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
"Yes," said Thad, whirling his shillalah around in a lively way,
as a token of what he meant to do in case of an emergency.
By the time they reached the spot where the trees joined branches
across the dimly defined road both boys were in somewhat of a
feverish state of apprehension. They looked at each hoary old
trunk as if they believed every tree might conceal a crouching
enemy, ready to leap out and attack them.
Yet, strange to say, neither of them once thought of craning their
necks in order to survey what lay above.
Perhaps, had Thad done so, he might have received more or less of
a shock just about that time.
"Hark!" exclaimed Maurice, pulling up.
"That was a shout, wasn't it?" demanded his chum, his eyes seeking
those of the other instantly.
"I'm dead sure it was, and not an owl," replied Maurice.
"And it came from ahead there; didn't you think so?"
"It certainly did. Listen, there's more of the same kind. Now what
d'ye make of all that?" muttered Maurice.
"Somebody's coming this way, for I can hear the sound of running.
Say, perhaps it's the coons he told us about, the outlaws that
live in the swamp! Mebbe the sheriff's posse has stirred 'em up
like a hornet's nest, and they're on the jump!"
Maurice looked annoyed.
"If that's the case we ought to be hiding ourselves," he declared.
"Yes, but just remember, boy, that there's another thing bothering
us just now. What if we ran plump into the arms of that red-top
who's laying for us?"
"Well, then, let's drop down here behind a couple of these trees.
Perhaps they'll go past and never get a peep of us," suggested the
one who carried the double-barrel gun.
"No use," chirped Thad, immediately.
"And why not?" asked Maurice.
"They saw us; they know we're here; that's why."
"How do you know that?"
"I just saw a feller bob up along the road there. He swung his
arms over his head as he dropped down into another hollow. And
look, ain't that some more of the bunch, topping the rise? I tell
you, it's all off, Maurice; they've got us caged. Why, we can't
run away, and all that's left is to stay here, grin and bear it."
Thad sat down as though he believed it absolutely useless to take
the least step toward seeking safety in flight, but, indeed, both
of them were already partly winded with their efforts, so that
anything in the line of running might be deemed mere madness.
"Hide the packet then, quick! Stick it under that root there,
while no one is looking. Perhaps we can fool them yet!" hissed
Maurice, as a brilliant idea flashed through his brain.
"Bully for you, my boy! That's the ticket."
While he was speaking Thad drew the small package from his inside
pocket, where he had been carefully keeping it since leaving the
boat, and with one quick nervous movement thrust the same out of
sight under the convenient root.
No sign remained of his action, and he was fain to believe that no
human eyes save his own and those of Maurice could have witnessed
the act.
But it was not so.
"Say, they're coming on the jump!" exclaimed Maurice, who had
remained on his feet while the other squatted, the better to carry
out the process of secreting the precious packet.
"How many?" asked Thad, between quick breaths, induced by the
tremendous excitement of the occasion.
"Don't know, but a whole lot of 'em. And every mother's son seems
to be armed with some sort of gun. A fine chance we'd have against
such a husky bunch, if we showed signs of fight. Yet it does go
hard against the grain to give up without striking a blow."
Maurice gnashed his teeth and frowned while speaking, fingering
the lock of his Marlin nervously.
By this time Thad had risen to his knees, an overwhelming sense of
curiosity urging him on.
"Why, Maurice, that's funny!" he exclaimed, immediately
"I don't see it; what's struck you now, Thad?"
"Why, don't you remember what Mr. Stallings told us?"
"Sure I do--that these swamp rats were about as ugly a crowd to
handle as he had ever heard tell of; and I guess he was right; for
if I ever saw a tough lot of fellow citizens they're coming down
on us right now, five, six of 'em. Ugh!" growled Maurice.
"I think you'll live to take that back, old fellow," chuckled
Thad, who seemed to be far less alarmed than he had been a brief
time previously, though still excited.
"What ails you?" asked the other, querulously.
"Look for yourself. Are those chaps white men or coons?"
"Why, I reckon they all seem to be white, so far as I can see--oh!
I declare, I remember now--"
"The storekeeper told us those bad men were niggers!"
"Right; that's what he said. Still, these may be another lot,
connected with your friend with the sorrel-top!" declared Maurice,
who died hard.
"Rats! You know now just as well as I do that yonder is the
sheriff and his posse! Perhaps they think we're some of the
riffraff they've been chasing, and that's why they keep aiming
their blamed old guns at us that way. Hadn't we better hold up our
arms, Maurice, and give 'em to understand that we surrender? Some
fool might think it fine to take a snapshot at us and explain
afterwards he thought we meant to fight!"
