The Launch Boys' Adventures in Northern Waters by Edward Sylvester Ellis (best fiction novels of all time .txt) 📕

to see it when they looked back, the _Water Witch_ came gently to rest, the waiting Chester sprang ashore with a line in hand and made fast.


CHAPTER XXIV

BAD FOR MIKE MURPHY

When Gerald Buxton's shotgun was fired by him, and the report rang out in the still night, it awoke several persons, who wondered what it meant. No one gave the matter further thought, however, until an old lady, facing the main street, looked through her bedroom window and saw the citizen chasing his boy, who toted a gun over his shoulder. At the first streakings of daylight she hurried to the Buxton home for the explanation. Within the following half hour the majority of the population of Beartown knew that an attempt had been made to rob the post office during the night. Then followed a hurrying thither, for no one could be satisfied until he had viewed the scene and talked with the postmistress herself.

It was the confusion and hurly-burly below stairs that awoke Mike Murphy early. He would have left at once to join Alvin and Chester if Nora had not forced him to eat breakfast before bidding them good-by. It must be said that the Irish youth did not require much urging to detain him that long.

He found he was attracting unpleasant attention. It was Nora who took pains to let it be known that but for him all the money in the safe would have been stolen. Mr. Jasper, the owner of the large sum, scrambled through the crowd, snatched up his big envelope and hurried off without so much as thanking Mike, who cared naught.

"You needn't tell me," said the keeper of the other grocery store to the husband of the town milliner. "That redheaded Irish chap is one of the gang."

"How do you account for his preventing the other robber from carrying away the money in the safe?" asked his neighbor.

"Plain enough; they'd had a quarrel. He wanted it all for himself."

"Why didn't he take it then?"

"The widder and others bounced down on him afore he had the chance."

"I don't see why if the other villain run away this one didn't do likewise."

"He'll do it quick enough, never you fear."

"Why is he hanging round after they've gone?"

"To git the money. Seems to me, Rufe, you're blamed stupid this morning. Why, you've only to take one look at that young ruffian's face to see the wickedness wrote there. He oughter be in prison this very minute, and he'll soon be there--take my word for it!"

"Where is he?"

"Sneaked off while he had the chance--wal, I'll be gul darned!"

The grinning Mike Murphy was standing at his elbow, where he had heard every word of the pointed conversation. The gossip was so taken aback that he began stammering:

"I had--that is, I was thinking of the other robber."

"I was told," said Mike, "that there was a man hereabouts that looked so much like me he must be my lost brither that was let out of jail in Boston a fortnight since. I've found him and begs the privilege of shaking his hand."

And he caught the limp fingers of the gaping fellow and squeezed them hard, while he continued to gape and say nothing.

Since this unpleasant person bore not the slightest resemblance to the youth, being pale and effeminate looking, those who stood near broke into laughter. Mike turned about, and having bidden good-by to mother and daughter, passed into the street and turned down the road leading to the landing.

The hour was early and the fog of which I have spoken was beginning to creep over the village and through the woods. He kept his bearings, and when near the river plunged in among the trees to find the _Deerfoot_, remembering where she was moored the night before.

Some hours earlier Alvin Landon and Chester Haynes had boarded the _Water Witch_, never doubting that it was the _Deerfoot_, and started down the river. Consequently Mike could not make the same mistake, and came straight to the launch with which he was familiar. Standing for a brief period on the bank he looked admiringly at it.

"Where are the byes?" was the first question he asked himself, as a glance told him he had arrived ahead of them. "I wonder now if they have strayed off in the woods, where they may wander about like the two lost babes and be niver heerd of agin."

Not doubting that they would soon show up, he sat down on the velvety ground to await them. By and by he became drowsy. The previous night had been so broken that he had not gained half the sleep he needed. It was natural, therefore, after his generous breakfast, that he should be inclined to slumber. Rousing up, he reflected:

"If I fall asleep here, the byes may not obsarve me and sail away and leave me behind. I shouldn't mind that so much wid only a quarter of a dollar in me pocket, fur I could go back to Nora and her mother and spind the rest of me days. But the Captain and second mate would graive themselves to death, and that would make me feel bad."

Throwing off his drowsiness, he rose to his feet, reached out one hand and sprang lightly aboard the boat. Seats, cushions, flags, everything was as they had left it the night before. He sat down on one seat, rested his feet upon another and settled himself for a good nap, indifferent as to how long it should last.

