“An’ I’ll pay him for—for—bein’ so mean to all of us,” said Sam.
He came near betraying himself that time. What he was about to say was that he would pay Joe Wayring for stealing the money.
“You can do jest what you please with him, an’ I won’t say a word agin it,” answered the squatter. “The way them rich folks has always run over us ain’t to be put up with no longer.”
Pursuers and pursued slept soundly within three miles of one another that night, but the morning’s sun found them all astir. While Joe and his companions were working like beavers on their bark shanty, Matt Coyle was wasting his time in searching for the portage that led from Indian Lake to No-Man’s Pond. He passed the best part of the day in recovering his bearings, and the afternoon was far spent when Jake laid his hand on his arm and pointed silently through the bushes ahead of him. Matt looked, and saw the smoke of a camp-fire curling up toward the tree-tops. He listened, but no sound came to his ears to indicate that the camp was occupied. Arthur and Roy had gone in the canvas canoe to explore the spring-hole and Joe was resting after his work, thinking the while of almost every thing and every body except Matt Coyle.
“I don’t reckon he’s there, pap,” said Jake in a cautious whisper.
“He’s there or thereabouts,” was Matt’s reply. “Mebbe he’s went out on the pond to ketch some trout for his supper. If he has, we’ll be in time to help him eat ’em, won’t we? Jakey, you crawl up, careful like, an’ take a peep at things. Me an’ Sam’ll stay here till you come back.”
Matt never went into danger himself if he could help it, but always sent Jake; and the boy had become so accustomed to it that he obeyed this order without the least hesitation. He crept away on his hands and knees, and at the end of a quarter of an hour returned with a most gratifying report.
“Joe’s there, an’ he’s all alone,” whispered Jake. “He’s layin’ under a tree an’ acts like he’s asleep.”
“So much the better for us,” replied Matt, gleefully rubbing his hands together. “That money is our’n. Now, Jakey, you go that-a-way; Sam, you go this way; an’ I’ll keep in the middle. In that way we shall have him surrounded an’ he can’t give us the slip. When you hear me whistle like a quail, jump up an’ grab him.”
“But, pap, he’s got a gun,” said Jake, apprehensively. “I seen it layin’ on the ground clost to him.”