“Certainly,” replied the former, whereupon Phil’s father proceeded with his narrative as follows:
“When I learned definitely that my boy was to join me at Sitka by a certain steamer, I was filled with pleasant anticipations, and counted the days until he should arrive, for I think there is a stronger bond of sympathy between us than between most fathers and sons of Phil’s age. I so arranged my business that we could spend the greater part of the summer in those hunting and exploring trips of which we are both so fond—in fact, all my plans were laid with reference to him; and when the steamer came in without him, I doubt if there was a more disappointed father than I in the United States. It brought a letter from him, written in Victoria, stating that he was ready and waiting to take that very ship, and it brought his trunk. I also discovered among the passengers an acquaintance named Ames—Judge Ames, you know—who had met Phil in Victoria, planned with him what they should do together while coming up the coast, and was greatly exercised over the boy’s nonappearance.
“Of course the chances were that he had simply got left, and would be along on the next boat; but, as I could not bear the thought of ten days of suspense, I determined to go back on the steamer that had just arrived—at least, until we should meet the up boat. Then, if Phil were on board, I could return with him; while, if he were not, I should be well on my way towards Victoria, in which place I should then know he must have met with some serious trouble. You know as well as I that I did not meet him on the second steamer, and did not find him in Victoria. I did, however, discover plenty of traces of him. First, there was a note for me at the Driard, stating that he had taken passage with a friend named Serge Belcofsky—whose mother I had met—on the fishing-schooner Seamew, for Sitka. Upon making inquiries I learned that the Seamew was more of a sealer than a fisherman, and that while she might possibly touch at Sitka, the chances were against her doing so.
“I also found at the hotel my boy’s rifle—which, by-the-way, I have with me now—his travelling-bag, and overcoat, all of which he had left to satisfy a bill for board amounting to less than ten dollars. As I had provided him with plenty of money, I could not at first understand this. When, however, I discovered a wad of bills, most of them Canadian, amounting to very nearly one hundred dollars, inside the lining of his overcoat, and found the upper edge of an inner pocket partially torn from its fastenings, it was all made plain. I knew in a moment that poor Phil’s careless habits had again got the better of him, and had this time brought him to quite serious grief.
“What worried me most of all was to learn that, on the second of the two nights he seems to have spent in Victoria, Phil was arrested. Of course I followed this up at once. I found and rewarded the police-sergeant, who had taken such pity on the lad as to allow him to occupy his own bed, instead of locking him up. Then I saw the judge before whom the case had come for examination. We discovered that we had known each other by reputation for some time, and he relieved my mind at once. He said he remembered the case very well. Phil had been arrested on a charge of threatened assault and battery, evidently trumped up to gratify some private spite, as the complainant never appeared to press the charge. The judge said that when Phil gave him his name it had a familiar sound, but that he did not identify it with mine until after the boy was dismissed and had disappeared. He also said that if the young scamp had only made himself and his trouble known he would gladly have assisted him to the extent of his power.
“I was still puzzled to know how the boy had obtained a position as a sailor, and what he was wearing, as his trunk, bag, and overcoat were now in my possession, and apparently nothing had been taken from the two former.”
“He wasn’t just a common sailor—he was a hunter,” here broke in Miss May, proud of her acquaintance with the facts in this interesting case.
“So I afterwards discovered,” replied Mr. Ryder, “and I must say that is his one act of which I feel ashamed. I never thought that a son of mine would become a pot-hunter, and pursue butchery as a business.”
“Oh! but you don’t understand!” cried Phil’s fair champion, eagerly. “He didn’t know at first that he was to be a hunter, and then he didn’t realize what it meant, and just as soon as he found out he refused to obey the captain’s orders to hunt any longer.”