"When they come they will obsarve that I'm sweetly draaming, and will respict me enough to refrain from disturbing me, as Bobbie Burns used to say whin he lay down beside the road late at night on his way home."

His posture was so comfortable that his head soon bowed and he drifted into the land of dreams. His first essay was not so successful as he hoped it would be, for by and by the nodding head tipped too far forward, and he sprawled on his face. His first confused fancy was that he had been lying in his trundle bed at Tipperary with his cousin Garry Murphy.

"Arrah, now, what do ye maan by kicking me out on the floor, ye spalpeen? Whin I git me eyes open I'll taich ye better manners," he called, climbing carefully to his feet. After a brief spell he recalled the situation. His first fear was that the Captain and second mate had returned and witnessed his tumble, but looking around, he saw nothing of them. The mooring line lay looped around the base of the spruce and the launch was motionless.

Soon after, two persons came stealing their way among the trees, feeling each step like a couple of Indian scouts entering a hostile camp. They were Kit Woodford, leader of the post office burglars, and his young companion Graff Miller. You remember they acted as lookouts, while the third was busy inside. They had fled like the cowards they were on the first sign of danger, had managed to find each other and then set out to flee in their launch. What had become of "Nox" they did not know or care. He must do as they had done--save himself or go unsaved.

A shock of astonishment came to the miscreants when they reached the place where the _Water Witch_ was moored the night before, only to discover that it had vanished. To the alarmed ruffians there was but the one explanation: the men who had interfered with the work at the post office had learned of the launch and run off with it.

"This is a rum go!" was the disgusted exclamation of Woodford. "I thought we should have an easy thing of it, but we've got to turn back inland. We shouldn't have any trouble, though it looks to me as if we shall have to part company."

The younger man was not favorably impressed at first, but a moment's reflection convinced him that this was one of the situations in which the proverb, "In union there is strength," did not hold good. Two persons trying together to make their way out of the neighborhood without drawing suspicion would be in more danger than one. So he said:

"All right; I will go down stream."

He moved away from his companion, who held his place for a brief while, still reflecting whether his plan was the better one after all. He was turning over the problem in his mind, when he caught the sound of a guarded whistle. It was a familiar call from his companion and he did not hesitate to follow it. Only a little way off he paused with an exclamation of astonishment.

There was the swift launch _Deerfoot_ moored against the bank so near the place where the _Water Witch_ had been left that it is no wonder that Alvin Landon and Chester Haynes failed to notice the difference of location. Not only that, but one of the youths belonging to the boat was seated near the stern with head bowed as if asleep.

What could the amazing fact mean? Woodford's first thought was that a trap had been set for them. More than likely the seeming slumber on the part of the motionless figure was a pretence, and meant to tempt them to come out into the open.

"What do you make of it?" whispered Graff Miller.

"Some deviltry you may be sure; the others are near by."

They stealthily withdrew deeper into the wood and watched and listened, but nothing occurred to cause alarm. Then a sudden resolution came to the elder.

"So long as there's only one, let's make him prisoner."

"I'm willing," assented the other.

As silently as two shadows, they stole to the edge of the water. Woodford deftly cast off the bow line and, leaning over, gently laid it on the deck. Then they stepped aboard and Miller took up the boathook, pressed it against the bank and the launch began moving away. When the boathook could be used no longer, it was softly laid down and the younger man took his place at the wheel. He understood the running of the launch better than his companions and generally acted as pilot.

"Shall I start?" he asked, in a guarded voice.

The other nodded. Miller slipped the switch plug in place, started the motor and put on the power, with just enough force to set the screw slowly revolving. He headed out in the river, where, because of the fog, he could barely see the flagstaff at the bow, and began a wide sweeping circle with the intention of descending the stream.

And still Mike Murphy dreamed on.

Now that the boat was under way with the screw revolving faster, Kit Woodford stepped closer to the sleeping youth and looked at his face. When he recognized him as the belligerent Irish lad, his feelings underwent a sudden change. He knew something of the sleeper and decided on the instant that he was _persona non grata_. While one of the other boys might have been held with some vague idea of being used as a hostage, this one would make more trouble aboard than on land.

Without a word as to his purpose to his companion, Kit Woodford stooped over, and with the great strength he possessed, easily lifted the sleeping boy clear of the deck. Then he cautiously moved to the taffrail, and with a single toss flung Mike Murphy clear of the launch.