Books: The House Boat Boys
S >>
St. George Rathborne >> The House Boat Boys
Pages:
1 |
2 |
3 |
4 |
5 | 6 |
7 |
8 |
9 |
10 |
11
Thad nearly had a fit when he saw what his chum was bringing
aboard.
Once he had tasted the animal when with some darkies in the brush
--they had gone 'coon hunting with a pack of dogs and unexpectedly
running across a 'possum Thad was fortunate enough to get a few
bites of the animal when done--it struck his fancy and he had
never forgotten the sweet morsel.
"I bet you had that rascal in mind when you bought those sweet
potatoes from the coon yesterday at Memphis," he declared, shaking
his forefinger at the other.
Maurice pleaded innocent of the charge, and declared that the only
one in the party at all able to prophesy regarding the weather or
anything else was Thad himself.
"All the same I imagine they'll just about fit the crime, and
tomorrow we'll see how you can get up a real Southern dinner. Now
that we are entering Dixieland we must pay more attention to the
fads that these people cater to, and 'possum heads the list,"
remarked Maurice, holding the plump animal up so that they could
admire his proportions.
The way the little yellow dog jumped and barked made them suspect
that he knew something about hunting 'coons and 'possum and indeed
there are few canines in the South that do not; so Maurice
declared that if the chance ever came he meant to try Dixie in
that capacity.
There was one good thing about this voyage, and that was the fact
of the ever moving current of the river--so long as they kept in
its swing they could count on being wafted closer and closer to
their destination.
What they had to beware of were the many false channels that led
nowhere; or else after winding in and out for ten miles brought
the traveler out upon the main stream just a mile below where he
entered.
Closely each night Maurice studied his chart and at the same time
kept in mind the warning he had received that this map was likely
to prove wrong in many cases, so quickly does the mighty current
cut new channels along its course.
CHAPTER XII.
THE LOST TRAP.
It was a quiet evening.
Outside, the moon was just creeping up over the trees, and shining
from a cold looking sky.
Out upon the broad river the current swept past with its constant
gurgle and swish, ever heading into the mysterious Southland,
which our boys yearned to reach.
Maurice was doing some sort of writing at the table, by the light
of the only lantern they possessed, and which did not afford any
too generous a light.
Thad was rummaging about, looking everywhere for a steel trap he
had once possessed, and which now seemed strangely missing.
"I wanted to try it ashore the worst kind tonight, because I've
never stopped thinking of that fine 'possum we had; and from the
signs where we picked up our wood I'm just dead sure a family of
the ringtails hold out," he was saying, as he turned things over,
and looked in the most inaccessible corners.
Thad was gifted with a streak of stubbornness; when he wanted
anything badly he hated to give it up the worst kind.
Consequently, although he had apparently hunted that whole cabin
over from one end to the other, he kept "nosing around," as his
cruising mate observed, rooting here and there, and muttering his
disgust.
"I've been told that there's such a thing as putting a thing away
too carefully, and now I believe it," remarked Maurice, as he
looked up for the tenth time to see the other bending far over,
and actually pawing into a dark hole under the sheathing of the
cabin side.
"But you remember seeing that trap after we started?" complained
Thad.
"Sure I have; but since that early day you must have tucked it
away in some place that's just disappeared. Joking aside, I wonder
if it was that thing fell overboard the other day when you were
romping about the deck with Dixie?" continued Maurice, as if a new
idea had come to him.
Thad had a broad grin on his face as he turned around, still on
his knees.
"What's this?" he remarked, holding some object up.
"Well, now," drawled the other, in his Kentucky way, "looks to me
like it might be a trap; and since we only had one aboard it must
be the missing muskrat gripper. Where'd you hit it?"
"In this blessed hole, and for the life of me I don't remember
ever putting it in there. If I did it must have been while I was
asleep and dreaming."
"Sure you didn't expect to get a rat, and try and call it a bally
'possum? Hey! what are you after now? Expect to find the mate to
it perhaps. Think traps grow from seed like corn?" Maurice
exclaimed, as he saw the other once more thrust his arm into the
hole.
"Why, I tell you this ain't the trap I had at all. Must have been
one poor old The Badgeley owned. P'raps he kept his traps in here.
Say, wouldn't it open your eyes some now if I pulled out a second
one of the same? Now, what d 'ye think of that?"
