'ye want?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, I'm coming to that right away," replied Ellison, still writing. +"You know what I want, I guess." He turned abruptly in his seat, and his +keen face shaded with anger. He pointed a long lean finger in the +direction of the town of Benton. "You know 'em, Dan Witham," he said, +"as well as I do. Though you didn't get skinned as I did. You didn't go +down to town, as I did twenty odd years ago, with eight thousand +dollars, and come back cleaned out. You didn't invest in mines and +things they said were good as gold, and have 'em turn out rubbish. You +didn't lose a fortune and have to start all over again. But you know em, +eh?"</p> + +<p>Colonel Witham nodded assent, and added mentally, "Yes, and I know you, +too. Benton don't have the only sharp folks."</p> + +<p>"And now," added James Ellison, "when I've got some of it back by hard +work, you know how I keep it from them, and from others, too. Well, +here's some more of the papers. The mill and a good part of the farm and +some more land 'round here go to you this time. All right, eh? You get +your pay on commission. Here's the deeds conveying it all to you—for +valuable consideration—valuable consideration, see?"</p> + +<p>The miller gave a prodigious wink at his visitor, and laughed.</p> + +<p>"You don't mind being thought pretty comfortably fixed, eh—all these +properties put in your name? Don't do you any harm, and people around +here think you're mighty smart. Your deeds from me are all recorded, eh? +People look at the record, and what do they see? All this stuff in your +name. Well, what do I get out of that? You know. There are some claims +they don't bother me with, because they think I'm not so rich as I am. +There's property out of their reach, if anything goes wrong with some +business I'm in.</p> + +<p>"Why? Well, we know why, all right, you and I. Here's the deeds of the +same property which you give back to me. Only I don't have them put on +record. I keep them hidden—up my sleeve—clear up my sleeve, don't I?"</p> + +<p>"You keep 'em hidden all right, I guess," responded Colonel Witham; and +made a mental observation that he'd like to know where the miller really +did hide them.</p> + +<p>"So here they are," continued the miller. "It's a little more of the +same game. The property's all yours—and it isn't. You'll oblige, of +course, for the same consideration?"</p> + +<p>Colonel Witham nodded assent, and the business was closed.</p> + +<p>And, some time later, as Colonel Witham plodded up the road again, he +uttered audibly the wish he had formed when he had sat in the miller's +office.</p> + +<p>"I'd like to know where he keeps those deeds hidden," he said, +apparently addressing his remark to a clump of weeds that grew by the +roadside. The weeds withholding whatever information they may have had +on the question, Colonel Witham snipped their heads off with a vicious +sweep of his stick, and went on. "I don't know as it would do me any +good to know," he continued, "but I'd just like to know, all the same."</p> + +<p>And James Ellison, his visitor departed, wandered about for some time +through the rooms of his mill. One might have thought, from the sly and +confidential way in which he drew an eye-lid down now and again, as he +passed here and there, that the wink was directed at the mill itself, +and that the crazy old structure was really in its owner's confidence; +that perhaps the mill knew where the miller hid his papers.</p> + +<p>At all events, James Ellison, sitting down to his supper table that +evening, was in a genial mood.</p> + +<p>"Lizzie," he said, smiling across the table at his wife, "I saw an old +beau of yours to-day—Dan Witham. He didn't send any love to you, +though."</p> + +<p>"No," responded Mrs. Ellison, and added, somewhat seriously, "and he has +no love for you, either. I hope you don't have much business dealing +with him."</p> + +<p>"Ho, he's all right, is Dan Witham," returned her husband. "He's gruff, +but he's not such a bad sort. Those old times are all forgotten now."</p> + +<p>"I'm not so certain of that, James," said Mrs. Ellison.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VI" id="CHAPTER_VI"></a>CHAPTER VI</h2> + +<h3>CAPTURING AN INDIAN</h3> + + +<p>Tim Reardon, a barefoot, sunburned urchin, who might be perhaps twelve +years old, judging from his diminutive figure, and anywhere from that to +fifteen, by the shrewdness of his face, stood, with arms akimbo, gazing +in rapturous admiration at a bill-board. It was a gorgeous and thrilling +sight that met his eyes. Lines in huge coloured letters, extending +across the top of the board, proclaimed the subject of the display:</p> + + +<h4>Bagley & Blondin's Gigantic Circus<br /> +Two Colossal Aggregations in One<br /> +Stupendous—Startling—Scintillating<br /> +Moral—Scientific<br /> +Applauded by all the Crowned Heads of Europe.</h4> + + +<p>The pictorial nightmare that bore evidence to the veracity of these +assertions was indeed wonderful and convincing. A trapeze performer, +describing a series of turns in the air that would clearly take him +from one end of the long bill-board to the other, was in manifest +peril, should he miss the swinging trapeze at the finish of his +flight, of landing within the wide open jaws of an enormous +hippopotamus—designated in the picture as, "The Behemoth of Holy Writ." +An alligator, sitting upright, and bearing the legend that he was one of +the "Sacred Crocodiles of the Nile, to which the Indian Mothers Throw +Their Babes," was leering with a hopeful smile at the proximity of a +be-spangled lady equestrian, balanced on the tip of one toe upon the +back of a galloping horse.</p> + +<p>The jungle element was generously supplied by troops of trumpeting +elephants, tigers with tails lashing, bloated serpents dangling +ominously from the overhanging tree branches, while bands of lean and +angular monkeys jabbered and chattered throughout all the picture.</p> + +<p>Little Tim heaved a sigh.</p> + +<p>"Gee!" he exclaimed. "I'd like to see that Royal Bengal tiger that ate +up three of his keepers alive."</p> + +<p>Little Tim, fired with the very thought, and emulative of an athlete in +distorted attitude and gaudy fleshings, proceeded to turn himself upside +down and walk upon his hands, waving his bare feet fraternally at the +pictured gymnasts. He found himself suddenly caught by the ankles, +however, and slung roughly across someone's shoulder.</p> + +<p>"Hello, Tim," said his captor, good naturedly, "going to join the +circus?"</p> + +<p>Little Tim grinned, sheepishly.</p> + +<p>"Guess not, Jack," he replied. "Say, wouldn't you like to see that tiger +eat up a keeper?"</p> + +<p>Jack Harvey laughed, setting Tim on his feet again.</p> + +<p>"I'll bet that tiger isn't as great a man-eater as old Witham," he said. +"They put that in to make people think he's awful fierce, so they'll go +to the show. You going?"</p> + +<p>Tim Reardon, thrusting his hands into his pockets and closing his +fingers on a single five cent piece, three wire nails and a broken +bladed jack-knife, looked expressively at Harvey.</p> + +<p>"I dunno," he replied. "P'raps so."</p> + +<p>Jack Harvey took the hint.</p> + +<p>"Come along with us," he said. "Where's the rest of the crew?"</p> + +<p>"They're going—got the money," said Tim.</p> + +<p>Harvey looked surprised. His crew, so called because the three other +members of it besides Tim Reardon had sailed with him on his sloop in +Samoset bay, were generally hard up.</p> + +<p>"All right," said Harvey, "you can go with Henry Burns and George Warren +and me. Come on. Let's go down town and see the parade."</p> + +<p>The blare of trumpets and the clashing of brass was shaking the very +walls of the city of Benton. A steam calliope, shrieking a tune +mechanically above the music of the band and the roar of carts, was +frightening farmers' horses to the point of frenzy. Handsome, sleek +horses, stepping proudly, were bearing their gaily dressed riders in +cavalcade. And the rumble of the heavy, gilded carts gave an undertone +to the sound. Bagley & Blondin's great moral and scientific show was +making its street parade, prior to the performance.</p> + +<p>Tim Reardon stood between Henry Burns and Jack Harvey on a street +corner, with George Warren close by. Tim Reardon's eyes seemed likely to +pop clean out of his head.</p> + +<p>"There he is! There he is, Jack!" he exclaimed all at once, fairly +gasping with excitement.</p> + +<p>"Who is?" asked Harvey.</p> + +<p>"The man-eating tiger," cried Tim. "It says so on the cage."</p> + +<p>Harvey chuckled. "I'd like to throw you in there, Tim," he said. "He'd +be scared to death of you. Here's the real thing coming, though. Say, +what do you think of that?"</p> + +<p>The float that approached was certainly calculated to fire the brain of +youth. On the platform, open to view from all sides, there was set up in +the centre the trunk of a small tree, to which was securely bound, by +hand and foot, the figure of a huntsman, clad in garb of skins, buckskin +leggings and moccasins. A powder horn was slung picturesquely from one +shoulder, and a great hunting-knife—alas useless to him now—stuck +conspicuously in his belt.</p> + +<p>Around this hapless captive there moved the figures of three savages, +their faces streaked with various hues of paint, their war-bonnets of +eagles' feathers flaunting, and wonderful to behold. Each bore in his +right hand a gleaming tomahawk, which now and then was raised menacingly +toward the unfortunate huntsman. Again one would put his hand to his +lips, and a shrill war-whoop would rival the screaming of the steam +calliope.</p> + +<p>Close by, a wigwam, of painted skins thrown over a light frame-work of +poles, added to the picture. At the entrance to this there stood now a +man in ordinary dress, who thus addressed the crowd through a megaphone:</p> + +<p>"Ladies and Gentlemen, this historical representation which you now see +before you is a scene from real life. It represents the perils of the +plainsman in the midst of bands of cruel savages. It shows a captive +bound to the stake and about to be put to torture. (Increased activity +on the part of the Indians, and a suggestive squirming on the part of +the prisoner.)</p> + +<p>"Ladies and Gentlemen, this daring scout was one of General Miles's most +trusted and heroic followers. (Name not mentioned.) He was captured by +these three chiefs, Leaping Panther, Crazy Bear and Red Bull—a kinsman +of the famous Sitting Bull—after one of the most desperate struggles +ever known, and after twice disarming his adversaries and nearly killing +them all. (Revengeful gestures on the part of the three toward the +captive.)</p> + +<p>"Ladies and Gentlemen, the continuation of this thrilling adventure, the +rescue of this famous scout and the capture of Leaping Panther, Crazy +Bear and Red Bull, will be enacted under canvas at the great Bagley & +Blondin moral and scientific show this afternoon and evening."</p> + +<p>"Hi! yi!" yelled Little Tim, "Real Injuns, Jack. Look at the big one, +with the red streak across his chin."</p> + +<p>Tim's shrill voice rang out above the noise of the procession. Perhaps +it may have penetrated, even, to the group upon the float; for, at that +moment, the great chief, Red Bull—kinsman to the sitting +variety—turned and shook his tomahawk in the direction of the group of +boys. Little Tim squealed in an ecstasy of pleasurable alarm.</p> + +<p>"Look out; he'll get you, Tim," said George Warren.</p> + +<p>"Gee!" exclaimed Little Tim. "Bet I wouldn't like to be tied to that +tree, though."</p> + +<p>"Why not?" asked Jack Harvey, grinning at Tim's serious expression.</p> + +<p>"Because, how'd I know they wouldn't forget some time and go ahead and +really scalp me? Oh, they might do it, all right. You needn't laugh. I +wouldn't like to be mas-sick-ered the way they were at that Fort +some-thing-or-other in the Last of the Mohigginses."</p> + +<p>"Ho, you mean the 'Last of the Mohicans,'—the book I told you about, +eh?" said Henry Burns—"all about Uncas and the rest."</p> + +<p>"That's it," cried Little Tim. "Wouldn't I like to be Un-cuss, though, +and scalp Red Bull."</p> + +<p>"Fine!" laughed Henry Burns. "Come on, we'll go up to the circus +grounds."</p> + +<p>To Little Tim the afternoon was one glorious dream; a dream through +which there pranced horses in bright trappings, ridden by be-spangled +men and women; chariots rumbled in mad races; bicyclists shot down +fearful inclines; and the whole proceedings made glad to the heart of +the youngster by the roaring of wild beasts.</p> + +<p>The impending torture of Gen. Miles's scout was happily averted by the +timely arrival of a band of mounted soldiers, whose cracking rifles laid +in the dust the painted warriors—barely in time to save Little Tim, +also, from utter collapse. He emerged from the tent, some hours later, +wild eyed; so freighted down with red lemonade and peanuts that if +dropped overboard he must surely have sunk without a struggle.</p> + +<p>Evening came, and with it the night performance. Night found Little Tim +again on the grounds. True, he had no money for a ticket, but it was a +delight to wander about the grounds; to climb upon the great carts and +be chased off by angry circus men. The gaudy canvases, stretched here +and there, reminded him of what he had seen inside; and he eyed them +affectionately.</p> + +<p>Once there was a thrill of excitement for him, when the Indian warriors, +their evening act over, hurried past him in a group and disappeared +within the opening of a small tent, on the outskirts of the grounds.</p> + +<p>Time passed, and it had struck nine o'clock a half hour ago. The show +would be over in half an hour more. Young Joe Warren, who had seen the +main circus in the afternoon and who was strolling in and about the +side-shows, suddenly found himself accosted by Tim Reardon, who gasped +out a greeting as though the words choked him.</p> + +<p>"Hello, Tim," replied Joe, eying him with astonishment. "Say, what's the +matter? Any of the snakes got loose? You look as though they were after +you."</p> + +<p>Tim was breathless, sure enough, as though he were being pursued. His +very eyes seemed to have grown larger, and he was hardly able to stand +still long enough to reply.</p> + +<p>"Come on, Joe," he whispered. "I'll show you something. Better'n snakes, +a big sight. Easy now, don't talk. Follow me."</p> + +<p>Young Joe Warren, a boy slightly taller than Tim and perhaps a year +older, ready at all times for a lark, followed his barefoot guide, but +on the look-out, half suspecting it was one of Tim's tricks. They +threaded their way through a maze of carts and circus paraphernalia, out +to the edge of the grounds; past a line of small tents, used as the +encampment of the performers, to a grove of maple trees skirting the +field.</p> + +<p>"I say, Tim, what's up, anyway?" inquired Joe Warren presently. "You +needn't think you can fool me—"</p> + +<p>"Sh-h-h," warned Tim, turning and raising a hand to silence his +companion. "Here he is."</p> + +<p>He took a few steps forward, grasped Joe Warren's arm, brought him to a +stand-still and pointed toward a figure that reclined upon a blanket +spread beneath a tree.</p> + +<p>"Well, what of it—what is it?" asked Joe Warren, "I don't see anything +but somebody asleep."</p> + +<p>Tim Reardon again gestured for silence and induced his companion to +approach nearer. Whereupon he pointed gleefully at the face of the +sleeper. Young Joe, bending down softly, beheld the painted features of +the great chief, Red Bull.</p> + +<p>"Hmph!" he exclaimed. "It's only one of the Injuns. Saw 'em at the show +this afternoon."</p> + +<p>Little Tim, in reply, seized Young Joe mysteriously by an arm, drew him +away a few paces and whispered something, excitedly.</p> + +<p>Young Joe gave a subdued roar.</p> + +<p>"Cracky!" he cried, doubling up. "Tim, you're the craziest youngster. +What put it into your head? We couldn't do it."</p> + +<p>"No, you and I couldn't," answered Tim; "but the whole of us could—Jack +Harvey and Henry Burns, and the rest of the fellers. Gee! Joe, just +think of it. A real live Injun—a live one-'twould be just like the Last +of the Mohigginses."</p> + +<p>"What would we do with him if we got him?" asked Joe.</p> + +<p>"Nothin'," replied Little Tim—"Oh, yes, we could,—take him off up +stream to the camp and—dance 'round him, like they do in the show."</p> + +<p>"Come on," said Joe Warren. "Let's find Jack and Henry Burns and +George. They won't do it, though."</p> + +<p>If one could have seen Henry Burns's eyes twinkle, when they had found +the three a few moments later, however, they would have thought +differently.</p> + +<p>"Tim, you're all right," he said. "But how could we get him away from +here?"</p> + +<p>"Why, get the wagon," said Young Joe. "Come on, George, will you? I'll +go down to the house for it, if you'll join. 'Twon't take more'n half an +hour. You find Tom and Bob; they're 'round somewhere. Then wait here +till I come back."</p> + +<p>Young Joe, reading a half consent in his elder brother's hesitation, +darted away. George Warren was not keen for it, however.</p> + +<p>"Tim, you and Joe are a couple of young idiots," he exclaimed. "We're +not going to do any such fool thing as that. We couldn't do it, in the +first place."</p> + +<p>"Yes we can," argued Little Tim. "He ain't got his tomahawk nor any +scalping knife. And he ain't very much bigger than Jack."</p> + +<p>Harvey drew himself up and felt of his muscle.</p> + +<p>"Tom and Bob could lick him, without the rest of us," continued Little +Tim.</p> + +<p>Tom and Bob, who had been added to the group, likewise flexed their +biceps and thought how strong they were.</p> + +<p>"I ain't afraid," said Harvey.</p> + +<p>"Nor I," said Tom and Bob, respectively.</p> + +<p>Thus they argued. A half hour went by, and the band inside the tent was +making loud music as a youth darted up to them, out of breath with +running.</p> + +<p>"Come on," cried Young Joe, softly. "I've got the wagon over back in the +grove, and some ropes, and some cloth. Come and take a look."</p> + +<p>To look was to yield. The sleeping, snoring figure of the great chief, +Red Bull, gave no signs of suspicious dreams when, some moments later, a +band of boys approached noiselessly the place where he lay. The moment +could not have been timed more opportunely for success. The circus was +about breaking up for the night, and the great tent was buzzing and +resounding with noise.</p> + +<p>A half dozen figures suddenly sprang forward upon the slumbering +chieftain. The arms of the dread Red Bull, seized respectively by Jack +Harvey and Tom Harris, were quickly bound behind him. A light rope, +wound securely about his ankles by George Warren, and made fast in +sailor fashion, rendered him further helpless; while, at the same time, +a long strip of cloth, procured by Young Joe for the purpose, and +swathed about his head, stifled his roars of rage and fright. Red Bull, +the great Indian chief, the terror of the plains, was most assuredly a +captive—an astounded and helpless Indian, if ever there was one.</p> + +<p>Borne on the sturdy shoulders of his pale-face captors, Red Bull, bound +and swathed, uttering smothered ejaculations through the cloth, was +conveyed to the waiting wagon and driven away.</p> + +<p>A little less than an hour from this time there arrived at the shore of +Mill Stream a strange party, the strangest beyond all doubt that had +come down to these shores since the days when the forefathers of circus +chiefs had skimmed its waters in their birch canoes, carrying their +captives not to pretended but to real torture.</p> + +<p>Two canoes, brought down from an old shed, were launched now and floated +close to shore. Into one of these was carried the helpless and enraged +Red Bull, where he was propped up against a thwart. In front of him, on +guard, squatted Little Tim. Jack Harvey and Henry Burns took their +places, respectively, at stern and bow, equipped with paddles. The +second canoe was hastily filled with the four others. They made a heavy +load for each canoe, and brought them down low in the water.</p> + +<p>"Easy now," cautioned Tom Harris, as the party started forth. "We're +well down to the gunwales. No monkeying, or we'll upset."</p> + +<p>They proceeded carefully and silently up stream, with the moon coming up +over the still water to light them on their way.</p> + +<p>A mile and a half up the stream, they paused where a shabby structure of +rough boards, eked out with odds and ends of shingle stuff, with a rusty +funnel protruding from the roof, showed a little back from shore, on a +cleared spot amid some trees.</p> + +<p>"Here's the camp," cried Harvey; and they grounded the canoes within its +shadow.</p> + +<p>The chief, Red Bull, clearly not resigned to his fate, but squirming +helplessly, was conveyed up the bank and set down against a convenient +stump. The canoes were drawn on shore, and the party gathered about him.</p> + +<p>"What are we going to do with him, anyway, now we've got him?" inquired +George Warren.</p> + +<p>"Oh, he's got to be tried by a war council," said Henry Burns; "and all +of us are scouts, and we've got to tell how many pale-faces he's +scalped, and then he's got to be sentenced to be put to torture and +scalped and—and all that sort of thing. And then we'll dance around him +and—and then by and by—well, I suppose we'll have to let him go. I +don't know just how, but we'll arrange that. But we've got to have a +fire first, to make it a real war council."</p> + +<p>They had one going shortly, down near the shore, and casting a weird +glare upon the scene.</p> + +<p>After a preliminary dance about their captive, in which they lent colour +to the picture by brandishing war-clubs and improvised tomahawks, they +sat in solemn council on the chief.</p> + +<p>"Fellow scouts," said Henry Burns, addressing his assembled followers, +"this is the great Indian chief, Magua, the dog of the Wyandots—"</p> + +<p>"Whoopee!" yelled Little Tim, "that's him. He killed Un-cuss, didn't he, +Henry?"</p> + +<p>"The brave scout has spoken well," replied Henry Burns. "This is the +cruel dog of the Wyandots; slayer of the brave Uncas; shot at by +Hawkeye, the friend of the Delawares—"</p> + +<p>"I thought you said he killed him—in the book," cried Little Tim.</p> + +<p>"Shut up, Tim," said Joe Warren.</p> + +<p>"He's alive again," declared Henry Burns, solemnly. "He was only +wounded.</p> + +<p>"Here is the cruel Huron," continued Henry Burns, "delivered into our +hands by that daring scout who knows no fear."</p> + +<p>Little Tim grinned joyously at this praise from his leader.</p> + +<p>"What shall we do with our captive?" solemnly inquired Henry Burns. +"Shall we show mercy to the slayer of the brave Uncas? Shall we be women +and let him go, to roam the forests and ravage the homes of our +settlers, or shall he be put to death?"</p> + +<p>"He must die," growled Scout Harvey. "The daring leader has spoken well. +Is it not so, men?"</p> + +<p>The doom of Red Bull, otherwise Magua, the dog of the Wyandots, was +declared.</p> + +<p>The death of the captive followed swiftly—in pantomime—the brave +scouts, under the leadership of Henry Burns, performing a series of +dances about the helpless one, accomplishing his end with imaginary +tomahawk blows.</p> + +<p>"Now he must be scalped," said Henry Burns. "What say you, men, shall we +cast the lot to see who takes the scalp of Magua, the great chief of the +Hurons?"</p> + +<p>It was done. The short stick was drawn by Little Tim—to his +inexpressible joy.</p> + +<p>"Take the scalping-knife, brave scout," said Henry Burns, handing him a +huge wooden affair, whittled out for the purpose. "The scalp of Magua +the chief shall hang at the cabin of Swift Foot, the scout who captured +him."</p> + +<p>Swift Foot advanced to perform the last act in the drama. It was a weird +and dreadful moment. The fire-light cast its flickering glow upon the +doomed chief, his captors and the executioner. The form of Magua was +seen to quiver, as though life was indeed not all extinct.</p> + +<p>Swift Foot performed his grim office with a flourish. The wooden +scalping-knife descended upon the gorgeous head-piece of the victim, +which the scout grasped with his other hand and pulled as he drew the +knife.</p> + +<p>But at this moment the form beneath the knife wriggled in the hands of +the executioner; lurched to one side, and the head-piece fell away, so +true to life that an involuntary shudder went through the group, as +though the act had really been accomplished. The flaunting head-piece of +eagle feathers fell indeed away, clutched in the hand of Little Tim. +And, at the same instant, by some loosening of the cloth, that, too, +dropped down, freeing the jaws of the Indian chief.</p> + +<p>To their amazement, the fire-light shone now not on the straight black +hair of an Indian, but upon a towsled top-knot of unmistakable red. +While from the parted lips of the figure there issued a sound that was +not of the child of the forest.</p> + +<p>"Tim Reardon, yer little divvle," cried the victim, glaring at the +astounded youth with unfeigned rage, "it's yerself I'll be takin the +hair off—yer little scallerwag—an the hide of yer, too. Sure an ye'll +be doin some lively dancin' around when I git me two hands on yer. +Scoutin' is it ye'll be doin? I'll scout ye and the likes of all er ye. +Lemme go, I tell yer,—"</p> + +<p>The scalping knife dropped from the palsied hand of Swift Foot, the +scout. He stood, glaring wildly at the outraged captive.</p> + +<p>"Danny O'Reilly!" he exclaimed, gasping for breath. "Oh, gimminy +crickets!"</p> + +<p>"Yes, an it's Danny O'Reilly that'll be scalpin' ye all over from head +to foot to-morrow," cried the captive, wriggling in his bonds. "Lemme +out er this, I tell yez. Sure an I've got a hand out now, and in a +minnit I'll be showin' the likes of ye what it is to take an honest man +away from his job with the circus."</p> + +<p>True enough, in some way, by his wriggling, Danny O'Reilly was rapidly +emerging, not only from his disguise as an Indian chief, but from his +bonds as well. Panic seized upon the brave scouts—a panic born of dread +of what might be in store in days to come. There was a rush to the +canoes; a hasty scrambling aboard; a frenzied launching of the craft, +and an ignominious flight from the place of execution.</p> + +<p>Five minutes later, one walking the highway leading up from Benton might +have beheld a strange figure, striding in to the city, breathing words +of wrath upon the night air; a figure clad in Indian finery, but +bearing the likeness beneath his war-paint of Daniel O'Reilly, a +stalwart labourer of Benton, for the time being a valuable accession to +the Bagley & Blondin great moral and scientific show.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VII" id="CHAPTER_VII"></a>CHAPTER VII</h2> + +<h3>A LONG RACE BEGUN</h3> + + +<p>The circus remained two days longer in Benton, but there were certain +youths who kept away from it. A solemn oath of secrecy bound them as to +the reason why. Only Tim Reardon and Joe Warren couldn't resist the +temptation of stealing in among the wagons and watching for the +appearance of Danny O'Reilly in all the glory of his paint and feathers; +and, when they beheld a crowd of farmers gaze upon him admiringly as he +passed in for the Wild West performance, they nearly choked to death +with laughter, and couldn't have run if he had espied them.</p> + +<p>"Guess we won't get licked, after all," whispered Little Tim. "Not if we +keep dark, we won't. Danny's going on with the show up the state. He +told Jimmy Nolan, his cousin, and Jimmy told me. 'You'd never guessed he +wasn't an Injun,' says Jimmy to me, 'unless I'd told yer. Don't you ever +let on,' he says—and I like to died—hello, who's that coming?"</p> + +<p>Looking in the direction pointed out by Tim Reardon, Young Joe beheld an +old wagon, drawn by a lean horse, the seat of the wagon nearly bent +down to the axles on one side by the weight of the occupant.</p> + +<p>"Well, if it isn't Colonel Witham!" exclaimed Young Joe. "Didn't suppose +he'd pay to go to a circus."</p> + +<p>It seemed, however, that Colonel Witham had no immediate intention of +entering the main tent, for he proceeded to walk along the line of +smaller pavilions, where the side-shows proclaimed their many and +monstrous attractions. The canvas of one of these presently attracted +the colonel's attention, for he paused in front of it and stood studying +it contemplatively.</p> + +<p>Little Tim and Young Joe, stealing around in the rear of Colonel Witham, +beheld the object of his curiosity. There was a full length portrait on +the canvas, painted in brilliant colours, of a woman standing before an +urn from which vague vapours were arising. She held in one hand a wand, +with which she seemed in the act of conjuring forth a shadowy figure +from within the vapours. A little black satanic imp peered coyly over +her right shoulder. The inscription beneath her portrait read:</p> + + +<h4>Lorelei, the Sorceress.<br /> +Your Future Foretold—All Mysteries Explained—Your<br /> +Fate Read by the Stars—Hidden Things Revealed—Lost<br /> +Property Recovered.</h4> + + +<p>Something about the gaudy and pretentious sign seemed to fascinate +Colonel Witham. He walked past it once, reading it out of the corner of +one eye; but he went only a little way beyond, then turned and stopped +and surveyed it once more. He edged up to the canvas, sidled into the +entrance and disappeared.</p> + +<p>"Cracky!" cried Young Joe. "Isn't that rich? The colonel's going to have +his fortune told. Wow! wow! Suppose he's fallen in love?"</p> + +<p>"Not much," said Little Tim. "He wants to know where he's lost a dollar, +probably. Hello, Allan, come over here."</p> + +<p>Little Tim, in high glee, bawled out a greeting to a comrade, Allan +Harding, and conveyed the great news. The three stood awaiting the +colonel's reappearance.</p> + +<p>If they could have seen within the tent, they might have beheld Colonel +Witham, seated at a table upon which a light was thrown, its object +being not so much to illuminate the occupant of the seat as to obscure +his vision. It served to render more shadowy a vague figure that +occupied a little booth across which a gauze curtain hung, and from +which a voice now issued:</p> + +<p>"I see a dusty road, with fields running back from it," droned the +voice, with mysterious monotony, while the person behind the veil +scrutinized keenly the figure and dress of her visitor. "I see a great +house a little way back from the road, with—with what seems to be a +porch in front."</p> + +<p>"Yes, yes," said Colonel Witham, beginning to be impressed, ignoring the +fact that his person indicated his occupation and that the description +would answer almost every farmhouse along the road from Benton.</p> + +<p>"I see a figure sitting on the porch, and it resembles—yes, it is +yourself. You are thinking. There is something that you want to know. +You do not seem to be in love—"</p> + +<p>Colonel Witham snorted—and the hint to the sorceress was sufficient.</p> + +<p>"The stars are very clear on that point," continued the voice. "Your +mind is bent on more serious things. You have a business matter that +troubles you."</p> + +<p>"Wonderful!" ejaculated Colonel Witham, under his breath. "What else do +you see?" he inquired, eagerly.</p> + +<p>"Let me read the stars," continued the voice. "I see what looks like +another man."</p> + +<p>"Yes, yes," said Witham, forgetting in his eagerness that he had come +in, half skeptical, and meant to reveal nothing on his own part. "Is he +hiding anything?"</p> + +<p>"Wait—not so fast," replied the voice. Then, after a pause, "No, he is +not hiding anything."</p> + +<p>Colonel Witham's jaw dropped.</p> + +<p>"But," continued the sorceress, "there is something strange about him. +Wait, until I ask the spirits. They will tell something. Yes, he has +something already hidden. It is secreted. He has hidden something away. +Let me see, are they papers? They look like papers, but it is vague—"</p> + +<p>"And where are they hidden?" cried Colonel Witham, rising from his seat +eagerly.</p> + +<p>"The spirits will not say," answered the voice. "They seem to be angry +at something. Ah, they say they must have more money."</p> + +<p>"But I paid at the door," protested Colonel Witham.</p> + +<p>"Yes, but they are angry," said the voice. "They are angry at me for +taking so little for all I impart. They will have two dollars more, +or—yes, they are already disappearing—quick, or you will be too late."</p> + +<p>Colonel Witham groaned in anguish; slowly produced a shabby wallet, took +therefrom two greasy dollar bills and passed them across the table to an +outstretched hand.</p> + +<p>"Ah, they are coming back," said the voice. "Another moment and it would +have been too late. Now the stars are coming out clearer also. What is +it they tell? Ah, they say—listen—they say the man has concealed +papers that are wanted by you—concealed them <i>in his place of +business</i>."</p> + +<p>"Yes, yes, but where?" cried Colonel Witham. "In the safe, or around the +machinery—where-abouts?"</p> + +<p>"Listen," said the voice. "The spirits seem angry again—"</p> + +<p>"Let 'em be angry!" bellowed Colonel Witham. "They'll not get another +cent, confound 'em!"</p> + +<p>"Softly, softly," said the voice soothingly, "The spirits are greatly +agitated by loud words. And the stars are growing dim once more. The +spirits want no more money. They will tell you all; that is, all you +need to know. Listen: They say you will find the papers. But you must be +patient. They are hidden in a building where there are wheels turning +rapidly. And the spirits say the noise hurts their ears. They say, +though, that you must wait a little while, and then you will go into the +building and find them. That is all now. You will certainly get them. +The spirits are gone. They will not come back again to-day."</p> + +<p>The voice became silent; and Colonel Witham sat sheepishly in his chair. +Then he arose and walked slowly to the doorway. Had he been fooled? He +did not know. It was certainly strange: how the voice had described his +hotel—a big house with a porch—and he looking out—and the other +man—the man that had hidden the papers. No, there was something +remarkable about it all. He would surely get them. Colonel Witham +emerged from the tent.</p> + +<p>A chorus of three young voices greeted him:</p> + +<p>"Hello, Colonel Witham, been having your fortune told? Tell us what the +witch said, will you, colonel?"</p> + +<p>The colonel, gazing at the grinning faces of Tim and Joe Warren and +Allan Harding, flushed purple and raised his cane, wrathfully.</p> + +<p>"You little ras—" he began, but bethought himself and halted. "Ho, ho," +he said, looking half ashamed. "That was only a joke. Just took a +notion to see how funny it was. Here boy, give these lads some peanuts." +The colonel produced a dime from his trousers pocket.</p> + +<p>"Say, Tim," said Joe Warren some moments later, "I guess the colonel is +in love, after all. Ten cents' worth of peanuts! My, he's got it bad. +Let's go tell Henry Burns."</p> + +<p>A day or two following, toward the end of a pleasant afternoon, Tim +Reardon and his friend, Allan Harding, sat by the shore of Mill stream +watching a small fleet of canoes engaged in active manoeuvring. It was +at a point on the stream opposite the scene of the execution of the +great Indian chief, where the small cabin stood. Back from this a few +rods was an old barn, of which the boys of Benton rented a small section +for the storage of canoes and paddles.</p> + +<p>There were four canoes now upon the stream, each containing two +occupants. The eight canoeists were stripped for the work, showing a +gorgeous, if somewhat worn, array of sleeveless jerseys. The boys were +bronzed and healthy looking. Back and forth they darted across the +stream from shore to shore; or again, tried short spurts up and down +stream.</p> + +<p>"What are they going to do, Tim?" inquired his companion.</p> + +<p>"Don't you know?" queried Tim, by way of reply. "Say, it's going to be +the dandiest race ever. Start to-morrow morning right after breakfast +from in front of the cabin, and go straight up stream all day long. Only +when Jack blows the horn at noon everybody's got to stop and go ashore +and eat something. Then they start again when Jack blows for 'em to. And +paddle like everything all the afternoon till six o'clock. Then stop +again when Jack blows, and leave every canoe just where it is.</p> + +<p>"Then they get together and pitch tents and camp all night, and race +back next day. And everybody has got to come up to where the first canoe +is before they turn back. Henry Burns, he got it up. I'll bet he and +Jack win the race, too."</p> + +<p>"What'll you bet?" demanded Allan Harding, who had been eying the +canoeists sharply.</p> + +<p>"Thousand dollars," replied Tim, promptly, shoving his grimy hands into +pockets that contained several marbles, a broken-bladed knife and other +valuables.</p> + +<p>"Well," replied Allan Harding, cautiously, "mebbe you're right, but I +guess those fellows in the green canoe stand a good chance. Look how +strong they are. Say, who are they, anyway?"</p> + +<p>"Hm! Jack Harvey's stronger'n any of them," asserted Jim loyally, eying +his stalwart friend, as a canoe passed containing Harvey and Henry +Burns. "Those other chaps are Jim and John Ellison. They live up on the +farm above here. That's what makes 'em strong. But you know Jack. Didn't +he make us stand around, aboard the <i>Surprise</i>?"</p> + +<p>"Well, who's going to win, Tim?" called Tom Harris, as he skilfully +turned the canoe paddled by himself and Bob White, to avoid collision +with one which held George and Arthur Warren.</p> + +<p>"'Spose you think you are," answered Tim, "because you and Bob know how +to paddle best. Look out for Jack, though."</p> + +<p>Tom Harris laughed. "You'd bet on Jack if he had a broken arm," he said.</p> + +<p>"Count us last, I guess," said George Warren, good-naturedly. "We're +pretty new at it. Going in for the fun of it. Hello, who's this coming?"</p> + +<p>"Look out, Jim, it's Benny," exclaimed the elder of the Ellison +brothers.</p> + +<p>"I don't care. I won't stand any nonsense from him," replied his +brother, a handsome young fellow, athletic, but slightly smaller than +the other.</p> + +<p>Just what he meant by this remark was best explained when Benjamin +Ellison, strolling lazily down to the shore, paused in the process of +devouring a huge piece of molasses cake and said, in a sneering tone:</p> + +<p>"My, Johnnie, don't you and Jim look fine though, with city chaps? +What'll Uncle Jim say when I tell him—"</p> + +<p>He didn't get much further, for a canoe shot in to shore, and from the +bow of it sprang John Ellison. He seized his cousin by the shoulder.</p> + +<p>"You will tell tales, will you?" he cried.</p> + +<p>"Let me alone," replied the other, striving to shake off John Ellison's +grasp, but failing. Then he added, as the other canoes came in to shore +and the boys stepped out of them. "Can't you take a joke?"</p> + +<p>"No, not when you've done the same kind of a thing before," exclaimed +John Ellison. "Come on, fellows, in with him."</p> + +<p>Ready for any kind of a rough joke, several of the canoeists laid hands +on the unfortunate Benjamin.</p> + +<p>"Most too many against one," remarked Henry Burns, quietly. "Better let +him go."</p> + +<p>"No, he's got to be ducked," insisted John Ellison, whose anger was +aroused.</p> + +<p>"Well, only a little one," assented Harvey, grinning good-naturedly. So +they held the luckless youth heels over head and plunged his head +beneath the surface up to his coat-collar. He was sputtering wrathfully +as they lifted him out again.</p> + +<p>"Going to tell on us?" cried John Ellison.</p> + +<p>Benjamin Ellison glared at his cousin, doubtfully.</p> + +<p>"Once more," said John Ellison; and they put the victim's head under +again.</p> + +<p>He wasn't hurt and his clothes were still dry; but he was whining, and +he begged for mercy after the second ducking.</p> + +<p>"I won't tell," he said.</p> + +<p>"Honest?"</p> + +<p>"Honest Injun!"</p> + +<p>They let him go, and he departed hastily up through the field.</p> + +<p>"Tell, will he?" queried Harvey, as Benjamin departed.</p> + +<p>"Guess not," replied John Ellison. "He's got enough. He'd like to, +though. He don't like you city fellows any better than father does. He +hasn't got anything against you, either. He's too lazy to paddle. Come +on, Jim, let's follow him up. Well be on hand to-morrow, if there's no +trouble."</p> + +<p>The brothers took up their canoe and left the party.</p> + +<p>"They're all right, those Ellison chaps," said Harvey; "all except +Benny. He's no good. Come on, fellows, let's lock up, and no walking in +to town, remember. Running's good for the wind. Coming along, Tim?"</p> + +<p>"No, I'm going to sleep in the cabin," replied Tim Reardon, "and see the +start in the morning."</p> + +<p>"Guess I will, too," said Allan Harding. So the two remained, while the +troop of canoeists set off soon after, on the run back to Benton.</p> + +<p>The following morning, the first of a double holiday, came in bright and +clear. Little Tim and his companion were early astir, and cooking a mess +of oatmeal from the cabin's scanty stores over a cracked sheet iron +stove.</p> + +<p>"There they come," cried Tim presently, as the sounds of fresh, boyish +voices came from outside. "Hooray! I wish 'twas a yacht race, though. +Wouldn't I go along?"</p> + +<p>By nine o'clock the four canoes were fully equipped, drawn up in line +off the cabin, and the canoeists, paddles in hand, arms bared, and +sweaters tied around the thwarts, were ready to start. Jim and John +Ellison were there, a sturdy pair of farm lads; Jack Harvey, apparently +much over-matching his mate in physique, but with something in the +slighter figure of Henry Burns that indicated resource and staying +powers; Tom and Bob, old and hardened canoeists; and George and Arthur +Warren, clean-cut and athletic.</p> + +<p>"Ready for the horn!" called Harvey, holding his paddle in his right +hand and a long, tin horn in the other.</p> + +<p>"All ready!" sang out the canoeists.</p> + +<p>Harvey put the horn to his lips and blew a loud, full blast. The paddles +struck the water with a vigour, and the race was begun.</p> + +<p>The three canoes shot ahead of Harvey's at the start, owing to the +slight delay caused him in dropping the horn.</p> + +<p>"Let them lead, Jack," said Henry Burns, quietly. "It's a two days' +race. Take it easy."</p> + +<p>"That's so," said Harvey, half pausing in a stroke in which he had +started to exert his strength to the utmost. "Lucky I've got you. You +always keep cool. How do you manage to do it?"</p> + +<p>Henry Burns smiled, but made no reply. Instead, he pointed ahead to +where the Ellison brothers, putting their strength into their work, were +showing several rods of clear water between them and the two nearest +canoes, which were going along side by side.</p> + +<p>"They've got the race won in the first five minutes," said Henry Burns. +"See Tom and Bob take it easy till they get limbered up."</p> + +<p>The two thus indicated were, indeed, setting an example worthy to be +followed. They had started off at an easy, regular stroke, one which +they could keep up for hours and increase when they should see fit. They +were paying no attention to the leading canoe, but were exchanging a +word or two with the Warrens, who were striving to imitate their course +and pace.</p> + +<p>The first mile and a half that intervened between the starting point and +the Ellison dam was quickly covered. The Ellison boys, still leading, +were out on shore and carrying their canoe up the bank when the others +were still some rods away. It was a steep pitch of the shore, and Tom +and Bob, when they came to it, took it leisurely, saving their wind. The +others followed, in like fashion. Harvey and Henry Burns were the last +to make the portage.</p> + +<p>Once around the dam, on higher level, the canoes were launched again, +and the race continued.</p> + +<p>A little way up the shore from the dam, Tom and Bob and the Warren boys, +some distance ahead of the rear canoe, saw an odd little figure swinging +and swaying in the top of a birch tree overhanging the water. The +Ellison boys had passed her unnoticed. Her bit of skirt fluttering, and +her hair waving, showed that the occupant of this novel swing was a +girl.</p> + +<p>All at once, to their horror, she seemed to slip and fall. Down she came +from her perch, struck the water with a splash and sank beneath the +surface.</p> + +<p>Tom and Bob, driving their paddles into the water with desperate energy, +darted on ahead of the Warren boys, who bent to the paddles and shot +after them. The two canoes fairly flew through the water, while the four +occupants gazed anxiously ahead over the surface for signs of the girl's +reappearance.</p> + +<p>To their amazement, a laughing voice hailed them most unexpectedly, from +shore. They looked toward the bank, where, just emerging, dripping wet, +the girl was waving a hand to them.</p> + +<p>"How was that for a dive?" she called, pushing her wet hair back from +her eyes, and looking at them roguishly.</p> + +<p>"Bully!" exclaimed George Warren, wiping the drops of perspiration from +his forehead. "We thought you had fallen. My, but it gave me a scare."</p> + +<p>The girl's eyes danced with merriment. Then espying the other canoe +coming up, she called, "Hello, you back again? Look out Ellison don't +catch you."</p> + +<p>"It's Bess Thornton," said Henry Burns, and the two boys called out a +greeting to her.</p> + +<p>"Say, do you know Tim Reardon?" she asked abruptly.</p> + +<p>"Why, yes," answered Henry Burns. "Should say we did."</p> + +<p>"Well," said Bess Thornton, "tell him you saw me dive from the tree, +will you? He didn't think I dared, when I told him." Then she added, +laughing, "Don't get rained on again. But if you do, remember the mill." +And she danced away, wringing the water from the hem of her short +skirt.</p> + +<p>"Confound her!" exclaimed Harvey. "Look at the start Jim and John have +got. Come on, Henry."</p> + +<p>They pushed on again, Tom and Bob soon taking the lead of the three rear +canoes, with a strong steady stroke that meant business. The first canoe +was by this time a quarter of a mile ahead.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VIII" id="CHAPTER_VIII"></a>CHAPTER VIII</h2> + +<h3>CONQUERING THE RAPIDS</h3> + + +<p>This part of the stream, for some two miles above the Ellison dam, was +deep, still water, lying between quite steep banks, and there was little +perceptible current. So that now, the water being unruffled by any wind, +the four canoes shot ahead at good speed, retaining generally their +relative positions.</p> + +<p>Tom and Bob gradually quickened their stroke, hoping to make some slight +but sure gain on the leaders; but the Ellison brothers were evidently of +a mind to hold their lead as long as possible, and continued to do so. +This, however, was at the cost of some extra exertion, which might tell +in the long run.</p> + +<p>In the course of half an hour, after leaving the dam, the current began +to flow faster against them; now and then it came down over shoals of +quite an incline, so that they made better headway by getting out their +setting-poles and using them, instead of the paddles.</p> + +<p>Then, at a point a mile farther up stream, they came to rapids of some +considerable extent, flowing quite swiftly and boiling here and there +around sunken rocks. The Ellison brothers had avoided this place, and +were to be seen now, on the right bank of the shore, carrying their +canoe with difficulty.</p> + +<p>The shore here was broken up by the out-cropping of ledges, amid the +breaks of which a canoe must be carried with great care, as a false step +would mean a bad fall and perhaps the smashing of the canoe. The only +other alternative, besides the water, was to make a long detour through +the off-lying fields, with loss of time.</p> + +<p>Tom and Bob guided their craft swiftly in to land and proceeded to drag +it ashore, as the Ellison boys had done. The Warren brothers followed, +and Jack Harvey was turning his canoe in the same direction when a word +from his companion caused him to cease paddling.</p> + +<p>"Jack," said Henry Burns, "I think we could make the rapids. What do you +say? If we win out, we may be in time to call the Ellison fellows back."</p> + +<p>It was a rule of the race that, if a canoe succeeded in ascending any +difficult place in the stream, the successful pair was entitled to call +back any of the other canoes that were still carrying around the place, +and make them do likewise. If, however, any of the canoeists had made +the carry completely, and had launched their craft above, they could not +be called back.</p> + +<p>The Ellison brothers were about half way up the carry at this time.</p> + +<p>"I don't think we could do it, Henry," answered Harvey, to the other's +suggestion. "We could get part of the way up, all right, but the last +few rods are too steep."</p> + +<p>He pointed, as he spoke, to the upper incline of the rapids, which was, +indeed, much sharper than the first of the ascent, bending over from the +higher level of the stream abruptly, like a sheet of rounded, polished +ebony; flowing smoothly but with great swiftness; then broken here and +there below with rocks, sharp and jagged, and foaming threateningly as +it whirled past them.</p> + +<p>"I think we can do it, Jack," insisted Henry Burns, quietly. "I remember +the place. The water was a little higher when we came through in the +rain; but we ran these rapids, and don't you remember, half way down +that steepest part, we thought we were going to hit a sunken ledge—just +to the right of the middle of the slope?"</p> + +<p>"Why, yes, seems to me I do," replied Harvey, gazing ahead. "But I +didn't care much what we hit that evening, I was so wet and tired."</p> + +<p>"Well, look now," continued Henry Burns. "You can see the water whirling +at that very spot. The ledge doesn't show above water, but it's there. +What's the matter with working up to that, hanging on it till we get +rested, and then make one quick push up over the top?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, well," said Harvey, "I'm game. You seem to guess things right. +We'll try it, anyway."</p> + +<p>They pushed on into the first of the rapids, while the Ellison brothers, +turning and espying what they were attempting, redoubled their efforts +to make the carry. Tom and Bob cast a glance back, and also continued +along the carry; but George and Arthur Warren, having seen Henry Burns's +schemes work successfully before, turned and came out to the rapids. +There they waited, ready to make the attempt should they see it prove +successful, or to be in a position to put hurriedly for shore should it +prove a failure.</p> + +<p>"Better come on. You're wasting time," called Tom Harris once, as he set +his end of their canoe down on a shelf of ledge. But Henry Burns made no +reply, while Harvey only waved his paddle defiantly.</p> + +<p>For several rods, Harvey and Henry Burns made fair progress, working +quick and sharp, plying their paddles with rapid thrusts. Little clumps +of white froth floated fast by them, indicating the swift running of the +water, and its disturbance. Then the stronger current caught them, and +they barely forged ahead. By the appearance of the water, looking down +upon it as they struggled, they seemed to be flying; but it was the +water, and not they, that was moving rapidly. They hung close by the +little points of projecting ledge for moments at a time, making no +headway. They redoubled their efforts, drove their paddles through the +water with desperate energy, and gained the first mark they had set.</p> + +<p>Slowly the bow of the canoe crept up to a spot where the keen eyes of +Henry Burns had noted the sunken ledge, at a point only a rod from the +upper incline. This ledge did not show above water, but the boiling of +the stream and an almost imperceptible sloping of the surface on either +hand showed that it was there.</p> + +<p>Henry Burns leaned over the side of the canoe and gazed anxiously. +Should the water there prove deeper than he had hoped, they would not +ground, and must be carried back, their strength exhausted. But he had +not been mistaken.</p> + +<p>In a moment the water suddenly shallowed. A hard thrust with the +paddles, and the canoe grated gently.</p> + +<p>"Easy, Jack," cried Henry Burns. "She's hit. Get out the pole."</p> + +<p>Harvey seized the setting-pole from the bottom of the canoe, dropping +his paddle in its place. He thrust it quick and with all his strength +into the swift-running water. At a depth of about three feet it caught +the rocky bottom and held. Harvey braced with the pole and shoved the +bow of the canoe, which had touched on the part of the ledge that was +close to the surface, a little farther ahead.</p> + +<p>"Great!" shouted Henry Burns. "Take it easy now. She'll stay if the pole +don't slip."</p> + +<p>Harvey relaxed his exertions, holding the pole at an angle sufficient to +keep the canoe where it was, with only slight pressure. Henry Burns, +dropping his own paddle and likewise taking up his setting-pole, got a +grip in the rocks and aided his companion. They could rest now, with the +swift water rushing past them on either bow, and recover their wind and +strength for the final struggle.</p> + +<p>Their plan was, when they should have rested, to let the canoe drop back +about a foot, enough to clear the sunken ledge; then, before the current +should catch them, to shove out into it quickly, turn the bow of the +canoe to meet the rush of the rapids, and push over with the poles, by +main strength. They could do it, if, as Henry Burns expressed it, the +canoe "did not get away from them."</p> + +<p>The five minutes they waited seemed like hours. Away up along the carry, +they could see the Ellison brothers, lifting their canoe across the +broken bits of shore; Tom and Bob some way behind these, hurrying as +fast as they dared over the treacherous footing. But now, as they +gathered their strength, and gently shoved their canoe back, a cry from +Tom, who had noted their move, arrested the progress of the Ellison +boys. They paused for a moment and, with Tom and Bob, watched the +outcome, eagerly.</p> + +<p>Alas! it was sharp and bitter for Henry Burns. The canoe hung for a +moment, as they arrested its drifting with strong thrusts of the poles. +Then it shot ahead, as they pushed its nose diagonally out into the +sharp slope of the rapids. Henry Burns thrust his pole down hard, as +they cleared the sunken ledge, to swing the bow straight into the +current. But the bottom proved treacherous.</p> + +<p>It was all over so quickly that neither he nor Harvey knew hardly how it +had happened. He only knew that the pole did not catch, but instead, +struck the slippery face of a smooth bit of the rocky channel, slipped, +gave way, and that he barely recovered his balance to avoid going +overboard.</p> + +<p>The next moment, the canoe had swung around, receiving the full force of +the current broadside. A moment more, they were running with it and +being borne down to where George and Arthur Warren greeted them with +cries—not all sympathetic—of "hard luck."</p> + +<p>They had hardly got their canoe under control and turned it into an +eddy, and had realized the unhappy turn of affairs, when a shout of +derision and triumph came down to them from the Ellisons. They had made +the carry successfully and were launching their canoe in the smooth +water above.</p> + +<p>The Warren boys lost no time in paddling for shore. Tom and Bob, seeing +the discomfiture of their rivals, quickly picked up their canoe and +proceeded along the carry. Harvey looked inquiringly at Henry Burns, who +turned, smiling and unruffled.</p> + +<p>"Well?" said Harvey, "got enough?"</p> + +<p>"No," replied Henry Burns, and added deliberately, with a twinkle in his +eyes, "we might as well do it, now we've started. We've got two days to +get up over there in, you know."</p> + +<p>"Good for you!" exclaimed Harvey. "Come on, if you're ready. We've got +time yet before Tom and Bob make the carry."</p> + +<p>They bent to the paddles and got once more to the sunken ledge, panting +and perspiring, for they had worked hard and the current seemed, +therefore, even swifter now than before. There, holding their canoe in +place, they waited a little longer than on the first attempt, to rest +and study the current.</p> + +<p>"Let's try the right hand from the ledge this time," said Henry Burns. +"Those whirls mean shallow places. Perhaps the bottom isn't so +slippery."</p> + +<p>He pointed at some almost imperceptible breaks in the ebony surface of +the slope, and Harvey agreed.</p> + +<p>"I can shove this canoe up over there as sure as you're alive," said +Harvey, gazing proudly at a pair of muscular arms that were certainly +eloquent of strength; "that is, if you can keep her head straight. Don't +try to do much of the poling. Just try to hold what I gain each time, +till I can get a fresh hold. What do you say—rested enough?"</p> + +<p>"Aye, aye, captain," replied Henry Burns, coolly. "Up we go."</p> + +<p>Again the canoe dropped back a little from the ledge, and again they +caught and held it and shoved out into the current—this time on the +right, instead of the left side.</p> + +<p>Their comrades ashore watched anxiously. They saw the canoe strike the +swift running of the water and hang for a moment, as if irresolute, +uncertain whether it would turn its bow upstream or be swerved +broadside. The moment it hung there seemed minutes in duration. They saw +Henry Burns, lithe and agile, but cool and self-possessed, strike his +pole into the slope of the water where he had seen a shallow spot. And +the pole held.</p> + +<p>The watchers ashore saw the canoe slowly turn and face the swift +current, lying upon its polished slope as though upon a sheet of glass. +They saw Harvey in the stern set his pole and shove mightily, his +muscles knotted and his face drawn and grim with determination. They saw +the canoe slowly gain against the current.</p> + + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<div class="figcenter"> +<a name="illus3" id="illus3"></a> +<img src="images/illus3.jpg" alt=""/> +</div> + +<h3>"THE WATCHERS ASHORE SAW THE CANOE SLOWLY TURN AND FACE +THE SWIFT CURRENT."</h3> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + + + +<p>At the edge of the slope it stood still for what seemed an age. They saw +the two in bow and stern struggle desperately again and again to wrest +their craft from the clutch of the current. Then, almost with a leap, +freed from the fierce resistance of the rapids, the canoe slid over the +brink of the incline, into the deeper part of the stream above.</p> + +<p>A moment later, they saw the poles dropped and the paddles snatched up. +The canoe shot swiftly ahead, propelled by triumphant arms. The rapids +were conquered. Henry Burns and Harvey had won their hard fight.</p> + +<p>In vain had Tom and Bob, hurrying recklessly, bumping their canoe along +the rough shore, essayed to complete the carry before it would be too +late. To their chagrin and dismay, the sound of a horn blown three times +with a vigour announced to them the triumph of their comrades. Sadly +they shouldered their canoe, which they had set down at the first blast +of the horn, and turned their faces back along the trail, toward the +foot of the rapids.</p> + +<p>Likewise, the Warren boys, accepting the inevitable, turned back and +prepared to attempt the difficult feat which they had seen accomplished. +At all events, they were, by reason of their position in the rear of Tom +and Bob, in possession of that much advantage over the more skilled +canoeists.</p> + +<p>"Whew! but that was a tough one," exclaimed Harvey, dipping his paddle +leisurely, and recovering his breath. "Say, look at poor old Tom and +Bob—the champion canoeists. Bet they feel sore."</p> + +<p>Henry Burns turned, looked back and smiled. Then, gazing up stream +again, he said, "Yes, but look there."</p> + +<p>At a bend of the stream, fully a half mile ahead, the first canoe was +gliding easily along.</p> + +<p>Harvey groaned. "And they'd be back there, too," he exclaimed, "if we +hadn't made that slip. Never mind, there's another day coming."</p> + +<p>It seemed a long, long time, and they, themselves, had reached a point +fully a half mile above the rapids, before they espied first one canoe +and then another achieving the incline. They could not discern which was +in the lead, but it proved later to be the canoe handled by Tom and Bob, +the Warrens having made two failures before succeeding, giving time to +the others to come up and pass them. They were about abreast now, coming +along slowly.</p> + +<p>It was smooth paddling now, along the shores of green meadows and +pasture land, until noon arrived. Then, at the signal of four blasts of +the horn, by Harvey, answered in turn by all the others above and below, +the canoes were drawn out on shore and luncheon was eaten. They built no +fires, but ate what they had brought, cold. With an hour to rest in, +the leaders strolled back to where Harvey and Henry Burns were, and +chaffed them good-naturedly on their failure to make them take the +rapids, and over their own strong lead. To which, Harvey and Henry +Burns, being good sportsmen, replied good-humouredly, assuring the +Ellisons they should beat them on "the next hard place."</p> + +<p>The other canoeists remained where they were, and ate their luncheons +together.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_IX" id="CHAPTER_IX"></a>CHAPTER IX</h2> + +<h3>AN EXCITING FINISH</h3> + + +<p>When, at about two o'clock that afternoon, the sound of the horn, blown +four times by Jack Harvey, announced that the race was resumed, there +was a do-or-die expression on the faces of Tom Harris and Bob White. +Harvey and Henry Burns were a good half mile ahead of them; the Ellisons +fully a mile.</p> + +<p>Not that this was disheartening to athletic lads in good training, who +had learned in many a contest of skill and strength to accept a result +fairly won, even though they were beaten. On the contrary, here was a +contest worth the winning, now that the odds were against them. Their +first pique, over the clever move of Henry Burns that had set them back +in the race, having subsided, they were ready to give him credit for +carrying it out.</p> + +<p>But they were still bound to win. So that soon, settling down to a +strong, vigorous stroke, which had often carried them over miles of +rough water in Samoset Bay, they gradually drew ahead of George and +Arthur Warren. They seemed tireless. Their muscles, trained and +hardened, worked like well oiled machinery. In vain the Warren brothers +strove to keep up the pace. They were forced finally to fall back. That +quick, powerful thrust of the paddles, as Tom and Bob struck the water +with perfect precision, sent the light canoe spurting ahead in a way +that could not be equalled by less trained rivals.</p> + +<p>Henry Burns and Jack Harvey, toiling manfully, seemed to feel that they, +too, were being out-paddled; for ever and again one of them would glance +back over his shoulder; after which he would strike the water with a +sharper thrust, and the canoe would respond to the fresh endeavour.</p> + +<p>"They'll gain some," said Henry Burns once, calmly. "We can't help that. +They've had too many years of it, not to be able to set a stronger pace. +But they can't catch us in one afternoon. If they do, we're beaten. +We'll hold some of our advantage, eh, Jack?"</p> + +<p>"You bet we will!" exclaimed Harvey, jabbing the water savagely. "I'm +going to make a gain, myself, if only for a spurt."</p> + +<p>So saying, he called to his companion to "give it to 'em lively," and +they set a pace for the next fifteen minutes that did, indeed, exceed +the speed at which Tom and Bob were travelling. But spurts such as that +would not win a two days' race. Gradually they fell back into their +normal swing, and Tom and Bob crept up on them once more.</p> + +<p>The Ellisons, too, were feeling the strain of the long test of skill and +endurance. Now, as the afternoon hours went by, their stroke fell off +slower and slower. Heavier built somewhat than Tom and Bob, their +muscles, hardened and more sluggish with harder work, did not respond to +the call. Harvey and Henry Burns were gaining on them; and Tom and Bob +were gaining on both.</p> + +<p>On went the four canoes; up rapids or around them, as proved necessary +according to the depth of the water. Harvey and Henry Burns, seeing they +were gaining on the leaders, would take no more chances on questionable +rapids, but carried around those that the Ellisons did. Tom and Bob and +the Warrens also took the readiest way around each difficulty.</p> + +<p>Had the race a few more hours to run for that afternoon, it is certain +Tom and Bob must have overtaken and passed their rivals. But now the +time for the end of the first day's contest was at hand, and presently +Harvey, after a glance at his watch, lifted the horn to his lips. Four +blasts sounded far up and down the still waters, and four answering +blasts came from each canoe. The first day's race was done. The canoes +headed for shore. It was six o'clock, and the Ellisons were still in the +lead.</p> + +<p>But the margin was not now so great. Between them and the nearest canoe +there was not over a quarter of a mile of winding stream. Harvey and +Henry Burns had done well. But Tom and Bob had accomplished even more. +Scarcely more than an eighth of a mile intervened between their craft +and the canoe of Harvey and Henry Burns. The Warrens had paddled +gamely, also, but were fully three quarters of a mile behind the +leaders.</p> + +<p>Leaving their canoes drawn up on shore, at precisely the spot where each +had been at the sound of the horn, the boys met together now and shook +hands all around. It was clean, honest sport, and no mean jealousy.</p> + +<p>"But look out for to-morrow," said Tom Harris, good-naturedly shaking a +fist at Jim Ellison.</p> + +<p>They brought forth now from each canoe a light frame-work of three +bamboo poles, standards and cross-piece, and a thin, unbleached cotton +"A" tent, and quickly pitched the four tents on a level piece of ground, +in a semi-circle. The tents were flimsy affairs, light to carry, and +would not do in rainy weather; but they had picked their day, and it was +clear and no danger of a wetting.</p> + +<p>Then, for there had been a careful division of weight, each canoe +furnished some necessary article for getting the supper: a pail for +boiling coffee from one, fry-pan from another, and so on; with bacon for +frying, and bread and potatoes. They soon had a fire going in the open +space in front of the four tents, with a log rolled close to it, and the +coffee-pail hung on a crotched stick, set aslant the log and braced in +the ground. The bacon sizzled later in the pan, set on some glowing +coals. The potatoes were buried in the hot ashes, under the blaze, just +out of reach of burning.</p> + +<p>The canoeists stretched themselves on the ground around the fire, +hungry and healthfully wearied. Twilight was upon them when all was +ready, and they had removed the feast away from the warmth of the fire, +piling on more wood and making it blaze up brightly for its cheer.</p> + +<p>Then they fell to with amazing appetites; and the amount of crisp bacon +and hot potatoes and bread they made way with would have appalled the +proprietor of the Half Way House, or any other hotel keeper, if he had +had to supply it. Then, when they had startled the cattle in near-by +pastures with a few songs, heartily if not so musically bawled, they +were ready to turn in for the night, almost with the glowing of the +first stars. It was surprising how soon they were off to sleep, each +rolled in his single blanket, slumbering soundly on the bare turf.</p> + +<p>"Well?" remarked Henry Burns inquiringly, next morning, sitting up and +looking at his companion, who had scarcely got his eyes open. Harvey +gave a yawn, stretched and roused up. "I feel fine," he answered. "Lame +any?" "Not a bit," replied Henry Burns.</p> + +<p>Stepping outside the tent, he found, to his surprise, Tom and Bob +already up and their tent and blankets snugly packed and stowed.</p> + +<p>"Have a plunge?" asked Bob.</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Henry Burns. "Come on, Jack?"</p> + +<p>The four went down to the shore, leaving the others still finishing +their morning naps. One quick plunge and they were out again, ready for +breakfast. It was plain they were ready for the day's race. So said Jim +and John Ellison, when they were out, some minutes later. But Henry +Burns gave a sly wink at Harvey, as his sharp eye observed the motions +of the brothers when they came to strike their tent. Nor did he fail to +note the quickness with which Jim Ellison dropped his right arm, when he +had raised it once over his head.</p> + +<p>"Just a bit lame," said Henry Burns, softly. "We'll give it to 'em hard +at the start, before they get limbered up."</p> + +<p>Breakfast eaten, and the camp equipments stowed, they all proceeded now +to the spot where the Ellisons' canoe was drawn ashore. There they set +up a pole cut for the purpose. It marked the turning point of the race. +At the signal, the Ellisons could start down stream from there; and each +canoe must go up stream to that point before it could begin its home +run.</p> + +<p>It was a race now, as Henry Burns expressed it, for glory and for +dinner. They had eaten their stock of food and would stop for nothing +more till they reached camp. They had covered some fifteen miles of +water, up stream against rapids and the current, in the preceding day's +paddling; but they could make it down stream in about half the time.</p> + +<p>They were soon afloat now, for Harvey was impatient to be off, and he +was by consent the one to give the signal. The Ellison brothers would +gladly have delayed, but Harvey, at a word from Henry Burns, was firm.</p> + +<p>They took their places, struck the water together at the sound of the +horn, and the second day's race was begun.</p> + +<p>Confident as were the occupants of the second and third canoes, it was a +bit disconcerting, at the outset, to see the leaders go swiftly past +them on the way down stream, while they had still to go on against the +current up to the turning point. Moreover, the leading canoe quickly +caught a patch of swift running water, which the Ellisons had carried +around the day before, but could run now, by merely guiding their canoe. +So, at the start, they made an encouraging gain, and turned once, at the +foot of some rapids, to wave back defiance at their opponents.</p> + +<p>Skill and training were bound to tell, however. In the miles that were +reeled off rapidly now, the second and third canoes gained on the +leaders in the calm, still, sluggish places. There was more spring and +snap to their muscles. Their canoes moved faster through the water.</p> + +<p>Eight miles down stream, they were overhauling the foremost canoe +rapidly, the canoes of Tom and Bob and Henry Burns and Harvey being +nearly abreast, and the four straining every nerve and muscle. The +Warrens had fallen at least a half mile behind them.</p> + +<p>Luck had been with the Ellisons, surely; for running rapids in shallow +water is most uncertain work. Tom and Bob, old canoeists, knew well the +appearance of water that denotes a sunken rock, and by sheer skill and +watchfulness turned their canoe aside ever and again with a quick sweep +of the paddles, to avoid a treacherous place, where the water whirled +ominously. Henry Burns and Harvey had lately come down the stream, and +knew by that experience how easy it was to get hung up when it was least +expected.</p> + +<p>Yet, with all experience, now and again a canoe would grate and perhaps +hang for a moment in some rapid; and once, when the canoe of Tom and Bob +would have shot ahead of Harvey's, they went hard aground, and lost +precious minutes.</p> + +<p>When they were within a mile of the rapids where Henry Burns had won +honours on the preceding day, however, Tom and Bob had shown the proof +of their superior training and skill; they were leading Harvey and Henry +Burns and were close upon the leaders.</p> + +<p>"Cheer up, Jack," said Henry Burns, coolly, to his comrade; "they ought +to win, but we've given them a good race, anyway. Something may happen +yet."</p> + +<p>And something did happen—but not to the canoe steered by Tom Harris.</p> + +<p>The three foremost canoes were now upon the brink of the worst rapids, +and each youth was bracing himself for the run. They saw the Ellisons +shoot quickly over the brink, go swiftly down the smooth incline into +the rougher water. All at once, the canoe seemed to be checked abruptly +and hang for a moment. Then it slid on again. But the damage had been +done. A sharp point of ledge had penetrated the canvas, and the canoe +was leaking.</p> + +<p>Down went the two next canoes, one after the other; deftly handled; +sheering a little this way and that, as the watchful eyes detected the +signs of danger; riding gallantly through the frothing, fretting rapids +into clear water beyond. Their pace was not abated much as they got into +their swing again, and, one by one, they passed the Ellisons. The +latter's canoe, encumbered by water that leaked slightly but steadily +through the rent in the canvas, dragged somewhat and had to be bailed +before they had gone a half mile further.</p> + +<p>That afternoon, a boy, barefoot and hatless, stood by the shore at a +point a little way above the Ellison dam, anxiously watching up stream +as far as he could see. That he was intensely excited was evident by the +way he fidgeted about; and once he climbed a birch tree that overhung +the water and gazed away from that perch.</p> + +<p>"Hello, Tim," said a voice close by him, suddenly. "What are you looking +for?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, hello, Bess," responded Tim Reardon, turning about in surprise. +"How you startled me! I'm watching for the canoes—don't you know about +it? Cracky, but don't I hope Jack'll win."</p> + +<p>"Why don't you go out on the logs?" queried the girl. "You can see up +stream farther from there. Come on."</p> + +<p>Without waiting for a reply, Bess Thornton darted out across a +treacherous pathway of light cedar and spruce logs that lay, confined +by a log-boom, waiting to be sawed into shingle stuff; for the old mill +occasionally did that work, also, as well as grinding corn. Many of the +logs were not of sufficient size to support even the girl's light +weight, but sank beneath her, wetting her bare feet. She sprang lightly +from one to another, pausing now and then to rest and balance herself on +some larger log that sustained her. Little Tim, equally at home about +the water, followed.</p> + +<p>The boom confining this lot of logs was made of larger and longer logs, +chained together at the ends, and extending in a long irregular line +from a point up the shore down toward the dam, to a point just above the +landing place for the canoes. Tim Reardon and Bess Thornton ran along +this boom as far as it extended up stream.</p> + +<p>Presently Little Tim gave a yell and nearly pitched head-first into the +stream.</p> + +<p>"They're coming! they're coming!" he cried. "Who's ahead? Can you see?"</p> + +<p>The next moment he gave an exclamation of dismay. Two canoes shot around +a bend of the stream, one not far behind the other—but the second +canoe, to Little Tim's disappointment, that guided by Jack Harvey. Tom +and Bob had a fair lead, and, by the way they were putting life into +their strokes, seemed likely to maintain it.</p> + +<p>"Ow wow," bawled Little Tim. "Come on, Jack! Come on, Henry! You can +beat 'em yet. Give it to 'em!"</p> + +<p>Bess Thornton, catching the enthusiasm and spirit of her companion, and +espying who the occupants of the second canoe were, added her cries of +encouragement to those of Little Tim.</p> + +<p>But the leaders came on steadily and surely, heading in slightly toward +the point on shore where they would disembark to make the carry about +the dam.</p> + +<p>Away up the stream, two more canoes could be seen, about abreast, the +four boys plying their paddles with all the strength in them.</p> + +<p>So the leading canoe passed the boy and girl, Little Tim yelling himself +hoarse, with encouragement to Harvey and Henry Burns to come on. Surely +if there had been any impelling power in noise, Tim's cries would have +turned the scale in favour of his friends.</p> + +<p>The leading canoe touched shore, and Tom and Bob sprang lightly out; +snatched up their craft and were off up the bank, to make the carry. +Henry Burns and Harvey headed in to do likewise. But now Bess Thornton, +catching Tim suddenly by an arm, started back down the boom, saying to +him, "Come on quick." He, surprised, wondering what she meant, followed.</p> + +<p>The girl ran swiftly along the line of logs to a point a little way +above the dam. There the line of the boom swung inshore in a sweep to +the left. To the right of them, as they stood, was the deep, black +water, flowing powerfully in the middle of the stream, and with a strong +current, toward an opening in the dam. This was the long flume, a steep, +long incline, down which the water of the stream raced with great +velocity. It was built to carry rafts of logs through from time to +time—a chute, planked in on either side, with the entrance formed by +the cutting down of the top of the dam there a few feet. There was no +great depth of water in the flume—no one seemed to know just how much. +It depended on the height of water in the stream.</p> + +<p>Now the girl, waving to Harvey and Henry Burns, cried shrilly for them +to watch. Surprised, they ceased their paddling for a moment and looked +over to where she stood.</p> + +<p>To their amazement and Little Tim's horror, the girl, barefoot and +bare-armed, and clad in a light calico frock, gave a laugh and dived +into the stream. A moment more, she reappeared a few feet from the boom, +and was unmistakably heading for the swift water beyond running down to +the flume.</p> + +<p>"Come back!" cried Little Tim. "You'll get drowned there. You're going +into the flume."</p> + +<p>The girl turned on her side as she swam, calling out:</p> + +<p>"Tell 'em to come on. They'll beat the others. I've been through once +before."</p> + +<p>Again she turned, while Little Tim stood with knees shaking. Henry Burns +and Harvey, seeing the girl's apparent peril, uttered each an +exclamation of alarm, and headed out once more into the stream.</p> + +<p>But they were helpless. A moment more, and they saw the girl caught by +the swift rush of the water. Waving an arm just as she went over the +edge of the incline, she straightened out and lay at full length, so as +to keep as nearly as she could at the surface. She disappeared, and they +waited what seemed an age, but was scarcely more than two minutes. Then, +all at once, there came up to their ears, from far below, the clear, +yodelling cry of Bess Thornton. She had gone safely through.</p> + +<p>It was a serious moment for Tim Reardon. There wasn't a better swimmer +of his size in all Benton. Only a few of the larger lads dared to dive +with him from the very top of Pulpit Rock, a high point on the bank of +the stream, some miles below. Now he was stumped by a girl no bigger +than himself, and he felt his knees wabbling in uncertain fashion at the +thought of attempting the flume. And there was his big friend, Harvey, +and Henry Burns, waiting out on the water, uncertain as to what they +should do. He might aid them to win the race. Or he might hang back, be +beaten, himself, by a girl, and Harvey and Henry Burns would lose.</p> + +<p>Little Tim gazed for one moment out into midstream, to where the water, +black and gleaming, rushed smoothly and swiftly into the opening of the +sluice-way. Then he got his voice under control as best he could, waved +toward the canoe and shouted:</p> + +<p>"Come on, Jack. I'll show yer. It's e-e-asy."</p> + +<p>Little Tim shut his eyes, swallowed a lump in his throat, dived from the +boom and made a long swim under water. When he reappeared, he was near +the swift current, a little way below where the canoe lay.</p> + +<p>"Come on, fellers," he cried again—and the next moment Henry Burns and +Harvey saw him disappear over the edge of the dam. It seemed as though +there had been hardly time for him to be borne down to the foot of the +descent before they heard his voice, calling triumphantly back to them.</p> + +<p>Henry Burns turned and gave one quick, inquiring glance at his +companion. In return, Harvey gave a whistle that denoted his surprise at +the odd turn of affairs, and said shortly, "Got to do it now. We can go +through if they can. Hang that girl! Get a good brace now. Gimminy, look +at that water run!"</p> + +<p>They were on the very brink, as he spoke; and, even as he muttered the +last exclamation, the canoe dipped to the incline of the chute and went +darting down its smooth surface. They hardly saw the sides of the flume +as they shot by. Almost instantly, it seemed, they were in the tumbling, +boiling waters at the foot of it, Henry Burns crouching low in the bow, +so as not to be pitched overboard; Harvey bracing for one moment with +his paddle and striking the water furiously the next, to keep it on its +course.</p> + +<p>The canoe shipped water, and they feared it would be swamped; but they +kept on. Then, as they swept past a jutting of ledge that bordered the +lower shore, two figures standing together waved to them and cried out +joyously:</p> + +<p>"Paddle hard! Go it, Jack! Give it to her, Henry! You're way ahead. +They're not half 'round the bank yet. Hooray!"</p> + +<p>Spurred by the cries, the two canoeists plied their paddles with renewed +zeal. So on they emerged into smooth water. Away up the bank, Tom and +Bob, dismayed, saw their rivals take the lead in the long race—a lead +that could not be overcome.</p> + +<p>Sitting up proudly, Henry Burns and Harvey raced past the familiar +shores, saw the old camp come into view, shot across the finishing line, +and the race was won. Standing on the bank, they watched the others come +trailing in: Tom and Bob not far behind; the Warren boys third, and the +Ellisons last.</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Tom Harris, good-naturedly, as they sat outside the camp a +little later, "but you had to get a girl to show you how to beat us."</p> + +<p>"How'd you know you could go through there, anyway?" he added, turning +to the girl who, with Little Tim had come down the shore to see the +finish.</p> + +<p>"Did it to get away from gran' once," replied Bess Thornton, her eyes +twinkling. "My, but wasn't she scared. It's easy, though, isn't it, +Tim?"</p> + +<p>"Easy! It's nothin'," said Little Tim.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_X" id="CHAPTER_X"></a>CHAPTER X</h2> + +<h3>HENRY BURNS MAKES A GIFT</h3> + + +<p>It was evening, and the streets of Benton's shopping section were +lighted; the illumination of windows serving to display the attractions +arranged therein to best advantage. The night was warm and pleasant, and +the passers-by moved leisurely, enjoying the sights, or pausing now and +then to gaze in, as some object caught their eye.</p> + +<p>Three boys, sauntering along one of the principal thoroughfares, stopped +abruptly as one of their number called them to a halt and pointed on +ahead. The object to which he pointed was a fourth youth, who was +standing, with hands in his pockets, intently absorbed in the display in +one of the shop windows.</p> + +<p>"Sh-h-h!" whispered young Joe Warren to his companions, his brother +George and Bob White, "look at Henry Burns. My, but that's rich. We've +got one on him, all right. Hold on, let's come up on him easy."</p> + +<p>The boys drew a little nearer to Henry Burns, grinning broadly. Henry +Burns, all unmindful of such concerted observation, continued to gaze in +at the brilliantly lighted window.</p> + +<p>The contents of the window-case were, indeed, such as one would hardly +have supposed to be of interest to a youth of his age. The shop was one +of Benton's largest dry-goods establishments, and the particular window +was devoted wholly to an assortment of women's and misses' dresses. +Several more or less life-like figures, arrayed in garments of the +season, occupied prominent positions in the display.</p> + +<p>Directly in line with Henry Burns's vision was one of these: the figure +of a girl, dressed in a neat summer sailor suit, the yellow curls of the +head surmounted with a dashing sailor hat; its waxen cheeks tinted a +most decided pink; its blue, staring eyes apparently returning the gaze +of Henry Burns, unabashed at his admiration.</p> + +<p>There was no mistaking Henry Burns's desire to form a closer +acquaintance with the wax figure, for presently he approached closer to +the window and stood studying it with undisguised interest.</p> + +<p>"Seems to like the looks of her, don't he?" chuckled Young Joe, nudging +Bob White and doubling up with laughter. "Wish Jack Harvey was here now +to see him. Come on, let's wake him up."</p> + +<p>Approaching softly, the three neared the unsuspecting admirer of the +yellow-haired, waxen miss.</p> + +<p>Still lost in contemplation of her, Henry Burns was suddenly greeted by +a series of yells and hoots of derision that would have done credit to a +wild west performance. Then roars of laughter followed, as he turned and +faced them.</p> + +<p>It was not in the nature of Henry Burns to be startled or easily +disconcerted, however, and, although taken by surprise, he turned slowly +and faced the three.</p> + +<p>"Hello," he said coolly.</p> + +<p>"Hello, Henry," snickered Young Joe. "Say, what's her name?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, who is she?" echoed the other two; whereupon all three went off +again into mingled roars of laughter and yells of delight.</p> + +<p>"Dunno," responded Henry Burns. "I'll go in and ask, though, if you +want."</p> + +<p>"Isn't she sweet?" said Bob White. "How long have you known her?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, not so long as you've known Kitty Clark," replied Henry Burns.</p> + +<p>"Ow! wow!" squealed Young Joe; an exclamation which began in great +satisfaction and terminated in a howl, as he felt the force of a punch +from Bob's vigorous right arm.</p> + +<p>It wasn't so easy getting the best of Henry Burns, in spite of his +disadvantage.