Again Willie was afire with a problem. He turned the matter over in a hundred ways, and at length decided that the tramp had crawled into the pile of boxes, even as he, Willie, had snuggled down among the lumber, for rest. Likely the old fellow had found a snug berth to catch a little sleep. More than likely there were tarpaulins there, and the fellow had crawled into a bunch of them. They would both keep him warm and make a fairly soft place to rest. Yes, that was undoubtedly the reason. Willie was satisfied that he had solved the problem. He had no doubt that if he nosed about the pile of boxes, he would find the old fellow snug inside. But that was the last thing Willie thought of doing. Even a tramp had a right to sleep.
Presently men began to gather on the pier again. Some of them came up over the side of the pier, from canal-boats in the dock. Others came from shore. Willie guessed at once that they were barge captains. At least, such men are called captains. They live on the barges with their families and look after the craft for the owners. Usually they are a rough set, and these particular canal-boat captains now gathering on the pier were no exception. Willie looked at them closely and decided that he would not want to be at their mercy if they were angry at him. They looked like a desperate lot, and Willie could not help feeling that they must be as desperate as they looked. Certainly they led irresponsible lives, for they were here to-day and gone to-morrow, their homes being wherever fate and a cargo took their craft. How easy it would be for them to make away with an enemy. The water-front was dark and the rushing tide so near at hand. A silent blow, a quick push over the end of a pier, and there was the end of some one. And more than once, Willie knew, that had been the end of some one. He had read of such cases and heard of others.
The more Willie thought about these men, the more interested he became in them. It was his old habit asserting itself. He had given rein to his imagination. And he was picturing to himself the evil side of canal-boat life. And evil enough Willie knew it could be. More than once, when he was working to trace the secret wireless of that German spy, he had been told about the piratical river life led by some of these bargemen. Enormous amounts of property they carried in their barges, and not all of it, Willie knew, reached its rightful destination.
While Willie was wondering about these things, his eyes were focused on the growing group of river-men before him. Suddenly he became aware that they were gathering in a circle. They were drawing close together, right beside the pile of boxes where Willie believed the tramp was curled up. Willie had had no interest in the tramp previously, but now he suddenly felt the keenest sympathy for him. Closer together drew the bargemen, and Willie could see that they were discussing something. Probably, he thought, they were plotting a robbery of some float or lighter. And if they were, and if they discovered the tramp concealed so close at hand, they would instantly suspect him of being an eavesdropper. And what they would do to him Willie did not even like to imagine. He hoped the tramp would keep quiet and lie low.
Either the tramp was already asleep, or was possessed of discretion, for no sign of him was to be seen. Dusk was coming fast, and Willie should have returned to the Lycoming, but, like the tramp, he hated to move. Though he was at some distance from the gang of boatmen, they might nevertheless think he was spying on them. So he snuggled down closer than ever in the lumber pile and watched. Presently the group of bargemen broke up, and the various canal-boat captains and others started to go their separate ways.
“Don’t forget,” Willie heard the man who had done most of the talking say. “To-morrow night. And it will be rich pickings for somebody.”
The speaker slid over the side of the pier to a canal-boat. To other boats and toward the street the other members of the gang made their way. In a few moments the pier was vacant.
“Now for the Lycoming,” thought Willie. “Roy will think I’m lost.”
He started to rise, then sank back quickly in his seat. Something was moving in the pile of boxes. Willie looked intently. A head was thrust quickly up among the boxes. It was the tramp. He took a quick look around, saw that the pier was deserted, and leaped from his place of concealment. Willie did the same. There was no reason why he should delay a moment longer in getting back to the Lycoming. But before he had taken a dozen paces, the tramp was beside him. The tramp opened a wallet and took out a crisp dollar bill.
“If you will send a telephone message for me,” he said, “the change from this bill is yours.”