"I declare if it isn't another of the same kind. They do grow
then. Any more where that came from, Thad?" demanded the boy at
the table, beginning to show a decided interest.
"Oh! I don't know. Would you say that was anything like the
breed?" and he continued to drag out objects which he held up
until Maurice had counted five.
"Here, you've gone and loaded that hole to have the laugh on me;
now just own up!" he exclaimed, finally, throwing up his hands as
if surrendering.
"Honest Injun, I never set eyes on a single one of the lot before
now. You can see they're awfully rusty, too, and need oiling,
because they've been lyin' in that cubbyhole lots of months. I've
had the Tramp nearly a year now, and the old fisherman built it
himself, he told me, meaning some day to float down the
Mississippi. Just to think that we're doing it instead of him."
"Sure there's no more of 'em inside that bully old cache?"
demanded Maurice, laughing as he surveyed the pile of rusty traps,
which no doubt has once been used by the former owner of the boat
to add to his scanty income by supplying him with numerous pelts
of muskrats in the swamp not far from the town on the Ohio.
"I reckon I got the whole bunch; but no harm in making one more
try," and as he spoke Thad pushed his arm again into the dark
opening.
Maurice watched him as if amused.
"Another, eh?" he laughed, as he saw Thad draw back, with an
exclamation of surprise and wonder.
"No trap this time; but something else poor old The must have
shoved in there for safe-keeping."
When he held the object up Maurice saw that it seemed to be a
little packet, wrapped in a dingy piece of oiled cloth.
"Well, I declare, that's mighty queer. Looks like the old fellow
used that hole for keeping his valuables in. Bring it over to the
light, Thad, and let's take a peep at it."
Thad was only too eager to do so, for somehow the fact of finding
a treasure-trove aboard the Tramp excited him not a little.
So he knelt down beside the rough little table that served them in
so many capacities, yet which could be turned up against the cabin
wall in case more room was needed at any time.
"Here, take my knife and cut that cord," said Maurice, when his
chum had been clumsily fingering the wrapping that bound the odd
little packet for what to him seemed an unnecessarily long time.
"Guess I'll just have to," observed Thad, with a grin; "since my
fingers all seem like thumbs. Here she goes, then," and he started
to use the keen edge of the steel blade.
"Wonder what it is," remarked the other, his eyes glued curiously
on the packet, which was not more than five or six inches in
length.
"Feels just like a book," returned Thad, starting to unwrap the
cloth that bound the object in its waterproof folds.
"A book, eh? Like as not some sort of diary. I've never heard you
talk much about the old fellow; was he educated at all, and could
he write d'ye think?" demanded his comrade, with awakening
interest.
"Sure he could. Well, what did I tell yo? It's a book all right,
and p'raps old The kept a record of the fish and muskies he caught
winter and summer. He was a queer old duck, though he did seem to
think a heap of me. Wow! look at that, would you!"
Thad's startled exclamation was not in the least surprising,
considering what had happened.
As he idly opened the book there was disclosed a little collection
of genuine government yellowback bills, not one of which was less
than ten dollars in its denomination. No wonder both boys stared,
their eyes seemingly "as big as saucers," as Thad afterwards
described it.
Mechanically Thad began to count the money that had come into
their possession so miraculously.
"Three hundred and thirty dollars! Did you ever hear of such luck
in all your born days?" he said, his face lighting up with
delight.
"But it isn't ours, you know, Thad. He gave you the boat, but how
do we know he ever meant you to have this money? Can't you just
remember something that would explain it all? Didn't he say just a
little to you at some time about it?"
Maurice looked anxiously from the pile of bills to Thad's sober
face, as though urging him to exert himself to the limit to bring
back to his mind some clue that would unravel the mystery.
And Thad suddenly became anxious himself; he cast a quick look
toward the little window of the shanty-boat cabin, just as if
oppressed with a fear that hostile eyes might even then fee
fastened upon them.
So quickly does the possession of riches bring new troubles; up to
that moment such a thing as a possible intruder had been far from
occurring to Thad; but circumstances alter cases, and now they had
something worth stealing--and he grew afraid.
So his first act was to push the money out of sight under an old
magazine that Maurice had been reading, one they had secured from
Bob Archiable, the itinerant clock mender, when aboard his
floating home.
"I remember now that when I went to see poor old The at the
hospital, when they sent for me, he told me that he wanted me to
have the Tramp for my own. Then he started to say something more,
but began to choke so he could hardly breathe. The nurse tried to
ease him, but he died right there before me. I've never forgot how
mournful like he looked at me. I always thought the old man was
trying to tell me something more. And now I believe it was this!"
