Mr. Lawrence had said to him, “Now, Will, seeing that Steve is preying on my valuables, you must make the best of it, and teach the idleheaded fellow a lesson. You may do whatever you please; but don’t let an explosion take place. The powder, I think, got damp the other day, and so it wouldn’t explode for some time—even if he should drop the box plump into the fire. In fact, unless he has succeeded in opening it, which is doubtful, he will probably put it into the fire. Let him do it; you can snatch it out again. If, on the other hand, he has forced the box open, both his trick and your trick will be spoiled. Perhaps that would be best. Now, Will, above all, do not frighten other people.”
It will be seen that Mr. Lawrence had guessed Steve’s intention. But he was wrong in permitting his son to meddle in the trick. The straightforward way would have been to tell Stephen what the box really held, and then he would have given it up directly.
No doubt, gentle reader, you are tired of these beggarly little “tricks.” But have patience a little longer, O reader, for when this last trick is finished, we shall wing our way along smoothly throughout the rest of the book without any tricks whatever.
When Will saw Stephen leave “Conservatory Isle” he thought himself at liberty to take his ease for awhile, and coolly taking possession of an unoccupied boat, rowed over to the shore.
While drifting along the shore, a spruce gentleman hailed him, and asked to be ferried across the river.
“Yes, sir,” said Will, placing the boat in a favorable position for the gentleman to enter it. He sprang in lightly, saying, “I’ve forgotten something over there: take me as fast as you can.”
In nervous haste to do his best, Will gave the boat a vigorous shove, and then looked his passenger full in the face. The latter also looked at Will. The recognition was mutual; for if Will recognized the peculiar features of the newspaper genius whom he had shot with poison in his youth, the newspaper genius likewise recognized the remarkably talented son of the lady who had been his hostess when he visited the neighborhood some years previously.
Letting his emotions get the better of his principles, the man uttered a cry of horror, mechanically rose to his feet, and fetched a random leap for the shore. But the motion that Will had communicated to the boat had placed it some distance from the shore, and the impetus of the leap adding to that distance, the leaper found himself in deep water, in the exact position the boat had occupied a moment before. Any boy at all acquainted with the navigation of boats, rafts, or anything floatable, can substantiate this.
Then the unfortunate man said something very wicked—too wicked, in fact, to be set down in a story like this. Then he struggled to reach the shore, but Will said, politely, “Don’t try to get ashore, sir, or you will get covered with mud. The best thing to do is to climb into the boat again; I’ll help you.”