“When a fellow like Matt Coyle can lay commands upon me and threaten me with punishment if I do not obey them—by gracious! Is it possible for me to get any lower down in the world? I wish I had never heard of that Joe Wayring. Every thing seems to go smoothly with him without an effort on his part, but, no matter how hard I try, every thing goes wrong with me. Did any body ever hear of such luck?”
Tom was angry now as well as frightened, and, what seemed strange to me when I heard of it, he blamed Joe Wayring, and not himself, for the troubles he had got into. He must have brought a very black face into camp with him, for when he ran the bow of his canoe upon the beach in front of the grove where Loren and Ralph were idling away the time in their hammocks the former called out:
“Hallo! who are you mad at now?”
“Everybody,” snarled Tom. “Say, Ralph, you remember that after our interview with the squatter, on the day the constable drove him out of Mount Airy, you declared that you wouldn’t have had it happen for any thing, don’t you?”
“I remember it perfectly,” replied Ralph. “I was afraid that trouble of some sort would grow out of it, and judging from the looks of your face my fears have been realized. What’s up?”
“That was the first interview I held with Matt Coyle, but I am sorry to say it wasn’t the last,” continued Tom.
“Have you seen him to-day?” exclaimed Loren.
“I have, and I tell you he’s got me in a box. But hold on a minute. I want to let you into a secret. It was I who put it into his head to steal Joe Wayring’s canvas canoe.”
“There,” said Ralph, shaking his finger at his brother. “What did I tell you?”
“That’s no secret at all,” answered Loren. “We were satisfied from the first that you knew all about it. You looked very surprised and innocent, and I know you were mad when you discovered that Matt had robbed you as well as the rest of us; but you didn’t play your part well enough to ward off all suspicion.”