"That's right, old fellow. But let's look into the book. I see it
has lots of writing in it, and perhaps we'll get a clue that way."
The book proved to be a rude sort of a diary, in which the river
fisherman kept an account of the various little matters which
concerned his rather monotonous life.
Now and then, however, there were references to his expectation of
realizing some long anticipated pleasure; and the name of "Bunny"
began to appear frequently.
"What do you make of it?" asked Thad, after they had read for half
an hour; he relied upon the sagacity of his companion to solve
what was proving a puzzle to him.
"Why, it seems to me that Bunny must have been some one dear to
the old man. I kind of think it was a daughter who married and
went down the river some time or other; for his thoughts seem to
have always been bent on that coming trip away down in Dixie, when
he grew too old to fish alone. But go on and read some more. I
reckon we'll catch on sure before the end."
Maurice settled himself more comfortably to listen.
"Sounds good to me, what you say; and that's about my mind, too,"
observed the one who had discovered the treasure-trove, as he once
more turned to the soiled diary to continue reading what the
former owner of the shanty-boat had written, in his crabbed hand.
"Here it is, at last; just listen," he exclaimed, fully ten
minutes afterward, and then he went on:
"I met a man today that had just come up from down-river way. And
he knows George Stormway well. He told me Bunny was getting on
right well, and had three children. Last time I heard there wa'nt
but two mouths to feed. But he said George was laid up sometimes
with the shakes, and money mighty scarce in their cabin. Time
about for Old The to make up his mind to just drop in on Bunny,
and surprise her. If I live to fall that's what I'm going to do,
sure. I reckon if I left here in October I'd bring up at Morehead
sometime about the end of November. But It'll be a long wait till
then. As I get older I seem to want to see the gal and her kids
more'n more,"
Maurice looked at Thad, and perhaps there was a suspicious
moisture in his eyes as he winked violently several times.
"The poor old chap never hung out, Thad. If he had he would be on
board this boat right now, carrying his little treasure down to
his Bunny, to give her a surprise. That was a tough deal all
right," he said, reaching out his hand for the charts they had
secured of the lower Mississippi.
"What's up?" asked the other and his voice was rather husky, so
that he had to cough several times to clear it.
"Why, d'ye know, I was wondering where that place might be. I
don't remember having noticed it; and p'raps it is too small to be
put on the map."
Thad went on reading in the diary, while his chum placed a
forefinger on the chart, and ran it slowly down. "Here's where we
are, right now," he was saying, half to himself; "and down below--
well, I declare, if that ain't the queerest thing. What d'ye
think, Thad, we must be only a day's run, above Morehead. It's on
the map all right, even if it is only a wood station, where the
river steamers stop to load up!"
Thad had to examine the location to make sure, and all the while
he was saying eagerly:
"It's just like all this happened on purpose, Maurice--my wanting
that trap so bad, and not finding it, and then looking in the hole
in the side of the cabin, to strike this! I reckon old The's
spirit must have been pushing me along; and Maurice, there ain't
but one thing for us to do now."
"Yes," said the other, nodding his head with determination; "this
money don't belong to us. Bunny needs it, and Bunny's going to get
it, if we can find her out!"
"Shake on that, Pard Maurice. I knew you'd say it!" cried Thad.
And then and there they ratified the bargain with a grip that
stood for everything that was loyal and true.
CHAPTER XIII
THE FACE AT THE WINDOW.
"What else did you find in what he wrote?" asked Maurice, after
they had dropped each other's hand again.
"Nothing much. He keeps mentioning Bunny often, showing that she
was getting more'n more on his mind. And twice he speaks about me,
and how much he had come to think of me. I'm glad to read that.
Here he even wonders if I'd like to go down river with him in the
Fall. Ain't it a queer world, after all, Maurice? Just to think
how things come around; for here we are right near the place poor
old The wanted to visit, and carrying his little pile to Bunny?"
"Nothing else worth telling?" asked the other.
"He speaks here about feeling bad, and hopes it ain't his old
trouble springing back on him again. Then the writing stops. I
reckon he was taken sick about that time. I tried to nurse him,
you know; but when he went out of his head I got scared, and ran
for a doctor. Then they took him away to that fine hospital at
Evansville, because he used to live there. After that it ended
right soon."
