Mr. Swan was always ready. After he had taken a few pulls at his brier-root to make sure that it was well-started he began and told not one story, but a dozen or more. He kept his little audience interested until ten o’clock, then the lamp was turned out, the fire replenished, and the campers sought their beds of balsam-boughs. Lulled by the rippling of the waves upon the beach at their feet, and by the low music of the breeze as it toyed with the branches over their heads, their slumber was deep and dreamless. Even the usually watchful Jim seemed to think that there was no responsibility resting upon him for this particular night, and that the mere presence of the guide was all the protection the camp needed, for he too slept soundly, and snored while he slept. Consequently he did not see the uncouth object which drew out of the darkness that covered the surface of the pond, and slowly and cautiously approached the camp. The object was Matt Coyle’s scow, and in it were the squatter and both his boys. The latter were plying their paddles with noiseless motion, and Matt was kneeling in the bow, waving first one hand and then the other to show them what course to take.
It must have been long after midnight, for there was nothing left of the fire but a glowing bed of coals; but still there was light enough to enable the robber to see the outlines of the skiff, but not sufficient to show him the trim little canoe that had been hauled out on the bank and turned bottom side up. If he had seen that, he would have lost no time in getting away from so dangerous a neighborhood; but believing that the boys were alone, and that they had forgotten their usual caution in spite of the warning events of the afternoon, he kept on until he was close enough to the skiff to take hold of it. I saw the whole proceeding, but of course could do nothing to arouse the slumbering campers.
“Now, turn about on your seats and give way the best you know how,” I heard Matt whisper to his boys. “We must pull her off into deep water before them fellers can wake up an’ get a holt on her.”
“Say, pap,” whispered Jake, in reply. “Ain’t we goin’ ashore to give them a good larrupin’ before they make up?”
If the guide had not been there, these words would have horrified me; but as it was, I did not feel at all uneasy. I knew very well that Matt and his boys were no match for our party, and that they would all be captured as surely as they put their feet on shore; but I did not want to see them steal that skiff. Oh, why didn’t Jim wake up and alarm his master!
“We’ll ’tend to them after we get the skiff an’ all the nice grub an’ things that’s into it,” said the squatter, as he tightened his grasp. “Now be you all ready? Then give way.”
Jake and Sam laid out all their strength upon their paddles, and the bow of the skiff grated harshly as it moved over the sand. The noise, slight as it was, awoke Jim, who was on his feet in a twinkling. He took just one glance at the marauders, and then danced about the camp in a perfect ecstasy of rage, barking and yelping with all his might.
His first note of angry remonstrance alarmed the boys, who were off their fragrant couches in less time than it takes to tell it. The moment they arose to a perpendicular, they were wide awake and ready to act. They made a simultaneous rush for the beach, and while Arthur and Joe seized the skiff and pulled her back where she belonged, in spite of all that Jake and his brother could do to prevent it, Roy caught up the painter and deftly took a turn with it around a convenient sapling.
“Now, haul away and see how much you will make by it,” he exclaimed. “That’s once you got fooled.”
“Wal, I’ll bet a hoss that I ain’t fooled yet,” said the squatter, in savage tones. “Pull ashore, Jakey, an’ we’ll get out an’ lambast them fellers till their own mammies won’t know ’em when they go hum. Human natur!” he ejaculated a moment later, as the tall form of the guide came between him and the smoldering fire. “Who’s that? If it ain’t Swan, I’m a Dutchman.”