So saying Jake disappeared in the bushes, taking the valises with him. He was gone half an hour, and when he returned he proceeded to fold me up and tie me together with a piece of rope. This done he found a hiding-place for me under a pile of brush about twenty feet from the spot where the lean-to stood before it was burned, and, after covering me up as well as he could in the dark, glided away with noiseless footsteps. It was a long time before I saw him again, but he had not been gone more than five minutes when I heard a slight rustling among the leaves and a snapping of twigs as if some one was walking cautiously over them. Then I knew I was not alone in the woods. Who my invisible companion was I could not tell for certain, but I believed it was the occupant of the skiff that had followed us from the outlet. He revealed his identity when he came near my place of concealment, for I recognized his voice. It was Matt Coyle. He had kept Jake in sight until he saw him paddle into the creek, and then he landed and took to the woods. Something told him where the boy was going with the money he had fished out of the lake, and by going afoot and taking a short cut he gained on Jake so much that he arrived in the vicinity of his old camp at least ten minutes ahead of him. But he could not see where the valises had been hidden—the woods were too dark for that—and now he was trying his best to find them, as I learned from his soliloquy.
“He’s a pretty smart boy, Jakey is, but not smart enough to fool his pap,” I heard him say. “The ondutiful scamp! I had oughter wear a hickory out on him the minute I get home; but here’s the diffikilty; if I do that he’ll tell Rube where them fine guns is hid, an’ the minute they are give up to their owners then Rube’11 turn squar’ around an’ have me took up for the sake of gettin’ the reward. See? If I can find the money all unbeknownst to Jakey, an’ take it off an’ hide it somewhere else, so’t I can find it every time I want to use a dollar or two, then Jakey’11 think that the constables have stumbled on it, an’ he won’t never say a word; but if I try to force him to give it up there’ll be a furse, sure. He’s like his pap, Jakey is. It won’t do to crowd him too fur. Mebbe it’s in yer.”
Matt bent over my hiding-place and thrust his hand into the pile of brush. He felt all over and around me, and uttered many an exclamation of anger and disgust when he found that the valises were not there with me. He spent the whole of the night in tramping about the woods in my neighborhood, and how he missed the objects of his search I don’t know to this day. He rested a little while before daylight—at least I thought he did, for the sound of his footsteps ceased for an hour or two—but as soon as he could see where he was going he was up and at it again; but this time he was interrupted. Deeply interested as he was in his search, he did not neglect to keep his eyes and ears open, and consequently he did not fail to hear the threatening sounds that came to him on the morning breeze. I heard them a few minutes afterward, and would have shouted with delight if I had possessed the power. Mr. Swan and his party were approaching. Although I could not see them I was certain of it, for I had been in the guide’s company so often that I could have recognized his voice among a thousand. Presently they came close to my hiding-place and I heard one of the party say—
“Here’s where Matt’s lean-to stood. We came pretty near catching the sly old coon that day, but he must have had some member of his family on the watch. We found the fire burning and the dinner under way, but Matt was nowhere to be seen.”
“They have been back here since then, and within a few hours, too,” said Mr. Swan. “See how the leaves are kicked up. Let’s look around, boys, and perhaps we shall find something.”
I was delighted to hear this order. The “boys” began to look about at once, and one of them followed Matt’s trail straight to my place of concealment. The constable who accompanied him kicked the pile of brush to pieces, caught hold of the rope with which I was bound, and dragged me into view. The first words he spoke seemed to indicate that he had never seen any thing like me before.
“What in the name of common sense is this?” said he.
“That?” replied Mr. Swan, who stood close by. “Oh, that is Joe Wayring’s canvas canoe—an old thing that saw his best days years ago. But Joe thinks a heap of him and will be mighty glad to get him again. I haven’t got any thing to do just now, and so I will make it my business to take the canoe up to him. Joe is a good fellow, and I shall be glad to do that much for him.”
Thank goodness, I was in a fair way to see Joe Wayring once more! I was as happy as I wanted to be after that. I hoped Mr. Swan would take me home at once, for I was impatient to see Fly-rod and the long bows and the toboggan and all the rest of my friends in Mount Airy. I looked around at the members of the squad and saw many familiar faces among them. In fact, I had seen them all at one time or another, with the exception—could I believe my eyes? I looked again, and told myself that there could be no mistake about it. There were two strangers among them, and they were dressed in slouch hats and long dark coats. They were neither hand-cuffed nor bound, but they were closely watched by two armed officers who took no part in beating the bushes. They were the bank robbers—the very men I had tumbled out into the lake. If I had had the slightest doubt of their identity it would have been dispelled when the deputy sheriff said—“Now, boys, we’ve got some evidence. Who can stretch this canvas canoe?”
Mr. Swan replied that he could, and he did. Under his skillful hands I quickly assumed my usual symmetrical proportions; but before he was through with me one of the robbers called out—