"Well, I guess the best thing for us to do would be to hide the
book and the money where you found it. All these months it's
stayed in that black hole safe, and it can stand another day or
so."
So, taking the advice of Maurice, Thad had placed the bills once
more between the pages of the diary, which he carefully pushed
into its former hiding place.
"Perhaps Bunny'll be glad to have his book, too. If she's his girl
she'd like to read what he said about her," suggested Maurice.
"That's so," replied the other, getting up from his knees.
Maurice saw him look up instinctively toward the little window;
and then spring hastily to his feet.
At the same moment he thought he heard some sound outside, as if a
floating object had struck against the anchored shanty-boat.
It might be a log, as frequently happened, for there were many
such drifting on the surface of the big river, washed from the
banks above by some local flood.
Thad, without wasting any time in thought, sprang to the door.
This had a faculty of catching sometimes, and requiring more or
less labor before it could be thrown open; and of course it had to
play Thad such a trick just then, when he seemed so desirous of
making haste.
Maurice, seeming to scent trouble of some sort from the strange
actions of his chum, waited to snatch up the old faithful Marlin
twelve-bore. It had seen them through other scrapes, and might
come in handy again.
Finally, after considerable exertion, Thad managed to open the
stubborn door, after which he rushed out on deck, followed by his
mate and the barking Dixie.
"What'd you think you saw?" demanded Maurice, as he discovered by
the light of the moon that the deck was devoid of anything in the
way of peril.
"A face at the window! Some man was aboard I Oh! I wonder if he
saw me put that book away?" exclaimed the excited Thad.
"But where is he now?" and the speaker glanced toward the shore,
which was a good twenty feet away, the gap being far too wide to
allow of any man jumping it.
"There's something moving away below there in the shadow of the
trees on the water!" exclaimed Thad.
"A log, p'raps," remarked the other, carelessly.
"But I did see a face, I'm sure of it; and if it was a man he just
jumped into his skiff and put off before I could get out. I wish I
knew for sure."
Thad made a move toward the little dinghy which lay upon the deck,
fastened with a chain and padlock, so that it could not be stolen
by any light-fingered coon.
"Hold on there, none of that. Let me catch you chasing down-river
after an unknown man in a skiff. Why, he'd just as like as not
upset you if you accused him of boarding our boat. Settle down and
try to forget it all. I reckon it was only imagination after all."
But Thad continued to shake his head, and declare that he did not
believe his eyes could play him such a trick.
"If it was a man, Maurice, and he once saw all that money, why
he'd come back again to try and steal it," he said, solemnly.
"Oh, I guess not," laughed his chum, holding up the gun in a
suggestive way; "at least not as long as we could defend our
property with this bully old shooter. But better make up your mind
it was a log, and let it go at that."
"Wish I could," grumbled Thad, shaking that stubborn head: of his.
"Well, how about that trapping expedition--plenty of steel in
sight, and a nice fat young ringtail would be just the boss dish
tomorrow. Anything doing?"
So Thad once more consented to drop the engrossing subject of old
The Badgeley's treasure-trove, and pay attention to the matter of
supplying their scanty larder with meat.
"Nothing to hinder my setting the whole outfit on the bank yonder,
is there?" he demanded, entering the lighted cabin again, and
thinking how snug it seemed after a short time on the cold deck.
"I don't reckon there is, Chum Thad. If one 'possum is good, two
ought to some better, and as for three, oh! my!" and he smacked
his lips as if in joy over the prospect of a feast.
Accordingly Thad carried out his plan. With some dripping from
fried bacon he greased each trap until the jaws worked readily.
Then he went ashore in the little tender, bearing the lantern in
order to make sure of his work.
Maurice sat there and watched the shore.
There was no reason why he should fondle his gun all the while,
but he persisted in doing so; which might be taken as an
indication that the words of his companion had made a deeper
impression on the scoffer than he would admit.
In half an hour Thad came aboard again, with cold fingers, but a
satisfied air.
"It's only a question of how many," he observed, as he once more
fastened the dinghy with the chain and lock.
"All right then. I'm going to make up my mouth for fat pig
tomorrow, and look out for squalls if you disappoint me," and
Maurice, as he spoke, led the way inside.
Thad was very particular how he saw to the fastenings of the door,
an operation his chum watched with many a chuckle.
