“Hop, that’s Bob Hart,” said he, after he had taken a good look at the boy; and then he and Hopkins took off their hats and waved them over their heads. “He’s a Baltimore lad,” added Egan, by way of explanation, “and his father is captain of that boat.”
It would seem, from this, that Egan did not wave his hat to draw the Magpie’s attention to Barr’s big gun, but simply to return the salute that had been given him by his friend, Bob Hart; but still the police-boat came in and took charge of the gun, because Bob, or somebody else, told the officer in command what it was that Egan and Curtis were holding in their hands. We may add, too, that Egan did not say one word to arouse suspicion against Enoch. The latter had done that long ago, by allowing himself to be so often seen in Barr’s company.
After the big gun had been taken on board the Magpie, and Enoch had gone back to report the matter to the man in the sink-boat, Egan and his guests resumed their search for the shore birds. They found them at last, and they proved so tame that Don wouldn’t fire at them at all, declaring that he would just as soon go into Mr. Egan’s barn-yard and shoot chickens. He would find quite as much sport in it; but Hopkins, who wasn’t thinking of sport, but of a good dinner, banged away as often as the opportunity was presented, and at the end of half an hour had filled his game-bag.
When Enoch made his unsuccessful attempt to give the Sallie up to the mercy of the elements, Egan and his friends, having passed an hour or two very pleasantly in the parlor with music and social converse, were assembled in their room, listening to the roaring of the wind and the beating of the sleet against the windows, while they discussed various plans for the following day. The report of Sam’s musket brought them to their feet and sent them down stairs at headlong speed. In the yard they found Mr. Egan, who was looking anxiously around, half expecting to see some of his buildings in flames.
“Barr is at work already,” said he, as the boys came out. “He is going to pay you off for meddling with that big gun of his.”
“Well, if he will only settle with me and let your property alone, I don’t care,” replied Gus. “Sam was the fellow who gave the alarm. Let’s go down and see what he shot at.”
The boys were much relieved to find that Sam’s vigilance had saved the cutter from harm, but they did not sleep very soundly that night. The Sallie was the first thing that came into their minds when they awoke in the morning. They went aboard of her as soon as they were dressed, but could find nothing to indicate that any one had been near her during the night.
“I say, Sam,” shouted Egan to the sentinel, who was getting ready to go ashore after his breakfast, “you must have been dreaming last night.”
“Look a yer, Marse Gus,” replied the negro, “if I dream dat I see a yarl go pas’ yer las’ night with three men in yer, de dogs done dream de same, kase dey growl, an’ dat’s what make me look ober de rail—yes, sah. Somebody was da’ suah, kase I done seed ’em.”
This was the day that Enoch and his party spent at the duck-shooter’s cabin, but Egan and his party devoted it to glass-ball shooting in the forenoon, and to quail-shooting in the afternoon. This was done at the request of Walter Curtis, who had developed a remarkable fondness for quail on toast. The next day was to be given up to Hopkins, who was eager to secure a white swan, like the one which had led Egan that long race in his cutter, and that was why the latter suggested a week’s encampment on Spesutia Island. It would be little or no trouble for such a rifle-shot as Curtis to bring down a specimen now, Egan said, but if they waited until the upper end of the bay and its estuaries were frozen over, and the birds driven into the open water, it would be next to an impossibility to get a shot at one. Like all the wild fowl in Chesapeake Bay, they had learned how to calculate the range of a duck-gun, and knew enough to keep just beyond reach of it. When Enoch, Jones, and Lester sailed by on their way home from the duck-shooter’s cabin, Egan’s party was getting ready to start for the island. If Barr had stayed at home, or if the Sallie had kept away from Conesus Creek, Don Gordon would not have been shanghaied; but Barr was so anxious to put in another good night’s work among the ducks before he received a second visit from the police, and so very much afraid that the Magpie might intercept him while he was on his way to the creek, that he thought it best to get as close to his shooting-ground as he could before dark. The boys reached the creek before he did, and frightened away the ducks. Although he was at least three miles distant when it happened, Barr saw the flock as it arose from the water, and the way he stamped about the deck of his sloop, and threatened vengeance upon those who had spoiled his night’s work for him, was fearful. Half an hour later he picked up Pete, who, now that there was nothing to keep him longer in the creek, had started for home.