“’Taint no ways likely that Joe would do a favor for you,” said Matt, in a discouraged tone, “’cause you an’ him don’t hitch.”
“I know we don’t like each other any too well, but I can say a word for you, all the same. I don’t know that I can do any good here, so I will go back to camp. I came down according to agreement, but I knew I shouldn’t make any thing by it. You held fast to those guns too long. They have been found, and your hundred dollars are up stump.”
“If you knowed it, why did you pester me that-a-way for?” demanded the squatter, growing angry again.
“Why did you tell me you had the guns hidden a little way back in the woods when you hadn’t?” asked Tom, in reply. “I saw through your game at once. Your object was to get me ashore and rob me. You would have committed a State’s prison offense; but I shall not say any thing about it unless you wag your tongue too freely about me. If you do that, look out for yourself.”
So saying, Tom turned his canoe about and started for camp, well satisfied with the result of his interview with the squatter. He had kept his temper in spite of strong provocation, and made Matt believe that he was in no way responsible for the loss of the guns. More than that, he had given him good honest advice, and kept up a show of friendship by making a promise he did not mean to fulfill.
“I’d like to see myself asking a favor of that Joe Wayring,” said he, with a sneer. “It would please him too well, and I wouldn’t do it under any circumstances. My object was to leave Matt in good humor, if I could. Of course he was mad because he did not get the money, but not as mad as he would have been if he had succeeded in getting hold of the canoe. If he had done that, I calculated to give him such a rap over the head with my paddle that he wouldn’t get over it for a month. I don’t think I shall have any more trouble with him this season. Next vacation I shall steer clear of Indian Lake, and take my outing somewhere else.”
Ralph Farnsworth and his brother were so very much concerned about Tom that they did not do any camp work after he went away. As soon as he was out of sight, they sat down on the bank close to the water’s edge, and there they remained for four long, anxious hours before Tom came around the point and showed himself to them. When he saw them waiting for him he took off his cap and waved it in triumph over his head.
“He was awful mad, and, after trying in vain to get me out on shore so that he could take my money away from me, he rushed into the water and made a grab at the canoe,” said Tom, as he ran the bow of his little craft upon the beach. “But, after all, I didn’t have as much of a time with him as I thought I should. There’s your purse, Ralph. Now, if one of you will dish up a good dinner, I think I can do justice to it. I haven’t had much appetite for a day or two past, but I am ravenously hungry now.”
With these preliminary remarks Tom Bigden took possession of one of the hammocks and told his story from beginning to end, saying, in conclusion—
“That part of the woods seems to be a repository for Matt Coyle’s stolen goods. If we had looked a little farther we might have found that money.”