“No,” said Rod. “I’d have liked it finely, but we never seemed to get a chance to hunt even that sort of buffalo in New York. I wish I had.”
“See that headland?” the skipper queried. “That’s the place where Sitting Bull and White Fox made their famous stand, with their backs to the edge of the cliff. The Iroquois had attacked them in thousands, and killed all the defenders’ braves. But Sitting Bull and White Fox outwitted the enemy. They had a trap laid, and the invaders all fell into a hole, where they were left to die, and Sitting Bull and White Fox lived happily ever after.”
“They must have been lonely,” commented Rod. “I’ve never heard of this bit of history. What sort of a trap was it?”
“I don’t exactly remember,” replied Jack. “It must have been about eight years ago. There’s White Fox sitting on the deck-house now, laughing at you. Beat him on the head with a belaying-pin for me, will you, please? That’s the place where we used to play Injuns when we were kids.”
More than once, these days, Jack came across the man named Martin who had asked the captain to sell the Sea-Lark. He crossed in the ferry occasionally, apparently going for the sail only, as he either returned to the town without going ashore or strolled aimlessly about until the sloop returned to the Point. Jack’s instinctive dislike for the fellow deepened, a state of affairs which was by no means remedied by Martin’s attempts to get on a friendly footing with the owner of the sloop. His manner was difficult to understand. He was impudent, in a way, and yet he cringed; and it was his cringing more than his impudence which made him repellent to Jack.
“Why does that chap hang ’round so much?” Rod asked one day.
“Nobody knows. He’s a mystery to me,” replied Jack.
“I’d like a little accident to happen while he was standing on the edge of the wharf,” observed Rod, quietly. “If I should happen to trip and bump into him so that he fell over, he wouldn’t have quite such a mean smile when we fished him out.”
“Better not,” replied Jack, reluctantly. “After all, he isn’t doing any harm, but I wish he’d find some other wharf to loaf about on. Sometimes I feel as though he were trying to hypnotize me as he stands and stares down at us. The worst of it is you can’t go up to a man and ask him what in thunder he means by looking at you, especially when you’re running a public ferry.”