"Say, if he has as poor luck opening doors as some people I know,
he never would get in here without arousing the dead; get that,
Thad?"
"Well, you never can tell about doors. Just when you want them to
open smart like, they won't budge. Then, when you'd like the pesky
old thing to hang fire she slides open just like the track was
greased with mutton tallow. I'm one of the kind that likes to make
sure!"
"Oh! I reckon you are right. Anyhow, we used to write in school
that it's no use locking the stable door after the horse is
stolen. But looky here, do you know it's turning-in time--ten
o'clock as near as I can tell. Me for the bunk, right quick!"
Thad sat there for some little time after his chum had crawled
into his comfortable, if cramped nest.
Finally he, too, began to get ready to retire. On these cold
nights the boys only partly undressed. They did not have any too
many blankets or comfortables, and it did get mighty dreary in the
cabin after the fire went out, with the wind sweeping over that
wide stretch of flowing water that came out of the wintry North.
But before Thad put out the lantern, he placed it just where he
could lay his hand on it at a second's notice and also made sure
to have matches handy.
Nor was that all. He quietly picked up the old Marlin, and
deposited it alongside his bunk.
Then came darkness, as he blew out the light. Thad heard a sound
not unlike a chuckle from the opposite bunk; but although he
imagined his comrade was laughing at all his preparations for
trouble, the fact did not give him much concern.
When his mind was made up nothing could turn Thad aside.
No doubt he woke up at regular intervals during that night, and
rising to his elbow listened eagerly to the various sounds coming
from without.
The little window was well within the range of his vision, and as
the moon shone brilliantly without he could see its entire
dimensions plainly.
But long ago an iron bar had been fastened across the exact center
of the opening, since the former owner of the shanty-boat did not
enjoy the thought that roving boys might enter and pillage while
he was on his route, peddling the buffalo fish he caught.
It would have to be a pretty small individual who could force his
way through that window; and yet Thad's fears induced him to
observe it with considerable apprehension.
But the night passed without any alarm.
If strangers landed on the deck of the shanty-boat while the young
owners slept, they failed to make their presence known.
Morning came at last.
Both boys were early astir, as was their custom; the coming of
daylight served to lure them from their bunks; and indeed on many
occasions they would have been getting breakfast before, only that
there was need of husbanding their scanty stock of oil.
Maurice, knowing that his chum was eager to learn whether any
spoils had fallen to his traps, volunteered to cook the limited
morning meal, while Thad paddled ashore.
He was almost through, and the coffee was giving a most appetizing
odor to the surrounding air, when the trapper came paddling out.
Maurice watched operations with more or less interest.
First of all Thad threw the traps aboard, trying to look
disappointed while so doing.
"Oh! come off, you!" cried his chum, who could see that there was
something assumed in the actions of the returned sportsman; "think
I don't just glimpse a tail like a round file sticking up over the
gunnel? Just as you said last night, it's only a question of HOW
MANY."
"One!" said Thad, as he tossed a young 'possum on deck.
"But that tail is still there!" cried his comrade.
"Two!"
"My! you make my mouth water some. That tail--"
"Three, and that takes your old tail. Now, what d'ye say to that
for good hick. Ain't we going to live high for a while? I don't
suppose you happened to see anything suspicious around?" and Thad,
as he spoke, handed up the gun which he had made sure to carry
with him "in case any more vicious dogs chanced to be roaming near
by," he had explained at the time he departed.
"Why, no, of course not; but what makes you ask such a silly
question as that, Thad?"
"Silly it may be, but I give you my word I heard a man cough just
as I climbed into the dinghy," asserted Thad.
But Maurice only smiled. Truth to tell he felt positive that there
had been nothing to the scare of the preceding night. Surely the
ordinarily alert Dixie must have barked had any stranger been
moving about on the deck while they sat in the cabin.
They were soon busy at the table. On the preceding day they had
been fortunate enough to buy a loaf of bread from a woman on a
canal-boat that was tied to the bank, her husband being
temporarily employed at some work on shore.
Butter they had none, but the sharp appetites for which the
outdoor life was responsible, craved none, and things tasted good
at all times; the only anxiety that arose was in connection of
quantity.
"Wood's mighty low, and as there's a chance of bad weather today,
after that red in the sky this morning, I move we lay in a stock
while we have the chance."
Pages:
1 |
2 |
3 |
4 |
5 | 6 |
7 |
8 |
9 |
10 |
11