The Launch Boys' Adventures in Northern Waters by Edward Sylvester Ellis (acx book reading TXT) 📖

above the structure, belonging to Westport, slopes to the right, and something like a half mile above, this course is at right angles to the stream. It is really a peninsula, there being an inlet more than a mile long which divides it from the rest of Westport. This little bay is spanned by a bridge which forms a part of the highway that passes over the longer structure already referred to.

When Mike found the _Water Witch_ had vanished, he pretended to be vastly relieved. He had dropped into his chair and now straightened up.

"But ain't we lucky?"

"Why so?" asked Calvert.

"If we hadn't been stopped at the bridge the ither boat might have broke down and we'd come up wid the same, and those chaps would have give us all a good spanking."

"I am glad you are becoming so prudent," said Calvert, with an approving nod. "We must take Michael with us whenever we are likely to run into danger. Captain, if you don't mind, you might tune up your boat a bit."

"Better wait," suggested Mike, "fur ye might gain on t'other one."

Alvin now put on the highest speed of which the _Deerfoot_ was capable. The bow rose, the stern settled down in the water, and the spray was flung high and splashed against the wind-shield. The exhaust deepened to a steady roar, and the broadening wake was churned into a mass of tumbling soapy foam. The whole boat shivered with the vibration of the powerful engine. She was going more than twenty miles an hour--in fact, must have approached her limit, which was four miles faster. Alvin had attained such a tremendous pace only a few times in his practice and did not like it. Though his instructor had assured him that the launch was capable of holding it indefinitely without injury, he feared a breakdown or the unnecessary wear upon many parts of the engine.

He kept up the furious speed until they curved around the upper part of the peninsula and saw the expansion above, all the way to Long Ledge, where Back River begins. He had been confident of catching sight of the _Water Witch_, but she was nowhere in sight.

The natural conclusion was that the launch had taken on a higher burst of speed--probably the limit--and gone so far that by still keeping near the shore she had placed several miles behind her--enough to carry her out of the field of vision.

"Keep it up till we catch sight of her again," suggested Calvert. "I believe there are no more bridges between us and Wiscasset."

Some three or four miles were passed at high speed, when they reached a portion of the river which opened a view of still greater extent. They saw two small sailboats at a distance, and a little steamer puffing northward, but nothing of the _Water Witch_.

"You may as well slow down," remarked the detective, who, guarding a match with his hands behind the wind-shield, proceeded to light another cigar.

"What do you make of it?" asked Alvin, turning his head, as the pace became slower than before.

"We have passed the other boat; she is behind us instead of in front."

"What shall we do?"

"For hiven's sake don't go back," protested Mike. "Ye might find her--and then what would become of ye?"

The detective now gave his view of the situation.

"If we should turn round and find that boat, those on board would know we were looking for them. We don't wish to give that impression, at least for some time to come. While we were going in one direction and they in another, they challenged us to a race. Any two boats might have done the same in the circumstances. We have to accept defeat and that's all there is to it."

Calvert looked at his watch.

"It is near noon; if you all feel as I do you would welcome a good dinner."

"That's the most sensible sense that I've heerd since we started," remarked Mike, who was as hungry as his companions.

"It is not a long run to Wiscasset," said Alvin; "and there's more than one good hotel there."

"I'm thinking that at the speed ye're going, we'll hardly arrive in time for supper. There must be some place betwixt here and the town where we can git enough to stay the pangs of starvation till we raich Wiscasset."

"We shall pass several landings, and there are farmhouses along shore where I'm sure the folks will be glad to accommodate us."

The others were not much impressed with Mike's plan, but since there was plenty of time at their command, they fell in with it. Alvin suggested that all should keep a lookout for an inviting dwelling, when, if a good landing could be made, they would stop and investigate.

Chester offered to relieve his chum at the wheel, and Alvin was quite willing to exchange places with him. The occurrences of the last hour or more, together with what was said by Detective Calvert, had increased the confidence of the youths in him. True, they could not understand the full object of this cruise up the river, after gaining sight of the launch and the occupants for whom he had been searching. They were content to await explanation on that point, but Alvin determined that one or two things which puzzled him and Chester should be cleared up.

"Accepting what you said last night at my home, Mr. Calvert, I must say for myself and friend that we do not understand some of your actions. Perhaps you won't mind explaining them."

"I shall be glad to do so, if it is prudent at this time."

