“We can talk about it while we go back to camp and bring another chisel, and an ax to enlarge the hole so that we can get the canoe out, and a rope to haul him up with,” said Arthur. “The sooner we get to work the sooner we may be able to settle some things. I think that with three of our largest and strongest fish-hooks fastened into him we can pull him up so that we can get hold of him.”
The others thought so too, and lost no time in putting the matter to a test. By their united efforts the hole was quickly enlarged to four times its original size, the ice was baled out, and in a few minutes more the campers were angling for a bigger prize than they thought. Not only three, but half a dozen hooks, two in the hands of each boy, were fastened somewhere, either in the sides of the canvas canoe or in the thick blankets that were tied to it, and by careful handling the whole was brought so near the surface of the water that Roy seized it and held it fast. Then with a “pull all together” and a “heave-yo!” the canvas canoe and its valuable cargo, which for four long, dreary months had lain at the bottom of the river, were hauled upon the ice.
“Now, let’s see what we’ve got,” said Joe, drawing his knife from his pocket. “Here’s Matt’s rifle to begin with.” As he spoke he cut the weapon loose and flung it behind him.
“And here’s my blanket,” said Arthur. “And as I shall never use it again I’ll just—”
Arthur made a vicious cut with his knife as he said this, and the result was so astounding that the boys were struck dumb and motionless. A small leather valise slipped out of the rent he made, and falling upon the ice with considerable force flew open, scattering a shower of money before their astonished gaze. Roy Sheldon, being the first to recover himself, danced about like a crazy boy; Arthur thrust his wet hands into his pockets and whistled softly to himself; and Joe leaned against the canoe and looked. Then he wheeled about, made the hole in the blanket larger, and found the other valise. While he was doing that he discovered and pointed out a gaping wound in my side which neither he nor his friends had noticed before.
“To my mind that explains every thing,” said Roy, bringing his wild war-dance to a close and acting more like his sensible self again. “Matt Coyle braved something that we were afraid to tackle, and got himself snagged and sunk by it. He tried to get into the pond and went to the bottom instead. You can see that he expected a capsize, for he’s got every thing tied fast.”
“Did Matt go to the bottom with the canoe?” inquired Joe.
“That depends upon whether or not he was a good swimmer,” answered Roy.
“I should say it depended more on whether or not the river was as ugly on the day he came along here as it was when we saw it,” replied Arthur. “If it was, the chances are that he was drowned; for not one swimmer in ten could get away from that current after it got a good grip on him. Now, let’s pick up the money, unload the canoe, and get him to the fire before he freezes stiff.”
“This is the second time our fishing has been broken up,” said Joe. “Well, the winter isn’t half over yet, and it will be easy enough for us to come back at some future time. But we’ll never catch another prize like this in Indian River.”