</p> + +<p>"Seen Jack?" he inquired.</p> + +<p>"No—yes, there he comes now," answered George Warren, pointing back in +the direction whence they had come.</p> + +<p>Henry Burns left them abruptly, and they went along, calling back at him +mockingly. But he paid little heed. Anyone familiar with the youth would +have known that he had something particular in mind; and in such case, +Henry Burns was not to be turned aside by bantering.</p> + +<p>Some five minutes later, Henry Burns and Harvey stood looking in at the +very same shop window, whither Henry Burns had conducted his companion.</p> + +<p>"Say—er—Jack, what do you think of that?" inquired Henry Burns, +pointing in at the wax figure.</p> + +<p>Harvey looked at his companion and grinned.</p> + +<p>"Think of what!" he exclaimed. "The curls?"</p> + +<p>"No, hang the curls!" said Henry Burns. "The dress."</p> + +<p>Harvey stared at him, open-mouthed.</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes," he said at length, as though endeavouring to grasp the +meaning of so extraordinary an inquiry; "looks like Bob White's sister. +What of it?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, nothing," replied Henry Burns, "only you and I are going to buy +it."</p> + +<p>Harvey's grin expanded.</p> + +<p>"Sure," he responded. "You'd look nice in it, Henry. Only you need the +curls, too—"</p> + +<p>"And give it to Bess Thornton," continued Henry Burns, unmindful of his +comrade's remark.</p> + +<p>Harvey whistled.</p> + +<p>"Well, I'll be skinned if I don't think you're in earnest!" he +exclaimed.</p> + +<p>"I am," said Henry Burns. "It's eight dollars and eighty-seven +cents—marked down—they always are, ain't they? Half of that's four +dollars and something or other apiece. Come in with me?"</p> + +<p>"Not much!" cried Harvey, turning red at the very thought of it. "I'll +pay half, though, if you'll get somebody to buy it. It's worth more than +that to me, to win that race. Well, if you don't beat all thinking up +queer things. What put it into your head?"</p> + +<p>"Why, she spoiled hers, showing us how to come through that sluice, +didn't she?" said Henry Burns.</p> + +<p>"Guess not," replied Harvey. "Spoiled long before that, I reckon. +They're poor enough. Get somebody to buy the dress, and I'll pay for +half, all right."</p> + +<p>"I'm going to buy it now," said Henry Burns, coolly; "that is, if you've +got any money. I've got five dollars."</p> + +<p>Harvey produced his pocket-book and the necessary bills.</p> + +<p>"Gee!" he exclaimed. "I wouldn't do it for a hundred dollars. Go on; +I'll watch you through the window."</p> + +<p>In no wise daunted, Henry Burns, whose critical study of the model and +the garment through the window had satisfied him that the figure was of +Bess Thornton's size, boldly entered the store, calmly made the +purchase, ignored the inquiry of the clerk if he was thinking of getting +married, and returned with it to his companion.</p> + +<p>"Say," exclaimed Harvey, "I don't wonder you learned to sail the +<i>Viking</i> quick as you did. You've got the nerve."</p> + +<p>"Now we've got to take it up there," said Henry Burns.</p> + +<p>Harvey stopped short.</p> + +<p>"Take that dress and give it to a girl?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"No, we won't give it to her," replied his comrade. "She might not like +to have us—and I wouldn't know what to say, would you?"</p> + +<p>"Would I!" exclaimed Harvey.</p> + +<p>"We'll just leave it and cut and run," explained Henry Burns. "Then she +won't know who sent it, and she'll have to keep it. See?"</p> + +<p>"It's most nine o'clock," remarked Harvey.</p> + +<p>"I'm going," said Henry Burns.</p> + +<p>"Oh, well, I'll stand by," said Harvey. "Let's be off, then. It's a good +two miles and a half, nearer three."</p> + +<p>Shortly after, one might have seen the two comrades trudging along the +road leading out of Benton, in the direction of Ellison's mill.</p> + +<p>They walked briskly, and in a little less than three quarters of an hour +a light from a window on a hill-top warned them that they were +approaching the farmhouse of Farmer Ellison. They turned in from the +road that ran along the bank of the stream, and made their way through +his field on the hillside, in the direction of the brook.</p> + +<p>"Does Ellison keep any dog?" asked Harvey, once.</p> + +<p>"I don't know, any more than you do," replied his companion. "Never saw +any. We'll keep well down near the brook, though, so they can't see us +from the house."</p> + +<p>They passed through some clumps of small cedars and thin birches, +stumbling now and then over cradle-knolls and pitching into little +depressions. It was a clear night and starlit, but the shadows in the +half darkness were confusing. A lamp gleamed in the kitchen window, +above them, and they could see someone moving past the window from time +to time.</p> + +<p>"Ellison hasn't gone to bed," remarked Harvey.</p> + +<p>"Well, what of it?" replied Henry Burns. "Not scared of him, are you?"</p> + +<p>"No," answered Harvey. "But he's touchy about this brook. Ever since he +caught Willie Dodd setting a net there one night he's been crazy for +fear he'd lose some of these trout."</p> + +<p>"I know what's the matter with you," said Henry Burns. "It's this dress. +You wouldn't have anyone catch us with it for a million dollars."</p> + +<p>"You bet I wouldn't," answered Harvey.</p> + +<p>Harvey's nerves, usually the steadiest, were not proof against even a +slight alarm; for when, a few moments later, his companion touched him +lightly on an arm and motioned for him to be still, he waited, keyed up +to a high point of excitement and ready for a dash across the fields.</p> + +<p>"What is it?" he whispered.</p> + +<p>"Sh-h!" replied Henry Burns, clutching his bundle tight under one arm, +and peering through the scattered alders, into which they had +penetrated. "I heard a step."</p> + +<p>They waited, anxiously.</p> + +<p>It was Harvey's turn, however, to enjoy a laugh at the expense of his +comrade, as the steps that the quick ear of Henry Burns had heard were +continued, this time with an unmistakable crackling of undergrowth.</p> + +<p>"There's your prowler, Henry," he said, laughing softly and slapping his +friend between the shoulders. "She's got two horns, but I guess she +won't hook, unless she sees through that box and gets a sight of that +dress."</p> + +<p>A look of relief overspread Henry Burns's face, as a Jersey cow stalked +slowly through the brush and stood gazing inquiringly at the two boys. +But, observing her for a moment, it did not escape Henry Burns that the +animal suddenly gave a spring and turned and faced the other way, as +though some noise behind had surprised her.</p> + +<p>Henry Burns clutched his comrade and pointed back past the cow. Harvey's +eyes followed where he pointed.</p> + +<p>The figure of a man was plainly to be seen, stealing along in the +shadows of the clumps of bushes.</p> + +<p>They paused not another instant, but dashed forward, heedless now of the +noise they made, thrusting branches aside and leaping from one knoll to +another where the soil was boggy. At the same moment Farmer Ellison, +brandishing a club, emerged into plain view and darted after them, +crying out as he ran.</p> + +<p>"Stop there!" he shouted. "I'll shoot yer if yer don't stop. I'll have +no nets set in this stream. Just let me lay this club on your backs."</p> + +<p>They only fled the faster.</p> + +<p>"He won't shoot," gasped Henry Burns. "Make for the foot of the dam. +We'll cross the brook."</p> + +<p>As for Harvey, threats of a fire of infantry wouldn't have stopped him. +He followed his slighter companion, who led the way, despite the +incumbrance of the box he carried.</p> + +<p>Through pasture and swamp the chase continued. The boys were fleeter of +foot, but Farmer Ellison knew the ground. And once he skirted a boggy +piece of land and nearly headed them off. They turned toward the brook, +gained its shore and sped along to the foot of the dam. There the water, +diminished by the obstruction, flowed from a little basin out on to +shallower bottom, from which here and there a rock protruded.</p> + +<p>Springing from one to another of these, slipping and splashing to their +knees, aided here and there by a bit of half decayed log or drift-wood, +they got across and scrambled up the opposite bank just as Farmer +Ellison, out of breath, appeared on the nearer shore.</p> + +<p>"You poachers!" he cried, "Ye've got away this time. But look out for +the next. Remember, it's a shotgun full of rock salt and sore legs for +yer if yer come again."</p> + +<p>He seated himself by the foot of the dam, nursing a bruised shin, and +watched them disappear through the fields.</p> + +<p>"Scared 'em some, anyway, I reckon," he remarked. And was most assuredly +correct in that. The two boys had not stopped in their flight, and were +a mile above the crossing before Farmer Ellison turned himself homeward.</p> + +<p>Safe from pursuit at last, Henry Burns threw himself down at the foot of +a tree and laughed till he nearly choked for want of breath.</p> + +<p>"How we did scoot," he said. "Did you see old Ellison slip once and go +into the bog?"</p> + +<p>"I didn't see anything," replied Harvey, "but a pair of legs in front of +me, cutting it through the mud and brush. How's the dress?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, it's all right," said Henry Burns. "Come out if you've got your +wind. We'll leave it and get home."</p> + +<p>They were at a point above Grannie Thornton's cottage, and they +proceeded now cautiously, making a circuit to bring them to the brook +some way above the house, pausing now and then to look and to listen. +But no one disturbed them. Farmer Ellison had had enough of the chase +and had gone home to nurse his shin.</p> + +<p>They came down to the old house. It was dark, and all was still. Harvey +waited on watch near the gate, while Henry Burns stole up to the door +and laid the box down carefully against the front door. Then they sped +away.</p> + +<p>"Go back the way we came?" inquired Henry Burns, slyly.</p> + +<p>"Not much," said Harvey. "Straight out to the main road. No more swamps +for me."</p> + +<p>They went out that way, then; took the main road, passed down by the old +inn and the mill, and swung into a rapid stride for home. It was half +past eleven o'clock when they turned into their beds.</p> + +<p>Two days following this adventure, toward the latter part of the +afternoon, Henry Burns was walking up the same road by the stream, in +the direction of the camp, where he was to meet Tom Harris for a spin in +the canoe. He had heard no footsteps near, and was therefore not a +little surprised when a hand touched his arm and a laugh that was +familiar sounded close by his side.</p> + +<p>He turned quickly, and there was Bess Thornton.</p> + +<p>"Hullo," she said, "I hoped I'd see somebody on the road. I'll walk +along with you."</p> + +<p>Henry Burns said "all right" in a tone that was not over-cordial; for, +though not easily abashed, he was, to tell the truth, just a bit shy +with girls, and wondered what Tom Harris would say if he saw him coming +up the road with Bess.</p> + +<p>Perhaps the girl's quick intuitiveness perceived this, for a mischievous +light danced in her black eyes as she said, "I thought perhaps you'd +like to have company. You would, wouldn't you?"</p> + +<p>"Yes—oh, yes," responded Henry Burns. "Going home from school?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," she answered. "But I didn't want to go this morning, a bit. Gran' +made me, though."</p> + +<p>"What's the matter?" asked Henry Burns.</p> + +<p>"Well," said the girl, "I had to wear this new dress, you see. And when +you wear a new dress they always say things, don't you know? Danny Davis +hollered 'stuck up' once, but I punched him."</p> + +<p>"Good for you," said Henry Burns, laughing. "I'd like to have seen +you—that a new dress?"</p> + +<p>"Course it is," she answered, with a touch of half-offended pride. +"Can't you see it is?"</p> + +<p>Henry Burns made a quick survey of the trim little figure, clad in the +dress that had cost him and Harvey the hard scramble of the recent +night. It was surprising what a difference the pretty suit made in the +appearance of the girl. He made a mental note of the fact that it seemed +just the right size for her, and that she certainly looked very nice in +it. Its dark red set off the black of her glossy hair, and she wore a +neat straw hat that went well with the dress. At least, it looked all +right to Henry Burns.</p> + +<p>"You don't look stuck up," he ventured. "You look first rate."</p> + +<p>He felt the colour come into his cheeks as he said it. It was the first +time in his life that he had ever complimented a girl. They were passing +a dingy little store, with its windows filled with farming tools, odds +and ends of household stuff and some fishing tackle, and he thought it a +good chance to get away.</p> + +<p>"Got an errand in here," he said. "Good-bye."</p> + +<p>Some ten minutes later he emerged, looked sharply up the road and +pursued his journey. He had gone scarcely a rod or two, however, when +the girl's voice brought him to a halt, much taken aback. She was seated +by the stream, close to the water.</p> + +<p>"I thought you'd be along," she said. "I've been watching the pickerel. +There's one sunning himself close to the top of water now, just by the +lily pads. See me hit him."</p> + +<p>She picked up a stone as she spoke, and threw it with surprising ease +and accuracy. It struck the water about six inches from the dark object +to which she had pointed. Henry Burns's chagrin at this second meeting +was lost in admiration.</p> + +<p>"Good shot!" he exclaimed. "How'd you know 'twas a pickerel?"</p> + +<p>"Oh I catch 'em," she answered. "And once in a while I show one to Benny +Ellison so he can shoot it. I don't like him much, though. He's mean +and—fat."</p> + +<p>Henry Burns chuckled.</p> + +<p>"He can't help that," he said.</p> + +<p>"No, but he's always stuffing himself with candy and things," said the +girl. "And he won't ever give you any. I like people that give away +things once in a while, don't you?"</p> + +<p>Henry Burns came the nearest to blushing that he ever had, as he +answered that he guessed he did. There was something in the girl's voice +and manner and in her beaming countenance, telling of her happiness in +the possession of her new finery—though she had feared the ordeal of +wearing it to school, perhaps because of the contrast it made to her +usual garment—that he felt a queer feeling in his throat. But relief +was at hand for him in his embarrassment, for the path that led down to +the camp was in sight, and he bade her good-bye.</p> + +<p>He struck off along the path, through the bushes and thin growth of +woods; but had gone only a little way when the sound of voices, one +sharp and angry, made him pause. He retraced his steps, hurrying as he +recognized the voice of Bess Thornton, the tone of which indicated +grief.</p> + +<p>He emerged into the road in time to see the girl scramble out of a clump +of brakes and burdock plants by the roadside, the tears standing in her +eyes as she picked the burs from the latter out of the new dress. Just +in front of her, noting her distress with satisfaction, stood Benny +Ellison.</p> + +<p>"That's what you get for being so proud," he said bluntly. "You needn't +get so mad, though. I was only in fun."</p> + +<p>The girl's eyes blazed, angrily; but it was not the Bess Thornton of +every day that now faced the youth. Some of her fearlessness and dash +seemed to have departed, with the taking off of the old dress.</p> + +<p>"Let me past," she said, stepping forward; but the boy blocked her way.</p> + +<p>"Let me look at the new dress," he demanded. "Where'd you get so much?"</p> + +<p>He caught her by an arm, as she attempted to brush past him. Greatly to +his surprise, however, he felt his hand cast off and, at the same time, +he was nearly upset by a vigorous push. The youth who had done this, +apparently not the least excited, stood facing him as he recovered +himself.</p> + +<p>"Let the girl alone," said Henry Burns. "Let her go past."</p> + +<p>One could hardly have noted a trace of anger in his voice, but there +was a warning in his eye that Benny Ellison might have heeded. The +latter, however, was no longer in a mood to stop at any warning. His +flabby face reddened and his fist clenched.</p> + +<p>"You'll not stop me!" he cried, taking a step toward the girl. "I'll +push both of you in there, if you don't get out."</p> + +<p>"Just try it," said Henry Burns, quietly.</p> + +<p>Benny Ellison, larger and heavier than the youth who thus dared him, +hesitated only a moment. Then he rushed at Henry Burns and they +clinched. The struggle seemed over before it had hardly begun, however, +for the next moment Benny Ellison found himself lying on his back in the +road, with Henry Burns firmly holding him there.</p> + +<p>"Let me up!" he cried, squirming and kicking. "You don't dare let me +up."</p> + +<p>By way of answer, Henry Burns relinquished his hold and allowed his +antagonist to regain his feet. Again Benny Ellison, wild with anger, +made a rush for Henry Burns, aiming a blow at him as he came on. Dodging +it, and without deigning to attempt to return it, Henry Burns closed +with him once more, and they reeled together to and fro for a moment.</p> + +<p>If Benny Ellison had but known it, he had met with one whom Tom Harris +and Bob White, who prided themselves on their athletics, and even +stalwart Jack Harvey, had often found to be their match in wrestling. +Slight in build, but with well-knit muscles, Henry Burns was +surprisingly strong. And, above all, he never lost his head.</p> + +<p>The contest this time was a moment more prolonged; but again Benny +Ellison felt his feet going from under him, and again he went down—but +this time harder—to the ground. He lay for a moment, with the breath +knocked out of him.</p> + +<p>"Want another?" inquired Henry Burns, calmly. He had not even offered to +strike a blow.</p> + +<p>Benny Ellison, picking himself up slowly from the dust, hesitated a +moment; then backed away.</p> + +<p>"I'll have it out with you again some time," he muttered. "I'll get +square with you for this."</p> + +<p>Henry Burns's eyes twinkled.</p> + +<p>"Why not now?" he asked.</p> + +<p>Benny Ellison made no reply, but went on up the road.</p> + +<p>Bess Thornton's face, radiant with delight as Henry Burns turned to her, +suddenly clouded.</p> + +<p>"Guess I'll have to look out now," she said. "He'll give it to me, if he +catches me."</p> + +<p>Henry Burns's face wore an expression of mingled perplexity and +embarrassment. Then, as one resolved to see the thing through, he +replied, "Come on, I'll get you home all right."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XI" id="CHAPTER_XI"></a>CHAPTER XI</h2> + +<h3>COL. WITHAM GETS THE MILL</h3> + + +<p>It was the evening before the glorious Fourth of July, and Tim Reardon +was dragging an iron cannon along the street, by a small rope. It was a +curious, clumsy piece of iron-mongery, about a foot and a half long, +with a heavily moulded barrel mounted on a block of wood that ran on +four wheels; a product of the local machine shop, designed for the +purpose of being indestructible rather than for show.</p> + +<p>Tim Reardon, smudgy-faced, but wearing an expression of deep +satisfaction, paused for a moment before a gate where stood a boy +somewhat younger than himself, who eyed the cannon admiringly.</p> + +<p>"Hello, Willie," said Tim. "Comin' out, ain't yer?"</p> + +<p>The boy shook his head, disconsolately.</p> + +<p>"What's the matter?"</p> + +<p>"Can't," said the boy. "Father won't let me."</p> + +<p>Tim looked at him pityingly.</p> + +<p>"Won't let you come out the night before the Fourth!" he exclaimed. +"Gee! I'd like to see anybody stop me. What's he 'fraid of?"</p> + +<p>"He isn't afraid," replied the boy. "He's mad because they make so much +noise he can't sleep. He says they haven't any right to fire off guns +and things on the Fourth."</p> + +<p>"Hm!" sniffed Tim. "Henry Burns says you have, and I guess he knows. +He's read all about it. He says there was a man named Adams who was a +president once, and he said everybody ought to make all the noise they +could; get out and fire guns, and blow horns, and beat on pans and yell +like everything, and build bonfires and fire off firecrackers."</p> + +<p>"Did he?" said the boy. "And did he say anything about getting out the +night before?"</p> + +<p>"Well, I dunno about that," answered Tim Reardon; "but of course the +patrioticker you are, why, the sooner you begin. It's the Fourth of July +the minute the clock strikes twelve—and, cracky, won't we make a racket +then? Henry Burns, he's got a cannon; and so's Jack Harvey and Tom +Harris and Bob White, and the Warren fellers they've got three, and a +lot of other fellers have got 'em. Just you wait till the clock strikes, +and there'll be some fun."</p> + +<p>"I wish I could come out," said the boy, earnestly.</p> + +<p>"Too bad you can't. You miss all the fun," said Little Tim. "I'll bet +George Washington was out the first of any of 'em on the Fourth of July, +when he was a boy."</p> + +<p>Tim's knowledge of history was not quite so ample as his patriotic +ardour.</p> + +<p>"Why don't you come, anyway?" he ventured. "Just tie a string around +your big toe, and hang the string out the window, and I'll come around +and wake you up. I'm going to wake George Baker that way. I don't go to +bed at all the night before the Fourth."</p> + +<p>The boy shook his head.</p> + +<p>"No, I guess not," he replied. "But say," he added quickly, "come around +in front of the house and make all the racket you can, will you? I'd +like to hear it, if I can't get out."</p> + +<p>"You bet we will," responded Tim, heartily. "Sammy Willis, his father +won't let him come out, and we're going 'round there; and Joe Turner, +his father won't let him come out, and we're going there, too. There's +where we go to, most."</p> + +<p>Tim did not explain whether this was from patriotic motives or +otherwise. But the small boy looked pleased.</p> + +<p>"Be sure and come around," he said.</p> + +<p>"Oh, you'll hear from us, all right," replied Tim.</p> + +<p>It was quite evident that something would be heard when, some hours +later, about a quarter of an hour before midnight, a group of boys had +gathered in the square in front of Willie Perkins's house. There was an +array of small cannon ranged about that would have sent joy to the heart +of a youthful Knox or Steuben. The boys were engaged in the act of +loading these with blasting powder, purchased at a reduced price from +the rock blasters in the valley below.</p> + +<p>"Here you, don't put in so much powder, young fellow," cautioned Harvey +to a smaller youth, who was about to pour a handful into a chunky +firearm. "Don't you know that it's little powder and lots of wadding +that makes her speak? I'll show you."</p> + +<p>Harvey measured out a small handful of the coarse, black grains, poured +them down the barrel, stuffed in some newspaper and rammed it home with +a hickory stick. Then he stuffed in a handful of grass and some more +newspaper, hammering on the ram-rod with a brick, regardless of any +danger of premature explosion. The coarse powder was not "lively," +however, and had always stood such handling. The process was continued +until the cannon was stuffed to the muzzle. Then a few grains were +dropped over the touch-hole, a long strip of paper laid over this, +weighted down with a small pebble, and was ready for lighting.</p> + +<p>"There," said Harvey, relinquishing the ram-rod to the youth, "that'll +speak. If you fill 'em full of powder they don't make half the noise."</p> + +<p>Simultaneously, Henry Burns, the Warren boys, Tom Harris, Bob White and +a dozen other lads had been loading and priming their respective pieces; +and presently they stood awaiting the striking of the town clocks.</p> + +<p>Willie Perkins's father, who had been hard at work all the evening with +a congenial party in his office, at a game of euchre, was just getting +his first nap, having congratulated himself on retiring, that, if the +neighbourhood's rest was disturbed, his son at least would not +contribute toward it. Willie Perkins, having extended a cordial +invitation to the boys to come around and visit his esteemed parent, +was himself fast asleep.</p> + +<p>Clang! The first town clock to take cognizance of the arrival of the +glorious Fourth struck a lusty note, that rang out loudly on the clear +night air. But there was no response from the eager gunners. It was not +yet Fourth of July. It would have gone hard with the boy that had fired.</p> + +<p>Clang and clang again. The twelfth call was still ringing in the iron +throat of the old bell, high in its steeple, when Harvey shouted, "Now +give it to her!"</p> + +<p>There was a hasty scratching of matches. The strips of paper began to +burn; slowly at first, while the boys scattered; then quickly, +sputtering as the flame caught the first few grains of powder.</p> + +<p>A moment later, it seemed to Willie Perkins's father as though he had +been lifted completely out of his bed by some violent concussion, while +a roar like the blast of battle shook the house. The glorious Fourth had +begun in Benton.</p> + +<p>Springing to his feet, Mr. Perkins uttered a denunciation of the day +that would have made the signers of the Declaration of Independence turn +in their graves, while he rushed to the window. Throwing it open, he +peered out into the square. There was not a boy in sight. Retreat had +already begun, ignominiously, from the field.</p> + +<p>"If they come around again—" muttered Mr. Perkins. He did not finish +the sentence, but went along a hallway and looked into his son's room. +"Are you there, William?" he inquired sternly.</p> + +<p>"Yes; can I get up now? Must be most morning."</p> + +<p>"Get up!" replied the elder Perkins. "Just let me catch you getting up +before daylight! If I had my way, there wouldn't be any firing guns or +firecrackers on Fourth of July. It's barbarism—not patriotism.</p> + +<p>"Willie," he added, "do you know any of those boys out there to-night?"</p> + +<p>"How can I tell, if you won't let me go out?" whined Willie.</p> + +<p>"I'd like to know who put it into people's heads to fire off guns on the +Fourth," exclaimed Mr. Perkins. "He must have been a rowdy."</p> + +<p>Willie Perkins made a mental note that he would look up President Adams +next morning, for his father's benefit.</p> + +<p>Mr. Perkins returned to his bed-room and closed his eyes once more. His +was not a sweet and peaceful sleep, however. Benton was awakening to the +Fourth in divers localities, and sounds from afar, of fish-horns and +giant crackers, of bells and barking dogs, came in, in tumultuous +confusion.</p> + +<p>"Confound the Fourth of July!" muttered Mr. Perkins. "I didn't disturb +people this way when I was a boy."</p> + +<p>But perhaps Mr. Perkins forgot.</p> + +<p>There came by, shortly, a party of intensely patriotic youth from the +mill settlement under the hill. Their particular brand of patriotism +manifested itself in beating with small bars of iron on a large +circular saw, suspended on a stick thrust through the hole in its centre +and borne triumphantly between two youths. The reverberation, the +deafening clangour of this, cannot possibly be described, or appreciated +by one that has never heard it. Suffice it to say, that the fish-horns, +even the cannon, were insignificant by comparison.</p> + +<p>Mr. Perkins groaned and half arose. But the party went along past, +without offering to stop—perhaps because they had received no +invitation from Willie. Moreover, it seemed as though half the town was +astir by this time and giving vent to its enthusiasm. Benton had a +remarkable way of getting boyish on the morning of the Fourth, which the +elder Perkins could not understand.</p> + +<p>When, however, an hour later, another shock of cannon shook his chamber, +followed immediately by what sounded to him like a derisive blast of +fish-horns, there was no more irresolution left in him. Hastily arising +and throwing a coat over his shoulders, and dashing a hat over his +eyes—the first one that came to hand, and which happened to be a tall +beaver—Mr. Perkins, barefoot and in his night-clothes, a not imposing +guardian of the peace, sped down the front stairs and out into the +street.</p> + +<p>A cry of alarm, the rumble of cannon dragged by ropes over the shoulders +of a squad of youths in full flight, and the exclamations of the +indignant Mr. Perkins, marked the occasion.</p> + +<p>Fear lent its wings to the pursued; wrath served to lighten the bare +heels of Mr. Perkins. He was gaining, when one of the youth, cumbered +in flight by his artillery piece, let go the string. The cannon +remaining in the path of Mr. Perkins, he stumbled over it, and it hurt +his toe. He paused and picked up the cannon, but relinquished it to +grasp his toe, which demanded all his attention. He decided, then and +there, that the pursuit, which had extended about three blocks, was +useless, and abandoned it. Limping slightly, he started homeward.</p> + +<p>Somewhat like the British retreat from Concord and Lexington, was the +return of Mr. Perkins to his home. A piece of burning punk lay in the +road, and presently he stepped on that. The fleeing forces had doubled +on their tracks, also, and a fire-cracker exploded near him. Then a +torpedo. And there was no enemy in sight to take revenge on. Mr. Perkins +hastened his steps and was soon, himself, in full retreat.</p> + +<p>Then, when presently he was conscious of the raising of curtains in +near-by windows, and felt the eyes of several of his neighbours directed +toward his weird costume, Mr. Perkins no longed walked. He ran. As he +closed the door behind him and tramped wearily up the stairs, the voice +of his son greeted him.</p> + +<p>"Say, pa, is it time to get up now?"</p> + +<p>Mr. Perkins's reply was most decidedly unpatriotic.</p> + +<p>The hours went by, and a rapid fire of small artillery ran throughout +Benton and along its whole frontier line. Even the bells in the +steeples, no longer solemn, clanged forth their defiance to +authority—which was the only thing that slumbered in the town on this +occasion.</p> + +<p>But Benton had other observances for its boisterous display of spirits, +the origin of which no one seemed to know, but which were participated +in each year by the new generation of youths, with careful observance of +tradition.</p> + +<p>There were the "Horribles," for example, not to have ridden in which at +some time of one's life was to have left one page blank. The procession +of "Horribles," otherwise known as "Ragamuffins," usually started at +about six in the morning, marching through the streets until nine;—by +which time the endurance of a youth who had been out all night usually +came to an end.</p> + +<p>Now, as the hour of three was passed, certain eager and impatient +aspirants for first place in the line began to make their appearance on +horseback in the streets of Benton, clattering about on steeds that had +never before known a saddle; weird figures, masked uncouthly in +pasteboard representations of Indians, animals and what-not, and clad in +every sort of costume, from rags to ancient uniforms—a noisy, +tatterdemalion band, blowing horns and discharging firearms.</p> + +<p>There was Tim Reardon, mounted on an aged truck horse, that drooped its +head and ambled with half-closed eyes, as though it might at any moment +fall off to sleep again. Sticking like a monkey to its bare back was +Tim, his face hidden behind a monstrous mask, his head surmounted by a +battered silk hat, extracted from a convenient refuse heap; a fish-horn +slung about his neck by a string.</p> + +<p>There was Henry Burns, with face blackened and a huge wooden tomahawk at +his belt; he, likewise, astride, on one of Mr. Harris's work horses. A +more mettlesome steed upheld Jack Harvey, but not at all willingly, +since it had an uncertain way of backing without warning into fences and +trees, to the detriment of its rider's shins. The firing of a huge +horse-pistol by Harvey seemed to aggravate rather than soothe the +animal's feelings.</p> + +<p>The Warren brothers had contrived a sort of float, consisting of an +express wagon, gorgeously covered with coloured cloths, even interwoven +in the spokes of the wheels, and wound around the body of the horse that +drew it. A wash-boiler, its legitimate usefulness long over, set up in +the wagon, was beaten on by Arthur and Joe Warren, while their elder +brother drove.</p> + +<p>Tom Harris, Bob White and a scattering of other grotesque horsemen came +along presently.</p> + +<p>"Where'll we go?" queried Harvey, as the squadron paused to rest after a +preliminary round of some of the streets.</p> + +<p>"Past Perkins's house again," suggested young Joe Warren.</p> + +<p>"No, we've been by there twice already," answered Henry Burns. "He won't +like Fourth of July if we give him too much of it."</p> + +<p>Young Joe grinned behind his mask.</p> + +<p>"I'll tell you," he said, excitedly. "We've got time to do it, too, +before the parade begins—Witham's! Bet he's sound asleep—what do you +say?"</p> + +<p>"Come on," cried Henry Burns. "Will you go, fellows?"</p> + +<p>A whoop of delight gave acquiescence. The procession clattered out of +Benton and started up the valley road by the stream.</p> + +<p>They went along noisily at first, beating their battered tinware, +setting off giant firecrackers, blowing horns and whooping lustily. +Farmers along the road opened a sleepy eye as they passed, remembered it +was the morning of the Fourth, and turned over for another nap. Pickerel +in the stream dived their noses into the soft mud at the lowest depths. +Night-hawks, high above, swooped after their prey and added their weird +noise to the din. Yellow-hammers and thrushes, rudely roused, darted +from their nests and took flight silently into the thicker screen of the +woods.</p> + +<p>But, as the riders neared the Ellison dam, and heard the first sound of +the falling water, they subsided, planning to take the neighbourhood, +and particularly the occupants of the Half Way House, above, by +surprise. Thus silently going along, they were aware of a light wagon, +drawn by a lively stepping horse, turning from the road that led up to +the Ellison farm and coming on toward them.</p> + +<p>"Hello!" exclaimed George Warren; "it's Doctor Wells. Something's up. +Wonder what's the matter."</p> + +<p>Doctor Wells, coming up to the leaders, reined in his horse and +regarded the procession with a mingled expression of good humour and +anxiety.</p> + +<p>"Pretty early to start the Fourth, isn't it?" he asked. "What's that you +say? Going to wake up Colonel Witham—and Ellison?"</p> + +<p>His face assumed a serious expression.</p> + +<p>"Wake Jim Ellison," he repeated, as though he was speaking more to +himself than to them. "I wish you could. 'Twould stop lots of trouble, +I'm thinking. No man can wake poor Jim Ellison. He's dead. Went off +quick not a half hour ago. Got a shock, and that was the end of him. +You'll have to turn back, boys."</p> + +<p>Quietly and soberly, the procession turned about and headed for Benton. +The parade that morning was minus a good part of its expected members.</p> + +<p>One week later, Lawyer James Estes of Benton, carrying some transcripts +of legal papers under his arm, walked up the driveway to the Ellison +farm and knocked at the front door. A woman, sad-eyed and anxious, +opened to his knock and ushered him into the front parlour.</p> + +<p>"I'm afraid I've got bad news for you, Mrs. Ellison," he said, in +response to her look of inquiry. "I'm sorry to say it looks as though +your husband's affairs were much involved at the time of his death. I +find those deeds were given to Colonel Witham. They're on record, and I +suppose Witham has the original papers, duly signed. We'll know all +about it as soon as he returns. He went out of town, you say, the day +Mr. Ellison died?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," she replied; "never came near us, nor sent us word of sympathy. +I'm afraid he didn't want to see us. I never wanted James to have +business dealings with him. Does the mill go, too?"</p> + +<p>"I'm afraid it does," answered Lawyer Estes. "Why, didn't you know about +it? Your name is signed, too, you know, else the deeds are not good."</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes, I suppose I did sign them, if they're on record," said Mrs. +Ellison. "I was always signing papers for James. He said everything +would be all right. I didn't know anything about the business—dear, +dear—I thought the boys would have the mill when James was too old to +work it. It's good property, if it does look shabby."</p> + +<p>"Well, we'll make the best of it and do all we can," said Lawyer Estes. +"Perhaps Witham can straighten it out when he returns. If he can't, +there seems to be no doubt that the mill and some of the farm belong to +him. We've hunted everywhere about your home and about the mill, and +there are no papers that save us. We must wait for Colonel Witham."</p> + +<p>It was a little more than two weeks before Colonel Witham did return to +his hotel. Had he gotten out of the way, thus hurriedly, to see what +turn James Ellison's affairs might take? Had he hopes that the deeds he +knew of might by some chance not be found? Was his absence carefully +timed, to allow of whatever search was bound to be made to be done and +gotten over with, ere he should presume to lay claim to the property? +It would not do to declare himself owner, should the chance arise, and +then have the deeds that he had given back secretly to Ellison turn up. +It were safer surely to remain away and see what would happen.</p> + +<p>At all events, when on a certain day the droning of the mill told that +its wheels had resumed their interrupted grinding, there might have been +seen, within, the burly form of Colonel Witham, moving about as one with +authority. Short, curt were his answers. There was little to be made out +of him by Lawyer Estes or anyone else. What was his business was +his—and nobody else's. There were the deeds, duly signed. If anyone had +a better claim to the property, let him show it. As for the Ellison +boys—and all other boys—they could keep away, unless they had corn to +be ground. The mill was no place for them.</p> + +<p>And yet, as the days went by, one might have fancied, if he had +observed, that all was not easy in the mind of the new owner of the +mill. They might have noted in his manner a continual restlessness; a +wandering about the mill from room to room; prying into odd corners here +and there; pounding upon the beams and partitions; poking under +stair-ways; rummaging into long unused chutes and bins; for ever +hunting, anxious-eyed; as though the mill had an evil and troublous +influence over his spirits.</p> + +<p>And now and then, pausing in the midst of his searching, the new owner +might have been heard to exclaim, "Well, if I can't find them, nobody +else can. That's sure."</p> + +<p>But Colonel Witham did not discontinue his searching. And the mill gave +up no secrets.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XII" id="CHAPTER_XII"></a>CHAPTER XII</h2> + +<h3>THE GOLDEN COIN</h3> + + +<p>Mill stream, coming down from afar up the country, on its way to Samoset +river and bay, flowed in many moods. Now it glided deep and smooth, +almost imperceptibly, along steep banks that went up wooded to the sky +line. Again it hurled itself recklessly down rocky inclines, frothing +and foaming and fighting its way by sheer force through barriers of +reefs. Now it went swiftly and pleasantly over sand shallows, rippling +and seeming almost to sing a tune as it ran; again it turned back on its +course in little eddies, backing its waters into shaded, still pools, +where the pickerel loved to hide.</p> + +<p>They were lazy fellows, the pickerel. One might, if he were a lucky and +persevering fisherman, take a trout in the swift waters of the brook; +but for the pickerel, theirs was not the joy of such exertion. In the +dark, silent places along Mill stream, where never a ripple disturbed +their seclusion, you might see one, now and then, lying motionless in +the shadow of an overhanging branch, at the surface of the water, as +though asleep.</p> + +<p>They were not eager to bite then, in the warmth of the day. You might +troll by the edges of the lily pads for half an hour, and the pickerel +that made his haunt there would scarce wink a sleepy eye, or flicker a +fin. At morn and evening they were ready for you; and a quick, sudden +whirl in the glassy, black water often gave invitation then to cast a +line.</p> + +<p>In the early hours of a July morning, a little way up from Ellison's +dam, a youth stood up to his middle among the lily pads, wielding a +long, jointed bamboo pole, and trolling a spoon-hook past the outer +fringe of the flat, green leaves. He was whistling, softly—an +indication that he was happy. He was sunburned, freckle-faced, hatless, +coatless. He wore only a thin and faded cotton blouse, the sleeves of it +rolled up, and a pair of trousers, rolled up above his knees—for +convenience rather than to protect them, for he had waded in, waist +deep.</p> + +<p>Tied about him was a piece of tarred rope, from which there dangled the +luckless victims of his skill, three pickerel. That they were freshly +caught was evidenced by their flopping vigorously now and then, as the +boy entered the deeper water, and opening their big, savage looking +mouths as though they would like to swallow their captor.</p> + +<p>A splash out yonder, just beside the clump of arrow-shaped pickerel +weed! Tim Reardon's heart beat joyfully, as he turned and saw the +ripples receding from the spot where the fish had jumped. He swung his +long rod, dropped the troll skilfully near the blue blossoms that +adorned the clump of weed, and drew it temptingly past. The spoon +revolved rapidly, gleaming with alternate red and silver, the bright +feathers that clothed the gang of hooks at the end trailing after.</p> + +<p>Another splash, and a harder one. Tim Reardon "struck" and the fish was +fast. Now it lashed the water furiously, fighting for its life. But it +was not a big fish, and Tim Reardon lifted it clear of the water so that +it swung in where he could clutch it with eager hands. Grasping it just +back of the gills, he disengaged the hook cautiously, avoiding the sharp +rows of teeth that lined the long jaws. He slung the pickerel on the +line, and whistled gleefully.</p> + +<p>It was a royal day for fishing; with just a thin shading of clouds to +shield the water from the glare of sun; the water still and smooth; the +shadows very black in the shady places.</p> + +<p>It is safe to say, no one in all Benton knew the old stream like Tim +Reardon. He fished it day after day from morn till evening, before and +after school hours, and now in the vacation at all times. Tom Harris and +Bob White knew it as canoeists; but Tim Reardon, following the ins and +outs of its shores for miles above the Ellison dam, knew every little +turn and twist in its shore.</p> + +<p>He knew the places where the pickerel hid; where the water was swift, or +shallow, or choked with weeds, and where to leave the shore and make a +detour through the grain fields past these places. There were deep pools +where the pickerel seldom rose to the troll, but asked to have their +dinner sent down to them in the form of a fresh shiner; and Tim Reardon +knew these pools, and when to remove the troll and put on his sinker and +live bait.</p> + +<p>He could have told you every inch of the country between Ellison's dam +and the falls four miles above; where you would find buckwheat fields; +where the corn patches were; where apple orchards bordered them; where +the groves of beech-trees were, with the red squirrel colonies in the +stumps near-by; and where the best place was to pause for noon luncheon, +in the shade of some pines, where there was a spring bubbling up cool on +the hottest days, in which you could set a bottle of coffee and have it +icy cold in a half-hour.</p> + +<p>There were big hemlocks along the way, in the rotted parts of which the +yellow-hammers built their nests and laid their white eggs; hard trees +to climb, with their huge trunks. He knew the time to scale the tall +pines where the crows built, to find the scrawny young birds, with +wide-open mouths and skinny bodies, that looked like birds visited by +famine. He knew where the red columbines blossomed on the face of some +tall cliffs, where the stream flowed through a rocky gorge; and how to +crawl painfully down a zigzag course from the top to gather these, at +the risk of falling seventy feet to the rocks below.</p> + +<p>There were a thousand and one delights of the old stream that were a joy +to his heart—though one would not have expected to find sentiment +lodged in the breast of Little Tim. As for the boy, he only knew that +it was all very dear to him, and that the whole valley of the stream was +a source of perpetual happiness.</p> + +<p>He waded ashore now and went on, his pole over his shoulder, whistling, +filled with an enjoyment that he could not for the world have described; +but which was born amid the singing of the stream, the droning of bees, +the noises of birds and insects, in a lazy murmur that filled all the +quiet valley.</p> + +<p>It was rare fun following the winding of that stream; among little +hills, by the edges of meadows and through groves of mingled cedars and +birches. Now and then he would rest and watch its noiseless flowing, +past some spot where the branches hung close over the water; where the +stream flowed so smoothly and quietly that the shadows asleep on its +surface were never disturbed.</p> + +<p>The noon hour came, and Little Tim seated himself for his luncheon on a +knoll carpeted with thick, tufted grass. A kingfisher, disturbed by his +arrival, went rattling on his way upstream. And as the boy drew from his +dingy blouse a scrap of brown paper, enclosing a bit of bread and +cheese, and laid it down beside him, the stream seemed to be dancing +just before him at the tune he whistled; a swinging, whirling dance from +shore to shore; a butterfly dance, through a setting of buttercups and +daisies; with here and there a shaft of sunlight thrown upon it, where +the thin clouds parted.</p> + +<p>Afternoon came, and the shadows of the low hills were thrown far across +the stream. Here and there a splash denoted that the fish were waking +from their midday torpor and were ready for prey. Little Tim resumed his +rod, and slowly retraced his steps along the shore in the direction of +Ellison dam and Benton.</p> + +<p>It was about four o'clock as he neared a point in the stream a half-mile +above the dam, where the water flowed very quietly past the edge of some +thick alders. There were pickerel in that water. Tim knew the place of +old; and he drew near softly, to make a cast. The bright troll fell with +a tinkle on the still surface, and he drew it temptingly past the +thicket.</p> + +<p>A quick whirl—and how the line did tauten and the rod bend! The whole +tip of it went under water. He had struck a big fish. He brought him to +the surface with some effort; but the fish was not to be easily subdued. +A sudden dart and he was away again, diving deep and straining the rod +to its utmost.</p> + +<p>Seeing he had a fish of unusual size, the boy played him carefully; let +him have the line and tire himself for a moment, then reeled in as the +line slackened.</p> + +<p>"He's a four pounder; giminy, how he fights!" exclaimed Little Tim. And +he gave a sudden yell of triumph as he saw that the fish was firmly +hooked, with the troll far down its distended jaws.</p> + +<p>Then his impatience got the better of him, and he gave a great lift on +the rod, with the line reeled up short. Just at that moment too, it +seemed the fish had tired; for, as Tim strained, the big pickerel came +out of water as with a leap. The stout rod straightened with a jerk that +yanked the fish out, sent it flying through the air and lodged it away +up in the top of some thick alders that bordered the shore. There, the +line tangling, it hung suspended, twisting and doubling in vain effort +to free itself.</p> + +<p>Little Tim laughed joyfully.</p> + +<p>"Got to shin for that fellow," he said, stepping ashore and eying the +prize that dangled above his head.</p> + +<p>But, as he stooped to lay down his pole, the discharge of a shotgun +close at hand made him jump with astonishment. Still more amazed was he +to see the dangling fish fall between the alder branches to the ground. +Then, before he had recovered from his astonishment, a youth dashed +forward and seized it.</p> + +<p>The youth was Benny Ellison.</p> + +<p>Little Tim's blood was up.</p> + +<p>"Think you're smart, don't you," he cried, "shooting my fish. Here, +gimme that. What do you think you're doing?"</p> + +<p>But Benny Ellison, holding the big pickerel away from Tim, showed no +intention of giving it up.</p> + +<p>"Who told you it was your fish?" he replied, sneeringly. "I shot it. +It's mine."</p> + +<p>"Give me back that fish!" repeated Little Tim. "I'll tell Harvey on you. +You'll get another ducking."</p> + +<p>He seized Benny Ellison by an arm, but the other, bigger and stronger, +pushed him back roughly.</p> + +<p>"Go on," he said, and added, while a grin overspread his fat face, +"That's no fish, anyway. Whoever heard of catching fish in trees? That's +a bird, Timmy, and I shot it. See its tail-feathers?"</p> + +<p>He swung the fish and gave Little Tim a slap over the head with the tail +of it, that brought the tears to Tim's eyes.</p> + +<p>"Go on, tell Harvey," he said. "This bird's mine."</p> + +<p>Dangling the pickerel by the gills, and shouldering his gun, he pushed +on upstream through the alders, leaving Little Tim angry and smarting.</p> + +<p>"I'll get even with you, Benny Ellison," called Tim; but the other only +laughed and went on.</p> + +<p>Tim slowly unjointed his rod, tied the pieces together in a compact +bundle, gathered up his string of remaining fish and started homeward. +When he had gone on about a quarter of a mile, however, he suddenly +paused and stood for a moment, considering something. Then he looked +about him, stepped into a little thicket where he hid his pole and fish +carefully from sight, then retraced his steps upstream.</p> + +<p>He went on through the alders and brush, till presently he heard the +report of the gun. Guided by the sound, he continued on for a little +way, then shinned into the branches of a tall cedar, heavily wooded, and +from there got a view upstream. Several rods away, he could see the +alders move, thrust aside by Benny Ellison. Little Tim seated himself +amid the branches, safely hidden, and waited.</p> + +<p>Some ten or fifteen minutes passed, and then the snapping of underbrush +told of the approach of Benny Ellison, on his return. That his shot had +told was evidenced by another pickerel which he carried, hung by the +gills on the crotch of an alder branch, together with the big fellow +that Little Tim had caught. Tim's eyes snapped as he saw the fish.</p> + +<p>Benny Ellison, chuckling to himself, passed the tree where Tim crouched, +high above him. Almost within the shadow of it, he stopped and laughed +heartily, as he glanced down at the big pickerel.</p> + +<p>"It's a bird," he cried. "Shot it in a tree—what luck!"</p> + +<p>Not until he had gone some distance did Little Tim emerge from hiding, +scramble to the ground and follow. Dodging from tree to tree, and +pausing frequently, he saw Benny Ellison finally seat himself on a log +beside the stream. Tim waited. Then a smile of satisfaction crossed his +freckled face as Benny Ellison began stripping off his clothes for a +swim.</p> + +<p>Little Tim, crouching low, almost crawling, crept closer.</p> + +<p>Benny Ellison stood on a bank by the edge of a deep pool, a favourite +swimming-place, where he and his cousins, and Little Tim, too, had had +many a swim. The water was inviting, with the sultriness of the +afternoon. Tim's heart beat high as he saw Benny Ellison plunge +headforemost into the pool.</p> + +<p>Then Tim's hopes were realized. Benny Ellison, a good swimmer, struck +out into midstream toward a reef that protruded a few feet above water.</p> + +<p>Crawling on hands and knees, Tim quickly gained the shelter of the log +where the other had thrown his clothes, with the fish dropped just +alongside. Tim made sure of his fish, first. He pulled it hastily from +the stick, leaving the one that Benny Ellison had shot, afterwards, +unmolested for the moment.</p> + +<p>Then he dragged Benny Ellison's cotton shirt down behind the log. +Seizing the sleeves, he proceeded to tie the thin garment into hard +knots. It was the old schoolboy trick. He had had it played on him many +a time in swimming—and done the same by others; but he had never +entered into the prank with half the zest as now. He tugged at the knots +and drew them hard.</p> + +<p>"That shirt's a bird," he said softly, eying the shapeless bundle, with +a grin. Then he served the trousers and the "galluses" the same way; +likewise Benny Ellison's socks. Finally, having it all dona to suit him, +he stood erect upon the log and called out to the swimmer.</p> + +<p>"Say, Benny," he cried, "here's your bird." And, stooping and picking up +Benny Ellison's pickerel, he hurled the dead fish far out into the +stream. The fish struck the water with a splash, as Benny Ellison, +turning in dismay and wrath, started back with vigorous strokes.</p> + +<p>"There's another bird on the log for you, Benny," called Tim. Then, +picking up his own fish, he scampered. Benny Ellison's slower steps +could not have equalled the pace set by those bare feet, had he been +ashore. By the time he was on land again, Little Tim, his pole and +string of fish regained, was half-way to the Ellison dam.</p> + +<p>A voice stopped him as he was emerging on to the main road, just below +Witham's Half Way House. He turned and saw Bess Thornton.</p> + +<p>"Hello, Tim," she called, "what's the matter? Anybody after you? My, but +I guess you've been running fast."</p> + +<p>Tim Reardon, wiping his face with his sleeves, told her what had +happened. The girl danced with glee, while her bright eyes sparkled.</p> + +<p>"Oh, goody!" she exclaimed. "Wouldn't I just like to have seen that fat +old Benny Ellison try to catch you. My, but you always have the luck, +don't you? That's a grand string of fish."</p> + +<p>Tim Reardon, unstringing two of the pickerel from the rope, transferred +them to a twig of alder that he cut from a near by bush, and handed them +to her.</p> + +<p>"I've got more'n I want," he said.</p> + +<p>"Thanks," said the girl, and added, "Say, Tim, I'll tell you something. +I saw four trout in the brook this morning, and one of them was that +long."</p> + +<p>She measured with her hands, held a little more than a foot apart.</p> + +<p>"Where was it—about a mile above your house?" queried Tim.</p> + +<p>The girl nodded.</p> + +<p>"In the pool where the big tree's fallen across," she said.</p> + +<p>"I guess he's the big one I've tried to get, a lot of times," said Tim. +"But I haven't seen him lately. I thought he'd gone down into Ellison's +pool. I'd like to see him."</p> + +<p>He was a fisherman by nature, was Little Tim, and the very mention of +the big trout made his eyes twinkle.</p> + +<p>"Come on up," said Bess Thornton.</p> + +<p>Tim hesitated. "It's most too late," he replied. "I'll be late to supper +now, if I don't run."</p> + +<p>"Oh, never mind," she urged. "I'll show you just where I saw him. I just +as lieve you'd catch him."</p> + +<p>The invitation was too much for Tim, and he started off across the +fields with Bess Thornton.</p> + +<p>"That fish'll never bite," he said, as they went along; "I've tried him +with worms and grasshoppers and wasps and crickets, and that fly made of +feathers that Jack gave me. He knows a whole lot, that old trout. Guess +he's a school-teacher, he knows so much."</p> + +<p>"I'm going to catch him, anyway, if you don't," said the girl. "I know +what I'm going to do."</p> + +<p>"What's that?" asked Tim, in a tone that indicated he had no great faith +in her success.</p> + +<p>"I'm going to bait up two hooks with a whole lot of worms, and I'm not +going to put 'em into the pool till after it gets dark," replied Bess +Thornton. "And I'm going to let 'em stay there all night. He's such a +sly old thing you can't get near the bank without he knows it. Then when +it gets morning, and he's hungry, perhaps he'll see all those worms and +just go and catch himself."</p> + +<p>"Yes, and get away again long before you get back," said Tim Reardon. +"He'll just take and tangle that line all up around the rocks and sticks +at the bottom, and break it."</p> + +<p>"I'm going to try, anyway," she insisted. They turned in at the path +leading to the girl's home presently, and she went in with the pickerel.</p> + +<p>"I'll dig some bait for you while you're gone," called Tim.</p> + +<p>"I can do it," she said.</p> + +<p>"Oh, you're all dressed up," said Tim, who had noted her unusual +appearance, clad as she was in her new bright sailor-suit.</p> + +<p>"Going to change it," she said, "Had to put it on to go to Benton in."</p> + +<p>She went into the house, and Tim Reardon, seizing a spade that he found +leaning against the shed, made his way to a corner of the house, where +an old water-spout came down, from the gutter that caught the rain on +the roof. He was turning up the soil there when the girl reappeared.</p> + +<p>"Oh, that isn't the place to dig," she said. "I never dig for worms +there."</p> + +<p>"Well, here's the place to find 'em," asserted Tim. "I'm getting some. +You always find angleworms where the ground's moist. They like it, +because the rain comes down off the roof here. There you are, grab that +fat fellow."</p> + +<p>The girl made a grab at a bit of the soft earth, where a worm was +wriggling back into its hole.</p> + +<p>"Ugh! he got away," she said, opening her hand and letting the dirt drop +through her fingers. The next moment she uttered a little cry of +surprise.</p> + +<p>"I've got something, though," she exclaimed. "Look, Tim, it's +money—it's a coin. Where do you suppose it came from? Perhaps it's good +yet. If I can spend it, I'll go halves."</p> + +<p>The boy took the piece of money from her fingers. It was dull and +tarnished; a little larger in size than a ten cent piece, but it was not +silver.</p> + +<p>Tim Reardon looked at it intently and rubbed its sides on his trousers +leg.</p> + +<p>"Say, Bess," he said earnestly, "do you know what I think—I guess it's +gold. Yes, I do. 'Tisn't American money, though. It's got a queer head +on it, see, a man with some sort of a thing on his head like a wreath. +Oh, my, but that's too bad. Look, Bess, there's a hole been bored in it. +P'raps you can't spend it."</p> + +<p>Near the edge, there was, in truth, a tiny depression, nearly obscured +by dirt and corrosion, which seemed to indicate that the coin had at +some time been pierced, as though it might have been worn by someone as +an ornament.</p> + +<p>"Let's scrub it," said the girl. "Perhaps it'll brighten up, so we can +see it better."</p> + +<p>They went in with it to the kitchen sink, where Bess Thornton, getting +a basin of warm water and soap, proceeded to polish the coin with a +small brush. It soon brightened sufficiently to reveal the unmistakable +gleam of gold, and was a foreign coin of some sort, possibly of Austrian +coinage; but the letters which it had borne, and the figures, had been +worn much away; and one side was worn quite smooth, so as to give no +clew to what had been stamped there.</p> + +<p>"Well, I can wear it, if I can't spend it," said Bess Thornton. "There's +the hole to hang it by. Isn't it pretty?"</p> + +<p>"Isn't what pretty?" said a voice, suddenly interrupting them. Old +Granny Thornton was peering over the girl's shoulder. "What are you two +doing? What have you got there?"</p> + +<p>"See, gran'," replied the girl. "Look what we found. It's money, gran', +and it's gold."</p> + +<p>The old woman took the coin in her thin fingers and held it up close to +her eyes. Then she started and her hand shook tremulously. A pallor +overspread her face. She sank back into a chair, staring at the coin, +which she clutched tight as though it had some strange fascination that +held her gaze.</p> + +<p>"Where did you get that?" she cried hoarsely. "Where was it?"</p> + +<p>"We dug it up just now, gran', out in the yard. Why, what's the matter? +Can't I keep it? What makes you act so queer, gran'?"</p> + +<p>The old woman hesitated for a moment and seemed lost for a reply. Then +she said, hurriedly:</p> + +<p>"No, girl—no, not now. You shall have it some day. You can't have it +yet. It isn't time. You wore it once when you were little—but it was +lost. Oh, how I've hunted for it! You'll get it again. I'll keep it +safe, this time."</p> + +<p>She was strangely agitated and spoke in broken tones. Then, to their +surprise, she arose and hurried from the room, waving the girl back and +bidding her go and play. They heard her go stumbling up the stairs to +the floor above.</p> + +<p>"Mean old thing!" exclaimed Bess. "Well, I don't care. Let her keep it. +I'll find where she hides it, see if I don't. Come on, let's go out +doors."</p> + +<p>Granny Thornton, peering out an attic window at the boy and girl, going +up along the brook, turned and felt along a dusty beam until her fingers +rested on a key. With this she unlocked a drawer of an old bureau, that +stood in a dark, out-of-the-way corner. There were some odds and ends of +clothing there, and some boxes and papers. From out the stuff, she drew, +with trembling fingers, a small gold chain, such as children wear. +Fumbling over this, she unclasped a tiny clasp and affixed the golden +coin. Then, holding it up to her eyes, she gazed at it long and +earnestly; replaced it in the drawer, locked this, hid the key again and +stole down the stairs.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIII" id="CHAPTER_XIII"></a>CHAPTER XIII</h2> + +<h3>A SAILING ADVENTURE</h3> + + +<p>John Ellison, a youth of about fifteen, but of a sturdy build and manner +that might lead one to suppose him older, stood by the gateway of the +Ellison farm, looking down across the fields towards the mill. It was +busy grinding and, as its monotonous tones came up to him, the boy shook +his head sadly. An expression as of anger overspread his manly young +face, and his cheeks flushed.</p> + +<p>"It's wrong," he exclaimed, speaking his thoughts aloud; "I'll bet +there's some trick about it. Father always said we should run the mill +some day. It makes me mad to see old Witham sneaking about, afraid to +look any of us in the face; but I suppose there's no help for it."</p> + +<p>He went up the driveway to the house, got an axe from the woodshed and +began splitting some pieces of sawed oak and hickory from a great pile +in the yard. It was a relief to his pent-up feelings, and he drove the +axe home with powerful blows. He was a strong, handsome youth, with face +and arms healthily bronzed with work in the open air. He laid a big junk +of the oak across the chopping-block, swung the axe, and cleft the +stick with a single blow that sent the halves flying in either +direction.</p> + +<p>"That was a good stroke—a corker," exclaimed a youth who had entered +the yard and come up quietly behind him. John Ellison turned quickly.</p> + +<p>"Hello, Henry," he said. "Where'd you come from?"</p> + +<p>"Just had a swim," replied Henry Burns. "I see where you get all that +muscle, now. That's good as canoeing, I guess."</p> + +<p>"Well," responded John Ellison, looking rather serious, "I reckon I'll +do more of it from now on than canoeing; though I've done my share of +work all along. I'm running the farm now—that is, what we've got left. +Witham's got a good part of it. I suppose you know, don't you?"</p> + +<p>Henry Burns nodded. "It's a shame," he said. "But perhaps it'll come out +right in the end."</p> + +<p>"I don't see how," said John Ellison. "Witham's got the mill, and the +big wood lot where we used to cut most of the wood we sold every fall, +and the great meadow up opposite old Granny Thornton's, with the +hayfield in it. We've got enough left close by here to keep us from +starving, all right; but it isn't what it ought to be. We've had to sell +half the cows, because we can't feed them."</p> + +<p>Henry Burns whistled. "It's tough," he said, and added, doubtfully, "How +about that week up at the pond? Can you go?"</p> + +<p>John Ellison looked downcast. "I'd forgotten all about that," he said. +"We did plan for a week at Old Whitecap, didn't we? I'm afraid it's all +up for me, though. There's haying to be done, a lot of wood to be cut, +and chores. I guess you'll have to count me out. I might let Jim go for +a couple of days, though," he added, speaking as though he were a dozen +years older than his brother, instead of only one.</p> + +<p>"No, you're the one that was going," responded Henry Burns; "you could +go if the work were done, couldn't you?"</p> + +<p>"Perhaps," replied John Ellison; "but there's enough there to take us +more than a fortnight. Benny don't count for much; he's too lazy."</p> + +<p>"Well, we'll get the work done, all right," said Henry Burns; "and then +we'll take you with us."</p> + +<p>John Ellison laughed. "You city fellows wouldn't like farm work, much, I +guess," he said.</p> + +<p>He hardly took Henry Burns seriously, especially as the latter spoke but +little more about the project; but, the next day, looking up from his +work, at the sound of wagon wheels, he saw a cart coming up the hill, +laden with baggage and a party of boys. Tom Harris was driving, and +beside him on the seat were Bob White and Henry Burns. In the body of +the cart were Jack Harvey and Tim Reardon. These two were seated amidst +a pile of camp stuff.</p> + +<p>"Well, we're here," said Henry Burns, laughing, as the boys piled out of +the cart. "Hope you've got something for us all to do. You'll find us +green, but we won't shirk."</p> + +<p>John Ellison stared at them in amazement. "You better go on out to the +pond," he said. "I don't want to keep you fellows. Perhaps Jim and I can +get out for a couple of days before you come in. Besides, you want to +look out for Benny," he added, winking at Henry Burns. "He says he's +going to thrash you some day."</p> + +<p>"Oh, I'm all right," laughed Henry Burns. "I've got Jack here to help me +out now. What'll we do, John? Come on, we're losing time."</p> + +<p>"Well, if you really want to," replied John Ellison, somewhat +reluctantly, "two of you can go down in the haying field and help Jim; +and there's this wood's got to be split, and the corn and potatoes to be +hoed." He pointed, as he spoke, to two great fields of the latter. +"We'll set Tim catching potato bugs," he added, smiling.</p> + +<p>"I'll catch 'em," responded Tim, heartily. "I wonder what kind of bait +they'd make for trout."</p> + +<p>They divided up then, Tom and Bob, equipped with pitchforks, starting +off for the haying field; Henry Burns and Tim following John Ellison +into the garden; while Harvey, his waist stripped to a faded sleeveless +jersey, attacked the woodpile with a strength and energy that made up +for his lack of familiarity with the work.</p> + +<p>He was busily engaged when Mrs. Ellison looked out at the kitchen door.</p> + +<p>"Why," she said, in surprise, "I didn't know we had a new hand. Oh, I +see, you're one of the boys' friends."</p> + +<p>Harvey explained.</p> + +<p>"Well, I call that good of you," exclaimed Mrs. Ellison, her pleasant, +motherly face beaming. "Let the boys go after it's done? Why, of course. +They can both go. Benny will help me through the week, all right, won't +you, Benny?"</p> + +<p>The youth thus addressed, who had just put in an appearance, his gun +over his shoulder, assented, though not with much heartiness. He scowled +at Harvey, and made no offer to be friendly.</p> + +<p>"I suppose you want to go on the pond, too," said Mrs. Ellison, +sympathetically.</p> + +<p>Benny Ellison glanced sullenly at Harvey. "Not with those city chaps," +he replied.</p> + +<p>The "city chaps," sneeringly referred to by Benny Ellison, proved +themselves good workmen, however. Unused to farm labour, as they were, +their muscles were, however, far from being soft and easily tired. Tom +and Bob, who excelled at athletics, surprised Jim Ellison with the +amount of hay they could stack up into cocks, or, again, the amount they +could spread and scatter; and they were tireless in following him +through all the broad field. Henry Burns and Little Tim were of the wiry +sort that never seemed to weary; while Harvey made the pile of split +wood grow in a way that made Mrs. Ellison's eyes stick out.</p> + +<p>Then, at noon, when the big farm dinner-bell rang, there was a great +table spread for them in the long dining-room, fairly creaking with an +array of good things to eat; with plenty of rich milk and doughnuts and +home-made gingerbread to finish up with. Little Tim's thin face seemed +to be almost bulging when he had done; and he ate his sixth doughnut in +gallant style.</p> + +<p>He was nearly wild with delight, too, late that afternoon, when he got +permission to fish the famous Ellison trout pool; and he came back in +time for supper with a fine string of the fish, brilliantly spotted +fellows, which Mrs. Ellison fried to a crisp for the crew of boy farmers +when their day's work was over.</p> + +<p>There came a little knock at the door when they were eating supper, and +Bess Thornton, come for a pitcher of milk, looked in at the group of +merry youngsters.</p> + +<p>"My, what fun!" she exclaimed, and speaking half to herself added, "I +wish I lived here too. Gran' said—"</p> + +<p>"What's that? Why, I wish you did live here," exclaimed Mrs. Ellison, +stepping back with the pitcher in her hands at the girl's words, and +looking into her bright, eager face with eyes that suddenly moistened. +"I wish you did," she repeated. "Why don't you ever come in, when you +come for the milk? Come in now and have some supper with the boys?"</p> + +<p>But the girl started back, almost timidly.</p> + +<p>"Oh, I can't," she said, "I didn't think what I was saying. Gran' says +never to stay—to hurry back. She doesn't like to have me come for the +milk, but she can't come, herself."</p> + +<p>And, true to her instructions, she departed promptly, when she had +received the pitcher, well filled—almost double what the money she had +brought would usually buy.</p> + +<p>"She's a queer little sprite," was Mrs. Ellison's comment, as she +watched her go down the path; "but there's something fine and brave +about her. Who wouldn't be queer, living all alone with old Granny +Thornton?"</p> + +<p>The two weeks' farming that John Ellison had reckoned on was through +with in five days, thanks to the energy of the volunteer crew. They +enjoyed it, too; the work in the bright fields; the jolly meals at the +Ellison table; the nights in the big hay-barn, with blankets spread in +the mow; the evening's swim in the stream just before supper.</p> + +<p>And, on the sixth day, John and James Ellison went away on the wagon, +with clear consciences and light hearts, and with Mrs. Ellison waving a +farewell to them from the door of the shed. It was cramped quarters for +them all in the wagon, with the camping equipment, jolting along the +country roads; and they walked most of the hills. But the journey was a +jubilant one, and they welcomed the first gleaming of Whitecap pond with +whoops of delight.</p> + +<p>Whitecap pond seemed to return the welcome, too; for it twinkled all +over in the light of an afternoon sun, as they set up the two tents that +were to house them; and it sent in its light ripples dancing merrily +almost to the very door of the tents; a splash now and then in the still +waters told them of fishing delights to come. The white, fine sand of +its shores was soft as carpet to their feet, as they ran races along +the shore, and took a swim by moonlight before they turned in for the +night's rest.</p> + +<p>They liked the wildness of the loon's weird hullo, coming in at the open +flaps of the tents from afar; and the clumsy fluttering and flapping of +great beetles against the canvas, attracted by the lantern light that +shone through. The cawing of crows just above their heads awoke them +early next morning.</p> + +<p>They were out for perch and bass before the sun was high, and were in +luck, for the fish were plenty; and the perch chowder that Bob, who was +an old and experienced camper, made for the noon meal was a wonderful +achievement, and reminded them of old times in Samoset Bay.</p> + +<p>But there was one drawback—at least, for Henry Burns and Harvey, who +were hankering for the grip of a tiller and the thrill of a boat under +sail. There wasn't a sailboat to be hired on the pond. There were not +many, and they were all engaged. Coombs, who owned the slip and the +boats, said he hadn't done such a business in years. He could only let +them have two rowboats. Yet they came into the use of one, two days +later, through an adventure.</p> + +<p>It was early in the afternoon, and Henry Burns and Harvey and Little Tim +stood on the float at Coombs's landing, looking at a sailboat that lay +at its berth alongside. It was not exactly a handsome craft; with too +great length for its beam, and its lines drawn out so fine astern that +it bade fair to be somewhat cranky. It had no cabin, and there was +seating room for a large party—a design calculated more for profit than +safety.</p> + +<p>The boat was in evident poor condition, lacking paint, and its rigging +frayed, a not uncommon condition with boats to let in small waters of +this sort. Somewhat crude lettering on the stern spelled the name, +<i>Flyaway</i>.</p> + +<p>"Looks as though she might fly away with somebody, all right, if he +didn't look out," remarked Harvey, grinning at his companions. "Wish we +had her, though, for a week. We'd take a chance, eh, Henry?"</p> + +<p>Henry Burns nodded. "Let's see 'em start off in her," he said.</p> + +<p>They waited about, and presently there appeared on the landing the +present claimant of the <i>Flyaway</i>. He was a big, bluff, hearty man, +florid face, loud of voice, a free and easy manner, and he was dressed +for the occasion in yachting clothes of unmistakable newness. He eyed +the <i>Flyaway</i> with an assumption of nautical wisdom and experience.</p> + +<p>"That's a good-looking boat, Captain Coombs," he said, in tones that +could be heard far away. "She's all right; just what I want. I like a +boat with plenty of room for the ladies to be comfortable."</p> + +<p>"Well, I reckon she's the best boat on Whitecap pond," responded the +man, while his small eyes twinkled shrewdly. "Just humour her a bit, and +I reckon she'll go where anything of her size will. She's seen some +rough times on this pond."</p> + +<p>The appearance of the <i>Flyaway</i> seemed to bear out this statement.</p> + +<p>"Sure you can handle her all right, are you, Mr. Bangs?" added Captain +Coombs, eying his customer with a quick, sidelong glance.</p> + +<p>"Well, I reckon," was the bluff reply.</p> + +<p>Captain Coombs, possibly not all assured, gave an inquiring look toward +a man who was busy cleaning a rowboat close by, and who seemed to be an +interested party of some sort, probably a partner. The man drew his +right eye down in an unmistakable wink, and glanced up at the sky. Then +he nodded, shrugging his shoulders at the same time, as though he might +have said, "There's no wind; we'll take a chance."</p> + +<p>There was, indeed, scarcely a breath of wind blowing, and there was no +present prospect of any.</p> + +<p>Mr. Bangs's party began now to arrive: a somewhat fleshy, and withal +nervous and agitated lady, who proved to be Mrs. Bangs; two young girls, +an angular lady carrying a fat pug dog in her arms, and a small boy.</p> + +<p>"Aha, we're all here," cried Mr. Bangs, joyfully. "Let's get aboard and +be off. Splendid day for a sail, eh, Captain Coombs?"</p> + +<p>"Couldn't be better," replied Coombs, dryly. "Are those oars in her, +Dan?"</p> + +<p>"Why, you don't suppose I'm going to row her, do you?" laughed Mr. +Bangs.</p> + +<p>"We sometimes has to, when we doesn't want to," said Coombs +laconically. "No fun staying out all night if the wind dies out."</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes, of course," responded Mr. Bangs. "Get aboard, ladies."</p> + +<p>"I don't believe you know how to sail a boat, Augustus," said Mrs. +Bangs, eying her husband doubtfully. "Are you sure you do?"</p> + +<p>"Nonsense!" snorted Mr. Bangs. "Don't be getting nervous, now. Don't you +know I was elected commodore of the Green Pond Fishing Club only two +weeks ago?"</p> + +<p>Mr. Bangs refrained from communicating the fact that the principal +occupation of the members of the Green Pond Fishing Club was the mixing +of certain refreshing liquids in tall glasses, and sipping them on the +verandah of a clubhouse.</p> + +<p>The party therefore embarked. Mrs. Bangs was not wholly at ease, +however.</p> + +<p>"Supposing there isn't any wind by and by, Augustus, and you have to +row. Why don't you take somebody along, to help? We've got lots to eat."</p> + +<p>This idea, at least, seemed to strike Mr. Bangs favourably. He glanced +to where Henry Burns and his companions stood.</p> + +<p>"Hello," he called, "want to go out for a sail? Got room enough. Take +you along."</p> + +<p>The three boys stepped toward the boat.</p> + +<p>"Not scared of the water, are you?" queried Mr. Bangs.</p> + +<p>"Not unless it gets rough," replied Henry Burns, with a sly wink at +Harvey.</p> + +<p>The three jumped aboard, and Coombs, with something like a grin at his +partner, shoved the boat's head off. He had got the jib and mainsail up, +and they caught what little breeze there was stirring. The <i>Flyaway</i> +drew away from the landing. To Bangs's embarrassment, however, the boom +suddenly swung inboard, swiped across the stern, causing him to duck +hastily, and almost knocking the bonnet off the lady with the pug dog. +Mr. Bangs had jibed the boat, greatly to his surprise. But no harm had +been done, as the wind was light.</p> + +<p>Mr. Bangs laughed loudly. "Meant to tell you that was coming," he said. +"She'll sail better this way. Ever been on the water before, boys?"</p> + +<p>Harvey nodded. "A little," he said.</p> + +<p>"Well, the more you are used to it, the better you'll like it," said Mr. +Bangs. "Don't mind if she tips a little, if we get any wind. She sails +that way. Funny that jib flutters so. Better haul in on that rope there +and—and trim it."</p> + +<p>Henry Burns, soberly following orders, did as requested. But it was +noticeable that the trimming did not seem to accomplish the result +desired by Mr. Bangs. In fact, as the <i>Flyaway</i> was going dead before +the wind, it was quite apparent that no amount of trimming would make +the jib draw.</p> + +<p>"It keeps on fluttering just the same, Augustus," said Mrs. Bangs, eying +the offending sail suspiciously. "Hadn't you better tie it some way?"</p> + +<p>"Of course not," responded Mr. Bangs, loftily. "They will act that way +sometimes. Isn't that so, my lads?"</p> + +<p>"Oh yes," replied Henry Burns. "I've seen 'em do it, haven't you, Jack?"</p> + +<p>But Harvey was looking the other way.</p> + +<p>They went slowly up the pond, with Mr. Bangs holding the tiller and +watching the sail critically. He was in buoyant spirits, and entertained +them with stories of the thrilling adventures of the Green Pond Fishing +Club, in which he seemed to have figured prominently.</p> + +<p>The wind freshened a little and the <i>Flyaway</i> drew ahead somewhat +faster. There was just the suspicion of a ripple along the sides, and it +was pleasant sailing. Two miles up the pond they dropped the sail and +anchored; got out the fish lines and tried for bass. After which, Mr. +Bangs, a generous host, opened up a huge hamper and spread out a +luncheon that made Little Tim's mouth water.</p> + +<p>"Nothing like sailing to give one an appetite," exclaimed Mr. Bangs, +heartily. "Pitch in, boys. There's plenty of grub. I believe in having +enough to eat, I do."</p> + +<p>He was so busily and pleasantly engaged in eating that he paid no heed +to the aspect of the sky. Nor, indeed, was there anything of very +serious import in its changes. But Henry Burns, alert as ever, saw +certain signs of wind in some light banks of cloud that began to gather +in the western sky, in the direction of Coombs's landing.</p> + +<p>"We won't have to row home," he said presently, addressing the skipper +of the <i>Flyaway</i>, who was absorbed in the enjoyment of a huge slice of +meat pie.</p> + +<p>"Eh, what's that?" he inquired. "What do you mean?"</p> + +<p>"We're going to have some wind," replied Henry Burns.</p> + +<p>"Well, that's what we want, for sailing," laughed Mr. Bangs. "You aren't +anxious to row, are you?"</p> + +<p>"Not particularly," replied Henry Burns. "We won't have to, anyway. It's +going to blow some. We'll take some spray in over the bows beating +back—"</p> + +<p>"What's that?" exclaimed Mrs. Bangs. "Augustus, do you hear? Let's start +right away. We don't want to get wet."</p> + +<p>"Ho!" sniffed Mr. Bangs. But just then a quick gust of wind swept over +them, such as comes without warning in pond waters, bordered by hills. +Mr. Bangs seemed to take the hint it conveyed. "Guess we'd better +start," he said.</p> + +<p>The boys sprang to the halyards; the sails were hoisted and the anchor +got aboard. With Mr. Bangs at the tiller, the <i>Flyaway</i> started on the +beat of two miles down the pond. The wind continued to freshen, coming +now and then in flaws, as the light clouds overspread the sky.</p> + +<p>Henry Burns, noting the style of Mr. Bangs's yachtsmanship, and +observing the freshening of the wind, and the fact that the craft was +not being worked to windward anywhere near what it would go, slipped +astern beside Mr. Bangs.</p> + +<p>"Like to have me tend that sheet for you?" he asked, carelessly.</p> + +<p>Mr. Bangs waved him back. "Don't touch that, my lad," he cried. "You +might upset us in a minute. Never let a boy fool with a sheet—hello!"</p> + +<p>A sharper and heavier flaw caught the big mainsail with full force; and +then, as Mr. Bangs in his excitement threw the tiller over and headed +the yacht farther off the wind, instead of up into it, the <i>Flyaway</i> +heeled dangerously, taking water over the side and causing the pug dog, +which got a drenching, to howl dolorously. Mrs. Bangs gave a slight +scream.</p> + +<p>"Oh, it's all right. Don't be alarmed," said Mr. Bangs, assuringly. He +failed to notice that prompt action on the part of Henry Burns, who had +started the sheet at the critical moment, had saved them from a spill; +and seemed to think that somehow he had righted things himself. However, +as he observed that youth calmly trimming the sail again, despite his +admonition to let the sheet alone, he seemed to have undergone a change +of heart.</p> + +<p>"That's right," he said, in a tone of not quite so much confidence, "you +just run that thing, while I do the steering."</p> + +<p>It began to get rough now, and the <i>Flyaway</i> did not seem to justify +it's owner's praise. It threw the water heavily—partly by reason of its +clumsy build and partly because Mr. Bangs did not meet the waves with +the tiller. One might have observed, moreover, that Mr. Bangs wore an +anxious expression, and his hand shook slightly as he pressed the +tiller.</p> + +<p>A moment more, and he seemed almost dazed as the tiller was snatched +from his grasp by Henry Burns, who put the <i>Flyaway</i> hard up into the +wind, just in time to meet a squall that threw the lee rail under again. +The craft stood still, almost, with the sail shivering. Then Henry Burns +eased her off gently, getting her under headway again. Mr. Bangs was +deathly pale. The spray had dashed aboard freely and drenched him.</p> + +<p>"We've got to reef, and be quick about it," said Henry Burns, addressing +the shivering skipper. "What do you say? It's your boat."</p> + +<p>"What's that—eh, do you think so?" stammered Mr. Bangs. "Reef her? Yes, +that'll stop her tipping, won't it? Oh my! can you do it?"</p> + +<p>His knees were wabbling, and he allowed himself to be pushed aside, +sinking down, pale and trembling on the seat.</p> + +<p>"Here, you take her, Jack," said Henry Burns. "Tim and I'll reef her. We +can do it quick."</p> + +<p>He relinquished the tiller to Harvey, who threw the boat up into the +wind, while Henry Burns and Tim seized the halyards and lowered the sail +sufficiently to take in a double reef. Henry Burns had the tack tied +down in a jiffy; whereupon Harvey drew the sail aft, hauled out on the +pendant and passed a lashing. Henry Burns and Little Tim had the reef +points tied in no time. Before Mr. Bangs's wondering eyes the sail was +hoisted, the topping lift set up, and the boat got under way again +before he had had hardly time to think what had happened.</p> + +<p>It was surprising to see how easily the craft went along under competent +management. The spray flew some and the water came aboard, wetting the +party to the skin and causing alarm; but there was little danger. The +<i>Flyaway</i> no longer took the brunt of the waves, but headed into them a +little, keeping good headway on. What was better, she was making time, +going to windward and approaching the landing.</p> + +<p>Mr. Bangs gradually regained his colour, and took courage.</p> + +<p>"Guess you've sailed some before," he said, with a sickly smile. "You go +at it like old hands."</p> + +<p>"We've got a boat of our own," replied Harvey. "She's down in Samoset +bay. We got a big price for her for the summer, so we let her."</p> + +<p>Mr. Bangs looked a bit sheepish.</p> + +<p>"I'm glad you came along," he said; and added with a glance at Mrs. +Bangs, and in a lower tone, "I haven't sailed very much, to tell the +truth. We do—er—mostly rowing in the Green Pond Fishing Club."</p> + +<p>They came up to the landing in sailor fashion, and the party stepped +out.</p> + +<p>"Glad to see yer back," remarked Coombs. "Got just a bit worried about +you. You came in nicely, though."</p> + +<p>Mr. Bangs smiled good-naturedly.</p> + +<p>"Well," he said, "the fact is, I've got a crew. They are old sailors. +You ought to have seen them reef her quicker'n scat. They're going +along with me after this, for the rest of their stay—and their friends, +too. My wife says she's got enough sailing."</p> + +<p>"I should say I had," said Mrs. Bangs.