“Jake’s gone off about his business, and if the old woman ain’t left camp she’s there yet,” growled the squatter, in reply to the ferryman’s eager questions. “I’ve got some things to tend to that I forgot about, an’ that’s why I come back. No; we won’t go into your house an’ get breakfast, but you can give us a bite to eat as we go along if you’re a mind to.”
“Did you—you didn’t see any body lookin’ for you, I reckon?” said the ferryman at a venture. “Well, that’s queer. I’ve heard that there’s as many as a dozen or fifteen constables an’ guides follerin’ of you an Jakey.”
“Which side the lake?” inquired Matt, anxiously.
“This side—the one you’re jest leavin’.”
This was something that was in Matt’s favor, but he little thought he had his friend the ferryman to thank for it. The latter had hung around the hatchery all the previous day, and made it his business to put every party of officers and guides who crossed the outlet on Matt’s trail, first stipulating for a small share of the reward in case the information he gave them led to the squatter’s arrest. But he had played squarely into Matt’s hands. The road that led to his camp was clear, and all he had to do was to keep a close watch upon Sam, who, for some reason or other, showed an almost uncontrollable desire to take to his heels. At last Matt became satisfied that that was just what the boy meant to do; and after they had left the hatchery out of sight, and were walking along the carry Indian file, munching the bread and meat the ferryman had given them, he came to the conclusion that it was time for him to put into operation the plan he had determined upon the day before. Suddenly thrusting what was left of his breakfast into his pocket, Matt took one long step forward and laid hold of Sam’s collar. As quick as thought the boy threw both arms behind him and jumped. His object was to leave his coat in his father’s grasp, and the only thing that prevented him from doing it was the fact that one of Matt’s long, muscular fingers had, by the merest accident, caught under the collar of Sam’s shirt. The collar stood the strain, Matt’s finger was too strong to be straightened out, and Sam was a prisoner.
“Aha!” said the squatter, looking into the boy’s astonished face with grim good-humor. “You didn’t look for your old pap to be so cute, did you? Didn’t I give you fair warnin’ that a man who had spent the best years of his life in dodgin’ guides an’ constables wasn’t to be beat by his own boys? You’ve been mighty cunnin’, you an’ Jakey have, but I’m to the top of the heap now. See it, don’t you?”
“What be you goin’ to do, pap?” inquired Sam, when he saw his sire put his disengaged hand into his pocket and draw forth the same stout cord that had once been used to confine Jake’s hands and feet. “I won’t run from you, an’ I’ll show you where it is, sure.”
“Where what is?” demanded the squatter, who wanted to be sure that he had got upon the right track at last.
“Where the valises is—the money.”
“There now, you little snipe!” cried Matt, drawing back his heavy hand as if he had half a mind to let it fall with fall force upon the boy’s unprotected face. “Oughtn’t I to lick ye for makin’ me tramp twenty-four miles on a wild goose chase after that money, when you knowed where it was all the while? Dog-gone it! I’ve a good notion—”