“An’ what’ll I do?” inquired the old woman.
“You? Oh, you ain’t done nothin’ that the law can tech you for, an’ you had better hang around Rube’s an’ get your grub of him. You can pay him for it by slickin’ up his house an’ washin’ dishes for him, you know.”
“What’s the reason I can’t have some of the six thousand to pay him with?”
“Now listen at you!” vociferated Matt. “Don’t you know that if you should offer him money he would know in a minute that you had seen the six thousand an’ have you took up for it? I tell you, ole woman,” added the squatter, who was resolved to hold fast to every dollar of his ill-gotten gains as long as he could, “my way is the best; an’ if you ain’t willin’ to it, you can jest look out for yourself. Now I’m off. I’ll be back directly the thing has kinder died down, like I told you, an’ then we’ll put out for some place where we can spend our money an’ live like folks. Jakey an’ Sam’ll be back in a day or two, to-night, mebbe, an’ they’ll look out for you.”
The old woman did not say anything more, for she knew that it would be useless. She lazily smoked her pipe while Matt fastened the valises together and slung them over his shoulder as he would a knapsack, said “so-long” in a drawling, indifferent tone, and saw him disappear in the bushes.
“For the first time in my life I feel like I was a free man,” soliloquized the squatter, as he lumbered away through the woods. “I ain’t a-goin’ to be bothered any more wonderin’ where Jakey is to get a new pair of shoes ag’in snow comes, or how I’m to wiggle an’ twist to find Sam a new coat, or ask myself whether or not the old woman’s got bacon an’ taters enough for breakfast. Rube’ll take care of her, ’cause he’ll suspicion right away that I’ve got the money an’ that I’ll be sure to come back to her some day. I’ll take care of myself; an’ as for the boys—I won’t think two times about them ongrateful scamps. They tried their best to cheat me outen my shar’ of this money, an’ now I’ll see how much they’ll get.”
The squatter continued to talk to himself in this style during the three hours he consumed in reaching the “old perch hole” at the mouth of the creek, which must be crossed in some way before Matt could fairly begin his journey to Sherwin’s Pond. What he was going to do or how he was going to live after he got there, seeing that there were no farmers in the immediate neighborhood upon whom he could forage, Matt had not yet decided; but when he found his progress stopped by the creek he told himself that he might as well rest a bit and smoke a pipe or two while he thought about it. He hunted up a log and seated himself upon it, but almost instantly jumped to his feet and dived into the bushes. It was at that very moment that our party came into the creek. By “our party” I mean Joe Wayring, Arthur Hastings, and Roy Sheldon in the skiff, and Mr. Swan, whose canoe was towing behind. As I have before stated, I occupied my usual place on the skiff’s stern locker, where I could see every thing that went on and hear all that was said. On this occasion I saw more than any one else did. I had a fair view of the valises on Matt’s back as they were disappearing in the thicket, but I can’t imagine how they escaped the observation of the sharp-eyed guide who sat facing the direction in which the boats were moving. I afterward learned that Matt heard Mr. Swan’s voice when he cautioned the boys to speak in a low tone, and be careful how they allowed their oars to rattle in the rowlocks, and I know that when he cast off from the skiff and led the way up the creak the squatter stole silently through the woods and kept pace with him.
“That was a close shave, wasn’t it?” chuckled Matt, peeping through the leaves to mark the position of the boats in the creek and then dodging back again. “A little more an’ they’d have ketched me, wouldn’t they? Now, what did they come in here for, an’ where be they goin’, do you reckon? I’d most be willin’ to say that I’d give a hundred dollars of this money if I had one of them boats of their’n. Then I could go all the way to the pond without walkin’ a step. I’ll jest toddle along with ’em an’ see what they’re up to; an’ if they leave them boats alone for a minute they won’t find ’em ag’in in a hurry.”
The boats moved so slowly and the creek was so crooked that the squatter had no difficulty in keeping up with us. Indeed, he often gained half a mile or more by running across the points while we went around them. I have already told you what Mr. Swan and the boys did when they reached the mouth of the little stream that led from the creek to the cove. They found the camp deserted, as I have recorded, the old woman having set out for Rube’s house very shortly after Matt left her alone; and when they came back to the creek, intending to go into camp there, they found their boats gone.
I thought all along that Matt was following us up the creek, for if I had not caught two distinct views of his evil face peering through the bushes I had certainly seen something that looked very much like it. All doubts on this point were dispelled from my mind before Joe Wayring and his companions had been gone five minutes. While they were moving through the evergreens to surround the camp, as the guide had directed, Matt Coyle came out and showed himself. The celerity with which that vagabond worked surprised me. He had made up his mind what he would do, and he did it without the loss of a second. He made the painter of Mr. Swan’s canoe fast to a ringbolt in the stern of the skiff and shoved it away from the bank. Then he pushed off the skiff, stepped in as soon as it was fairly afloat, and headed it down the stream, using one of the oars as a paddle. Presently the current took us in its grasp and hurried us along at such a rate that we were around the first point before I fairly comprehended the situation. This was the second time, to my knowledge, that the cunning squatter had executed a very neat flank movement upon Mr. Swan and his party. Matt must have thought of it, for I heard him say,