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIV" id="CHAPTER_XIV"></a>CHAPTER XIV</h2> + +<h3>THE FORTUNE-TELLER</h3> + + +<p>Mr. Bangs proved to be a genial companion in the days that followed. +Nothing suited him better than to fill up the <i>Flyaway</i> with the crew of +campers and go sailing on the pond. No longer seeking to support a +fallen dignity as skipper, he was pleased to receive instruction from +Henry Burns and Harvey, and even occasionally from Little Tim, in the +art of sailing.</p> + +<p>They showed him how to sail the craft nicely to windward, without the +sail shaking; how to run off the wind, with no danger of jibing her; how +to reef with safety, and how to watch the water for signs of squalls. +He, in turn, told them good stories of the Fishing Club; and, as he +really did know how to fish, he returned their instruction with lessons +in this art.</p> + +<p>It was certainly a pretty piece of sport, when Mr. Bangs would take his +light, split-bamboo fly-rod and send fifty feet of line, straightening +out its turns through the air, and dropping a tiny fly on the water as +easily as though it had fallen there in actual flight. Even Harvey, and +Tom and Bob, who had done some little fly fishing, found Mr. Bangs an +expert who could teach them more than they had ever dreamed, of its +possibilities. Little Tim, who had threshed brook waters with an alder +stick, using a ragged fly, was an apt pupil, when Mr. Bangs entrusted to +him his fine rod, and showed him how to make a real cast.</p> + +<p>"There, you're catching it, now," exclaimed Mr. Bangs to Tim, one +morning, as they floated on the still surface of the pond, about a half +mile above the camps. "Don't let your arm go too far back on that back +cast. Don't use your shoulder. You're not chopping wood. Just use the +wrist on the forward stroke, when you get the line moving forward."</p> + +<p>Tim, enthusiastic, tried again and again, striving to remember all +points at once, and now and then making a fair cast.</p> + +<p>It was only practice work; but, somehow or other, a big black bass +failed to understand that, and suddenly Tim's quick eye saw the water in +a whirl about his fly. He struck, and the fish was fast.</p> + +<p>"Well, by Jove!" exclaimed Mr. Bangs. "One never knows what's going to +happen when he's fishing. I didn't think they'd take the fly here at +this time of year. Let him have the line now, when he rushes. That's it. +Now hold him a little."</p> + +<p>The light fly-rod was bending nearly double. Intermittently, the reel +would sing as the fish made a dash for freedom and the line ran out.</p> + +<p>"Look out now; he's turned. Reel in," shouted Mr. Bangs, more excited +even than Little Tim. He wouldn't have had that fish get away for +anything. "Here he comes to the top," he continued. "Reel in on him. +Hold him. There, he's going to jump. Hold him. Don't let him shake the +hook out."</p> + +<p>The black bass, a strong active fish, made a leap out of water, shook +his jaws as though he would tear the hook loose, then shot downward +again.</p> + +<p>"Give him a little on the rod when he hits the water," cried Mr. Bangs. +"That's right. Keep him working now. Don't give him any slack."</p> + +<p>Little Tim, alternately reeling in and lifting on the road, and letting +the fish have the line in his angry-rushes, was playing him well. Mr. +Bangs applauded. Gradually the struggles of the big bass grew weaker. +His rushes, still sharp and fierce, were soon over. By and by he turned +on his side.</p> + +<p>"Careful now," cautioned Mr. Bangs. "Many a good bass is lost in the +landing. Draw him in easy."</p> + +<p>Little Tim followed instructions, and Mr. Bangs deftly slid the landing +net under the prize. He dipped the bass into the boat, took out a small +pair of pocket-scales and weighed him.</p> + +<p>"It's a five-pounder!" he exclaimed. "You've beat the record on Whitecap +this year. Well, fisherman's luck is a great thing. You're a born lucky +fisherman."</p> + +<p>"Now," he added, "we'll just row down to your camp and I'll cook a +chowder that'll make your eyes stick out, and have it all ready when the +boys return. Save them getting a breakfast."</p> + +<p>They went back along shore to the empty camp, deserted by the boys, who +were out for early morning fishing.</p> + +<p>"What do you say?" inquired Mr. Bangs, "Think they'll care if I go ahead +and cook up a chowder? Guess I can do it all right. Oh, I've seen 'em +made, a thousand times, up at the Fishing Club."</p> + +<p>"They'll be glad of it," said Little Tim. "Go ahead."</p> + +<p>Mr. Bangs, rummaging through the campers' stores, proceeded to construct +his chowder; while Tim busied himself about the camp, after building a +fire.</p> + +<p>Mr. Bangs, stirring the mess in a big iron kettle suspended above the +blaze, waved a welcome to the boys, as they came in.</p> + +<p>"Thought you'd like to have breakfast all ready," he cried. "The +<i>Flyaway's</i> waiting for us all to get through."</p> + +<p>They thanked him warmly.</p> + +<p>"Oh, I'm having as much fun as you are out of it," he responded. "Get +your plates and I'll fill 'em up."</p> + +<p>He ladled out a heaping plate of the chowder for each, and they seated +themselves on two great logs. Henry Burns tasted his mess first, and +then he stopped, looked slyly at his comrades and didn't eat any more. +Harvey got a mouthful, and he gave an exclamation of surprise. Little +Tim swallowed some, and said "Oh, giminy!" Tom and Bob and the Ellison +brothers were each satisfied with one taste. They waited, expectantly, +for Mr. Bangs to get his.</p> + +<p>Mr. Bangs, helping himself liberally, started in hungrily. Then he +stopped and looked around. They were watching him, interestedly. Mr. +Bangs made a wry face and rinsed his mouth out with a big swallow of +water.</p> + +<p>"Well, I'll be hanged!" he exclaimed. "If it isn't sweet. Sweet chowder! +Oh dear, isn't it awful? What did it?"</p> + +<p>Henry Burns, looking about him, pointed to a tell-tale tin can which, +emptied of its contents, lay beside the fire.</p> + +<p>Mr. Bangs had made his chowder of condensed milk, sweet and sticky.</p> + +<p>"I say," he exclaimed, "just throw that stuff away and we'll go up to +the landing for breakfast. I thought milk was milk. I never thought +about it's being sweetened."</p> + +<p>They liked Mr. Bangs, in spite of his mistakes; and he wasn't abashed +for long, when he had pretended to be able to do something that he +didn't know how to do, and had been found out. He had a hearty way of +laughing about it, as though it were the best joke in all the world—and +there was one thing he could really do; he could cast a fly, and they +admired his skill in that. And when it came time for them to leave, and +bid him good-bye, they were heartily sorry to take leave of him, and +hoped they should meet him again.</p> + +<p>But Mr. Bangs was not to be gotten free from abruptly. There was +bottled soda and there were stale peanuts over at the landing, where +Coombs kept a small hotel a little way up from the shore; and Mr. Bangs +insisted that they should go over and have a treat at his expense.</p> + +<p>"You don't have to start till four o'clock," he urged. "You've got +plenty of time." And they needed no great amount of persuasion.</p> + +<p>"Funny old place Coombs keeps," he remarked, as they walked from the +camps over to the landing. "All sorts of queer people drop in there over +night. Last night, there were some show people in some of the rooms next +to mine—they're going to leave to-morrow, for the fair up at +Newbury—and they kept me awake half the night, with their racket.</p> + +<p>"They've got a fortune-teller among them, too," he continued. "Say, +she's a shrewd one. Of course, she's one of the fakers, but she's +downright smart—told me a lot of things about myself that were true. +Suppose she looked me over sharp. Say, I tell you what I'll do; I'll get +her to tell your fortunes. How'd you like to have your fortunes told? +I'll pay."</p> + +<p>As matter of fact, they were not so enthusiastic over it as was Mr. +Bangs; but they didn't like to say so, since he seemed to take it for +granted that they did. So, after they had had the soda and peanuts, Mr. +Bangs ushered them, one by one, into a room, where the fortune-teller +awaited them.</p> + +<p>Perhaps she flattered most of them over-much; perhaps she even hinted at +certain bright-eyed, yellow-haired young misses, whom some of them +might fancy, but were not of an age to admit it. At all events, as they +came forth, one by one, they made a great mystery of what she had said +to them. Little Tim didn't take kindly to the idea at all, in fact; and, +when it came his turn, Henry Burns and Harvey had to take him and shove +him into the room.</p> + +<p>He was inclined to be a bit abashed when he found himself in the +presence of a tall, dark, thin-faced woman, whose keen, black eyes +seemed to pierce him through and through. In fact, those shrewd, quick +eyes were about all anyone might need, to discover a good deal about +Little Tim, whose small but wiry figure, tanned face, bare feet and +dress indicated much of his condition in life.</p> + +<p>"Come over here and sit down," said the woman, as Tim stood, eying her +somewhat doubtfully. The boy complied.</p> + +<p>"So you want your fortune told, do you?" she asked.</p> + +<p>"I dunno as I care much about it," answered Tim, bluntly.</p> + +<p>The woman smiled a little. "No?" she said. "Let's see your hand."</p> + +<p>Tim extended a grimy fist across the table, the lines of which were so +obscured with the soil of Coombs's landing that it might have puzzled +more than a wizard to read them. But the woman, her keen eyes twinkling, +remarked quickly, "That's a fisherman's hand. You're the best fisherman +on the pond."</p> + +<p>Tim began to take more interest. "I've caught the biggest bass of the +year," he said.</p> + +<p>"That's it; what did I tell you?" exclaimed the woman. "I think you're +going to have a lot of money left to you some day," she added, noting at +a glance Tim's poor attire. Little Tim grinned.</p> + +<p>"You have some courage, too," continued the woman, who had not failed to +observe the boy's features and the glance of his eye. But at this moment +Little Tim gave an exclamation of surprise. Surveying the room he had +espied the lettering on a partly unrolled banner in one corner, where +the words, "Lorelei, the Sorceress," were inscribed.</p> + +<p>"Why, I've seen you before," he said. "That is, I haven't seen you, +either; but I've seen your picture on that canvas—and you don't look +like that at all."</p> + +<p>The woman laughed heartily. "You're sure you don't think it looks like +me?" she added, and laughed harder than ever. "Well, I should hope not," +she said; "but I fix up like that some, for the show. Where'd you see +me?"</p> + +<p>"Why, it was down at Benton," answered Tim. "You were with the circus."</p> + +<p>Then, as the full remembrance of the occasion came to him, Tim became of +a sudden excited. "Say," he asked, "what did Old Witham want?"</p> + +<p>The woman looked at him in surprise.</p> + +<p>"Old Witham," she repeated, "I don't know who you mean. I don't know any +Old Witham."</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes you do," urged Tim; and he described the unmistakable figure +and appearance of the corpulent colonel, together with the time and +night of his visit. The woman's eyes lit with amusement. She remembered +how the colonel had parted with his money painfully.</p> + +<p>"Oh, he didn't want much," she said. "Somebody had hidden some papers in +a factory or mill of some sort—that's what I thought, anyway—and he +wanted me to tell him where they were."</p> + +<p>"Oh," replied Tim, in a tone of disappointment. "Is that all?" He had +really fancied the colonel might have a love affair, and that it would +be great fun to reveal it to the boys.</p> + +<p>"Why, what business is it of yours, what he wanted?" inquired the woman.</p> + +<p>"It ain't any," answered Tim. "Guess I'll go now;" and he made his +escape through the door.</p> + +<p>"Oh, she didn't tell me anything," said Little Tim, as the boys +surrounded him a moment later. "Said I could catch fish, though. How do +you suppose she knew that?"</p> + +<p>Mr. Bangs seemed much amused. "She's a real witch," he exclaimed. "Well, +good-bye, boys. Come again next year."</p> + +<p>They said good-bye and started off.</p> + +<p>"Say, Jack," said Little Tim, as they walked along together, "that's the +fortune-teller that was down to Benton with the circus. Remember I told +you we caught Witham coming out of the tent? Well, I asked her what he +was there for, and it wasn't anything at all. He was only hunting for +some papers that somebody had hidden—"</p> + +<p>"What's that—tell me about that?"</p> + +<p>Henry Burns, who had been walking close by, but who had been not greatly +interested up to this point, had suddenly interrupted. "What did Witham +want?" he repeated.</p> + +<p>Little Tim repeated the fortune-teller's words.</p> + +<p>Henry Burns, hurrying ahead to where the others were walking, caught +John Ellison by an arm and drew him away. "Come back here a minute," he +said. "Here, Tim, tell John what the fortune-teller said about Witham."</p> + +<p>John Ellison, listening to Tim Reardon, grew pale and clenched his fist.</p> + +<p>"That's it," he cried. "There <i>are</i> some other papers, don't you +suppose? Lawyer Estes said there might be; but they couldn't find them, +though they hunted through the mill. I just know there are some. Witham +knew it, too. That's what he was after. Tim, you've found out something +big, I tell you. We've just got to get into that mill again and go +through it. Don't you say a word to anybody, Tim."</p> + +<p>Tim's eyes opened wide with astonishment—but he promised.</p> + +<p>All through the work of striking and packing the two tents, and stowing +the stuff into the wagon, Henry Burns and John Ellison discussed this +new discovery; what it might mean and what use could be made of it. And +all the way home, on the long, dusty road, they talked it over. They +were late getting started, and it was eight o'clock when they turned in +at the Ellison farm.</p> + +<p>The mill had ceased grinding for two hours, and night had settled down. +But, as they got out of the wagon, John Ellison called to Henry Burns +and pointed over the hill toward the mill.</p> + +<p>"Do you see?" he said softly, but in excited tones. "Do you see? That's +what I see night after night, sometimes as late as nine o'clock."</p> + +<p>There was somebody in the old mill, evidently, for the light as from a +lantern was discernible now and again through one of the old, cobwebbed +windows; a light that flickered fitfully first from one floor, then from +another.</p> + +<p>"It's Witham," said John Ellison. "He's always in the mill now, early +and late. I'll bet he's hunted through it a hundred times since he's had +it. It gets on his mind, I guess; for I've seen him come back down the +road many a night, after the day's work was over, and he'd had supper, +and go through the rooms with the lantern."</p> + +<p>"Well," said Henry Burns, quietly, "we'll go through them, too. We'll do +it, some way."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XV" id="CHAPTER_XV"></a>CHAPTER XV</h2> + +<h3>A HUNT THROUGH THE MILL</h3> + + +<p>"Say, Henry, guess what I'm going to do," said John Ellison, as he met +Henry Burns in the road leading from Benton, a few days following the +return from camp.</p> + +<p>Henry Burns, leaning on the paddle he was carrying, looked at his friend +for a moment and then answered, with surprising assurance, "You're going +to work for Witham."</p> + +<p>John Ellison stared at his friend in amazement.</p> + +<p>"You ought to be a fortune-teller," he exclaimed. "You can't have heard +about it, because I haven't told anybody—not even the folks at home. +How'd you know?"</p> + +<p>"I didn't," replied Henry Burns, smiling at the other's evident +surprise. "I only guessed. I knew by the way you looked that it was +something unusual; and I know what you're thinking of all the time; it's +about those papers. So I've been thinking what I'd do, if I wanted a +chance to look for them, and I said to myself that I'd try to go to work +in the mill, and keep my eyes open."</p> + +<p>"Well, you've hit it," responded John Ellison. "I know he needs a man, +and I'm big enough to do the work. Say, come on in with me to-morrow, +will you? I hate to go ask Old Witham for work. You don't mind. Come in +and see what he says."</p> + +<p>"I'll do it," replied Henry Burns. "I'll meet you at the foot of the +hill to-morrow forenoon at ten o'clock. Perhaps he'll hire me, too."</p> + +<p>"You! you don't have to work," exclaimed John Ellison.</p> + +<p>"No, but I will, if he'll take me," said Henry Burns. "I'll stay until I +get one good chance to go through the mill, and then I'll leave."</p> + +<p>"You're a brick," said John Ellison. "I'm going to tell mother about the +scheme now. She won't like it, either. She'd feel bad to have me go to +work there for somebody else, when we ought to be running it ourselves. +Where are you going—canoeing?"</p> + +<p>"Yes; come along?" replied Henry Burns. But John Ellison was too full of +his plan to admit of sport, and they separated, with the agreement to +meet on the following day.</p> + +<p>John Ellison was correct in his surmise that Mrs. Ellison would oppose +his intention to work for Colonel Witham. Indeed, Mrs. Ellison wouldn't +hear of it at all, at first. It seemed to her a disgrace, almost, to ask +favour at the hands of one who, she firmly believed, had somehow tricked +them out of their own. But John Ellison was firm.</p> + +<p>It would be only for a little time, at most; only that he might, at +opportune moments, look about in hope of making some discovery.</p> + +<p>"But what can it possibly accomplish?" urged Mrs. Ellison. "Lawyer Estes +has had the mill searched a dozen times, and there has been nothing +found. How can you expect to find anything? Colonel Witham wouldn't give +you the chance, anyway. He's always around the mill now, and he's been +over it a hundred times, himself, I dare say. Remember how we've seen +his light there night after night?"</p> + +<p>But John Ellison was not to be convinced nor thwarted. "I want to hunt +for myself," he insisted. "You kept it from me, before, when the lawyers +had the searches made."</p> + +<p>"I know it," sighed Mrs. Ellison. "I hated to tell you that we were in +danger of losing the mill."</p> + +<p>"Well, I'm going," declared John Ellison, and Mrs. Ellison gave +reluctant consent.</p> + +<p>Still, she might have saved herself the trouble of objecting, and let +Colonel Witham settle the matter—which he did, summarily.</p> + +<p>It was warm, and miller Witham, uncomfortable at all times in summer +sultriness, was doubly so in the hot, dusty atmosphere of the mill. The +dust from the meal settled on his perspiring face and distressed him; +the dull grinding of the huge stones and the whirr of the shaftings and +drums somehow did not sound in his ears so agreeably as he had once +fancied they would. There was something oppressive about the place—or +something in the air that caused him an unexplainable uneasiness—and he +stood in the doorway, looking unhappy and out of sorts.</p> + +<p>He saw two boys come briskly down the road from the Ellison farm and +turn up the main road in the direction of the mill. As they approached, +he recognized them, and retired within the doorway. To his surprise, +they entered.</p> + +<p>"Well, what is it?" he demanded shortly as John Ellison and Henry Burns +stood confronting him. "What do you want? I won't have boys around the +mill, you know. Always in the way, and I'm busy here."</p> + +<p>"Why, you see," replied John Ellison, turning colour a bit but speaking +firmly, "we don't want to bother you nor get in the way; but I—I want +to get some work to do. I'm big enough and strong enough to work, now, +and I heard you wanted a man. I came to see if you wouldn't hire me."</p> + +<p>Colonel Witham's face was a study. Taken all by surprise, he seemed to +know scarcely what to say. He shifted uneasily and the drops of +perspiration rolled from his forehead. He mopped his face with a big, +red handkerchief, and looked shiftily from one boyish face to the other.</p> + +<p>"Why, I did say I wanted help," he admitted; "but,"—and he glanced at +the youth who had spoken,—"I didn't say I wanted a boy. No, you won't +do."</p> + +<p>"Why, I'm big enough to do the haying," urged John Ellison. "You've got +the mill now. You might give me a job, I think."</p> + +<p>Possibly some thought of this kind might have found fleeting lodgment in +the colonel's brain; of Jim Ellison, who used to sit at the desk in the +corner; of the son that now asked him for work. Then a crafty, +suspicious light came into his eyes, and he glanced quickly at John +Ellison's companion.</p> + +<p>"What do you want here, Henry Burns?" he demanded. "I had you in my +hotel at Samoset Bay once, and you brought me bad luck. You get out. I +don't want you around here. Get out, I say."</p> + +<p>He moved threateningly toward Henry Burns, and the boy, seeing it was +useless to try to remain, stepped outside.</p> + +<p>"No, I don't want you, either," said Colonel Witham, turning abruptly +now to John Ellison. "No boys around this mill. I don't care if your +father did own it. You can't work here. I've no place for you."</p> + +<p>Despite his blustering and almost threatening manner, however, Colonel +Witham did not offer to thrust John Ellison from the mill. He seemed on +the point of doing it, but something stopped him. He couldn't have told +what. But he merely repeated his refusal, and turned away.</p> + +<p>It was only boyish impulse on John Ellison's part, and an innocent +purchaser of the mill would have laughed at him; but he stepped nearer +to Colonel Witham and said, earnestly, "You'll have to let me in here +some day, Colonel Witham. The mill isn't yours, and you know it." And he +added, quickly, as the thought occurred to him, "Perhaps the +fortune-teller you saw at the circus will tell me more than she told +you. Perhaps she'll tell me where the papers are."</p> + +<p>For a moment Colonel Witham's heavy face turned deathly pale, and he +leaned for support against one of the beams of the mill. Then the colour +came back into his face with a rush, and he stamped angrily on the +floor.</p> + +<p>"Confound you!" he cried. "You clear out, too. I don't know anything +about your fortune-tellers, and I don't care. I've got no time to fool +away with boys. Now get out."</p> + +<p>John Ellison walked slowly to the door, leaving the colonel mopping his +face and turning alternately white and red; and as he stepped outside +Colonel Witham dropped into a chair.</p> + +<p>Then, as the boys went on together up the hill to the Ellison farm, +Colonel Witham, recovering in a measure from the shock he had received, +arose from his chair, somewhat unsteady on his legs, and began, for the +hundredth and more time, a weary, fruitless search of the old mill, from +the garret to the very surface of the water flowing under it.</p> + +<p>And as Colonel Witham groped here and there, in dusty corners, he +muttered, "What on earth did he mean? The fortune-teller—how could he +know of that? There's witchcraft at work somewhere. But there aren't any +papers in this mill. I know it. I know it. I know it."</p> + +<p>And still he kept up his search until it was long past the time for +shutting down.</p> + +<p>Three days after this, Lawyer Estes was talking to John Ellison at the +farmhouse.</p> + +<p>"Well, I've run down your witch," he said, smiling; "and there isn't +anything to be made out of her. I've been clear to the fair-grounds at +Newbury to see her. She's a shrewd one; didn't take her long to see that +something was up. Sized me up for a lawyer, I guess, and shut up tighter +than a clam. I told her what I knew, but she swore Tim Reardon was +mistaken.</p> + +<p>"Those people have a fear of getting mixed up with the courts; naturally +suspicious, I suppose. She declared she had said that the man she talked +with asked about some letters he had lost, himself; and that was all she +knew about it. No use in my talking, either. I didn't get anything more +out of her. We're right where we were before."</p> + +<p>"Well, I'm going to get into that mill and look around, just the same," +exclaimed John Ellison. "I'll do it some way."</p> + +<p>"Then you'll be committing trespass," said Lawyer Estes, cautiously.</p> + +<p>"I don't care," insisted the boy. "I won't be doing any harm. I'm not +going to touch anything that isn't ours. But I'm going to look."</p> + +<p>"Then don't tell me about it," said the lawyer. "I couldn't be a party +to a proceeding like that."</p> + +<p>"No, but I know who will," said John Ellison. "It's Henry Burns. He +won't be afraid of looking through an old mill at night—and he'll know +a way to do it, too."</p> + +<p>John Ellison tramped into town, that afternoon, and hunted up his +friend.</p> + +<p>"Why, of course," responded Henry Burns; "it's easy. Jack and I'll go +with you. It won't do any harm, just to walk through a mill." And he +added, laughing, "You know we've been in there once before. Remember the +night we told you of?"</p> + +<p>John Ellison looked serious.</p> + +<p>"Yes," he replied, "and there was something queer about that, too, +wasn't there? You said father went through the mill, upstairs and down, +just the same as Witham does often now."</p> + +<p>"He did, sure enough," said Henry Burns, thoughtfully. "I wish I'd known +what trouble was coming some day; I'd have tried to follow him. Well, +we'll go through all right—but what about Witham?"</p> + +<p>"That's just what I've been thinking," said John Ellison.</p> + +<p>"Well," replied Henry Burns, after some moments' reflection, "leave it +to me. I'll fix that part of it. And supposing the worst should happen +and he catch us all in there, what could he do? We'll get Jack and Tom +and Bob—yes, and Tim, too; he's got sharp eyes. Witham can't lick us +all. If he catches us, we'll just have to get out. He wouldn't make any +trouble; he knows what people think about him and the mill."</p> + +<p>So John Ellison left it to Henry Burns; and the latter set about his +plans in his own peculiar and individual way. The scheme had only to be +mentioned to Jack and the others, to meet with their approval. They were +ready for anything that Henry Burns might suggest. The idea that a night +search, of premises which had already been hunted over scores of times +by daylight, did not offer much hope of success, had little weight with +them. If Henry Burns led, they would follow.</p> + +<p>The night finally selected by Henry Burns and John Ellison would have +made a gloomy companion picture to the one when Harvey and Henry Burns +first made their entry into the mill, under the guidance of Bess +Thornton, except that it did not rain. Henry Burns and John Ellison had +noted the favourable signs of the weather all afternoon; how the heavy +clouds were gathering; how the gusts whipped the dust into little +whirlwinds and blew flaws upon the surface of the stream; how the waning +daylight went dim earlier than usual; and they had voted it favourable +for the enterprise.</p> + +<p>Wherefore, there appeared on the surface of Mill stream, not long after +sundown, two canoes that held, respectively, Henry Burns and Harvey and +Tim Reardon, and Tom Harris and Bob White. These two canoes, not racing +now, but going along side by side in friendly manner, sped quietly and +swiftly upstream in the direction of the Ellison dam. Then, arriving +within sight of it, they waited on the water silently for a time, until +two figures crept along the shore and hailed them. These were John and +James Ellison.</p> + +<p>"It's all right," said John Ellison, in answer to an inquiry; "Witham's +at home, and the place is deserted. And who do you suppose is on watch +up near the Half Way House, to let us know if Witham comes out? Bess +Thornton. I let her in on the secret, because I knew she'd help. She +knows what Old Witham is."</p> + +<p>"Have you got it?" inquired Henry Burns, mysteriously.</p> + +<p>"Sure," responded John Ellison. "It's up close by the mill. Come on."</p> + +<p>They paddled up close to the white foam that ran from the foot of the +dam, where the falling water of the stream struck the basin below, and +turned the canoes inshore. There, up the bank, John Ellison produced the +mysterious object of Henry Burns's inquiry. It proved to be an old +wash-boiler.</p> + +<p>Harvey and the others eyed it with astonishment.</p> + +<p>"What are you going to do with that old thing?" asked Harvey. "This +isn't Fourth of July."</p> + +<p>"That's my fiddle," replied Henry Burns, coolly. "I've got the string in +my pocket."</p> + +<p>With which reply, he took hold of one handle of the wash-boiler and John +Ellison the other; and they proceeded up the bank. The others followed, +grinning.</p> + +<p>"Play us a tune," suggested young Tim.</p> + +<p>"Not unless I have to," replied Henry Burns. "You may hear it, and +perhaps you won't."</p> + +<p>All was desolate and deserted, as they made a circuit of the +surroundings of the mill. It certainly offered no attractions to +visitors, after nightfall. The crazy old structure, unpainted and +blackened with age, made a dark, dismal picture against the dull sky. +The water fell with a monotonous roar over the dam; the cold dripping of +water sounded within the shell of the mill. The wind, by fits and +starts, rattled loose boards and set stray shingles tattooing here and +there. Dust blew down from the roadway.</p> + +<p>"He'll not be out to-night," remarked Harvey, as they looked up the road +in the direction of the Half Way House.</p> + +<p>"You can't tell," replied John Ellison. "We've seen the light in here +some nights that were as bad as this. What say, shall we go in?"</p> + +<p>They followed his lead, around by the way Henry Burns and Harvey had +once before entered, and, one by one, went in through the window. Then +they paused, huddled on a plank, while John Ellison scratched a match +and lighted a sputtering lantern, the wick of which had become dampened. +Across the planking they picked their way, and entered the main room on +the first floor.</p> + +<p>Then Henry Burns and John Ellison made another trip and brought in Henry +Burns's "fiddle," greatly to the amusement of the others.</p> + +<p>"That goes on the top floor," said Henry Burns, and they ascended the +two flights of stairs with it, depositing it upside down, in a corner of +the garret that was boarded up as a separate room, or large closet. Then +Henry Burns, producing from his pocket a piece of closely woven cotton +rope, skilfully tossed one end over a beam above his head; seized the +end as it fell, quickly tied a running knot and hauled it snug. The +rope, made fast thus at one end to the beam, drew taut as he pulled down +on it.</p> + +<p>"That's the fiddle-string, eh Jack?" laughed Henry Burns. "We've made a +horse-fiddle before now, haven't we? that rope's got so much resin on it +that it squeaks if you just look at it."</p> + +<p>He passed the free end of the resined rope through a hole in the bottom +of the upturned wash-boiler, and knotted it so it would not pull out +again.</p> + +<p>"Now where's the fiddle-bow, John?" he asked.</p> + +<p>John Ellison forthwith produced a long bent bow of alder, strung with +pieces of tied horse-hair.</p> + +<p>"Listen," said Henry Burns; and he drew the bow gently across the +resined rope. The sound that issued forth—the combined agony of the +vibrating wash-boiler and the shrill squeak of the rope—was one hardly +to be described. It was like a wail of some unworldly creature, ending +with a shuddering twang that grated even on the nerves of Henry Burns's +companions. Then Henry Burns laid the bow aside and was ready for the +search.</p> + +<p>"That sounds nice on Fourth of July night," he remarked, "but not in +here. Let's see what we can find, John."</p> + +<p>They lighted two more lanterns that they had brought and began their +search. Strangely enough, however, the possibilities that had seemed so +real to John Ellison, as he had gazed day by day upon the old mill he +knew so well, seemed to vanish now that he was within. He had thought +of a hundred and one odd corners where he would search; but now they +offered obviously so little chance of secreting anything that he felt +his hopes begin to wane.</p> + +<p>Still, they went at it earnestly and thoroughly. Through the garret, +with their lanterns lighted, they hunted; lifting aside boxes and +barrels; opening dingy closets; peering into long unused bins. Hoppers +that had been once a part of the mill's equipment, but which had been +displaced by others, were carefully examined; even the rafters overhead +were scrutinized, lest some overlooked box might be found hidden +thereon.</p> + +<p>They went to the floor below, where the great grinding stones were; and +where a tangle of belting and shaftings half filled one room. There were +hiding places a-plenty here; but not one of them yielded anything. Then, +on the main floor, where there was a great safe hidden in one corner, +and the desk. Here they were on forbidden ground. The property was +clearly Witham's, and they would not touch that. They could only search +about the nooks and corners, and sound the boards for secret +hiding-places.</p> + +<p>So on, up and down, in and out; even through the outer room of the mill, +where all was rough and unfinished, and only a plank thrown across here +and there to walk on. There were places enough where a box or package +might be hidden—but where nothing was.</p> + +<p>Yet they continued industriously, and were so absorbed in their search +that they failed to notice that Little Tim had vanished, until Harvey +called to him for something, and he was nowhere to be found.</p> + +<p>They were half frightened for a moment, fearing lest he had slipped and +fallen somewhere; but Harvey laughed at their fears.</p> + +<p>"You can't hurt that little monkey," he said. "He can swim like a fish, +and he's a regular cat on climbing. No, he's up to some trick or other."</p> + +<p>They were aware of this presently—and just a bit startled—at the sound +of a low whistle coming from the outer mill; then Tim Reardon darted in +from the darkness, into the circle of lanterns.</p> + +<p>"He's coming!" he gasped. "I just met Bess Thornton up the road. Cracky, +how I did run! Look out the window; you'll see his lantern. Better turn +ours down, quick."</p> + +<p>They lost no time in following this advice; then crept to the window +that looked on the road and peered out. The swinging and swaying of a +lantern could be seen, indistinctly in the distance. Colonel Witham was +coming. The boys sped quickly up two flights of stairs into the garret.</p> + +<p>What should bring Colonel Witham, night after night, to the old mill, +where he had hunted long and fruitlessly? He, himself, could hardly have +told. Possibly he felt somehow a sense as of security; that, so long as +he was there, there could be nobody else on hand, to search; that he was +guarding his property—against, he knew not what. And, if ever the +thought came to him, that perhaps it had been better for his peace of +mind never to have come into possession of the old mill at all, why, he +did not allow his mind to dwell upon it. That usually set him to +hunting.</p> + +<p>Now the door opened, and Colonel Witham stepped within the mill. And for +all his being there voluntarily, one might have seen by the pallor of +his face that he was half afraid. There, in the shadow, just beyond the +rim of his own lantern light, was the desk where Jim Ellison used to +sit—and sneer at him. Did Colonel Witham recall that? Perhaps. He +lifted the lantern and let the light fall on the spot. The place was +certainly empty.</p> + +<p>For all the relief of that, Colonel Witham uttered a cry very much like +a frightened man, the next moment. Then he was angry, as he felt the +goose-flesh prickling all over him. The sharp night wind had slammed the +little door leading to the outer mill, with a bang, and the noise had +echoed through all the rooms.</p> + +<p>There was nothing in that to be afraid of, and Colonel Witham seated +himself in a chair by the desk, with the lantern beside him on the +floor. Now that he was here, he scarce knew why he had come.</p> + +<p>What was that? Was that a foot-fall on some floor above? Colonel Witham +sat bolt upright in his seat and listened. He took out his handkerchief +and mopped his brow. Then he was angry with himself again. He was +certainly nervous to-night.</p> + +<p>Nervous indeed; for he came out of his chair with a bound, as the wind +suddenly swooped down on the old mill, shrieked past one corner, with a +cry that was almost like a voice, and went on up the stream, crackling +the dead branches of trees and moaning through the pines.</p> + +<p>Colonel Witham started for the door. It was no use; nature was against +him—conspiring to fill him with alarm. He was foolish to have come. He +would go back to the inn.</p> + +<p>But then his natural stubbornness asserted itself. Should a wild night +drive him out of his own mill—when the law couldn't? He turned +resolutely and went slowly back. Nor did he pause on the main floor, but +started up the first flight of stairs.</p> + +<p>Another shriek of the wind, that rattled the loose window panes on the +floor above, as though by a hundred unseen hands. The colonel crouched +down on the stairs for a moment—and then, oh, what a hideous sound was +that!</p> + +<p>Somewhere, from the vague spaces of the upper part of the mill, there +was wafted down to him such a noise as he had never heard; it squeaked +and it thrummed; it moaned deep, and it wailed with an unearthly, +piercing sound. There was the sorrow and the agony of a thousand voices +in it. It blended now with the wind, and added to the cry of that; again +it rose above the wind, and pierced the colonel's very soul.</p> + +<p>Colonel Witham, clutching his lantern with desperation, fairly slid down +the stairs, his legs wabbling weakly as he tried to stay himself. He +landed in a heap at the foot. Then, rising with a mighty effort, he fled +from the mill, up the road to the Half Way House.</p> + +<p>Some moments later, seven boys, shaking with laughter, emerged from the +garret room and resumed their search.</p> + +<p>Colonel Witham had heard the strains of Henry Burns's horse-fiddle.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XVI" id="CHAPTER_XVI"></a>CHAPTER XVI</h2> + +<h3>THE GOLDEN COIN LOST AGAIN</h3> + + +<p>"Let's look, Tim! Let me see. Say, where'd you find it? Bring it here to +the light."</p> + +<p>The crowd of boys, much excited, was jostling Little Tim, plying him +with more questions than he could answer, and each one trying to grasp +at something that he held in his hand.</p> + +<p>Proceeding into the main room of the mill, Tim held his prize close to +the light of three lanterns. It was a small box, tied with cords, and +contained apparently something like coin, by the clinking sound that +came from within.</p> + +<p>"I found it out in the mill, where the water comes in and where the big +wheels are," said Tim, breathlessly. "Sounds as though there was money +in it, don't it? It was just where one of the shafts goes through part +of a beam. The beam is cut away there, and room enough left for this, +right under the shafting. Nobody'd ever think of going near it when the +mill was running; but I climbed up there and took hold of the shaft, and +I spied it."</p> + +<p>He was tearing off the cords as he spoke; and now, as he opened the +cover, sure enough, there was disclosed a handful or two of small coin: +some quarters and dimes and pennies—but nothing of great value. These +were intermingled with some papers, folded small.</p> + +<p>John Ellison snatched at these and quickly unfolded them. But they read +disappointment for him. They were nothing more than a lot of receipted +bills, for supplies brought to the miller. Then they counted the coin. +There was a dollar and eighty odd cents in cash.</p> + +<p>Tim Reardon was elated enough, and evidently thought the discovery +justified any amount of laborious searching; but the faces of John +Ellison and Henry Burns were eloquent of disappointment.</p> + +<p>"Too bad, John," remarked Henry Burns, putting his hand on the other's +shoulder. "I thought we'd struck it at last. Want to hunt any more?"</p> + +<p>John Ellison shook his head. "I've got enough," he said. "I give it up. +We've looked everywhere I can think of."</p> + +<p>"And who gets the money?" inquired Tim, eagerly.</p> + +<p>"I don't know," replied John Ellison, "and I don't care much. But I +don't know as we've got any right to it—though these bills aren't +Witham's, and I suppose the money isn't. The mill is his now, and I +guess we haven't any right to come in here and take this."</p> + +<p>"Well," suggested Henry Burns, "why not ask Witham about it?"</p> + +<p>"Ask Witham!" exclaimed John Ellison. "I won't. I don't want ever to +speak to him again. You can, though, if you want to."</p> + +<p>"All right," said Henry Burns. "I'll ask him. And I'll get the money for +you."</p> + +<p>"I don't want it," exclaimed John Ellison, whose disappointment was +evident in his tone of bitterness. "Give it to Tim—if you get it."</p> + +<p>"All right," said Henry Burns.</p> + +<p>Tim's eyes twinkled.</p> + +<p>It was evening of the following day, and Colonel Witham sat on the porch +of the Half Way House, smoking his pipe. It had been a puzzling day for +him, and he was thinking it over. Going through the mill, along in the +afternoon, he had come upon an extraordinary looking object in the +garret—an old wash-boiler, inverted, with a resined cord running from +the bottom of it up to a beam. And near by lay a sort of bow, strung +with horse-hair.</p> + +<p>What on earth could that be, and how had it come there? Colonel Witham, +at first, had thought it might be some sort of an infernal machine, put +there to destroy the mill. But he had investigated, cautiously, and +demonstrated its harmlessness. And about the floor were a few half +burned matches. Somebody had been in the mill. A faint perception began +to dawn upon him, as the day passed, that it might have been the boys; +but he couldn't wholly figure it out, and it bothered him not a little.</p> + +<p>He thought of notifying the police—but he didn't want them hunting +about the mill—or anybody else. The best thing, he decided, was to keep +quiet, and watch out sharper than ever.</p> + +<p>He was not in a friendly mood, therefore, when, gazing down the road, he +espied Henry Burns approaching on a bicycle, followed closely by Jack +Harvey and Tim Reardon. Moreover, his suspicions were aroused. He was +somewhat surprised, however, when the boys dismounted at a little +distance, leaned their wheels against some bushes and approached the +porch.</p> + +<p>Greater still was the colonel's surprise—indeed, he was fairly taken +aback—when Henry Burns, having bade him good-evening, broached his +subject abruptly, without any preliminaries.</p> + +<p>"Colonel Witham," said Henry Burns, coolly, "we were up in the mill last +night."</p> + +<p>The colonel's eyes stuck out, and he glared at Henry Burns with mingled +astonishment and wrath.</p> + +<p>"Eh, what's that?" he exclaimed, "you were in my mill! Why, you young +rascals, don't you know I could have you all arrested as burglars?"</p> + +<p>"No," replied Henry Burns, "we didn't go to take anything of yours. We +were after some papers that belonged to John Ellison's father. We +weren't going to keep them either, if we found them; just turn them over +to Lawyer Estes."</p> + +<p>"Well, then, it was trespass," cried Colonel Witham, wrathfully. "Who +told you there were papers in the mill. Lawyer Estes didn't—he knows +better."</p> + +<p>"No," replied Henry Burns, "but you told the fortune-teller so."</p> + +<p>"I didn't say that," bellowed Colonel Witham, rising from his chair. But +it was plain the suggestion of the fortune-teller worried him. "What did +you do in there?" he added. "If you did any harm, you'll suffer for it."</p> + +<p>"We didn't," said Henry Burns. "We only played on a horse-fiddle once or +twice. You know there are rats in the mill, colonel. I guess they +scampered when they heard that."</p> + +<p>Colonel Witham had been about to burst forth with an angry exclamation; +but the thought of his own ignominious flight made him pause. Rats, +indeed! He knew there wasn't a rat in the whole mill that had been half +so terrified as he.</p> + +<p>"Now see here," he said, shaking his fist for emphasis, "I know you +didn't do any harm in the mill. It was one of your crazy pranks. But +don't you ever go in there again, or I'll make trouble for you."</p> + +<p>"We're not going to," said Henry Burns.</p> + +<p>"There isn't anything in there, anyway," urged Colonel Witham. "I've +heard that talk, around Benton, and it's all nonsense. You couldn't find +anything in there, if you hunted a hundred years."</p> + +<p>"But we did find something," said Henry Burns, in a matter-of-fact way.</p> + +<p>Colonel Witham's jaw dropped, and he looked at Henry Burns almost +helplessly. He couldn't speak for a moment. Then he asked, huskily, +"What was it you found? None of your pranks now; what did you find?"</p> + +<p>"A small box, with some coins in it," replied Henry Burns; and he +described the hiding place. "There was a dollar and eighty-six cents."</p> + +<p>Colonel Witham looked relieved. "Give them to me," he cried. "You've got +no right to the stuff."</p> + +<p>"Wasn't it Ellison's?" inquired Henry Burns.</p> + +<p>"Never you mind whose it was," cried Colonel Witham. "It was in my mill. +Give it to me, or I'll have the law on you."</p> + +<p>"There were some papers, too," continued Henry Burns.</p> + +<p>Colonel Witham staggered again. The hand that held his pipe shook. Then +his eyes twinkled craftily.</p> + +<p>"Well, you're right smart boys," he said. "Keep the money, if you want +it, or give it to John Ellison. Yes, it was Jim Ellison's—the money +was. But the papers are mine. Have you got them? Give me the papers, and +keep the money. I don't claim the money."</p> + +<p>"Yes, I've got the papers," replied Henry Burns. "Here they are. There's +all there were."</p> + +<p>He handed the package to Colonel Witham, who took it with trembling +hand. Then Henry Burns and his friends made a hurried departure. By the +time the colonel had made an examination of the papers, and had turned, +white with anger, to vent his rage upon them, they were spinning down +the road.</p> + +<p>"Tim," said Henry Burns, as they rode along, "you get the money."</p> + +<p>It was a day or two later, on a sultry afternoon, and Bess Thornton +stood in the doorway of the old house where she and Granny Thornton +lived, looking forth at the sky. A passing shower was sprinkling the +doorsteps with a few big drops, and the girl drew back with a look of +disappointment on her face.</p> + +<p>"It always rains when you don't want it to," she said. "Wish there was +somebody to play with. It's pokey here, with gran' gone to Witham's. I +don't know what to do."</p> + +<p>Something suggested itself to her mind, however, for presently she +opened the door leading to the attic and went up the stairs. It was dark +and silent in the attic, but she threw open a window at either end, +unfastened the blinds, and the daylight entered. It disclosed a clutter +of old household stuff: some strings of pop-corn and dried apples and +herbs hanging from the rafters, and a lot of faded garments, suspended +from nails.</p> + +<p>She tried on an old-fashioned poke-bonnet, looked at herself in a bit of +cracked mirror that leaned against a wash-stand, and laughed at the odd +picture she made. Then, by turns, she arrayed herself in some of the +antiquated garments. She rummaged here and there, until she came to the +old bureau.</p> + +<p>"Gran' always keeps that locked," she said. "I guess nobody'd want to +steal anything from this old place, though. She needn't be so +particular. I wonder where she keeps the key."</p> + +<p>There was no great difficulty in finding that, either, once she had set +about it; for soon her hand rested on the key, as she felt along the +tops of the beams, and came to the one where Granny Thornton had laid +it.</p> + +<p>"I'm going to have a look," said the girl softly to herself. "Gran's +always telling me to keep out of here." Then, as the thought struck her, +she exclaimed, "I'll bet here's where she put the coin."</p> + +<p>The lock of the upper drawer of the bureau yielded readily to the +pressure of the key; she drew the drawer out, and looked within. There +was a mixture of curious odds and ends, from which she picked up a tiny +white dress.</p> + +<p>"That's funny," she exclaimed. "It's a baby's dress. I wonder what gran' +keeps it for; perhaps 'twas mine. It's small, though. Wonder if I was +ever as little as that."</p> + +<p>She took the tiny garment by the sleeves, and held it up against +herself. Then she laughed merrily. "I wish I could ask gran' about it," +she said.</p> + +<p>A small box attracted her eye and she seized that. She got a surprise +then. She had thought that perhaps it might contain the coin. But it +contained that and more. There, indeed, was the golden coin; but, +strangely enough, it was not as she and Tim Reardon had found it, but +affixed to a small golden chain.</p> + +<p>"Oh!" she exclaimed; "Gran' was right, then. It did belong to us, after +all. My, it's pretty, too. Gran' ought to let me wear it."</p> + +<p>She tried to hang it about her neck, but the chain was too short. She +remedied that, however, by piecing it out with two bits of ribbon which +she found in the drawer. These she knotted in a bow at the back of her +neck, and danced over to the mirror, to note the effect of the chain +with its ornament. It was a rare piece of finery in her eyes, and she +gazed upon it long and wistfully.</p> + +<p>"I'm going to wear it awhile," she exclaimed. "It won't hurt it any. +Gran' said I wore it once, when I was little. It's mine, I guess, +anyway."</p> + +<p>She continued her rummaging through the drawer, but it yielded nothing +more to her fancy. She shut the drawer and locked it, and went to look +at herself once more in the piece of mirror. The sun came out from +behind the passing clouds, and, as it streamed in at one of the windows, +it shone on the chain and the coin and on the girl's face.</p> + +<p>"I just can't take it off yet," she said; and, closing the blinds, +tripped down the stairs. But, as she looked out the door, she espied +Granny Thornton coming in at the gate. She thought of the chain and its +coin; and, realizing it was too late to regain the attic and replace it, +slipped quietly out at the shed door and ran down through the fields to +the brook, before Granny Thornton had espied her.</p> + +<p>As she came to the edge of the brook, a small boy, that had been lying +face down on the turf, with an arm deep in the water, rose up and +greeted her.</p> + +<p>"Why, hello, Tim," she said, surprised; "what are you doing?"</p> + +<p>"Trying to tickle that big trout," replied Tim Reardon. "I've been here +half an hour, without moving, but I can't find him. There's where he +lies, though; I've seen him often. But he won't come near; he's too +smart. I'm going to try the pickerel. See here, look what I've got."</p> + +<p>He put a hand into his trousers pocket, and drew forth an object wrapped +in a piece of newspaper. It proved to be a new spoon hook, bright and +shiny, with gleaming red and silver, and a bunch of bright feathers +covering the hooks at the end.</p> + +<p>"Isn't that a beauty!" he exclaimed. "Cost a quarter. I bought it. John +Ellison gave me that money I found in the mill."</p> + +<p>"It's fine," replied the girl. "Going to try it?"</p> + +<p>"Sure," answered Tim. "My rod's hid down by the stream. I wanted to try +to tickle a trout when the shower ruffled the water here. Ever tickle a +trout?"</p> + +<p>Bess Thornton laughed. "No," said she; "nor you, either, I guess."</p> + +<p>"Honest injun, I have," asserted Tim, warmly. "You just put your hand +down in the water, and keep it still for an awful while; and by and by +perhaps a fish'll brush against it. Then he'll keep doing it, and then +you just move your hand and your fingers easy like, and the trout, he +kind er likes it. Then, when you get a good chance, you just grab quick +and throw him out on shore."</p> + +<p>"Hm!" exclaimed the girl; "I'd like to see you do it."</p> + +<p>They went along the brook to the road, passed up the road to a point +some way above the dam, when Tim Reardon presently disappeared in a +clump of bushes; from this he soon emerged, with his bamboo fish-pole. +They went down through the field to the shore.</p> + +<p>Jointing up the rod and affixing the reel, Tim Reardon ran out his line, +tied on the bright spoon-hook and began trolling. The allurement proved +enticing, and presently he hooked a fish. Tim gallantly handed the rod +to Bess Thornton.</p> + +<p>"Pull him in," he said. "I've caught lots of 'em. You can land this +one."</p> + +<p>The girl seized the rod, with a little cry of delight, and lifted the +fish out of water. Then she swung it in on shore, where it lay, with its +green body twisting about in the grass, and its great jaws distended, +showing its sharp teeth.</p> + +<p>"My, isn't he ugly looking!" she exclaimed. "You take the hook out, will +you, Tim?"</p> + +<p>Tim, grasping the squirming fish tightly behind the gills, disengaged +the hook and threw the fish down in the grass again. "That one's yours," +he said.</p> + +<p>The girl still held the pole.</p> + +<p>"Let me try just a minute, will you?" she asked. "If I get another, you +can have it."</p> + +<p>Tim assented readily, and she swung the pole and cast the hook far out +upon the water. She drew it back and forth past a clump of lily pads, +and then cast again. She was not as skilful with the long rod as the boy +had been, however; and once, as she cast, the line did not have time to +straighten out behind her, and the hook fell in the water close by the +shore. She jerked it out and tried to cast again.</p> + +<p>The hook swung in, almost striking her in the face; and both she and Tim +Reardon dodged. The next moment, she made a sweep with the rod, to throw +the hook back toward the water. Something caught, and she felt a slight +tug at her neck. She dropped the rod and uttered a cry of dismay.</p> + +<p>"What's the matter?" cried Little Tim. "Did you get hooked?"</p> + +<p>But the girl made no answer. She stood, holding the ends of the broken +chain in either hand, anxiously looking all about her.</p> + +<p>"The coin!" she gasped. "Tim, I've lost the coin. Oh, won't gran' give +it to me if I've lost that again!"</p> + +<p>They hunted everywhere about them, parting the tufts of grass carefully +and poking about on hands and knees. But the coin was nowhere to be +seen.</p> + +<p>"I tell you what," suggested Tim, "it's gone into the water. Never mind, +though; I can get it. I'll dive for it."</p> + +<p>They were at the edge of a little bank, from which the water went off +deep at a sharp angle. They gazed down into the water, but there was not +light enough within its depths, nor was it sufficiently clear to enable +them to see the bottom.</p> + +<p>"I'm going in after it, too," exclaimed Bess Thornton; "but I can't in +this dress." She glanced at the sailor-suit she wore. "I'm going back to +the house and put on the old one. You try for it while I'm gone, won't +you, Tim?"</p> + +<p>The boy nodded; and Bess Thornton, half in tears, started off on a smart +run to the old house. In her dismay, she had forgotten that Granny +Thornton had returned from the inn; but she was speedily aware of that +fact as she darted in at the kitchen door. There stood Granny Thornton, +with mingled anger and alarm depicted on her countenance.</p> + +<p>"Oh," she cried, "I'd just like to shake you, good. Give me back that +chain and the coin. Don't say you didn't take it. I found it gone. What +do you mean by going into that drawer? Don't you ever—"</p> + +<p>She stopped abruptly, for Bess Thornton was facing her, the tears +standing in her eyes, and she held in her hand the broken chain.</p> + +<p>"Oh, gran'," she cried, "don't scold. I didn't mean any harm. I just +wanted to wear it a little while. But it's—it's gone."</p> + +<p>And she told the story of the loss of the coin.</p> + +<p>Granny Thornton stared at the girl in amazement. Then she burst forth in +querulous tones, seemingly as though she were addressing the girl and +soliloquizing at the same time.</p> + +<p>"It's gone!" she gasped. "Gone again—and sure there's a fate in it. +Plenty of chains like that to be had, but never another coin of the kind +seen about these parts. Oh, but you've gone and done it. Don't you know +that coin meant luck for you, girl? You might have gone to the big house +to live some day; but you'll never go now. You've lost the luck. You're +bad—bad. There's no making you mind. Give me the chain."</p> + +<p>Her voice grew more harsh and angry. "Let the coin go," she said. +"You've lost it, and you can suffer for it. You'll not go out of this +house again to-day."</p> + +<p>Puzzled at her strange words, and hurt at the scolding, Bess Thornton +sat sullenly. "I'll get it back to-morrow, if I can't to-day," she said. +"I'm going to dive for it."</p> + +<p>"You keep away from the water, do you hear?" replied Granny Thornton; +but, a half-hour later, she seemed to have changed her mind. "Go and get +it, if you can," she said, shortly. "Change that dress—and don't get +drowned."</p> + +<p>But Little Tim, in the mean time, had not been idle. Hastily throwing +off his clothing, he dived again and again into the deep pool, swimming +to the bottom and groping about there. He brought up handfuls of sticks +and small stones, and the debris of the water's bed. A dozen times he +was unsuccessful—and then, at last, as he clung to the bank and opened +his fist for the water to thin the mud and ooze that he had clutched, +there lay the golden coin, bright and shining in his palm.</p> + +<p>He scrambled out, had his clothes on in a twinkling, dropped the coin +into one of his pockets, and started off on a run down the road.</p> + +<p>Perhaps old Granny Thornton had been right, however, when she exclaimed +that there was a fate in the mysterious foreign piece; for when Tim +Reardon reached his hand into his pocket presently, to see that the coin +was safe—lo, it had once more disappeared. Little Tim, with a look of +chagrin, turned his pocket inside out. A tell-tale hole in one corner +accounted for the disappearance. Tim, muttering his disgust, slowly +retraced his steps, kicking away the dust with his bare feet.</p> + +<p>He was still searching for the coin when Bess Thornton returned. They +were both searching for it an hour later. But the coin was lost.</p> + +<p>"I'm awful sorry," said Tim, as they finally relinquished the search. +"I'll tell you what, though. It's my fault, and I've got a dollar and +sixty cents left at home, and I'll give you that."</p> + +<p>The girl shook her head sadly. "I wouldn't take it," she replied.</p> + +<p>Two hours later, Benny Ellison, strolling homeward, with gun over +shoulder, and two pickerel dangling from a crotched stick, espied +something gleaming in the grass by the roadside. He stooped and picked +up a golden coin.</p> + +<p>"What luck!" he exclaimed. He put the coin in his pocket and carried it +home. He had a collection of curiosities there, in an old cabinet, that +he valued highly: coins, stamps, birds' nests, queer bits of stone and +odds and ends of stuff. Seeing that the coin was punched, and foreign, +and not available for spending money, he placed it among his treasures. +He was a curiously unsocial youth; had few pleasures that he shared with +his cousins, but gloated over his own acquisitions quietly like a miser. +He rejoiced silently in this new addition to his hoard, and said nothing +about it.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XVII" id="CHAPTER_XVII"></a>CHAPTER XVII</h2> + +<h3>A STRANGE ADMISSION</h3> + + +<p>The days went by, and summer was near its end. Then, with the vacation +drawing to a close, there came a surprise for Henry Burns, in the form +of a letter from his aunt. It was she with whom he lived, in a +Massachusetts town; but now she wrote that she had decided to spend the +winter in Benton, and that he must enter school there at the fall term, +along with Tom Harris and Bob White. "Then I stay, too," exclaimed Jack +Harvey, when he had read the important news—and he did. The elder +Harvey, communicated with, had no objection; and, indeed, there was a +most satisfactory arrangement made, later, that Jack Harvey should board +with Henry Burns and his aunt; an arrangement highly pleasing to the two +boys, if it added later to the concern and worry of the worthy Miss +Matilda Burns.</p> + +<p>The days grew shorter and the nights cool; and, by and by, with much +reluctance, the canoes were hauled ashore for the last time, of an +afternoon, and stored away in a corner of the barn back of the camp; and +fishing tackle for summer use was put carefully aside, also. There were +lessons to be learned, and fewer half-days to be devoted to the sport +for which they cared most.</p> + +<p>The pickerel in the stream and the trout in the brook sought deeper +waters, in anticipation of winter. The boys spent less and less of their +time in the vicinity of the old Ellison farm.</p> + +<p>Tim and Young Joe Warren stuck mostly by the camp, and drew the others +there on certain select occasions. For Little Tim, by reason of long +roving, had a wonderful knowledge of the resources of the country around +the old stream. He had a beechnut grove that he had discovered, three +miles back from the water, on the farther shore; likewise a place where +the hazel bushes were loaded with nuts, and where a few butternut trees +yielded a rich harvest. Young Joe and he gathered a great store of +these, as the nights of early frost came on; and they spread a feast for +the others now and then, with late corn, roasted in questionable fashion +over a smoky box-stove that heated the camp stifling hot.</p> + +<p>October came in, with the leaves growing scarlet in the woods and sharp +winds whistling through the corn and bean stacks. Henry Burns and his +friends had seen but little of the Ellisons, who were out of school for +the winter, caring for the farm; but now the night of the 31st of +October found Henry Burns and Jack Harvey, George Warren, Bob White and +Tom Harris seated in the big kitchen of the Ellison farmhouse.</p> + +<p>It was plainly to be seen that, although the Ellisons had been reduced +in circumstances through the loss of the mill, there was still an +abundance of its kind yielded by the farm. On a table were dishes of +apples and fall pears; two pumpkin pies of vast circumference squatted +near by, close to a platter of honey and a huge pitcher of milk.</p> + +<p>It was dark already, though only half-past seven o'clock, and the lights +of two kerosene lamps gleamed through the kitchen windows.</p> + +<p>As hosts on this occasion, John and James Ellison presently proceeded to +introduce their city friends to the delights of milk and honey; a dish +composed of the dripping sweet submerged in a bowl of creamy milk, and +eaten therewith, comb and all.</p> + +<p>"Never hurt anybody eaten that way," explained John Ellison, "and this +is the real thing. The milk is from the Jersey cows in the barn, and the +honey's from the garret, where there's five swarms of bees been working +all summer."</p> + +<p>They need no urging, however.</p> + +<p>"Poor Joe! He'll die of grief when I tell him about this," remarked +George Warren, smacking his lips over a mouthful.</p> + +<p>"Why didn't you bring him along?" asked John Ellison. "I wanted you all +to come."</p> + +<p>"Arthur's off down town, and Joe's gone to the camp with Tim Reardon," +explained the eldest of the Warren brothers. "Tim and Joe'll be +sky-larking around somewhere later. They're great on Hallowe'en night, +you know. They've got a supply of cabbage-stumps to deliver at the +doors."</p> + +<p>And thus the talk drifted to Hallowe'en, the night when, if old +romances could only be believed, there are witches and evil spirits +abroad, alive to all sorts of pranks and mischief.</p> + +<p>In the midst of which, and most timely, there came suddenly a sharp tap +at one of the windows. They paused and turned quickly in that direction. +James Ellison sprang to the window and peered out.</p> + +<p>"Nothing there," he said; "one of those big beetles, I guess, attracted +by the light."</p> + +<p>They fell to eating again, when presently another smart rap at the +window startled them.</p> + +<p>John Ellison laughed. "It's some of fat old Benny's nonsense," he said. +"He wouldn't come in, because you city chaps were coming. He's rigged a +tick-tack; I can see the string of it. Wait a minute and I'll just steal +'round the other door and catch him at it. You fellows go on eating, and +don't pay any attention. I'll catch him."</p> + +<p>They resumed the feast; and again the sharp rap sounded upon the window +pane, caused by the clicking of a heavy nail—suspended from the window +sash by a pin and string, and yanked by somebody at the end of a longer +string attached—swinging in against the glass.</p> + +<p>There came a yell of surprise shortly; and, in a moment, there appeared +John Ellison clutching the culprit by the collar. Which culprit, to +their astonishment, proved to be, not Benny Ellison but Young Joe.</p> + +<p>"Here he is," laughed John Ellison, dragging in his prisoner. "What'll +we do with him?"</p> + +<p>"Clean him," suggested George Warren, winking at the others. "He's got a +dirty face."</p> + +<p>True enough, Young Joe had, in the course of his evening's adventures, +acquired a streak of smut across one cheek.</p> + +<p>Roaring at the suggestion, they seized the struggling captive, lifted +him up bodily to the sink, where they held him face upward under a +stream of water, pumped with a vigour. When they had done with him, +Young Joe's face was most assuredly clean.</p> + +<p>"Now," said John Ellison, as they set Joe on his feet again, "there's a +towel. Dry up and come and have some honey."</p> + +<p>Young Joe, grinning, and with a joyous vision of honey and pumpkin pie +before him, obeyed with alacrity.</p> + +<p>"Say," he said, cramming a spoonful of the mess into his mouth, and +gulping it with huge satisfaction, "can Tim come in? He's out there."</p> + +<p>"Sure, bring him in," assented John Ellison.</p> + +<p>A few shrill whistles from Young Joe brought his companion to the door; +and Tim Reardon was soon likewise equipped with bowl and spoon—but not +before he had got his ducking at the kitchen pump, which he took with +Spartan fortitude.</p> + +<p>Honey and milk, pies and fruit soon disappeared rapidly at the renewed +attack. A fresh pie, added largely for the benefit of Young Joe and Tim, +went the way of the others. Young Joe gave a murmur of surfeited delight +as the last piece of crust disappeared; while Little Tim was gorged to +the point almost of speechlessness, and could hardly shake his head at +the proffer of more.</p> + +<p>"Well," said George Warren, at length, "what are you two chaps doing +around here, anyway—I'll bet Joe smelled the food, clear down to the +camp."</p> + +<p>Young Joe, in reply, turned to John Ellison, and motioned toward the +farmyard. "Give us one of those pumpkins?" he asked.</p> + +<p>The pumpkins referred to lay in a great golden heap beside one of the +barns; and there were a few scattered ones lying out in the corn-field +beyond.</p> + +<p>"Why, sure," responded John Ellison. "Have as many as you want." And he +added, with a sly wink at George Warren, "We give a lot of them to the +pigs. You're welcome."</p> + +<p>Young Joe, lifting himself out of his chair with some effort, due to the +weight of pie and honey stowed within, disappeared through the door. He +returned, shortly, carrying a large handsome pumpkin on his shoulder.</p> + +<p>"What are you going to do with it?" asked John Ellison.</p> + +<p>Young Joe grinned. "Going to give it to Witham," he said.</p> + +<p>In preparation for this act of generosity, Young Joe proceeded to carve +upon one side of the pumpkin a huge, grinning face. Having finished +which, with due satisfaction to artistic details, he stood off and +admired his own handiwork.</p> + +<p>"Looks a little like Witham," he said. "Only it looks better-natured +than he does."</p> + +<p>"You'd better let Witham alone," said George Warren, assuming the +patronizing tone of an elder brother. "He's in a bad humour these days."</p> + +<p>"Not going to do any harm," replied Young Joe. "Going to put it up on +the flag-pole, eh Tim? Come along with us?"</p> + +<p>"Why, if it's got to be done," said Henry Burns, speaking with the +utmost gravity, "I suppose we might as well go along and see that it's +done right and shipshape;" and he arose from his chair. So, too, the +others, save John Ellison.</p> + +<p>"You fellows go ahead," he said, "and then come back. I don't feel like +playing a joke on Witham. I'm too much in earnest about him."</p> + +<p>"That's so," returned Henry Burns. "I don't blame you. We'll be back in +no time."</p> + +<p>They went down the hill, soon after, carrying the pumpkin between them +by turns. They cut across the field on the hill slope, crossed the old +bridge over the brook, and went on up the road toward the Half Way +House.</p> + +<p>"Look out for Bess Thornton," said Jim Ellison, who had accompanied +them. "She and the old woman are here now for the winter, keeping house +for Witham."</p> + +<p>"She won't let on, if she comes out," said Tim.</p> + +<p>But they saw nothing of her. Tired out with her day's work, the girl had +gone to bed and was soundly sleeping.</p> + +<p>They arrived presently at a little plot of grass in front of the inn, +from the centre of which there rose up a lofty flag-pole. It had been +erected by some former proprietor, for the patriotic purpose of flying +the American flag; but, to Colonel Witham's thrifty mind, it had offered +an excellent vantage for displaying a dingy banner, with the +advertisement of the Half Way House lettered thereon. This fluttered now +in a mournful way, half way up the mast, as though it were a sign of +mourning for the quality of food and lodging one might expect at the +hands of Colonel Witham.</p> + +<p>A dim light shone in the two front office windows of the inn, but the +shades were drawn so that they could not see within. Other than the +lamplight, there seemed to be a flickering, uncertain, intermittent +gleam, or variation of the light, indicating probably a fire in the open +hearth.</p> + +<p>The boys waited now for a moment, till Henry Burns, who had volunteered, +went quietly up toward the hotel, to reconnoitre. He came back +presently, saying that there was a side window, shaded only by a blind, +half-closed on the outside, through which he had been able to make out +old Granny Thornton and Colonel Witham seated by the fire.</p> + +<p>"Run up the pumpkin," he said; "I'll go back there again and keep watch. +If Witham starts to come out, I'll whistle, and we'll cut and run."</p> + +<p>He went back to the window, and took up his place there.</p> + +<p>"Cracky!" exclaimed Young Joe; "who's going to shin that pole? It's a +high one. Wish I hadn't eaten that last piece of pie. How about you, +Tim?"</p> + +<p>"I can do it," asserted Tim, stoutly.</p> + +<p>"Nonsense!" exclaimed Harvey. "There's the halyards. What more do you +want? You cut a hole through the pumpkin, George, clear through the +middle, so we can pass an end of the rope, and I'll see that it goes up, +and stays."</p> + +<p>The pumpkin being duly pierced, one free end of the halyard was passed +through the hole. Then Harvey proceeded to tie a running knot, through +which he passed the other free end of rope. They took hold with a will, +and hoisted. Quickly, the golden pumpkin was borne aloft; when it +brought up at the top of the pole, the running knot drew tight, and the +pumpkin was fast—with the difficulty presenting itself to whomever +should seek to get it down, that the harder one pulled on the loose end +of rope, the tighter he would draw the knot that held the thing high in +air.</p> + +<p>Now it shone forth in the darkness like an evil sort of beacon, its +silly grotesque face grinning like a true hobgoblin of Hallowe'en; for, +having scooped out its pulp and seeds, they had set a candle therein and +lighted it just before they sent it aloft.</p> + +<p>"Great, isn't it?" chuckled Young Joe. "Now let's get Henry Burns, and +give Colonel Witham notice." But, strangely enough, Henry Burns did not +respond to their whistles, low at first, then repeated with louder +insistence.</p> + +<p>"That's funny," said George Warren. "Wait here a minute and I'll go and +get him." But, to his surprise, when he had approached the corner of +the inn, where he could see Henry Burns, still crouching by the +half-opened blind, the latter youth turned for a moment and motioned +energetically for him to keep away.</p> + +<p>"Come on," whispered George Warren, "the thing's up; we want to get +Witham out to see it."</p> + +<p>But Henry Burns only turned again and uttered a warning "sh-h-h," then +resumed his place at the window.</p> + +<p>George Warren crept up, softly.</p> + +<p>It was not surprising that Henry Burns had been interested by what he +saw in the old room of the inn, and by what he at length came to hear. +At first glance, there was Colonel Witham, fat and red-faced, strangely +aroused, evidently labouring under some excitement, addressing himself +vigorously to the old woman who sat close by. His heavy fist came down, +now and then, with a thump on the arm of the chair in which he sat; and +each time this happened poor old Granny Thornton jumped nervously as +though she had been struck a blow. Her thin, peaked face was drawn and +anxious; her eyes were fixed and staring; and she shook as though her +feeble old frame would collapse.</p> + +<p>Henry Burns, surprised at this queer pantomine, gazed for a moment, +unable to hear what was being said. Then, the voice of Colonel Witham, +raised to a high pitch, could be clearly distinguished. What he said +surprised Henry Burns still more.</p> + +<p>"I tell you I'll have her," cried Colonel Witham; "you've got to give +her to me. What are you afraid of? I won't starve her. Where'll she go +when you die, if you don't? Let her go to the poorhouse, will you?"</p> + +<p>And he added, heartlessly, "You can't live much longer; don't you know +that?"</p> + +<p>Old Granny Thornton, half lifting herself from her chair, shook her head +and made a reply to Colonel Witham, which Henry Burns could not hear. +But what she said was perhaps indicated by Colonel Witham's reply.</p> + +<p>"Yes, I do like her," he said. "She's a flyaway and up to tricks, but +I'll take that out of her. I'll bring her up better than you could. I +need her to help take care of the place."</p> + +<p>Again the woman appeared to remonstrate. She pointed a bony finger at +Colonel Witham and spoke excitedly. Colonel Witham's face flushed with +anger.</p> + +<p>"I tell you you've got to give her to me," he cried. "I'll swear you put +her in my charge. I'll take her. It's that, or I'll pack you both off to +the poorhouse. I'll make out the papers for you to sign. You'll do it; +you've got to."</p> + +<p>Old Granny Thornton sprang from her chair with a vigour excited by her +agitation. She clutched an arm of the chair with one hand, while she +raised the other impressively, like a witness swearing to an oath in +court. And now, her voice keyed high with excitement, these words fell +upon the ears of Henry Burns:</p> + +<p>"You'll never get her, Dan Witham. You can't have her. She's been here +too long already. She's going back, now. I can't give her away, +because—because she's not mine to give. She's not mine, I tell you. +She's not mine!"</p> + +<p>Then, her strength exhausted by the utterance, she sank back once more +into her seat.</p> + +<p>Colonel Witham, his face blank with amazement, sought now to rouse her +once more. He arose and grasped her by an arm. He shook her.</p> + +<p>"Whose is she, then, if she's not yours?" he asked. "Whom does she +belong to?"</p> + +<p>What answer Granny Thornton made—if any—to this inquiry, was lost to +Henry Burns; for, at this moment, George Warren, stealing to the window, +tripped over a running vine and fell with a crash, amid a row of milk +pans that Henry Burns had carefully avoided.</p> + +<p>Henry Burns got one fleeting glimpse of the two by the fire springing up +in alarm, as he and George Warren fled from the spot. A moment more, the +others had joined them in flight, whooping and yelling to bring Colonel +Witham to the door.</p> + +<p>Looking back, as they ran, they saw presently a square patch of light +against the dark background of the house, where Colonel Witham had +thrown wide the front door; and, in the light that streamed forth from +within, the figure of the colonel stood disclosed in full relief. He was +gesticulating wildly, with angry gaze directed toward the grinning face +of the pumpkin.</p> + +<p>Colonel Witham strode down from the piazza and walked rapidly to the +foot of the flag-staff. He seized the one end of the halyards that +dangled within reach, and jerked hard upon it, endeavouring to shake the +pumpkin from its lofty position. But it was of no avail. Every tug upon +the rope served only to tighten the knot. The colonel glared helplessly +for a moment, and then returned into the inn.</p> + +<p>Again he emerged, bearing something in his hand, which he raised and +aimed directly at the gleaming face. A report rang out. The echoes of +the sound of Colonel Witham's shotgun startled the crows in all the +nests around. But the pumpkin stayed. The shot had only buried itself +within its soft shell. The colonel would not give up so easily, however. +Again and again he fired, hoping to shatter the pumpkin, or to sever the +rope that held it.</p> + +<p>Presently a shot extinguished the light within; and it was no longer an +easy mark to see. Breathing vengeance upon all the boys for miles +around, Colonel Witham finally gave it up, and retired, vanquished, to +the inn, to await another day. The pumpkin was still aloft.</p> + +<p>"Say, Henry," asked George Warren, as they started off up the hill +again, "what did you see in there, anyway? What did you want me to keep +away for?"</p> + +<p>Henry Burns, sober-faced and puzzled, gave a groan of disappointment. +"Oh, if you'd only kept away for a moment," he exclaimed. "I can't tell +you now; wait till by and by."</p> + +<p>"Jack," he added, addressing his friend, "I'm going down to Benton. Tell +John I couldn't come back. I've got something to do." And, to the +surprise of his companions, Henry Burns left them abruptly, and went +down the road at a rapid pace.</p> + +<p>He had something to think over, and he wanted to be alone. What he had +heard puzzled and astounded him. There was a mystery in the old inn, of +which he had caught a fleeting hint. What could it all mean? He turned +it over in his mind a hundred different ways as he walked along; as to +what he had best do; whom he should tell of his strange discovery—what +was the mystery of Bess Thornton's existence?</p> + +<p>Certainly the air was full of mystery and strange surprises, this +Hallowe'en night; and the old Ellison house up on the hill was not free +from it. An odd thing happened, also, there. For, passing by the old +cabinet where Benny Ellison hoarded his treasures, something impelled +Mrs. Ellison to pause for a moment, open the doors and look within.</p> + +<p>She smiled as she glanced over the shelves, with the odds and ends of +boyish valuables arranged there; a book of stamps; some queer old +coloured prints of Indian wars; birds' nests; fishing tackle; a +collection of birds' eggs and coins. There were some two score of these +last, set up endwise in small wooden racks. She glanced them over—and +one, bright and shiny, attracted her attention. She took it up and held +it to the light. Then she uttered a cry and sank down on the floor.</p> + +<p>Strangely enough, when John and Benny Ellison rushed in, at the sound of +her voice, she was sitting there, sobbing over the thing; and they +thought her taken suddenly ill. But she started up, at the sight of +Benny Ellison, and asked, in a broken voice, how he had come by it. And +when he had told her, she seemed amazed and strangely troubled.</p> + +<p>"Then someone must have dropped it there recently," she exclaimed. "How +could that be? It must be the same. I never saw another like it. Oh, +what can it mean?"</p> + +<p>Strangest of all to Benny Ellison, she would not return the coin to his +collection; but held it fast, and only promised that she would +recompense him for it. He went to bed, sullen and surly over the loss of +his treasure. Mrs. Ellison held the coin in her hand, gazing upon it as +though it had some curious power of fascination, as she went to her room +and shut the door.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XVIII" id="CHAPTER_XVIII"></a>CHAPTER XVIII</h2> + +<h3>GRANNY THORNTON'S SECRET</h3> + + +<p>The second day following these happenings, Tim Reardon sat on a bank of +the stream, a short distance above the Ellison dam, fishing. There was +no off-season in the matter of fishing, for Little Tim. Nobody else +thought of trying for the pickerel now. But Tim Reardon fished the +stream from early spring until the ice came; and, in the winter, he +chopped through the ice, and fished that way, in the deep holes that he +knew.</p> + +<p>He was no longer barefoot, for the days were chilly. A stout pair of +shoes protected his feet, which he kicked together as he dangled a long +pole out from the shore. He was fishing in deep water now, with a lead +sinker attached to his line; and, beside him, was a milk-can filled with +water and containing live shiners for bait. These he had caught in the +brook.</p> + +<p>The fish weren't biting, but Little Tim was a patient fisherman. He was +so absorbed, in fact, in the thought that every next minute to come he +must surely get the longed-for bite, that he failed to note the approach +of a man from the road. And when, all at once, a big hand closed upon +his coat collar, he was so surprised and gave such a jump that he would +have lost his balance and gone into the stream, if the hand had not held +him fast. Squirming about, in the firm grasp of the person who held him, +Tim turned and faced Colonel Witham.</p> + +<p>"Well, I reckon I've got yer," was Colonel Witham's comment. "No use in +your trying to wriggle away."</p> + +<p>The fact was quite evident, and Tim's face clouded.</p> + +<p>"I haven't done anything to hurt," he said. "Lemme go."</p> + +<p>"Who said you had," replied Colonel Witham, grimly. "I didn't say you +had—and I didn't say you hadn't. I wouldn't take chances on saying that +you hadn't done a whole lot of things you oughtn't to. You've got to +come along with me, though. I'm not going to hurt yer. You needn't be +scared."</p> + +<p>He changed his grip on the boy, from the latter's collar to one wrist, +which he held firmly.</p> + +<p>"Pick up your stuff," he said, "and come along with me. No use jumping +that way. I've got you, all right."</p> + +<p>Little Tim, thinking over his sins, reached down and picked up the can +of bait.</p> + +<p>"I haven't done anything to hurt," he repeated.</p> + +<p>"Hm!" exclaimed the colonel. "Reckon you've done a lot of things to +hurt, if people only knew it. Here, I'll take that can. You carry your +pole. Now come along."</p> + +<p>"What for?" asked Tim, obeying the colonel's command to "come along" +with him.</p> + +<p>"I'll show you what I want," replied Colonel Witham. "You know well +enough, I guess, without any of my telling. Oh, I know you'll say you +don't; but I don't care anything about that. Just come along."</p> + +<p>They proceeded out to the road, whence they turned and went in the +direction of the inn. Tim thought of the pumpkin, and his heart sank. He +was going to "catch it" for that, he thought.</p> + +<p>They came up to the flag-staff presently, and Tim repressed a chuckle +with difficulty; for there, as on the night they had sent it aloft, hung +the big pumpkin, grinning down on them both.</p> + +<p>"There," said Colonel Witham, "you didn't have any hand in that—oh, no! +You wouldn't do it, of course. You never did nothing to hurt. I know +you. But see here, youngster"—and he gave a twist to Tim's +wrist—"you've got to get it down, do you understand?"</p> + +<p>Tim gave a sigh of relief. It wasn't a "whaling," after all.</p> + +<p>"Now," continued Colonel Witham, eying him sharply, "perhaps you had a +hand in that, and perhaps you didn't. I don't know and I don't care. +What I want is, to get it down. You needn't say you didn't do it, +because I wouldn't believe any of you boys, anyway. But I'm going to do +the right thing." The colonel hesitated a moment. "I'm going to be +handsome about it. You get that down and I'll give you a +quarter—twenty-five cents, do you hear?"</p> + +<p>Little Tim nodded.</p> + +<p>"Well," Colonel Witham went on, "you give me that fish-pole. I'm not +going to have you cut and run. I'm too smart for that."</p> + +<p>So saying, the colonel seized the boy's fish-pole, and relinquished his +grasp of his wrist.</p> + +<p>"Reckon you won't run away long as I've got this," he said. "Now can you +shin that pole?"</p> + +<p>"Sure," replied Tim. He glanced up at the lofty peak of the flag-staff, +then began removing his shoes and stockings. He was up the pole the next +moment like a squirrel, clinging fast with arms and bare toes. Half-way +up he rested, by clutching the halyard and twisting it about his arm.</p> + +<p>"Little monkey!" ejaculated Colonel Witham; "I'd give a dollar to know +if he put it up there. Well, reckon I've got to give him that quarter, +though, as long as I said I would."</p> + +<p>Tim did the topmost length of the pole cautiously. It was a high one, +with a slim topmast spliced on with iron bands. He knew how to climb +this like a sailor; careful to hold himself close in to the slender +stick, and not throw his weight out, so as to put a strain on it that +might cause it to snap and let him fall; careful not to get it to +swaying.</p> + +<p>Then, almost at the very top, he rested again for a moment, sustaining +part of his weight by the halyards, as before. When he had got his +breath, he drew himself up close to where the big pumpkin hung, on the +opposite side; dug his toes in hard, and held on with them and one hand. +He reached his other hand into a trousers' pocket, and drew forth a +knife that he had opened before he began the ascent.