CHAPTER XXVIII. A HARD BATTLE AT SANDY POINT.
The brilliant strategy of the bruiser was not affected by the visit of Paul Bristol to the hollow tree. On the contrary, it improved its prospects of success. The intimation that there was even a little money in the tin box was encouraging, for it would add something to the ten dollars he was to receive on account of his blind bargain with Walk Billcord.
As soon as Paul disappeared in the woods, Tom took the boathook from the Dragon, the oars being already in his possession, and hastened off in the direction to which he had carried his previous survey of the locality. He had found a low place beyond the site of the cottage, where a rotten log lay on the ground. Beneath this decayed wood he deposited the oars and boathook. Pulling off enough of the punky wood to cover the articles, he returned to the boat with a rapid step.
He had been absent but a few minutes, and Paul had not yet appeared with the tin box. If the cunning strategist had been asked why he concealed the oars and the boathook, very likely he would have replied that he had done so to prevent the possibility of an escape on the part of his victim. But Tom was a cunning fellow, and this was by no means his object. If he failed to accomplish his purpose in the first onslaught, there is not the slightest doubt that he would have been entirely willing that his intended victim should escape, and even be glad to have him do so, even if he had been left to find his way on foot from the point.
The three implements which constituted the furniture of the Dragon might be dangerous weapons in the hands of a resolute fellow like Paul Bristol. He had secured a club for himself, and picking it up, he was plying it as a cane and plaything, in order to avert any suspicion as to its probable use.
Paul soon returned with the tin box in his hand. It was an old mustard can, and it was not a convenient thing to have in his pocket, and was of no value. He took the rings and money from it, and put them into his pocket, throwing away the can.
"How much money have you got, Bristol Brick?" asked Tom, with his usual grin.
"Only a two-dollar bill, and that belongs to my mother," replied Paul, who did not know his companion, and would not have been afraid of losing the money if he had.
"Ain't you goin' to spend it down to Westport, and treat a feller that helps you row the boat?" asked Tom, with a mighty grin.