But an event soon occurred which was destined to change the relations of the two boys. Halvor Reitan called a secret meeting of his partisans, among whom he made the mistake to include Marcus, and agreed with them to lie in ambush at the bend of the road, where it entered the forest, and attack Viggo Hook and his followers. Then, he observed, he would “make him dance a jig that would take the starch out of him.”
The others declared that this would be capital fun, and enthusiastically promised their assistance. Each one selected his particular antipathy to thrash, though all showed a marked preference for Viggo, whom, however, for reason of politeness, they were obliged to leave to the chief. Only one boy sat silent, and made no offer to thrash anybody, and that was Marcus Henning.
“Well, Muskrat,” cried Halvor Reitan, “whom are you going to take on your conscience?”
“No one,” said Marcus.
“Put the Muskrat in your pocket, Halvor,” suggested one of the boys; “he is so small, and he has got such a hard bullet head, you might use him as a club.”
“Well, one thing is sure,” shouted Halvor, as a dark suspicion shot through his brain, “if you don’t keep mum, you will be a mighty sick coon the day after to-morrow.”
Marcus made no reply, but got up quietly, pulled a rubber sling from his pocket, and began, with the most indifferent manner in the world, to shoot stones down the river. He managed during this exercise, which everybody found perfectly natural, to get out of the crowd, and, without seeming to have any purpose whatever, he continued to put a couple of hundred yards between himself and his companion.
“Look a-here, Muskrat,” he heard Halvor cry, “you promised to keep mum.”
Marcus, instead of answering, took to his heels and ran.
“Boys, the scoundrel is going to betray us!” screamed the chief. “Now come, boys! We’ve got to catch him, dead or alive.”