</p> + +<p>Holding fast to the pole, he cut the rope that held the pumpkin. It +fell, grazing one of his knees, and would have dislodged him had he not +guarded against it. The next moment, it landed with a crash at the base +and was shattered into fragments.</p> + +<p>Little Tim laboriously loosened the knot Harvey had tied, and let the +halyard run free. A moment more, and he was on the ground with Colonel +Witham.</p> + +<p>The colonel eyed the wreck of the hobgoblin with satisfaction. Then he +turned to Tim.</p> + +<p>"You're a smart little rascal," he said, "and a plucky one. I'll say +that for you. There's your fish-pole and your can."</p> + +<p>Colonel Witham paused, and reluctantly put his hand in his trousers +pocket. With still greater reluctance, he drew forth a twenty-five cent +piece and tendered it to the boy.</p> + +<p>"Here," he said, "it's a lot of money, but I won't say as you haven't +earned it."</p> + +<p>To Colonel Witham's astonishment, however, the boy shook his head.</p> + +<p>"I don't want any money," he said. "I wouldn't take it for that."</p> + +<p>Another moment, he had slipped into shoes and stockings, snatched up his +pole and can, and was walking quickly down the road.</p> + +<p>Little Tim had a conscience.</p> + +<p>"Well, if that don't beat me!" exclaimed the amazed Colonel Witham, as +he stood staring at the boy. "Who'd ever have thought it?"</p> + +<p>But soon a great light dawned upon him.</p> + +<p>"Aha!" he exclaimed. "The little rascal! He stuck it up there, or my +name's not Witham. That's why he wouldn't take the money for getting it +down. Reckon I ought to have given him a taste of that stick, instead of +offering him a quarter."</p> + +<p>But even Colonel Witham, when he came to think upon it, knew deep down +in his heart that he had a sort of admiration for Little Tim.</p> + +<p>In the meantime, Henry Burns, turning over in his mind the secret that +had been partly revealed to him, through the words of Grannie Thornton, +could not make up his mind just what to do about it. He had almost +decided to entrust what he knew to Lawyer Estes, for him to unravel, +when the lawyer was called out of town for several weeks, on an +important case. Again, another event intervened to cause delay. Miss +Matilda Burns made a visit to her home in Massachusetts, and took Henry +Burns with her; and it was well into November, close upon Thanksgiving, +in fact, when they returned to Benton. By this time early winter had set +in, and some heavy snow falls had buried all the country around and +about Benton deep under drifts.</p> + +<p>"You're just in time," said Harvey, as he and Tom Harris greeted Henry +Burns on the latter's return. "We've got a week's holiday, and look what +I've made for us."</p> + +<p>Harvey proudly displayed a big toboggan, some seven feet in length, in +the making of which he had expended the surplus time and energy of the +last two weeks. "No easy job steaming those ends and making 'em curl up +together even," he added; "but she'll go some. Say, you ought to see the +slide we've got, down the mountain above Ellison's. Well go up this +afternoon, if you like."</p> + +<p>They were up there, all of them, early in the afternoon, George and +Young Joe Warren driving one of the Warren horses hitched to a sleigh, +and drawing a string of toboggans after. Blanketing the horse some +distance above the Ellison dam, they proceeded up the surface of the +frozen stream to the slide.</p> + +<p>It was, as Henry Burns said, enough to make the hair on one's fur cap +stand on end, to look at it. From the summit of what might almost be +termed a small mountain—certainly, a tremendous hill—to the base, down +a precipitous incline, the boys had constructed a chute, by banking the +snow on either side. This chute led down on to the frozen stream, where +a similar chute had been formed for a half-mile or more down stream.</p> + +<p>Moreover, a temporary thaw, with a fall of sleet, had coated the bed of +the chute with a glassy surface, like polished steel, or glare ice. +Henry Burns, standing beside the slide, half-way up the mountain, saw a +toboggan with four youths dash down the steep incline, presently. Little +Tim sat in front, yelling like an Indian at a war-dance. They fairly +took Henry Burns's breath away as they shot past him. He looked at +Harvey and shrugged his shoulders.</p> + +<p>"Guess that's pretty near as exciting as cruising in Samoset bay, isn't +it?" he remarked. "Well, you hold the tiller, Jack, and I'm game; though +it's new sport to me. I never spent a winter in Maine before."</p> + +<p>"Oh, there isn't much steering to do here," replied Harvey; "you only +have to keep her in the chute, and not let her get to swerving. It's +easy. You'll like it."</p> + +<p>It certainly did seem a risky undertaking, to a novice, standing at the +very summit of the mountain and looking along down the icy plunge of the +chute, far below to the stream. It took all of Henry Burns's nerve, to +seat himself at the front end of the toboggan, while Jack Harvey gave a +shove off. For the first moment, it was almost like falling off a +steeple. Then he caught the exhilaration of the sport, as the toboggan +gathered speed and shot down the incline at lightning speed.</p> + +<p>Henry Burns had hardly time to gather his thoughts, and to glory in the +excitement, when they were at the foot of the descent, and gliding +swiftly along the surface of the stream.</p> + +<p>"My, but that's great!" he exclaimed. "It's next to sailing, if it isn't +as good. Come on, let's try it again."</p> + +<p>The mountain was admirably situated for such a sport; for it rose up +from the shore where the stream made a sharp bend in its course, forming +a promontory that overlooked the surrounding land. Thus the chute, +after leaving the base of it, continued in a straight line down stream.</p> + +<p>The sport, thrilling as it was, however, grew tame for Young Joe. He +wanted something different. He had brought along, also, a steel-shod +sled, known to the boys as a "pointer," because its forward ends ran out +to sharp points, protected by the turning up of the steel runners. He +declared himself ready to make the descent on that.</p> + +<p>"Don't be a fool, Joe," remonstrated his elder brother; "you can't +handle that here. You'll go so fast you can't steer it."</p> + +<p>If Young Joe had had any misgivings and doubts upon the matter before, +however, this remonstrance settled them. A little opposition was all +that was needed to set him off. Modestly calling the attention of all +the others to the fact that he was about to attempt a feat never before +tried, Young Joe lay at full length upon the sled and pushed off.</p> + +<p>Certainly, never before had any object shot down the mountain side at +the speed Young Joe was travelling. Fortunately for him, the sides of +the chute were sufficiently high to keep the sled within bounds, and on +its course. The sled made the descent in safety and darted out across +the surface of the stream, still within the chute. Then something +unexpected happened.</p> + +<p>The chute had been designed for toboggans, and continued only as far as +the fastest one of them would travel. Watching Young Joe's daring feat, +the boys saw him make the descent and speed along the level, until he +reached the spot where the toboggans usually stopped. And there, also, +Young Joe's sled did stop, its sharp points digging into the crust and +sticking fast.</p> + +<p>But not Young Joe. Like an arrow fired from a crossbow, he left the sled +and continued on over the icy surface of the crust downstream. It was a +smooth, glare surface, and he slid as though it were greased. Far down +stream, they saw him finally come to a stop—the most astonished youth +that ever slid down a hill. He ended in a little drift of snow blown +against a projecting log, and arose, sputtering.</p> + +<p>Strangely enough, thanks to thick mittens, and a cap drawn down to cover +his face, he was not even scratched. He picked himself up, looked about +him, dazed for a moment, and then walked slowly back.</p> + +<p>And after all, the upshot of Young Joe's experiment was, that sleds +became popular on the chute, and almost came to exclude the toboggan; +only the boys continued the chute for fully a mile down stream, +shovelling away to the glare ice. Young Joe had introduced a new and +more exciting form of sport.</p> + +<p>The next two days afforded rare enjoyment, for the slide was at its +best, and the weather clear and bracing. But the afternoon of the third +day was not so propitious. It began to grow cloudy at midday, and some +light flakes of snow fell, as they ate their luncheon and drank their +coffee, beside a fire of spruce and birch at the summit of the +mountain, near the head of the slide.</p> + +<p>They continued till about five in the afternoon, however, when the snow +began falling steadily, and they took their last slide. A party of three +of them, Harvey and Henry Burns and George Warren, had proceeded nearly +to the Ellison dam, on their way to Benton, when Henry Burns suddenly +stopped, with an exclamation of annoyance.</p> + +<p>"I've got to go back," he said; "I've left my buckskin gloves and Tom's +hatchet up by the fire."</p> + +<p>"Oh, let 'em go till to-morrow," said Harvey, who was feeling hungry.</p> + +<p>"No, it won't do," replied Henry Burns, looking back wearily to where +the faint smoke of the day's fire still showed through the light +snow-fall. "You fellows needn't wait, though. Keep on, and perhaps I'll +catch up."</p> + +<p>He started back, plodding slowly, for he was tired with the frequent +climbing of the mountain throughout the day. The others, thinking of the +supper awaiting them, continued on the way home.</p> + +<p>It was a little more than a mile that Henry Burns had to go; and, by the +time he was half-way there, it was snowing hard. The storm had increased +perceptibly; and, moreover, the wind was rising, and it blew the snow +into his eyes so that he could hardly see. He kept on stubbornly, +however.</p> + +<p>Presently, there came a gust that reminded him of a quick squall on the +water. It seemed to gather a cloud of the driving snow and fairly bury +him under it. He staggered for a moment and stood still, holding his +hands to his face for protection.</p> + +<p>"That's a three-reef blow, all right," he muttered, and went on again, +finally beginning the ascent of the mountain. But there he found himself +suddenly assailed by a succession of gusts that made it impossible to +try to climb. Moreover, the air was rapidly becoming so thick with snow +that he saw he was in danger of being lost.</p> + +<p>He made up his mind quickly, realizing the danger he was in, and started +back down stream. He must gain shelter soon, or he would be unable to +find his way. He was not any too hasty in his decision. In a few minutes +the outlines of the stream and its banks were blended into a blurred +white mass. Then he could no longer see the shore at any distance, and +even the path was being blotted out.</p> + +<p>He found, too, it was with difficulty that he could breathe, for the +incessant flying of the snow into his nostrils. Estimating, as best he +could, where the Half Way House must lie, he struck off from the stream +and headed for that. He stumbled on blindly, till his progress was +suddenly arrested by his bumping into an object that proved, most +fortunately, to be Colonel Witham's flag-pole. Even at that short +distance, the inn was now hidden; but he knew where it must be, and +presently stood safe upon its piazza.</p> + +<p>It was an odd situation for Henry Burns. Once before, had Colonel Witham +refused him shelter under this roof, and that, too, in a storm. But he +knew there was no help for it now. He had got to enter—and he had got +to stay. No human being could go on to-night. He hesitated only for a +moment, and then opened the door and stepped within.</p> + +<p>The office was vacant, and the air was chilly. The remains of a wood +fire smouldered, rather than burned, in the fireplace. There was no lamp +lighted, although it was quite dark, with the storm and approaching +evening. The place seemed deserted.</p> + +<p>Henry Burns stepped to the desk, took a match from a box and lighted the +lamp that hung there. It cast a dismal glow, and added little to the +cheer of the place, although it enabled him to distinguish objects +better. He turned to the hearth, raked the embers together, blew up a +tiny blaze and replenished the fire from the wood-box. He threw off his +outer garments, and drew a chair toward the blaze.</p> + +<p>But now, from an adjoining room, the door of which was slightly ajar, +there came unexpectedly a thin, querulous voice that startled him. He +recognized, the next moment, the tones of old Granny Thornton.</p> + +<p>"Is that you, Dan?" she asked.</p> + +<p>Henry Burns opened the door and answered. She seemed afraid, until he +had told her who he was, begging him to go away from the place and not +harm a poor, lone woman. But she recognized him, when he had spoken +again, and had lighted another lamp and held it for her to look at him.</p> + +<p>She sat in an arm-chair, in which she had been evidently sleeping, +propped up with pillows; and looked ill and feeble.</p> + +<p>"I'm cold," she said, and shivered.</p> + +<p>Henry Burns dragged her chair out into the office, by the fire, while +she clung to the arms of it, as though in terror of tumbling out on to +the floor. And, in that brief journey from room to room, it flashed over +Henry Burns that the time and opportunity had come for him to know the +secret she possessed.</p> + +<p>"Dan won't like to find you here," she muttered. "He ought to be +here—leaving me all alone. My, how it blows! How'd you get here, +anyway? Don't mind what Dan says; you'll have to stay."</p> + +<p>"He'll not be here to-night, with this storm keeping up," answered Henry +Burns, "Where is he?"</p> + +<p>"He went to town with Bess," said she. "Why don't she come? I'm lonesome +without her. I'm hungry, too. She ought to make me a cup of tea."</p> + +<p>"I'll make it," said Henry Burns; "and I'll get something for myself, +too. I'll pay for it, so Witham won't lose by it."</p> + +<p>He made his way to the kitchen and the pantry; lighted a fire in the +kitchen stove, and made tea for himself and Granny Thornton; and toasted +some bread for her. Then he foraged for himself and ate a hearty meal, +for he was ravenously hungry. And, all the while, he was thinking what +he should do and say to the old woman, nodding in the chair out in the +office.</p> + +<p>He returned there, and put more wood on the fire, so that it blazed up +brightly, and the sparks shot up the flue with a roar. The roar was more +than answered by the wind outside. It rattled the glass in the windows, +and dashed the snow against them as though it would break them in. It +found a hundred cracks and crevices about the old inn, to moan and +shriek through, and blew a thin film of snow under the door.</p> + +<p>Old Granny Thornton shook and quivered, as some of the sharper blasts +cried about the corners of the house. She seemed frightened; and once +she spoke up in a half whisper, and asked Henry Burns if he believed +there were ever spirits out on such a night as this. He would have +laughed away her fears, under ordinary circumstances; but it suited his +purpose better now to shake his head, and answer, truthfully enough, +that he didn't know.</p> + +<p>Presently, the old woman started up in her chair and stared anxiously at +one of the snow-covered windows.</p> + +<p>"They might be lost!" she cried, hoarsely. "They could be lost to-night +in this storm, like folks were in the great blizzard twenty years ago. +Oh, Bess"—she uttered the girl's name with a sob—"I hope you're safe. +You'd die in this snow. Say, boy, do you suppose they've got shelter? +It's not Dan Witham I care for, whether he's dead or not, but Little +Bess."</p> + +<p>Henry Burns stepped in front of the old woman, and looked into her eyes.</p> + +<p>"What do you care whether Bess is lost or not?" he asked. "She don't +belong to you. She's not yours. You're not her grandmother."</p> + +<p>At the words, so quick and unexpected, Granny Thornton shrank back as +though she had received a blow. Her eyes rolled in her head, and she +seemed to be trying to reply; but the words would not come. She gasped +and choked, and clutched at her throat with her shrunken hands.</p> + +<p>Henry Burns spoke again, grasping one of her hands, and compelling her +to listen.</p> + +<p>"Somebody else wants her home more than you do," he said. "Why don't you +give her back? She's too smart and bright to go to the poorhouse, when +you die. Why do you keep her here?"</p> + +<p>He spoke at random, knowing not whether he was near the secret or not, +but determined that he would make her speak out.</p> + +<p>But she sank down in her chair, huddled into an almost shapeless, +half-lifeless heap. Her head was buried in her hands. She rocked feebly +to and fro. Once she roused herself a bit, and strove to ask a question, +but seemed to be overcome with weakness. Henry Burns thought he divined +what she would ask, and answered.</p> + +<p>"I know it's so," he said. "You can't hide it any longer. I've found it +out."</p> + +<p>It seemed as though she would not speak again. The minutes went by, +ticked off in clamorous sound, by a big clock on the wall. Granny +Thornton still crouched all in a heap in her chair, moaning to herself. +Henry Burns remained silent and waited.</p> + +<p>Then when, all at once, the old woman brought herself upright, with a +jerk, and spoke to him, the sound of her voice amazed him. It was not +unlike the tone in which she had answered Colonel Witham, the night +Henry Burns overheard her. It was shrill and sharp, though with a +whining intonation. What she said was most unexpected.</p> + +<p>"Have you been to school?" she queried.</p> + +<p>Henry Burns stared hard. He thought her mind wandering. But she +continued.</p> + +<p>"Don't stare that way—haven't you any wit? Can you write? Hurry—I'm +afeared Dan will be here."</p> + +<p>Henry Burns understood, in a flash. He sprang to the desk, got the pen +and ink there and a block of coarse paper, the top sheet of which had +some figuring on it. He returned to the old woman's side and sat down, +with the paper on his knees. She stared at him blankly for a few +moments—then said abruptly:</p> + +<p>"Write it down just as I tell you. I'm going to die soon—Don't stare +like that—write it down. Dan Witham can't harm me then, and I'm going +to tell. Her name isn't Bess Thornton—it's Bess Ellison."</p> + +<p>Henry Burns's hand almost refused to write. But he controlled himself, +and followed her.</p> + +<p>"Dan shan't have her," she continued. "I'll give her up, first. Twelve +years ago last June she was born. And she weren't as pretty as my girl's +baby, that was born the same day—though they looked alike, too.</p> + +<p>"My girl's name was Elizabeth, but she's dead. She was a sight prettier +than Lizzie Anderson that married Jim Ellison. But my girl married Tom +Howland, and he ran away and left her, and that just before the baby was +born. And her baby, Elizabeth Howland, was born the same day, I tell +you, as Lizzie Ellison's baby. That one was named Elizabeth, +too—Elizabeth Ellison. That's Bess.</p> + +<p>"And when the two babies were born, why we were poor and Jim Ellison was +well-to-do. The Thorntons got in debt, and he bought up the mortgages. +And when Bess Ellison was born, her mother was so ill she didn't see the +baby for many weeks; and my girl went up to the house in about three +weeks to nurse both babies, we being poor. And I went up, too, to look +after things.</p> + +<p>"I guess my girl was wild, too, though I won't blame her now. One day +she went to town and didn't come back; and she left me a note, saying +she wouldn't ever come back, anyway. And I could bring up the +baby—which I didn't like to do, because I'd brought up one, and now +she'd run away.</p> + +<p>"So I was getting ready to go back to the house and take the baby with +me; and I took care of both babies for a day or two. And just as I was +planning to go back, there lay the two, side by side in the bed; and I +could hardly tell which was which—they looked so much alike.</p> + +<p>"Then what put it into my head, I don't know. But I thought that, if I +changed the two, nobody'd know, because Bess Ellison's mother hadn't +seen her. And I thought of how the property would come back to the +Thorntons that way, if I put my girl's Bess in the other's place. And I +up and did it, quick.</p> + +<p>"Then, when I got home with Lizzie Ellison's baby, why I found I'd been +so hasty I'd brought away a chain and bit of money, that they'd put +about her neck. It was an old coin that had been in the family for +years, and was thought to carry good luck—so I learned afterwards. I +meant to take it back, but I couldn't, right away, and then I lost the +coin. Oh, how I hunted for it! But I never could find it.</p> + +<p>"Now are you putting it all down? Be quick, or Dan might come in. It was +all for nothing—what I did—for my girl's baby died two years later. +Let me look what you've got there. I know school-writing. I went to +school once. Give me the pen. I'll put my name down to that. Hold my +hand, so it won't shake. That's my name. It don't look like much, I +guess. But that's it."</p> + +<p>Tremblingly, the old woman took the pen and, guided by Henry Burns, +subscribed her name to what he had written. Then she spoke again:</p> + +<p>"Go into that bed-room and look in the top drawer. There's a key there. +That's the key to the old house."</p> + +<p>Henry Burns followed her instructions, and brought forth the key. She +bade him keep it, and go the next day and get the stuff in the attic: +the chain, minus its locket; the little dress, and a pair of shoes. She +mourned the loss of the coin, lest her strange story might not be +believed by Mrs. Ellison, without that evidence—not knowing that the +coin had even now come into Mrs. Ellison's own hands.</p> + +<p>She sank into a doze not long after; and Henry Burns also slept, on a +couch in the office, with a buffalo robe over him. He woke early next +day, waded through the drifts to the old house, and got the things from +the drawer. Then he went down the road.</p> + +<p>Below the old mill, near the road that ran up to the Ellison farm, a +horse and sledge came in sight, travelling slowly. Henry Burns's pulse +beat quicker as he recognized Colonel Witham and Bess coming up from +Benton, where they had passed the night. Colonel Witham scowled upon +him, but the girl smiled.</p> + +<p>"Hello," she said. "Isn't everything pretty, all covered with snow? +Where'd you come from so early?"</p> + +<p>Henry Burns could hardly answer her. He faced Colonel Witham.</p> + +<p>"Granny Thornton's got an errand up at the Ellisons' for Bess," he said. +"I just came from the inn, I left the money for my lodging, too. Mrs. +Ellison wants to see Bess."</p> + +<p>Colonel Witham grumbled. "I won't wait for her," he said. "She'll have +to foot it up through the snow."</p> + +<p>"I don't care," exclaimed the girl, and sprang lightly out.</p> + +<p>Henry Burns never did remember what was said on that walk up to the +farm. His mind was taken up with one subject. He had a vague +remembrance, after it was all over, of knocking at the door, and of +their being both admitted; of his almost ignoring the greeting of the +brothers; of his finding himself and Bess somehow in the parlour with +Mrs. Ellison.</p> + +<p>He remembered, afterward, of handing the writing he had done, at old +Granny Thornton's bidding, to Mrs. Ellison, and of her starting to read +it and breaking down suddenly; of her asking him many questions about +it, and of his answering them almost in a daze. He remembered that Mrs. +Ellison resumed the reading, the tears streaming down her cheeks; of how +he laid down the little bundle of stuff he had brought from the attic, +and pointed it out to Mrs. Ellison.</p> + +<p>He remembered that Mrs. Ellison sprang up and seized the child in her +arms—and just about that time Henry Burns stole out and left the two +together; so that he never did know just what happened next.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIX" id="CHAPTER_XIX"></a>CHAPTER XIX</h2> + +<h3>THE MYSTERY OF THE MILL</h3> + + +<p>Henry Burns, slipping quietly away from the farmhouse on the hill, +tramped joyously through the snowdrifts to the highway, "caught a ride" +on a sledge going in to Benton and started homeward. He had not ridden +far, however, when a double-seated sleigh appeared in sight, which +seemed even at a distance to be familiar. It became more so when, at +length, he made out clearly a white horse belonging to Tom Harris's +father, and, occupying the two seats, his friends Tom and Bob, Jack +Harvey and George Warren.</p> + +<p>Perhaps they didn't give three cheers and a tiger when they espied Henry +Burns! Jack Harvey and George Warren, struggling down the road through +the storm of the afternoon before, had worried not a little about him, +and would have gone back to his aid, if they could have done so. But the +wind and snow had been too fierce; and they could only plod on, hoping +that his usual luck and cleverness would not desert him, and that he +would gain shelter in time.</p> + +<p>They seized Henry Burns now and tumbled him into the sleigh, in rough +and hearty fashion; and they turned about and drove back to Benton at +the very best pace that the big horse could make through the snow. Henry +Burns told the story of the night, as they proceeded.</p> + +<p>"Say, that's like a story out of the library," remarked George Warren. +"Just think of it! Little Bess a sister of the Ellison fellows. What did +they say, Henry, when you told them?"</p> + +<p>"Nothing," replied Henry Burns. "I didn't give 'em a chance. I got out +quick."</p> + +<p>"Well, I'm mighty glad for her," exclaimed Jack Harvey, heartily. "She's +the pluckiest little thing I ever saw. I'm glad she's got a good home at +last."</p> + +<p>It was some time before Henry Burns spoke again. He seemed to be +considering something soberly. Finally he said, "Yes, and they need the +mill now, more than ever, with her to care for. I wonder if they'll ever +get it."</p> + +<p>The mill passed out of mind, however, for some time, when there fell +still another great snow on the following day, heavier than the +preceding storm. It piled drift upon drift, and made the roads about +Benton, for miles in every direction, impassible. It shut each farmhouse +in upon itself; the Ellisons in their home; Colonel Witham and Granny +Thornton alone in the Half Way House. The old mill was silent for a +whole week.</p> + +<p>Then there came a magazine to Tom Harris, bringing a timely suggestion +to the boys of Benton. It told of the snowshoe of the Norwegians, the +ski, with which a runner could travel through the deep drifts of loose +snow, and coast down the steep hills, as easily as on a toboggan. Soon, +working in spare hours, each youth had fashioned himself a pair. They +got the long, thin strips of hard wood, steamed the ends and curled them +like sled runners, sand-papered and polished them, and put on the straps +of leather to hold the toe.</p> + +<p>They learned how to go through the drifts with these, sliding the shoe +along through the loose snow, instead of lifting the foot, as with the +Canadian snowshoe. They got each a long pole, to steady one's self with, +and practised sliding down the terraces of Tom Harris's garden, standing +erect and doing their best to keep on their feet.</p> + +<p>When they had had their preliminary tumbles, and were proficient in the +sport, they started off one day and went along up stream; tried the +steep banks that led down on to that, and found it more exciting than +tobogganning.</p> + +<p>Tim Reardon used his skis to get up above the dams, where the +spring-holes in the stream were. And, through the Christmas holidays, he +made his headquarters at the cabin that belonged to the canoeists, which +he kept hot by a rousing fire. Day after day, he set out from there, +skiing his way up stream, dragging after him a toboggan on which was +loaded a pail half filled with water. In this swam his live bait, +winnows that he had caught through the ice in the brook. Also he carried +an axe, a borrowed ice chisel, some lines and other stuff.</p> + +<p>One might have seen him there, through the afternoons, watching sharply +the five lines that he tended, and varying the monotony of waiting by an +occasional ski slide down the neighbouring bank.</p> + +<p>He had five holes chopped through the ice, and a line set in each, +baited with a live minnow. This line was attached to a strong, limber +switch of birch, set up slant-wise over the hole, with the butt stuck +fast in a hole chopped in the ice and banked with snow. And this switch +flew a little streamer of coloured calico; so that Tim had only to see +the streamer bobbing up and down, at any distance, to know that there +was a pickerel fast on the hook.</p> + +<p>He had famous sport there for ten days or more, for the fish were +hungry, and bigger ones came to the bait than in summer. Every third day +he went back in to Benton with his catch, which he had kept packed in +snow, sold them at the market, and was fairly rolling in wealth; and +when, one afternoon, he hooked and landed an eight-pound fish, and +travelled to town with it, and saw it set up in the market, with a sign +on it to the effect that it had been caught by Timothy Reardon of +Benton, he was the proudest boy to be found anywhere.</p> + +<p>Then, just following Christmas, there was a glorious dinner up at the +Ellison farm for Henry Burns and his friends, in honour of Little Bess. +Tim got an invitation to that, too, through his loyal friends, Henry +Burns and Jack Harvey; and he and Joe Warren ate more than any four +others, and Young Joe, who had absconded with the most of a huge mince +pie, left over from the dinner, was found afterward groaning on the +kitchen sofa, and had to be dosed with ginger and peppermint, so that he +could partake of cornballs and maple candy later on.</p> + +<p>And there was Bess Ellison—Bess Thornton no longer—looking remarkably +pretty and uncommonly mischievous, dressed no more in dingy gingham, but +in the best Mrs. Ellison could buy and make up for her; and she held out +her hand to Henry Burns and took him in to Mrs. Ellison, who said +something to him that made him come very near blushing, and nearly lose +his customary self-control.</p> + +<p>There was Benny Ellison, also, who was dragged in by Bess, and made to +shake hands with Henry Burns, and call old scores off; so that even he +warmed into enthusiasm, and enjoyed himself with the others.</p> + +<p>Then, somewhere about that time, there was a lawyer's visit to the Half +Way House, where there were certain papers drawn up, and signed by +Granny Thornton, with a trembling hand; which made it sure that Little +Bess would no more be uncertain of her home and her parentage, but would +remain where she belonged, up at the big farmhouse.</p> + +<p>So the winter passed and the spring came in. Its days of thaw made the +old stream groan and crack, as the great ice fields split here and +there, and seams opened. There were nights when the water, that had +overflowed at the edge of the ice fields, close by the shore, and +formed a narrow stream on either side, froze fast again; so that there +was a glare thoroughfare for miles and miles up the stream into the +country, of ice just thick enough to bear the boys of Benton.</p> + +<p>They made excursions far up along shore this way, skating at furious +speed; pausing now and then to set fire to the bunches of tall dried +grasses and reeds, that protruded through the ice in the midst of the +stream. These flamed fiercely at the mere touch of a match.</p> + +<p>Then, as it grew later, this overflow at the edges of the ice field +froze no more; but lay, several feet deep of clear water, over that part +of the ice. They could get on to the stream then only at certain points, +where the ledges made out, or by throwing planks across. Soon the water +began to pour with a louder and louder roar over the old Ellison dam, +and a stretch of clear, swift-flowing water opened up for some distance +back of it.</p> + +<p>It became rare and dangerous sport, in these days, to get out on the ice +field and work at a seam with planks and poles, prying loose a great +sheet of the still thick ice, and watch it go over the dam. It had a +most spectacular and awe-inspiring way of making the plunge. A great +block of the ice, several yards square, would drift swiftly down, shoot +far over the edge, then break apart of its own weight, the huge chunks +falling with a mighty splash and commotion into the boiling pool below. +Down they would go, like monsters of the sea, borne by the momentum of +their plunge from the height. Then they would shoot upward, lift +themselves out with a dull roar amid the seething mass of water and +smaller ice, rise above the surface, fall again, and, caught in the +embrace of the swift current, go tossing and crunching down toward +Benton.</p> + +<p>Little Tim's sheer delight in this sport exceeded that of all others. He +displayed a recklessness that brought upon him the assertion by Jack +Harvey that he was "a double-dyed little idiot;" and Henry Burns gave +him solemn warning that some day he would go over the dam, if he didn't +stop taking chances. But they couldn't check Tim's ardour. He was the +hardest worker, with ice-chisel or pole, and the last to leave a sheet +of ice that had broken loose and started down stream. For, not always +did the ice sever at the point where they were working, but sometimes +above them; so that a sharp watch had to be kept against the danger of +being caught on an ice patch, and carried along with it.</p> + +<p>Then, through the days of working thus at the field, and by the natural +wearing away with the spring thaw, the water gained its freedom more and +more; so that there was now a quarter of a mile of black open water +between the dam and the edge of the ice.</p> + +<p>There came, then, a memorable afternoon, which had been preceded by a +day of rain, loosening up the bands of winter far and wide, raising the +water in the stream by the inrush of countless little brooks all along +its course; whereby the whole ice jam, and in some places, fields of +logs that had been stored shingle-fashion for the winter, creaked and +groaned and snapped, and the whole valley of the stream was filled with +the noise of the dissolution. Farmers and mill men eyed the scene with +some apprehension, and talked of freshet. Tim Reardon eyed it with +delight, forecasting days of warmth and fishing in store.</p> + +<p>The boys from Benton were upon the stream, that afternoon, though they +knew, deep in their hearts, they had no business there; that it was +dangerous; that the whole ice field was shaky. They worked at the ice +with might and main, and cheered lustily when some great cake went +tumbling over the dam.</p> + +<p>Then, of a sudden, there came a cry, that started somewhere on shore, +ran all along the banks of the stream and came down to the boys at their +play—a cry of alarm and warning. They looked about quickly. What was +the danger? Persons on shore were pointing far up stream. The next +instant, they discerned the whole great ice field, as far as they could +see, in motion; crumbling about the shores and heaving up into hummocks +here and there. Then they felt the ice beneath their feet moving. The +deliverance of the stream from winter was at hand. The ice was going +out.</p> + +<p>The wild scramble for shore was a thing not to be forgotten. Some of the +boys had travelled away up beyond the vicinity of the dam, where the +logs were stored within a boom. It was perilous footing across these, +for the few moments that it took to regain the shore. The water opened +here and there, in which the logs churned and slipped dangerously.</p> + +<p>It was every one for himself, then, and lucky to gain the bank without +bruises, or a ducking—or worse. It was all so sudden, so terrifying, so +confusing, that no one paused to see who else was in danger.</p> + +<p>But when Henry Burns and Jack Harvey and George Warren, Tom and Bob and +John Ellison had gained the shore, a cry came in that turned them. Away +over toward the other shore, they espied Little Tim and Bess Ellison +scrambling desperately. Where the girl had come from, they did not +know—only that she was there now, and in peril.</p> + +<p>There was no hope of their regaining the farther shore. Already the ice +had opened up to such an extent that a great gap of running water lay +between the two and that bank. Would they be able to make the flight +across?</p> + +<p>A cry of horror went up from shore now; for, even as the boy and girl +seemed to be nearing safety, a part of the field on which they stood +separated from the rest, and began its journey down stream. But, with +this, there was added to the dread and dismay of those who gazed the +fact that the sheet of ice held two more captives. Henry Burns and +Harvey had rushed across the ice to the rescue, only in time to be +trapped with Tim and Bess.</p> + +<p>They could all swim, but the attempt must have been fatal. The open +water that now lay between them and the shore was filled with small +blocks of ice, ground by the larger masses. One could not make headway +through that. Was there any chance? Little Tim saw one.</p> + +<p>Grasping Harvey by an arm, he pointed to a seam in the ice. "Chop there, +Jack!" he cried. "Here, Henry, take my ice-chisel; you're stronger than +I am. If we can cut loose, perhaps we can work in shore on the small +piece."</p> + +<p>They saw the chance—a desperate one—and took it. Holding in his hands +the chisel he had been working with, Harvey began chopping furiously at +the seam in the ice. Henry Burns, with Tim's chisel, did likewise. A few +moments' work sufficed. The section on which they stood, already half +broken away, yielded to the efforts of the two. It cracked, severed from +the larger part, teetered dangerously and drifted away. The four were +floating on a junk of ice that would just support them.</p> + +<p>The cry went up to get a rope; and John Ellison and George Warren darted +down along shore toward the mill. Using the blades of the heavy +long-handled chisels, as best they could, for paddles, Henry Burns and +Harvey strove to force the heavy block of ice toward shore. They +succeeded in a measure, but they were going steadily and surely down +stream.</p> + +<p>It seemed ages before John Ellison and George Warren emerged from the +mill. They had encountered Colonel Witham there, just as they had +gathered up a long coil of light rope. He, anxious for the fate of his +mill in the impending freshet, had not heard the cries farther up shore, +and knew nothing of what was going on. He darted after them, as he saw +them hurrying toward the door, demanding to know what they would do with +his rope. They had no time to explain. Colonel Witham found himself +shouldered out of the way, and sent spinning, by John Ellison; and when +he caught himself they were rods away.</p> + +<p>Standing now upon the shore, opposite the drifting cake, John Ellison +handed one end of the rope to George Warren. Taking the other end, he +separated the line into two coils, whirled one about his head and threw +it far out. It fell short, splashing into the water. He tried again, and +failed.</p> + + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<div class="figcenter"> +<a name="illus4" id="illus4"></a> +<img src="images/illus4.jpg" alt=""/> +</div> + +<h3>"HE SEPARATED THE LINE INTO TWO COILS, WHIRLED ONE ABOUT +HIS HEAD AND THREW IT FAR OUT."</h3> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + + +<p>The ice raft, with its four prisoners, was driving faster now, caught by +the swifter water. It was nearing the dam.</p> + +<p>"Let me try once," said George Warren, as they shifted their places +farther down shore, following the ice.</p> + +<p>He went at it more carefully; took time to arrange the coils so they +would run free through the air; gave a hard swing to the coil in his +right hand and let it fly. Henry Burns, reaching far forward to meet the +rope, was almost on the point of grasping it; but it seemed to recede as +it fell, losing force and splashing into the water a few feet away. The +next moment, Henry Burns was overboard, in the icy water, seizing the +end before it sank, upborne as it was by floating ice.</p> + +<p>He fought his way back, and Harvey and Tim dragged him to safety, +chilled, and his teeth chattering. Then the four grasped the rope and +held hard. George Warren, with a sailor's instinct, had found a stout +bush by the bank and taken a few turns of the rope about that.</p> + +<p>The cake of ice, arrested in its course, brought up, while the swift +running current overflowed it. The four were ankle deep in water. But +the rope held. Slowly, but surely, the ice raft yielded to the strain. +It came in, out of the rush of the current, into quieter water. It +touched the shore—and the yawning brink of the dam was only a few rods +away.</p> + +<p>They were ashore now and running for the mill, where there was a fire +that would warm them. They were half frozen, with the chilling of the +water and with the fright. Even Colonel Witham, mindful now of the +situation, was there to let them in and allow them the warmth of the +fire.</p> + +<p>"You're soaking wet," he said to Henry Burns. "There's some old clothes +that Jim Ellison left, hanging in that closet on the floor above. +They'll swallow you, but they're dry."</p> + +<p>Henry Burns darted up the stairs.</p> + +<p>As he did so, the stairs trembled and shook beneath his feet. The whole +mill seemed to be quivering on its foundations. At the same moment, a +cry went up from the outside that the dam had given way. The crowd +gathered on the bank saw a piece of the dam suddenly collapse, through +which aperture a mass of logs, grinding blocks of ice and debris from up +stream tore its way.</p> + +<p>Then screams came from the mill. Terrified, the crowd, gazing, saw one +side of it totter and sway. The sound of wrenching timbers, collapsing +frame-work and the twisting of iron filled the air.</p> + +<p>Henry Burns, clutching a window frame, saw the panorama of the stream in +tumult, of the shattered dam, and of the distant shore, suddenly open up +before his eyes, as a great mass of the mill, its foundations torn away, +sagged off and plunged into the waters. He, on the upper floor, and his +companions on the floor below, found themselves at once upon the brink +of the swift-running waters of the stream, saved, as by a miracle, by +the other half of the mill remaining firm.</p> + +<p>Looking now upon the wreck, Henry Burns espied a strange thing. Three +pair of the huge grinding stones had gone with the destruction of that +part of the mill. One pair alone remained, just before him. It was that +pair upon which, on one occasion, James Ellison had placed his foot, in +satisfaction, and remarked that all was safe; stones that had ground no +grist for years before James Ellison's death, but which had been +disconnected from the shafting.</p> + +<p>Now they were half upset, and one lay wrenched from the steel thread +that had held it down close to the lower one. Thus there was disclosed a +space cut in the lower stone, that held a small tin box, such as +merchants use for papers.</p> + +<p>Henry Burns stared, for one brief moment, in amazement. Then, crawling +cautiously over, he seized the box and darted back to the window. He +swung himself out on to a small roof that covered the door below; hung +from that for a moment, and dropped into a heap of snow that had been +shovelled into a pile there. At the same moment, the little party on the +lower floor rushed forth into safety.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>What they found in this box, a half-hour later, when it was opened +before all, in the Ellison dining-room, fairly took their breaths away; +fairly made the old house creak with the whoops that filled it; made +Mrs. Ellison weep a flood of joyous tears; nearly set John and James +Ellison clear out of their wits.</p> + +<p>The old mill—wrecked to be sure, but valuable still, and easily to be +restored, with the rebuilding of the dam—the old mill was theirs. There +was the deed from Colonel Witham back to James Ellison, to prove it. +There were the deeds to the lands—all theirs now; no longer Colonel +Witham's. And more, and greater still the surprise. The old inn, the +Half Way House, was not Colonel Witham's, at all. It had been James +Ellison's, and there were the papers to show that. It was theirs now, +and all the land for acres around it. They were no longer poor. James +Ellison's bank had been found at last. The old mill's secret had been +torn from hiding by the freshet.</p> + +<p>Some days later, following a protracted visit on the part of Lawyer +Estes to the Half Way House, there emerged from the doorway of the same, +at evening, a portly person that could not be mistaken. He brought out +the horse from the barn, harnessed it to a carriage, and drove away down +the road at a furious pace.</p> + +<p>The next day, Colonel Witham was missing from the inn and from Benton.</p> + +<p>"Have him arrested?" responded John Ellison, in answer to his brother's +query; "I don't care about that. He's gone, and good riddance. Hello, +there come Henry Burns and Jack Harvey. Let's all go down and take a +look at what's left of the mill."</p> + +<p>"Poor gran'," said Bess to Mrs. Ellison, half timidly, "what will become +of her now?"</p> + +<p>"We'll bring her up here, dear," said that motherly woman, "and take +care of her during the little life she has left. We can't leave her all +alone down there." And Bess danced gaily away to join the boys, her last +trouble gone and nothing but joy ahead.</p> + +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<hr class="full" /> +<p>***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE RIVAL CAMPERS ASHORE***</p> +<p>******* This file should be named 28504-h.txt or 28504-h.zip *******</p> +<p>This and all associated files of various formats will be found in:<br /> +<a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/2/8/5/0/28504">http://www.gutenberg.org/2/8/5/0/28504</a></p> +<p>Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed.</p> + +<p>Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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Gowing + + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + + + + +Title: The Rival Campers Ashore + The Mystery of the Mill + + +Author: Ruel Perley Smith + + + +Release Date: April 5, 2009 [eBook #28504] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-646-US (US-ASCII) + + +***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE RIVAL CAMPERS ASHORE*** + + +E-text prepared by Juliet Sutherland, Mary Meehan, and the Project +Gutenberg Online Distributed Proofreading Team (https://www.pgdp.net) + + + +Note: Project Gutenberg also has an HTML version of this + file which includes the original illustrations. + See 28504-h.htm or 28504-h.zip: + (https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/2/8/5/0/28504/28504-h/28504-h.htm) + or + (https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/2/8/5/0/28504/28504-h.zip) + + + + + +THE RIVAL CAMPERS ASHORE + +Or, The Mystery of the Mill + +by + +RUEL PERLEY SMITH + +Author of "The Rival Campers Series," "Prisoners of Fortune," etc. + +Illustrated by Louis D. Gowing + + + + + + + +Boston +The Page Company +Publishers + +Copyright, 1907 +by The Page Company + +Entered at Stationers' Hall, London + +All rights reserved + +Made in U. S. A. + +New Edition, May, 1925 + +The Colonial Press + +C. H. Simonds Co., Boston, U. S. A. + + + + +[Illustration: "HE HANDED THE PACKAGE TO COLONEL WITHAM."] + + + + +CONTENTS + + I. AN INLAND VOYAGE + + II. TURNED ADRIFT + + III. THE OLD MILL + + IV. THE TROUT POOL + + V. SOME CAUSES OF TROUBLE + + VI. CAPTURING AN INDIAN + + VII. A LONG RACE BEGUN + + VIII. CONQUERING THE RAPIDS + + IX. AN EXCITING FINISH + + X. HENRY BURNS MAKES A GIFT + + XI. COL. WITHAM GETS THE MILL + + XII. THE GOLDEN COIN + + XIII. A SAILING ADVENTURE + + XIV. THE FORTUNE-TELLER + + XV. A HUNT THROUGH THE MILL + + XVI. THE GOLDEN COIN LOST AGAIN + + XVII. A STRANGE ADMISSION + + XVIII. GRANNY THORNTON'S SECRET + + XIX. THE MYSTERY OF THE MILL + + + + +LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS + + +"HE HANDED THE PACKAGE TO COLONEL WITHAM" + +"AT THE SOUND OF THE MAN'S VOICE, HENRY BURNS AND JACK HARVEY HAD SPRUNG +UP IN AMAZEMENT" + +"THE WATCHERS ASHORE SAW THE CANOE SLOWLY TURN AND FACE THE SWIFT +CURRENT" + +"HE SEPARATED THE LINE INTO TWO COILS, WHIRLED ONE ABOUT HIS HEAD AND +THREW IT FAR OUT" + + + + +THE RIVAL CAMPERS ASHORE + + + + +CHAPTER I + +AN INLAND VOYAGE + + +The morning train from Benton, rumbling and puffing along its way +through outlying farmland, and sending its billows of smoke like sea +rollers across the pastures, drew up, ten miles from the city, at a +little station that overlooked a pond, lying clear and sparkling at the +base of some low, wooded hills. An old-fashioned, weather-beaten house, +adjacent the station, and displaying a sign-board bearing the one word, +"Spencer's," indicated that Spencer, whoever he might prove to be, would +probably extend the hospitality of his place to travellers. Here and +there, widely scattered across the fields, were a few farmhouses. + +The locomotive, having announced its approach by a mingled clanging and +whistling that sent startled cattle galloping for the shelter of the +thickets, came to a dead stop at the station; but, as though to show +its realization of the insignificance of Spencer's, continued to snort +and throb impatiently. Certain important-appearing trainmen, with +sleeves rolled to the elbows, hastily throwing open the door of the +baggage-car, seemed to take the hint. + +Presently a trunk, turning a summersault through the air, landed, +somewhat damaged, on the platform. A few boxes and packages followed +likewise, similarly ejected. Then, through the open doorway, there +appeared the shapely, graceful bow of a canoe. Whatever treatment this +might have received, left to the tender mercies of the trainmen, can +only be imagined; for at this moment two youths, who had descended from +one of the passenger coaches, came running along the platform. + +"Hold on, there," said the larger of the two, addressing a man who stood +with arms upreached to catch the end of the canoe, "let me get hold with +you. We don't want to be wrecked before we start,--eh, Henry?" + +"Hope not," responded his companion, quietly taking the bow of the +canoe, which the larger youth relinquished to him, while the latter +stepped to the car door and put a stalwart shoulder and arm under the +stern, passed to him by a man inside. + +Together, the two boys deposited their craft gently on a patch of grass +near-by; the locomotive puffed away from Spencer's, dragging its train; +the station agent resumed his interrupted pipe. Soon the only sounds +that broke the stillness of the place were the clickings of a single +telegraph instrument in the station and the scoffing voices of a few +crows, circling about the tops of some pine trees that overlooked the +farmhouse. + +The prospect that met the eyes of the boys was most enticing. On one +hand lay the little pond, reflecting some great patches of cloud that +flecked the sky. All about them, as far as eye could discern, stretched +the country, rolling and irregular, meadow and pasture, corn and wheat +land, and groves of maple, pine and birch. + +Flowing into the pond, a thin, shadowy stream wound its way through +alders and rushes, coming down along past Spencer's, invitingly from the +fields and hills. It was the principal inlet of the pond, flowing hence +from another and larger pond some miles to the westward. + +"Well, Henry, what do you say?" said the larger boy. "Looks great, +doesn't it?" + +"Ripping, Jack!" exclaimed the other. "I feel like paddling a mile a +minute. Let's pick her up and get afloat." + +They reached for the "her" referred to--the light canoe--when the +station agent, welcoming even this trifling relief from the monotony of +Spencer's, approached them. + +"That's a right nice craft of yours," he remarked, eying it curiously. +"Going on the pond?" + +"No, we're going around through the streams to Benton," replied the +elder boy. "Think there's water enough to float us?" + +"Why, p'raps," said the station agent. "It's a long jaunt, +though--twenty-five or thirty miles, I reckon. Calc'late to do it in one +day?" + +"Why, yes, and home in time for a late supper. We didn't think it was +quite so far as that, though. How far do you call it to the brook that +leads over into Dark Stream?" + +"Oh, two or three miles--ask Spencer. He knows more'n I do 'bout it." + +Spencer, a deliberate, sleepily-inclined individual, much preoccupied +with a jack-knife and a shingle, "allowed" the distance to be a matter +of from a mile and a half, to two miles, or "mebbe" two and a half. + +"Henry Burns, old chap, get hold of that canoe and let's scoot," +exclaimed his companion, laughing. "Tom and Bob said 'twas a mile. +Probably everyone we'd ask would say something different. If we keep on +asking questions, we'll go wrong, sure." + +Henry Burns's response was to pick up his end of the canoe, and they +went cautiously down through the tangle of grasses to the stream. The +buoyant craft rested lightly on its surface; they stepped aboard, Henry +Burns in the bow, his companion, Jack Harvey, in the stern, dipped their +paddles joyously together, and went swiftly on their way. + +It was about half-past seven o'clock of a June morning. The sun was +lightening the landscape, yet it was by no means clear. The day had, in +fact, come in foggy, and the mist was slow in burning off from the +hills. Often, at intervals, it hung over the water like a thin curtain. +But the mystery of an unknown stream, hidden by the banks along which it +wound deviously, with many a sharp twist and turn, tempted them ever to +vigorous exertion. + +Just a little way ahead, and it seemed as though the narrow stream were +ending against a bank of green. Then, as they approached, an abrupt +swerving of the stream one way or the other, opened up the course anew +for them. This was a matter of constant repetition. Theirs were the +delights, without danger, of exploration. + +"Warming up a bit, isn't it, Jack?" said Henry Burns, laying aside his +paddle for a moment and peeling off a somewhat dingy sweater. "I'm not +so sure about getting the sun for long, though." + +"Nor I," replied his companion, driving the canoe swiftly with his +single paddle till the other had freed himself of his garment and was +braced, steadily, once more; when he, too, laid his paddle across the +gunwales and stripped for the work. "I don't just like the looks of +those clouds. If we were in the old Viking now, I'd say put on all sail +and make for harbour; for it looks like rain by and by, but no wind." + +"Well, this is all one big harbour from here to Benton," laughed Henry +Burns. "Avast, I sight a cow off the port bow. Never mind the cow? All +right, on we go. If it rains hard, we'll run ashore and hunt for a barn. +Wouldn't Tom Harris and Bob White laugh to see us poking back by train, +instead of making the trip?" + +"Oh, we won't turn back," said Harvey. "Besides, there's no train in to +Benton till night. Fancy spending the day at Spencer's station! It's +through the streams for us now, rain or shine." + +As though to demonstrate more fully his determination, Harvey dipped +with a sharper, quicker stroke, put the strength of two muscular arms +into his work, and they sped quickly past the turns of their winding +course. Perhaps either Tom Harris or Bob White, of whom Henry Burns had +spoken, might have wielded the paddles with a bit more of skill, have +kept the course a little straighter, or skimmed the turns a trifle more +close; but neither could have put more of life and vim into the strokes. +A large, thick-set youth was Harvey, strongly built, with arms bronzed +and sinewy--clearly a youth who had lived much out of doors, and had +developed in sun and air. + +Harvey's companion was considerably slighter of build, but of a +well-knit figure, whose muscles, while not so pronounced, played quickly +and easily; and whose whole manner suggested somehow a reserve strength, +and a physique capable of much endurance. + +Had they possessed, however, more of that same skill and familiarity +with canoeing which comes only with practice, they would have perceived +more clearly the speed with which they were travelling, and how great a +distance already lay between them and the point where they had embarked. + +"Queer we don't come to that inlet," remarked Harvey, at length. "I +haven't seen anything that looked like the land-arks: the two houses, +the road and a bridge, that Tom spoke of." + +"No," replied Henry Burns, but added, reflectively, "unless we passed +them at least three-quarters of a mile back. But there wasn't any inlet +there. Hang it! Do you suppose Spencer was right after all?" + +"May be," said Harvey. "Let's hit it up a little harder; but watch sharp +for the brook." + +"Aye, aye, skipper," said Henry Burns. + +But at this moment the glassy surface of the stream dimpled all over +with the sudden fall of raindrops; a compact, heavy cloud wheeled +directly overhead and poured its contents upon them, while, afar off, +the fields were still lit with patches of sunlight. They scrambled as +hastily as they could into their sweaters again. + +"Let it come," said Henry Burns, resuming his wet paddle; "it's only a +cloud-bank that's caught us. We'll work out of it if we keep on. Then +the sun will dry us." + +They pushed on in the rain, peering eagerly ahead for some signs of the +landmarks that would show them the brook. Then, all at once, to their +amazement, the stream they were following divided into two forks; the +one at the right coming down from higher land, broken in its course, as +far as they could see, by stones and boulders that made it impassable +even for the light canoe; the other branch emerging from a thick tangle +of overhanging alders and willows. + +"Well now, what do you make of that?" cried Harvey, in disgust. "That +can't be the brook, to the right, and the other doesn't look as though +it led anywhere in particular." He stopped paddling, and squeezed the +water out of his cap. + +"We've come past the brook," replied Henry Burns. "It's rainy-day luck. +We've got to go up to that farmhouse on the hill and find out where we +are." + +"I haven't seen a farmhouse for more than half an hour," exclaimed +Harvey. + +"No, but there are cattle in that pasture, and a track going up through +the grove," said Henry Burns. "We'll follow that. It won't be any +blinder than this stream." + +They brought the canoe in upon the muddy bank, slumped into the ooze, +pulled the canoe half out of water and started off. + +"Nice trip!" said Henry Burns. "And the worst of it is, I have a +suspicion I know just where that brook is. I can see it now. There was a +tiny bit of a cove, a lot of rushes growing there, and two houses back +about a quarter of a mile. But it was dry--no water running--and it was +so near the station I didn't suppose that could be the place." + +"It isn't so dry by this time," remarked Harvey. + +"No, and neither are we," said Henry Burns. "Look out!" + +He dragged one leg out from a mud-hole into which he had sunk to the +knee. The path they were following led through clumps of fern and +brake, almost waist high. These, dripping with rain, drenched them as +they pushed their way through. Some fifteen minutes of hard travelling +brought them to a little rise of land, from the top of which they could +see, down in a valley beyond, a farmhouse. + +"More wet day luck," muttered Harvey. "We're in for it, though. It's a +good half mile more." + +They tramped on, in silence. The particular cloud that had first wet +them had blended much with others by this time, and it was still +raining. But they came up to the house soon, and, the big barn door +standing open invitingly, they entered there. A man and two boys, busily +engaged mending a harness, looked up in surprise. + +"Sort er wet," the man commented. "Come from the city, eh? Well, I guess +it's only a shower. What's that? The brook that runs into Dark Stream! +Huh! You're two miles past it." + +Henry Burns and Harvey looked at each other helplessly. Then Harvey +grinned. + +"It's so tough, it's almost a joke, Henry," he said. + +"Great--if it had only happened to somebody else, say your friend Harry +Brackett," replied Henry Burns. "Guess we won't tell much about this +part of the trip to Tom and Bob, though. What do you want to do, go back +to the station, or keep on?" + +"Back!" exclaimed Harvey. "Say, I'm so mad, I'd keep on now if every +drop of rain was as big as a base-ball. I'll never go back, if it takes +a week--that is, if you're game?" + +"Come on," said Henry Burns quietly. + + + + +CHAPTER II + +TURNED ADRIFT + + +Soon they were on their way again, with the sky lightening a little and +the rain almost ceased. They plunged through the tangle of dripping +brakes, down to the shore; pushed off once more in midstream, and +started back the way they had come. + +There was not quite so much spirit to their paddling as there had been +on the way up. Every stroke had meant to their minds, then, just so much +of their journey accomplished. Now they knew they were striving only to +put themselves on the right track again, and that there would be four +wet miles of wasted effort. However, they were still strong, and the +canoe went rapidly down stream. + +The two miles seemed nearer four when Henry Burns suddenly pointed with +his paddle ahead and said, soberly, "There's the place, Jack. I saw it, +coming up, but I thought it was only a patch of bull-rushes. We can't +get a canoe through, anyway. Let's go ashore and have a look at the +country." + +They paddled in and scrambled up the bank. Sure enough, there was what +would be a small brook, at some stages of water, coming in from across +country; doubtless with water enough, in the spring of the year, to +float a canoe; but now impassable. They followed it up through a wheat +field to a road, from which, to their relief, a stream of about the +dimensions of the one they had been following--not quite so large--was +to be seen. A horse drawing a wagon at a jog trot came down the road, +and they accosted the occupant of the seat. + +"How many miles to Mill Stream by the way of Dark Stream?" he said, +repeating their question. "Well, I reckon it's fifteen or sixteen. Water +enough? Oh, yes, mebbe, except p'raps in spots. Goin' round to Benton, +you say? Sho! Don't esactly envy yer the jaunt. Guess there'll be more +rain bime-by. Good day. Giddap." + +"Wall, I reckon," said Henry Burns, dryly, imitating the man's manner of +speech, "that I don't ask any more of these farmers how many miles we've +got to travel. According to his reckoning, we'd get to Benton sometime +to-morrow night. The next man might say 'twas fifty miles to Benton, and +then you'd want to turn back." + +"Never!" exclaimed Jack Harvey, grimly. "Let's go for the canoe." + +They got the canoe on their shoulders, and made short work of the carry. +But it was after ten o'clock when they set their craft afloat in Dark +Stream; and the real work of the day had just begun. + +Knowing they were really on the right course, however, cheered them. + +"Say," cried Harvey, in a sudden burst of enthusiasm, "we'll not stop at +Benton, at all, perhaps; just keep on paddling down Mill Stream past the +city, down into Samoset river, into the bay, and out to Grand Island. +Make a week of it." + +But even as he spoke, a big rain drop splashed on his cheek, and another +storm burst over them. Down it came in torrents; a summer rainfall to +delight the heart of a farmer with growing crops; a shower that fairly +bent the grass in the fields with its weight; that made a tiny lake in +the bottom of the canoe, flooded back around Harvey's knees in the +stern, and which trickled copiously down the backs of the two boys +underneath their sweaters. + +"What was you saying about Grand Island, Jack?" inquired Henry Burns, +slyly. + +"Grand Island be hanged!" said Harvey. "When I start for there, I'll go +in a boat that's got a cabin. I guess Benton will do for us." + +They looked about for shelter, but there were woods now on both sides of +the stream, and through them they could get no glimpse of any farmhouse. + +"Well, I wouldn't go into one if I saw it, now!" exclaimed Harvey. "I +can't get any wetter. Pretty soon we'll begin to like it. I'll catch a +fish, anyway. This rain will make 'em bite." + +He unwound a line from a reel, attached a spoon-hook, cast it over and +began to troll astern, far in the wake of the canoe. It was, in truth, +an ideal day for fishing, and the first clump of lily pads they passed +yielded them a big pickerel. He came in fighting and tumbling, making +the worst of his struggle--after the manner of pickerel--when he was +fairly aboard. Once free of the hook, he dropped down into the puddle in +the canoe and lashed the water with his tail so that it spattered in +Jack Harvey's face worse than the rain. Harvey despatched the fish with +a few blows of his paddle. + +"Guess I won't catch another," he said shortly. "I can't stand a shower +coming both ways at once." + +Henry Burns chuckled quietly to himself. "Let's empty her out," he +suggested. + +They ran the canoe ashore, took hold at either end, inverted the craft +and let the water drain out. Then they went on again. It was a fair and +pretty country through which the stream threaded its way, with countless +windings and twistings; but the rain dimmed and faded its beauties now. +They thought only of making progress. Yet the rain was warm, they could +not be chilled while paddling vigorously, and Henry Burns said he was +beginning to like it. + +Presently, in the far distance, a village clock sounded the hour. It +struck twelve o'clock. + +"My, I didn't know it was getting so late," said Henry Burns. "What do +you say to a bite to eat?" + +"I could eat that fish raw," said Harvey. + +"No need. We'll cook him," responded Henry Burns. "There's the place," +and he pointed in toward a grove of evergreens and birches. "That +village is a mile off. We don't want another walk through this drenching +country." + +They were only too glad to jump out ashore. + +"You get the wood, Jack, and I'll rig up the shelter and clean the +fish," said Henry Burns. Drawing out a small bag made of light duck from +one end of the canoe, they untied it and took therefrom two small +hatchets, a coil of stout cord, a fry-pan, a knife and fork apiece and a +strip of bacon; likewise a large and a small bottle. The larger +contained coffee; the smaller, matches. They examined the latter +anxiously. + +"They're all right," said Harvey, shaking the bottle. "Carry your +matches in a bottle, on a leaky boat and in the woods. I've been in +both." + +Taking the cord and one of the hatchets, Henry Burns proceeded to +stretch a line between two trees; then interlacing the line, on a slant +between other trees, he constructed a slight network; upon which, after +an excursion amid the surrounding woods, he laid a sort of thatch of +boughs. + +"That's not the best shelter I ever saw," he said at length, surveying +his work, "but it will keep off the worst of the rain." + +It did, in fact, answer fairly well, with the added protection of the +heavy branches overhead. + +In the mean time, Harvey, having hunted for some distance, had found +what he wanted--a dead tree, not so old as to be rotten, but easy to cut +and split. Into the heart of this he went with his hatchet, and quickly +got an armful of dry fire-wood. He came running back with the wood, and +a few sheets of birch-bark--the inner part of the bark--with the wet, +outer layer carefully stripped off. They had a blaze going quickly, +with this, beneath the shelter of boughs. + +They put the bacon on to fry, and pieces of the fish, cut thin with a +keen hunting-knife. The coffee, poured from the bottle into a tin +dipper, they set near the blaze, on some brands. They they gazed out +upon the drizzle, as the dinner cooked. + +Harvey shook his head, gloomily. + +"We're in for it," he said. "It's settled down for an all day's rain." + +"I hope so," responded Henry Burns, with a twinkle in his eye, "I like +it--but I wish I could feel just one dry spot on my back." + +They ate their dinner of fried bacon and pickerel and coffee beside a +fire that blazed cheerily, despite an occasional sputtering caused by +the rain dripping through; and when they had got half dry and had +started forth once more into the rain, they were in good spirits. But +the first ten minutes of paddling found them drenched to the skin again. + +They ran some small rapids after a time, and later carried around a +little dam. The afternoon waned, and the windings of the stream seemed +endless. It was three o'clock when, at a sudden turn to the right, which +was to the eastward, they came upon another stream flowing in and +mingling with the one they were following. Thenceforth the two ran as +one stream, the banks widening perceptibly, the stream flowing far more +broadly, and with increased depth and strength. The way from now on was +to the eastward some three or four miles, and then almost due south to +Benton, a distance of ten of eleven miles more. + +They were soon running swiftly with the current, shooting rapids, at +times, of an eighth of a mile in length, going very carefully not to +scrape on submerged rocks. And still the rain fell. There were two dams +to carry around, and they did this somewhat drearily, trudging along the +muddy shores, climbing the slippery banks with difficulty, and with some +danger of falling and smashing their canoe. + +Five, six and seven o'clock came; darkness was shutting in, and they +were three miles from Benton. To make matters worse, with the falling of +night the rain increased, pouring in such torrents that they had +frequently to pause and empty out their canoe. + +A few minutes after seven, and a light gleamed from a window a little +distance back from the stream, less than a quarter of a mile. + +"There's our lodgings for the night, Jack," said Henry Burns, pointing +up through the rain. "I don't mind saying I've had enough. It's three +miles yet to Benton, or nearly that, there are three more dams, and as +for walking, the road must be a bog-hole." + +"I'm with you," responded Harvey. "If it's a lodging house, I've the +money to pay--three dollars in the oiled silk wallet. If it's a +farmhouse, we'll stay, if we have to sleep in the barn." + +Presently they perceived a landing, with several rowboats tied up. They +ran in alongside this, drew their canoe clear up on to the float, turned +it over, and walked rapidly up toward the house from which the light +shone. + +"We're in luck for once," said Harvey. "There's a sign over the door." + +The sign, indeed, seemed to offer them some sort of welcome. It bore an +enormous hand pointing inward, and the inscription, "Half Way House." + +"I wonder what it's half way between," said Henry Burns, as they paused +a moment on the threshold of the door. "Half way between the sky and +China, I guess. But I don't care, if the roof doesn't leak." + +The picture, as they entered, was, in truth, one to cheer the most +wretched. Directly in front of them, in line with the door, a fire of +hickory logs roared in an old-fashioned brick fireplace, lighting up the +hotel office almost as much as did the two kerosene lamps, disposed at +either end. An old woman, dozing comfortably in a big rocking chair +before the blaze, jumped up at their appearance. + +"Land sakes!" she ejaculated, querulously. "What a night to be comin' in +upon us! Dear! Dear! Want to stay over night, you say? Well, if that +ain't like boys--canooering, you call it, in this mess of a rain. +Gracious me, but you're wet to the skin, both er yer. Well, take them +wooden chairs, as won't be spoiled with water, and sit up by the fire +till I make a new pot of coffee and warm up a bit of stew and fry a bit +of bacon. Canooering in this weather! Well, that beats me." + +"The proprietor, you say? Well, he's up the road, but he'll be in, +soon. You can pay me for the supper, and fix 'bout the stay in' over +night with him. I jes' tend to the cookin'. That's all I do." + +She called them to supper in the course of a quarter of an hour, and had +clearly done her best for them. There was coffee, steaming hot, and +biscuit, warmed up to a crisp; bacon, freshly fried, with eggs; a dish +of home-made preserves, and a sheet of gingerbread. + +"Eat all yer can hold," she chuckled, as they fell to, hungry as +panthers. "Canooering's good fer the appertite, ain't it? It's plain +vittles, but I reckon the cookin's good as the most of 'em, if I say it, +who shouldn't." + +She rambled on, somewhat garrulously, as the boys ate. They did full +justice to the cooking, stuffed themselves till Henry Burns said he +could feel his skin stretch; paid the old woman her price for the +meal--"twenty-five cents apiece, an' it couldn't be done for less"--and +went and seated themselves comfortably once more by the fire in the +office. They settled themselves back comfortably. + +"Arms ache?" inquired Harvey of his comrade. + +"No," replied Henry Burns, "but I don't mind saying I'm tired. I +wouldn't stir out of this place again to-night for sixteen billion +dol--" + +The door opened, and a bulky, red-faced man entered, stamping, shaking +the rain from his clothing like a big Newfoundland dog, and railing +ill-naturedly at the weather. + +"It's a vile night, gran'," he exclaimed; then espying his two +newly-arrived guests, he assumed a more cordial tone. + +"Good evening. Good evening, young gentlemen," he said. "Glad you got in +out of the storm--hello! what's this? Well, if it don't beat me!" + +At the sound of the man's voice, Henry Burns and Jack Harvey had sprung +up in amazement. They stood beside their chairs, eying the proprietor of +the Half Way House, curiously. He, in turn, glared at them in +astonishment, fully equal to theirs, while his red face went from its +normal fiery hue to deep purple, and his hands clenched. + +[Illustration: "AT THE SOUND OF THE MAN'S VOICE, HENRY BURNS AND JACK +HARVEY HAD SPRUNG UP IN AMAZEMENT."] + +"Colonel Witham!" they exclaimed, in the same breath. + +"What are you two doing here?" he cried. + +"What new monkey-shine of yours is this? Don't you know I won't have any +Henry Burnses and Jack Harveys, nor any of the rest of you, around my +hotel? Didn't yer get satisfaction enough out of bringing bad luck to me +in one place, and now you come bringing it here? Get out, is what I say +to you, and get out quick!" + +"You keep away, gran'," he cried to the woman, who had stepped forward. +"Don't you go interfering. It's my hotel; and I wouldn't care if 'twas +raining a bucket a drop and coming forty times as hard. I'd put 'em out +er doors, neck and crop. Get out, I say, and don't ever step a foot +around here again." + +Henry Burns and Jack Harvey stood for a moment, gazing in perplexity at +each other. + +"Shall we go, or stick it out?" asked Harvey, in a low voice. + +"Why, it's a public house, and I don't believe he has a right to throw +us out this way," said Henry Burns. "But it means a fight, sure, if we +try to stay. I guess we better quit. It's his own place, and he's a +rough man when he's angered." + +Ruefully pulling on their sweaters--at least dry once more--and taking +their paddles, which they had brought with them, from behind the door, +they went out into the night, into the driving rain. + + + + +CHAPTER III + +THE OLD MILL + + +The two boys, thus most unexpectedly evicted, stood disconsolately on +the porch of the Half Way House, peering out into the storm. The +character of it had changed somewhat, the rain driving fiercely now and +then, with an occasional quick flaw of wind, instead of falling +monotonously. And now there came a few rumblings of thunder, with faint +flashes of lightning low in the sky. + +"Well, Jack," said Henry Burns, at length, speaking with more than his +customary deliberation, "wet night luck seems to be worse even than wet +day luck. But who'd ever thought we'd have such tough luck as to run +across Col. Witham up here, and a night like this? The boys never said +anything about his being here." + +"No--and he's got no right to put us out!" cried Harvey. "If you'll +stand by, I'll go back into that office and tell him what I think of +him." + +"He knows that already," replied Henry Burns, coolly. "Wouldn't be any +news to him. Say, I see a light way up on the hill to the left. Suppose +we try them there. I wish we could see the road and the paths better, +so as to know where we are." + +As though almost in answer to this wish, a brilliant flash of lightning +illumined the whole sky; and, for a brief moment, there stood clearly +outlined before them, like a huge magic-lantern picture, the prominent +features of the landscape. + +Past the hotel where they stood, the highway ran, gleaming now with +pools of water. Some way down the road, the land descended to a narrow +intervale through which a brook flowed, with a rude wooden bridge thrown +across in line with the road. Farther still down the road, and a little +off from it, beside the larger stream which they had travelled all day, +an old mill squatted close to the water, hard by the brink of a dam. +Away up on the hillside, some three quarters of a mile off, a farmhouse +gave them a fleeting glimpse of its gables and chimneys. Then the +picture vanished and the black curtain of the night fell again. + +"All right," assented Harvey, to the reply of his comrade, "I suppose we +better go without a fuss. It isn't getting out in the rain here that +makes me maddest. It's to think of Col. Witham chuckling over it in +there, snug and dry." + +"He isn't," said Henry Burns. "He never chuckles over anything. He's +madder than we are, because we got our suppers and a drying out. Come +on, dive in. It's always the first plunge that's worst." + +They stepped forth into the rain and began walking briskly down the +road. They had gone scarcely more than a rod, however, when something +brushed against Jack Harvey, and a hand was laid lightly on his arm. He +jumped back in some alarm, for they had heard no footsteps, nor dreamed +of anybody being near. + +To their relief, a girl's merry peal of laughter--coming oddly enough +from out the storm--sounded in their ears; and a slight, quaint little +figure stood in the road before them. + +"Oh, how you did jump!" she exclaimed, and laughed again, like some +weird mite of a water-sprite, pleased to have frightened so sturdy a +chap as Jack Harvey. "I won't hurt you," she continued, half-mockingly. +"I'm Bess Thornton. Gran' got the supper for you. Oh, but I'm just +furious at Witham for being so mean." + +Henry Burns and Harvey, taken all by surprise, stood staring in +amazement. A faint glimmering in the sky came to their aid and they +discerned, indistinctly, a girl, barefoot and hatless, of age perhaps +twelve, poorly dressed in a gingham frock, apparently as unmindful of +the rain as though she were, indeed, a water-sprite. + +"Well, what is it?" asked Henry Burns. "Witham doesn't say come back, +does he?" + +"Not he!" cried the little creature, impetuously, "Oh, the old +bogey-man! He's worse than the wicked giant in the book. I wish I was a +Jack-the-giant-killer. I'd--" + +Words apparently failing her to express a punishment fitting for Col. +Witham, the child shook a not very formidable fist in the direction of +the tavern, then added, sharply, "Where are you going?" + +"Up to that house on the hill," said Harvey. "They'll take us in there, +won't they?" + +The answer was not encouraging. + +"No-o-o, not much he won't," cried the girl. "Oh, don't you know old +Farmer Ellison? He's worse than Witham. He hates you." + +"Guess not," said Henry Burns. "We never saw him." + +"No, but you're from the city," said the child. "He hates all of you. +Haven't I heard him say so, and shake his old cane at Benton? He'll cane +you. He'll set the collies on you--" + +"I'd like to meet anything that I could kick!" cried Harvey, clenching +his fist. "What kind of a place is this we've got into? That's what I'd +like to know. Henry, where in this old mud-hole shall we go? Think of +it! Three miles to Benton on this road." + +"That's what I've come to tell you," said the child, "though I'd catch +it from Witham if he knew--and old Ellison, wouldn't he be mad?" + +The very idea seemed to afford her merriment, and she laughed again. +"Come, hurry along with me," she continued. "It's the old mill. I know +the way in, and there's a warm fire there. You'll have to run, though, +for I'm getting soaked through." And she started off ahead of them, like +a will-o'-the-wisp. + +"Here, hold on a minute," called Henry Burns, who had gallantly +divested himself of his sweater, while the rain drops splashed coldly on +his bare arms. "Put this on. I don't need it." + +But she tripped on, unheeding; and twice, in their strange flight toward +the mill, the lightning revealed her to them--a flitting, odd little +thing, like a figure in a dream. Indeed, when they saw her, darting +across the bridge over the brook, just ahead of them, they would +scarcely have been surprised had she vanished, as witches do that dare +not cross running water. + +But she kept on, and they came presently, all out of breath, in the +shadow of the old mill. The three gained the shelter of a roof +overhanging a narrow platform that ran along one side, and paused for a +moment to rest. + +It was a dismal place, by night, but the child seemed at ease and +without fear. + +"I know every inch of the old mill," she said, as though by way of +reassurance. "You've just got to look out where you step, and you're all +right." + +Had it not offered some sort of shelter from the storm, however, the +place would hardly have appealed to Harvey and Henry Burns. The aged +building seemed to creak and sway in the wind, as though it might fall +apart from weakness and topple into the water. The stream plunged over +the dam with a sullen roar, much as if it chafed at the barrier and +longed to sweep it altogether from its course and carry its timbers with +it. Once the lightning flashed into and through all the cobwebbed +window-panes, and the mill gave out a ghastly glare. + +"Nice, cheerful place for a night's lodging," remarked Henry Burns. +"Perhaps we'd better roost right here. I don't exactly take a fancy to +the rickety old shell." + +"Oh, but it's lovely when you're inside," exclaimed the child, almost +reprovingly. "There's the meal-bags to sleep on. And look, you can see +the stove, in through the window, red with the fire. It keeps things dry +in the mill. I've slept there twice, when gran' was after me with a +stick." + +"All alone?" asked Henry Burns, looking at the child wonderingly, and +feeling a sudden pity for her. + +"Why yes," said she. "There's nothing to be afraid of--only rats. Ugh! I +hate rats. Don't you?" + +"Go ahead," said Henry Burns, stoutly. "We'll follow you. It looks like +a real nice place, don't it, Jack?" + +"Perhaps," muttered Harvey. + +The girl crept along the platform and descended a short flight of steps +that led to the mill flume--a long box-like sluice-way that carried the +water in to turn the mill wheels. These wheels were silent now, for two +great gates at the end of the flume barred out the waters. The girl +tripped lightly along a single plank that extended over the flume. The +boys followed cautiously. + +"Can you swim?" asked Harvey. + +"Why, of course," said she. + +Presently she paused, took a few steps across a plank that led to a +window, raised that, climbed in and disappeared. + +"Come on," she called softly. "I'll show you where to step." + +"Whew!" exclaimed Harvey. "This is worse than a gale in Samoset Bay." + +"Oh, it's lovely when you get inside," said Henry Burns--"all except the +rats. Come along." + +They climbed in through the window, dropping on to a single plank on the +other side, by the child's direction. + +"Now stay here," she said, "till I come back." + +It was pitch dark and they could not see where they were; but they could +hear her light steps as she made her way in through the mill and +disappeared. + +"She'll never come back," exclaimed Harvey. "Say, wake me up with a +good, hard punch, will you, Henry? I know I'm dreaming." + +But now they perceived the dull glimmer of a lantern, turned low, being +borne toward them by an unseen hand. Then the figure of the girl +appeared, and soon the lantern's rays lighted up vaguely the interior of +the mill. + +They were, it proved, still outside the grinding-rooms, in that part of +the mill where the water would pour in to turn the wheels. It was gaunt +and unfinished, filled with the sound of dripping waters; with no +flooring, but only a scanty network of beams and planking for them to +thread their way across. + +They followed the child now over these, and came quickly to a small +sliding door, past which they entered the main room on the first floor. +There, in truth, it would seem they might not be uncomfortably housed +for the night. A small box-stove, reddened in patches by the burning +coals within, shed warmth throughout the room. There were heaps of empty +meal-bags lying here and there. And, for certain, there was no rain +coming in. + +And now, having been guided by their new acquaintance to their lodgings, +so strangely, they found themselves, almost on the moment, deserted. + +"Here you are," said the child, with somewhat of a touch of pride in her +voice. "Didn't I say I'd get you in all right? Don't turn that light up +too bright. Someone might see it from the road. And get out early in the +morning, before old Ellison comes. Good night and sleep tight. And don't +you ever, ever tell, or I'll catch it. I don't need the lantern. I can +feel my way." + +The next moment she was gone. They would have detained her, to ask more +about herself; about the mill wherein they were; to ask about Ellison, +the owner. But it was too late. They heard her steps, faintly, as she +traversed the dangerous network of planking, and then only the steady, +dripping sound came in through the little doorway. + +"Well," exclaimed Harvey, throwing himself down on a pile of meal-bags, +close by the fire, "this isn't the worst place I ever got into, if it is +old and rickety. Don't that fire feel good?" + +He drew off his dripping sweater and hung it on a box, which he set +near, and rubbed his arms vigorously. + +"This is such a funny old room I can't keep still in it," he continued. +"The fire feels great, but I want to explore and see what kind of a +place I'm in." + +"Oh, sit down and be comfortable," replied Henry Burns. "Just make +believe you're in the cabin of the _Viking_." + +"Say, Henry," exclaimed Harvey warmly to his friend's reply, "do you +know I'm half sorry we let the _Viking_ go for the summer. Of course +'twas mighty nice of Tom and Bob to ask us to spend the summer in Benton +with them; but I don't know as canoeing and fishing and that sort of +thing will do for us. I'd like to have a hand on the old _Viking's_ +wheel right now." + +"Oh, we'll get sailing, too," answered Henry Burns. "We're going to try +the pond, you know. Hello, there's a wheel, now. Looks like a ship's +wheel, at that--only rougher. You can stand your trick at that, if you +want to, while I sit by the fire." + +He was sorry he spoke, the next moment, for Harvey--never too +cautious--gave a roar of delight, and darted over to where his friend +had pointed. + +There, attached to a small shaft that protruded from the wooden +partition which divided the two lower rooms of the mill, was a large, +wooden wheel, with a series of wooden spokes attached to its rim, after +the manner of a ship's wheel. + +"Hooray!" bawled Harvey, seizing the wheel and giving it several +vigorous turns, "keep her off, did you say, skipper? Ay, ay, we'll clear +the breakers now, with water to spare. + +"Here you," addressing an imaginary sailor, "get forward lively and +clear that jib-sheet; and look out for the block. Hanged if we want a +man overboard a night like this, eh, Mister Burns?" + +"Say, Jack, I wouldn't do that," replied Henry Burns, laughing at his +comrade's antics. "You don't know what that may turn." + +"Don't I, though!" roared Harvey, jamming the wheel around with a few +more turns. "Why, you land-lubber, it turns the ship, same as any wheel. +This is the good ship, _Rattle-Bones_, bound from Benton to Boston, with +a cargo of meal--and rats. We've lost our pilot, Bess--what's her +name--and we've got to put her through ourselves. + +"Hello!" he cried suddenly, checking himself in the midst of his +nonsense and listening intently. "What's that noise? Henry, no joking, I +hear breakers off the port bow. We're going aground, or the ship's +leaking." + +Henry Burns sprang up, and both boys stood, wondering. + +Out of the darkness of the other part of the mill there came in a sound +of rushing water, plainly distinguishable above the roar of the water +flowing over the dam, and the dashing rain and the gusts of wind. Then, +as they stood, listening curiously, there came a deep, rumbling sound +out of the very vitals of the old mill; there was a gentle quivering +throughout all its timbers; a groaning in all its aged structure; a +whirring, droning sound--the wheels of the mill were turning, and there +was needed only the pushing of one of the levers to set the great +mill-stones, themselves, to grinding. + +"Jack," cried Henry Burns, "you've opened the gates. The wheels are +turning. We've got to stop that, quick. Someone might hear it." + +He sprang to the wheel, gave it a few sharp whirls, turned it again and +again with all his strength, and the rushing noise ceased. The mill, as +though satisfied that its protests against being driven to work at such +an hour had been availing, quieted once more, and the place was still. + +Still, save that the wind outside swept sharply around the corners of +the old structure, moaning about the eaves and whistling dismally in at +knot-holes. Still, save that now and again it seemed to quiver on its +foundations when some especially heavy thunder-clap roared overhead, +while the momentary flash revealed the dusty, cobwebbed interior. + +One standing, by chance, at the door of the mill that opened on to the +road, might have espied, in one of these sudden illumings of the night, +a farm wagon, drawn by a tired horse, splashing along the road past the +mill, and turning off, just below it, on the road leading to the house +on the hill. + +The driver, a tall, spare man, thin-faced and stoop-shouldered, sat with +head bent forward, to keep the rain from beating in his face. He was +letting the horse, familiar with the way, pick the road for itself. + +All at once, however, he sat upright, drew the reins in sharply, and +peered back in the direction of the mill. + +"Well, I'm jiggered!" he exclaimed. "If that isn't the mill. I must be +crazy. It can't run itself. Yes, but it is, though. What on earth's got +loose? It's twenty years and it's never done a thing like that. Back, +there. Back, confound you! I'll have a look." + +The horse most unwillingly backing and turning, headed once more toward +the main road, and then was drawn up short again. + +"Well, I must have been dreaming, sure enough," muttered the driver. "I +don't hear anything now. Well, we'll keep on, anyway. I'll have a turn +around the old place. There's more there than some folks know of. I'll +see that all's safe, if it rains pitchforks and barn-shovels. Giddap +Billy." + +A few moments later, Henry Burns and Harvey, having tucked themselves +snugly in among the meal-sacks close by the fire, with the lantern +extinguished, roused up, astounded and dismayed, at the sound of +carriage wheels just outside, and the click of a key in the lock of the +door. They had barely time to spring from their places, and dart up the +stairs that led from the middle of the main floor to the one next above, +before the door was thrown open and a man stepped within. + +They were dressed, most fortunately, for canoeing; and they had gained +the security of the upper floor, thanks to feet clad in tennis shoes, +without noise. Now they crouched at the head of the stairs, in utter +darkness, not knowing whither to move, or whether or not a step might +plunge them into some shaft. + +"It must be Ellison," whispered Harvey. "What'll we do?" + +"Nothing," answered Henry Burns, "and not make any noise about it +either. He heard your ship, Jack. Sh-h-h. We don't want to be put out +into the rain again." + +Farmer Ellison shut the door behind him, and they heard him take a few +steps across the floor; then he was apparently fumbling about in the +dark for something, for they heard him say, "It isn't there. Confound +that boy! He never puts that lantern back on the hook. If he don't catch +it, to-morrow. Hello! Well, if I've smashed that glass, there'll be +trouble." + +Farmer Ellison, stumbling across the floor, had, indeed, kicked the +lantern which had been left there by the fleeing canoeists. That it was +not broken, however, was evidenced the next moment by the gleam of its +light. + +By this gleam, the boys, peering down the stairway, could make out the +form of a tall, stoop-shouldered man, holding the lantern in one hand +and gazing about him. Now he advanced toward the little door that opened +into the outer mill, and stood, looking through, while he held the +lantern far out ahead of him. + +"Queer," he muttered. "I closed that door before I went up, or I'm +getting forgetful. But everything's all right. I don't see anything the +matter. Ho! ho! I'm getting nervous about things--and who wouldn't? When +a man has--" + +The rest of his sentence was lost, for he had stepped out on to one of +the planks. They heard him, only indistinctly, stepping from one plank +to another; but what he sought and what he did they could not imagine. + +"He must think a lot of this old rattle-trap, to mouse around here this +time of night," muttered Harvey. "What'll we do, Henry?" + +"Hide, just as soon as we get a chance," whispered Henry Burns. "He may +take a notion to come up. There! Look sharp, Jack. Get your bearings." + +Again a sharp flash of lightning gleamed through the upper windows, +lighting up the room where they were, for a moment, then leaving it +seemingly blacker than before. + +"I've got it," whispered Henry Burns. "Follow me, Jack." + +The two stole softly across to an end of the room, to where a series of +boxes were built in, under some shafting and chutes, evidently +constructed to receive the meal when ground. Henry Burns lifted the +cover of one of these. It was nearly empty, and they both squeezed in, +drawing the cover down over their heads, and leaving an opening barely +sufficient to admit air. + +They had not been a minute too soon; for presently they heard the sound +of footsteps. Farmer Ellison was coming up the stairs. Then the lantern +appeared at the top of the stairway, and the bearer came into view. + +They saw him go from one corner to another, throwing the lantern rays +now overhead among the tangle of belting, now behind some beam. Then he +paused for a moment beside one of the huge grinding stones. He put his +foot upon it and uttered an exclamation of satisfaction. + +"All right--all right," they heard him say. "Ah, the old mill looks +poor, but there's some men dress just like it, and have money in their +pockets." + +Then he passed on and up a flight of stairs leading to the third and +highest floor of the mill. He did not remain long, however, but came +down, still talking to himself. And when he kept on and descended to the +main floor, he was repeating that it was "all right," and "all safe;" +and so, finally, they heard him blow out the light, hang the lantern on +a hook and pass out through the door. The sound of the wagon wheels told +them that he was driving away. + +Quickly they scrambled out from their hiding place, descended the stairs +and crouched by the fire. + +"Well, what now?" asked Harvey. "Guess we'll turn in, eh?" + +But Henry Burns was already snuggling in among the meal-bags. + +"I'm going to sleep, Jack," he said. "Didn't you hear old Ellison say +everything was 'all right'?" + +"Yes. I wonder what he meant," said Harvey. + +"Oh, he said that just to please us," chuckled Henry Burns. "Good +night." + +The bright sun of a clearing day awoke them early the next morning, and +they lost no time in quitting the mill. + +"Jack," said Henry Burns, as he followed his companion across the +planking of the flume, "you look like an underdone buckwheat cake. +There's enough flour on your back for breakfast." + +"I'd like to eat it," exclaimed Harvey. "I'm hungry enough. Let's get +the canoe and streak it for Benton." + +They were drawing their canoe up the bank, a few moments later, to carry +it around the dam, when something away up along shore attracted their +notice. There, perched in a birch tree, in the topmost branches, with +her weight bending it over till it nearly touched the water, they espied +a girl, swinging. Then, as they looked, she waved a hand to them. + +"Hello," exclaimed Henry Burns. "It's Bess What's-her-name. She's not +afraid of getting drowned. That's sure." + +The boys swung their caps to her, and she stood upright amid the +branches and waved farewell to them, as they started for Benton. + + + + +CHAPTER IV + +THE TROUT POOL + + +The brook that flowed into Mill Stream, just above the old mill, itself, +came down from some heavily wooded hills a few miles to the northeast, +and its waters were ever cold, even in hottest summer, save in one or +two open places in the intervening meadows. It was called "Cold Brook" +by some of the farmers. Henry Burns and Harvey and Bess Thornton had +crossed this brook, by way of the bridge on their flight to the mill. + +A wayfarer, standing on the little bridge, of an afternoon, keeping +motionless and in the shadow, might sometimes see, far down in the clear +water, vague objects that looked like shadows cast by sticks. He might +gaze for many minutes and see no sign of life or motion to them. Then, +perchance, one of these same grey shadows might disappear in the +twinkling of an eye; the observer would see the surface of the water +break in a tiny whirl; the momentary flash of a silvery side, spotted +with red, appear--and the trout would vanish back into the deep water +once more. + +Let the traveller try as he might, he seldom got one of these fish. +They were too wary; "educated," the farmers called them. They certainly +knew enough not to bite. + +Tim Reardon occasionally came back to Benton with two or three of the +trout tucked inside his blouse; but he wouldn't tell how he got 'em--not +even to Jack Harvey, to whom he was loyal in all else. Most folks came +back empty-handed. + +To be sure, there was one part of the brook where the least experienced +fisherman might cast a line and draw out a fish. But that was just the +very part of all the brook where nobody was allowed. It was the pool +belonging to Farmer Ellison. + +A little more than a mile up the brook from the bridge the water came +tumbling down a series of short, abrupt cascades, into a pool, formed by +a small dam thrown across the brook between banks that were quite steep. +This pool broadened out in its widest part to a width of several rods, +bordered by thick alders, swampy land in places, and in part by a grove +of beech trees. + +Come upon this pool at twilight and you would see the trout playing +there as though they had just been let out of school. Try to catch +one--and if Farmer Ellison wasn't down upon you in a hurry, it was +because he was napping. + +You might have bought Farmer Ellison's pet cow, but not a chance to fish +in this pool. Indeed, he seldom fished it himself, but he prized the +trout like precious jewels. John and James Ellison, Farmer Ellison's +sons, and Benjamin, their cousin, fished the pool once in a great +while--and got soundly trounced if caught. It was Farmer Ellison's +hobby, this pool and its fish. He gloated over them like a miser. He +watched them leap, and counted them when they did, as a miser would +money. + +The dam held the trout in the pool downstream, and the cascades--or the +upper cascade--held them from escaping upstream. There were three +smaller cascades which a lusty trout could ascend by a fine series of +rushes and leapings. The upper water-fall was too steep to be scaled. +When the water in the brook was high there was an outlet in the dam for +it to pass through, to which a gate opened, and protected at all times +by heavy wire netting. + +Farmer Ellison's house was situated on a hill overlooking this part of +the brook, less than a half mile away. + +Some way up the brook, if one followed a path through mowing-fields from +Farmer Ellison's, and crossed a little foot-bridge over the brook, he +would come eventually upon a house, weather-beaten and unpainted, small +and showing every sign of neglect. The grass grew long in the dooryard. +A few hens scratched the weeds in what once might have been flower-beds. +The roof was sagging, and the chimney threatened to topple in the first +high wind. + +The sun was shining in at the windows of this house, at the close of an +afternoon, a few days following the adventure of Henry Burns and Harvey +in the mill. It revealed a girl, little, sturdy and of well-knit +figure, though in whose childish face there was an underlying trace of +shrewdness unusual in one so young; like a little wild creature, or a +kitten that has found itself more often chased than petted. + +The girl was busily engaged, over a kitchen fire, stirring some sort of +porridge in a dish. Clearly, hers were spirits not easily depressed by +her surroundings, for she whistled at her task,--as good as any boy +could have whistled,--and now and again, from sheer excess of animation, +she whisked away from the stove and danced about the old kitchen, all +alone by herself. + +"Isn't that oatmeal most ready, Bess?" came a querulous voice presently, +from an adjoining room. "What makes you so long?" + +"Coming, gran', right away now," replied the child. "The coffee's hot, +too. Don't it smell go-o-od? But there's only one--" + +"What?" queried the voice. + +"Nothing," said the child. + +She took a single piece of bread from a box, toasted it for a moment, +put it on a plate, poured a cup of coffee, dished out a mess of the +porridge, and carried it all into the next room. There, an elderly +woman, muttering and scolding to herself as she lay on a couch, received +it. + +"Too bad the rheumatics bother so, gran'," said the child, consolingly. +"If they last to-morrow, I'm going to tell old Witham and make him send +you something good to eat." + +"No, you won't," exclaimed the woman sharply. "Much he cares! Says he +pays me too much now for cooking; and he says I've got money tucked away +here. Wish I had." + +"So do I," said the child. "I'd buy the biggest doll you ever saw." + +"Fudge!" cried the old woman. "Why, you've outgrown 'em long ago." + +"I know it," said the child, solemnly. "But I'd just like to have a big +one, once." + +"And so you should, if we had our rights," cried Grannie Thornton, +lifting herself up on an elbow, with a jerk that brought forth an +exclamation of pain. "If he didn't own everything. If he didn't get it +all--what we used to own." + +"Old Ellison?" suggested the child. + +"Yes, Jim Ellison." Grannie Thornton sat up and shook a lean fist toward +the window that opened off toward the hill. "Oh, he bought it all right. +He paid for it, I suppose. But it's ours, by rights. We owned it all +once, from Ten Mile Wood to the bridge. But it's gone now." + +"I don't see why we don't own it now, if that's so," said the child. + +"Well, it's law doin's," muttered the woman. "Get your own supper, and +don't bother me." + +"I don't understand," said the child, as she went back to the kitchen. + +She might have understood better if Grannie Thornton had explained the +real reason: that the Thorntons had gone wild and run through their farm +property; mortgaged it and sold it out; and that Ellison, a shrewd +buyer, had got it when it was to be had cheapest. But she asked one more +question. + +"Gran'" she said, peeping in at the door, "will we ever get it again, +s'pose?" + +"Mercy sakes, how do I know!" came the answer. "It's ours now, by +rights. Will you ever stop talking?" + +The child looked wonderingly out across the fields; seated herself by +the window, and still gazed as she drank her coffee and ate her scanty +supper. She was sitting there when night shut down and hid the hill and +the brook from sight. + +The sun, himself an early riser, was up not anywhere near so early next +morning as was Bess Thornton. There was light in the east, but the sun +had not begun to roll above the hill-tops when the child stole quietly +out of bed, slipped into her few garments, and hurried barefoot, from +the room where she and Grannie Thornton slept. The old woman was still +slumbering heavily. + +"I'll not ask that old Witham for anything for gran," she said. "I'll +get her something,--and something she'll like, too. It all belongs to +us, anyway, gran' said." + +The girl gently slid the bolt of the kitchen door, stepped outside and +closed the door after her. Then she made her way out through the +neglected garden to an old apple-tree, against which there leaned a long +slender alder pole, with a line and hook attached. Throwing this over +her shoulder, she started down through the fields in the direction of +the brook. + +On the way, a few grasshoppers, roused from their early naps in the +grass by the girl's bare feet, jumped this side and that. But, with the +coolness of the hour, they seemed to have some of old Grannie Thornton's +rheumatism in their joints, for they tumbled and sprawled clumsily. The +girl quickly captured several of them, tying them up in a fold of her +handkerchief. + +Presently she came near the borders of the pool, dear to the heart of +Farmer Ellison. But the edge of the pool on the side where she walked +was boggy. Gazing sharply for some moments up at the big house on the +hill, the girl darted down to the edge of the brook close by the dam, +then suddenly skimmed across it to the other side. + +A little way above the dam, on that side, there were clumps of bushes, +among which one might steal softly to the water's edge, on good, firm +footing. The girl did this, seated herself on a little knoll behind a +screen of shrubs, baited the hook with a fat grasshopper and cast it +into the pool. + +"Grasshopper Green, go catch me a trout," she whispered; "and don't you +dare come back without a big--" + +Splash! There was a quick, sharp whirl in the still water; a tautening +of the line, a hard jerk of the rod, and the girl was drawing in a plump +fellow that was fighting gamely and wrathfully for his freedom. The fish +darted to and fro for a moment, lashed the water into a miniature +upheaval, and then swung in to where a small but strong little hand +clutched him. + +"Oh, you beauty!" she exclaimed, gazing triumphantly and admiringly at +his brilliant spots. "Didn't you know better than to try to eat poor old +Grasshopper Green? See what you get for it. Gran'll eat you now." + +She took the trout from the hook, dropped it among the shrubs, took +another "grasshopper green" from her handkerchief, and cast again. A +second and a third trout rewarded her efforts. + +But Bess Thornton, the grasshoppers and the trout were not the only ones +stirring abroad early this pleasant morning. A person not all intent +upon fishing, nor absorbed in the excitement of it, might have seen, had +he looked in the direction of the house on the hill, Farmer Ellison, +himself, appear in the doorway and gaze out over his fields and stream. + +Had one been nearer, he might have seen a look of grim satisfaction, +that was almost a smile, steal over the man's face as he saw the grass, +grown thick and heavy; grains coming in well filled; garden patches +showing thrift; cattle feeding in pasture lands, and the brook winding +prettily down through green fields and woodland. + +But the expression upon Farmer Ellison's face changed, as he gazed; his +brow wrinkled into a frown. His eyes flashed angrily. + +What was that, moving to and fro amid the alder clumps by the border of +the trout pool? There was no breeze stirring the alders; but one single +alder stick--was not it waving back and forth most mysteriously? + +Farmer Ellison gave an exclamation of anger. He knew these early morning +poachers. This would not be the first he had chased before sunrise, +taking a fish from the forbidden waters. He stepped back into the entry, +seized a stout cane, and started forth down through the fields, bending +low and screening himself as he progressed by whatsoever trees and +bushes were along the way. + +That someone was there, whipping the stream, there could be no doubt. +Yet, someone--whoever it was--must be short, or else, perchance, +crouched low in the undergrowth; for Farmer Ellison could get no glimpse +of the fisherman. + +Crack! A dead branch snapped under Farmer Ellison's heavy boot. + +Bess Thornton, gleeful,--joyous over the conquest of her third trout, +looked quickly behind her, startled by the snapping of the branch only a +few rods away. What she saw made her gasp. She almost cried out with the +sudden fright. But she acted promptly. + +Giving the pole a sharp thrust, she shoved it in under the bank, beneath +the water. The trout! The precious trout! Ah, she could not leave them. +Hastily she snatched them up, and thrust all three inside her gingham +waist, dropping them in with a wrench at the neck-band. + +"Ugh! how they squirm," she cried, softly. + +Then, creeping to the water's edge, she dived in--neatly as any trout +could have done it--and disappeared. One who did not know Bess Thornton +might well have been alarmed now, for the child seemed to be lost. The +surface of the brook where she had gone down remained unruffled. Then, +clear across on the other side, one watching sharply might have seen a +child's head appear out of the pool, at the edge of a clump of +bull-rushes; might have seen her emerge half out of water, and hide +herself from view of anyone on the opposite shore. + +She had swum the entire width of the pool under water. + +From her hiding-place she saw Farmer Ellison rush suddenly from cover +upon the very place where she had sat, fishing. She saw him run, +furiously, hither and thither, beating the underbrush with his cane, +shaking the stick wrathfully. His face showed the keenest disappointment +and chagrin. + +Up and down the shore of the pool he travelled, searching every clump +that might afford shelter. + +"Well," he exclaimed finally, "I must be going wrong, somehow. First +it's the mill I hear, when it isn't grinding, and now I see somebody +fishing when there isn't anybody. I'll go and take some of them burdock +bitters. Guess my liver must be out of order." + +Farmer Ellison, shaking his head dubiously, and casting a backward +glance now and then, strode up the hill, looking puzzled and wrathful. + +When he was a safe distance out of the way, a little figure, dripping +wet, scrambled in across the bog on the other side, and stole up +through the fields to the old tumble-down house. + +"What's that you're cooking, child?" called out a voice, some time +later, as the girl stood by the kitchen stove. + +"M-m-m-m gran', it's something awful good. Do you smell 'em?" replied +the child, gazing proudly into the fry-pan, wherein the three fat trout +sizzled. "Well, I caught 'em, myself." + +"I do declare!" exclaimed Grannie Thornton. "I didn't know the trout +would bite now anywhere but in Jim Ellison's pool." + +The girl made no reply. + +"You like 'em, don't you, gran'?" she said, gleefully, some moments +later, as she stood watching the old woman eat her breakfast with a +relish. Grannie Thornton had eaten one trout, and was beginning on the +half of another. + +"They're tasty, Bess," she replied. "Where did you catch 'em? I thought +the fishing in the brook wasn't any use nowadays." + +The girl stood for a moment, hesitating. Then she thought of the old +woman's words of the night before. + +"I caught 'em in the pool, gran'," she said. + +The iron fork with which Grannie Thornton was conveying a piece of the +trout to her mouth dropped from her hand. The last piece she had eaten +seemed to choke her. Then she tottered to her feet with a wrench that +made her groan. + +"You got 'em from the pool!" she screamed. "From the pool, do you say? +Don't yer know that's stealing? Didn't I bring you up better'n that? +What do you mean by going and being so bad, just 'cause I'm crippled and +can't look after yer? Would you grow up to be a thief, child?" + +The old woman's strength failed her, and she fell back on the couch. The +girl stood for a moment, silent, the tears rolling down her cheeks. + +"But you said 'twas all ours, anyway, gran'," she sobbed. "Will I have +to go to prison, do you think?" + +"Nonsense!" cried Grannie Thornton. "But if Ellison found it out--" + +Bess Thornton was darting out of the doorway. + +"He'll find it out now," she said, bitterly. "I'll tell him. I don't +care what happens to me." + +Benjamin Ellison, James Ellison's nephew, a heavy-set, large-boned, +clumsily-built youth, lounged lazily in the dooryard of the Ellison +homestead as the girl neared the gate, a quarter of an hour later. + +"Hello, Tomboy," he said, barring her entrance, with arms outstretched. +"Don't know as I'll let you in this way. Let's see you jump the fence. +Say, what's the matter with you? Ho! ho! Why, you look like that cat I +dropped in the brook yesterday. You've got a ducking, somehow. Your +clothes aren't all dry yet. Who--?" + +The youth's bantering was most unexpectedly interrupted. He himself +didn't know exactly how it happened. He only knew that the girl had +darted suddenly forward, that he had been neatly tripped, and that he +found himself lying on his back in a clump of burdocks. + +"Here, you beggar!" he cried, spitefully, scrambling to his feet and +making after her. "You'll get another ducking for that." + +But the girl, as though knowing human nature, instinctively ran close +beside another youth, of about the same size as Benjamin, who had just +appeared from the house, caught him by an arm and said, "Don't let him +hurt me, will you, John? I tripped him up. Oh, but you ought to have +seen him!" + +Her errand was forgotten for an instant and she laughed a merry laugh. + +The boy thus appealed to, a youth of about his cousin's size, but of a +less heavy mould, stood between her and the other. + +"You go on, Bennie," he said, laughing. "Let her alone. Oh ho, that's +rich! Put poor old Bennie on his back, did you, Bess? What do you want?" + +The girl's mirth vanished, and her face flushed. + +"I want to see your father," she said, slowly. + +"All right, go in the door there," responded John Ellison. "He's all +alone in the dining-room." + +Farmer Ellison, finishing his third cup of coffee, and leaning back in +his chair, looked up in surprise, as the girl stepped noiselessly across +the threshold and confronted him. + +"Well! Well!" he exclaimed, eying her somewhat sharply. "Why didn't you +knock at the door? Forgotten how? What do you want?" + +The girl waited for a moment before replying, shuffling her bare feet +and tugging at her damp dress. Then she seemed to gather her courage. +She looked resolutely at Farmer Ellison. + +"I want a licking, I guess," she said. + +Farmer Ellison's face relaxed into a grim smile. + +"A licking," he repeated. "Well, I reckon you deserve it, all right, if +not for one thing, then for something else." + +"I guess I do," said Bess Thornton. + +"Well, what do you want me to do about it?" queried Farmer Ellison, +looking puzzled. "Can't old Mother Thornton give it to you?" + +"No," replied the girl. "She's sick. And besides, she didn't know what I +was going to do. I did it all myself, early this morning." + +Farmer Ellison looked up quickly. An expression of suspicion stole over +his face. He looked at the girl's bedraggled dress. + +"What have you been up to?" he asked, sternly. + +"I've been stealing," replied the girl. "'Twas--'twas--" + +Farmer Ellison sprang up from his seat. + +"'Twas you, then, down by the shore?" he cried. "Confound it! I knew I +didn't need them burdock bitters all the time I was takin' 'em. Stealing +my trout, eh? Don't tell me you caught any?" + +"Only three." + +The girl half whispered the reply. + +Farmer Ellison seized the girl by an arm and shook her roughly. + +"Bring them back!" he cried. "Where are they?" + +"I can't," stammered the girl; "they're cooked." + +He shook her again. + +"You ate my trout!" he cried. "Pity they didn't choke you. Didn't you +feel like choking--eating stolen trout, eh?" + +"Gran' did," said the girl, ruefully. "But 'twas a bone, sir. She didn't +know they were stolen till I told her." + +The sound of Farmer Ellison's wrathful voice had rung through the house, +and at this moment a woman entered the room. At the sight of her, Bess +Thornton suddenly darted away from the man's grasp, ran to Mrs. Ellison, +hid her face in her dress and sobbed. + +"I didn't think 'twas so bad," she said. "I--I won't do it again--ever." + +Mrs. Ellison, whose face expressed a tenderness in contrast to the +hardness of her husband's, stroked the girl's hair softly, seated +herself in a rocking chair, and drew the girl close to her. + +"What made you take the fish?" she inquired softly. + +"Well, gran' said we ought to have the whole place by rights--" + +Mrs. Ellison directed an inquiring glance at her husband. + +"She's been complaining that way ever since I bought it," he said. + +"And gran' was sick and I thought she'd like some of the trout," +continued the girl. "She's got rheumatics and can't work this week, you +know." + +"But wouldn't it have been better to ask?" queried Mrs. Ellison, kindly. +"Didn't you feel kind of as though it was wrong, eating something you +had no right to take?" + +"I didn't," answered the girl, promptly. "I didn't eat any. I was going +to, though, till gran' said what she did--" + +"Then you haven't had anything to eat to-day?" asked Mrs. Ellison, +feeling a sudden moisture in her own eyes. + +"No," said the girl. + +"And what makes your dress so wet? Did you fall in?" + +"No-o-o," exclaimed the girl. "I swam the pool. And I did it all the way +under water. I didn't think I could, and I almost died holding my breath +so long. But I did it." + +There was a touch of pride in her tone. + +"James," said Mrs. Ellison. "Leave her to me. I'll say all that's +needed, I don't think she'll do it again." + +"Indeed I won't--truly," said Bess Thornton. + +Farmer Ellison walked to the door, with half a twinkle in his eye. +"Clear across the pool under water," he muttered to himself. "Sure +enough, I didn't need them burdock bitters." + +A few minutes later, Bess Thornton, seated at the breakfast table in the +Ellison home, was eating the best meal she had had in many a day. A +motherly-looking woman, setting out a few extra dainties for her, wiped +her eyes now and again with a corner of her apron. + +"She'd have been about her age," she whispered to herself once softly, +and bent and gave the girl a kiss. + +When Bess Thornton left the house, she carried a basket on one arm that +made Grannie Thornton stare in amazement when she looked within. + +"No, no," she said, all of a tremble, as the girl drew forth some of the +delicacies, and offered them to her. "Not a bit of it for me. I'll not +touch it. You can. And see here, don't go up on the hill again, do you +hear? Keep away from the Ellisons'." + +She had such a strange, excited, almost frightened way with her that the +child urged her no further, but put the basket away, put of her sight. + +"Mrs. Ellison asked me to come again," she said to herself, sighing. "I +don't see why gran' should care." + + + + +CHAPTER V + +SOME CAUSES OF TROUBLE + + +It was early of a Saturday afternoon, warm and sultry. Everything in the +neighbourhood of the Half Way House seemed inclined to drowsiness. Even +the stream flowing by at a little distance moved as though its waters +were lazy. The birds and the cattle kept their respective places +silently, in the treetops and beneath the shade. Only the flies, buzzing +about the ears of Colonel Witham's dog that lay stretched in the +dooryard, were active. + +They buzzed about the fat, florid face of the colonel, presently, as he +emerged upon the porch, lighted his after-dinner pipe and seated himself +in a big wooden arm-chair. But the annoyance did not prevent him from +dozing as he smoked, and, finally, from dropping off soundly to sleep. + +He enjoyed these after-dinner naps, and the place was conducive to them. +The long stretch of highway leading up from Benton had scarcely a +country wagon-wheel turning on it, to stir the dust to motion. In the +distance, the mill droned like a big beehive. Near at hand only the fish +moved in the stream--the fish and a few rowboats that swung gently at +their ropes at the end of a board-walk that led from the hotel to the +water's edge. + +The colonel slumbered on. But, far down the road, there arose, +presently, a cloud of dust, amid which there shone and glittered flashes +of steel. Then a line of bicyclists came into view, five youths, with +backs bent and heads down, making fast time. + +On they came with a rush and whirr, the boy in front pointing in toward +the Half Way House. The line of glistening, flying wheels aimed itself +fair at Colonel Witham's dog, who roused himself and stood, growling +hoarsely, with ears set back and tail between his legs. + +Then the screeching of five shrill whistles smote upon the summer +stillness, the wheels came to an abrupt stop, and the five riders +dismounted at a flying leap at the very edge of Colonel Witham's porch. +The colonel, startled from sweet repose by the combined noise of +whistles, buzzing of machines, shouts of the five riders and the yelping +of his frightened dog, awoke with a gasp and a momentary shudder of +alarm. He was enlightened, if not pacified, by a row of grinning faces. + +"Why, hello, Colonel Witham," came a chorus of voices. "Looks like old +times to see you again. Thought we'd stop off and rest a minute." + +Colonel Witham, sitting bolt upright in his chair, and mopping the +perspiration from his brow with an enormous red handkerchief, glared at +them with no friendly eyes. + +"Oh, you did, hey!" he roared. "Well, why didn't you bring a dynamite +bomb and touch that off when you arrived? Lucky for you that dog didn't +go for you. He'll take a piece out of some of you one of these days." +(Colonel Witham did not observe that the dog, at this moment, tail +between legs, was flattening himself out like a flounder, trying to +squeeze himself underneath the board walk.) "What do you want here, +anyway?" + +"Some bottled soda, Colonel," said the youngest boy, in a tone that +would seem to indicate that the colonel was their best friend. "Bottled +soda for the crowd. My treat." + +"Bottled monkey-shines and tomfoolery!" muttered Colonel Witham, arising +slowly from his chair. "I wish it would choke that young Joe Warren. +Never saw him when he wasn't up to something." + +But he went inside with them and served their order; scowling upon them +as they drank. + +"What are you doing?" he asked. + +"Making a fifty mile run, Colonel," replied one of the boys, whose +features indicated that he was an elder brother of the boy who had +previously spoken. "Tom and Bob--you remember them--are setting the pace +on their tandem for Arthur and Joe and me. Whew, but we came up +a-flying. Well, good day, we're off. You may see Tim Reardon by and by. +We left him down the road with a busted tire." + +They were away, with a shout and a whirl of dust. + +"Hm!" growled the colonel. "I'll set the dog on Tim Reardon if he comes +up the way they did. Here, Caesar, come here!" + +The colonel gave a sharp whistle. + +But Caesar, a yellow mongrel of questionable breeds, did not appear. A +keen vision might have seen this canine terror to evildoers poke a +shrinking muzzle a little way from beneath the board walk, emit a +frightened whine and disappear. + +Colonel Witham dozed again, and again slumber overtook him. He did not +stir when Grannie Thornton, recovered from her attack of rheumatism, +appeared at a window and shook a table-cloth therefrom; nor when Bess +Thornton, dancing out of the doorway, whisked past his chair and seated +herself at the edge of the piazza. + +The girl's keen blue eyes perceiving, presently, an object in the +distance looking like a queer combination of boy and bicycle, she ran +out from the dooryard as it approached. Tim Reardon, an undersized, +sharp-eyed youngster, rather poorly dressed and barefoot, wheeling his +machine laboriously along, was somewhat of a mournful-looking figure. +The girl held up a warning hand as he approached. + +"Hello," said the boy. "What's the matter?" + +The girl pointed at the sleeping colonel. + +"Said he'd set the dog on you if you came around the way the others +did," replied Bess Thornton. "They woke him up. My! wasn't he mad? +Here," she added, handing a small box to the boy, "George Warren left +this for you. Said they wanted to make time. That's why they didn't stop +for you." + +"Thanks," said the boy. "Thought I'd got to walk clear back to Benton. +But I was going to have a swim first. Guess I'll have it, anyway. It's +hot, walking through this dust." + +"I'll tell you where to go," said the girl. "Do you know what's fun? See +that tree way up along shore there, the one that hangs out over the +water? Well, I climb that till it bends down, and then I get to swinging +and jump." + +Tim Reardon gave her an incredulous glance, with one eye half closed. + +"Oh, I don't care whether you believe it or not," said the girl. "But +I'll show you some time. Can't now. Got to wash dishes. Don't wake him +up, or you'll catch it." + +She disappeared through the doorway, and Tim Reardon, leaving his wheel +leaning against a corner of the house, went up along shore. In another +half hour he returned, took from his pocket the box the girl had given +to him, got therefrom an awl, a bottle of cement and some thin strips of +rubber, and began mending the punctured tire of the bicycle. The tire +was already somewhat of a patched affair, bearing evidences of former +punctures and mendings. + +"It's Jack's old wheel," he remarked by way of explanation to Bess +Thornton, who had reappeared and was interestedly watching the +operation. "He's going to give me one of his new tires," he added, "the +first puncture he gets." + +"Why don't you put a tack in the road?" asked the girl promptly. + +Tim Reardon grinned. "Not for Jack," he said. + +"Say," asked the girl, "what's Witham mad with those boys about? Why +did he send 'em out of the hotel the other night?" + +"Oh, that's a long story," replied Tim Reardon; "I can't tell you all +about it. Witham used to keep the hotel down to Southport, and he was +always against the boys, and now and then somebody played a joke on him. +Then, when his hotel burned, he thought the boys were to blame; but Jack +Harvey found the man that set the fire, and so made the colonel look +foolish in court." + +But at this moment a yawn that sounded like a subdued roar indicated +that Colonel Witham was rousing from his nap. He stretched himself, +opened his eyes blankly, and perceived the boy and girl. + +"Well," he exclaimed, "you're here, eh? Wonder you didn't come in like a +wild Indian, too. What's the matter?" + +"Got a puncture," said Little Tim. + +The colonel, having had the refreshment of his sleep, was in a better +humour. He was a little interested in the bicycle. + +"Queer what new-fangled ideas they get," he said. "That's not much like +what I used to ride." + +Little Tim looked up, surprised. + +"Why, did you use to ride a wheel?" he asked. + +"Did I!" exclaimed Colonel Witham, reviving old recollections, with a +touch of pride in his voice. "Well, now I reckon you wouldn't believe I +used to be the crack velocipede rider in the town I came from, eh?" + +Little Tim, regarding the colonel's swelling waist-band and fat, puffy +cheeks, betrayed his skepticism in looks rather than in speech. Colonel +Witham continued. + +"Yes, sir," said he, "there weren't any of them could beat me in those +days. Why, I've got four medals now somewhere around, that I won at +county fairs in races. 'Twasn't any of these wire whirligigs, either, +that we used to ride. Old bone-shakers, they were; wooden wheels and a +solid wrought iron backbone. You had to have the strength to make that +run. Guess some of these spindle-legged city chaps wouldn't make much of +a go at that. I've got the old machine out in the shed there, somewhere. +Like to see it?" + +"I know where it is," said Bess Thornton. "I can ride it." + +"You ride it!" exclaimed Colonel Witham, staring at her in amazement. +"What?" + +"Yes," replied the girl; "but only down hill, though. It's too hard to +push on the level. I'll go and get it." + +"Well, I vum!" exclaimed Colonel Witham, as the girl started for the +shed. "That girl beats me." + +"Look out, I'm coming," called a childish voice, presently. + +The door of the shed was pushed open, and Bess Thornton, standing on a +stool, could be seen climbing into the saddle of what resembled closely +a pair of wagon wheels connected by a curving bar of iron. She steadied +herself for a moment, holding to the side of the doorway; then pushed +herself away from it, came down the plank incline, and thence on to the +path leading from the elevation on which the shed stood, at full speed. +Her legs, too short for her feet to touch the pedals as they made a +complete revolution, stuck out at an angle; but she guided the wheel and +rode past Tim Reardon and the colonel, triumphantly. When the wheel +stopped, she let it fall and landed on her feet, laughing. + +"Here it is, Colonel Witham," said she, rolling it back to where he +stood. "Let's see you ride it." + +Colonel Witham, grasping one of the handle-bars, eyed the velocipede +almost longingly. + +"No," he said. "I'm too old and stout now. Guess my riding days are +over. But I used to make it go once, I tell you." + +"Go ahead, get on. You can ride it," urged Tim Reardon. "It won't +break." + +"Oh no, it will hold me, all right," said Colonel Witham. "We didn't +have any busted tires in our day. Good iron rim there that'll last for +ever." + +"Just try it a little way," said Bess Thornton. + +"I never saw anybody ride that had won medals," said Tim Reardon. + +Colonel Witham's pride was rapidly getting the better of his discretion. + +"Oh, I can ride it," he said, "only it's--it's kind of hot to try it. +Makes me feel sort of like a boy, though, to get hold of the thing." + +The colonel lifted a fat leg over the backbone and put a ponderous foot +on one pedal, while the drops of perspiration began to stand out on his +forehead. + +"Get out of the way," he shouted. "I'll just show you how it +goes--hanged if I don't." + +The colonel had actually gotten under way. + +Little Tim Reardon doubled up with mirth, and rolled over on the grass. + +"Looks just like the elephant at the circus," he cried. + +"Sh-h-h, he'll hear you," whispered Bess Thornton. + +Colonel Witham was certainly doing himself proud. A new thrill of life +went through him. He thought of those races and the medals. It was an +unfortunate recollection, for it instilled new ambitions within him. He +had ridden up the road a few rods, had made a wide turn and started +back; and now, as he neared the hotel once more, his evil genius +inspired him to show the two how nicely he could make a shorter turn. + +He did it a little too quickly; the wheel lurched, and Colonel Witham +felt he was falling. He twisted in the saddle, gave another sharp yank +upon the handle-bars--and lost control of the wheel. A most unfortunate +moment for such a mishap; for now, as the wheel righted, it swerved to +one side and, with increased speed, ran upon the board walk that led +down to the boat-landing. + +The walk descended at quite a decided incline to the water's edge. It +was raised on posts above the level of the ground, so that a fall from +it would mean serious injury. There was naught for the luckless colonel +to do but sit, helpless, in the saddle and let the wheel take its +course. + +Helpless, but not silent. Beholding the fate that was inevitable, the +colonel gave utterance to a wild roar of despair, which, together with +the rumbling of the wheels above his head, drove forth his dog from his +hiding-place. Caesar, espying this new and extraordinary object rattling +down the board walk, and mindful of the agonizing shrieks of his master, +himself pursued the flying wheel, yelping and barking and adding his +voice to that of Colonel Witham. + +There was no escape. The heavy wheel, bearing its ponderous weight of +misery, and pursued to the very edge of the float by the dog, plunged +off into the water with a mighty splash. Colonel Witham, clinging in +desperation to the handle bars, sank with the wheel in some seven feet +of water. Then, amid a whirl and bubbling of the water like a boiling +spring, the colonel's head appeared once more above the surface. Choking +and sputtering, he cried for help. + +"Help! help!" he roared. "I'm drowning. I can't swim." + +"No, but you'll float," bawled Little Tim, who was darting into the shed +for a rope. + +Indeed, as the colonel soon discovered, now that he was once more at the +surface, it seemed really impossible for him to sink. He turned on his +back and floated like a whale. + +And at this moment, most opportunely, there appeared up the road the +line of bicyclists returning. + +They were down at the shore shortly--Tom Harris, Bob White, George, +Arthur and Joe Warren--just as Little Tim emerged from the shed, with an +armful of rope. + +"Here, you catch hold," he said, "while I make fast to the colonel." The +next moment, he was overboard, swimming alongside Colonel Witham. + +"Look out he don't grab you and drown you both," called George Warren. + +Little Tim was too much of a fish in the water to be caught that way. +The most available part of Colonel Witham to make fast to, as he floated +at length, was his nearest foot. Tim Reardon threw a loop about that +foot, then the other; and the boys ashore hauled lustily. + +The colonel, more than ever resembling a whale--but a live one, inasmuch +as he continued to bellow helplessly--came slowly in, and stranded on +the shore. They drew him well in with a final tug. + +"Here, quit that," he gurgled. "Want to drag me down the road?" The +colonel struggled to his feet, his face purple with anger. + +"Now get out of here, all of you!" he roared. "There's always trouble +when you're around. Tim Reardon, you keep away from here, do you +understand?" + +"Yes sir," replied Tim Reardon, wringing his own wet clothes; and then +added, with a twinkle in his eyes, "but ain't you going to show us those +medals, Colonel Witham?" + +It was lucky for Tim Reardon that he was fleet of foot. The colonel made +a rush at him, but Tim was off down the road, leaping into the saddle +of his mended wheel, followed by the others. + +"Don't you want us to raise the velocipede, so you can ride some more?" +called young Joe Warren, as he mounted his own wheel. + +The colonel's only answer was a wrathful shake of his fist. + +"Colonel Witham," said Grannie Thornton, as her employer entered the +hotel, a few minutes later, "here's a note for you, from Mr. Ellison. +Guess he wants to see you about something." + +"Hm!" exclaimed the colonel, opening the note, and dampening it much in +doing so, "Jim Ellison, eh? More of his queer business doings, I reckon. +He's a smart one, he is," he added musingly, as he waddled away to his +bed-room to change his dripping garments; then, spying his own face in +the mirror: 'What's the matter with you, Daniel Witham? Aren't you +smart, too? In all these dealings, isn't there something to be made?' + +Colonel Witham, rearraying his figure in a dry suit of clothing, was to +be seen, a little later, on the road to the mill, walking slowly, and +thinking deeply as he went along. He was so engrossed in his reflections +that he failed to notice the approach of a carriage until it was close +upon him. He looked up in surprise as a pleasant, gentle voice accosted +him. + +"Good afternoon, Colonel Witham," it said. + +The speaker was a middle-aged, sweet faced woman--the same that had +appeased the wrath of her husband against Bess Thornton. She leaned out +of the carriage now and greeted Colonel Witham with cordiality. + +"Oh, how-dye-do," replied Colonel Witham abruptly, and returning her +smile with a frown. He passed along without further notice of her +greeting, and she started up the horse she had reined in, and drove +away. + +Only once did Colonel Witham turn his head and gaze back at the +disappearing carriage. Then he glowered angrily. + +"I don't want your smiles and fine words," he muttered. "You were too +good for me once. Just keep your fine words to yourself. I don't want +'em now." + +Colonel Witham, in no agreeable mood, went on and entered at the office +door of the mill. A tall, sharp-faced man, seated on a stool at a high +desk, looked up at his entrance. One might see at a glance that here was +a man who looked upon the world with a calculating eye. No fat and +genial miller was James Ellison. No grist that came from his mill was +likely to be ground finer than a business scheme put before him. He eyed +Colonel Witham sharply. + +"Aha, Colonel," he exclaimed, in a slightly sneering tone, "bright and +cheery as ever, I see. I thought I'd like to have you drop in and +scatter a little sunshine. Sit down. Have a pipe?" + +Colonel Witham, accepting the proffered clay and and the essentials for +loading it, sat back in a chair, and puffed away solemnly, without +deigning to answer the other's bantering. + +James Ellison continued figuring at his desk. + +"Well," said Colonel Witham after some ten minutes had passed, "Suppose +you didn't get me down here just to smoke. What d'ye want?" + +"Oh, I'm coming to that right away," replied Ellison, still writing. +"You know what I want, I guess." He turned abruptly in his seat, and his +keen face shaded with anger. He pointed a long lean finger in the +direction of the town of Benton. "You know 'em, Dan Witham," he said, +"as well as I do. Though you didn't get skinned as I did. You didn't go +down to town, as I did twenty odd years ago, with eight thousand +dollars, and come back cleaned out. You didn't invest in mines and +things they said were good as gold, and have 'em turn out rubbish. You +didn't lose a fortune and have to start all over again. But you know em, +eh?" + +Colonel Witham nodded assent, and added mentally, "Yes, and I know you, +too. Benton don't have the only sharp folks." + +"And now," added James Ellison, "when I've got some of it back by hard +work, you know how I keep it from them, and from others, too. Well, +here's some more of the papers. The mill and a good part of the farm and +some more land 'round here go to you this time. All right, eh? You get +your pay on commission. Here's the deeds conveying it all to you--for +valuable consideration--valuable consideration, see?" + +The miller gave a prodigious wink at his visitor, and laughed. + +"You don't mind being thought pretty comfortably fixed, eh--all these +properties put in your name? Don't do you any harm, and people around +here think you're mighty smart. Your deeds from me are all recorded, eh? +People look at the record, and what do they see? All this stuff in your +name. Well, what do I get out of that? You know. There are some claims +they don't bother me with, because they think I'm not so rich as I am. +There's property out of their reach, if anything goes wrong with some +business I'm in. + +"Why? Well, we know why, all right, you and I. Here's the deeds of the +same property which you give back to me. Only I don't have them put on +record. I keep them hidden--up my sleeve--clear up my sleeve, don't I?" + +"You keep 'em hidden all right, I guess," responded Colonel Witham; and +made a mental observation that he'd like to know where the miller really +did hide them. + +"So here they are," continued the miller. "It's a little more of the +same game. The property's all yours--and it isn't. You'll oblige, of +course, for the same consideration?" + +Colonel Witham nodded assent, and the business was closed. + +And, some time later, as Colonel Witham plodded up the road again, he +uttered audibly the wish he had formed when he had sat in the miller's +office. + +"I'd like to know where he keeps those deeds hidden," he said, +apparently addressing his remark to a clump of weeds that grew by the +roadside. The weeds withholding whatever information they may have had +on the question, Colonel Witham snipped their heads off with a vicious +sweep of his stick, and went on. "I don't know as it would do me any +good to know," he continued, "but I'd just like to know, all the same." + +And James Ellison, his visitor departed, wandered about for some time +through the rooms of his mill. One might have thought, from the sly and +confidential way in which he drew an eye-lid down now and again, as he +passed here and there, that the wink was directed at the mill itself, +and that the crazy old structure was really in its owner's confidence; +that perhaps the mill knew where the miller hid his papers. + +At all events, James Ellison, sitting down to his supper table that +evening, was in a genial mood. + +"Lizzie," he said, smiling across the table at his wife, "I saw an old +beau of yours to-day--Dan Witham. He didn't send any love to you, +though." + +"No," responded Mrs. Ellison, and added, somewhat seriously, "and he has +no love for you, either. I hope you don't have much business dealing +with him." + +"Ho, he's all right, is Dan Witham," returned her husband. "He's gruff, +but he's not such a bad sort. Those old times are all forgotten now." + +"I'm not so certain of that, James," said Mrs. Ellison. + + + + +CHAPTER VI + +CAPTURING AN INDIAN + + +Tim Reardon, a barefoot, sunburned urchin, who might be perhaps twelve +years old, judging from his diminutive figure, and anywhere from that to +fifteen, by the shrewdness of his face, stood, with arms akimbo, gazing +in rapturous admiration at a bill-board. It was a gorgeous and thrilling +sight that met his eyes. Lines in huge coloured letters, extending +across the top of the board, proclaimed the subject of the display: + + Bagley & Blondin's Gigantic Circus + Two Colossal Aggregations in One + Stupendous--Startling--Scintillating + Moral--Scientific + Applauded by all the Crowned Heads of Europe. + +The pictorial nightmare that bore evidence to the veracity of these +assertions was indeed wonderful and convincing. A trapeze performer, +describing a series of turns in the air that would clearly take him +from one end of the long bill-board to the other, was in manifest +peril, should he miss the swinging trapeze at the finish of his +flight, of landing within the wide open jaws of an enormous +hippopotamus--designated in the picture as, "The Behemoth of Holy Writ." +An alligator, sitting upright, and bearing the legend that he was one of +the "Sacred Crocodiles of the Nile, to which the Indian Mothers Throw +Their Babes," was leering with a hopeful smile at the proximity of a +be-spangled lady equestrian, balanced on the tip of one toe upon the +back of a galloping horse. + +The jungle element was generously supplied by troops of trumpeting +elephants, tigers with tails lashing, bloated serpents dangling +ominously from the overhanging tree branches, while bands of lean and +angular monkeys jabbered and chattered throughout all the picture. + +Little Tim heaved a sigh. + +"Gee!" he exclaimed. "I'd like to see that Royal Bengal tiger that ate +up three of his keepers alive." + +Little Tim, fired with the very thought, and emulative of an athlete in +distorted attitude and gaudy fleshings, proceeded to turn himself upside +down and walk upon his hands, waving his bare feet fraternally at the +pictured gymnasts. He found himself suddenly caught by the ankles, +however, and slung roughly across someone's shoulder. + +"Hello, Tim," said his captor, good naturedly, "going to join the +circus?" + +Little Tim grinned, sheepishly. + +"Guess not, Jack," he replied. "Say, wouldn't you like to see that tiger +eat up a keeper?" + +Jack Harvey laughed, setting Tim on his feet again. + +"I'll bet that tiger isn't as great a man-eater as old Witham," he said. +"They put that in to make people think he's awful fierce, so they'll go +to the show. You going?" + +Tim Reardon, thrusting his hands into his pockets and closing his +fingers on a single five cent piece, three wire nails and a broken +bladed jack-knife, looked expressively at Harvey. + +"I dunno," he replied. "P'raps so." + +Jack Harvey took the hint. + +"Come along with us," he said. "Where's the rest of the crew?" + +"They're going--got the money," said Tim. + +Harvey looked surprised. His crew, so called because the three other +members of it besides Tim Reardon had sailed with him on his sloop in +Samoset bay, were generally hard up. + +"All right," said Harvey, "you can go with Henry Burns and George Warren +and me. Come on. Let's go down town and see the parade." + +The blare of trumpets and the clashing of brass was shaking the very +walls of the city of Benton. A steam calliope, shrieking a tune +mechanically above the music of the band and the roar of carts, was +frightening farmers' horses to the point of frenzy. Handsome, sleek +horses, stepping proudly, were bearing their gaily dressed riders in +cavalcade. And the rumble of the heavy, gilded carts gave an undertone +to the sound. Bagley & Blondin's great moral and scientific show was +making its street parade, prior to the performance. + +Tim Reardon stood between Henry Burns and Jack Harvey on a street +corner, with George Warren close by. Tim Reardon's eyes seemed likely to +pop clean out of his head. + +"There he is! There he is, Jack!" he exclaimed all at once, fairly +gasping with excitement. + +"Who is?" asked Harvey. + +"The man-eating tiger," cried Tim. "It says so on the cage." + +Harvey chuckled. "I'd like to throw you in there, Tim," he said. "He'd +be scared to death of you. Here's the real thing coming, though. Say, +what do you think of that?" + +The float that approached was certainly calculated to fire the brain of +youth. On the platform, open to view from all sides, there was set up in +the centre the trunk of a small tree, to which was securely bound, by +hand and foot, the figure of a huntsman, clad in garb of skins, buckskin +leggings and moccasins. A powder horn was slung picturesquely from one +shoulder, and a great hunting-knife--alas useless to him now--stuck +conspicuously in his belt. + +Around this hapless captive there moved the figures of three savages, +their faces streaked with various hues of paint, their war-bonnets of +eagles' feathers flaunting, and wonderful to behold. Each bore in his +right hand a gleaming tomahawk, which now and then was raised menacingly +toward the unfortunate huntsman. Again one would put his hand to his +lips, and a shrill war-whoop would rival the screaming of the steam +calliope. + +Close by, a wigwam, of painted skins thrown over a light frame-work of +poles, added to the picture. At the entrance to this there stood now a +man in ordinary dress, who thus addressed the crowd through a megaphone: + +"Ladies and Gentlemen, this historical representation which you now see +before you is a scene from real life. It represents the perils of the +plainsman in the midst of bands of cruel savages. It shows a captive +bound to the stake and about to be put to torture. (Increased activity +on the part of the Indians, and a suggestive squirming on the part of +the prisoner.) + +"Ladies and Gentlemen, this daring scout was one of General Miles's most +trusted and heroic followers. (Name not mentioned.) He was captured by +these three chiefs, Leaping Panther, Crazy Bear and Red Bull--a kinsman +of the famous Sitting Bull--after one of the most desperate struggles +ever known, and after twice disarming his adversaries and nearly killing +them all. (Revengeful gestures on the part of the three toward the +captive.) + +"Ladies and Gentlemen, the continuation of this thrilling adventure, the +rescue of this famous scout and the capture of Leaping Panther, Crazy +Bear and Red Bull, will be enacted under canvas at the great Bagley & +Blondin moral and scientific show this afternoon and evening." + +"Hi! yi!" yelled Little Tim, "Real Injuns, Jack. Look at the big one, +with the red streak across his chin." + +Tim's shrill voice rang out above the noise of the procession. Perhaps +it may have penetrated, even, to the group upon the float; for, at that +moment, the great chief, Red Bull--kinsman to the sitting +variety--turned and shook his tomahawk in the direction of the group of +boys. Little Tim squealed in an ecstasy of pleasurable alarm. + +"Look out; he'll get you, Tim," said George Warren. + +"Gee!" exclaimed Little Tim. "Bet I wouldn't like to be tied to that +tree, though." + +"Why not?" asked Jack Harvey, grinning at Tim's serious expression. + +"Because, how'd I know they wouldn't forget some time and go ahead and +really scalp me? Oh, they might do it, all right. You needn't laugh. I +wouldn't like to be mas-sick-ered the way they were at that Fort +some-thing-or-other in the Last of the Mohigginses." + +"Ho, you mean the 'Last of the Mohicans,'--the book I told you about, +eh?" said Henry Burns--"all about Uncas and the rest." + +"That's it," cried Little Tim. "Wouldn't I like to be Un-cuss, though, +and scalp Red Bull." + +"Fine!" laughed Henry Burns. "Come on, we'll go up to the circus +grounds." + +To Little Tim the afternoon was one glorious dream; a dream through +which there pranced horses in bright trappings, ridden by be-spangled +men and women; chariots rumbled in mad races; bicyclists shot down +fearful inclines; and the whole proceedings made glad to the heart of +the youngster by the roaring of wild beasts. + +The impending torture of Gen. Miles's scout was happily averted by the +timely arrival of a band of mounted soldiers, whose cracking rifles laid +in the dust the painted warriors--barely in time to save Little Tim, +also, from utter collapse. He emerged from the tent, some hours later, +wild eyed; so freighted down with red lemonade and peanuts that if +dropped overboard he must surely have sunk without a struggle. + +Evening came, and with it the night performance. Night found Little Tim +again on the grounds. True, he had no money for a ticket, but it was a +delight to wander about the grounds; to climb upon the great carts and +be chased off by angry circus men. The gaudy canvases, stretched here +and there, reminded him of what he had seen inside; and he eyed them +affectionately. + +Once there was a thrill of excitement for him, when the Indian warriors, +their evening act over, hurried past him in a group and disappeared +within the opening of a small tent, on the outskirts of the grounds. + +Time passed, and it had struck nine o'clock a half hour ago. The show +would be over in half an hour more. Young Joe Warren, who had seen the +main circus in the afternoon and who was strolling in and about the +side-shows, suddenly found himself accosted by Tim Reardon, who gasped +out a greeting as though the words choked him. + +"Hello, Tim," replied Joe, eying him with astonishment. "Say, what's the +matter? Any of the snakes got loose? You look as though they were after +you." + +Tim was breathless, sure enough, as though he were being pursued. His +very eyes seemed to have grown larger, and he was hardly able to stand +still long enough to reply. + +"Come on, Joe," he whispered. "I'll show you something. Better'n snakes, +a big sight. Easy now, don't talk. Follow me." + +Young Joe Warren, a boy slightly taller than Tim and perhaps a year +older, ready at all times for a lark, followed his barefoot guide, but +on the look-out, half suspecting it was one of Tim's tricks. They +threaded their way through a maze of carts and circus paraphernalia, out +to the edge of the grounds; past a line of small tents, used as the +encampment of the performers, to a grove of maple trees skirting the +field. + +"I say, Tim, what's up, anyway?" inquired Joe Warren presently. "You +needn't think you can fool me--" + +"Sh-h-h," warned Tim, turning and raising a hand to silence his +companion. "Here he is." + +He took a few steps forward, grasped Joe Warren's arm, brought him to a +stand-still and pointed toward a figure that reclined upon a blanket +spread beneath a tree. + +"Well, what of it--what is it?" asked Joe Warren, "I don't see anything +but somebody asleep." + +Tim Reardon again gestured for silence and induced his companion to +approach nearer. Whereupon he pointed gleefully at the face of the +sleeper. Young Joe, bending down softly, beheld the painted features of +the great chief, Red Bull. + +"Hmph!" he exclaimed. "It's only one of the Injuns. Saw 'em at the show +this afternoon." + +Little Tim, in reply, seized Young Joe mysteriously by an arm, drew him +away a few paces and whispered something, excitedly. + +Young Joe gave a subdued roar. + +"Cracky!" he cried, doubling up. "Tim, you're the craziest youngster. +What put it into your head? We couldn't do it." + +"No, you and I couldn't," answered Tim; "but the whole of us could--Jack +Harvey and Henry Burns, and the rest of the fellers. Gee! Joe, just +think of it. A real live Injun--a live one-'twould be just like the Last +of the Mohigginses." + +"What would we do with him if we got him?" asked Joe. + +"Nothin'," replied Little Tim--"Oh, yes, we could,--take him off up +stream to the camp and--dance 'round him, like they do in the show." + +"Come on," said Joe Warren. "Let's find Jack and Henry Burns and +George. They won't do it, though." + +If one could have seen Henry Burns's eyes twinkle, when they had found +the three a few moments later, however, they would have thought +differently. + +"Tim, you're all right," he said. "But how could we get him away from +here?" + +"Why, get the wagon," said Young Joe. "Come on, George, will you? I'll +go down to the house for it, if you'll join. 'Twon't take more'n half an +hour. You find Tom and Bob; they're 'round somewhere. Then wait here +till I come back." + +Young Joe, reading a half consent in his elder brother's hesitation, +darted away. George Warren was not keen for it, however. + +"Tim, you and Joe are a couple of young idiots," he exclaimed. "We're +not going to do any such fool thing as that. We couldn't do it, in the +first place." + +"Yes we can," argued Little Tim. "He ain't got his tomahawk nor any +scalping knife. And he ain't very much bigger than Jack." + +Harvey drew himself up and felt of his muscle. + +"Tom and Bob could lick him, without the rest of us," continued Little +Tim. + +Tom and Bob, who had been added to the group, likewise flexed their +biceps and thought how strong they were. + +"I ain't afraid," said Harvey. + +"Nor I," said Tom and Bob, respectively. + +Thus they argued. A half hour went by, and the band inside the tent was +making loud music as a youth darted up to them, out of breath with +running. + +"Come on," cried Young Joe, softly. "I've got the wagon over back in the +grove, and some ropes, and some cloth. Come and take a look." + +To look was to yield. The sleeping, snoring figure of the great chief, +Red Bull, gave no signs of suspicious dreams when, some moments later, a +band of boys approached noiselessly the place where he lay. The moment +could not have been timed more opportunely for success. The circus was +about breaking up for the night, and the great tent was buzzing and +resounding with noise. + +A half dozen figures suddenly sprang forward upon the slumbering +chieftain. The arms of the dread Red Bull, seized respectively by Jack +Harvey and Tom Harris, were quickly bound behind him. A light rope, +wound securely about his ankles by George Warren, and made fast in +sailor fashion, rendered him further helpless; while, at the same time, +a long strip of cloth, procured by Young Joe for the purpose, and +swathed about his head, stifled his roars of rage and fright. Red Bull, +the great Indian chief, the terror of the plains, was most assuredly a +captive--an astounded and helpless Indian, if ever there was one. + +Borne on the sturdy shoulders of his pale-face captors, Red Bull, bound +and swathed, uttering smothered ejaculations through the cloth, was +conveyed to the waiting wagon and driven away. + +A little less than an hour from this time there arrived at the shore of +Mill Stream a strange party, the strangest beyond all doubt that had +come down to these shores since the days when the forefathers of circus +chiefs had skimmed its waters in their birch canoes, carrying their +captives not to pretended but to real torture. + +Two canoes, brought down from an old shed, were launched now and floated +close to shore. Into one of these was carried the helpless and enraged +Red Bull, where he was propped up against a thwart. In front of him, on +guard, squatted Little Tim. Jack Harvey and Henry Burns took their +places, respectively, at stern and bow, equipped with paddles. The +second canoe was hastily filled with the four others. They made a heavy +load for each canoe, and brought them down low in the water. + +"Easy now," cautioned Tom Harris, as the party started forth. "We're +well down to the gunwales. No monkeying, or we'll upset." + +They proceeded carefully and silently up stream, with the moon coming up +over the still water to light them on their way. + +A mile and a half up the stream, they paused where a shabby structure of +rough boards, eked out with odds and ends of shingle stuff, with a rusty +funnel protruding from the roof, showed a little back from shore, on a +cleared spot amid some trees. + +"Here's the camp," cried Harvey; and they grounded the canoes within its +shadow. + +The chief, Red Bull, clearly not resigned to his fate, but squirming +helplessly, was conveyed up the bank and set down against a convenient +stump. The canoes were drawn on shore, and the party gathered about him. + +"What are we going to do with him, anyway, now we've got him?" inquired +George Warren. + +"Oh, he's got to be tried by a war council," said Henry Burns; "and all +of us are scouts, and we've got to tell how many pale-faces he's +scalped, and then he's got to be sentenced to be put to torture and +scalped and--and all that sort of thing. And then we'll dance around him +and--and then by and by--well, I suppose we'll have to let him go. I +don't know just how, but we'll arrange that. But we've got to have a +fire first, to make it a real war council." + +They had one going shortly, down near the shore, and casting a weird +glare upon the scene. + +After a preliminary dance about their captive, in which they lent colour +to the picture by brandishing war-clubs and improvised tomahawks, they +sat in solemn council on the chief. + +"Fellow scouts," said Henry Burns, addressing his assembled followers, +"this is the great Indian chief, Magua, the dog of the Wyandots--" + +"Whoopee!" yelled Little Tim, "that's him. He killed Un-cuss, didn't he, +Henry?" + +"The brave scout has spoken well," replied Henry Burns. "This is the +cruel dog of the Wyandots; slayer of the brave Uncas; shot at by +Hawkeye, the friend of the Delawares--" + +"I thought you said he killed him--in the book," cried Little Tim. + +"Shut up, Tim," said Joe Warren. + +"He's alive again," declared Henry Burns, solemnly. "He was only +wounded. + +"Here is the cruel Huron," continued Henry Burns, "delivered into our +hands by that daring scout who knows no fear." + +Little Tim grinned joyously at this praise from his leader. + +"What shall we do with our captive?" solemnly inquired Henry Burns. +"Shall we show mercy to the slayer of the brave Uncas? Shall we be women +and let him go, to roam the forests and ravage the homes of our +settlers, or shall he be put to death?" + +"He must die," growled Scout Harvey. "The daring leader has spoken well. +Is it not so, men?" + +The doom of Red Bull, otherwise Magua, the dog of the Wyandots, was +declared. + +The death of the captive followed swiftly--in pantomime--the brave +scouts, under the leadership of Henry Burns, performing a series of +dances about the helpless one, accomplishing his end with imaginary +tomahawk blows. + +"Now he must be scalped," said Henry Burns. "What say you, men, shall we +cast the lot to see who takes the scalp of Magua, the great chief of the +Hurons?" + +It was done. The short stick was drawn by Little Tim--to his +inexpressible joy. + +"Take the scalping-knife, brave scout," said Henry Burns, handing him a +huge wooden affair, whittled out for the purpose. "The scalp of Magua +the chief shall hang at the cabin of Swift Foot, the scout who captured +him." + +Swift Foot advanced to perform the last act in the drama. It was a weird +and dreadful moment. The fire-light cast its flickering glow upon the +doomed chief, his captors and the executioner. The form of Magua was +seen to quiver, as though life was indeed not all extinct. + +Swift Foot performed his grim office with a flourish. The wooden +scalping-knife descended upon the gorgeous head-piece of the victim, +which the scout grasped with his other hand and pulled as he drew the +knife. + +But at this moment the form beneath the knife wriggled in the hands of +the executioner; lurched to one side, and the head-piece fell away, so +true to life that an involuntary shudder went through the group, as +though the act had really been accomplished. The flaunting head-piece of +eagle feathers fell indeed away, clutched in the hand of Little Tim. +And, at the same instant, by some loosening of the cloth, that, too, +dropped down, freeing the jaws of the Indian chief. + +To their amazement, the fire-light shone now not on the straight black +hair of an Indian, but upon a towsled top-knot of unmistakable red. +While from the parted lips of the figure there issued a sound that was +not of the child of the forest. + +"Tim Reardon, yer little divvle," cried the victim, glaring at the +astounded youth with unfeigned rage, "it's yerself I'll be takin the +hair off--yer little scallerwag--an the hide of yer, too. Sure an ye'll +be doin some lively dancin' around when I git me two hands on yer. +Scoutin' is it ye'll be doin? I'll scout ye and the likes of all er ye. +Lemme go, I tell yer,--" + +The scalping knife dropped from the palsied hand of Swift Foot, the +scout. He stood, glaring wildly at the outraged captive. + +"Danny O'Reilly!" he exclaimed, gasping for breath. "Oh, gimminy +crickets!" + +"Yes, an it's Danny O'Reilly that'll be scalpin' ye all over from head +to foot to-morrow," cried the captive, wriggling in his bonds. "Lemme +out er this, I tell yez. Sure an I've got a hand out now, and in a +minnit I'll be showin' the likes of ye what it is to take an honest man +away from his job with the circus." + +True enough, in some way, by his wriggling, Danny O'Reilly was rapidly +emerging, not only from his disguise as an Indian chief, but from his +bonds as well. Panic seized upon the brave scouts--a panic born of dread +of what might be in store in days to come. There was a rush to the +canoes; a hasty scrambling aboard; a frenzied launching of the craft, +and an ignominious flight from the place of execution. + +Five minutes later, one walking the highway leading up from Benton might +have beheld a strange figure, striding in to the city, breathing words +of wrath upon the night air; a figure clad in Indian finery, but +bearing the likeness beneath his war-paint of Daniel O'Reilly, a +stalwart labourer of Benton, for the time being a valuable accession to +the Bagley & Blondin great moral and scientific show. + + + + +CHAPTER VII + +A LONG RACE BEGUN + + +The circus remained two days longer in Benton, but there were certain +youths who kept away from it. A solemn oath of secrecy bound them as to +the reason why. Only Tim Reardon and Joe Warren couldn't resist the +temptation of stealing in among the wagons and watching for the +appearance of Danny O'Reilly in all the glory of his paint and feathers; +and, when they beheld a crowd of farmers gaze upon him admiringly as he +passed in for the Wild West performance, they nearly choked to death +with laughter, and couldn't have run if he had espied them. + +"Guess we won't get licked, after all," whispered Little Tim. "Not if we +keep dark, we won't. Danny's going on with the show up the state. He +told Jimmy Nolan, his cousin, and Jimmy told me. 