Jake had always refused to permit his brother to accompany him on his numerous foraging expeditions, and Matt had never thought any thing of it until this particular night; but now his refusal made him distrust Jake. He believed that the boy had private reasons for wishing to go on his dangerous errand alone, and told himself that it might be a good plan to follow him and see where he went and what he did while he was gone. So when Jake, after eating his share of the bacon and potatoes, hauled me out of the corner and left the cabin without saying a word to any body his father got upon his feet, paused long enough to fill his pipe, and also went out into the darkness. He did not follow Jake very far, however, because his inherent laziness proved stronger than his lack of confidence in the boy, and, besides, the latter did not do any thing out of the way. He held straight for Deer Lake outlet, but instead of following the trail he struck off through the woods, avoiding the hatchery and the watchman who kept guard over it. Then Matt turned about and went back to the shanty, while Jake launched the canvas canoe and boldly set out on his dangerous mission. I have often wondered at the nerve the young reprobate displayed in going off alone on these midnight plundering expeditions. He seemed to think no more of it than you would of going fishing. On this particular night Jake was not lonesome, for he had some very agreeable thoughts for company; and as he communed aloud with them I learned, somewhat to my surprise, that he had hopes and aspirations as well as some other boys of my acquaintance.
“I tell you I have lived this way about long enough,” soliloquized Jake, as he headed me across the outlet and paddled slowly along close to the shore and in the shadow of the overhanging trees. “If I’m ever goin’ to be any body an’ make any money, now’s my time to begin. So long as I stay with pap, jest so long will I be hounded an’ drove about from pillar to post by them guides an’ landlords, who won’t let me stay nowhere. I jest know that pap’s goin’ to see trouble all along of them guns that he’s got hid in the bresh, but I can’t see why I should be ’rested too. I didn’t hook the guns, an’ that’s what made me talk to Rube the way I did. If he will go halvers with me on the reward, I’ll get fifty dollars, an’ that will be enough so’t I can start out on my own hook. If Rube wants to earn the extra hundred by havin’ pap ’rested arterwards—why, that’s something I can’t help. I’ve got a good boat, one that I can tote anywhere through the woods, an’ what’s to hender me from strikin’ out fur myself this winter? I know where to go to find good trappin’ grounds, an’ I’ll bet that when spring comes I’ll have more money than I will if I stay hangin’ round here with pap. I ain’t goin’ to be shut up in jail for something I didn’t do, an’ that’s all there is about that.”
Jake continued to talk to himself in this way during the whole of the hour and a half that it took him to paddle from the mouth of the outlet to the landing in front of the first house above the hatchery. I could not see that there was any dwelling there, for the night was pitch dark; but Jake knew where he was, and I learned from some snatches of his soliloquy which I overheard that the guide to whom the premises belonged was a thrifty man and a good provider for his family. If he could only get into his smokehouse or effect an entrance into his cellar, Jake was sure that he could load his canoe without the least trouble. As the guide was neither a “cruster” nor a “skin-butcher,” he did not keep dogs, but he had a stalwart son who took care of the little farm during his father’s absence, and Jake knew that he would see fun if that boy heard him prowling around.
Jake did not make the painter fast to any thing, for he did not want to lose time in casting it off in case he were called upon to make a hasty retreat. He simply drew me part way out of the water, so that I would not float off with the current, and after that threw a couple of bags over his shoulder and disappeared in the bushes. Then began that series of incidents to which I referred a little while ago, and which not only brought about an open rupture in Matt Coyle’s family, but broke it up as completely as the guides and landlords could have wished. I heard all about them before I was stowed away in Joe Wayring’s bedroom to await the coming of the next boating season, and consequently I am able to describe them to you in the order in which they occurred.
Jake’s first care, when he reached the clearing, was to give the house a good looking over in order to make sure that all the inmates had gone to bed. He could not see a light in any of the windows, and neither could he hear any one moving about on the inside. He did not look for enemies outside the house, and consequently he did not see the two dark figures that sprang quickly behind a corner of the cellar the moment he came into view. But the figures were there, and they saw every thing Jake did.
Having satisfied himself that the family had all retired, Jake made his way to the cellar, which was not built under the house, but fifty yards in the rear of it. It was a square hole in the ground, walled up with logs instead of stone, and covered with a peaked roof to shed the rain. Four steps led down to the door, which Jake found to be fastened with a padlock. But he expected to find it so, and had come prepared for it. He drew from one of the bags a long iron strap, like those that sometimes are used for hanging heavy doors, thrust one end of it under the hasp and, with a sudden jerk, pulled out the nearest staple. This being done, the door swung open of its own accord, and Jake went into the cellar.
Not a single ray of light came in at the door, and Jake, having neglected to bring with him a supply of matches, was obliged to grope about in the dark. He wasn’t searching for any thing in particular. He did not care what he found, so long as it was something that was good to eat, and with such articles the cellar appeared to be abundantly stocked. He found a generous piece of bacon, half a bushel of potatoes, as many turnips, a small crock of butter, and several jars of pickles, all of which he bundled into his bag without the least regard for order or neatness. His sole duty was to forage for provisions; it was no concern of his how the things looked when he got them home.
“I reckon I’ve got about all I can tote down to the boat at one load, an’ so I’ll quit,” said Jake, moving his hand along the hanging-shelf to make sure that he had found all the things that had been placed upon it. “If them folks of our’n want any more grub they can steal it theirselves, fur I am getting tired of the—Well, I do think in my soul. What’s that?”
As Jake shouldered his well-filled bags he turned toward the door, only to find it blocked by the two figures who had sought concealment behind the cellar. They had come down the steps so cautiously that Jake did not know there was any one near him. Of course he was greatly alarmed, and visions of the New London penitentiary rose up before him; for Jake knew very well that nocturnal house-breaking, with the intent to commit a felony, constitutes burglary, and burglary is a State’s prison offense. The light was so dim that he could not see the features of the men who blocked the doorway and cut off his escape, but beyond a doubt one of them must be the son of the guide he had robbed.
“I couldn’t help it, Ike, sure’s I live an’ breathe I couldn’t help it”[it”] stammered Jake, as soon as he could speak. “We ain’t got a bite to eat in the shanty, an’ no way to earn any, seein’ that the folks about here won’t let us be guides and make an honest livin’, like we want to do. I’ll give up every thing I’ve got into the bags if—”