"That's right, Thad; a clever idea. So up you go, my boy."
Maurice, as he spoke, allowed the gun to fall at his feet, and
elevated both hands as high as he could get them. Thad hastened to
follow suit, and it might be he unconsciously cast his eyes upward
at the same instant, as though eager to see just how his chum held
his.
A sudden spasm seemed to shoot through the frame of Thad, and his
companion heard him give utterance to an exclamation; but being so
intensely interested in the coming of the runners, who were now
very close, he made no comment, nor did he ask questions.
The men quickly closed in around them.
Maurice realized that what his chum had guessed must surely be the
truth. He even decided which of the six was the sheriff; for the
storekeeper at Morehead Landing had described this individual to
him, so that he might know him if they ever met.
"Hello, Mr. Jerrold! Glad to meet up with you, sir. Mr. Stallings
told us you were out after some game. But he said it was black
meat you wanted, not white," sang out Maurice, cheerily; and when
he chose to make himself agreeable the young Kentuckian could win
over nearly any man.
"Seems like yuh know me, youngster. Who-all be yuh, anyhow, and
what yuh doin' thisaways. I'd like tuh know right well?"
But the sheriff had at the same time made a motion to his men, and
all show of weapons vanished. He knew that there was no need of
violence in this case.
Maurice quickly told him who they were, and that, desiring to see
George Stormway, bearing good news from the North, they had been
directed along the road by the friendly storekeeper.
"Don't s'pose now, boys, yuh seen anything o' a pair o' black
sheep? We done skeered 'em up outen the swamp, an' when our dawgs
gits heah we s'pect tuh track 'em down once foh all," observed the
sheriff, now apparently ready to shake hands with the two
voyagers.
"No; we haven't met a single person, black or white, on the trail;
but we have reason to believe that there's a man hiding around
here who wanted to waylay us and rob us."
Thereupon, as the sheriff asked the reason he had for believing
such a thing, Maurice started in to explain. He told of finding
something of value on the boat that belonged to George Stormway's
wife, Bunny Badgeley that was--how the man with the red-top had
tried to steal the packet and was baffled by reason of Thad's
cunning trick; how his chum had seen him just outside the hamlet
of Morehead Landing, the tracks on the road, and finally the
figure seen by the clump of bushes.
"Yes," broke in Thad just then, and his chum saw that an expansive
grin covered his face as he spoke, "and if the gentlemen will only
take a squint up over their heads they will see the party in
question squattin' on that limb right above us, where he hid
himself, I reckon, thinkin' to just drop down on whichever held
the gun!"
Then there was an immediate craning of necks; and loud laughs from
the members of the Mississippi sheriff's posse attested to the
fact that they had discovered what strange fruit that live oak
bore.
CHAPTER XVIII.
THE GREAT GOOD NEWS.
"It's a big fat 'possom!" shouted one of the posse, swinging his
gun upward, as though getting ready to shoot."
"You're away off, Dexter; look closer and you can see the ringed
tail of a 'coon!" jeered a second.
"If we had the dawgs hyah we'd have a heap o' sport, gents; but as
it is, I reckon as how we'll jest have tuh fill him full o' lead,
an' let her go at that!" exclaimed a third member of the party.
These various remarks, while evidently spoken in a spirit of
levity, aroused strenuous opposition above. There was an immediate
movement of the object straddling the limb. Then two arms waved
vigorously, and a high-pitched voice sounded:
"Hold on, thar, yo-uns! I ain't a 'coon, but I'm acomin' down
right smart, all the samee. Don't let loose on me, boys; I ain't
wuth the powder. I jest wants some un tuh kick me for bein' sech a
fool as tuh think you-uns was thet bunch o' swamp-hiders!"
The speaker slid along the limb to the body of the tree and began
to make his way toward the ground.
Maurice looked at Thad, and there was perplexity in his eyes. He
understood the sly tactics of the red-headed man, and wondered
whether they would succeed in hoodwinking the sheriff and his
posse.
The question was soon answered, for hardly had the cracker reached
the ground than Sheriff Jerrold stepped up to him, that piercing
eye fastened on the ugly face of the climber.
"Yer under arrest, Jeff Corbley!" he said, making a motion to one
of the others to bind the fellow.
"Me? What fur, sheriff? I declar I jest clim' thet tree 'cause I
was skeered. I hed a squint o' yer crowd acomin' over the rise,
an' I spected 'twar them coons hustling out fur grub. They got it
in fur me, an' I jest het up ther tree quicker nor lightnin'."