'You'd never guessed he +wasn't an Injun,' says Jimmy to me, 'unless I'd told yer. Don't you ever +let on,' he says--and I like to died--hello, who's that coming?" + +Looking in the direction pointed out by Tim Reardon, Young Joe beheld an +old wagon, drawn by a lean horse, the seat of the wagon nearly bent +down to the axles on one side by the weight of the occupant. + +"Well, if it isn't Colonel Witham!" exclaimed Young Joe. "Didn't suppose +he'd pay to go to a circus." + +It seemed, however, that Colonel Witham had no immediate intention of +entering the main tent, for he proceeded to walk along the line of +smaller pavilions, where the side-shows proclaimed their many and +monstrous attractions. The canvas of one of these presently attracted +the colonel's attention, for he paused in front of it and stood studying +it contemplatively. + +Little Tim and Young Joe, stealing around in the rear of Colonel Witham, +beheld the object of his curiosity. There was a full length portrait on +the canvas, painted in brilliant colours, of a woman standing before an +urn from which vague vapours were arising. She held in one hand a wand, +with which she seemed in the act of conjuring forth a shadowy figure +from within the vapours. A little black satanic imp peered coyly over +her right shoulder. The inscription beneath her portrait read: + + Lorelei, the Sorceress. + Your Future Foretold--All Mysteries Explained--Your + Fate Read by the Stars--Hidden Things Revealed--Lost + Property Recovered. + +Something about the gaudy and pretentious sign seemed to fascinate +Colonel Witham. He walked past it once, reading it out of the corner of +one eye; but he went only a little way beyond, then turned and stopped +and surveyed it once more. He edged up to the canvas, sidled into the +entrance and disappeared. + +"Cracky!" cried Young Joe. "Isn't that rich? The colonel's going to have +his fortune told. Wow! wow! Suppose he's fallen in love?" + +"Not much," said Little Tim. "He wants to know where he's lost a dollar, +probably. Hello, Allan, come over here." + +Little Tim, in high glee, bawled out a greeting to a comrade, Allan +Harding, and conveyed the great news. The three stood awaiting the +colonel's reappearance. + +If they could have seen within the tent, they might have beheld Colonel +Witham, seated at a table upon which a light was thrown, its object +being not so much to illuminate the occupant of the seat as to obscure +his vision. It served to render more shadowy a vague figure that +occupied a little booth across which a gauze curtain hung, and from +which a voice now issued: + +"I see a dusty road, with fields running back from it," droned the +voice, with mysterious monotony, while the person behind the veil +scrutinized keenly the figure and dress of her visitor. "I see a great +house a little way back from the road, with--with what seems to be a +porch in front." + +"Yes, yes," said Colonel Witham, beginning to be impressed, ignoring the +fact that his person indicated his occupation and that the description +would answer almost every farmhouse along the road from Benton. + +"I see a figure sitting on the porch, and it resembles--yes, it is +yourself. You are thinking. There is something that you want to know. +You do not seem to be in love--" + +Colonel Witham snorted--and the hint to the sorceress was sufficient. + +"The stars are very clear on that point," continued the voice. "Your +mind is bent on more serious things. You have a business matter that +troubles you." + +"Wonderful!" ejaculated Colonel Witham, under his breath. "What else do +you see?" he inquired, eagerly. + +"Let me read the stars," continued the voice. "I see what looks like +another man." + +"Yes, yes," said Witham, forgetting in his eagerness that he had come +in, half skeptical, and meant to reveal nothing on his own part. "Is he +hiding anything?" + +"Wait--not so fast," replied the voice. Then, after a pause, "No, he is +not hiding anything." + +Colonel Witham's jaw dropped. + +"But," continued the sorceress, "there is something strange about him. +Wait, until I ask the spirits. They will tell something. Yes, he has +something already hidden. It is secreted. He has hidden something away. +Let me see, are they papers? They look like papers, but it is vague--" + +"And where are they hidden?" cried Colonel Witham, rising from his seat +eagerly. + +"The spirits will not say," answered the voice. "They seem to be angry +at something. Ah, they say they must have more money." + +"But I paid at the door," protested Colonel Witham. + +"Yes, but they are angry," said the voice. "They are angry at me for +taking so little for all I impart. They will have two dollars more, +or--yes, they are already disappearing--quick, or you will be too late." + +Colonel Witham groaned in anguish; slowly produced a shabby wallet, took +therefrom two greasy dollar bills and passed them across the table to an +outstretched hand. + +"Ah, they are coming back," said the voice. "Another moment and it would +have been too late. Now the stars are coming out clearer also. What is +it they tell? Ah, they say--listen--they say the man has concealed +papers that are wanted by you--concealed them _in his place of +business_." + +"Yes, yes, but where?" cried Colonel Witham. "In the safe, or around the +machinery--where-abouts?" + +"Listen," said the voice. "The spirits seem angry again--" + +"Let 'em be angry!" bellowed Colonel Witham. "They'll not get another +cent, confound 'em!" + +"Softly, softly," said the voice soothingly, "The spirits are greatly +agitated by loud words. And the stars are growing dim once more. The +spirits want no more money. They will tell you all; that is, all you +need to know. Listen: They say you will find the papers. But you must be +patient. They are hidden in a building where there are wheels turning +rapidly. And the spirits say the noise hurts their ears. They say, +though, that you must wait a little while, and then you will go into the +building and find them. That is all now. You will certainly get them. +The spirits are gone. They will not come back again to-day." + +The voice became silent; and Colonel Witham sat sheepishly in his chair. +Then he arose and walked slowly to the doorway. Had he been fooled? He +did not know. It was certainly strange: how the voice had described his +hotel--a big house with a porch--and he looking out--and the other +man--the man that had hidden the papers. No, there was something +remarkable about it all. He would surely get them. Colonel Witham +emerged from the tent. + +A chorus of three young voices greeted him: + +"Hello, Colonel Witham, been having your fortune told? Tell us what the +witch said, will you, colonel?" + +The colonel, gazing at the grinning faces of Tim and Joe Warren and +Allan Harding, flushed purple and raised his cane, wrathfully. + +"You little ras--" he began, but bethought himself and halted. "Ho, ho," +he said, looking half ashamed. "That was only a joke. Just took a +notion to see how funny it was. Here boy, give these lads some peanuts." +The colonel produced a dime from his trousers pocket. + +"Say, Tim," said Joe Warren some moments later, "I guess the colonel is +in love, after all. Ten cents' worth of peanuts! My, he's got it bad. +Let's go tell Henry Burns." + +A day or two following, toward the end of a pleasant afternoon, Tim +Reardon and his friend, Allan Harding, sat by the shore of Mill stream +watching a small fleet of canoes engaged in active manoeuvring. It was +at a point on the stream opposite the scene of the execution of the +great Indian chief, where the small cabin stood. Back from this a few +rods was an old barn, of which the boys of Benton rented a small section +for the storage of canoes and paddles. + +There were four canoes now upon the stream, each containing two +occupants. The eight canoeists were stripped for the work, showing a +gorgeous, if somewhat worn, array of sleeveless jerseys. The boys were +bronzed and healthy looking. Back and forth they darted across the +stream from shore to shore; or again, tried short spurts up and down +stream. + +"What are they going to do, Tim?" inquired his companion. + +"Don't you know?" queried Tim, by way of reply. "Say, it's going to be +the dandiest race ever. Start to-morrow morning right after breakfast +from in front of the cabin, and go straight up stream all day long. Only +when Jack blows the horn at noon everybody's got to stop and go ashore +and eat something. Then they start again when Jack blows for 'em to. And +paddle like everything all the afternoon till six o'clock. Then stop +again when Jack blows, and leave every canoe just where it is. + +"Then they get together and pitch tents and camp all night, and race +back next day. And everybody has got to come up to where the first canoe +is before they turn back. Henry Burns, he got it up. I'll bet he and +Jack win the race, too." + +"What'll you bet?" demanded Allan Harding, who had been eying the +canoeists sharply. + +"Thousand dollars," replied Tim, promptly, shoving his grimy hands into +pockets that contained several marbles, a broken-bladed knife and other +valuables. + +"Well," replied Allan Harding, cautiously, "mebbe you're right, but I +guess those fellows in the green canoe stand a good chance. Look how +strong they are. Say, who are they, anyway?" + +"Hm! Jack Harvey's stronger'n any of them," asserted Jim loyally, eying +his stalwart friend, as a canoe passed containing Harvey and Henry +Burns. "Those other chaps are Jim and John Ellison. They live up on the +farm above here. That's what makes 'em strong. But you know Jack. Didn't +he make us stand around, aboard the _Surprise_?" + +"Well, who's going to win, Tim?" called Tom Harris, as he skilfully +turned the canoe paddled by himself and Bob White, to avoid collision +with one which held George and Arthur Warren. + +"'Spose you think you are," answered Tim, "because you and Bob know how +to paddle best. Look out for Jack, though." + +Tom Harris laughed. "You'd bet on Jack if he had a broken arm," he said. + +"Count us last, I guess," said George Warren, good-naturedly. "We're +pretty new at it. Going in for the fun of it. Hello, who's this coming?" + +"Look out, Jim, it's Benny," exclaimed the elder of the Ellison +brothers. + +"I don't care. I won't stand any nonsense from him," replied his +brother, a handsome young fellow, athletic, but slightly smaller than +the other. + +Just what he meant by this remark was best explained when Benjamin +Ellison, strolling lazily down to the shore, paused in the process of +devouring a huge piece of molasses cake and said, in a sneering tone: + +"My, Johnnie, don't you and Jim look fine though, with city chaps? +What'll Uncle Jim say when I tell him--" + +He didn't get much further, for a canoe shot in to shore, and from the +bow of it sprang John Ellison. He seized his cousin by the shoulder. + +"You will tell tales, will you?" he cried. + +"Let me alone," replied the other, striving to shake off John Ellison's +grasp, but failing. Then he added, as the other canoes came in to shore +and the boys stepped out of them. "Can't you take a joke?" + +"No, not when you've done the same kind of a thing before," exclaimed +John Ellison. "Come on, fellows, in with him." + +Ready for any kind of a rough joke, several of the canoeists laid hands +on the unfortunate Benjamin. + +"Most too many against one," remarked Henry Burns, quietly. "Better let +him go." + +"No, he's got to be ducked," insisted John Ellison, whose anger was +aroused. + +"Well, only a little one," assented Harvey, grinning good-naturedly. So +they held the luckless youth heels over head and plunged his head +beneath the surface up to his coat-collar. He was sputtering wrathfully +as they lifted him out again. + +"Going to tell on us?" cried John Ellison. + +Benjamin Ellison glared at his cousin, doubtfully. + +"Once more," said John Ellison; and they put the victim's head under +again. + +He wasn't hurt and his clothes were still dry; but he was whining, and +he begged for mercy after the second ducking. + +"I won't tell," he said. + +"Honest?" + +"Honest Injun!" + +They let him go, and he departed hastily up through the field. + +"Tell, will he?" queried Harvey, as Benjamin departed. + +"Guess not," replied John Ellison. "He's got enough. He'd like to, +though. He don't like you city fellows any better than father does. He +hasn't got anything against you, either. He's too lazy to paddle. Come +on, Jim, let's follow him up. Well be on hand to-morrow, if there's no +trouble." + +The brothers took up their canoe and left the party. + +"They're all right, those Ellison chaps," said Harvey; "all except +Benny. He's no good. Come on, fellows, let's lock up, and no walking in +to town, remember. Running's good for the wind. Coming along, Tim?" + +"No, I'm going to sleep in the cabin," replied Tim Reardon, "and see the +start in the morning." + +"Guess I will, too," said Allan Harding. So the two remained, while the +troop of canoeists set off soon after, on the run back to Benton. + +The following morning, the first of a double holiday, came in bright and +clear. Little Tim and his companion were early astir, and cooking a mess +of oatmeal from the cabin's scanty stores over a cracked sheet iron +stove. + +"There they come," cried Tim presently, as the sounds of fresh, boyish +voices came from outside. "Hooray! I wish 'twas a yacht race, though. +Wouldn't I go along?" + +By nine o'clock the four canoes were fully equipped, drawn up in line +off the cabin, and the canoeists, paddles in hand, arms bared, and +sweaters tied around the thwarts, were ready to start. Jim and John +Ellison were there, a sturdy pair of farm lads; Jack Harvey, apparently +much over-matching his mate in physique, but with something in the +slighter figure of Henry Burns that indicated resource and staying +powers; Tom and Bob, old and hardened canoeists; and George and Arthur +Warren, clean-cut and athletic. + +"Ready for the horn!" called Harvey, holding his paddle in his right +hand and a long, tin horn in the other. + +"All ready!" sang out the canoeists. + +Harvey put the horn to his lips and blew a loud, full blast. The paddles +struck the water with a vigour, and the race was begun. + +The three canoes shot ahead of Harvey's at the start, owing to the +slight delay caused him in dropping the horn. + +"Let them lead, Jack," said Henry Burns, quietly. "It's a two days' +race. Take it easy." + +"That's so," said Harvey, half pausing in a stroke in which he had +started to exert his strength to the utmost. "Lucky I've got you. You +always keep cool. How do you manage to do it?" + +Henry Burns smiled, but made no reply. Instead, he pointed ahead to +where the Ellison brothers, putting their strength into their work, were +showing several rods of clear water between them and the two nearest +canoes, which were going along side by side. + +"They've got the race won in the first five minutes," said Henry Burns. +"See Tom and Bob take it easy till they get limbered up." + +The two thus indicated were, indeed, setting an example worthy to be +followed. They had started off at an easy, regular stroke, one which +they could keep up for hours and increase when they should see fit. They +were paying no attention to the leading canoe, but were exchanging a +word or two with the Warrens, who were striving to imitate their course +and pace. + +The first mile and a half that intervened between the starting point and +the Ellison dam was quickly covered. The Ellison boys, still leading, +were out on shore and carrying their canoe up the bank when the others +were still some rods away. It was a steep pitch of the shore, and Tom +and Bob, when they came to it, took it leisurely, saving their wind. The +others followed, in like fashion. Harvey and Henry Burns were the last +to make the portage. + +Once around the dam, on higher level, the canoes were launched again, +and the race continued. + +A little way up the shore from the dam, Tom and Bob and the Warren boys, +some distance ahead of the rear canoe, saw an odd little figure swinging +and swaying in the top of a birch tree overhanging the water. The +Ellison boys had passed her unnoticed. Her bit of skirt fluttering, and +her hair waving, showed that the occupant of this novel swing was a +girl. + +All at once, to their horror, she seemed to slip and fall. Down she came +from her perch, struck the water with a splash and sank beneath the +surface. + +Tom and Bob, driving their paddles into the water with desperate energy, +darted on ahead of the Warren boys, who bent to the paddles and shot +after them. The two canoes fairly flew through the water, while the four +occupants gazed anxiously ahead over the surface for signs of the girl's +reappearance. + +To their amazement, a laughing voice hailed them most unexpectedly, from +shore. They looked toward the bank, where, just emerging, dripping wet, +the girl was waving a hand to them. + +"How was that for a dive?" she called, pushing her wet hair back from +her eyes, and looking at them roguishly. + +"Bully!" exclaimed George Warren, wiping the drops of perspiration from +his forehead. "We thought you had fallen. My, but it gave me a scare." + +The girl's eyes danced with merriment. Then espying the other canoe +coming up, she called, "Hello, you back again? Look out Ellison don't +catch you." + +"It's Bess Thornton," said Henry Burns, and the two boys called out a +greeting to her. + +"Say, do you know Tim Reardon?" she asked abruptly. + +"Why, yes," answered Henry Burns. "Should say we did." + +"Well," said Bess Thornton, "tell him you saw me dive from the tree, +will you? He didn't think I dared, when I told him." Then she added, +laughing, "Don't get rained on again. But if you do, remember the mill." +And she danced away, wringing the water from the hem of her short +skirt. + +"Confound her!" exclaimed Harvey. "Look at the start Jim and John have +got. Come on, Henry." + +They pushed on again, Tom and Bob soon taking the lead of the three rear +canoes, with a strong steady stroke that meant business. The first canoe +was by this time a quarter of a mile ahead. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + +CONQUERING THE RAPIDS + + +This part of the stream, for some two miles above the Ellison dam, was +deep, still water, lying between quite steep banks, and there was little +perceptible current. So that now, the water being unruffled by any wind, +the four canoes shot ahead at good speed, retaining generally their +relative positions. + +Tom and Bob gradually quickened their stroke, hoping to make some slight +but sure gain on the leaders; but the Ellison brothers were evidently of +a mind to hold their lead as long as possible, and continued to do so. +This, however, was at the cost of some extra exertion, which might tell +in the long run. + +In the course of half an hour, after leaving the dam, the current began +to flow faster against them; now and then it came down over shoals of +quite an incline, so that they made better headway by getting out their +setting-poles and using them, instead of the paddles. + +Then, at a point a mile farther up stream, they came to rapids of some +considerable extent, flowing quite swiftly and boiling here and there +around sunken rocks. The Ellison brothers had avoided this place, and +were to be seen now, on the right bank of the shore, carrying their +canoe with difficulty. + +The shore here was broken up by the out-cropping of ledges, amid the +breaks of which a canoe must be carried with great care, as a false step +would mean a bad fall and perhaps the smashing of the canoe. The only +other alternative, besides the water, was to make a long detour through +the off-lying fields, with loss of time. + +Tom and Bob guided their craft swiftly in to land and proceeded to drag +it ashore, as the Ellison boys had done. The Warren brothers followed, +and Jack Harvey was turning his canoe in the same direction when a word +from his companion caused him to cease paddling. + +"Jack," said Henry Burns, "I think we could make the rapids. What do you +say? If we win out, we may be in time to call the Ellison fellows back." + +It was a rule of the race that, if a canoe succeeded in ascending any +difficult place in the stream, the successful pair was entitled to call +back any of the other canoes that were still carrying around the place, +and make them do likewise. If, however, any of the canoeists had made +the carry completely, and had launched their craft above, they could not +be called back. + +The Ellison brothers were about half way up the carry at this time. + +"I don't think we could do it, Henry," answered Harvey, to the other's +suggestion. "We could get part of the way up, all right, but the last +few rods are too steep." + +He pointed, as he spoke, to the upper incline of the rapids, which was, +indeed, much sharper than the first of the ascent, bending over from the +higher level of the stream abruptly, like a sheet of rounded, polished +ebony; flowing smoothly but with great swiftness; then broken here and +there below with rocks, sharp and jagged, and foaming threateningly as +it whirled past them. + +"I think we can do it, Jack," insisted Henry Burns, quietly. "I remember +the place. The water was a little higher when we came through in the +rain; but we ran these rapids, and don't you remember, half way down +that steepest part, we thought we were going to hit a sunken ledge--just +to the right of the middle of the slope?" + +"Why, yes, seems to me I do," replied Harvey, gazing ahead. "But I +didn't care much what we hit that evening, I was so wet and tired." + +"Well, look now," continued Henry Burns. "You can see the water whirling +at that very spot. The ledge doesn't show above water, but it's there. +What's the matter with working up to that, hanging on it till we get +rested, and then make one quick push up over the top?" + +"Oh, well," said Harvey, "I'm game. You seem to guess things right. +We'll try it, anyway." + +They pushed on into the first of the rapids, while the Ellison brothers, +turning and espying what they were attempting, redoubled their efforts +to make the carry. Tom and Bob cast a glance back, and also continued +along the carry; but George and Arthur Warren, having seen Henry Burns's +schemes work successfully before, turned and came out to the rapids. +There they waited, ready to make the attempt should they see it prove +successful, or to be in a position to put hurriedly for shore should it +prove a failure. + +"Better come on. You're wasting time," called Tom Harris once, as he set +his end of their canoe down on a shelf of ledge. But Henry Burns made no +reply, while Harvey only waved his paddle defiantly. + +For several rods, Harvey and Henry Burns made fair progress, working +quick and sharp, plying their paddles with rapid thrusts. Little clumps +of white froth floated fast by them, indicating the swift running of the +water, and its disturbance. Then the stronger current caught them, and +they barely forged ahead. By the appearance of the water, looking down +upon it as they struggled, they seemed to be flying; but it was the +water, and not they, that was moving rapidly. They hung close by the +little points of projecting ledge for moments at a time, making no +headway. They redoubled their efforts, drove their paddles through the +water with desperate energy, and gained the first mark they had set. + +Slowly the bow of the canoe crept up to a spot where the keen eyes of +Henry Burns had noted the sunken ledge, at a point only a rod from the +upper incline. This ledge did not show above water, but the boiling of +the stream and an almost imperceptible sloping of the surface on either +hand showed that it was there. + +Henry Burns leaned over the side of the canoe and gazed anxiously. +Should the water there prove deeper than he had hoped, they would not +ground, and must be carried back, their strength exhausted. But he had +not been mistaken. + +In a moment the water suddenly shallowed. A hard thrust with the +paddles, and the canoe grated gently. + +"Easy, Jack," cried Henry Burns. "She's hit. Get out the pole." + +Harvey seized the setting-pole from the bottom of the canoe, dropping +his paddle in its place. He thrust it quick and with all his strength +into the swift-running water. At a depth of about three feet it caught +the rocky bottom and held. Harvey braced with the pole and shoved the +bow of the canoe, which had touched on the part of the ledge that was +close to the surface, a little farther ahead. + +"Great!" shouted Henry Burns. "Take it easy now. She'll stay if the pole +don't slip." + +Harvey relaxed his exertions, holding the pole at an angle sufficient to +keep the canoe where it was, with only slight pressure. Henry Burns, +dropping his own paddle and likewise taking up his setting-pole, got a +grip in the rocks and aided his companion. They could rest now, with the +swift water rushing past them on either bow, and recover their wind and +strength for the final struggle. + +Their plan was, when they should have rested, to let the canoe drop back +about a foot, enough to clear the sunken ledge; then, before the current +should catch them, to shove out into it quickly, turn the bow of the +canoe to meet the rush of the rapids, and push over with the poles, by +main strength. They could do it, if, as Henry Burns expressed it, the +canoe "did not get away from them." + +The five minutes they waited seemed like hours. Away up along the carry, +they could see the Ellison brothers, lifting their canoe across the +broken bits of shore; Tom and Bob some way behind these, hurrying as +fast as they dared over the treacherous footing. But now, as they +gathered their strength, and gently shoved their canoe back, a cry from +Tom, who had noted their move, arrested the progress of the Ellison +boys. They paused for a moment and, with Tom and Bob, watched the +outcome, eagerly. + +Alas! it was sharp and bitter for Henry Burns. The canoe hung for a +moment, as they arrested its drifting with strong thrusts of the poles. +Then it shot ahead, as they pushed its nose diagonally out into the +sharp slope of the rapids. Henry Burns thrust his pole down hard, as +they cleared the sunken ledge, to swing the bow straight into the +current. But the bottom proved treacherous. + +It was all over so quickly that neither he nor Harvey knew hardly how it +had happened. He only knew that the pole did not catch, but instead, +struck the slippery face of a smooth bit of the rocky channel, slipped, +gave way, and that he barely recovered his balance to avoid going +overboard. + +The next moment, the canoe had swung around, receiving the full force of +the current broadside. A moment more, they were running with it and +being borne down to where George and Arthur Warren greeted them with +cries--not all sympathetic--of "hard luck." + +They had hardly got their canoe under control and turned it into an +eddy, and had realized the unhappy turn of affairs, when a shout of +derision and triumph came down to them from the Ellisons. They had made +the carry successfully and were launching their canoe in the smooth +water above. + +The Warren boys lost no time in paddling for shore. Tom and Bob, seeing +the discomfiture of their rivals, quickly picked up their canoe and +proceeded along the carry. Harvey looked inquiringly at Henry Burns, who +turned, smiling and unruffled. + +"Well?" said Harvey, "got enough?" + +"No," replied Henry Burns, and added deliberately, with a twinkle in his +eyes, "we might as well do it, now we've started. We've got two days to +get up over there in, you know." + +"Good for you!" exclaimed Harvey. "Come on, if you're ready. We've got +time yet before Tom and Bob make the carry." + +They bent to the paddles and got once more to the sunken ledge, panting +and perspiring, for they had worked hard and the current seemed, +therefore, even swifter now than before. There, holding their canoe in +place, they waited a little longer than on the first attempt, to rest +and study the current. + +"Let's try the right hand from the ledge this time," said Henry Burns. +"Those whirls mean shallow places. Perhaps the bottom isn't so +slippery." + +He pointed at some almost imperceptible breaks in the ebony surface of +the slope, and Harvey agreed. + +"I can shove this canoe up over there as sure as you're alive," said +Harvey, gazing proudly at a pair of muscular arms that were certainly +eloquent of strength; "that is, if you can keep her head straight. Don't +try to do much of the poling. Just try to hold what I gain each time, +till I can get a fresh hold. What do you say--rested enough?" + +"Aye, aye, captain," replied Henry Burns, coolly. "Up we go." + +Again the canoe dropped back a little from the ledge, and again they +caught and held it and shoved out into the current--this time on the +right, instead of the left side. + +Their comrades ashore watched anxiously. They saw the canoe strike the +swift running of the water and hang for a moment, as if irresolute, +uncertain whether it would turn its bow upstream or be swerved +broadside. The moment it hung there seemed minutes in duration. They saw +Henry Burns, lithe and agile, but cool and self-possessed, strike his +pole into the slope of the water where he had seen a shallow spot. And +the pole held. + +The watchers ashore saw the canoe slowly turn and face the swift +current, lying upon its polished slope as though upon a sheet of glass. +They saw Harvey in the stern set his pole and shove mightily, his +muscles knotted and his face drawn and grim with determination. They saw +the canoe slowly gain against the current. + +[Illustration: "THE WATCHERS ASHORE SAW THE CANOE SLOWLY TURN AND FACE +THE SWIFT CURRENT."] + +At the edge of the slope it stood still for what seemed an age. They saw +the two in bow and stern struggle desperately again and again to wrest +their craft from the clutch of the current. Then, almost with a leap, +freed from the fierce resistance of the rapids, the canoe slid over the +brink of the incline, into the deeper part of the stream above. + +A moment later, they saw the poles dropped and the paddles snatched up. +The canoe shot swiftly ahead, propelled by triumphant arms. The rapids +were conquered. Henry Burns and Harvey had won their hard fight. + +In vain had Tom and Bob, hurrying recklessly, bumping their canoe along +the rough shore, essayed to complete the carry before it would be too +late. To their chagrin and dismay, the sound of a horn blown three times +with a vigour announced to them the triumph of their comrades. Sadly +they shouldered their canoe, which they had set down at the first blast +of the horn, and turned their faces back along the trail, toward the +foot of the rapids. + +Likewise, the Warren boys, accepting the inevitable, turned back and +prepared to attempt the difficult feat which they had seen accomplished. +At all events, they were, by reason of their position in the rear of Tom +and Bob, in possession of that much advantage over the more skilled +canoeists. + +"Whew! but that was a tough one," exclaimed Harvey, dipping his paddle +leisurely, and recovering his breath. "Say, look at poor old Tom and +Bob--the champion canoeists. Bet they feel sore." + +Henry Burns turned, looked back and smiled. Then, gazing up stream +again, he said, "Yes, but look there." + +At a bend of the stream, fully a half mile ahead, the first canoe was +gliding easily along. + +Harvey groaned. "And they'd be back there, too," he exclaimed, "if we +hadn't made that slip. Never mind, there's another day coming." + +It seemed a long, long time, and they, themselves, had reached a point +fully a half mile above the rapids, before they espied first one canoe +and then another achieving the incline. They could not discern which was +in the lead, but it proved later to be the canoe handled by Tom and Bob, +the Warrens having made two failures before succeeding, giving time to +the others to come up and pass them. They were about abreast now, coming +along slowly. + +It was smooth paddling now, along the shores of green meadows and +pasture land, until noon arrived. Then, at the signal of four blasts of +the horn, by Harvey, answered in turn by all the others above and below, +the canoes were drawn out on shore and luncheon was eaten. They built no +fires, but ate what they had brought, cold. With an hour to rest in, +the leaders strolled back to where Harvey and Henry Burns were, and +chaffed them good-naturedly on their failure to make them take the +rapids, and over their own strong lead. To which, Harvey and Henry +Burns, being good sportsmen, replied good-humouredly, assuring the +Ellisons they should beat them on "the next hard place." + +The other canoeists remained where they were, and ate their luncheons +together. + + + + +CHAPTER IX + +AN EXCITING FINISH + + +When, at about two o'clock that afternoon, the sound of the horn, blown +four times by Jack Harvey, announced that the race was resumed, there +was a do-or-die expression on the faces of Tom Harris and Bob White. +Harvey and Henry Burns were a good half mile ahead of them; the Ellisons +fully a mile. + +Not that this was disheartening to athletic lads in good training, who +had learned in many a contest of skill and strength to accept a result +fairly won, even though they were beaten. On the contrary, here was a +contest worth the winning, now that the odds were against them. Their +first pique, over the clever move of Henry Burns that had set them back +in the race, having subsided, they were ready to give him credit for +carrying it out. + +But they were still bound to win. So that soon, settling down to a +strong, vigorous stroke, which had often carried them over miles of +rough water in Samoset Bay, they gradually drew ahead of George and +Arthur Warren. They seemed tireless. Their muscles, trained and +hardened, worked like well oiled machinery. In vain the Warren brothers +strove to keep up the pace. They were forced finally to fall back. That +quick, powerful thrust of the paddles, as Tom and Bob struck the water +with perfect precision, sent the light canoe spurting ahead in a way +that could not be equalled by less trained rivals. + +Henry Burns and Jack Harvey, toiling manfully, seemed to feel that they, +too, were being out-paddled; for ever and again one of them would glance +back over his shoulder; after which he would strike the water with a +sharper thrust, and the canoe would respond to the fresh endeavour. + +"They'll gain some," said Henry Burns once, calmly. "We can't help that. +They've had too many years of it, not to be able to set a stronger pace. +But they can't catch us in one afternoon. If they do, we're beaten. +We'll hold some of our advantage, eh, Jack?" + +"You bet we will!" exclaimed Harvey, jabbing the water savagely. "I'm +going to make a gain, myself, if only for a spurt." + +So saying, he called to his companion to "give it to 'em lively," and +they set a pace for the next fifteen minutes that did, indeed, exceed +the speed at which Tom and Bob were travelling. But spurts such as that +would not win a two days' race. Gradually they fell back into their +normal swing, and Tom and Bob crept up on them once more. + +The Ellisons, too, were feeling the strain of the long test of skill and +endurance. Now, as the afternoon hours went by, their stroke fell off +slower and slower. Heavier built somewhat than Tom and Bob, their +muscles, hardened and more sluggish with harder work, did not respond to +the call. Harvey and Henry Burns were gaining on them; and Tom and Bob +were gaining on both. + +On went the four canoes; up rapids or around them, as proved necessary +according to the depth of the water. Harvey and Henry Burns, seeing they +were gaining on the leaders, would take no more chances on questionable +rapids, but carried around those that the Ellisons did. Tom and Bob and +the Warrens also took the readiest way around each difficulty. + +Had the race a few more hours to run for that afternoon, it is certain +Tom and Bob must have overtaken and passed their rivals. But now the +time for the end of the first day's contest was at hand, and presently +Harvey, after a glance at his watch, lifted the horn to his lips. Four +blasts sounded far up and down the still waters, and four answering +blasts came from each canoe. The first day's race was done. The canoes +headed for shore. It was six o'clock, and the Ellisons were still in the +lead. + +But the margin was not now so great. Between them and the nearest canoe +there was not over a quarter of a mile of winding stream. Harvey and +Henry Burns had done well. But Tom and Bob had accomplished even more. +Scarcely more than an eighth of a mile intervened between their craft +and the canoe of Harvey and Henry Burns. The Warrens had paddled +gamely, also, but were fully three quarters of a mile behind the +leaders. + +Leaving their canoes drawn up on shore, at precisely the spot where each +had been at the sound of the horn, the boys met together now and shook +hands all around. It was clean, honest sport, and no mean jealousy. + +"But look out for to-morrow," said Tom Harris, good-naturedly shaking a +fist at Jim Ellison. + +They brought forth now from each canoe a light frame-work of three +bamboo poles, standards and cross-piece, and a thin, unbleached cotton +"A" tent, and quickly pitched the four tents on a level piece of ground, +in a semi-circle. The tents were flimsy affairs, light to carry, and +would not do in rainy weather; but they had picked their day, and it was +clear and no danger of a wetting. + +Then, for there had been a careful division of weight, each canoe +furnished some necessary article for getting the supper: a pail for +boiling coffee from one, fry-pan from another, and so on; with bacon for +frying, and bread and potatoes. They soon had a fire going in the open +space in front of the four tents, with a log rolled close to it, and the +coffee-pail hung on a crotched stick, set aslant the log and braced in +the ground. The bacon sizzled later in the pan, set on some glowing +coals. The potatoes were buried in the hot ashes, under the blaze, just +out of reach of burning. + +The canoeists stretched themselves on the ground around the fire, +hungry and healthfully wearied. Twilight was upon them when all was +ready, and they had removed the feast away from the warmth of the fire, +piling on more wood and making it blaze up brightly for its cheer. + +Then they fell to with amazing appetites; and the amount of crisp bacon +and hot potatoes and bread they made way with would have appalled the +proprietor of the Half Way House, or any other hotel keeper, if he had +had to supply it. Then, when they had startled the cattle in near-by +pastures with a few songs, heartily if not so musically bawled, they +were ready to turn in for the night, almost with the glowing of the +first stars. It was surprising how soon they were off to sleep, each +rolled in his single blanket, slumbering soundly on the bare turf. + +"Well?" remarked Henry Burns inquiringly, next morning, sitting up and +looking at his companion, who had scarcely got his eyes open. Harvey +gave a yawn, stretched and roused up. "I feel fine," he answered. "Lame +any?" "Not a bit," replied Henry Burns. + +Stepping outside the tent, he found, to his surprise, Tom and Bob +already up and their tent and blankets snugly packed and stowed. + +"Have a plunge?" asked Bob. + +"Yes," said Henry Burns. "Come on, Jack?" + +The four went down to the shore, leaving the others still finishing +their morning naps. One quick plunge and they were out again, ready for +breakfast. It was plain they were ready for the day's race. So said Jim +and John Ellison, when they were out, some minutes later. But Henry +Burns gave a sly wink at Harvey, as his sharp eye observed the motions +of the brothers when they came to strike their tent. Nor did he fail to +note the quickness with which Jim Ellison dropped his right arm, when he +had raised it once over his head. + +"Just a bit lame," said Henry Burns, softly. "We'll give it to 'em hard +at the start, before they get limbered up." + +Breakfast eaten, and the camp equipments stowed, they all proceeded now +to the spot where the Ellisons' canoe was drawn ashore. There they set +up a pole cut for the purpose. It marked the turning point of the race. +At the signal, the Ellisons could start down stream from there; and each +canoe must go up stream to that point before it could begin its home +run. + +It was a race now, as Henry Burns expressed it, for glory and for +dinner. They had eaten their stock of food and would stop for nothing +more till they reached camp. They had covered some fifteen miles of +water, up stream against rapids and the current, in the preceding day's +paddling; but they could make it down stream in about half the time. + +They were soon afloat now, for Harvey was impatient to be off, and he +was by consent the one to give the signal. The Ellison brothers would +gladly have delayed, but Harvey, at a word from Henry Burns, was firm. + +They took their places, struck the water together at the sound of the +horn, and the second day's race was begun. + +Confident as were the occupants of the second and third canoes, it was a +bit disconcerting, at the outset, to see the leaders go swiftly past +them on the way down stream, while they had still to go on against the +current up to the turning point. Moreover, the leading canoe quickly +caught a patch of swift running water, which the Ellisons had carried +around the day before, but could run now, by merely guiding their canoe. +So, at the start, they made an encouraging gain, and turned once, at the +foot of some rapids, to wave back defiance at their opponents. + +Skill and training were bound to tell, however. In the miles that were +reeled off rapidly now, the second and third canoes gained on the +leaders in the calm, still, sluggish places. There was more spring and +snap to their muscles. Their canoes moved faster through the water. + +Eight miles down stream, they were overhauling the foremost canoe +rapidly, the canoes of Tom and Bob and Henry Burns and Harvey being +nearly abreast, and the four straining every nerve and muscle. The +Warrens had fallen at least a half mile behind them. + +Luck had been with the Ellisons, surely; for running rapids in shallow +water is most uncertain work. Tom and Bob, old canoeists, knew well the +appearance of water that denotes a sunken rock, and by sheer skill and +watchfulness turned their canoe aside ever and again with a quick sweep +of the paddles, to avoid a treacherous place, where the water whirled +ominously. Henry Burns and Harvey had lately come down the stream, and +knew by that experience how easy it was to get hung up when it was least +expected. + +Yet, with all experience, now and again a canoe would grate and perhaps +hang for a moment in some rapid; and once, when the canoe of Tom and Bob +would have shot ahead of Harvey's, they went hard aground, and lost +precious minutes. + +When they were within a mile of the rapids where Henry Burns had won +honours on the preceding day, however, Tom and Bob had shown the proof +of their superior training and skill; they were leading Harvey and Henry +Burns and were close upon the leaders. + +"Cheer up, Jack," said Henry Burns, coolly, to his comrade; "they ought +to win, but we've given them a good race, anyway. Something may happen +yet." + +And something did happen--but not to the canoe steered by Tom Harris. + +The three foremost canoes were now upon the brink of the worst rapids, +and each youth was bracing himself for the run. They saw the Ellisons +shoot quickly over the brink, go swiftly down the smooth incline into +the rougher water. All at once, the canoe seemed to be checked abruptly +and hang for a moment. Then it slid on again. But the damage had been +done. A sharp point of ledge had penetrated the canvas, and the canoe +was leaking. + +Down went the two next canoes, one after the other; deftly handled; +sheering a little this way and that, as the watchful eyes detected the +signs of danger; riding gallantly through the frothing, fretting rapids +into clear water beyond. Their pace was not abated much as they got into +their swing again, and, one by one, they passed the Ellisons. The +latter's canoe, encumbered by water that leaked slightly but steadily +through the rent in the canvas, dragged somewhat and had to be bailed +before they had gone a half mile further. + +That afternoon, a boy, barefoot and hatless, stood by the shore at a +point a little way above the Ellison dam, anxiously watching up stream +as far as he could see. That he was intensely excited was evident by the +way he fidgeted about; and once he climbed a birch tree that overhung +the water and gazed away from that perch. + +"Hello, Tim," said a voice close by him, suddenly. "What are you looking +for?" + +"Oh, hello, Bess," responded Tim Reardon, turning about in surprise. +"How you startled me! I'm watching for the canoes--don't you know about +it? Cracky, but don't I hope Jack'll win." + +"Why don't you go out on the logs?" queried the girl. "You can see up +stream farther from there. Come on." + +Without waiting for a reply, Bess Thornton darted out across a +treacherous pathway of light cedar and spruce logs that lay, confined +by a log-boom, waiting to be sawed into shingle stuff; for the old mill +occasionally did that work, also, as well as grinding corn. Many of the +logs were not of sufficient size to support even the girl's light +weight, but sank beneath her, wetting her bare feet. She sprang lightly +from one to another, pausing now and then to rest and balance herself on +some larger log that sustained her. Little Tim, equally at home about +the water, followed. + +The boom confining this lot of logs was made of larger and longer logs, +chained together at the ends, and extending in a long irregular line +from a point up the shore down toward the dam, to a point just above the +landing place for the canoes. Tim Reardon and Bess Thornton ran along +this boom as far as it extended up stream. + +Presently Little Tim gave a yell and nearly pitched head-first into the +stream. + +"They're coming! they're coming!" he cried. "Who's ahead? Can you see?" + +The next moment he gave an exclamation of dismay. Two canoes shot around +a bend of the stream, one not far behind the other--but the second +canoe, to Little Tim's disappointment, that guided by Jack Harvey. Tom +and Bob had a fair lead, and, by the way they were putting life into +their strokes, seemed likely to maintain it. + +"Ow wow," bawled Little Tim. "Come on, Jack! Come on, Henry! You can +beat 'em yet. Give it to 'em!" + +Bess Thornton, catching the enthusiasm and spirit of her companion, and +espying who the occupants of the second canoe were, added her cries of +encouragement to those of Little Tim. + +But the leaders came on steadily and surely, heading in slightly toward +the point on shore where they would disembark to make the carry about +the dam. + +Away up the stream, two more canoes could be seen, about abreast, the +four boys plying their paddles with all the strength in them. + +So the leading canoe passed the boy and girl, Little Tim yelling himself +hoarse, with encouragement to Harvey and Henry Burns to come on. Surely +if there had been any impelling power in noise, Tim's cries would have +turned the scale in favour of his friends. + +The leading canoe touched shore, and Tom and Bob sprang lightly out; +snatched up their craft and were off up the bank, to make the carry. +Henry Burns and Harvey headed in to do likewise. But now Bess Thornton, +catching Tim suddenly by an arm, started back down the boom, saying to +him, "Come on quick." He, surprised, wondering what she meant, followed. + +The girl ran swiftly along the line of logs to a point a little way +above the dam. There the line of the boom swung inshore in a sweep to +the left. To the right of them, as they stood, was the deep, black +water, flowing powerfully in the middle of the stream, and with a strong +current, toward an opening in the dam. This was the long flume, a steep, +long incline, down which the water of the stream raced with great +velocity. It was built to carry rafts of logs through from time to +time--a chute, planked in on either side, with the entrance formed by +the cutting down of the top of the dam there a few feet. There was no +great depth of water in the flume--no one seemed to know just how much. +It depended on the height of water in the stream. + +Now the girl, waving to Harvey and Henry Burns, cried shrilly for them +to watch. Surprised, they ceased their paddling for a moment and looked +over to where she stood. + +To their amazement and Little Tim's horror, the girl, barefoot and +bare-armed, and clad in a light calico frock, gave a laugh and dived +into the stream. A moment more, she reappeared a few feet from the boom, +and was unmistakably heading for the swift water beyond running down to +the flume. + +"Come back!" cried Little Tim. "You'll get drowned there. You're going +into the flume." + +The girl turned on her side as she swam, calling out: + +"Tell 'em to come on. They'll beat the others. I've been through once +before." + +Again she turned, while Little Tim stood with knees shaking. Henry Burns +and Harvey, seeing the girl's apparent peril, uttered each an +exclamation of alarm, and headed out once more into the stream. + +But they were helpless. A moment more, and they saw the girl caught by +the swift rush of the water. Waving an arm just as she went over the +edge of the incline, she straightened out and lay at full length, so as +to keep as nearly as she could at the surface. She disappeared, and they +waited what seemed an age, but was scarcely more than two minutes. Then, +all at once, there came up to their ears, from far below, the clear, +yodelling cry of Bess Thornton. She had gone safely through. + +It was a serious moment for Tim Reardon. There wasn't a better swimmer +of his size in all Benton. Only a few of the larger lads dared to dive +with him from the very top of Pulpit Rock, a high point on the bank of +the stream, some miles below. Now he was stumped by a girl no bigger +than himself, and he felt his knees wabbling in uncertain fashion at the +thought of attempting the flume. And there was his big friend, Harvey, +and Henry Burns, waiting out on the water, uncertain as to what they +should do. He might aid them to win the race. Or he might hang back, be +beaten, himself, by a girl, and Harvey and Henry Burns would lose. + +Little Tim gazed for one moment out into midstream, to where the water, +black and gleaming, rushed smoothly and swiftly into the opening of the +sluice-way. Then he got his voice under control as best he could, waved +toward the canoe and shouted: + +"Come on, Jack. I'll show yer. It's e-e-asy." + +Little Tim shut his eyes, swallowed a lump in his throat, dived from the +boom and made a long swim under water. When he reappeared, he was near +the swift current, a little way below where the canoe lay. + +"Come on, fellers," he cried again--and the next moment Henry Burns and +Harvey saw him disappear over the edge of the dam. It seemed as though +there had been hardly time for him to be borne down to the foot of the +descent before they heard his voice, calling triumphantly back to them. + +Henry Burns turned and gave one quick, inquiring glance at his +companion. In return, Harvey gave a whistle that denoted his surprise at +the odd turn of affairs, and said shortly, "Got to do it now. We can go +through if they can. Hang that girl! Get a good brace now. Gimminy, look +at that water run!" + +They were on the very brink, as he spoke; and, even as he muttered the +last exclamation, the canoe dipped to the incline of the chute and went +darting down its smooth surface. They hardly saw the sides of the flume +as they shot by. Almost instantly, it seemed, they were in the tumbling, +boiling waters at the foot of it, Henry Burns crouching low in the bow, +so as not to be pitched overboard; Harvey bracing for one moment with +his paddle and striking the water furiously the next, to keep it on its +course. + +The canoe shipped water, and they feared it would be swamped; but they +kept on. Then, as they swept past a jutting of ledge that bordered the +lower shore, two figures standing together waved to them and cried out +joyously: + +"Paddle hard! Go it, Jack! Give it to her, Henry! You're way ahead. +They're not half 'round the bank yet. Hooray!" + +Spurred by the cries, the two canoeists plied their paddles with renewed +zeal. So on they emerged into smooth water. Away up the bank, Tom and +Bob, dismayed, saw their rivals take the lead in the long race--a lead +that could not be overcome. + +Sitting up proudly, Henry Burns and Harvey raced past the familiar +shores, saw the old camp come into view, shot across the finishing line, +and the race was won. Standing on the bank, they watched the others come +trailing in: Tom and Bob not far behind; the Warren boys third, and the +Ellisons last. + +"Yes," said Tom Harris, good-naturedly, as they sat outside the camp a +little later, "but you had to get a girl to show you how to beat us." + +"How'd you know you could go through there, anyway?" he added, turning +to the girl who, with Little Tim had come down the shore to see the +finish. + +"Did it to get away from gran' once," replied Bess Thornton, her eyes +twinkling. "My, but wasn't she scared. It's easy, though, isn't it, +Tim?" + +"Easy! It's nothin'," said Little Tim. + + + + +CHAPTER X + +HENRY BURNS MAKES A GIFT + + +It was evening, and the streets of Benton's shopping section were +lighted; the illumination of windows serving to display the attractions +arranged therein to best advantage. The night was warm and pleasant, and +the passers-by moved leisurely, enjoying the sights, or pausing now and +then to gaze in, as some object caught their eye. + +Three boys, sauntering along one of the principal thoroughfares, stopped +abruptly as one of their number called them to a halt and pointed on +ahead. The object to which he pointed was a fourth youth, who was +standing, with hands in his pockets, intently absorbed in the display in +one of the shop windows. + +"Sh-h-h!" whispered young Joe Warren to his companions, his brother +George and Bob White, "look at Henry Burns. My, but that's rich. We've +got one on him, all right. Hold on, let's come up on him easy." + +The boys drew a little nearer to Henry Burns, grinning broadly. Henry +Burns, all unmindful of such concerted observation, continued to gaze in +at the brilliantly lighted window. + +The contents of the window-case were, indeed, such as one would hardly +have supposed to be of interest to a youth of his age. The shop was one +of Benton's largest dry-goods establishments, and the particular window +was devoted wholly to an assortment of women's and misses' dresses. +Several more or less life-like figures, arrayed in garments of the +season, occupied prominent positions in the display. + +Directly in line with Henry Burns's vision was one of these: the figure +of a girl, dressed in a neat summer sailor suit, the yellow curls of the +head surmounted with a dashing sailor hat; its waxen cheeks tinted a +most decided pink; its blue, staring eyes apparently returning the gaze +of Henry Burns, unabashed at his admiration. + +There was no mistaking Henry Burns's desire to form a closer +acquaintance with the wax figure, for presently he approached closer to +the window and stood studying it with undisguised interest. + +"Seems to like the looks of her, don't he?" chuckled Young Joe, nudging +Bob White and doubling up with laughter. "Wish Jack Harvey was here now +to see him. Come on, let's wake him up." + +Approaching softly, the three neared the unsuspecting admirer of the +yellow-haired, waxen miss. + +Still lost in contemplation of her, Henry Burns was suddenly greeted by +a series of yells and hoots of derision that would have done credit to a +wild west performance. Then roars of laughter followed, as he turned and +faced them. + +It was not in the nature of Henry Burns to be startled or easily +disconcerted, however, and, although taken by surprise, he turned slowly +and faced the three. + +"Hello," he said coolly. + +"Hello, Henry," snickered Young Joe. "Say, what's her name?" + +"Yes, who is she?" echoed the other two; whereupon all three went off +again into mingled roars of laughter and yells of delight. + +"Dunno," responded Henry Burns. "I'll go in and ask, though, if you +want." + +"Isn't she sweet?" said Bob White. "How long have you known her?" + +"Oh, not so long as you've known Kitty Clark," replied Henry Burns. + +"Ow! wow!" squealed Young Joe; an exclamation which began in great +satisfaction and terminated in a howl, as he felt the force of a punch +from Bob's vigorous right arm. + +It wasn't so easy getting the best of Henry Burns, in spite of his +disadvantage. + +"Seen Jack?" he inquired. + +"No--yes, there he comes now," answered George Warren, pointing back in +the direction whence they had come. + +Henry Burns left them abruptly, and they went along, calling back at him +mockingly. But he paid little heed. Anyone familiar with the youth would +have known that he had something particular in mind; and in such case, +Henry Burns was not to be turned aside by bantering. + +Some five minutes later, Henry Burns and Harvey stood looking in at the +very same shop window, whither Henry Burns had conducted his companion. + +"Say--er--Jack, what do you think of that?" inquired Henry Burns, +pointing in at the wax figure. + +Harvey looked at his companion and grinned. + +"Think of what!" he exclaimed. "The curls?" + +"No, hang the curls!" said Henry Burns. "The dress." + +Harvey stared at him, open-mouthed. + +"Oh, yes," he said at length, as though endeavouring to grasp the +meaning of so extraordinary an inquiry; "looks like Bob White's sister. +What of it?" + +"Oh, nothing," replied Henry Burns, "only you and I are going to buy +it." + +Harvey's grin expanded. + +"Sure," he responded. "You'd look nice in it, Henry. Only you need the +curls, too--" + +"And give it to Bess Thornton," continued Henry Burns, unmindful of his +comrade's remark. + +Harvey whistled. + +"Well, I'll be skinned if I don't think you're in earnest!" he +exclaimed. + +"I am," said Henry Burns. "It's eight dollars and eighty-seven +cents--marked down--they always are, ain't they? Half of that's four +dollars and something or other apiece. Come in with me?" + +"Not much!" cried Harvey, turning red at the very thought of it. "I'll +pay half, though, if you'll get somebody to buy it. It's worth more than +that to me, to win that race. Well, if you don't beat all thinking up +queer things. What put it into your head?" + +"Why, she spoiled hers, showing us how to come through that sluice, +didn't she?" said Henry Burns. + +"Guess not," replied Harvey. "Spoiled long before that, I reckon. +They're poor enough. Get somebody to buy the dress, and I'll pay for +half, all right." + +"I'm going to buy it now," said Henry Burns, coolly; "that is, if you've +got any money. I've got five dollars." + +Harvey produced his pocket-book and the necessary bills. + +"Gee!" he exclaimed. "I wouldn't do it for a hundred dollars. Go on; +I'll watch you through the window." + +In no wise daunted, Henry Burns, whose critical study of the model and +the garment through the window had satisfied him that the figure was of +Bess Thornton's size, boldly entered the store, calmly made the +purchase, ignored the inquiry of the clerk if he was thinking of getting +married, and returned with it to his companion. + +"Say," exclaimed Harvey, "I don't wonder you learned to sail the +_Viking_ quick as you did. You've got the nerve." + +"Now we've got to take it up there," said Henry Burns. + +Harvey stopped short. + +"Take that dress and give it to a girl?" he asked. + +"No, we won't give it to her," replied his comrade. "She might not like +to have us--and I wouldn't know what to say, would you?" + +"Would I!" exclaimed Harvey. + +"We'll just leave it and cut and run," explained Henry Burns. "Then she +won't know who sent it, and she'll have to keep it. See?" + +"It's most nine o'clock," remarked Harvey. + +"I'm going," said Henry Burns. + +"Oh, well, I'll stand by," said Harvey. "Let's be off, then. It's a good +two miles and a half, nearer three." + +Shortly after, one might have seen the two comrades trudging along the +road leading out of Benton, in the direction of Ellison's mill. + +They walked briskly, and in a little less than three quarters of an hour +a light from a window on a hill-top warned them that they were +approaching the farmhouse of Farmer Ellison. They turned in from the +road that ran along the bank of the stream, and made their way through +his field on the hillside, in the direction of the brook. + +"Does Ellison keep any dog?" asked Harvey, once. + +"I don't know, any more than you do," replied his companion. "Never saw +any. We'll keep well down near the brook, though, so they can't see us +from the house." + +They passed through some clumps of small cedars and thin birches, +stumbling now and then over cradle-knolls and pitching into little +depressions. It was a clear night and starlit, but the shadows in the +half darkness were confusing. A lamp gleamed in the kitchen window, +above them, and they could see someone moving past the window from time +to time. + +"Ellison hasn't gone to bed," remarked Harvey. + +"Well, what of it?" replied Henry Burns. "Not scared of him, are you?" + +"No," answered Harvey. "But he's touchy about this brook. Ever since he +caught Willie Dodd setting a net there one night he's been crazy for +fear he'd lose some of these trout." + +"I know what's the matter with you," said Henry Burns. "It's this dress. +You wouldn't have anyone catch us with it for a million dollars." + +"You bet I wouldn't," answered Harvey. + +Harvey's nerves, usually the steadiest, were not proof against even a +slight alarm; for when, a few moments later, his companion touched him +lightly on an arm and motioned for him to be still, he waited, keyed up +to a high point of excitement and ready for a dash across the fields. + +"What is it?" he whispered. + +"Sh-h!" replied Henry Burns, clutching his bundle tight under one arm, +and peering through the scattered alders, into which they had +penetrated. "I heard a step." + +They waited, anxiously. + +It was Harvey's turn, however, to enjoy a laugh at the expense of his +comrade, as the steps that the quick ear of Henry Burns had heard were +continued, this time with an unmistakable crackling of undergrowth. + +"There's your prowler, Henry," he said, laughing softly and slapping his +friend between the shoulders. "She's got two horns, but I guess she +won't hook, unless she sees through that box and gets a sight of that +dress." + +A look of relief overspread Henry Burns's face, as a Jersey cow stalked +slowly through the brush and stood gazing inquiringly at the two boys. +But, observing her for a moment, it did not escape Henry Burns that the +animal suddenly gave a spring and turned and faced the other way, as +though some noise behind had surprised her. + +Henry Burns clutched his comrade and pointed back past the cow. Harvey's +eyes followed where he pointed. + +The figure of a man was plainly to be seen, stealing along in the +shadows of the clumps of bushes. + +They paused not another instant, but dashed forward, heedless now of the +noise they made, thrusting branches aside and leaping from one knoll to +another where the soil was boggy. At the same moment Farmer Ellison, +brandishing a club, emerged into plain view and darted after them, +crying out as he ran. + +"Stop there!" he shouted. "I'll shoot yer if yer don't stop. I'll have +no nets set in this stream. Just let me lay this club on your backs." + +They only fled the faster. + +"He won't shoot," gasped Henry Burns. "Make for the foot of the dam. +We'll cross the brook." + +As for Harvey, threats of a fire of infantry wouldn't have stopped him. +He followed his slighter companion, who led the way, despite the +incumbrance of the box he carried. + +Through pasture and swamp the chase continued. The boys were fleeter of +foot, but Farmer Ellison knew the ground. And once he skirted a boggy +piece of land and nearly headed them off. They turned toward the brook, +gained its shore and sped along to the foot of the dam. There the water, +diminished by the obstruction, flowed from a little basin out on to +shallower bottom, from which here and there a rock protruded. + +Springing from one to another of these, slipping and splashing to their +knees, aided here and there by a bit of half decayed log or drift-wood, +they got across and scrambled up the opposite bank just as Farmer +Ellison, out of breath, appeared on the nearer shore. + +"You poachers!" he cried, "Ye've got away this time. But look out for +the next. Remember, it's a shotgun full of rock salt and sore legs for +yer if yer come again." + +He seated himself by the foot of the dam, nursing a bruised shin, and +watched them disappear through the fields. + +"Scared 'em some, anyway, I reckon," he remarked. And was most assuredly +correct in that. The two boys had not stopped in their flight, and were +a mile above the crossing before Farmer Ellison turned himself homeward. + +Safe from pursuit at last, Henry Burns threw himself down at the foot of +a tree and laughed till he nearly choked for want of breath. + +"How we did scoot," he said. "Did you see old Ellison slip once and go +into the bog?" + +"I didn't see anything," replied Harvey, "but a pair of legs in front of +me, cutting it through the mud and brush. How's the dress?" + +"Oh, it's all right," said Henry Burns. "Come out if you've got your +wind. We'll leave it and get home." + +They were at a point above Grannie Thornton's cottage, and they +proceeded now cautiously, making a circuit to bring them to the brook +some way above the house, pausing now and then to look and to listen. +But no one disturbed them. Farmer Ellison had had enough of the chase +and had gone home to nurse his shin. + +They came down to the old house. It was dark, and all was still. Harvey +waited on watch near the gate, while Henry Burns stole up to the door +and laid the box down carefully against the front door. Then they sped +away. + +"Go back the way we came?" inquired Henry Burns, slyly. + +"Not much," said Harvey. "Straight out to the main road. No more swamps +for me." + +They went out that way, then; took the main road, passed down by the old +inn and the mill, and swung into a rapid stride for home. It was half +past eleven o'clock when they turned into their beds. + +Two days following this adventure, toward the latter part of the +afternoon, Henry Burns was walking up the same road by the stream, in +the direction of the camp, where he was to meet Tom Harris for a spin in +the canoe. He had heard no footsteps near, and was therefore not a +little surprised when a hand touched his arm and a laugh that was +familiar sounded close by his side. + +He turned quickly, and there was Bess Thornton. + +"Hullo," she said, "I hoped I'd see somebody on the road. I'll walk +along with you." + +Henry Burns said "all right" in a tone that was not over-cordial; for, +though not easily abashed, he was, to tell the truth, just a bit shy +with girls, and wondered what Tom Harris would say if he saw him coming +up the road with Bess. + +Perhaps the girl's quick intuitiveness perceived this, for a mischievous +light danced in her black eyes as she said, "I thought perhaps you'd +like to have company. You would, wouldn't you?" + +"Yes--oh, yes," responded Henry Burns. "Going home from school?" + +"Yes," she answered. "But I didn't want to go this morning, a bit. Gran' +made me, though." + +"What's the matter?" asked Henry Burns. + +"Well," said the girl, "I had to wear this new dress, you see. And when +you wear a new dress they always say things, don't you know? Danny Davis +hollered 'stuck up' once, but I punched him." + +"Good for you," said Henry Burns, laughing. "I'd like to have seen +you--that a new dress?" + +"Course it is," she answered, with a touch of half-offended pride. +"Can't you see it is?" + +Henry Burns made a quick survey of the trim little figure, clad in the +dress that had cost him and Harvey the hard scramble of the recent +night. It was surprising what a difference the pretty suit made in the +appearance of the girl. He made a mental note of the fact that it seemed +just the right size for her, and that she certainly looked very nice in +it. Its dark red set off the black of her glossy hair, and she wore a +neat straw hat that went well with the dress. At least, it looked all +right to Henry Burns. + +"You don't look stuck up," he ventured. "You look first rate." + +He felt the colour come into his cheeks as he said it. It was the first +time in his life that he had ever complimented a girl. They were passing +a dingy little store, with its windows filled with farming tools, odds +and ends of household stuff and some fishing tackle, and he thought it a +good chance to get away. + +"Got an errand in here," he said. "Good-bye." + +Some ten minutes later he emerged, looked sharply up the road and +pursued his journey. He had gone scarcely a rod or two, however, when +the girl's voice brought him to a halt, much taken aback. She was seated +by the stream, close to the water. + +"I thought you'd be along," she said. "I've been watching the pickerel. +There's one sunning himself close to the top of water now, just by the +lily pads. See me hit him." + +She picked up a stone as she spoke, and threw it with surprising ease +and accuracy. It struck the water about six inches from the dark object +to which she had pointed. Henry Burns's chagrin at this second meeting +was lost in admiration. + +"Good shot!" he exclaimed. "How'd you know 'twas a pickerel?" + +"Oh I catch 'em," she answered. "And once in a while I show one to Benny +Ellison so he can shoot it. I don't like him much, though. He's mean +and--fat." + +Henry Burns chuckled. + +"He can't help that," he said. + +"No, but he's always stuffing himself with candy and things," said the +girl. "And he won't ever give you any. I like people that give away +things once in a while, don't you?" + +Henry Burns came the nearest to blushing that he ever had, as he +answered that he guessed he did. There was something in the girl's voice +and manner and in her beaming countenance, telling of her happiness in +the possession of her new finery--though she had feared the ordeal of +wearing it to school, perhaps because of the contrast it made to her +usual garment--that he felt a queer feeling in his throat. But relief +was at hand for him in his embarrassment, for the path that led down to +the camp was in sight, and he bade her good-bye. + +He struck off along the path, through the bushes and thin growth of +woods; but had gone only a little way when the sound of voices, one +sharp and angry, made him pause. He retraced his steps, hurrying as he +recognized the voice of Bess Thornton, the tone of which indicated +grief. + +He emerged into the road in time to see the girl scramble out of a clump +of brakes and burdock plants by the roadside, the tears standing in her +eyes as she picked the burs from the latter out of the new dress. Just +in front of her, noting her distress with satisfaction, stood Benny +Ellison. + +"That's what you get for being so proud," he said bluntly. "You needn't +get so mad, though. I was only in fun." + +The girl's eyes blazed, angrily; but it was not the Bess Thornton of +every day that now faced the youth. Some of her fearlessness and dash +seemed to have departed, with the taking off of the old dress. + +"Let me past," she said, stepping forward; but the boy blocked her way. + +"Let me look at the new dress," he demanded. "Where'd you get so much?" + +He caught her by an arm, as she attempted to brush past him. Greatly to +his surprise, however, he felt his hand cast off and, at the same time, +he was nearly upset by a vigorous push. The youth who had done this, +apparently not the least excited, stood facing him as he recovered +himself. + +"Let the girl alone," said Henry Burns. "Let her go past." + +One could hardly have noted a trace of anger in his voice, but there +was a warning in his eye that Benny Ellison might have heeded. The +latter, however, was no longer in a mood to stop at any warning. His +flabby face reddened and his fist clenched. + +"You'll not stop me!" he cried, taking a step toward the girl. "I'll +push both of you in there, if you don't get out." + +"Just try it," said Henry Burns, quietly. + +Benny Ellison, larger and heavier than the youth who thus dared him, +hesitated only a moment. Then he rushed at Henry Burns and they +clinched. The struggle seemed over before it had hardly begun, however, +for the next moment Benny Ellison found himself lying on his back in the +road, with Henry Burns firmly holding him there. + +"Let me up!" he cried, squirming and kicking. "You don't dare let me +up." + +By way of answer, Henry Burns relinquished his hold and allowed his +antagonist to regain his feet. Again Benny Ellison, wild with anger, +made a rush for Henry Burns, aiming a blow at him as he came on. Dodging +it, and without deigning to attempt to return it, Henry Burns closed +with him once more, and they reeled together to and fro for a moment. + +If Benny Ellison had but known it, he had met with one whom Tom Harris +and Bob White, who prided themselves on their athletics, and even +stalwart Jack Harvey, had often found to be their match in wrestling. +Slight in build, but with well-knit muscles, Henry Burns was +surprisingly strong. And, above all, he never lost his head. + +The contest this time was a moment more prolonged; but again Benny +Ellison felt his feet going from under him, and again he went down--but +this time harder--to the ground. He lay for a moment, with the breath +knocked out of him. + +"Want another?" inquired Henry Burns, calmly. He had not even offered to +strike a blow. + +Benny Ellison, picking himself up slowly from the dust, hesitated a +moment; then backed away. + +"I'll have it out with you again some time," he muttered. "I'll get +square with you for this." + +Henry Burns's eyes twinkled. + +"Why not now?" he asked. + +Benny Ellison made no reply, but went on up the road. + +Bess Thornton's face, radiant with delight as Henry Burns turned to her, +suddenly clouded. + +"Guess I'll have to look out now," she said. "He'll give it to me, if he +catches me." + +Henry Burns's face wore an expression of mingled perplexity and +embarrassment. Then, as one resolved to see the thing through, he +replied, "Come on, I'll get you home all right." + + + + +CHAPTER XI + +COL. WITHAM GETS THE MILL + + +It was the evening before the glorious Fourth of July, and Tim Reardon +was dragging an iron cannon along the street, by a small rope. It was a +curious, clumsy piece of iron-mongery, about a foot and a half long, +with a heavily moulded barrel mounted on a block of wood that ran on +four wheels; a product of the local machine shop, designed for the +purpose of being indestructible rather than for show. + +Tim Reardon, smudgy-faced, but wearing an expression of deep +satisfaction, paused for a moment before a gate where stood a boy +somewhat younger than himself, who eyed the cannon admiringly. + +"Hello, Willie," said Tim. "Comin' out, ain't yer?" + +The boy shook his head, disconsolately. + +"What's the matter?" + +"Can't," said the boy. "Father won't let me." + +Tim looked at him pityingly. + +"Won't let you come out the night before the Fourth!" he exclaimed. +"Gee! I'd like to see anybody stop me. What's he 'fraid of?" + +"He isn't afraid," replied the boy. "He's mad because they make so much +noise he can't sleep. He says they haven't any right to fire off guns +and things on the Fourth." + +"Hm!" sniffed Tim. "Henry Burns says you have, and I guess he knows. +He's read all about it. He says there was a man named Adams who was a +president once, and he said everybody ought to make all the noise they +could; get out and fire guns, and blow horns, and beat on pans and yell +like everything, and build bonfires and fire off firecrackers." + +"Did he?" said the boy. "And did he say anything about getting out the +night before?" + +"Well, I dunno about that," answered Tim Reardon; "but of course the +patrioticker you are, why, the sooner you begin. It's the Fourth of July +the minute the clock strikes twelve--and, cracky, won't we make a racket +then? Henry Burns, he's got a cannon; and so's Jack Harvey and Tom +Harris and Bob White, and the Warren fellers they've got three, and a +lot of other fellers have got 'em. Just you wait till the clock strikes, +and there'll be some fun." + +"I wish I could come out," said the boy, earnestly. + +"Too bad you can't. You miss all the fun," said Little Tim. "I'll bet +George Washington was out the first of any of 'em on the Fourth of July, +when he was a boy." + +Tim's knowledge of history was not quite so ample as his patriotic +ardour. + +"Why don't you come, anyway?" he ventured. "Just tie a string around +your big toe, and hang the string out the window, and I'll come around +and wake you up. I'm going to wake George Baker that way. I don't go to +bed at all the night before the Fourth." + +The boy shook his head. + +"No, I guess not," he replied. "But say," he added quickly, "come around +in front of the house and make all the racket you can, will you? I'd +like to hear it, if I can't get out." + +"You bet we will," responded Tim, heartily. "Sammy Willis, his father +won't let him come out, and we're going 'round there; and Joe Turner, +his father won't let him come out, and we're going there, too. There's +where we go to, most." + +Tim did not explain whether this was from patriotic motives or +otherwise. But the small boy looked pleased. + +"Be sure and come around," he said. + +"Oh, you'll hear from us, all right," replied Tim. + +It was quite evident that something would be heard when, some hours +later, about a quarter of an hour before midnight, a group of boys had +gathered in the square in front of Willie Perkins's house. There was an +array of small cannon ranged about that would have sent joy to the heart +of a youthful Knox or Steuben. The boys were engaged in the act of +loading these with blasting powder, purchased at a reduced price from +the rock blasters in the valley below. + +"Here you, don't put in so much powder, young fellow," cautioned Harvey +to a smaller youth, who was about to pour a handful into a chunky +firearm. "Don't you know that it's little powder and lots of wadding +that makes her speak? I'll show you." + +Harvey measured out a small handful of the coarse, black grains, poured +them down the barrel, stuffed in some newspaper and rammed it home with +a hickory stick. Then he stuffed in a handful of grass and some more +newspaper, hammering on the ram-rod with a brick, regardless of any +danger of premature explosion. The coarse powder was not "lively," +however, and had always stood such handling. The process was continued +until the cannon was stuffed to the muzzle. Then a few grains were +dropped over the touch-hole, a long strip of paper laid over this, +weighted down with a small pebble, and was ready for lighting. + +"There," said Harvey, relinquishing the ram-rod to the youth, "that'll +speak. If you fill 'em full of powder they don't make half the noise." + +Simultaneously, Henry Burns, the Warren boys, Tom Harris, Bob White and +a dozen other lads had been loading and priming their respective pieces; +and presently they stood awaiting the striking of the town clocks. + +Willie Perkins's father, who had been hard at work all the evening with +a congenial party in his office, at a game of euchre, was just getting +his first nap, having congratulated himself on retiring, that, if the +neighbourhood's rest was disturbed, his son at least would not +contribute toward it. Willie Perkins, having extended a cordial +invitation to the boys to come around and visit his esteemed parent, +was himself fast asleep. + +Clang! The first town clock to take cognizance of the arrival of the +glorious Fourth struck a lusty note, that rang out loudly on the clear +night air. But there was no response from the eager gunners. It was not +yet Fourth of July. It would have gone hard with the boy that had fired. + +Clang and clang again. The twelfth call was still ringing in the iron +throat of the old bell, high in its steeple, when Harvey shouted, "Now +give it to her!" + +There was a hasty scratching of matches. The strips of paper began to +burn; slowly at first, while the boys scattered; then quickly, +sputtering as the flame caught the first few grains of powder. + +A moment later, it seemed to Willie Perkins's father as though he had +been lifted completely out of his bed by some violent concussion, while +a roar like the blast of battle shook the house. The glorious Fourth had +begun in Benton. + +Springing to his feet, Mr. Perkins uttered a denunciation of the day +that would have made the signers of the Declaration of Independence turn +in their graves, while he rushed to the window. Throwing it open, he +peered out into the square. There was not a boy in sight. Retreat had +already begun, ignominiously, from the field. + +"If they come around again--" muttered Mr. Perkins. He did not finish +the sentence, but went along a hallway and looked into his son's room. +"Are you there, William?" he inquired sternly. + +"Yes; can I get up now? Must be most morning." + +"Get up!" replied the elder Perkins. "Just let me catch you getting up +before daylight! If I had my way, there wouldn't be any firing guns or +firecrackers on Fourth of July. It's barbarism--not patriotism. + +"Willie," he added, "do you know any of those boys out there to-night?" + +"How can I tell, if you won't let me go out?" whined Willie. + +"I'd like to know who put it into people's heads to fire off guns on the +Fourth," exclaimed Mr. Perkins. "He must have been a rowdy." + +Willie Perkins made a mental note that he would look up President Adams +next morning, for his father's benefit. + +Mr. Perkins returned to his bed-room and closed his eyes once more. His +was not a sweet and peaceful sleep, however. Benton was awakening to the +Fourth in divers localities, and sounds from afar, of fish-horns and +giant crackers, of bells and barking dogs, came in, in tumultuous +confusion. + +"Confound the Fourth of July!" muttered Mr. Perkins. "I didn't disturb +people this way when I was a boy." + +But perhaps Mr. Perkins forgot. + +There came by, shortly, a party of intensely patriotic youth from the +mill settlement under the hill. Their particular brand of patriotism +manifested itself in beating with small bars of iron on a large +circular saw, suspended on a stick thrust through the hole in its centre +and borne triumphantly between two youths. The reverberation, the +deafening clangour of this, cannot possibly be described, or appreciated +by one that has never heard it. Suffice it to say, that the fish-horns, +even the cannon, were insignificant by comparison. + +Mr. Perkins groaned and half arose. But the party went along past, +without offering to stop--perhaps because they had received no +invitation from Willie. Moreover, it seemed as though half the town was +astir by this time and giving vent to its enthusiasm. Benton had a +remarkable way of getting boyish on the morning of the Fourth, which the +elder Perkins could not understand. + +When, however, an hour later, another shock of cannon shook his chamber, +followed immediately by what sounded to him like a derisive blast of +fish-horns, there was no more irresolution left in him. Hastily arising +and throwing a coat over his shoulders, and dashing a hat over his +eyes--the first one that came to hand, and which happened to be a tall +beaver--Mr. Perkins, barefoot and in his night-clothes, a not imposing +guardian of the peace, sped down the front stairs and out into the +street. + +A cry of alarm, the rumble of cannon dragged by ropes over the shoulders +of a squad of youths in full flight, and the exclamations of the +indignant Mr. Perkins, marked the occasion. + +Fear lent its wings to the pursued; wrath served to lighten the bare +heels of Mr. Perkins. He was gaining, when one of the youth, cumbered +in flight by his artillery piece, let go the string. The cannon +remaining in the path of Mr. Perkins, he stumbled over it, and it hurt +his toe. He paused and picked up the cannon, but relinquished it to +grasp his toe, which demanded all his attention. He decided, then and +there, that the pursuit, which had extended about three blocks, was +useless, and abandoned it. Limping slightly, he started homeward. + +Somewhat like the British retreat from Concord and Lexington, was the +return of Mr. Perkins to his home. A piece of burning punk lay in the +road, and presently he stepped on that. The fleeing forces had doubled +on their tracks, also, and a fire-cracker exploded near him. Then a +torpedo. And there was no enemy in sight to take revenge on. Mr. Perkins +hastened his steps and was soon, himself, in full retreat. + +Then, when presently he was conscious of the raising of curtains in +near-by windows, and felt the eyes of several of his neighbours directed +toward his weird costume, Mr. Perkins no longed walked. He ran. As he +closed the door behind him and tramped wearily up the stairs, the voice +of his son greeted him. + +"Say, pa, is it time to get up now?" + +Mr. Perkins's reply was most decidedly unpatriotic. + +The hours went by, and a rapid fire of small artillery ran throughout +Benton and along its whole frontier line. Even the bells in the +steeples, no longer solemn, clanged forth their defiance to +authority--which was the only thing that slumbered in the town on this +occasion. + +But Benton had other observances for its boisterous display of spirits, +the origin of which no one seemed to know, but which were participated +in each year by the new generation of youths, with careful observance of +tradition. + +There were the "Horribles," for example, not to have ridden in which at +some time of one's life was to have left one page blank. The procession +of "Horribles," otherwise known as "Ragamuffins," usually started at +about six in the morning, marching through the streets until nine;--by +which time the endurance of a youth who had been out all night usually +came to an end. + +Now, as the hour of three was passed, certain eager and impatient +aspirants for first place in the line began to make their appearance on +horseback in the streets of Benton, clattering about on steeds that had +never before known a saddle; weird figures, masked uncouthly in +pasteboard representations of Indians, animals and what-not, and clad in +every sort of costume, from rags to ancient uniforms--a noisy, +tatterdemalion band, blowing horns and discharging firearms. + +There was Tim Reardon, mounted on an aged truck horse, that drooped its +head and ambled with half-closed eyes, as though it might at any moment +fall off to sleep again. Sticking like a monkey to its bare back was +Tim, his face hidden behind a monstrous mask, his head surmounted by a +battered silk hat, extracted from a convenient refuse heap; a fish-horn +slung about his neck by a string. + +There was Henry Burns, with face blackened and a huge wooden tomahawk at +his belt; he, likewise, astride, on one of Mr. Harris's work horses. A +more mettlesome steed upheld Jack Harvey, but not at all willingly, +since it had an uncertain way of backing without warning into fences and +trees, to the detriment of its rider's shins. The firing of a huge +horse-pistol by Harvey seemed to aggravate rather than soothe the +animal's feelings. + +The Warren brothers had contrived a sort of float, consisting of an +express wagon, gorgeously covered with coloured cloths, even interwoven +in the spokes of the wheels, and wound around the body of the horse that +drew it. A wash-boiler, its legitimate usefulness long over, set up in +the wagon, was beaten on by Arthur and Joe Warren, while their elder +brother drove. + +Tom Harris, Bob White and a scattering of other grotesque horsemen came +along presently. + +"Where'll we go?" queried Harvey, as the squadron paused to rest after a +preliminary round of some of the streets. + +"Past Perkins's house again," suggested young Joe Warren. + +"No, we've been by there twice already," answered Henry Burns. "He won't +like Fourth of July if we give him too much of it." + +Young Joe grinned behind his mask. + +"I'll tell you," he said, excitedly. "We've got time to do it, too, +before the parade begins--Witham's! Bet he's sound asleep--what do you +say?" + +"Come on," cried Henry Burns. "Will you go, fellows?" + +A whoop of delight gave acquiescence. The procession clattered out of +Benton and started up the valley road by the stream. + +They went along noisily at first, beating their battered tinware, +setting off giant firecrackers, blowing horns and whooping lustily. +Farmers along the road opened a sleepy eye as they passed, remembered it +was the morning of the Fourth, and turned over for another nap. Pickerel +in the stream dived their noses into the soft mud at the lowest depths. +Night-hawks, high above, swooped after their prey and added their weird +noise to the din. Yellow-hammers and thrushes, rudely roused, darted +from their nests and took flight silently into the thicker screen of the +woods. + +But, as the riders neared the Ellison dam, and heard the first sound of +the falling water, they subsided, planning to take the neighbourhood, +and particularly the occupants of the Half Way House, above, by +surprise. Thus silently going along, they were aware of a light wagon, +drawn by a lively stepping horse, turning from the road that led up to +the Ellison farm and coming on toward them. + +"Hello!" exclaimed George Warren; "it's Doctor Wells. Something's up. +Wonder what's the matter." + +Doctor Wells, coming up to the leaders, reined in his horse and +regarded the procession with a mingled expression of good humour and +anxiety. + +"Pretty early to start the Fourth, isn't it?" he asked. "What's that you +say? Going to wake up Colonel Witham--and Ellison?" + +His face assumed a serious expression. + +"Wake Jim Ellison," he repeated, as though he was speaking more to +himself than to them. "I wish you could. 