LIZ ON THE DEFENSIVE
The professor had spoken with such authority that Sheriff Larkin hesitated in his intention of landing the bloodhounds. Besides, having learned that one of these girls was a daughter of a member of the powerful lumber company, he feared to make a misstep.
The Rocky River Lumber Company could make or break a sheriff easily enough. The political power of the men owning the corporation in Monadnock County was supreme.
“Well, I tell ye what it is, ladies,” he said, pulling off his broad brimmed hat to wipe a perspiring, red brow. “I gotter do my duty––”
“With the prospect of five hundred dollars ahead of you!” interposed Bobby, pertly.
“That ain’t neither here nor there,” declared the man. “I got to search the island.”
“You know best what you must do, sir,” said Mrs. Morse, coldly. “But I beg of you to leave your dogs on the boat. I am afraid of the brutes.” 197
“And don’t come to our camp, I pray, looking for any criminal,” said Laura, speaking for the first time.
“Why! I guess not, Ma’am!” cried the sheriff. “Come on, boys. Leave them dawgs tied yere. And we’ll go over the island. It’s purty open timber this end, so he ain’t likely to be near here.”
They had moored the barge. Barnacle had barked himself hoarse. When the sheriff and four of his companions leaped ashore, he put his tail between his legs and scuttled up the hillside again.
At the top he suddenly began to bark once more. He did not face down hill, but seemed distraught about something, or somebody, in the camp.
“Hey!” exclaimed the ugly farmer whom Laura had taken a dislike to the previous day. “That dawg sees something.”
“He is crazy,” spoke up Laura, quickly. “He is like enough barking at our maid.”
“Sure!” rejoined Bobby. “Liz is up there.”
“Come on!” exclaimed the sheriff to his men, and started westward, in the direction Professor Dimp had taken.
“Whom do you suppose the Barnacle is really barking at?” whispered Jess to Laura Belding. “He’d never make all that ‘catouse’ over Liz. In fact, he wouldn’t bark at her at all.” 198
“Hush!” warned Laura, as the party started up the slope toward the camp.
Jess looked at her curiously. Barnacle was still barking with desperate determination. Liz appeared before the Central High girls climbed to the top of the hillock, and catching the dog by the collar, dragged him over to the corner of the log cabin and snapped on his chain.
“There!” Laura heard her say. “Ye kin bark your head off—but ye can’t run.”
The girl went back to her cook-tent and began clearing up the breakfast things again. Laura noted that she seemed to have done nothing while they were down on the shore.
But that was not surprising; perhaps she had crept near to overhear the talk with the sheriff. Now Liz said nothing to any of them, and went grimly on with her work.
“It’s my turn to help you get dinner, Lizzie,” Laura said, quietly. “What are we going to have? Shall I begin by peeling the potatoes?”
“No. Don’t want yer,” said Liz, shortly.
“Why! of course you want some help––”
“Don’t neither!” snapped the maid-of-all-work.
“Why, Lizzie!” said Laura, in surprise—at least, in apparent surprise! “You surely don’t want to do all the work yourself?” 199
“I’d ruther,” responded the girl, ungraciously. “You gals are in my way in the tent.”
Now this, of course, was ridiculous. It could mean but one thing: Liz was anxious to be alone in the cook-tent. And why?
Laura, however, merely said:
“Oh! very well. If you prefer not to be helped, Lizzie, that is all right.”
And she walked away; but she did not lose sight of the cook-tent. There was somebody there beside the maid-of-all-work, and Laura was sure she knew who.
Lil was inclined to feel abused. She thought that she should have been taken into the secret at the first.
“But see how you would have kicked,” said the slangy Bobby. “Why! you’d have wanted to go back home by the first boat.”
“I don’t think we ought to have stayed here with that man on the island,” grumbled Lil.
“With the old professor tagging after him?” chuckled Jess. “My goodness! can there be anything more respectable than Old Dimple?”
“If he is, why is he mixed up with this bank thief?” asked Lil, bluntly.
“I don’t believe the young man is any such thing,” announced Laura, hearing this. “He 200 doesn’t look bad. And surely we can trust to the professor’s judgment.”
“And we ought to help Professor Dimp,” said Nell. “Poor old man! I am sorry for him.”
“Say! Old Dimple’s a good sort,” declared Bobby, enthusiastically. “And he certainly stood up to that red-faced sheriff this morning—Oh, gee!” finished the tomboy, with a gasp. “Here he is now.”
“Here’s who?” squealed Lil, whirling around.
“Professor Dimp?” demanded Nell.
But it was the sheriff.
“’Scuse me, young ladies,” he wheezed. “But I feel it my duty to s’arch this yere camp. If you ain’t a-hidin’ of that thar feller, ye won’t mind my pokin’ around a bit, will yer?”
Laura did not say a word. She stood up and looked over at Liz Bean. For a moment the maid-of-all-work seemed petrified.
Then she dove for the growling Barnacle. She untied the rope with which he was fastened.
“Hello!” exclaimed the puffing sheriff. “What’s that for?”
Liz held the Barnacle with difficulty; the dog bared his teeth at the sheriff and uttered a series of most blood-curdling growls.
“You come botherin’ around here,” said Liz, desperately, “an’ I’ll let him fly at ye!”