But the sheriff was not so easily deceived.
"What's this yer grippin' in yer hand, Jeff? A rock big enough to
knock a man silly. Thought tuh drap in down on the head o' this
hyah youngster, didn't yuh? Easy way tuh git the upper hand o'
him, yuh spected. Shucks! Don't yuh open that mouth o' yourn tuh
say another word. We been watchin' yuh a long time, Jeff, an' this
time yah make tracks outen the county, OR PAY THE FREIGHT!"
The sheriff made a suggestive motion with his hand in the
direction of his neck. Evidently the red-headed man understood.
"Oh, I'll go, all right, sheriff. I kinder hed a sneakin' notion
fur a long time thet yuh hed it in fur me. How long do I git?" he
whined, as his hands were bound fast behind his back.
"We'll give yuh jest twelve hours arter we git tuh Morehead. Ef so
be yuh ain't outen the county by then it's touch an' go with yuh.
A hundred dollars tuh the man as draps yuh," remarked the
official, with a dreadful calmness.
"Twelve hours is a might short time tuh do it hin, sheriff; but
I'll make the try, sho. I'm sick o' this place, anyway."
"And the place are sure sick o' you, Jeff; so it's even all
'round," replied the sheriff, turning his back on Jeff.
The two boys had listened to these little pleasantries with
mingled feelings. It was really the first time they had ever been
so close to a possible tragedy, and when they found that these
grim men did not mean to hang the wretched Jeff both breathed
easier.
He had been something of a thorn in their flesh and doubtless was
an evil bird whichever way he might be looked at; still, they had
no desire to see him meet such a terrible end.
"I heard the dawgs along over there, Kurnel," remarked one of the
posse, just about this time.
The sheriff brightened up immediately. He had evidently set his
mind on the job of cleaning up the band of black thieves who had
for so long a time sheltered themselves in the swamp, and preyed
upon the neighboring planters; and the coming of the dogs promised
to add to the chances of ultimate success.
"Then we must be hiking, boys. Glad tuh have met you both, an'
wish yuh all success. If so be as yuh say, theys some good news
foh George, jest congratulate him foh me, will yuh? He's a good
feller, George is, an' has heaps o' friends hyahabouts."
He shook hands gravely with each of the boys, after which Sheriff
Jerrold started along the dimly defined road. The prisoner, Jeff,
was in the middle of the squad, and did not manifest any great
enthusiasm about hastening away; but being a victim of
circumstances he just had to run when his captors chose.
Maurice looked at his chum and laughed.
"Say, wasn't that the funniest thing ever?" he exclaimed. "Just to
think of that scamp settling himself up there among the leaves of
that tree, intending to jump us unawares!"
"Yes," observed Thad, with a shrug of his shoulders, "and he meant
to drop that big dornick on your head, because you had the gun.
Then, while I was stunned with surprise, I reckon he expected to
let go and jump me. I'm not a bit sorry that Jeff is going to get
his medicine. If ever a man's face told his character his does.
And ten to one he's a big bully, and a wife beater, at home."
"But how did you happen to get on to his trick, for it was you who
first discovered him sitting there, and told the rest?"
"Well," said Thad, reflectively. It just happened, that's all.
When you said how we ought to hold up our hands--"
"Hold on; it was you spoke about that same thing first," corrected
his chum.
"Well, you were the first to do it, and when I followed suit,
seemed as if my eyes followed my hands up like I wanted to see
that I did it the same as you. That was the luckiest thing ever,
for you see I just happened to spy him move his leg. Looked like
he was kind of afraid that he might be seen, and was hitchin'
along to get behind more leaves."
"But you didn't say anything right away, Thad?"
"Just couldn't, that's why; I was so knocked slabwise and full of
laugh. But I knew I ought to let that sheriff into the secret,
'cause he was so mighty anxious to grab some feller. So I opened
up. My! But didn't Jeff come down quick?" and now Thad chuckled
over the recollection of that hurried descent.
"He just had to; because, you see, he was afraid all the time one
of the boys might take a notion to shoot. But as the thing is all
over, suppose we shove along," suggested Maurice.
"Good. My mind is easy now, with that sneaker out of the way. What
d'ye suppose Jeff meant to do?" asked the other, as he fell in at
the side of his chum when Maurice started off.
