“Didn’t you and some one else cowhide one of the town fellows some time ago?”
“Oh, that was four or five weeks ago. It couldn’t have anything to do with that.”
“Perhaps it may. These fellows say they have been on the lookout for you for weeks.”
“I had forgotten about that,” said he, looking meditative, and, I thought, chagrined. “But those fellows insulted me, especially a young cub, who threatened to thrash me. I gave him a dose the next day, which I think he will remember when he wants to be impudent to me.”
“Precisely so! And I am only surprised that you did not remember it yourself when you were tied to that tree with the tar-kettle before you.”
“Do you really believe that fellow is at the bottom of this affair?” asked Waddie, knitting his brows.
“I don’t know anything about it.”
“But that fellow was smaller than any of these.”
“Of course, I can give you no information, for I don’t know any of them. But we will talk over that matter another time. You stay where you are, Waddie, and I will take an observation.”
I crept for some distance through the cow-path in the underbrush, till I heard voices near the lake. I could not see the ruffians, but I judged by the sound that they were moving toward the wharf where Waddie’s boat was moored. I proceeded still farther toward the lake, and, emerging from the bushes, I discovered all four of the wretches on the wharf. The two whom I had imprisoned in the cabin of the Belle had broken out, as I had anticipated, or, possibly, the other two had released them. I feared that they had ruined, or badly damaged, my boat, and I was very anxious about her.