“A capital scheme for us, he says,” exclaimed Harry Brackett, tearing the letter into little pieces and casting them to the winds. “I wonder what it is? I’m to meet him in the pasture to-morrow night. Cracky! but I guess something’s going to happen. I’d like to get even with Jack Harvey and Henry Burns for once. I’ll dare to do anything that Mr. Carleton will, too; for he’ll get the blame, if there’s any trouble, because he’s a man.”
Thus it happened that Captain Sam Curtis had not been mistaken when, on Friday night, he thought he saw his former lodger, Mr. Carleton, stealing through the bushes in the pasture, as he was coming from the post-office. Indeed, Captain Sam might have seen more, if he had been sharper-eyed. He might have seen Harry Brackett dodge quickly out of sight at the sound of his voice, then throw himself on the ground and lie still until he had passed.
What took place between Harry Brackett and Mr. Carleton, on this Friday night, was an agreement, merely, to meet there again on the succeeding night; after which, Mr. Carleton proceeded some three miles down the island, where he had engaged a room at a farmhouse.
“And what’s the joke?” Harry Brackett had asked, eagerly.
“Leave that to me,” Mr. Carleton had replied. “It won’t hurt the boat any; I promise you that. But they may have to mend their sail a little after it. You know what that means, eh, you young rascal?”
Mr. Carleton chuckled.
“Keep watch for the Viking,” were his parting words.
There was little need for Harry Brackett to watch for the Viking’s return. He knew of it by the arrival home of Squire Brackett, in the worst humour he had ever been in—if there could be degrees of such bad humour as the squire’s. He knew of it by his father’s ordering him to “clear out,” when he asked about the trip. So, his supper finished, he lost little time in obeying.
Harry Brackett hurrying up the road and turning off at length into the pasture, and Mr. Carleton walking rapidly up the island, and coming at length to the same spot, they met, shortly after eight o’clock. Great news had Harry Brackett to impart: the arrival of the Viking. Important enough it was to Mr. Carleton, but he took it coolly—or seemed to.
“Well, well,” he said, laughing, “you’re in for fun, aren’t you? I didn’t half expect you; the night started in so bad. I shouldn’t have come, if I hadn’t promised you I would. However, we’re in for it. Ha! ha! I declare it makes me feel like a boy again. We’ll have a laugh on them to-morrow, for I’m coming back to Captain Sam’s to-morrow afternoon, to stay.”