"Rob us, that's clear. He saw that money, all right, when he
peeked in at the window of the shanty-boat, and was wild to get
it. Then, after his bully little rush when we were ashore, to find
that he had been fooled made him madder than a wet hen; and this
time he wanted to make sure."
Thad drew a long sigh, but made no answer. His thoughts were
doubtless serious enough, as he recollected that heavy stone which
Jeff had not dared drop while descending from the tree; also the
ugly look of the desperado's face.
Just as Maurice had predicted, the country began to assume a more
cheerful appearance after they had left the swamp behind. It was
not long before they came to a cabin, where the smoke was rising
above the low roof and several dirty-faced children played before
the door, where several lean hogs were grunting in the mud.
"Is this George's place?" queried Thad, in some dismay; for
somehow he had been mentally picturing a far different scene.
"I reckon not. I was told that his wife was a superior woman, who
once on a time used to teach school. She wouldn't be apt to let
her youngsters look like this, even if money was scarce. Wait up,
and I'll put the question."
Maurice approached the door. A yellow dog began to bark furiously,
the three children ran like frightened sheep, since they seldom
saw strangers there, and immediately a slatternly looking woman
with the customary thin face of the "poor white trash" of the
South made her appearance at the door.
"There's a snuff-dipper for you," said Maurice in a whisper to his
chum, as he noted the signs about the mouth of the squatter's
wife.
The woman was surveying them with wonder, and not a little awe.
"We want to find George Stormway's place; can you tell us how far
along it lies?" asked the boy, politely.
It was wonderful how her tired face brightened up. Perhaps she had
not heard such a pleasant voice for ages; and dim echoes of some
far off past had been awakened.
"Sho I kin, stranger. It be the second house 'long. Hyah, Danny,
yuh gwine tuh show these hyah gentlemen the Stormway place. Git a
move on yuh, now, er I'll peel the hide from yuh back, sho. Yuh
see," she added, turning once more to the visitors, "Danny, he's
ben over tuh take his lesson from Missus Stormway once a week. He
kin read tuh beat the band. Git erlong, Danny, an' yuh 'member
what I sez!"
Of course there was no necessity for a guide, since they were so
near their destination. Maurice believed he could understand the
motive that influenced the woman of the house--she hoped these
strangers might be liberal enough to bestow a nickel upon Danny
for his services; and possibly her stock of snuff was running low.
But they were so glad to know that the journey was nearly over
that they made no objection. Maurice believed he could spare a
nickel to square accounts.
Danny trotted on ahead. He was a shy little chap, barefooted, of
course, and with a ragged shirt and baggy trousers that had
evidently been made from a gunny-sack.
Maurice happened to have an old newspaper in his pocket, which
contained a few illustrations. It might serve the budding genius
as a means for advancing his reading abilities; and so he called
Danny back, to present it to him, at the same time also handing
over the coveted coin.
For they had passed another shack, where the squalor was even more
positive than in the former case, and come in sight of George's
home.
"Bully!" Thad could not help saying, as soon as his eager eyes
alighted on the little cabin.
Maurice understood just how he felt; indeed, he was experiencing
the same sense of relief; for the sight of filth and poverty
combined is a terrible thing.
But the Stormway cabin was different. Everywhere could be seen
evidences of a woman's hand. Flowers adorned the beds in front,
and in the rear there were vegetables calculated to give the
family many a meal.
Here, as everywhere, a couple of dogs barked in noisy greeting;
but to the boys even these yellow curs seemed of a different breed
from those guarding other shacks where poverty abounded.
And while the three children playing before the door were
barefooted and had soiled faces, still, as Thad expressed it, this
was "clean dirt," by which he meant that they undoubtedly must
have accumulated it inside of an hour or two, for there was
abundant evidence that water was freely used at this place.
Eagerly the boys waited to see what the daughter of old The.
Badgeley looked like. No woman could stand such a life of care and
want without showing the lines on her face; but when she came to
the door to see what all the racket meant, Thad just threw up his
hat and let out a genuine whoop, he was so glad.
Even in her cheap calico dress the woman showed her caliber. Dirt
and Mrs. Stormway evidently were at daggers' points, and could not
live peaceably together under the same roof. It was a relief just
to look at her face, after what they had recently seen.
And when she talked, while there was the Southern accent to some
extent, they missed that twang and peculiar type of expression so
common among the poor whites.
"This is Mrs. Stormway, I reckon?" said Maurice, as he came up.
"Yes, that is my name, sir," she replied, while her face lighted
up with some sort of expectancy.
"My name is Thad Tucker, and I'm from Kentucky, ma'am!"
