“Well, the sheriff summoned a posse, caught the robbers after a short chase, and they told him that the boy they hired to ferry them over the lake, and who was robbing a cellar when they first spoke to him, capsized them on purpose and spilled the money out into the water. You see Jake caught a glimpse of the money when one of the robbers opened his valise to pay him the five dollars he demanded for ferrying them over, and made up his mind to have it for his own.”
“I had no idea Jake Coyle was smart enough to do a thing like that,” said Tom, who could scarcely credit his ears. “Do you believe the story?”
“Why, the guides tell me that the whole family are sharper than steel traps. Of course I believe the story. On the way home the sheriff ran upon a canvas canoe that Matt stole from Joe Wayring up in Sherwin’s Pond, and the robbers recognized it the minute it was put together as the one in which they had started to cross the lake. When the sheriff heard this he knew at once that the ferryman was Jake Coyle, and nobody else, for he is the one who steals all the grub for the family. When they came here to be set across the outlet they surrounded Rube’s house with the intention of arresting Jake, but he and the rest had been warned, as I told you, and could not be found. After that the sheriff took one of the robbers up the lake to point out the snag on which Jake capsized the canvas canoe, but the money wasn’t there.”
“Have you any idea what had become of it?”
“I haven’t the least doubt that Jake went up there night before last, dived for the valises and took them off in the woods and hid them. That is what the sheriff thinks, and it is the plan he is working on.”
“I am glad I went to the hatchery this morning,” thought Tom, as he pulled slowly toward camp after thanking the accommodating official for the pains he had taken to teach him something. “I have had a good time, and I have heard one or two things that may be of use to me.”
CHAPTER X.
MORE TROUBLE FOR TOM BIGDEN.
While on his way from his camp to the hatchery Tom Bigden had kept as close to the beach as the depth of the water would permit, looking everywhere for Matt Coyle, but without seeing any thing of him. Better luck, however, awaited him on his return, for when he came opposite to a lonely part of the beach, near the spot on which their former interview was held, he saw the squatter step cautiously out the bushes and beckon to him. No doubt the man was surprised at the readiness with which Tom brought his canoe around and headed it for the shore.
“Say,” exclaimed Matt, when Tom had come within speaking distance. “I’m powerful glad to see you, ’cause I want to let you know that I can’t wait no ten days for them fifty dollars. I must have it to onct.”
“What’s your hurry?” asked Tom. He did not exhibit any signs of anger, although the man was even more peremptory and domineering than he had been before. Tom knew that the squatter’s triumph would be of short duration, and he could afford to let him be as insolent as he pleased.