The Mystery of the Locks

by E. W. Howe

In the emergency Silas did what he had done a hundred times in other emergencies—he said that something should be done, and folded his hands.

"Ain't I trying to do something?" his companion answered testily. "Haven't I tried my best to shoot him? What more can I do? But he has only been here seven times. Here is the record."

He handed the gun over to Silas, who saw for the first time that there were seven notches cut in the stock, the particularly long one representing the time that Tug had shot at the shadow, and missed.

The men had talked of warning Dorris a great many times before, but Tug had always argued that it was unnecessary; that it would only render him nervous and suspicious, whereas he was now contented, and very useful to the townspeople and his young wife. Silas had always been in favor of putting his friend on his guard against an enemy who seemed to come and go with the night, but Tug had stubbornly held out against it, and perhaps this was the reason he guarded The Locks so faithfully. Sometimes he would only hear a noise in the underbrush; at other times he saw a crouching figure, but before deciding to fire at it, it would disappear, but there was always something to convince him that his old enemy was still occasionally lurking about the town. A few times he had seen him openly, as has been narrated, but there was always something in the way of the accomplishment of the purpose nearest his heart; the only purpose of his life. He did not know himself why he had taken such an interest in Dorris, nor had he ever attempted to explain it to Silas, but he admired the man, and the only ambition he had ever acknowledged was connected with the safety of the person he admired, according to his own confession, next to Rum and Devilishness, for not even Davy out-ranked the owner of The Locks in Tug's callous heart. And Dorris himself was not more pleased when his wife was praised than was the rusty old lawyer, and at her suggestion he had worked whenever he could get it to do during the winter which had just passed; at copying, drawing legal papers, and at keeping books, for he was competent at any of these occupations. It is probable that had she asked him to go to work as a day laborer he would have consented, for she was kind to him in a great many ways, and often invited him to visit The Locks, when he appeared looking very much like a scarecrow, the result of his attempts at fixing up, and using his great eye, after arriving, to look around for refreshments, for he was always hungry. Being a noted character, when it became known that he had "reformed," and that he was patronized by the Dorrises, a great many others took pains to patronize him, and give him work of the kind he was willing to do, for he was still very particular in this respect. When at The Locks, if he threatened to drink too much, Mrs. Dorris took his glass and kept it, although her husband was usually in favor of "turning him on," as Tug expressed it, for he was very amusing when a little tipsy, and kept them in continued laughter by his dignified oddity.

"I will tell him to-day," Tug said, taking the gun into his own hands again. "He must not go into the bottoms unless accompanied by a party, and as he hasn't been over yet, he may take it into his head to go to-day. I will tell him in an hour; he won't be up before that time."

"Do you know, Tug," Silas said, "what I think of you?"

"Well, out with it. Let's have it."

"I think you are a better man than you pretend."

"It's a lie!" his companion replied fiercely, hitting the table a hard blow with his clenched fist. "It's a lie!"

"I have often thought it was very much to your credit that you took such an interest in a hunted man," Davy said, "who is shadowed by a cowardly enemy, but perhaps I am mistaken—I usually am; it's not important."