"Oh! Thad Tucker! Then you are the boy father used to write about?
What on earth brings you away down here? Have you come to see me?"
She was holding his hand now, plainly excited.
A man had followed her to the door. He was white and thin, but had
a face that Maurice liked at first sight. If this was George, as
he believed, then it was worth while that they go to all this
trouble to bring him good news.
"This is my friend, Maurice Pemberton. He's from old Kentucky,
too. You see," said Thad, hardly able to phrase a connected story
in his excitement, "the folks he was livin' with broke up, and he
was left with nary a home. Now, I'd been keepin' house on the
shanty-boat old The.--I mean your father, give me when he was
carried off to the hospital. Maurice he got a letter from his
Uncle Ambrose, telling him to be in New Orleans in February, and
he'd give him a berth on the big tramp steamer he's captain of. So
Maurice and me we made up our minds to drift down South on our
shanty-boat."
"And on your way you determined to stop over and see me. How good
of you, Thad Tucker. Oh, I am so glad to see you! Now I can hear
about my poor father's passing. All I know was contained in a
short letter from the authorities of the hospital, saying he had
been taken there and died. There was money enough found on his
person to pay for burying him, but that was all. Come here,
George, I want you to meet my father's young friend, Thad Tucker.
You remember reading about him."
The thin man advanced with rather tottering steps, but a pleasant
smile on his face. Maurice wondered whether what Kim. Stallings
had said would prove true; and if this man, racked by malaria,
could regain his health if he changed his home to higher ground.
"But you see I didn't know where you were all this time, only that
it was somewhere down South. It was only the other day that, just
by some luck, I happened to be hunting a lost trap, when I found
something that told us where you lived," explained Thad, fumbling
in his pocket.
"And," went on Maurice, taking up the story where his chum
faltered, "as we were only a short distance up the river from
Morehead, we made up our minds that we must meet with Bunny."
"And give her this," with which words Thad fished out the packet
and thrust it hurriedly into the woman's hands.
"Oh, what is it?" she asked, beginning to tremble, not with fear,
but delicious eagerness and anticipation.
"Something your dad wanted to get to you. He tried to tell me
about it just when he was took, but I couldn't understand him. It
was lyin' in a hole back of the lining of the boat, and just where
he kept the few muskrat traps he owned," finished Thad.
Mrs. Stormway began to undo the string, though her hands trembled
so she could hardly make much progress. Finally George himself had
to take possession and cut the cord with a knife.
When he opened the little rusty covered diary and those beautiful
yellowback government gold notes fluttered to the ground there was
a tense silence. Both George and his wife could not believe their
eyes. Perhaps, to tell the truth, they had never before seen even
one yellowback note, and hardly understood what they were.
"There's just three hundred and thirty dollars, all in good gold
bills issued by the United States Government. And he meant it for
you, ma'am, 'cause he says so in his diary. I reckon he wanted to
fetch it down when he came in the winter; but he never made the
ripple."
While Thad was explaining in this manner George and Maurice were
picking up the precious bills. The man was so excited he could
hardly speak; but when he stood there with the little book in his
hand, he looked at his wife and she at him. Then they rushed into
each others' arms, while the boys winked hard to keep the tears
from flowing. It was an affecting sight, indeed.
"Now we can get away from here. Now we can go on a farm in the
uplands, where you will get strong and well, George. Oh, I am so
happy I hardly know what to do! And to think that father saved all
this money for me! And that you brought it to us, just when it
looked so dark that even I was beginning to be afraid!"
Before Thad knew what she meant to do George's wife was kissing
him, and George shaking his hand furiously. Maurice came in for a
second edition of the grateful couple's thanksgiving; but on the
whole both boys stood the ordeal fairly well.
"Come in and rest yourselves, my dear boys. You have brought me
blessed news today, and I shall never forget it; never. You must
stay over night with us, because there is so much I want to know
about him. We haven't much to offer you in the way of food, but
George here can borrow Captain Peek's mule and go to the store for
things."
"Not for us," said Maurice, decidedly; "we will be only too glad
to stop over with you one night, since you insist, for, of course,
there is lots my chum can tell you. And, by the way, Mr. Stallings
sent this package to Mrs. Stormway. I think it's got some coffee
in anyhow, for we smelled it. He knew we had some good news for
you, and wanted to say that he was mighty glad George would have a
chance to pull up stakes and get out of this lowland."
Pages:
1 |
2 |
3 |
4 |
5 |
6 |
7 |
8 | 9 |
10 |
11