Joe and his companions were quite willing to act upon this suggestion, but they were in no hurry to go to sleep. Neither was Mr. Swan. They sat around the fire for a long time, talking over the incidents of their battle in the dark, and as I listened closely, I have been able to give you the story in the same way that it was told to Mr. Swan. The squatter’s extraordinary luck and the skill he exhibited in eluding arrest seemed to astonish them all. How I longed for the power of speech so that I could tell them that robbing camps and smoke-houses was not the only business to which Matt Coyle intended to devote himself, now that the offer of his service as guide and boatman had been declined by the managers of the Indian Lake hotels. But they found it out for themselves, and before long, too.
It was three o’clock before the campers again sought their blankets. The boys slept much later than usual, but the guide was stirring at the first peep of day. He piled fresh fuel on the fire, put Roy’s potatoes into the ashes to roast, made the coffee and pancakes, and took time while the fish were frying to give the skiff another good looking over. Then he picked up Joe’s camp ax, and disappeared among the trees, returning a few minutes later with several large slabs of birch bark. By this time the fish were done, and the guide announced the fact by calling out—
“Tumble up, you sleepy heads. You’ve just two seconds in which to take a dip in the pond and get ready for breakfast.”
Having had as many “dips” as they wanted already, the boys contented themselves with washing their hands and faces; after which they sat down to their homely breakfast with appetites to which the dwellers in towns and cities are, for the most part, strangers. Of course the squatter was still uppermost in their minds, and he and his exploits formed the principal topic of their conversation.
“By the way, Mr. Swan, you forgot to tell us what Matt stole at those camps,” said Arthur, suddenly.
“Did I? Well, in my camp he took a Lefever hammerless that cost the owner three hundred dollars; and from a gentleman who had Bob Martin for a guide, he stole a Winchester worth fifty dollars. Not satisfied with that, he took every thing in the shape of grub that he could lay his hands on, and me and my employer had to live on trout while we were making a journey of more than a hundred and fifty miles. Trout’s good enough once in a while; but I swan to man, if I want it for a steady diet. Bob Martin said he eat so much of that kind of food that he wanted to snap at every fly that came near him.”
“Matt and his family are always on the look-out for grub, and I should think that the sharp edge would be taken off their appetites after a while,” Arthur remarked. “Did you try to follow his trail?”
“Bless you, no. There ain’t a country in Ameriky that is so well provided with water courses as this Indian Lake country is, and what’s the use of trying to follow the trail of a boat? You might as well think of tracking a bird through the air.”
“What do you suppose Matt intends to do with those guns?” inquired Roy. “Of course he wouldn’t be so foolish as to offer them for sale around here, and they certainly will be of no use to him unless he took a big supply of cartridges at the same time he took the weapons.”
“I’ve got my own idea about that,” replied the guide. “It’s only an idea, mind you, but I have good reason for holding to it. A year ago last spring, Matt got to acting just as he’s acting now, because the hotels wouldn’t send him out with their guests, and me and the rest of the guides tracked him down, and told him that he’d got to clear himself. He allowed he wouldn’t do it, and that he’d make it hot for the fellers that tried to make him go, so we went to work and burned up everything he had, except his clothes and we’pons. Then he had to dig out; but before he went, he sent us word that if he couldn’t do guiding for the hotels none of us should, for the reason that there wouldn’t be nobody to hire us.”