“Don’s got another shantee over there on the point, and I shouldn’t be sorry to see that go up in smoke like the old one did,” a man of the Godfrey Evans stamp said to Lester one day. “’Tain’t no use to him and Bert, and by building it there they have taken the bread out of the mouths of a good many folks who live about here. As soon as school is out they’ll come home, get a party of their friends together, and kick up such a rumpus there on the lake that all the birds will be driven out of the country; and when a poor man gets out of bacon he can’t have a duck or goose for dinner, for there won’t be any for him to shoot.”
Every time Lester Brigham rode away from the landing—he very soon fell into the habit of going there as regularly as Godfrey and Dan did—he carried with him the impression that the Gordons were not held in very high esteem, and that he and Bob Owens had the sympathy of all the best people in the settlement. Encouraged by this belief, he began making efforts to work his way into the good graces of the Packard boys, but he failed utterly. Fred and Joe were warm friends of the Gordons, and they met his advances in so freezing a manner that Lester was highly enraged, and straightway set his wits at work to conjure up some plan for getting even with them. He wished for Bob Owens more than he had ever wished for him before (if Bob had been there he would not have joined him in any plan for mischief or revenge, for he was not that kind of a boy now); but as the only friend he had ever had since he had been in the settlement was many miles away, and Lester could no longer bear to live alone, he was forced to look for another associate—one who had plenty of time at his disposal, and who would accompany him on all his hunting and fishing excursions. He found him at last in the person of Dan Evans, who lost no time in turning their intimacy to account.
Lester, as we know, was provided with all the implements that any sportsman could possibly find use for, but he was a very poor shot, and he knew nothing whatever about hunting. He had, however, a larger amount of pocket money than he could spend in Rochdale, and whenever Dan Evans made a good bag, Lester would select from it such birds or animals as he fancied, pay the cash for them, and carry them home to show as trophies of his own skill. Of course Dan was not just such a companion as he would like to have had, but he was better than no friend at all, and in his presence Lester could brag to his heart’s content. No matter how unreasonable the story he told, Dan never disputed it or even looked incredulous. He was much too cunning for that.
“If I had the money that your brother brought my father last night, I wouldn’t be here to-morrow at this time,” Lester said to Dan one day. He had of late grown very tired of life in Mississippi, and was almost constantly urging his father to let him go somewhere, he didn’t much care where, so long as he could find ample opportunity for recreation, and would not be required to work or study. Mr. Brigham had threatened to send him away to school if he did not leave off bothering him, and Lester was so very much afraid he would carry his threat into execution, that he began to think seriously of leaving home as his friend, Bob Owens, had done. The only thing that stood in his way was the want of money. “When the mail was distributed last night my father got a letter with five thousand dollars in it,” continued Lester. “He gets that much on the fifteenth day of every month from his agent who is selling off our property in the North.”
Dan opened his eyes in great surprise. Five thousand dollars was not so large an amount as he and his father had hoped to make by digging up the barrel of gold and silver that was supposed to be buried in General Gordon’s potato-patch, but still it was a lot of money—a much greater sum than Dan ever expected to earn by honest labor.
“I don’t want you to say anything about it,” continued Lester, “for it is my opinion that there are a good many men about here who would not be any too good to waylay Dave and rob him if they knew that he was entrusted with the care of so much money.”
Dan protested that he wouldn’t think of such a thing; but still the information he had received seemed to make an impression upon him, for he became very silent and thoughtful after that, and Lester could hardly get a word out of him. He seemed to have suddenly lost all interest in hunting, for he missed several fair shots, and finally declaring that he did not feel in the humor for sport, he abruptly abandoned his companion, leaving him to continue the hunt alone or to go home, just as he pleased. An idea had suggested itself to Dan, and he wanted to get off by himself so that he could turn it over in his mind and see what he could make of it.
“Five thousand dollars,” said Dan to himself, as he hurried through the woods. “That’s a right smart chance of money, the first thing you know. And to think that our leetle Dave should have the handlin’ of it! Dave makes stacks of greenbacks by ridin’ around the country doin’ nothin’, he wears good clothes all the time, and here’s me—Dog-gone my buttons, I’ve got just as good a right to have five thousand dollars as Mr. Brigham has. I wish I was mail-carrier. I wouldn’t ask to go more’n one trip, an’ after that nobody in this country wouldn’t ever set eyes onto me again.”
Dan seemed to know where he was going and what he intended to do when he got there, for he kept straight ahead without once slackening his pace, paying no heed to the squirrels which barked at him as he hurried along, and making his way around the foot of Diamond lake, he finally reached the levee that ran along the bank of the river. Here he found a dilapidated house-boat which had been tied up to the bank for a month or more—long enough, at any rate, for Dan to become very well acquainted with the men who owned it. He had met them while hunting in the woods, had showed them the best places to set their traps for minks and ’coons, had taken part with them in shooting-matches at the landing, and had given them information which rendered it comparatively easy for them to forage upon the hen-roosts and smoke-houses of the planters who lived in the neighborhood. They had drawn a good many secrets from the boy—one especially that they intended to use for their own benefit as soon as the opportunity was presented.
Dan walked up the plank that ran from the shore to the bow of the house-boat, and entered the cabin without ceremony. It was as dismal a hole as he had ever looked into, and Dan, accustomed as he was to gloomy surroundings, wondered how anybody could live there. It contained but one apartment, and that was used as a kitchen, sitting-room, dining-room and bed-room. The men were lounging in their bunks, while their wives were gathered about the rusty stove puffing vigorously at their well-blackened cob-pipes. When the boat careened under Dan’s weight, one of the men sprang from his bunk and made an effort to conceal a couple of chickens he had just been picking; but as soon as he saw who the visitor was, he laid them down again, for he knew he had nothing to fear.