'Twould stop lots of trouble, +I'm thinking. No man can wake poor Jim Ellison. He's dead. Went off +quick not a half hour ago. Got a shock, and that was the end of him. +You'll have to turn back, boys." + +Quietly and soberly, the procession turned about and headed for Benton. +The parade that morning was minus a good part of its expected members. + +One week later, Lawyer James Estes of Benton, carrying some transcripts +of legal papers under his arm, walked up the driveway to the Ellison +farm and knocked at the front door. A woman, sad-eyed and anxious, +opened to his knock and ushered him into the front parlour. + +"I'm afraid I've got bad news for you, Mrs. Ellison," he said, in +response to her look of inquiry. "I'm sorry to say it looks as though +your husband's affairs were much involved at the time of his death. I +find those deeds were given to Colonel Witham. They're on record, and I +suppose Witham has the original papers, duly signed. We'll know all +about it as soon as he returns. He went out of town, you say, the day +Mr. Ellison died?" + +"Yes," she replied; "never came near us, nor sent us word of sympathy. +I'm afraid he didn't want to see us. I never wanted James to have +business dealings with him. Does the mill go, too?" + +"I'm afraid it does," answered Lawyer Estes. "Why, didn't you know about +it? Your name is signed, too, you know, else the deeds are not good." + +"Oh, yes, I suppose I did sign them, if they're on record," said Mrs. +Ellison. "I was always signing papers for James. He said everything +would be all right. I didn't know anything about the business--dear, +dear--I thought the boys would have the mill when James was too old to +work it. It's good property, if it does look shabby." + +"Well, we'll make the best of it and do all we can," said Lawyer Estes. +"Perhaps Witham can straighten it out when he returns. If he can't, +there seems to be no doubt that the mill and some of the farm belong to +him. We've hunted everywhere about your home and about the mill, and +there are no papers that save us. We must wait for Colonel Witham." + +It was a little more than two weeks before Colonel Witham did return to +his hotel. Had he gotten out of the way, thus hurriedly, to see what +turn James Ellison's affairs might take? Had he hopes that the deeds he +knew of might by some chance not be found? Was his absence carefully +timed, to allow of whatever search was bound to be made to be done and +gotten over with, ere he should presume to lay claim to the property? +It would not do to declare himself owner, should the chance arise, and +then have the deeds that he had given back secretly to Ellison turn up. +It were safer surely to remain away and see what would happen. + +At all events, when on a certain day the droning of the mill told that +its wheels had resumed their interrupted grinding, there might have been +seen, within, the burly form of Colonel Witham, moving about as one with +authority. Short, curt were his answers. There was little to be made out +of him by Lawyer Estes or anyone else. What was his business was +his--and nobody else's. There were the deeds, duly signed. If anyone had +a better claim to the property, let him show it. As for the Ellison +boys--and all other boys--they could keep away, unless they had corn to +be ground. The mill was no place for them. + +And yet, as the days went by, one might have fancied, if he had +observed, that all was not easy in the mind of the new owner of the +mill. They might have noted in his manner a continual restlessness; a +wandering about the mill from room to room; prying into odd corners here +and there; pounding upon the beams and partitions; poking under +stair-ways; rummaging into long unused chutes and bins; for ever +hunting, anxious-eyed; as though the mill had an evil and troublous +influence over his spirits. + +And now and then, pausing in the midst of his searching, the new owner +might have been heard to exclaim, "Well, if I can't find them, nobody +else can. That's sure." + +But Colonel Witham did not discontinue his searching. And the mill gave +up no secrets. + + + + +CHAPTER XII + +THE GOLDEN COIN + + +Mill stream, coming down from afar up the country, on its way to Samoset +river and bay, flowed in many moods. Now it glided deep and smooth, +almost imperceptibly, along steep banks that went up wooded to the sky +line. Again it hurled itself recklessly down rocky inclines, frothing +and foaming and fighting its way by sheer force through barriers of +reefs. Now it went swiftly and pleasantly over sand shallows, rippling +and seeming almost to sing a tune as it ran; again it turned back on its +course in little eddies, backing its waters into shaded, still pools, +where the pickerel loved to hide. + +They were lazy fellows, the pickerel. One might, if he were a lucky and +persevering fisherman, take a trout in the swift waters of the brook; +but for the pickerel, theirs was not the joy of such exertion. In the +dark, silent places along Mill stream, where never a ripple disturbed +their seclusion, you might see one, now and then, lying motionless in +the shadow of an overhanging branch, at the surface of the water, as +though asleep. + +They were not eager to bite then, in the warmth of the day. You might +troll by the edges of the lily pads for half an hour, and the pickerel +that made his haunt there would scarce wink a sleepy eye, or flicker a +fin. At morn and evening they were ready for you; and a quick, sudden +whirl in the glassy, black water often gave invitation then to cast a +line. + +In the early hours of a July morning, a little way up from Ellison's +dam, a youth stood up to his middle among the lily pads, wielding a +long, jointed bamboo pole, and trolling a spoon-hook past the outer +fringe of the flat, green leaves. He was whistling, softly--an +indication that he was happy. He was sunburned, freckle-faced, hatless, +coatless. He wore only a thin and faded cotton blouse, the sleeves of it +rolled up, and a pair of trousers, rolled up above his knees--for +convenience rather than to protect them, for he had waded in, waist +deep. + +Tied about him was a piece of tarred rope, from which there dangled the +luckless victims of his skill, three pickerel. That they were freshly +caught was evidenced by their flopping vigorously now and then, as the +boy entered the deeper water, and opening their big, savage looking +mouths as though they would like to swallow their captor. + +A splash out yonder, just beside the clump of arrow-shaped pickerel +weed! Tim Reardon's heart beat joyfully, as he turned and saw the +ripples receding from the spot where the fish had jumped. He swung his +long rod, dropped the troll skilfully near the blue blossoms that +adorned the clump of weed, and drew it temptingly past. The spoon +revolved rapidly, gleaming with alternate red and silver, the bright +feathers that clothed the gang of hooks at the end trailing after. + +Another splash, and a harder one. Tim Reardon "struck" and the fish was +fast. Now it lashed the water furiously, fighting for its life. But it +was not a big fish, and Tim Reardon lifted it clear of the water so that +it swung in where he could clutch it with eager hands. Grasping it just +back of the gills, he disengaged the hook cautiously, avoiding the sharp +rows of teeth that lined the long jaws. He slung the pickerel on the +line, and whistled gleefully. + +It was a royal day for fishing; with just a thin shading of clouds to +shield the water from the glare of sun; the water still and smooth; the +shadows very black in the shady places. + +It is safe to say, no one in all Benton knew the old stream like Tim +Reardon. He fished it day after day from morn till evening, before and +after school hours, and now in the vacation at all times. Tom Harris and +Bob White knew it as canoeists; but Tim Reardon, following the ins and +outs of its shores for miles above the Ellison dam, knew every little +turn and twist in its shore. + +He knew the places where the pickerel hid; where the water was swift, or +shallow, or choked with weeds, and where to leave the shore and make a +detour through the grain fields past these places. There were deep pools +where the pickerel seldom rose to the troll, but asked to have their +dinner sent down to them in the form of a fresh shiner; and Tim Reardon +knew these pools, and when to remove the troll and put on his sinker and +live bait. + +He could have told you every inch of the country between Ellison's dam +and the falls four miles above; where you would find buckwheat fields; +where the corn patches were; where apple orchards bordered them; where +the groves of beech-trees were, with the red squirrel colonies in the +stumps near-by; and where the best place was to pause for noon luncheon, +in the shade of some pines, where there was a spring bubbling up cool on +the hottest days, in which you could set a bottle of coffee and have it +icy cold in a half-hour. + +There were big hemlocks along the way, in the rotted parts of which the +yellow-hammers built their nests and laid their white eggs; hard trees +to climb, with their huge trunks. He knew the time to scale the tall +pines where the crows built, to find the scrawny young birds, with +wide-open mouths and skinny bodies, that looked like birds visited by +famine. He knew where the red columbines blossomed on the face of some +tall cliffs, where the stream flowed through a rocky gorge; and how to +crawl painfully down a zigzag course from the top to gather these, at +the risk of falling seventy feet to the rocks below. + +There were a thousand and one delights of the old stream that were a joy +to his heart--though one would not have expected to find sentiment +lodged in the breast of Little Tim. As for the boy, he only knew that +it was all very dear to him, and that the whole valley of the stream was +a source of perpetual happiness. + +He waded ashore now and went on, his pole over his shoulder, whistling, +filled with an enjoyment that he could not for the world have described; +but which was born amid the singing of the stream, the droning of bees, +the noises of birds and insects, in a lazy murmur that filled all the +quiet valley. + +It was rare fun following the winding of that stream; among little +hills, by the edges of meadows and through groves of mingled cedars and +birches. Now and then he would rest and watch its noiseless flowing, +past some spot where the branches hung close over the water; where the +stream flowed so smoothly and quietly that the shadows asleep on its +surface were never disturbed. + +The noon hour came, and Little Tim seated himself for his luncheon on a +knoll carpeted with thick, tufted grass. A kingfisher, disturbed by his +arrival, went rattling on his way upstream. And as the boy drew from his +dingy blouse a scrap of brown paper, enclosing a bit of bread and +cheese, and laid it down beside him, the stream seemed to be dancing +just before him at the tune he whistled; a swinging, whirling dance from +shore to shore; a butterfly dance, through a setting of buttercups and +daisies; with here and there a shaft of sunlight thrown upon it, where +the thin clouds parted. + +Afternoon came, and the shadows of the low hills were thrown far across +the stream. Here and there a splash denoted that the fish were waking +from their midday torpor and were ready for prey. Little Tim resumed his +rod, and slowly retraced his steps along the shore in the direction of +Ellison dam and Benton. + +It was about four o'clock as he neared a point in the stream a half-mile +above the dam, where the water flowed very quietly past the edge of some +thick alders. There were pickerel in that water. Tim knew the place of +old; and he drew near softly, to make a cast. The bright troll fell with +a tinkle on the still surface, and he drew it temptingly past the +thicket. + +A quick whirl--and how the line did tauten and the rod bend! The whole +tip of it went under water. He had struck a big fish. He brought him to +the surface with some effort; but the fish was not to be easily subdued. +A sudden dart and he was away again, diving deep and straining the rod +to its utmost. + +Seeing he had a fish of unusual size, the boy played him carefully; let +him have the line and tire himself for a moment, then reeled in as the +line slackened. + +"He's a four pounder; giminy, how he fights!" exclaimed Little Tim. And +he gave a sudden yell of triumph as he saw that the fish was firmly +hooked, with the troll far down its distended jaws. + +Then his impatience got the better of him, and he gave a great lift on +the rod, with the line reeled up short. Just at that moment too, it +seemed the fish had tired; for, as Tim strained, the big pickerel came +out of water as with a leap. The stout rod straightened with a jerk that +yanked the fish out, sent it flying through the air and lodged it away +up in the top of some thick alders that bordered the shore. There, the +line tangling, it hung suspended, twisting and doubling in vain effort +to free itself. + +Little Tim laughed joyfully. + +"Got to shin for that fellow," he said, stepping ashore and eying the +prize that dangled above his head. + +But, as he stooped to lay down his pole, the discharge of a shotgun +close at hand made him jump with astonishment. Still more amazed was he +to see the dangling fish fall between the alder branches to the ground. +Then, before he had recovered from his astonishment, a youth dashed +forward and seized it. + +The youth was Benny Ellison. + +Little Tim's blood was up. + +"Think you're smart, don't you," he cried, "shooting my fish. Here, +gimme that. What do you think you're doing?" + +But Benny Ellison, holding the big pickerel away from Tim, showed no +intention of giving it up. + +"Who told you it was your fish?" he replied, sneeringly. "I shot it. +It's mine." + +"Give me back that fish!" repeated Little Tim. "I'll tell Harvey on you. +You'll get another ducking." + +He seized Benny Ellison by an arm, but the other, bigger and stronger, +pushed him back roughly. + +"Go on," he said, and added, while a grin overspread his fat face, +"That's no fish, anyway. Whoever heard of catching fish in trees? That's +a bird, Timmy, and I shot it. See its tail-feathers?" + +He swung the fish and gave Little Tim a slap over the head with the tail +of it, that brought the tears to Tim's eyes. + +"Go on, tell Harvey," he said. "This bird's mine." + +Dangling the pickerel by the gills, and shouldering his gun, he pushed +on upstream through the alders, leaving Little Tim angry and smarting. + +"I'll get even with you, Benny Ellison," called Tim; but the other only +laughed and went on. + +Tim slowly unjointed his rod, tied the pieces together in a compact +bundle, gathered up his string of remaining fish and started homeward. +When he had gone on about a quarter of a mile, however, he suddenly +paused and stood for a moment, considering something. Then he looked +about him, stepped into a little thicket where he hid his pole and fish +carefully from sight, then retraced his steps upstream. + +He went on through the alders and brush, till presently he heard the +report of the gun. Guided by the sound, he continued on for a little +way, then shinned into the branches of a tall cedar, heavily wooded, and +from there got a view upstream. Several rods away, he could see the +alders move, thrust aside by Benny Ellison. Little Tim seated himself +amid the branches, safely hidden, and waited. + +Some ten or fifteen minutes passed, and then the snapping of underbrush +told of the approach of Benny Ellison, on his return. That his shot had +told was evidenced by another pickerel which he carried, hung by the +gills on the crotch of an alder branch, together with the big fellow +that Little Tim had caught. Tim's eyes snapped as he saw the fish. + +Benny Ellison, chuckling to himself, passed the tree where Tim crouched, +high above him. Almost within the shadow of it, he stopped and laughed +heartily, as he glanced down at the big pickerel. + +"It's a bird," he cried. "Shot it in a tree--what luck!" + +Not until he had gone some distance did Little Tim emerge from hiding, +scramble to the ground and follow. Dodging from tree to tree, and +pausing frequently, he saw Benny Ellison finally seat himself on a log +beside the stream. Tim waited. Then a smile of satisfaction crossed his +freckled face as Benny Ellison began stripping off his clothes for a +swim. + +Little Tim, crouching low, almost crawling, crept closer. + +Benny Ellison stood on a bank by the edge of a deep pool, a favourite +swimming-place, where he and his cousins, and Little Tim, too, had had +many a swim. The water was inviting, with the sultriness of the +afternoon. Tim's heart beat high as he saw Benny Ellison plunge +headforemost into the pool. + +Then Tim's hopes were realized. Benny Ellison, a good swimmer, struck +out into midstream toward a reef that protruded a few feet above water. + +Crawling on hands and knees, Tim quickly gained the shelter of the log +where the other had thrown his clothes, with the fish dropped just +alongside. Tim made sure of his fish, first. He pulled it hastily from +the stick, leaving the one that Benny Ellison had shot, afterwards, +unmolested for the moment. + +Then he dragged Benny Ellison's cotton shirt down behind the log. +Seizing the sleeves, he proceeded to tie the thin garment into hard +knots. It was the old schoolboy trick. He had had it played on him many +a time in swimming--and done the same by others; but he had never +entered into the prank with half the zest as now. He tugged at the knots +and drew them hard. + +"That shirt's a bird," he said softly, eying the shapeless bundle, with +a grin. Then he served the trousers and the "galluses" the same way; +likewise Benny Ellison's socks. Finally, having it all dona to suit him, +he stood erect upon the log and called out to the swimmer. + +"Say, Benny," he cried, "here's your bird." And, stooping and picking up +Benny Ellison's pickerel, he hurled the dead fish far out into the +stream. The fish struck the water with a splash, as Benny Ellison, +turning in dismay and wrath, started back with vigorous strokes. + +"There's another bird on the log for you, Benny," called Tim. Then, +picking up his own fish, he scampered. Benny Ellison's slower steps +could not have equalled the pace set by those bare feet, had he been +ashore. By the time he was on land again, Little Tim, his pole and +string of fish regained, was half-way to the Ellison dam. + +A voice stopped him as he was emerging on to the main road, just below +Witham's Half Way House. He turned and saw Bess Thornton. + +"Hello, Tim," she called, "what's the matter? Anybody after you? My, but +I guess you've been running fast." + +Tim Reardon, wiping his face with his sleeves, told her what had +happened. The girl danced with glee, while her bright eyes sparkled. + +"Oh, goody!" she exclaimed. "Wouldn't I just like to have seen that fat +old Benny Ellison try to catch you. My, but you always have the luck, +don't you? That's a grand string of fish." + +Tim Reardon, unstringing two of the pickerel from the rope, transferred +them to a twig of alder that he cut from a near by bush, and handed them +to her. + +"I've got more'n I want," he said. + +"Thanks," said the girl, and added, "Say, Tim, I'll tell you something. +I saw four trout in the brook this morning, and one of them was that +long." + +She measured with her hands, held a little more than a foot apart. + +"Where was it--about a mile above your house?" queried Tim. + +The girl nodded. + +"In the pool where the big tree's fallen across," she said. + +"I guess he's the big one I've tried to get, a lot of times," said Tim. +"But I haven't seen him lately. I thought he'd gone down into Ellison's +pool. I'd like to see him." + +He was a fisherman by nature, was Little Tim, and the very mention of +the big trout made his eyes twinkle. + +"Come on up," said Bess Thornton. + +Tim hesitated. "It's most too late," he replied. "I'll be late to supper +now, if I don't run." + +"Oh, never mind," she urged. "I'll show you just where I saw him. I just +as lieve you'd catch him." + +The invitation was too much for Tim, and he started off across the +fields with Bess Thornton. + +"That fish'll never bite," he said, as they went along; "I've tried him +with worms and grasshoppers and wasps and crickets, and that fly made of +feathers that Jack gave me. He knows a whole lot, that old trout. Guess +he's a school-teacher, he knows so much." + +"I'm going to catch him, anyway, if you don't," said the girl. "I know +what I'm going to do." + +"What's that?" asked Tim, in a tone that indicated he had no great faith +in her success. + +"I'm going to bait up two hooks with a whole lot of worms, and I'm not +going to put 'em into the pool till after it gets dark," replied Bess +Thornton. "And I'm going to let 'em stay there all night. He's such a +sly old thing you can't get near the bank without he knows it. Then when +it gets morning, and he's hungry, perhaps he'll see all those worms and +just go and catch himself." + +"Yes, and get away again long before you get back," said Tim Reardon. +"He'll just take and tangle that line all up around the rocks and sticks +at the bottom, and break it." + +"I'm going to try, anyway," she insisted. They turned in at the path +leading to the girl's home presently, and she went in with the pickerel. + +"I'll dig some bait for you while you're gone," called Tim. + +"I can do it," she said. + +"Oh, you're all dressed up," said Tim, who had noted her unusual +appearance, clad as she was in her new bright sailor-suit. + +"Going to change it," she said, "Had to put it on to go to Benton in." + +She went into the house, and Tim Reardon, seizing a spade that he found +leaning against the shed, made his way to a corner of the house, where +an old water-spout came down, from the gutter that caught the rain on +the roof. He was turning up the soil there when the girl reappeared. + +"Oh, that isn't the place to dig," she said. "I never dig for worms +there." + +"Well, here's the place to find 'em," asserted Tim. "I'm getting some. +You always find angleworms where the ground's moist. They like it, +because the rain comes down off the roof here. There you are, grab that +fat fellow." + +The girl made a grab at a bit of the soft earth, where a worm was +wriggling back into its hole. + +"Ugh! he got away," she said, opening her hand and letting the dirt drop +through her fingers. The next moment she uttered a little cry of +surprise. + +"I've got something, though," she exclaimed. "Look, Tim, it's +money--it's a coin. Where do you suppose it came from? Perhaps it's good +yet. If I can spend it, I'll go halves." + +The boy took the piece of money from her fingers. It was dull and +tarnished; a little larger in size than a ten cent piece, but it was not +silver. + +Tim Reardon looked at it intently and rubbed its sides on his trousers +leg. + +"Say, Bess," he said earnestly, "do you know what I think--I guess it's +gold. Yes, I do. 'Tisn't American money, though. It's got a queer head +on it, see, a man with some sort of a thing on his head like a wreath. +Oh, my, but that's too bad. Look, Bess, there's a hole been bored in it. +P'raps you can't spend it." + +Near the edge, there was, in truth, a tiny depression, nearly obscured +by dirt and corrosion, which seemed to indicate that the coin had at +some time been pierced, as though it might have been worn by someone as +an ornament. + +"Let's scrub it," said the girl. "Perhaps it'll brighten up, so we can +see it better." + +They went in with it to the kitchen sink, where Bess Thornton, getting +a basin of warm water and soap, proceeded to polish the coin with a +small brush. It soon brightened sufficiently to reveal the unmistakable +gleam of gold, and was a foreign coin of some sort, possibly of Austrian +coinage; but the letters which it had borne, and the figures, had been +worn much away; and one side was worn quite smooth, so as to give no +clew to what had been stamped there. + +"Well, I can wear it, if I can't spend it," said Bess Thornton. "There's +the hole to hang it by. Isn't it pretty?" + +"Isn't what pretty?" said a voice, suddenly interrupting them. Old +Granny Thornton was peering over the girl's shoulder. "What are you two +doing? What have you got there?" + +"See, gran'," replied the girl. "Look what we found. It's money, gran', +and it's gold." + +The old woman took the coin in her thin fingers and held it up close to +her eyes. Then she started and her hand shook tremulously. A pallor +overspread her face. She sank back into a chair, staring at the coin, +which she clutched tight as though it had some strange fascination that +held her gaze. + +"Where did you get that?" she cried hoarsely. "Where was it?" + +"We dug it up just now, gran', out in the yard. Why, what's the matter? +Can't I keep it? What makes you act so queer, gran'?" + +The old woman hesitated for a moment and seemed lost for a reply. Then +she said, hurriedly: + +"No, girl--no, not now. You shall have it some day. You can't have it +yet. It isn't time. You wore it once when you were little--but it was +lost. Oh, how I've hunted for it! You'll get it again. I'll keep it +safe, this time." + +She was strangely agitated and spoke in broken tones. Then, to their +surprise, she arose and hurried from the room, waving the girl back and +bidding her go and play. They heard her go stumbling up the stairs to +the floor above. + +"Mean old thing!" exclaimed Bess. "Well, I don't care. Let her keep it. +I'll find where she hides it, see if I don't. Come on, let's go out +doors." + +Granny Thornton, peering out an attic window at the boy and girl, going +up along the brook, turned and felt along a dusty beam until her fingers +rested on a key. With this she unlocked a drawer of an old bureau, that +stood in a dark, out-of-the-way corner. There were some odds and ends of +clothing there, and some boxes and papers. From out the stuff, she drew, +with trembling fingers, a small gold chain, such as children wear. +Fumbling over this, she unclasped a tiny clasp and affixed the golden +coin. Then, holding it up to her eyes, she gazed at it long and +earnestly; replaced it in the drawer, locked this, hid the key again and +stole down the stairs. + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + +A SAILING ADVENTURE + + +John Ellison, a youth of about fifteen, but of a sturdy build and manner +that might lead one to suppose him older, stood by the gateway of the +Ellison farm, looking down across the fields towards the mill. It was +busy grinding and, as its monotonous tones came up to him, the boy shook +his head sadly. An expression as of anger overspread his manly young +face, and his cheeks flushed. + +"It's wrong," he exclaimed, speaking his thoughts aloud; "I'll bet +there's some trick about it. Father always said we should run the mill +some day. It makes me mad to see old Witham sneaking about, afraid to +look any of us in the face; but I suppose there's no help for it." + +He went up the driveway to the house, got an axe from the woodshed and +began splitting some pieces of sawed oak and hickory from a great pile +in the yard. It was a relief to his pent-up feelings, and he drove the +axe home with powerful blows. He was a strong, handsome youth, with face +and arms healthily bronzed with work in the open air. He laid a big junk +of the oak across the chopping-block, swung the axe, and cleft the +stick with a single blow that sent the halves flying in either +direction. + +"That was a good stroke--a corker," exclaimed a youth who had entered +the yard and come up quietly behind him. John Ellison turned quickly. + +"Hello, Henry," he said. "Where'd you come from?" + +"Just had a swim," replied Henry Burns. "I see where you get all that +muscle, now. That's good as canoeing, I guess." + +"Well," responded John Ellison, looking rather serious, "I reckon I'll +do more of it from now on than canoeing; though I've done my share of +work all along. I'm running the farm now--that is, what we've got left. +Witham's got a good part of it. I suppose you know, don't you?" + +Henry Burns nodded. "It's a shame," he said. "But perhaps it'll come out +right in the end." + +"I don't see how," said John Ellison. "Witham's got the mill, and the +big wood lot where we used to cut most of the wood we sold every fall, +and the great meadow up opposite old Granny Thornton's, with the +hayfield in it. We've got enough left close by here to keep us from +starving, all right; but it isn't what it ought to be. We've had to sell +half the cows, because we can't feed them." + +Henry Burns whistled. "It's tough," he said, and added, doubtfully, "How +about that week up at the pond? Can you go?" + +John Ellison looked downcast. "I'd forgotten all about that," he said. +"We did plan for a week at Old Whitecap, didn't we? I'm afraid it's all +up for me, though. There's haying to be done, a lot of wood to be cut, +and chores. I guess you'll have to count me out. I might let Jim go for +a couple of days, though," he added, speaking as though he were a dozen +years older than his brother, instead of only one. + +"No, you're the one that was going," responded Henry Burns; "you could +go if the work were done, couldn't you?" + +"Perhaps," replied John Ellison; "but there's enough there to take us +more than a fortnight. Benny don't count for much; he's too lazy." + +"Well, we'll get the work done, all right," said Henry Burns; "and then +we'll take you with us." + +John Ellison laughed. "You city fellows wouldn't like farm work, much, I +guess," he said. + +He hardly took Henry Burns seriously, especially as the latter spoke but +little more about the project; but, the next day, looking up from his +work, at the sound of wagon wheels, he saw a cart coming up the hill, +laden with baggage and a party of boys. Tom Harris was driving, and +beside him on the seat were Bob White and Henry Burns. In the body of +the cart were Jack Harvey and Tim Reardon. These two were seated amidst +a pile of camp stuff. + +"Well, we're here," said Henry Burns, laughing, as the boys piled out of +the cart. "Hope you've got something for us all to do. You'll find us +green, but we won't shirk." + +John Ellison stared at them in amazement. "You better go on out to the +pond," he said. "I don't want to keep you fellows. Perhaps Jim and I can +get out for a couple of days before you come in. Besides, you want to +look out for Benny," he added, winking at Henry Burns. "He says he's +going to thrash you some day." + +"Oh, I'm all right," laughed Henry Burns. "I've got Jack here to help me +out now. What'll we do, John? Come on, we're losing time." + +"Well, if you really want to," replied John Ellison, somewhat +reluctantly, "two of you can go down in the haying field and help Jim; +and there's this wood's got to be split, and the corn and potatoes to be +hoed." He pointed, as he spoke, to two great fields of the latter. +"We'll set Tim catching potato bugs," he added, smiling. + +"I'll catch 'em," responded Tim, heartily. "I wonder what kind of bait +they'd make for trout." + +They divided up then, Tom and Bob, equipped with pitchforks, starting +off for the haying field; Henry Burns and Tim following John Ellison +into the garden; while Harvey, his waist stripped to a faded sleeveless +jersey, attacked the woodpile with a strength and energy that made up +for his lack of familiarity with the work. + +He was busily engaged when Mrs. Ellison looked out at the kitchen door. + +"Why," she said, in surprise, "I didn't know we had a new hand. Oh, I +see, you're one of the boys' friends." + +Harvey explained. + +"Well, I call that good of you," exclaimed Mrs. Ellison, her pleasant, +motherly face beaming. "Let the boys go after it's done? Why, of course. +They can both go. Benny will help me through the week, all right, won't +you, Benny?" + +The youth thus addressed, who had just put in an appearance, his gun +over his shoulder, assented, though not with much heartiness. He scowled +at Harvey, and made no offer to be friendly. + +"I suppose you want to go on the pond, too," said Mrs. Ellison, +sympathetically. + +Benny Ellison glanced sullenly at Harvey. "Not with those city chaps," +he replied. + +The "city chaps," sneeringly referred to by Benny Ellison, proved +themselves good workmen, however. Unused to farm labour, as they were, +their muscles were, however, far from being soft and easily tired. Tom +and Bob, who excelled at athletics, surprised Jim Ellison with the +amount of hay they could stack up into cocks, or, again, the amount they +could spread and scatter; and they were tireless in following him +through all the broad field. Henry Burns and Little Tim were of the wiry +sort that never seemed to weary; while Harvey made the pile of split +wood grow in a way that made Mrs. Ellison's eyes stick out. + +Then, at noon, when the big farm dinner-bell rang, there was a great +table spread for them in the long dining-room, fairly creaking with an +array of good things to eat; with plenty of rich milk and doughnuts and +home-made gingerbread to finish up with. Little Tim's thin face seemed +to be almost bulging when he had done; and he ate his sixth doughnut in +gallant style. + +He was nearly wild with delight, too, late that afternoon, when he got +permission to fish the famous Ellison trout pool; and he came back in +time for supper with a fine string of the fish, brilliantly spotted +fellows, which Mrs. Ellison fried to a crisp for the crew of boy farmers +when their day's work was over. + +There came a little knock at the door when they were eating supper, and +Bess Thornton, come for a pitcher of milk, looked in at the group of +merry youngsters. + +"My, what fun!" she exclaimed, and speaking half to herself added, "I +wish I lived here too. Gran' said--" + +"What's that? Why, I wish you did live here," exclaimed Mrs. Ellison, +stepping back with the pitcher in her hands at the girl's words, and +looking into her bright, eager face with eyes that suddenly moistened. +"I wish you did," she repeated. "Why don't you ever come in, when you +come for the milk? Come in now and have some supper with the boys?" + +But the girl started back, almost timidly. + +"Oh, I can't," she said, "I didn't think what I was saying. Gran' says +never to stay--to hurry back. She doesn't like to have me come for the +milk, but she can't come, herself." + +And, true to her instructions, she departed promptly, when she had +received the pitcher, well filled--almost double what the money she had +brought would usually buy. + +"She's a queer little sprite," was Mrs. Ellison's comment, as she +watched her go down the path; "but there's something fine and brave +about her. Who wouldn't be queer, living all alone with old Granny +Thornton?" + +The two weeks' farming that John Ellison had reckoned on was through +with in five days, thanks to the energy of the volunteer crew. They +enjoyed it, too; the work in the bright fields; the jolly meals at the +Ellison table; the nights in the big hay-barn, with blankets spread in +the mow; the evening's swim in the stream just before supper. + +And, on the sixth day, John and James Ellison went away on the wagon, +with clear consciences and light hearts, and with Mrs. Ellison waving a +farewell to them from the door of the shed. It was cramped quarters for +them all in the wagon, with the camping equipment, jolting along the +country roads; and they walked most of the hills. But the journey was a +jubilant one, and they welcomed the first gleaming of Whitecap pond with +whoops of delight. + +Whitecap pond seemed to return the welcome, too; for it twinkled all +over in the light of an afternoon sun, as they set up the two tents that +were to house them; and it sent in its light ripples dancing merrily +almost to the very door of the tents; a splash now and then in the still +waters told them of fishing delights to come. The white, fine sand of +its shores was soft as carpet to their feet, as they ran races along +the shore, and took a swim by moonlight before they turned in for the +night's rest. + +They liked the wildness of the loon's weird hullo, coming in at the open +flaps of the tents from afar; and the clumsy fluttering and flapping of +great beetles against the canvas, attracted by the lantern light that +shone through. The cawing of crows just above their heads awoke them +early next morning. + +They were out for perch and bass before the sun was high, and were in +luck, for the fish were plenty; and the perch chowder that Bob, who was +an old and experienced camper, made for the noon meal was a wonderful +achievement, and reminded them of old times in Samoset Bay. + +But there was one drawback--at least, for Henry Burns and Harvey, who +were hankering for the grip of a tiller and the thrill of a boat under +sail. There wasn't a sailboat to be hired on the pond. There were not +many, and they were all engaged. Coombs, who owned the slip and the +boats, said he hadn't done such a business in years. He could only let +them have two rowboats. Yet they came into the use of one, two days +later, through an adventure. + +It was early in the afternoon, and Henry Burns and Harvey and Little Tim +stood on the float at Coombs's landing, looking at a sailboat that lay +at its berth alongside. It was not exactly a handsome craft; with too +great length for its beam, and its lines drawn out so fine astern that +it bade fair to be somewhat cranky. It had no cabin, and there was +seating room for a large party--a design calculated more for profit than +safety. + +The boat was in evident poor condition, lacking paint, and its rigging +frayed, a not uncommon condition with boats to let in small waters of +this sort. Somewhat crude lettering on the stern spelled the name, +_Flyaway_. + +"Looks as though she might fly away with somebody, all right, if he +didn't look out," remarked Harvey, grinning at his companions. "Wish we +had her, though, for a week. We'd take a chance, eh, Henry?" + +Henry Burns nodded. "Let's see 'em start off in her," he said. + +They waited about, and presently there appeared on the landing the +present claimant of the _Flyaway_. He was a big, bluff, hearty man, +florid face, loud of voice, a free and easy manner, and he was dressed +for the occasion in yachting clothes of unmistakable newness. He eyed +the _Flyaway_ with an assumption of nautical wisdom and experience. + +"That's a good-looking boat, Captain Coombs," he said, in tones that +could be heard far away. "She's all right; just what I want. I like a +boat with plenty of room for the ladies to be comfortable." + +"Well, I reckon she's the best boat on Whitecap pond," responded the +man, while his small eyes twinkled shrewdly. "Just humour her a bit, and +I reckon she'll go where anything of her size will. She's seen some +rough times on this pond." + +The appearance of the _Flyaway_ seemed to bear out this statement. + +"Sure you can handle her all right, are you, Mr. Bangs?" added Captain +Coombs, eying his customer with a quick, sidelong glance. + +"Well, I reckon," was the bluff reply. + +Captain Coombs, possibly not all assured, gave an inquiring look toward +a man who was busy cleaning a rowboat close by, and who seemed to be an +interested party of some sort, probably a partner. The man drew his +right eye down in an unmistakable wink, and glanced up at the sky. Then +he nodded, shrugging his shoulders at the same time, as though he might +have said, "There's no wind; we'll take a chance." + +There was, indeed, scarcely a breath of wind blowing, and there was no +present prospect of any. + +Mr. Bangs's party began now to arrive: a somewhat fleshy, and withal +nervous and agitated lady, who proved to be Mrs. Bangs; two young girls, +an angular lady carrying a fat pug dog in her arms, and a small boy. + +"Aha, we're all here," cried Mr. Bangs, joyfully. "Let's get aboard and +be off. Splendid day for a sail, eh, Captain Coombs?" + +"Couldn't be better," replied Coombs, dryly. "Are those oars in her, +Dan?" + +"Why, you don't suppose I'm going to row her, do you?" laughed Mr. +Bangs. + +"We sometimes has to, when we doesn't want to," said Coombs +laconically. "No fun staying out all night if the wind dies out." + +"Oh, yes, of course," responded Mr. Bangs. "Get aboard, ladies." + +"I don't believe you know how to sail a boat, Augustus," said Mrs. +Bangs, eying her husband doubtfully. "Are you sure you do?" + +"Nonsense!" snorted Mr. Bangs. "Don't be getting nervous, now. Don't you +know I was elected commodore of the Green Pond Fishing Club only two +weeks ago?" + +Mr. Bangs refrained from communicating the fact that the principal +occupation of the members of the Green Pond Fishing Club was the mixing +of certain refreshing liquids in tall glasses, and sipping them on the +verandah of a clubhouse. + +The party therefore embarked. Mrs. Bangs was not wholly at ease, +however. + +"Supposing there isn't any wind by and by, Augustus, and you have to +row. Why don't you take somebody along, to help? We've got lots to eat." + +This idea, at least, seemed to strike Mr. Bangs favourably. He glanced +to where Henry Burns and his companions stood. + +"Hello," he called, "want to go out for a sail? Got room enough. Take +you along." + +The three boys stepped toward the boat. + +"Not scared of the water, are you?" queried Mr. Bangs. + +"Not unless it gets rough," replied Henry Burns, with a sly wink at +Harvey. + +The three jumped aboard, and Coombs, with something like a grin at his +partner, shoved the boat's head off. He had got the jib and mainsail up, +and they caught what little breeze there was stirring. The _Flyaway_ +drew away from the landing. To Bangs's embarrassment, however, the boom +suddenly swung inboard, swiped across the stern, causing him to duck +hastily, and almost knocking the bonnet off the lady with the pug dog. +Mr. Bangs had jibed the boat, greatly to his surprise. But no harm had +been done, as the wind was light. + +Mr. Bangs laughed loudly. "Meant to tell you that was coming," he said. +"She'll sail better this way. Ever been on the water before, boys?" + +Harvey nodded. "A little," he said. + +"Well, the more you are used to it, the better you'll like it," said Mr. +Bangs. "Don't mind if she tips a little, if we get any wind. She sails +that way. Funny that jib flutters so. Better haul in on that rope there +and--and trim it." + +Henry Burns, soberly following orders, did as requested. But it was +noticeable that the trimming did not seem to accomplish the result +desired by Mr. Bangs. In fact, as the _Flyaway_ was going dead before +the wind, it was quite apparent that no amount of trimming would make +the jib draw. + +"It keeps on fluttering just the same, Augustus," said Mrs. Bangs, eying +the offending sail suspiciously. "Hadn't you better tie it some way?" + +"Of course not," responded Mr. Bangs, loftily. "They will act that way +sometimes. Isn't that so, my lads?" + +"Oh yes," replied Henry Burns. "I've seen 'em do it, haven't you, Jack?" + +But Harvey was looking the other way. + +They went slowly up the pond, with Mr. Bangs holding the tiller and +watching the sail critically. He was in buoyant spirits, and entertained +them with stories of the thrilling adventures of the Green Pond Fishing +Club, in which he seemed to have figured prominently. + +The wind freshened a little and the _Flyaway_ drew ahead somewhat +faster. There was just the suspicion of a ripple along the sides, and it +was pleasant sailing. Two miles up the pond they dropped the sail and +anchored; got out the fish lines and tried for bass. After which, Mr. +Bangs, a generous host, opened up a huge hamper and spread out a +luncheon that made Little Tim's mouth water. + +"Nothing like sailing to give one an appetite," exclaimed Mr. Bangs, +heartily. "Pitch in, boys. There's plenty of grub. I believe in having +enough to eat, I do." + +He was so busily and pleasantly engaged in eating that he paid no heed +to the aspect of the sky. Nor, indeed, was there anything of very +serious import in its changes. But Henry Burns, alert as ever, saw +certain signs of wind in some light banks of cloud that began to gather +in the western sky, in the direction of Coombs's landing. + +"We won't have to row home," he said presently, addressing the skipper +of the _Flyaway_, who was absorbed in the enjoyment of a huge slice of +meat pie. + +"Eh, what's that?" he inquired. "What do you mean?" + +"We're going to have some wind," replied Henry Burns. + +"Well, that's what we want, for sailing," laughed Mr. Bangs. "You aren't +anxious to row, are you?" + +"Not particularly," replied Henry Burns. "We won't have to, anyway. It's +going to blow some. We'll take some spray in over the bows beating +back--" + +"What's that?" exclaimed Mrs. Bangs. "Augustus, do you hear? Let's start +right away. We don't want to get wet." + +"Ho!" sniffed Mr. Bangs. But just then a quick gust of wind swept over +them, such as comes without warning in pond waters, bordered by hills. +Mr. Bangs seemed to take the hint it conveyed. "Guess we'd better +start," he said. + +The boys sprang to the halyards; the sails were hoisted and the anchor +got aboard. With Mr. Bangs at the tiller, the _Flyaway_ started on the +beat of two miles down the pond. The wind continued to freshen, coming +now and then in flaws, as the light clouds overspread the sky. + +Henry Burns, noting the style of Mr. Bangs's yachtsmanship, and +observing the freshening of the wind, and the fact that the craft was +not being worked to windward anywhere near what it would go, slipped +astern beside Mr. Bangs. + +"Like to have me tend that sheet for you?" he asked, carelessly. + +Mr. Bangs waved him back. "Don't touch that, my lad," he cried. "You +might upset us in a minute. Never let a boy fool with a sheet--hello!" + +A sharper and heavier flaw caught the big mainsail with full force; and +then, as Mr. Bangs in his excitement threw the tiller over and headed +the yacht farther off the wind, instead of up into it, the _Flyaway_ +heeled dangerously, taking water over the side and causing the pug dog, +which got a drenching, to howl dolorously. Mrs. Bangs gave a slight +scream. + +"Oh, it's all right. Don't be alarmed," said Mr. Bangs, assuringly. He +failed to notice that prompt action on the part of Henry Burns, who had +started the sheet at the critical moment, had saved them from a spill; +and seemed to think that somehow he had righted things himself. However, +as he observed that youth calmly trimming the sail again, despite his +admonition to let the sheet alone, he seemed to have undergone a change +of heart. + +"That's right," he said, in a tone of not quite so much confidence, "you +just run that thing, while I do the steering." + +It began to get rough now, and the _Flyaway_ did not seem to justify +it's owner's praise. It threw the water heavily--partly by reason of its +clumsy build and partly because Mr. Bangs did not meet the waves with +the tiller. One might have observed, moreover, that Mr. Bangs wore an +anxious expression, and his hand shook slightly as he pressed the +tiller. + +A moment more, and he seemed almost dazed as the tiller was snatched +from his grasp by Henry Burns, who put the _Flyaway_ hard up into the +wind, just in time to meet a squall that threw the lee rail under again. +The craft stood still, almost, with the sail shivering. Then Henry Burns +eased her off gently, getting her under headway again. Mr. Bangs was +deathly pale. The spray had dashed aboard freely and drenched him. + +"We've got to reef, and be quick about it," said Henry Burns, addressing +the shivering skipper. "What do you say? It's your boat." + +"What's that--eh, do you think so?" stammered Mr. Bangs. "Reef her? Yes, +that'll stop her tipping, won't it? Oh my! can you do it?" + +His knees were wabbling, and he allowed himself to be pushed aside, +sinking down, pale and trembling on the seat. + +"Here, you take her, Jack," said Henry Burns. "Tim and I'll reef her. We +can do it quick." + +He relinquished the tiller to Harvey, who threw the boat up into the +wind, while Henry Burns and Tim seized the halyards and lowered the sail +sufficiently to take in a double reef. Henry Burns had the tack tied +down in a jiffy; whereupon Harvey drew the sail aft, hauled out on the +pendant and passed a lashing. Henry Burns and Little Tim had the reef +points tied in no time. Before Mr. Bangs's wondering eyes the sail was +hoisted, the topping lift set up, and the boat got under way again +before he had had hardly time to think what had happened. + +It was surprising to see how easily the craft went along under competent +management. The spray flew some and the water came aboard, wetting the +party to the skin and causing alarm; but there was little danger. The +_Flyaway_ no longer took the brunt of the waves, but headed into them a +little, keeping good headway on. What was better, she was making time, +going to windward and approaching the landing. + +Mr. Bangs gradually regained his colour, and took courage. + +"Guess you've sailed some before," he said, with a sickly smile. "You go +at it like old hands." + +"We've got a boat of our own," replied Harvey. "She's down in Samoset +bay. We got a big price for her for the summer, so we let her." + +Mr. Bangs looked a bit sheepish. + +"I'm glad you came along," he said; and added with a glance at Mrs. +Bangs, and in a lower tone, "I haven't sailed very much, to tell the +truth. We do--er--mostly rowing in the Green Pond Fishing Club." + +They came up to the landing in sailor fashion, and the party stepped +out. + +"Glad to see yer back," remarked Coombs. "Got just a bit worried about +you. You came in nicely, though." + +Mr. Bangs smiled good-naturedly. + +"Well," he said, "the fact is, I've got a crew. They are old sailors. +You ought to have seen them reef her quicker'n scat. They're going +along with me after this, for the rest of their stay--and their friends, +too. My wife says she's got enough sailing." + +"I should say I had," said Mrs. Bangs. + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + +THE FORTUNE-TELLER + + +Mr. Bangs proved to be a genial companion in the days that followed. +Nothing suited him better than to fill up the _Flyaway_ with the crew of +campers and go sailing on the pond. No longer seeking to support a +fallen dignity as skipper, he was pleased to receive instruction from +Henry Burns and Harvey, and even occasionally from Little Tim, in the +art of sailing. + +They showed him how to sail the craft nicely to windward, without the +sail shaking; how to run off the wind, with no danger of jibing her; how +to reef with safety, and how to watch the water for signs of squalls. +He, in turn, told them good stories of the Fishing Club; and, as he +really did know how to fish, he returned their instruction with lessons +in this art. + +It was certainly a pretty piece of sport, when Mr. Bangs would take his +light, split-bamboo fly-rod and send fifty feet of line, straightening +out its turns through the air, and dropping a tiny fly on the water as +easily as though it had fallen there in actual flight. Even Harvey, and +Tom and Bob, who had done some little fly fishing, found Mr. Bangs an +expert who could teach them more than they had ever dreamed, of its +possibilities. Little Tim, who had threshed brook waters with an alder +stick, using a ragged fly, was an apt pupil, when Mr. Bangs entrusted to +him his fine rod, and showed him how to make a real cast. + +"There, you're catching it, now," exclaimed Mr. Bangs to Tim, one +morning, as they floated on the still surface of the pond, about a half +mile above the camps. "Don't let your arm go too far back on that back +cast. Don't use your shoulder. You're not chopping wood. Just use the +wrist on the forward stroke, when you get the line moving forward." + +Tim, enthusiastic, tried again and again, striving to remember all +points at once, and now and then making a fair cast. + +It was only practice work; but, somehow or other, a big black bass +failed to understand that, and suddenly Tim's quick eye saw the water in +a whirl about his fly. He struck, and the fish was fast. + +"Well, by Jove!" exclaimed Mr. Bangs. "One never knows what's going to +happen when he's fishing. I didn't think they'd take the fly here at +this time of year. Let him have the line now, when he rushes. That's it. +Now hold him a little." + +The light fly-rod was bending nearly double. Intermittently, the reel +would sing as the fish made a dash for freedom and the line ran out. + +"Look out now; he's turned. Reel in," shouted Mr. Bangs, more excited +even than Little Tim. He wouldn't have had that fish get away for +anything. "Here he comes to the top," he continued. "Reel in on him. +Hold him. There, he's going to jump. Hold him. Don't let him shake the +hook out." + +The black bass, a strong active fish, made a leap out of water, shook +his jaws as though he would tear the hook loose, then shot downward +again. + +"Give him a little on the rod when he hits the water," cried Mr. Bangs. +"That's right. Keep him working now. Don't give him any slack." + +Little Tim, alternately reeling in and lifting on the road, and letting +the fish have the line in his angry-rushes, was playing him well. Mr. +Bangs applauded. Gradually the struggles of the big bass grew weaker. +His rushes, still sharp and fierce, were soon over. By and by he turned +on his side. + +"Careful now," cautioned Mr. Bangs. "Many a good bass is lost in the +landing. Draw him in easy." + +Little Tim followed instructions, and Mr. Bangs deftly slid the landing +net under the prize. He dipped the bass into the boat, took out a small +pair of pocket-scales and weighed him. + +"It's a five-pounder!" he exclaimed. "You've beat the record on Whitecap +this year. Well, fisherman's luck is a great thing. You're a born lucky +fisherman." + +"Now," he added, "we'll just row down to your camp and I'll cook a +chowder that'll make your eyes stick out, and have it all ready when the +boys return. Save them getting a breakfast." + +They went back along shore to the empty camp, deserted by the boys, who +were out for early morning fishing. + +"What do you say?" inquired Mr. Bangs, "Think they'll care if I go ahead +and cook up a chowder? Guess I can do it all right. Oh, I've seen 'em +made, a thousand times, up at the Fishing Club." + +"They'll be glad of it," said Little Tim. "Go ahead." + +Mr. Bangs, rummaging through the campers' stores, proceeded to construct +his chowder; while Tim busied himself about the camp, after building a +fire. + +Mr. Bangs, stirring the mess in a big iron kettle suspended above the +blaze, waved a welcome to the boys, as they came in. + +"Thought you'd like to have breakfast all ready," he cried. "The +_Flyaway's_ waiting for us all to get through." + +They thanked him warmly. + +"Oh, I'm having as much fun as you are out of it," he responded. "Get +your plates and I'll fill 'em up." + +He ladled out a heaping plate of the chowder for each, and they seated +themselves on two great logs. Henry Burns tasted his mess first, and +then he stopped, looked slyly at his comrades and didn't eat any more. +Harvey got a mouthful, and he gave an exclamation of surprise. Little +Tim swallowed some, and said "Oh, giminy!" Tom and Bob and the Ellison +brothers were each satisfied with one taste. They waited, expectantly, +for Mr. Bangs to get his. + +Mr. Bangs, helping himself liberally, started in hungrily. Then he +stopped and looked around. They were watching him, interestedly. Mr. +Bangs made a wry face and rinsed his mouth out with a big swallow of +water. + +"Well, I'll be hanged!" he exclaimed. "If it isn't sweet. Sweet chowder! +Oh dear, isn't it awful? What did it?" + +Henry Burns, looking about him, pointed to a tell-tale tin can which, +emptied of its contents, lay beside the fire. + +Mr. Bangs had made his chowder of condensed milk, sweet and sticky. + +"I say," he exclaimed, "just throw that stuff away and we'll go up to +the landing for breakfast. I thought milk was milk. I never thought +about it's being sweetened." + +They liked Mr. Bangs, in spite of his mistakes; and he wasn't abashed +for long, when he had pretended to be able to do something that he +didn't know how to do, and had been found out. He had a hearty way of +laughing about it, as though it were the best joke in all the world--and +there was one thing he could really do; he could cast a fly, and they +admired his skill in that. And when it came time for them to leave, and +bid him good-bye, they were heartily sorry to take leave of him, and +hoped they should meet him again. + +But Mr. Bangs was not to be gotten free from abruptly. There was +bottled soda and there were stale peanuts over at the landing, where +Coombs kept a small hotel a little way up from the shore; and Mr. Bangs +insisted that they should go over and have a treat at his expense. + +"You don't have to start till four o'clock," he urged. "You've got +plenty of time." And they needed no great amount of persuasion. + +"Funny old place Coombs keeps," he remarked, as they walked from the +camps over to the landing. "All sorts of queer people drop in there over +night. Last night, there were some show people in some of the rooms next +to mine--they're going to leave to-morrow, for the fair up at +Newbury--and they kept me awake half the night, with their racket. + +"They've got a fortune-teller among them, too," he continued. "Say, +she's a shrewd one. Of course, she's one of the fakers, but she's +downright smart--told me a lot of things about myself that were true. +Suppose she looked me over sharp. Say, I tell you what I'll do; I'll get +her to tell your fortunes. How'd you like to have your fortunes told? +I'll pay." + +As matter of fact, they were not so enthusiastic over it as was Mr. +Bangs; but they didn't like to say so, since he seemed to take it for +granted that they did. So, after they had had the soda and peanuts, Mr. +Bangs ushered them, one by one, into a room, where the fortune-teller +awaited them. + +Perhaps she flattered most of them over-much; perhaps she even hinted at +certain bright-eyed, yellow-haired young misses, whom some of them +might fancy, but were not of an age to admit it. At all events, as they +came forth, one by one, they made a great mystery of what she had said +to them. Little Tim didn't take kindly to the idea at all, in fact; and, +when it came his turn, Henry Burns and Harvey had to take him and shove +him into the room. + +He was inclined to be a bit abashed when he found himself in the +presence of a tall, dark, thin-faced woman, whose keen, black eyes +seemed to pierce him through and through. In fact, those shrewd, quick +eyes were about all anyone might need, to discover a good deal about +Little Tim, whose small but wiry figure, tanned face, bare feet and +dress indicated much of his condition in life. + +"Come over here and sit down," said the woman, as Tim stood, eying her +somewhat doubtfully. The boy complied. + +"So you want your fortune told, do you?" she asked. + +"I dunno as I care much about it," answered Tim, bluntly. + +The woman smiled a little. "No?" she said. "Let's see your hand." + +Tim extended a grimy fist across the table, the lines of which were so +obscured with the soil of Coombs's landing that it might have puzzled +more than a wizard to read them. But the woman, her keen eyes twinkling, +remarked quickly, "That's a fisherman's hand. You're the best fisherman +on the pond." + +Tim began to take more interest. "I've caught the biggest bass of the +year," he said. + +"That's it; what did I tell you?" exclaimed the woman. "I think you're +going to have a lot of money left to you some day," she added, noting at +a glance Tim's poor attire. Little Tim grinned. + +"You have some courage, too," continued the woman, who had not failed to +observe the boy's features and the glance of his eye. But at this moment +Little Tim gave an exclamation of surprise. Surveying the room he had +espied the lettering on a partly unrolled banner in one corner, where +the words, "Lorelei, the Sorceress," were inscribed. + +"Why, I've seen you before," he said. "That is, I haven't seen you, +either; but I've seen your picture on that canvas--and you don't look +like that at all." + +The woman laughed heartily. "You're sure you don't think it looks like +me?" she added, and laughed harder than ever. "Well, I should hope not," +she said; "but I fix up like that some, for the show. Where'd you see +me?" + +"Why, it was down at Benton," answered Tim. "You were with the circus." + +Then, as the full remembrance of the occasion came to him, Tim became of +a sudden excited. "Say," he asked, "what did Old Witham want?" + +The woman looked at him in surprise. + +"Old Witham," she repeated, "I don't know who you mean. I don't know any +Old Witham." + +"Oh, yes you do," urged Tim; and he described the unmistakable figure +and appearance of the corpulent colonel, together with the time and +night of his visit. The woman's eyes lit with amusement. She remembered +how the colonel had parted with his money painfully. + +"Oh, he didn't want much," she said. "Somebody had hidden some papers in +a factory or mill of some sort--that's what I thought, anyway--and he +wanted me to tell him where they were." + +"Oh," replied Tim, in a tone of disappointment. "Is that all?" He had +really fancied the colonel might have a love affair, and that it would +be great fun to reveal it to the boys. + +"Why, what business is it of yours, what he wanted?" inquired the woman. + +"It ain't any," answered Tim. "Guess I'll go now;" and he made his +escape through the door. + +"Oh, she didn't tell me anything," said Little Tim, as the boys +surrounded him a moment later. "Said I could catch fish, though. How do +you suppose she knew that?" + +Mr. Bangs seemed much amused. "She's a real witch," he exclaimed. "Well, +good-bye, boys. Come again next year." + +They said good-bye and started off. + +"Say, Jack," said Little Tim, as they walked along together, "that's the +fortune-teller that was down to Benton with the circus. Remember I told +you we caught Witham coming out of the tent? Well, I asked her what he +was there for, and it wasn't anything at all. He was only hunting for +some papers that somebody had hidden--" + +"What's that--tell me about that?" + +Henry Burns, who had been walking close by, but who had been not greatly +interested up to this point, had suddenly interrupted. "What did Witham +want?" he repeated. + +Little Tim repeated the fortune-teller's words. + +Henry Burns, hurrying ahead to where the others were walking, caught +John Ellison by an arm and drew him away. "Come back here a minute," he +said. "Here, Tim, tell John what the fortune-teller said about Witham." + +John Ellison, listening to Tim Reardon, grew pale and clenched his fist. + +"That's it," he cried. "There _are_ some other papers, don't you +suppose? Lawyer Estes said there might be; but they couldn't find them, +though they hunted through the mill. I just know there are some. Witham +knew it, too. That's what he was after. Tim, you've found out something +big, I tell you. We've just got to get into that mill again and go +through it. Don't you say a word to anybody, Tim." + +Tim's eyes opened wide with astonishment--but he promised. + +All through the work of striking and packing the two tents, and stowing +the stuff into the wagon, Henry Burns and John Ellison discussed this +new discovery; what it might mean and what use could be made of it. And +all the way home, on the long, dusty road, they talked it over. They +were late getting started, and it was eight o'clock when they turned in +at the Ellison farm. + +The mill had ceased grinding for two hours, and night had settled down. +But, as they got out of the wagon, John Ellison called to Henry Burns +and pointed over the hill toward the mill. + +"Do you see?" he said softly, but in excited tones. "Do you see? That's +what I see night after night, sometimes as late as nine o'clock." + +There was somebody in the old mill, evidently, for the light as from a +lantern was discernible now and again through one of the old, cobwebbed +windows; a light that flickered fitfully first from one floor, then from +another. + +"It's Witham," said John Ellison. "He's always in the mill now, early +and late. I'll bet he's hunted through it a hundred times since he's had +it. It gets on his mind, I guess; for I've seen him come back down the +road many a night, after the day's work was over, and he'd had supper, +and go through the rooms with the lantern." + +"Well," said Henry Burns, quietly, "we'll go through them, too. We'll do +it, some way." + + + + +CHAPTER XV + +A HUNT THROUGH THE MILL + + +"Say, Henry, guess what I'm going to do," said John Ellison, as he met +Henry Burns in the road leading from Benton, a few days following the +return from camp. + +Henry Burns, leaning on the paddle he was carrying, looked at his friend +for a moment and then answered, with surprising assurance, "You're going +to work for Witham." + +John Ellison stared at his friend in amazement. + +"You ought to be a fortune-teller," he exclaimed. "You can't have heard +about it, because I haven't told anybody--not even the folks at home. +How'd you know?" + +"I didn't," replied Henry Burns, smiling at the other's evident +surprise. "I only guessed. I knew by the way you looked that it was +something unusual; and I know what you're thinking of all the time; it's +about those papers. So I've been thinking what I'd do, if I wanted a +chance to look for them, and I said to myself that I'd try to go to work +in the mill, and keep my eyes open." + +"Well, you've hit it," responded John Ellison. "I know he needs a man, +and I'm big enough to do the work. Say, come on in with me to-morrow, +will you? I hate to go ask Old Witham for work. You don't mind. Come in +and see what he says." + +"I'll do it," replied Henry Burns. "I'll meet you at the foot of the +hill to-morrow forenoon at ten o'clock. Perhaps he'll hire me, too." + +"You! you don't have to work," exclaimed John Ellison. + +"No, but I will, if he'll take me," said Henry Burns. "I'll stay until I +get one good chance to go through the mill, and then I'll leave." + +"You're a brick," said John Ellison. "I'm going to tell mother about the +scheme now. She won't like it, either. She'd feel bad to have me go to +work there for somebody else, when we ought to be running it ourselves. +Where are you going--canoeing?" + +"Yes; come along?" replied Henry Burns. But John Ellison was too full of +his plan to admit of sport, and they separated, with the agreement to +meet on the following day. + +John Ellison was correct in his surmise that Mrs. Ellison would oppose +his intention to work for Colonel Witham. Indeed, Mrs. Ellison wouldn't +hear of it at all, at first. It seemed to her a disgrace, almost, to ask +favour at the hands of one who, she firmly believed, had somehow tricked +them out of their own. But John Ellison was firm. + +It would be only for a little time, at most; only that he might, at +opportune moments, look about in hope of making some discovery. + +"But what can it possibly accomplish?" urged Mrs. Ellison. "Lawyer Estes +has had the mill searched a dozen times, and there has been nothing +found. How can you expect to find anything? Colonel Witham wouldn't give +you the chance, anyway. He's always around the mill now, and he's been +over it a hundred times, himself, I dare say. Remember how we've seen +his light there night after night?" + +But John Ellison was not to be convinced nor thwarted. "I want to hunt +for myself," he insisted. "You kept it from me, before, when the lawyers +had the searches made." + +"I know it," sighed Mrs. Ellison. "I hated to tell you that we were in +danger of losing the mill." + +"Well, I'm going," declared John Ellison, and Mrs. Ellison gave +reluctant consent. + +Still, she might have saved herself the trouble of objecting, and let +Colonel Witham settle the matter--which he did, summarily. + +It was warm, and miller Witham, uncomfortable at all times in summer +sultriness, was doubly so in the hot, dusty atmosphere of the mill. The +dust from the meal settled on his perspiring face and distressed him; +the dull grinding of the huge stones and the whirr of the shaftings and +drums somehow did not sound in his ears so agreeably as he had once +fancied they would. There was something oppressive about the place--or +something in the air that caused him an unexplainable uneasiness--and he +stood in the doorway, looking unhappy and out of sorts. + +He saw two boys come briskly down the road from the Ellison farm and +turn up the main road in the direction of the mill. As they approached, +he recognized them, and retired within the doorway. To his surprise, +they entered. + +"Well, what is it?" he demanded shortly as John Ellison and Henry Burns +stood confronting him. "What do you want? I won't have boys around the +mill, you know. Always in the way, and I'm busy here." + +"Why, you see," replied John Ellison, turning colour a bit but speaking +firmly, "we don't want to bother you nor get in the way; but I--I want +to get some work to do. I'm big enough and strong enough to work, now, +and I heard you wanted a man. I came to see if you wouldn't hire me." + +Colonel Witham's face was a study. Taken all by surprise, he seemed to +know scarcely what to say. He shifted uneasily and the drops of +perspiration rolled from his forehead. He mopped his face with a big, +red handkerchief, and looked shiftily from one boyish face to the other. + +"Why, I did say I wanted help," he admitted; "but,"--and he glanced at +the youth who had spoken,--"I didn't say I wanted a boy. No, you won't +do." + +"Why, I'm big enough to do the haying," urged John Ellison. "You've got +the mill now. You might give me a job, I think." + +Possibly some thought of this kind might have found fleeting lodgment in +the colonel's brain; of Jim Ellison, who used to sit at the desk in the +corner; of the son that now asked him for work. Then a crafty, +suspicious light came into his eyes, and he glanced quickly at John +Ellison's companion. + +"What do you want here, Henry Burns?" he demanded. "I had you in my +hotel at Samoset Bay once, and you brought me bad luck. You get out. I +don't want you around here. Get out, I say." + +He moved threateningly toward Henry Burns, and the boy, seeing it was +useless to try to remain, stepped outside. + +"No, I don't want you, either," said Colonel Witham, turning abruptly +now to John Ellison. "No boys around this mill. I don't care if your +father did own it. You can't work here. I've no place for you." + +Despite his blustering and almost threatening manner, however, Colonel +Witham did not offer to thrust John Ellison from the mill. He seemed on +the point of doing it, but something stopped him. He couldn't have told +what. But he merely repeated his refusal, and turned away. + +It was only boyish impulse on John Ellison's part, and an innocent +purchaser of the mill would have laughed at him; but he stepped nearer +to Colonel Witham and said, earnestly, "You'll have to let me in here +some day, Colonel Witham. The mill isn't yours, and you know it." And he +added, quickly, as the thought occurred to him, "Perhaps the +fortune-teller you saw at the circus will tell me more than she told +you. Perhaps she'll tell me where the papers are." + +For a moment Colonel Witham's heavy face turned deathly pale, and he +leaned for support against one of the beams of the mill. Then the colour +came back into his face with a rush, and he stamped angrily on the +floor. + +"Confound you!" he cried. "You clear out, too. I don't know anything +about your fortune-tellers, and I don't care. I've got no time to fool +away with boys. Now get out." + +John Ellison walked slowly to the door, leaving the colonel mopping his +face and turning alternately white and red; and as he stepped outside +Colonel Witham dropped into a chair. + +Then, as the boys went on together up the hill to the Ellison farm, +Colonel Witham, recovering in a measure from the shock he had received, +arose from his chair, somewhat unsteady on his legs, and began, for the +hundredth and more time, a weary, fruitless search of the old mill, from +the garret to the very surface of the water flowing under it. + +And as Colonel Witham groped here and there, in dusty corners, he +muttered, "What on earth did he mean? The fortune-teller--how could he +know of that? There's witchcraft at work somewhere. But there aren't any +papers in this mill. I know it. I know it. I know it." + +And still he kept up his search until it was long past the time for +shutting down. + +Three days after this, Lawyer Estes was talking to John Ellison at the +farmhouse. + +"Well, I've run down your witch," he said, smiling; "and there isn't +anything to be made out of her. I've been clear to the fair-grounds at +Newbury to see her. She's a shrewd one; didn't take her long to see that +something was up. Sized me up for a lawyer, I guess, and shut up tighter +than a clam. I told her what I knew, but she swore Tim Reardon was +mistaken. + +"Those people have a fear of getting mixed up with the courts; naturally +suspicious, I suppose. She declared she had said that the man she talked +with asked about some letters he had lost, himself; and that was all she +knew about it. No use in my talking, either. I didn't get anything more +out of her. We're right where we were before." + +"Well, I'm going to get into that mill and look around, just the same," +exclaimed John Ellison. "I'll do it some way." + +"Then you'll be committing trespass," said Lawyer Estes, cautiously. + +"I don't care," insisted the boy. "I won't be doing any harm. I'm not +going to touch anything that isn't ours. But I'm going to look." + +"Then don't tell me about it," said the lawyer. "I couldn't be a party +to a proceeding like that." + +"No, but I know who will," said John Ellison. "It's Henry Burns. He +won't be afraid of looking through an old mill at night--and he'll know +a way to do it, too." + +John Ellison tramped into town, that afternoon, and hunted up his +friend. + +"Why, of course," responded Henry Burns; "it's easy. Jack and I'll go +with you. It won't do any harm, just to walk through a mill." And he +added, laughing, "You know we've been in there once before. Remember the +night we told you of?" + +John Ellison looked serious. + +"Yes," he replied, "and there was something queer about that, too, +wasn't there? You said father went through the mill, upstairs and down, +just the same as Witham does often now." + +"He did, sure enough," said Henry Burns, thoughtfully. "I wish I'd known +what trouble was coming some day; I'd have tried to follow him. Well, +we'll go through all right--but what about Witham?" + +"That's just what I've been thinking," said John Ellison. + +"Well," replied Henry Burns, after some moments' reflection, "leave it +to me. I'll fix that part of it. And supposing the worst should happen +and he catch us all in there, what could he do? We'll get Jack and Tom +and Bob--yes, and Tim, too; he's got sharp eyes. Witham can't lick us +all. If he catches us, we'll just have to get out. He wouldn't make any +trouble; he knows what people think about him and the mill." + +So John Ellison left it to Henry Burns; and the latter set about his +plans in his own peculiar and individual way. The scheme had only to be +mentioned to Jack and the others, to meet with their approval. They were +ready for anything that Henry Burns might suggest. The idea that a night +search, of premises which had already been hunted over scores of times +by daylight, did not offer much hope of success, had little weight with +them. If Henry Burns led, they would follow. + +The night finally selected by Henry Burns and John Ellison would have +made a gloomy companion picture to the one when Harvey and Henry Burns +first made their entry into the mill, under the guidance of Bess +Thornton, except that it did not rain. Henry Burns and John Ellison had +noted the favourable signs of the weather all afternoon; how the heavy +clouds were gathering; how the gusts whipped the dust into little +whirlwinds and blew flaws upon the surface of the stream; how the waning +daylight went dim earlier than usual; and they had voted it favourable +for the enterprise. + +Wherefore, there appeared on the surface of Mill stream, not long after +sundown, two canoes that held, respectively, Henry Burns and Harvey and +Tim Reardon, and Tom Harris and Bob White. These two canoes, not racing +now, but going along side by side in friendly manner, sped quietly and +swiftly upstream in the direction of the Ellison dam. Then, arriving +within sight of it, they waited on the water silently for a time, until +two figures crept along the shore and hailed them. These were John and +James Ellison. + +"It's all right," said John Ellison, in answer to an inquiry; "Witham's +at home, and the place is deserted. And who do you suppose is on watch +up near the Half Way House, to let us know if Witham comes out? Bess +Thornton. I let her in on the secret, because I knew she'd help. She +knows what Old Witham is." + +"Have you got it?" inquired Henry Burns, mysteriously. + +"Sure," responded John Ellison. "It's up close by the mill. Come on." + +They paddled up close to the white foam that ran from the foot of the +dam, where the falling water of the stream struck the basin below, and +turned the canoes inshore. There, up the bank, John Ellison produced the +mysterious object of Henry Burns's inquiry. It proved to be an old +wash-boiler. + +Harvey and the others eyed it with astonishment. + +"What are you going to do with that old thing?" asked Harvey. "This +isn't Fourth of July." + +"That's my fiddle," replied Henry Burns, coolly. "I've got the string in +my pocket." + +With which reply, he took hold of one handle of the wash-boiler and John +Ellison the other; and they proceeded up the bank. The others followed, +grinning. + +"Play us a tune," suggested young Tim. + +"Not unless I have to," replied Henry Burns. "You may hear it, and +perhaps you won't." + +All was desolate and deserted, as they made a circuit of the +surroundings of the mill. It certainly offered no attractions to +visitors, after nightfall. The crazy old structure, unpainted and +blackened with age, made a dark, dismal picture against the dull sky. +The water fell with a monotonous roar over the dam; the cold dripping of +water sounded within the shell of the mill. The wind, by fits and +starts, rattled loose boards and set stray shingles tattooing here and +there. Dust blew down from the roadway. + +"He'll not be out to-night," remarked Harvey, as they looked up the road +in the direction of the Half Way House. + +"You can't tell," replied John Ellison. "We've seen the light in here +some nights that were as bad as this. What say, shall we go in?" + +They followed his lead, around by the way Henry Burns and Harvey had +once before entered, and, one by one, went in through the window. Then +they paused, huddled on a plank, while John Ellison scratched a match +and lighted a sputtering lantern, the wick of which had become dampened. +Across the planking they picked their way, and entered the main room on +the first floor. + +Then Henry Burns and John Ellison made another trip and brought in Henry +Burns's "fiddle," greatly to the amusement of the others. + +"That goes on the top floor," said Henry Burns, and they ascended the +two flights of stairs with it, depositing it upside down, in a corner of +the garret that was boarded up as a separate room, or large closet. Then +Henry Burns, producing from his pocket a piece of closely woven cotton +rope, skilfully tossed one end over a beam above his head; seized the +end as it fell, quickly tied a running knot and hauled it snug. The +rope, made fast thus at one end to the beam, drew taut as he pulled down +on it. + +"That's the fiddle-string, eh Jack?" laughed Henry Burns. "We've made a +horse-fiddle before now, haven't we? that rope's got so much resin on it +that it squeaks if you just look at it." + +He passed the free end of the resined rope through a hole in the bottom +of the upturned wash-boiler, and knotted it so it would not pull out +again. + +"Now where's the fiddle-bow, John?" he asked. + +John Ellison forthwith produced a long bent bow of alder, strung with +pieces of tied horse-hair. + +"Listen," said Henry Burns; and he drew the bow gently across the +resined rope. The sound that issued forth--the combined agony of the +vibrating wash-boiler and the shrill squeak of the rope--was one hardly +to be described. It was like a wail of some unworldly creature, ending +with a shuddering twang that grated even on the nerves of Henry Burns's +companions. Then Henry Burns laid the bow aside and was ready for the +search. + +"That sounds nice on Fourth of July night," he remarked, "but not in +here. Let's see what we can find, John." + +They lighted two more lanterns that they had brought and began their +search. Strangely enough, however, the possibilities that had seemed so +real to John Ellison, as he had gazed day by day upon the old mill he +knew so well, seemed to vanish now that he was within. He had thought +of a hundred and one odd corners where he would search; but now they +offered obviously so little chance of secreting anything that he felt +his hopes begin to wane. + +Still, they went at it earnestly and thoroughly. Through the garret, +with their lanterns lighted, they hunted; lifting aside boxes and +barrels; opening dingy closets; peering into long unused bins. Hoppers +that had been once a part of the mill's equipment, but which had been +displaced by others, were carefully examined; even the rafters overhead +were scrutinized, lest some overlooked box might be found hidden +thereon. + +They went to the floor below, where the great grinding stones were; and +where a tangle of belting and shaftings half filled one room. There were +hiding places a-plenty here; but not one of them yielded anything. Then, +on the main floor, where there was a great safe hidden in one corner, +and the desk. Here they were on forbidden ground. The property was +clearly Witham's, and they would not touch that. They could only search +about the nooks and corners, and sound the boards for secret +hiding-places. + +So on, up and down, in and out; even through the outer room of the mill, +where all was rough and unfinished, and only a plank thrown across here +and there to walk on. There were places enough where a box or package +might be hidden--but where nothing was. + +Yet they continued industriously, and were so absorbed in their search +that they failed to notice that Little Tim had vanished, until Harvey +called to him for something, and he was nowhere to be found. + +They were half frightened for a moment, fearing lest he had slipped and +fallen somewhere; but Harvey laughed at their fears. + +"You can't hurt that little monkey," he said. "He can swim like a fish, +and he's a regular cat on climbing. No, he's up to some trick or other." + +They were aware of this presently--and just a bit startled--at the sound +of a low whistle coming from the outer mill; then Tim Reardon darted in +from the darkness, into the circle of lanterns. + +"He's coming!" he gasped. "I just met Bess Thornton up the road. Cracky, +how I did run! Look out the window; you'll see his lantern. Better turn +ours down, quick." + +They lost no time in following this advice; then crept to the window +that looked on the road and peered out. The swinging and swaying of a +lantern could be seen, indistinctly in the distance. Colonel Witham was +coming. The boys sped quickly up two flights of stairs into the garret. + +What should bring Colonel Witham, night after night, to the old mill, +where he had hunted long and fruitlessly? He, himself, could hardly have +told. Possibly he felt somehow a sense as of security; that, so long as +he was there, there could be nobody else on hand, to search; that he was +guarding his property--against, he knew not what. And, if ever the +thought came to him, that perhaps it had been better for his peace of +mind never to have come into possession of the old mill at all, why, he +did not allow his mind to dwell upon it. That usually set him to +hunting. + +Now the door opened, and Colonel Witham stepped within the mill. And for +all his being there voluntarily, one might have seen by the pallor of +his face that he was half afraid. There, in the shadow, just beyond the +rim of his own lantern light, was the desk where Jim Ellison used to +sit--and sneer at him. Did Colonel Witham recall that? Perhaps. He +lifted the lantern and let the light fall on the spot. The place was +certainly empty. + +For all the relief of that, Colonel Witham uttered a cry very much like +a frightened man, the next moment. Then he was angry, as he felt the +goose-flesh prickling all over him. The sharp night wind had slammed the +little door leading to the outer mill, with a bang, and the noise had +echoed through all the rooms. + +There was nothing in that to be afraid of, and Colonel Witham seated +himself in a chair by the desk, with the lantern beside him on the +floor. Now that he was here, he scarce knew why he had come. + +What was that? Was that a foot-fall on some floor above? Colonel Witham +sat bolt upright in his seat and listened. He took out his handkerchief +and mopped his brow. Then he was angry with himself again. He was +certainly nervous to-night. + +Nervous indeed; for he came out of his chair with a bound, as the wind +suddenly swooped down on the old mill, shrieked past one corner, with a +cry that was almost like a voice, and went on up the stream, crackling +the dead branches of trees and moaning through the pines. + +Colonel Witham started for the door. It was no use; nature was against +him--conspiring to fill him with alarm. He was foolish to have come. He +would go back to the inn. + +But then his natural stubbornness asserted itself. Should a wild night +drive him out of his own mill--when the law couldn't? He turned +resolutely and went slowly back. Nor did he pause on the main floor, but +started up the first flight of stairs. + +Another shriek of the wind, that rattled the loose window panes on the +floor above, as though by a hundred unseen hands. The colonel crouched +down on the stairs for a moment--and then, oh, what a hideous sound was +that! + +Somewhere, from the vague spaces of the upper part of the mill, there +was wafted down to him such a noise as he had never heard; it squeaked +and it thrummed; it moaned deep, and it wailed with an unearthly, +piercing sound. There was the sorrow and the agony of a thousand voices +in it. It blended now with the wind, and added to the cry of that; again +it rose above the wind, and pierced the colonel's very soul. + +Colonel Witham, clutching his lantern with desperation, fairly slid down +the stairs, his legs wabbling weakly as he tried to stay himself. He +landed in a heap at the foot. Then, rising with a mighty effort, he fled +from the mill, up the road to the Half Way House. + +Some moments later, seven boys, shaking with laughter, emerged from the +garret room and resumed their search. + +Colonel Witham had heard the strains of Henry Burns's horse-fiddle. + + + + +CHAPTER XVI + +THE GOLDEN COIN LOST AGAIN + + +"Let's look, Tim! Let me see. Say, where'd you find it? Bring it here to +the light." + +The crowd of boys, much excited, was jostling Little Tim, plying him +with more questions than he could answer, and each one trying to grasp +at something that he held in his hand. + +Proceeding into the main room of the mill, Tim held his prize close to +the light of three lanterns. It was a small box, tied with cords, and +contained apparently something like coin, by the clinking sound that +came from within. + +"I found it out in the mill, where the water comes in and where the big +wheels are," said Tim, breathlessly. "Sounds as though there was money +in it, don't it? It was just where one of the shafts goes through part +of a beam. The beam is cut away there, and room enough left for this, +right under the shafting. Nobody'd ever think of going near it when the +mill was running; but I climbed up there and took hold of the shaft, and +I spied it." + +He was tearing off the cords as he spoke; and now, as he opened the +cover, sure enough, there was disclosed a handful or two of small coin: +some quarters and dimes and pennies--but nothing of great value. These +were intermingled with some papers, folded small. + +John Ellison snatched at these and quickly unfolded them. But they read +disappointment for him. They were nothing more than a lot of receipted +bills, for supplies brought to the miller. Then they counted the coin. +There was a dollar and eighty odd cents in cash. + +Tim Reardon was elated enough, and evidently thought the discovery +justified any amount of laborious searching; but the faces of John +Ellison and Henry Burns were eloquent of disappointment. + +"Too bad, John," remarked Henry Burns, putting his hand on the other's +shoulder. "I thought we'd struck it at last. Want to hunt any more?" + +John Ellison shook his head. "I've got enough," he said. "I give it up. +We've looked everywhere I can think of." + +"And who gets the money?" inquired Tim, eagerly. + +"I don't know," replied John Ellison, "and I don't care much. But I +don't know as we've got any right to it--though these bills aren't +Witham's, and I suppose the money isn't. The mill is his now, and I +guess we haven't any right to come in here and take this." + +"Well," suggested Henry Burns, "why not ask Witham about it?" + +"Ask Witham!" exclaimed John Ellison. "I won't. I don't want ever to +speak to him again. You can, though, if you want to." + +"All right," said Henry Burns. "I'll ask him. And I'll get the money for +you." + +"I don't want it," exclaimed John Ellison, whose disappointment was +evident in his tone of bitterness. "Give it to Tim--if you get it." + +"All right," said Henry Burns. + +Tim's eyes twinkled. + +It was evening of the following day, and Colonel Witham sat on the porch +of the Half Way House, smoking his pipe. It had been a puzzling day for +him, and he was thinking it over. Going through the mill, along in the +afternoon, he had come upon an extraordinary looking object in the +garret--an old wash-boiler, inverted, with a resined cord running from +the bottom of it up to a beam. And near by lay a sort of bow, strung +with horse-hair. + +What on earth could that be, and how had it come there? Colonel Witham, +at first, had thought it might be some sort of an infernal machine, put +there to destroy the mill. But he had investigated, cautiously, and +demonstrated its harmlessness. And about the floor were a few half +burned matches. Somebody had been in the mill. A faint perception began +to dawn upon him, as the day passed, that it might have been the boys; +but he couldn't wholly figure it out, and it bothered him not a little. + +He thought of notifying the police--but he didn't want them hunting +about the mill--or anybody else. The best thing, he decided, was to keep +quiet, and watch out sharper than ever. + +He was not in a friendly mood, therefore, when, gazing down the road, he +espied Henry Burns approaching on a bicycle, followed closely by Jack +Harvey and Tim Reardon. Moreover, his suspicions were aroused. He was +somewhat surprised, however, when the boys dismounted at a little +distance, leaned their wheels against some bushes and approached the +porch. + +Greater still was the colonel's surprise--indeed, he was fairly taken +aback--when Henry Burns, having bade him good-evening, broached his +subject abruptly, without any preliminaries. + +"Colonel Witham," said Henry Burns, coolly, "we were up in the mill last +night." + +The colonel's eyes stuck out, and he glared at Henry Burns with mingled +astonishment and wrath. + +"Eh, what's that?" he exclaimed, "you were in my mill! Why, you young +rascals, don't you know I could have you all arrested as burglars?" + +"No," replied Henry Burns, "we didn't go to take anything of yours. We +were after some papers that belonged to John Ellison's father. We +weren't going to keep them either, if we found