"You will pardon me for saying that in our opinion you acted foolishly when you followed us off the steamer the other day at Sawyer Island, pretended you had made a mistake in landing there, and then dogged us to that little inlet. We saw you several times, but you either wished or pretended you wished to keep out of our sight, as, for instance, after crossing that long bridge from Hodgdon to Barter Island. You followed us, but when we stopped at the side of the road to wait for you, you slipped among the trees and made a circuit round the spot. Why did you do that?"

The detective smiled, and smoked a minute or two before replying.

"Perhaps it was undignified, though a man in my profession has to do a good many things in which he casts dignity to the winds. The truth is, I formed the intention of getting off at Sawyer as soon as I heard your friend Mr. Richards say he thought he had caught sight of your launch in that cove. I was trying to get track of the same parties, but prudence whispered to me that the time had not yet come in which you and I should hitch up together. I suspected it might soon be advisable, but not just then. My pretence of having left at the wrong landing was a piece of foolishness meant only to afford you and the agent a little amusement, but I feared you would run into trouble with those criminals and I decided to keep you under my eye. Until I concluded to trust you, it was just as well that you should distrust me. For several reasons, which I won't explain at this point, I came to the belief last night that it was time we made common cause."


CHAPTER VI

A WARM RECEPTION

"I have me eye on the right place, as Father Mickle said whin he wint into the saloon to pull out Jim Gerrigan by the nape of his neck."

Mike Murphy pointed to a small, faded yellow house which stood at the top of a gentle slope on their right. It was a hundred yards from the river and a faintly marked, winding path led from it down to the bank. The surrounding land showed meagre cultivation, and the looks were anything but inviting.

On the little porch sat a big man with grizzled whiskers, smoking a brier-wood pipe, his beamlike legs crossed and his arms folded as he moodily watched the launch.

"It strikes me as a poor promise," remarked Alvin, who, nevertheless, asked Chester to steer to the shore to see whether a landing could be readily made. The prospect was good, as a shaky framework had evidently been placed there for use, though no small boat was near.

Chester brought the _Deerfoot_ alongside with the skill that the owner of the launch would have shown. Alvin sprang lightly upon the structure, which sagged under his weight, caught the rope tossed to him by Chester, and fastened it around one of the rickety supports. The boat was made fast.

"I'll walk up to the house and have a talk with the gintleman," said Mike, stepping carefully out upon the boards. "Do I look hungry?" he asked of Alvin, who replied:

"You always have that expression."

"I'm glad to hear it, fur I wish to impriss the gintleman that that's my condition. I'll assoom a weak, hisitating walk. Do ye abide here aginst me return and repoort."

Detective Calvert retained his seat and lighted another cigar. Chester sat with his hand idly resting on the wheel. Alvin kept his place on the tiny dock, and all three watched Mike Murphy. They smiled, for the stooping shoulders of the Irish youth and his feeble gait were those of a man of four-score. The huge stranger sat like a statue, slowly puffing his pipe, his glowering eyes fixed on the approaching lad.

With each advancing step, Mike's doubts increased. The nearer he came to the stranger, the more forbidding he appeared. Had the lad followed his inclination he would have turned back, but he knew his friends were watching him. Besides which, he was really hungry.

He had passed half the distance between the boat and the house, scrutinizing the scowling fellow all the time, when the latter made his first movement. He uncrossed his huge legs, took the pipe from between his lips and emitted a low whistle.

"He must be so cheered at sight of me that he is obleeged to give exprission to his feelings--Begorra!"

Around the end of the house dashed a mongrel dog, and halting abruptly with pricked ears, glanced at his master to hear his command. The canine was of moderate size, black and white in color, one eye wrapped about by an inky splash of hair that made him look as if the organ was in mourning.

Holding the pipe away from his lips, the man pointed the stem toward Mike, who had paused, and said to his dog:

"Sick him, Nick! Sick him!"

And the dog proceeded to "go for" the caller. Had the latter run away, the brute would have been at his heels, nipping and biting at each step. But Mike had no thought of retreating. He was filled with anger at his inhospitable reception and gave his whole attention to the animal, which with a muttered growl charged full speed at him.

Mike noticed that a collar with projecting spikes encircled the stumpy neck, and never was one of his breed more eager to bury his teeth in a victim's anatomy.

"This is going to be a shindy sure, as Micky Rooney said when he tackled five p'licemen--and I haven't even a shillaleh in hand."

Mike coolly braced himself for the shock, not yielding an inch nor turning his gaze from his foe. It