them; just turn them over +to Lawyer Estes." + +"Well, then, it was trespass," cried Colonel Witham, wrathfully. "Who +told you there were papers in the mill. Lawyer Estes didn't--he knows +better." + +"No," replied Henry Burns, "but you told the fortune-teller so." + +"I didn't say that," bellowed Colonel Witham, rising from his chair. But +it was plain the suggestion of the fortune-teller worried him. "What did +you do in there?" he added. "If you did any harm, you'll suffer for it." + +"We didn't," said Henry Burns. "We only played on a horse-fiddle once or +twice. You know there are rats in the mill, colonel. I guess they +scampered when they heard that." + +Colonel Witham had been about to burst forth with an angry exclamation; +but the thought of his own ignominious flight made him pause. Rats, +indeed! He knew there wasn't a rat in the whole mill that had been half +so terrified as he. + +"Now see here," he said, shaking his fist for emphasis, "I know you +didn't do any harm in the mill. It was one of your crazy pranks. But +don't you ever go in there again, or I'll make trouble for you." + +"We're not going to," said Henry Burns. + +"There isn't anything in there, anyway," urged Colonel Witham. "I've +heard that talk, around Benton, and it's all nonsense. You couldn't find +anything in there, if you hunted a hundred years." + +"But we did find something," said Henry Burns, in a matter-of-fact way. + +Colonel Witham's jaw dropped, and he looked at Henry Burns almost +helplessly. He couldn't speak for a moment. Then he asked, huskily, +"What was it you found? None of your pranks now; what did you find?" + +"A small box, with some coins in it," replied Henry Burns; and he +described the hiding place. "There was a dollar and eighty-six cents." + +Colonel Witham looked relieved. "Give them to me," he cried. "You've got +no right to the stuff." + +"Wasn't it Ellison's?" inquired Henry Burns. + +"Never you mind whose it was," cried Colonel Witham. "It was in my mill. +Give it to me, or I'll have the law on you." + +"There were some papers, too," continued Henry Burns. + +Colonel Witham staggered again. The hand that held his pipe shook. Then +his eyes twinkled craftily. + +"Well, you're right smart boys," he said. "Keep the money, if you want +it, or give it to John Ellison. Yes, it was Jim Ellison's--the money +was. But the papers are mine. Have you got them? Give me the papers, and +keep the money. I don't claim the money." + +"Yes, I've got the papers," replied Henry Burns. "Here they are. There's +all there were." + +He handed the package to Colonel Witham, who took it with trembling +hand. Then Henry Burns and his friends made a hurried departure. By the +time the colonel had made an examination of the papers, and had turned, +white with anger, to vent his rage upon them, they were spinning down +the road. + +"Tim," said Henry Burns, as they rode along, "you get the money." + +It was a day or two later, on a sultry afternoon, and Bess Thornton +stood in the doorway of the old house where she and Granny Thornton +lived, looking forth at the sky. A passing shower was sprinkling the +doorsteps with a few big drops, and the girl drew back with a look of +disappointment on her face. + +"It always rains when you don't want it to," she said. "Wish there was +somebody to play with. It's pokey here, with gran' gone to Witham's. I +don't know what to do." + +Something suggested itself to her mind, however, for presently she +opened the door leading to the attic and went up the stairs. It was dark +and silent in the attic, but she threw open a window at either end, +unfastened the blinds, and the daylight entered. It disclosed a clutter +of old household stuff: some strings of pop-corn and dried apples and +herbs hanging from the rafters, and a lot of faded garments, suspended +from nails. + +She tried on an old-fashioned poke-bonnet, looked at herself in a bit of +cracked mirror that leaned against a wash-stand, and laughed at the odd +picture she made. Then, by turns, she arrayed herself in some of the +antiquated garments. She rummaged here and there, until she came to the +old bureau. + +"Gran' always keeps that locked," she said. "I guess nobody'd want to +steal anything from this old place, though. She needn't be so +particular. I wonder where she keeps the key." + +There was no great difficulty in finding that, either, once she had set +about it; for soon her hand rested on the key, as she felt along the +tops of the beams, and came to the one where Granny Thornton had laid +it. + +"I'm going to have a look," said the girl softly to herself. "Gran's +always telling me to keep out of here." Then, as the thought struck her, +she exclaimed, "I'll bet here's where she put the coin." + +The lock of the upper drawer of the bureau yielded readily to the +pressure of the key; she drew the drawer out, and looked within. There +was a mixture of curious odds and ends, from which she picked up a tiny +white dress. + +"That's funny," she exclaimed. "It's a baby's dress. I wonder what gran' +keeps it for; perhaps 'twas mine. It's small, though. Wonder if I was +ever as little as that." + +She took the tiny garment by the sleeves, and held it up against +herself. Then she laughed merrily. "I wish I could ask gran' about it," +she said. + +A small box attracted her eye and she seized that. She got a surprise +then. She had thought that perhaps it might contain the coin. But it +contained that and more. There, indeed, was the golden coin; but, +strangely enough, it was not as she and Tim Reardon had found it, but +affixed to a small golden chain. + +"Oh!" she exclaimed; "Gran' was right, then. It did belong to us, after +all. My, it's pretty, too. Gran' ought to let me wear it." + +She tried to hang it about her neck, but the chain was too short. She +remedied that, however, by piecing it out with two bits of ribbon which +she found in the drawer. These she knotted in a bow at the back of her +neck, and danced over to the mirror, to note the effect of the chain +with its ornament. It was a rare piece of finery in her eyes, and she +gazed upon it long and wistfully. + +"I'm going to wear it awhile," she exclaimed. "It won't hurt it any. +Gran' said I wore it once, when I was little. It's mine, I guess, +anyway." + +She continued her rummaging through the drawer, but it yielded nothing +more to her fancy. She shut the drawer and locked it, and went to look +at herself once more in the piece of mirror. The sun came out from +behind the passing clouds, and, as it streamed in at one of the windows, +it shone on the chain and the coin and on the girl's face. + +"I just can't take it off yet," she said; and, closing the blinds, +tripped down the stairs. But, as she looked out the door, she espied +Granny Thornton coming in at the gate. She thought of the chain and its +coin; and, realizing it was too late to regain the attic and replace it, +slipped quietly out at the shed door and ran down through the fields to +the brook, before Granny Thornton had espied her. + +As she came to the edge of the brook, a small boy, that had been lying +face down on the turf, with an arm deep in the water, rose up and +greeted her. + +"Why, hello, Tim," she said, surprised; "what are you doing?" + +"Trying to tickle that big trout," replied Tim Reardon. "I've been here +half an hour, without moving, but I can't find him. There's where he +lies, though; I've seen him often. But he won't come near; he's too +smart. I'm going to try the pickerel. See here, look what I've got." + +He put a hand into his trousers pocket, and drew forth an object wrapped +in a piece of newspaper. It proved to be a new spoon hook, bright and +shiny, with gleaming red and silver, and a bunch of bright feathers +covering the hooks at the end. + +"Isn't that a beauty!" he exclaimed. "Cost a quarter. I bought it. John +Ellison gave me that money I found in the mill." + +"It's fine," replied the girl. "Going to try it?" + +"Sure," answered Tim. "My rod's hid down by the stream. I wanted to try +to tickle a trout when the shower ruffled the water here. Ever tickle a +trout?" + +Bess Thornton laughed. "No," said she; "nor you, either, I guess." + +"Honest injun, I have," asserted Tim, warmly. "You just put your hand +down in the water, and keep it still for an awful while; and by and by +perhaps a fish'll brush against it. Then he'll keep doing it, and then +you just move your hand and your fingers easy like, and the trout, he +kind er likes it. Then, when you get a good chance, you just grab quick +and throw him out on shore." + +"Hm!" exclaimed the girl; "I'd like to see you do it." + +They went along the brook to the road, passed up the road to a point +some way above the dam, when Tim Reardon presently disappeared in a +clump of bushes; from this he soon emerged, with his bamboo fish-pole. +They went down through the field to the shore. + +Jointing up the rod and affixing the reel, Tim Reardon ran out his line, +tied on the bright spoon-hook and began trolling. The allurement proved +enticing, and presently he hooked a fish. Tim gallantly handed the rod +to Bess Thornton. + +"Pull him in," he said. "I've caught lots of 'em. You can land this +one." + +The girl seized the rod, with a little cry of delight, and lifted the +fish out of water. Then she swung it in on shore, where it lay, with its +green body twisting about in the grass, and its great jaws distended, +showing its sharp teeth. + +"My, isn't he ugly looking!" she exclaimed. "You take the hook out, will +you, Tim?" + +Tim, grasping the squirming fish tightly behind the gills, disengaged +the hook and threw the fish down in the grass again. "That one's yours," +he said. + +The girl still held the pole. + +"Let me try just a minute, will you?" she asked. "If I get another, you +can have it." + +Tim assented readily, and she swung the pole and cast the hook far out +upon the water. She drew it back and forth past a clump of lily pads, +and then cast again. She was not as skilful with the long rod as the boy +had been, however; and once, as she cast, the line did not have time to +straighten out behind her, and the hook fell in the water close by the +shore. She jerked it out and tried to cast again. + +The hook swung in, almost striking her in the face; and both she and Tim +Reardon dodged. The next moment, she made a sweep with the rod, to throw +the hook back toward the water. Something caught, and she felt a slight +tug at her neck. She dropped the rod and uttered a cry of dismay. + +"What's the matter?" cried Little Tim. "Did you get hooked?" + +But the girl made no answer. She stood, holding the ends of the broken +chain in either hand, anxiously looking all about her. + +"The coin!" she gasped. "Tim, I've lost the coin. Oh, won't gran' give +it to me if I've lost that again!" + +They hunted everywhere about them, parting the tufts of grass carefully +and poking about on hands and knees. But the coin was nowhere to be +seen. + +"I tell you what," suggested Tim, "it's gone into the water. Never mind, +though; I can get it. I'll dive for it." + +They were at the edge of a little bank, from which the water went off +deep at a sharp angle. They gazed down into the water, but there was not +light enough within its depths, nor was it sufficiently clear to enable +them to see the bottom. + +"I'm going in after it, too," exclaimed Bess Thornton; "but I can't in +this dress." She glanced at the sailor-suit she wore. "I'm going back to +the house and put on the old one. You try for it while I'm gone, won't +you, Tim?" + +The boy nodded; and Bess Thornton, half in tears, started off on a smart +run to the old house. In her dismay, she had forgotten that Granny +Thornton had returned from the inn; but she was speedily aware of that +fact as she darted in at the kitchen door. There stood Granny Thornton, +with mingled anger and alarm depicted on her countenance. + +"Oh," she cried, "I'd just like to shake you, good. Give me back that +chain and the coin. Don't say you didn't take it. I found it gone. What +do you mean by going into that drawer? Don't you ever--" + +She stopped abruptly, for Bess Thornton was facing her, the tears +standing in her eyes, and she held in her hand the broken chain. + +"Oh, gran'," she cried, "don't scold. I didn't mean any harm. I just +wanted to wear it a little while. But it's--it's gone." + +And she told the story of the loss of the coin. + +Granny Thornton stared at the girl in amazement. Then she burst forth in +querulous tones, seemingly as though she were addressing the girl and +soliloquizing at the same time. + +"It's gone!" she gasped. "Gone again--and sure there's a fate in it. +Plenty of chains like that to be had, but never another coin of the kind +seen about these parts. Oh, but you've gone and done it. Don't you know +that coin meant luck for you, girl? You might have gone to the big house +to live some day; but you'll never go now. You've lost the luck. You're +bad--bad. There's no making you mind. Give me the chain." + +Her voice grew more harsh and angry. "Let the coin go," she said. +"You've lost it, and you can suffer for it. You'll not go out of this +house again to-day." + +Puzzled at her strange words, and hurt at the scolding, Bess Thornton +sat sullenly. "I'll get it back to-morrow, if I can't to-day," she said. +"I'm going to dive for it." + +"You keep away from the water, do you hear?" replied Granny Thornton; +but, a half-hour later, she seemed to have changed her mind. "Go and get +it, if you can," she said, shortly. "Change that dress--and don't get +drowned." + +But Little Tim, in the mean time, had not been idle. Hastily throwing +off his clothing, he dived again and again into the deep pool, swimming +to the bottom and groping about there. He brought up handfuls of sticks +and small stones, and the debris of the water's bed. A dozen times he +was unsuccessful--and then, at last, as he clung to the bank and opened +his fist for the water to thin the mud and ooze that he had clutched, +there lay the golden coin, bright and shining in his palm. + +He scrambled out, had his clothes on in a twinkling, dropped the coin +into one of his pockets, and started off on a run down the road. + +Perhaps old Granny Thornton had been right, however, when she exclaimed +that there was a fate in the mysterious foreign piece; for when Tim +Reardon reached his hand into his pocket presently, to see that the coin +was safe--lo, it had once more disappeared. Little Tim, with a look of +chagrin, turned his pocket inside out. A tell-tale hole in one corner +accounted for the disappearance. Tim, muttering his disgust, slowly +retraced his steps, kicking away the dust with his bare feet. + +He was still searching for the coin when Bess Thornton returned. They +were both searching for it an hour later. But the coin was lost. + +"I'm awful sorry," said Tim, as they finally relinquished the search. +"I'll tell you what, though. It's my fault, and I've got a dollar and +sixty cents left at home, and I'll give you that." + +The girl shook her head sadly. "I wouldn't take it," she replied. + +Two hours later, Benny Ellison, strolling homeward, with gun over +shoulder, and two pickerel dangling from a crotched stick, espied +something gleaming in the grass by the roadside. He stooped and picked +up a golden coin. + +"What luck!" he exclaimed. He put the coin in his pocket and carried it +home. He had a collection of curiosities there, in an old cabinet, that +he valued highly: coins, stamps, birds' nests, queer bits of stone and +odds and ends of stuff. Seeing that the coin was punched, and foreign, +and not available for spending money, he placed it among his treasures. +He was a curiously unsocial youth; had few pleasures that he shared with +his cousins, but gloated over his own acquisitions quietly like a miser. +He rejoiced silently in this new addition to his hoard, and said nothing +about it. + + + + +CHAPTER XVII + +A STRANGE ADMISSION + + +The days went by, and summer was near its end. Then, with the vacation +drawing to a close, there came a surprise for Henry Burns, in the form +of a letter from his aunt. It was she with whom he lived, in a +Massachusetts town; but now she wrote that she had decided to spend the +winter in Benton, and that he must enter school there at the fall term, +along with Tom Harris and Bob White. "Then I stay, too," exclaimed Jack +Harvey, when he had read the important news--and he did. The elder +Harvey, communicated with, had no objection; and, indeed, there was a +most satisfactory arrangement made, later, that Jack Harvey should board +with Henry Burns and his aunt; an arrangement highly pleasing to the two +boys, if it added later to the concern and worry of the worthy Miss +Matilda Burns. + +The days grew shorter and the nights cool; and, by and by, with much +reluctance, the canoes were hauled ashore for the last time, of an +afternoon, and stored away in a corner of the barn back of the camp; and +fishing tackle for summer use was put carefully aside, also. There were +lessons to be learned, and fewer half-days to be devoted to the sport +for which they cared most. + +The pickerel in the stream and the trout in the brook sought deeper +waters, in anticipation of winter. The boys spent less and less of their +time in the vicinity of the old Ellison farm. + +Tim and Young Joe Warren stuck mostly by the camp, and drew the others +there on certain select occasions. For Little Tim, by reason of long +roving, had a wonderful knowledge of the resources of the country around +the old stream. He had a beechnut grove that he had discovered, three +miles back from the water, on the farther shore; likewise a place where +the hazel bushes were loaded with nuts, and where a few butternut trees +yielded a rich harvest. Young Joe and he gathered a great store of +these, as the nights of early frost came on; and they spread a feast for +the others now and then, with late corn, roasted in questionable fashion +over a smoky box-stove that heated the camp stifling hot. + +October came in, with the leaves growing scarlet in the woods and sharp +winds whistling through the corn and bean stacks. Henry Burns and his +friends had seen but little of the Ellisons, who were out of school for +the winter, caring for the farm; but now the night of the 31st of +October found Henry Burns and Jack Harvey, George Warren, Bob White and +Tom Harris seated in the big kitchen of the Ellison farmhouse. + +It was plainly to be seen that, although the Ellisons had been reduced +in circumstances through the loss of the mill, there was still an +abundance of its kind yielded by the farm. On a table were dishes of +apples and fall pears; two pumpkin pies of vast circumference squatted +near by, close to a platter of honey and a huge pitcher of milk. + +It was dark already, though only half-past seven o'clock, and the lights +of two kerosene lamps gleamed through the kitchen windows. + +As hosts on this occasion, John and James Ellison presently proceeded to +introduce their city friends to the delights of milk and honey; a dish +composed of the dripping sweet submerged in a bowl of creamy milk, and +eaten therewith, comb and all. + +"Never hurt anybody eaten that way," explained John Ellison, "and this +is the real thing. The milk is from the Jersey cows in the barn, and the +honey's from the garret, where there's five swarms of bees been working +all summer." + +They need no urging, however. + +"Poor Joe! He'll die of grief when I tell him about this," remarked +George Warren, smacking his lips over a mouthful. + +"Why didn't you bring him along?" asked John Ellison. "I wanted you all +to come." + +"Arthur's off down town, and Joe's gone to the camp with Tim Reardon," +explained the eldest of the Warren brothers. "Tim and Joe'll be +sky-larking around somewhere later. They're great on Hallowe'en night, +you know. They've got a supply of cabbage-stumps to deliver at the +doors." + +And thus the talk drifted to Hallowe'en, the night when, if old +romances could only be believed, there are witches and evil spirits +abroad, alive to all sorts of pranks and mischief. + +In the midst of which, and most timely, there came suddenly a sharp tap +at one of the windows. They paused and turned quickly in that direction. +James Ellison sprang to the window and peered out. + +"Nothing there," he said; "one of those big beetles, I guess, attracted +by the light." + +They fell to eating again, when presently another smart rap at the +window startled them. + +John Ellison laughed. "It's some of fat old Benny's nonsense," he said. +"He wouldn't come in, because you city chaps were coming. He's rigged a +tick-tack; I can see the string of it. Wait a minute and I'll just steal +'round the other door and catch him at it. You fellows go on eating, and +don't pay any attention. I'll catch him." + +They resumed the feast; and again the sharp rap sounded upon the window +pane, caused by the clicking of a heavy nail--suspended from the window +sash by a pin and string, and yanked by somebody at the end of a longer +string attached--swinging in against the glass. + +There came a yell of surprise shortly; and, in a moment, there appeared +John Ellison clutching the culprit by the collar. Which culprit, to +their astonishment, proved to be, not Benny Ellison but Young Joe. + +"Here he is," laughed John Ellison, dragging in his prisoner. "What'll +we do with him?" + +"Clean him," suggested George Warren, winking at the others. "He's got a +dirty face." + +True enough, Young Joe had, in the course of his evening's adventures, +acquired a streak of smut across one cheek. + +Roaring at the suggestion, they seized the struggling captive, lifted +him up bodily to the sink, where they held him face upward under a +stream of water, pumped with a vigour. When they had done with him, +Young Joe's face was most assuredly clean. + +"Now," said John Ellison, as they set Joe on his feet again, "there's a +towel. Dry up and come and have some honey." + +Young Joe, grinning, and with a joyous vision of honey and pumpkin pie +before him, obeyed with alacrity. + +"Say," he said, cramming a spoonful of the mess into his mouth, and +gulping it with huge satisfaction, "can Tim come in? He's out there." + +"Sure, bring him in," assented John Ellison. + +A few shrill whistles from Young Joe brought his companion to the door; +and Tim Reardon was soon likewise equipped with bowl and spoon--but not +before he had got his ducking at the kitchen pump, which he took with +Spartan fortitude. + +Honey and milk, pies and fruit soon disappeared rapidly at the renewed +attack. A fresh pie, added largely for the benefit of Young Joe and Tim, +went the way of the others. Young Joe gave a murmur of surfeited delight +as the last piece of crust disappeared; while Little Tim was gorged to +the point almost of speechlessness, and could hardly shake his head at +the proffer of more. + +"Well," said George Warren, at length, "what are you two chaps doing +around here, anyway--I'll bet Joe smelled the food, clear down to the +camp." + +Young Joe, in reply, turned to John Ellison, and motioned toward the +farmyard. "Give us one of those pumpkins?" he asked. + +The pumpkins referred to lay in a great golden heap beside one of the +barns; and there were a few scattered ones lying out in the corn-field +beyond. + +"Why, sure," responded John Ellison. "Have as many as you want." And he +added, with a sly wink at George Warren, "We give a lot of them to the +pigs. You're welcome." + +Young Joe, lifting himself out of his chair with some effort, due to the +weight of pie and honey stowed within, disappeared through the door. He +returned, shortly, carrying a large handsome pumpkin on his shoulder. + +"What are you going to do with it?" asked John Ellison. + +Young Joe grinned. "Going to give it to Witham," he said. + +In preparation for this act of generosity, Young Joe proceeded to carve +upon one side of the pumpkin a huge, grinning face. Having finished +which, with due satisfaction to artistic details, he stood off and +admired his own handiwork. + +"Looks a little like Witham," he said. "Only it looks better-natured +than he does." + +"You'd better let Witham alone," said George Warren, assuming the +patronizing tone of an elder brother. "He's in a bad humour these days." + +"Not going to do any harm," replied Young Joe. "Going to put it up on +the flag-pole, eh Tim? Come along with us?" + +"Why, if it's got to be done," said Henry Burns, speaking with the +utmost gravity, "I suppose we might as well go along and see that it's +done right and shipshape;" and he arose from his chair. So, too, the +others, save John Ellison. + +"You fellows go ahead," he said, "and then come back. I don't feel like +playing a joke on Witham. I'm too much in earnest about him." + +"That's so," returned Henry Burns. "I don't blame you. We'll be back in +no time." + +They went down the hill, soon after, carrying the pumpkin between them +by turns. They cut across the field on the hill slope, crossed the old +bridge over the brook, and went on up the road toward the Half Way +House. + +"Look out for Bess Thornton," said Jim Ellison, who had accompanied +them. "She and the old woman are here now for the winter, keeping house +for Witham." + +"She won't let on, if she comes out," said Tim. + +But they saw nothing of her. Tired out with her day's work, the girl had +gone to bed and was soundly sleeping. + +They arrived presently at a little plot of grass in front of the inn, +from the centre of which there rose up a lofty flag-pole. It had been +erected by some former proprietor, for the patriotic purpose of flying +the American flag; but, to Colonel Witham's thrifty mind, it had offered +an excellent vantage for displaying a dingy banner, with the +advertisement of the Half Way House lettered thereon. This fluttered now +in a mournful way, half way up the mast, as though it were a sign of +mourning for the quality of food and lodging one might expect at the +hands of Colonel Witham. + +A dim light shone in the two front office windows of the inn, but the +shades were drawn so that they could not see within. Other than the +lamplight, there seemed to be a flickering, uncertain, intermittent +gleam, or variation of the light, indicating probably a fire in the open +hearth. + +The boys waited now for a moment, till Henry Burns, who had volunteered, +went quietly up toward the hotel, to reconnoitre. He came back +presently, saying that there was a side window, shaded only by a blind, +half-closed on the outside, through which he had been able to make out +old Granny Thornton and Colonel Witham seated by the fire. + +"Run up the pumpkin," he said; "I'll go back there again and keep watch. +If Witham starts to come out, I'll whistle, and we'll cut and run." + +He went back to the window, and took up his place there. + +"Cracky!" exclaimed Young Joe; "who's going to shin that pole? It's a +high one. Wish I hadn't eaten that last piece of pie. How about you, +Tim?" + +"I can do it," asserted Tim, stoutly. + +"Nonsense!" exclaimed Harvey. "There's the halyards. What more do you +want? You cut a hole through the pumpkin, George, clear through the +middle, so we can pass an end of the rope, and I'll see that it goes up, +and stays." + +The pumpkin being duly pierced, one free end of the halyard was passed +through the hole. Then Harvey proceeded to tie a running knot, through +which he passed the other free end of rope. They took hold with a will, +and hoisted. Quickly, the golden pumpkin was borne aloft; when it +brought up at the top of the pole, the running knot drew tight, and the +pumpkin was fast--with the difficulty presenting itself to whomever +should seek to get it down, that the harder one pulled on the loose end +of rope, the tighter he would draw the knot that held the thing high in +air. + +Now it shone forth in the darkness like an evil sort of beacon, its +silly grotesque face grinning like a true hobgoblin of Hallowe'en; for, +having scooped out its pulp and seeds, they had set a candle therein and +lighted it just before they sent it aloft. + +"Great, isn't it?" chuckled Young Joe. "Now let's get Henry Burns, and +give Colonel Witham notice." But, strangely enough, Henry Burns did not +respond to their whistles, low at first, then repeated with louder +insistence. + +"That's funny," said George Warren. "Wait here a minute and I'll go and +get him." But, to his surprise, when he had approached the corner of +the inn, where he could see Henry Burns, still crouching by the +half-opened blind, the latter youth turned for a moment and motioned +energetically for him to keep away. + +"Come on," whispered George Warren, "the thing's up; we want to get +Witham out to see it." + +But Henry Burns only turned again and uttered a warning "sh-h-h," then +resumed his place at the window. + +George Warren crept up, softly. + +It was not surprising that Henry Burns had been interested by what he +saw in the old room of the inn, and by what he at length came to hear. +At first glance, there was Colonel Witham, fat and red-faced, strangely +aroused, evidently labouring under some excitement, addressing himself +vigorously to the old woman who sat close by. His heavy fist came down, +now and then, with a thump on the arm of the chair in which he sat; and +each time this happened poor old Granny Thornton jumped nervously as +though she had been struck a blow. Her thin, peaked face was drawn and +anxious; her eyes were fixed and staring; and she shook as though her +feeble old frame would collapse. + +Henry Burns, surprised at this queer pantomine, gazed for a moment, +unable to hear what was being said. Then, the voice of Colonel Witham, +raised to a high pitch, could be clearly distinguished. What he said +surprised Henry Burns still more. + +"I tell you I'll have her," cried Colonel Witham; "you've got to give +her to me. What are you afraid of? I won't starve her. Where'll she go +when you die, if you don't? Let her go to the poorhouse, will you?" + +And he added, heartlessly, "You can't live much longer; don't you know +that?" + +Old Granny Thornton, half lifting herself from her chair, shook her head +and made a reply to Colonel Witham, which Henry Burns could not hear. +But what she said was perhaps indicated by Colonel Witham's reply. + +"Yes, I do like her," he said. "She's a flyaway and up to tricks, but +I'll take that out of her. I'll bring her up better than you could. I +need her to help take care of the place." + +Again the woman appeared to remonstrate. She pointed a bony finger at +Colonel Witham and spoke excitedly. Colonel Witham's face flushed with +anger. + +"I tell you you've got to give her to me," he cried. "I'll swear you put +her in my charge. I'll take her. It's that, or I'll pack you both off to +the poorhouse. I'll make out the papers for you to sign. You'll do it; +you've got to." + +Old Granny Thornton sprang from her chair with a vigour excited by her +agitation. She clutched an arm of the chair with one hand, while she +raised the other impressively, like a witness swearing to an oath in +court. And now, her voice keyed high with excitement, these words fell +upon the ears of Henry Burns: + +"You'll never get her, Dan Witham. You can't have her. She's been here +too long already. She's going back, now. I can't give her away, +because--because she's not mine to give. She's not mine, I tell you. +She's not mine!" + +Then, her strength exhausted by the utterance, she sank back once more +into her seat. + +Colonel Witham, his face blank with amazement, sought now to rouse her +once more. He arose and grasped her by an arm. He shook her. + +"Whose is she, then, if she's not yours?" he asked. "Whom does she +belong to?" + +What answer Granny Thornton made--if any--to this inquiry, was lost to +Henry Burns; for, at this moment, George Warren, stealing to the window, +tripped over a running vine and fell with a crash, amid a row of milk +pans that Henry Burns had carefully avoided. + +Henry Burns got one fleeting glimpse of the two by the fire springing up +in alarm, as he and George Warren fled from the spot. A moment more, the +others had joined them in flight, whooping and yelling to bring Colonel +Witham to the door. + +Looking back, as they ran, they saw presently a square patch of light +against the dark background of the house, where Colonel Witham had +thrown wide the front door; and, in the light that streamed forth from +within, the figure of the colonel stood disclosed in full relief. He was +gesticulating wildly, with angry gaze directed toward the grinning face +of the pumpkin. + +Colonel Witham strode down from the piazza and walked rapidly to the +foot of the flag-staff. He seized the one end of the halyards that +dangled within reach, and jerked hard upon it, endeavouring to shake the +pumpkin from its lofty position. But it was of no avail. Every tug upon +the rope served only to tighten the knot. The colonel glared helplessly +for a moment, and then returned into the inn. + +Again he emerged, bearing something in his hand, which he raised and +aimed directly at the gleaming face. A report rang out. The echoes of +the sound of Colonel Witham's shotgun startled the crows in all the +nests around. But the pumpkin stayed. The shot had only buried itself +within its soft shell. The colonel would not give up so easily, however. +Again and again he fired, hoping to shatter the pumpkin, or to sever the +rope that held it. + +Presently a shot extinguished the light within; and it was no longer an +easy mark to see. Breathing vengeance upon all the boys for miles +around, Colonel Witham finally gave it up, and retired, vanquished, to +the inn, to await another day. The pumpkin was still aloft. + +"Say, Henry," asked George Warren, as they started off up the hill +again, "what did you see in there, anyway? What did you want me to keep +away for?" + +Henry Burns, sober-faced and puzzled, gave a groan of disappointment. +"Oh, if you'd only kept away for a moment," he exclaimed. "I can't tell +you now; wait till by and by." + +"Jack," he added, addressing his friend, "I'm going down to Benton. Tell +John I couldn't come back. I've got something to do." And, to the +surprise of his companions, Henry Burns left them abruptly, and went +down the road at a rapid pace. + +He had something to think over, and he wanted to be alone. What he had +heard puzzled and astounded him. There was a mystery in the old inn, of +which he had caught a fleeting hint. What could it all mean? He turned +it over in his mind a hundred different ways as he walked along; as to +what he had best do; whom he should tell of his strange discovery--what +was the mystery of Bess Thornton's existence? + +Certainly the air was full of mystery and strange surprises, this +Hallowe'en night; and the old Ellison house up on the hill was not free +from it. An odd thing happened, also, there. For, passing by the old +cabinet where Benny Ellison hoarded his treasures, something impelled +Mrs. Ellison to pause for a moment, open the doors and look within. + +She smiled as she glanced over the shelves, with the odds and ends of +boyish valuables arranged there; a book of stamps; some queer old +coloured prints of Indian wars; birds' nests; fishing tackle; a +collection of birds' eggs and coins. There were some two score of these +last, set up endwise in small wooden racks. She glanced them over--and +one, bright and shiny, attracted her attention. She took it up and held +it to the light. Then she uttered a cry and sank down on the floor. + +Strangely enough, when John and Benny Ellison rushed in, at the sound of +her voice, she was sitting there, sobbing over the thing; and they +thought her taken suddenly ill. But she started up, at the sight of +Benny Ellison, and asked, in a broken voice, how he had come by it. And +when he had told her, she seemed amazed and strangely troubled. + +"Then someone must have dropped it there recently," she exclaimed. "How +could that be? It must be the same. I never saw another like it. Oh, +what can it mean?" + +Strangest of all to Benny Ellison, she would not return the coin to his +collection; but held it fast, and only promised that she would +recompense him for it. He went to bed, sullen and surly over the loss of +his treasure. Mrs. Ellison held the coin in her hand, gazing upon it as +though it had some curious power of fascination, as she went to her room +and shut the door. + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII + +GRANNY THORNTON'S SECRET + + +The second day following these happenings, Tim Reardon sat on a bank of +the stream, a short distance above the Ellison dam, fishing. There was +no off-season in the matter of fishing, for Little Tim. Nobody else +thought of trying for the pickerel now. But Tim Reardon fished the +stream from early spring until the ice came; and, in the winter, he +chopped through the ice, and fished that way, in the deep holes that he +knew. + +He was no longer barefoot, for the days were chilly. A stout pair of +shoes protected his feet, which he kicked together as he dangled a long +pole out from the shore. He was fishing in deep water now, with a lead +sinker attached to his line; and, beside him, was a milk-can filled with +water and containing live shiners for bait. These he had caught in the +brook. + +The fish weren't biting, but Little Tim was a patient fisherman. He was +so absorbed, in fact, in the thought that every next minute to come he +must surely get the longed-for bite, that he failed to note the approach +of a man from the road. And when, all at once, a big hand closed upon +his coat collar, he was so surprised and gave such a jump that he would +have lost his balance and gone into the stream, if the hand had not held +him fast. Squirming about, in the firm grasp of the person who held him, +Tim turned and faced Colonel Witham. + +"Well, I reckon I've got yer," was Colonel Witham's comment. "No use in +your trying to wriggle away." + +The fact was quite evident, and Tim's face clouded. + +"I haven't done anything to hurt," he said. "Lemme go." + +"Who said you had," replied Colonel Witham, grimly. "I didn't say you +had--and I didn't say you hadn't. I wouldn't take chances on saying that +you hadn't done a whole lot of things you oughtn't to. You've got to +come along with me, though. I'm not going to hurt yer. You needn't be +scared." + +He changed his grip on the boy, from the latter's collar to one wrist, +which he held firmly. + +"Pick up your stuff," he said, "and come along with me. No use jumping +that way. I've got you, all right." + +Little Tim, thinking over his sins, reached down and picked up the can +of bait. + +"I haven't done anything to hurt," he repeated. + +"Hm!" exclaimed the colonel. "Reckon you've done a lot of things to +hurt, if people only knew it. Here, I'll take that can. You carry your +pole. Now come along." + +"What for?" asked Tim, obeying the colonel's command to "come along" +with him. + +"I'll show you what I want," replied Colonel Witham. "You know well +enough, I guess, without any of my telling. Oh, I know you'll say you +don't; but I don't care anything about that. Just come along." + +They proceeded out to the road, whence they turned and went in the +direction of the inn. Tim thought of the pumpkin, and his heart sank. He +was going to "catch it" for that, he thought. + +They came up to the flag-staff presently, and Tim repressed a chuckle +with difficulty; for there, as on the night they had sent it aloft, hung +the big pumpkin, grinning down on them both. + +"There," said Colonel Witham, "you didn't have any hand in that--oh, no! +You wouldn't do it, of course. You never did nothing to hurt. I know +you. But see here, youngster"--and he gave a twist to Tim's +wrist--"you've got to get it down, do you understand?" + +Tim gave a sigh of relief. It wasn't a "whaling," after all. + +"Now," continued Colonel Witham, eying him sharply, "perhaps you had a +hand in that, and perhaps you didn't. I don't know and I don't care. +What I want is, to get it down. You needn't say you didn't do it, +because I wouldn't believe any of you boys, anyway. But I'm going to do +the right thing." The colonel hesitated a moment. "I'm going to be +handsome about it. You get that down and I'll give you a +quarter--twenty-five cents, do you hear?" + +Little Tim nodded. + +"Well," Colonel Witham went on, "you give me that fish-pole. I'm not +going to have you cut and run. I'm too smart for that." + +So saying, the colonel seized the boy's fish-pole, and relinquished his +grasp of his wrist. + +"Reckon you won't run away long as I've got this," he said. "Now can you +shin that pole?" + +"Sure," replied Tim. He glanced up at the lofty peak of the flag-staff, +then began removing his shoes and stockings. He was up the pole the next +moment like a squirrel, clinging fast with arms and bare toes. Half-way +up he rested, by clutching the halyard and twisting it about his arm. + +"Little monkey!" ejaculated Colonel Witham; "I'd give a dollar to know +if he put it up there. Well, reckon I've got to give him that quarter, +though, as long as I said I would." + +Tim did the topmost length of the pole cautiously. It was a high one, +with a slim topmast spliced on with iron bands. He knew how to climb +this like a sailor; careful to hold himself close in to the slender +stick, and not throw his weight out, so as to put a strain on it that +might cause it to snap and let him fall; careful not to get it to +swaying. + +Then, almost at the very top, he rested again for a moment, sustaining +part of his weight by the halyards, as before. When he had got his +breath, he drew himself up close to where the big pumpkin hung, on the +opposite side; dug his toes in hard, and held on with them and one hand. +He reached his other hand into a trousers' pocket, and drew forth a +knife that he had opened before he began the ascent. + +Holding fast to the pole, he cut the rope that held the pumpkin. It +fell, grazing one of his knees, and would have dislodged him had he not +guarded against it. The next moment, it landed with a crash at the base +and was shattered into fragments. + +Little Tim laboriously loosened the knot Harvey had tied, and let the +halyard run free. A moment more, and he was on the ground with Colonel +Witham. + +The colonel eyed the wreck of the hobgoblin with satisfaction. Then he +turned to Tim. + +"You're a smart little rascal," he said, "and a plucky one. I'll say +that for you. There's your fish-pole and your can." + +Colonel Witham paused, and reluctantly put his hand in his trousers +pocket. With still greater reluctance, he drew forth a twenty-five cent +piece and tendered it to the boy. + +"Here," he said, "it's a lot of money, but I won't say as you haven't +earned it." + +To Colonel Witham's astonishment, however, the boy shook his head. + +"I don't want any money," he said. "I wouldn't take it for that." + +Another moment, he had slipped into shoes and stockings, snatched up his +pole and can, and was walking quickly down the road. + +Little Tim had a conscience. + +"Well, if that don't beat me!" exclaimed the amazed Colonel Witham, as +he stood staring at the boy. "Who'd ever have thought it?" + +But soon a great light dawned upon him. + +"Aha!" he exclaimed. "The little rascal! He stuck it up there, or my +name's not Witham. That's why he wouldn't take the money for getting it +down. Reckon I ought to have given him a taste of that stick, instead of +offering him a quarter." + +But even Colonel Witham, when he came to think upon it, knew deep down +in his heart that he had a sort of admiration for Little Tim. + +In the meantime, Henry Burns, turning over in his mind the secret that +had been partly revealed to him, through the words of Grannie Thornton, +could not make up his mind just what to do about it. He had almost +decided to entrust what he knew to Lawyer Estes, for him to unravel, +when the lawyer was called out of town for several weeks, on an +important case. Again, another event intervened to cause delay. Miss +Matilda Burns made a visit to her home in Massachusetts, and took Henry +Burns with her; and it was well into November, close upon Thanksgiving, +in fact, when they returned to Benton. By this time early winter had set +in, and some heavy snow falls had buried all the country around and +about Benton deep under drifts. + +"You're just in time," said Harvey, as he and Tom Harris greeted Henry +Burns on the latter's return. "We've got a week's holiday, and look what +I've made for us." + +Harvey proudly displayed a big toboggan, some seven feet in length, in +the making of which he had expended the surplus time and energy of the +last two weeks. "No easy job steaming those ends and making 'em curl up +together even," he added; "but she'll go some. Say, you ought to see the +slide we've got, down the mountain above Ellison's. Well go up this +afternoon, if you like." + +They were up there, all of them, early in the afternoon, George and +Young Joe Warren driving one of the Warren horses hitched to a sleigh, +and drawing a string of toboggans after. Blanketing the horse some +distance above the Ellison dam, they proceeded up the surface of the +frozen stream to the slide. + +It was, as Henry Burns said, enough to make the hair on one's fur cap +stand on end, to look at it. From the summit of what might almost be +termed a small mountain--certainly, a tremendous hill--to the base, down +a precipitous incline, the boys had constructed a chute, by banking the +snow on either side. This chute led down on to the frozen stream, where +a similar chute had been formed for a half-mile or more down stream. + +Moreover, a temporary thaw, with a fall of sleet, had coated the bed of +the chute with a glassy surface, like polished steel, or glare ice. +Henry Burns, standing beside the slide, half-way up the mountain, saw a +toboggan with four youths dash down the steep incline, presently. Little +Tim sat in front, yelling like an Indian at a war-dance. They fairly +took Henry Burns's breath away as they shot past him. He looked at +Harvey and shrugged his shoulders. + +"Guess that's pretty near as exciting as cruising in Samoset bay, isn't +it?" he remarked. "Well, you hold the tiller, Jack, and I'm game; though +it's new sport to me. I never spent a winter in Maine before." + +"Oh, there isn't much steering to do here," replied Harvey; "you only +have to keep her in the chute, and not let her get to swerving. It's +easy. You'll like it." + +It certainly did seem a risky undertaking, to a novice, standing at the +very summit of the mountain and looking along down the icy plunge of the +chute, far below to the stream. It took all of Henry Burns's nerve, to +seat himself at the front end of the toboggan, while Jack Harvey gave a +shove off. For the first moment, it was almost like falling off a +steeple. Then he caught the exhilaration of the sport, as the toboggan +gathered speed and shot down the incline at lightning speed. + +Henry Burns had hardly time to gather his thoughts, and to glory in the +excitement, when they were at the foot of the descent, and gliding +swiftly along the surface of the stream. + +"My, but that's great!" he exclaimed. "It's next to sailing, if it isn't +as good. Come on, let's try it again." + +The mountain was admirably situated for such a sport; for it rose up +from the shore where the stream made a sharp bend in its course, forming +a promontory that overlooked the surrounding land. Thus the chute, +after leaving the base of it, continued in a straight line down stream. + +The sport, thrilling as it was, however, grew tame for Young Joe. He +wanted something different. He had brought along, also, a steel-shod +sled, known to the boys as a "pointer," because its forward ends ran out +to sharp points, protected by the turning up of the steel runners. He +declared himself ready to make the descent on that. + +"Don't be a fool, Joe," remonstrated his elder brother; "you can't +handle that here. You'll go so fast you can't steer it." + +If Young Joe had had any misgivings and doubts upon the matter before, +however, this remonstrance settled them. A little opposition was all +that was needed to set him off. Modestly calling the attention of all +the others to the fact that he was about to attempt a feat never before +tried, Young Joe lay at full length upon the sled and pushed off. + +Certainly, never before had any object shot down the mountain side at +the speed Young Joe was travelling. Fortunately for him, the sides of +the chute were sufficiently high to keep the sled within bounds, and on +its course. The sled made the descent in safety and darted out across +the surface of the stream, still within the chute. Then something +unexpected happened. + +The chute had been designed for toboggans, and continued only as far as +the fastest one of them would travel. Watching Young Joe's daring feat, +the boys saw him make the descent and speed along the level, until he +reached the spot where the toboggans usually stopped. And there, also, +Young Joe's sled did stop, its sharp points digging into the crust and +sticking fast. + +But not Young Joe. Like an arrow fired from a crossbow, he left the sled +and continued on over the icy surface of the crust downstream. It was a +smooth, glare surface, and he slid as though it were greased. Far down +stream, they saw him finally come to a stop--the most astonished youth +that ever slid down a hill. He ended in a little drift of snow blown +against a projecting log, and arose, sputtering. + +Strangely enough, thanks to thick mittens, and a cap drawn down to cover +his face, he was not even scratched. He picked himself up, looked about +him, dazed for a moment, and then walked slowly back. + +And after all, the upshot of Young Joe's experiment was, that sleds +became popular on the chute, and almost came to exclude the toboggan; +only the boys continued the chute for fully a mile down stream, +shovelling away to the glare ice. Young Joe had introduced a new and +more exciting form of sport. + +The next two days afforded rare enjoyment, for the slide was at its +best, and the weather clear and bracing. But the afternoon of the third +day was not so propitious. It began to grow cloudy at midday, and some +light flakes of snow fell, as they ate their luncheon and drank their +coffee, beside a fire of spruce and birch at the summit of the +mountain, near the head of the slide. + +They continued till about five in the afternoon, however, when the snow +began falling steadily, and they took their last slide. A party of three +of them, Harvey and Henry Burns and George Warren, had proceeded nearly +to the Ellison dam, on their way to Benton, when Henry Burns suddenly +stopped, with an exclamation of annoyance. + +"I've got to go back," he said; "I've left my buckskin gloves and Tom's +hatchet up by the fire." + +"Oh, let 'em go till to-morrow," said Harvey, who was feeling hungry. + +"No, it won't do," replied Henry Burns, looking back wearily to where +the faint smoke of the day's fire still showed through the light +snow-fall. "You fellows needn't wait, though. Keep on, and perhaps I'll +catch up." + +He started back, plodding slowly, for he was tired with the frequent +climbing of the mountain throughout the day. The others, thinking of the +supper awaiting them, continued on the way home. + +It was a little more than a mile that Henry Burns had to go; and, by the +time he was half-way there, it was snowing hard. The storm had increased +perceptibly; and, moreover, the wind was rising, and it blew the snow +into his eyes so that he could hardly see. He kept on stubbornly, +however. + +Presently, there came a gust that reminded him of a quick squall on the +water. It seemed to gather a cloud of the driving snow and fairly bury +him under it. He staggered for a moment and stood still, holding his +hands to his face for protection. + +"That's a three-reef blow, all right," he muttered, and went on again, +finally beginning the ascent of the mountain. But there he found himself +suddenly assailed by a succession of gusts that made it impossible to +try to climb. Moreover, the air was rapidly becoming so thick with snow +that he saw he was in danger of being lost. + +He made up his mind quickly, realizing the danger he was in, and started +back down stream. He must gain shelter soon, or he would be unable to +find his way. He was not any too hasty in his decision. In a few minutes +the outlines of the stream and its banks were blended into a blurred +white mass. Then he could no longer see the shore at any distance, and +even the path was being blotted out. + +He found, too, it was with difficulty that he could breathe, for the +incessant flying of the snow into his nostrils. Estimating, as best he +could, where the Half Way House must lie, he struck off from the stream +and headed for that. He stumbled on blindly, till his progress was +suddenly arrested by his bumping into an object that proved, most +fortunately, to be Colonel Witham's flag-pole. Even at that short +distance, the inn was now hidden; but he knew where it must be, and +presently stood safe upon its piazza. + +It was an odd situation for Henry Burns. Once before, had Colonel Witham +refused him shelter under this roof, and that, too, in a storm. But he +knew there was no help for it now. He had got to enter--and he had got +to stay. No human being could go on to-night. He hesitated only for a +moment, and then opened the door and stepped within. + +The office was vacant, and the air was chilly. The remains of a wood +fire smouldered, rather than burned, in the fireplace. There was no lamp +lighted, although it was quite dark, with the storm and approaching +evening. The place seemed deserted. + +Henry Burns stepped to the desk, took a match from a box and lighted the +lamp that hung there. It cast a dismal glow, and added little to the +cheer of the place, although it enabled him to distinguish objects +better. He turned to the hearth, raked the embers together, blew up a +tiny blaze and replenished the fire from the wood-box. He threw off his +outer garments, and drew a chair toward the blaze. + +But now, from an adjoining room, the door of which was slightly ajar, +there came unexpectedly a thin, querulous voice that startled him. He +recognized, the next moment, the tones of old Granny Thornton. + +"Is that you, Dan?" she asked. + +Henry Burns opened the door and answered. She seemed afraid, until he +had told her who he was, begging him to go away from the place and not +harm a poor, lone woman. But she recognized him, when he had spoken +again, and had lighted another lamp and held it for her to look at him. + +She sat in an arm-chair, in which she had been evidently sleeping, +propped up with pillows; and looked ill and feeble. + +"I'm cold," she said, and shivered. + +Henry Burns dragged her chair out into the office, by the fire, while +she clung to the arms of it, as though in terror of tumbling out on to +the floor. And, in that brief journey from room to room, it flashed over +Henry Burns that the time and opportunity had come for him to know the +secret she possessed. + +"Dan won't like to find you here," she muttered. "He ought to be +here--leaving me all alone. My, how it blows! How'd you get here, +anyway? Don't mind what Dan says; you'll have to stay." + +"He'll not be here to-night, with this storm keeping up," answered Henry +Burns, "Where is he?" + +"He went to town with Bess," said she. "Why don't she come? I'm lonesome +without her. I'm hungry, too. She ought to make me a cup of tea." + +"I'll make it," said Henry Burns; "and I'll get something for myself, +too. I'll pay for it, so Witham won't lose by it." + +He made his way to the kitchen and the pantry; lighted a fire in the +kitchen stove, and made tea for himself and Granny Thornton; and toasted +some bread for her. Then he foraged for himself and ate a hearty meal, +for he was ravenously hungry. And, all the while, he was thinking what +he should do and say to the old woman, nodding in the chair out in the +office. + +He returned there, and put more wood on the fire, so that it blazed up +brightly, and the sparks shot up the flue with a roar. The roar was more +than answered by the wind outside. It rattled the glass in the windows, +and dashed the snow against them as though it would break them in. It +found a hundred cracks and crevices about the old inn, to moan and +shriek through, and blew a thin film of snow under the door. + +Old Granny Thornton shook and quivered, as some of the sharper blasts +cried about the corners of the house. She seemed frightened; and once +she spoke up in a half whisper, and asked Henry Burns if he believed +there were ever spirits out on such a night as this. He would have +laughed away her fears, under ordinary circumstances; but it suited his +purpose better now to shake his head, and answer, truthfully enough, +that he didn't know. + +Presently, the old woman started up in her chair and stared anxiously at +one of the snow-covered windows. + +"They might be lost!" she cried, hoarsely. "They could be lost to-night +in this storm, like folks were in the great blizzard twenty years ago. +Oh, Bess"--she uttered the girl's name with a sob--"I hope you're safe. +You'd die in this snow. Say, boy, do you suppose they've got shelter? +It's not Dan Witham I care for, whether he's dead or not, but Little +Bess." + +Henry Burns stepped in front of the old woman, and looked into her eyes. + +"What do you care whether Bess is lost or not?" he asked. "She don't +belong to you. She's not yours. You're not her grandmother." + +At the words, so quick and unexpected, Granny Thornton shrank back as +though she had received a blow. Her eyes rolled in her head, and she +seemed to be trying to reply; but the words would not come. She gasped +and choked, and clutched at her throat with her shrunken hands. + +Henry Burns spoke again, grasping one of her hands, and compelling her +to listen. + +"Somebody else wants her home more than you do," he said. "Why don't you +give her back? She's too smart and bright to go to the poorhouse, when +you die. Why do you keep her here?" + +He spoke at random, knowing not whether he was near the secret or not, +but determined that he would make her speak out. + +But she sank down in her chair, huddled into an almost shapeless, +half-lifeless heap. Her head was buried in her hands. She rocked feebly +to and fro. Once she roused herself a bit, and strove to ask a question, +but seemed to be overcome with weakness. Henry Burns thought he divined +what she would ask, and answered. + +"I know it's so," he said. "You can't hide it any longer. I've found it +out." + +It seemed as though she would not speak again. The minutes went by, +ticked off in clamorous sound, by a big clock on the wall. Granny +Thornton still crouched all in a heap in her chair, moaning to herself. +Henry Burns remained silent and waited. + +Then when, all at once, the old woman brought herself upright, with a +jerk, and spoke to him, the sound of her voice amazed him. It was not +unlike the tone in which she had answered Colonel Witham, the night +Henry Burns overheard her. It was shrill and sharp, though with a +whining intonation. What she said was most unexpected. + +"Have you been to school?" she queried. + +Henry Burns stared hard. He thought her mind wandering. But she +continued. + +"Don't stare that way--haven't you any wit? Can you write? Hurry--I'm +afeared Dan will be here." + +Henry Burns understood, in a flash. He sprang to the desk, got the pen +and ink there and a block of coarse paper, the top sheet of which had +some figuring on it. He returned to the old woman's side and sat down, +with the paper on his knees. She stared at him blankly for a few +moments--then said abruptly: + +"Write it down just as I tell you. I'm going to die soon--Don't stare +like that--write it down. Dan Witham can't harm me then, and I'm going +to tell. Her name isn't Bess Thornton--it's Bess Ellison." + +Henry Burns's hand almost refused to write. But he controlled himself, +and followed her. + +"Dan shan't have her," she continued. "I'll give her up, first. Twelve +years ago last June she was born. And she weren't as pretty as my girl's +baby, that was born the same day--though they looked alike, too. + +"My girl's name was Elizabeth, but she's dead. She was a sight prettier +than Lizzie Anderson that married Jim Ellison. But my girl married Tom +Howland, and he ran away and left her, and that just before the baby was +born. And her baby, Elizabeth Howland, was born the same day, I tell +you, as Lizzie Ellison's baby. That one was named Elizabeth, +too--Elizabeth Ellison. That's Bess. + +"And when the two babies were born, why we were poor and Jim Ellison was +well-to-do. The Thorntons got in debt, and he bought up the mortgages. +And when Bess Ellison was born, her mother was so ill she didn't see the +baby for many weeks; and my girl went up to the house in about three +weeks to nurse both babies, we being poor. And I went up, too, to look +after things. + +"I guess my girl was wild, too, though I won't blame her now. One day +she went to town and didn't come back; and she left me a note, saying +she wouldn't ever come back, anyway. And I could bring up the +baby--which I didn't like to do, because I'd brought up one, and now +she'd run away. + +"So I was getting ready to go back to the house and take the baby with +me; and I took care of both babies for a day or two. And just as I was +planning to go back, there lay the two, side by side in the bed; and I +could hardly tell which was which--they looked so much alike. + +"Then what put it into my head, I don't know. But I thought that, if I +changed the two, nobody'd know, because Bess Ellison's mother hadn't +seen her. And I thought of how the property would come back to the +Thorntons that way, if I put my girl's Bess in the other's place. And I +up and did it, quick. + +"Then, when I got home with Lizzie Ellison's baby, why I found I'd been +so hasty I'd brought away a chain and bit of money, that they'd put +about her neck. It was an old coin that had been in the family for +years, and was thought to carry good luck--so I learned afterwards. I +meant to take it back, but I couldn't, right away, and then I lost the +coin. Oh, how I hunted for it! But I never could find it. + +"Now are you putting it all down? Be quick, or Dan might come in. It was +all for nothing--what I did--for my girl's baby died two years later. +Let me look what you've got there. I know school-writing. I went to +school once. Give me the pen. I'll put my name down to that. Hold my +hand, so it won't shake. That's my name. It don't look like much, I +guess. But that's it." + +Tremblingly, the old woman took the pen and, guided by Henry Burns, +subscribed her name to what he had written. Then she spoke again: + +"Go into that bed-room and look in the top drawer. There's a key there. +That's the key to the old house." + +Henry Burns followed her instructions, and brought forth the key. She +bade him keep it, and go the next day and get the stuff in the attic: +the chain, minus its locket; the little dress, and a pair of shoes. She +mourned the loss of the coin, lest her strange story might not be +believed by Mrs. Ellison, without that evidence--not knowing that the +coin had even now come into Mrs. Ellison's own hands. + +She sank into a doze not long after; and Henry Burns also slept, on a +couch in the office, with a buffalo robe over him. He woke early next +day, waded through the drifts to the old house, and got the things from +the drawer. Then he went down the road. + +Below the old mill, near the road that ran up to the Ellison farm, a +horse and sledge came in sight, travelling slowly. Henry Burns's pulse +beat quicker as he recognized Colonel Witham and Bess coming up from +Benton, where they had passed the night. Colonel Witham scowled upon +him, but the girl smiled. + +"Hello," she said. "Isn't everything pretty, all covered with snow? +Where'd you come from so early?" + +Henry Burns could hardly answer her. He faced Colonel Witham. + +"Granny Thornton's got an errand up at the Ellisons' for Bess," he said. +"I just came from the inn, I left the money for my lodging, too. Mrs. +Ellison wants to see Bess." + +Colonel Witham grumbled. "I won't wait for her," he said. "She'll have +to foot it up through the snow." + +"I don't care," exclaimed the girl, and sprang lightly out. + +Henry Burns never did remember what was said on that walk up to the +farm. His mind was taken up with one subject. He had a vague +remembrance, after it was all over, of knocking at the door, and of +their being both admitted; of his almost ignoring the greeting of the +brothers; of his finding himself and Bess somehow in the parlour with +Mrs. Ellison. + +He remembered, afterward, of handing the writing he had done, at old +Granny Thornton's bidding, to Mrs. Ellison, and of her starting to read +it and breaking down suddenly; of her asking him many questions about +it, and of his answering them almost in a daze. He remembered that Mrs. +Ellison resumed the reading, the tears streaming down her cheeks; of how +he laid down the little bundle of stuff he had brought from the attic, +and pointed it out to Mrs. Ellison. + +He remembered that Mrs. Ellison sprang up and seized the child in her +arms--and just about that time Henry Burns stole out and left the two +together; so that he never did know just what happened next. + + + + +CHAPTER XIX + +THE MYSTERY OF THE MILL + + +Henry Burns, slipping quietly away from the farmhouse on the hill, +tramped joyously through the snowdrifts to the highway, "caught a ride" +on a sledge going in to Benton and started homeward. He had not ridden +far, however, when a double-seated sleigh appeared in sight, which +seemed even at a distance to be familiar. It became more so when, at +length, he made out clearly a white horse belonging to Tom Harris's +father, and, occupying the two seats, his friends Tom and Bob, Jack +Harvey and George Warren. + +Perhaps they didn't give three cheers and a tiger when they espied Henry +Burns! Jack Harvey and George Warren, struggling down the road through +the storm of the afternoon before, had worried not a little about him, +and would have gone back to his aid, if they could have done so. But the +wind and snow had been too fierce; and they could only plod on, hoping +that his usual luck and cleverness would not desert him, and that he +would gain shelter in time. + +They seized Henry Burns now and tumbled him into the sleigh, in rough +and hearty fashion; and they turned about and drove back to Benton at +the very best pace that the big horse could make through the snow. Henry +Burns told the story of the night, as they proceeded. + +"Say, that's like a story out of the library," remarked George Warren. +"Just think of it! Little Bess a sister of the Ellison fellows. What did +they say, Henry, when you told them?" + +"Nothing," replied Henry Burns. "I didn't give 'em a chance. I got out +quick." + +"Well, I'm mighty glad for her," exclaimed Jack Harvey, heartily. "She's +the pluckiest little thing I ever saw. I'm glad she's got a good home at +last." + +It was some time before Henry Burns spoke again. He seemed to be +considering something soberly. Finally he said, "Yes, and they need the +mill now, more than ever, with her to care for. I wonder if they'll ever +get it." + +The mill passed out of mind, however, for some time, when there fell +still another great snow on the following day, heavier than the +preceding storm. It piled drift upon drift, and made the roads about +Benton, for miles in every direction, impassible. It shut each farmhouse +in upon itself; the Ellisons in their home; Colonel Witham and Granny +Thornton alone in the Half Way House. The old mill was silent for a +whole week. + +Then there came a magazine to Tom Harris, bringing a timely suggestion +to the boys of Benton. It told of the snowshoe of the Norwegians, the +ski, with which a runner could travel through the deep drifts of loose +snow, and coast down the steep hills, as easily as on a toboggan. Soon, +working in spare hours, each youth had fashioned himself a pair. They +got the long, thin strips of hard wood, steamed the ends and curled them +like sled runners, sand-papered and polished them, and put on the straps +of leather to hold the toe. + +They learned how to go through the drifts with these, sliding the shoe +along through the loose snow, instead of lifting the foot, as with the +Canadian snowshoe. They got each a long pole, to steady one's self with, +and practised sliding down the terraces of Tom Harris's garden, standing +erect and doing their best to keep on their feet. + +When they had had their preliminary tumbles, and were proficient in the +sport, they started off one day and went along up stream; tried the +steep banks that led down on to that, and found it more exciting than +tobogganning. + +Tim Reardon used his skis to get up above the dams, where the +spring-holes in the stream were. And, through the Christmas holidays, he +made his headquarters at the cabin that belonged to the canoeists, which +he kept hot by a rousing fire. Day after day, he set out from there, +skiing his way up stream, dragging after him a toboggan on which was +loaded a pail half filled with water. In this swam his live bait, +winnows that he had caught through the ice in the brook. Also he carried +an axe, a borrowed ice chisel, some lines and other stuff. + +One might have seen him there, through the afternoons, watching sharply +the five lines that he tended, and varying the monotony of waiting by an +occasional ski slide down the neighbouring bank. + +He had five holes chopped through the ice, and a line set in each, +baited with a live minnow. This line was attached to a strong, limber +switch of birch, set up slant-wise over the hole, with the butt stuck +fast in a hole chopped in the ice and banked with snow. And this switch +flew a little streamer of coloured calico; so that Tim had only to see +the streamer bobbing up and down, at any distance, to know that there +was a pickerel fast on the hook. + +He had famous sport there for ten days or more, for the fish were +hungry, and bigger ones came to the bait than in summer. Every third day +he went back in to Benton with his catch, which he had kept packed in +snow, sold them at the market, and was fairly rolling in wealth; and +when, one afternoon, he hooked and landed an eight-pound fish, and +travelled to town with it, and saw it set up in the market, with a sign +on it to the effect that it had been caught by Timothy Reardon of +Benton, he was the proudest boy to be found anywhere. + +Then, just following Christmas, there was a glorious dinner up at the +Ellison farm for Henry Burns and his friends, in honour of Little Bess. +Tim got an invitation to that, too, through his loyal friends, Henry +Burns and Jack Harvey; and he and Joe Warren ate more than any four +others, and Young Joe, who had absconded with the most of a huge mince +pie, left over from the dinner, was found afterward groaning on the +kitchen sofa, and had to be dosed with ginger and peppermint, so that he +could partake of cornballs and maple candy later on. + +And there was Bess Ellison--Bess Thornton no longer--looking remarkably +pretty and uncommonly mischievous, dressed no more in dingy gingham, but +in the best Mrs. Ellison could buy and make up for her; and she held out +her hand to Henry Burns and took him in to Mrs. Ellison, who said +something to him that made him come very near blushing, and nearly lose +his customary self-control. + +There was Benny Ellison, also, who was dragged in by Bess, and made to +shake hands with Henry Burns, and call old scores off; so that even he +warmed into enthusiasm, and enjoyed himself with the others. + +Then, somewhere about that time, there was a lawyer's visit to the Half +Way House, where there were certain papers drawn up, and signed by +Granny Thornton, with a trembling hand; which made it sure that Little +Bess would no more be uncertain of her home and her parentage, but would +remain where she belonged, up at the big farmhouse. + +So the winter passed and the spring came in. Its days of thaw made the +old stream groan and crack, as the great ice fields split here and +there, and seams opened. There were nights when the water, that had +overflowed at the edge of the ice fields, close by the shore, and +formed a narrow stream on either side, froze fast again; so that there +was a glare thoroughfare for miles and miles up the stream into the +country, of ice just thick enough to bear the boys of Benton. + +They made excursions far up along shore this way, skating at furious +speed; pausing now and then to set fire to the bunches of tall dried +grasses and reeds, that protruded through the ice in the midst of the +stream. These flamed fiercely at the mere touch of a match. + +Then, as it grew later, this overflow at the edges of the ice field +froze no more; but lay, several feet deep of clear water, over that part +of the ice. They could get on to the stream then only at certain points, +where the ledges made out, or by throwing planks across. Soon the water +began to pour with a louder and louder roar over the old Ellison dam, +and a stretch of clear, swift-flowing water opened up for some distance +back of it. + +It became rare and dangerous sport, in these days, to get out on the ice +field and work at a seam with planks and poles, prying loose a great +sheet of the still thick ice, and watch it go over the dam. It had a +most spectacular and awe-inspiring way of making the plunge. A great +block of the ice, several yards square, would drift swiftly down, shoot +far over the edge, then break apart of its own weight, the huge chunks +falling with a mighty splash and commotion into the boiling pool below. +Down they would go, like monsters of the sea, borne by the momentum of +their plunge from the height. Then they would shoot upward, lift +themselves out with a dull roar amid the seething mass of water and +smaller ice, rise above the surface, fall again, and, caught in the +embrace of the swift current, go tossing and crunching down toward +Benton. + +Little Tim's sheer delight in this sport exceeded that of all others. He +displayed a recklessness that brought upon him the assertion by Jack +Harvey that he was "a double-dyed little idiot;" and Henry Burns gave +him solemn warning that some day he would go over the dam, if he didn't +stop taking chances. But they couldn't check Tim's ardour. He was the +hardest worker, with ice-chisel or pole, and the last to leave a sheet +of ice that had broken loose and started down stream. For, not always +did the ice sever at the point where they were working, but sometimes +above them; so that a sharp watch had to be kept against the danger of +being caught on an ice patch, and carried along with it. + +Then, through the days of working thus at the field, and by the natural +wearing away with the spring thaw, the water gained its freedom more and +more; so that there was now a quarter of a mile of black open water +between the dam and the edge of the ice. + +There came, then, a memorable afternoon, which had been preceded by a +day of rain, loosening up the bands of winter far and wide, raising the +water in the stream by the inrush of countless little brooks all along +its course; whereby the whole ice jam, and in some places, fields of +logs that had been stored shingle-fashion for the winter, creaked and +groaned and snapped, and the whole valley of the stream was filled with +the noise of the dissolution. Farmers and mill men eyed the scene with +some apprehension, and talked of freshet. Tim Reardon eyed it with +delight, forecasting days of warmth and fishing in store. + +The boys from Benton were upon the stream, that afternoon, though they +knew, deep in their hearts, they had no business there; that it was +dangerous; that the whole ice field was shaky. They worked at the ice +with might and main, and cheered lustily when some great cake went +tumbling over the dam. + +Then, of a sudden, there came a cry, that started somewhere on shore, +ran all along the banks of the stream and came down to the boys at their +play--a cry of alarm and warning. They looked about quickly. What was +the danger? Persons on shore were pointing far up stream. The next +instant, they discerned the whole great ice field, as far as they could +see, in motion; crumbling about the shores and heaving up into hummocks +here and there. Then they felt the ice beneath their feet moving. The +deliverance of the stream from winter was at hand. The ice was going +out. + +The wild scramble for shore was a thing not to be forgotten. Some of the +boys had travelled away up beyond the vicinity of the dam, where the +logs were stored within a boom. It was perilous footing across these, +for the few moments that it took to regain the shore. The water opened +here and there, in which the logs churned and slipped dangerously. + +It was every one for himself, then, and lucky to gain the bank without +bruises, or a ducking--or worse. It was all so sudden, so terrifying, so +confusing, that no one paused to see who else was in danger. + +But when Henry Burns and Jack Harvey and George Warren, Tom and Bob and +John Ellison had gained the shore, a cry came in that turned them. Away +over toward the other shore, they espied Little Tim and Bess Ellison +scrambling desperately. Where the girl had come from, they did not +know--only that she was there now, and in peril. + +There was no hope of their regaining the farther shore. Already the ice +had opened up to such an extent that a great gap of running water lay +between the two and that bank. Would they be able to make the flight +across? + +A cry of horror went up from shore now; for, even as the boy and girl +seemed to be nearing safety, a part of the field on which they stood +separated from the rest, and began its journey down stream. But, with +this, there was added to the dread and dismay of those who gazed the +fact that the sheet of ice held two more captives. Henry Burns and +Harvey had rushed across the ice to the rescue, only in time to be +trapped with Tim and Bess. + +They could all swim, but the attempt must have been fatal. The open +water that now lay between them and the shore was filled with small +blocks of ice, ground by the larger masses. One could not make headway +through that. Was there any chance? Little Tim saw one. + +Grasping Harvey by an arm, he pointed to a seam in the ice. "Chop there, +Jack!" he cried. "Here, Henry, take my ice-chisel; you're stronger than +I am. If we can cut loose, perhaps we can work in shore on the small +piece." + +They saw the chance--a desperate one--and took it. Holding in his hands +the chisel he had been working with, Harvey began chopping furiously at +the seam in the ice. Henry Burns, with Tim's chisel, did likewise. A few +moments' work sufficed. The section on which they stood, already half +broken away, yielded to the efforts of the two. It cracked, severed from +the larger part, teetered dangerously and drifted away. The four were +floating on a junk of ice that would just support them. + +The cry went up to get a rope; and John Ellison and George Warren darted +down along shore toward the mill. Using the blades of the heavy +long-handled chisels, as best they could, for paddles, Henry Burns and +Harvey strove to force the heavy block of ice toward shore. They +succeeded in a measure, but they were going steadily and surely down +stream. + +It seemed ages before John Ellison and George Warren emerged from the +mill. They had encountered Colonel Witham there, just as they had +gathered up a long coil of light rope. He, anxious for the fate of his +mill in the impending freshet, had not heard the cries farther up shore, +and knew nothing of what was going on. He darted after them, as he saw +them hurrying toward the door, demanding to know what they would do with +his rope. They had no time to explain. Colonel Witham found himself +shouldered out of the way, and sent spinning, by John Ellison; and when +he caught himself they were rods away. + +Standing now upon the shore, opposite the drifting cake, John Ellison +handed one end of the rope to George Warren. Taking the other end, he +separated the line into two coils, whirled one about his head and threw +it far out. It fell short, splashing into the water. He tried again, and +failed. + +[Illustration: "HE SEPARATED THE LINE INTO TWO COILS, WHIRLED ONE ABOUT +HIS HEAD AND THREW IT FAR OUT."] + +The ice raft, with its four prisoners, was driving faster now, caught by +the swifter water. It was nearing the dam. + +"Let me try once," said George Warren, as they shifted their places +farther down shore, following the ice. + +He went at it more carefully; took time to arrange the coils so they +would run free through the air; gave a hard swing to the coil in his +right hand and let it fly. Henry Burns, reaching far forward to meet the +rope, was almost on the point of grasping it; but it seemed to recede as +it fell, losing force and splashing into the water a few feet away. The +next moment, Henry Burns was overboard, in the icy water, seizing the +end before it sank, upborne as it was by floating ice. + +He fought his way back, and Harvey and Tim dragged him to safety, +chilled, and his teeth chattering. Then the four grasped the rope and +held hard. George Warren, with a sailor's instinct, had found a stout +bush by the bank and taken a few turns of the rope about that. + +The cake of ice, arrested in its course, brought up, while the swift +running current overflowed it. The four were ankle deep in water. But +the rope held. Slowly, but surely, the ice raft yielded to the strain. +It came in, out of the rush of the current, into quieter water. It +touched the shore--and the yawning brink of the dam was only a few rods +away. + +They were ashore now and running for the mill, where there was a fire +that would warm them. They were half frozen, with the chilling of the +water and with the fright. Even Colonel Witham, mindful now of the +situation, was there to let them in and allow them the warmth of the +fire. + +"You're soaking wet," he said to Henry Burns. "There's some old clothes +that Jim Ellison left, hanging in that closet on the floor above. +They'll swallow you, but they're dry." + +Henry Burns darted up the stairs. + +As he did so, the stairs trembled and shook beneath his feet. The whole +mill seemed to be quivering on its foundations. At the same moment, a +cry went up from the outside that the dam had given way. The crowd +gathered on the bank saw a piece of the dam suddenly collapse, through +which aperture a mass of logs, grinding blocks of ice and debris from up +stream tore its way. + +Then screams came from the mill. Terrified, the crowd, gazing, saw one +side of it totter and sway. The sound of wrenching timbers, collapsing +frame-work and the twisting of iron filled the air. + +Henry Burns, clutching a window frame, saw the panorama of the stream in +tumult, of the shattered dam, and of the distant shore, suddenly open up +before his eyes, as a great mass of the mill, its foundations torn away, +sagged off and plunged into the waters. He, on the upper floor, and his +companions on the floor below, found themselves at once upon the brink +of the swift-running waters of the stream, saved, as by a miracle, by +the other half of the mill remaining firm. + +Looking now upon the wreck, Henry Burns espied a strange thing. Three +pair of the huge grinding stones had gone with the destruction of that +part of the mill. One pair alone remained, just before him. It was that +pair upon which, on one occasion, James Ellison had placed his foot, in +satisfaction, and remarked that all was safe; stones that had ground no +grist for years before James Ellison's death, but which had been +disconnected from the shafting. + +Now they were half upset, and one lay wrenched from the steel thread +that had held it down close to the lower one. Thus there was disclosed a +space cut in the lower stone, that held a small tin box, such as +merchants use for papers. + +Henry Burns stared, for one brief moment, in amazement. Then, crawling +cautiously over, he seized the box and darted back to the window. He +swung himself out on to a small roof that covered the door below; hung +from that for a moment, and dropped into a heap of snow that had been +shovelled into a pile there. At the same moment, the little party on the +lower floor rushed forth into safety. + + * * * * * + +What they found in this box, a half-hour later, when it was opened +before all, in the Ellison dining-room, fairly took their breaths away; +fairly made the old house creak with the whoops that filled it; made +Mrs. Ellison weep a flood of joyous tears; nearly set John and James +Ellison clear out of their wits. + +The old mill--wrecked to be sure, but valuable still, and easily to be +restored, with the rebuilding of the dam--the old mill was theirs. There +was the deed from Colonel Witham back to James Ellison, to prove it. +There were the deeds to the lands--all theirs now; no longer Colonel +Witham's. And more, and greater still the surprise. The old inn, the +Half Way House, was not Colonel Witham's, at all. It had been James +Ellison's, and there were the papers to show that. It was theirs now, +and all the land for acres around it. They were no longer poor. James +Ellison's bank had been found at last. The old mill's secret had been +torn from hiding by the freshet. + +Some days later, following a protracted visit on the part of Lawyer +Estes to the Half Way House, there emerged from the doorway of the same, +at evening, a portly person that could not be mistaken. He brought out +the horse from the barn, harnessed it to a carriage, and drove away down +the road at a furious pace. + +The next day, Colonel Witham was missing from the inn and from Benton. + +"Have him arrested?" responded John Ellison, in answer to his brother's +query; "I don't care about that. He's gone, and good riddance. Hello, +there come Henry Burns and Jack Harvey. Let's all go down and take a +look at what's left of the mill." + +"Poor gran'," said Bess to Mrs. Ellison, half timidly, "what will become +of her now?" + +"We'll bring her up here, dear," said that motherly woman, "and take +care of her during the little life she has left. We can't leave her all +alone down there." And Bess danced gaily away to join the boys, her last +trouble gone and nothing but joy ahead. + + + +***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE RIVAL CAMPERS ASHORE*** + + +******* This file should be named 28504.txt or 28504.zip ******* + + +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: +https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/2/8/5/0/28504 + + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, +set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to +copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to +protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. 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