CHAPTER XXIV
BAD FOR MIKE MURPHY
When Gerald Buxton's shotgun was fired by him, and the report rang out inthe still night, it awoke several persons, who wondered what it meant. Noone gave the matter further thought, however, until an old lady, facingthe main street, looked through her bedroom window and saw the citizenchasing his boy, who toted a gun over his shoulder. At the firststreakings of daylight she hurried to the Buxton home for theexplanation. Within the following half hour the majority of thepopulation of Beartown knew that an attempt had been made to rob the postoffice during the night. Then followed a hurrying thither, for no onecould be satisfied until he had viewed the scene and talked with thepostmistress herself.
It was the confusion and hurly-burly below stairs that awoke Mike Murphyearly. He would have left at once to join Alvin and Chester if Nora hadnot forced him to eat breakfast before bidding them good-by. It must besaid that the Irish youth did not require much urging to detain him thatlong.
He found he was attracting unpleasant attention. It was Nora who tookpains to let it be known that but for him all the money in the safe wouldhave been stolen. Mr. Jasper, the owner of the large sum, scrambledthrough the crowd, snatched up his big envelope and hurried off withoutso much as thanking Mike, who cared naught.
"You needn't tell me," said the keeper of the other grocery store to thehusband of the town milliner. "That redheaded Irish chap is one of thegang."
"How do you account for his preventing the other robber from carryingaway 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 dolikewise."
"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 thewickedness wrote there. He oughter be in prison this very minute, andhe'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 heardevery word of the pointed conversation. The gossip was so taken abackthat 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 somuch like me he must be my lost brither that was let out of jail inBoston a fortnight since. I've found him and begs the privilege ofshaking his hand."
And he caught the limp fingers of the gaping fellow and squeezed themhard, while he continued to gape and say nothing.
Since this unpleasant person bore not the slightest resemblance to theyouth, being pale and effeminate looking, those who stood near broke intolaughter. Mike turned about, and having bidden good-by to mother anddaughter, passed into the street and turned down the road leading to thelanding.
The hour was early and the fog of which I have spoken was beginning tocreep over the village and through the woods. He kept his bearings, andwhen 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 _WaterWitch_, never doubting that it was the _Deerfoot_, and started down theriver. Consequently Mike could not make the same mistake, and camestraight to the launch with which he was familiar. Standing for a briefperiod on the bank he looked admiringly at it.
"Where are the byes?" was the first question he asked himself, as aglance told him he had arrived ahead of them. "I wonder now if they havestrayed off in the woods, where they may wander about like the two lostbabes and be niver heerd of agin."
Not doubting that they would soon show up, he sat down on the velvetyground to await them. By and by he became drowsy. The previous night hadbeen so broken that he had not gained half the sleep he needed. It wasnatural, therefore, after his generous breakfast, that he should beinclined to slumber. Rousing up, he reflected:
"If I fall asleep here, the byes may not obsarve me and sail away andleave me behind. I shouldn't mind that so much wid only a quarter of adollar in me pocket, fur I could go back to Nora and her mother and spindthe rest of me days. But the Captain and second mate would graivethemselves to death, and that would make me feel bad."
Throwing off his drowsiness, he rose to his feet, reached out one handand sprang lightly aboard the boat. Seats, cushions, flags, everythingwas as they had left it the night before. He sat down on one seat, restedhis feet upon another and settled himself for a good nap, indifferent asto how long it should last.
"When they come they will obsarve that I'm sweetly draaming, and willrespict me enough to refrain from disturbing me, as Bobbie Burns used tosay 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 driftedinto the land of dreams. His first essay was not so successful as hehoped 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 hadbeen 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 thesituation. His first fear was that the Captain and second mate hadreturned and witnessed his tumble, but looking around, he saw nothing ofthem. The mooring line lay looped around the base of the spruce and thelaunch was motionless.
Soon after, two persons came stealing their way among the trees, feelingeach step like a couple of Indian scouts entering a hostile camp. Theywere Kit Woodford, leader of the post office burglars, and his youngcompanion Graff Miller. You remember they acted as lookouts, while thethird was busy inside. They had fled like the cowards they were on thefirst sign of danger, had managed to find each other and then set out toflee 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 theplace where the _Water Witch_ was moored the night before, only todiscover that it had vanished. To the alarmed ruffians there was but theone explanation: the men who had interfered with the work at the postoffice had learned of the launch and run off with it.
"This is a rum go!" was the disgusted exclamation of Woodford. "I thoughtwe should have an easy thing of it, but we've got to turn back inland. Weshouldn't have any trouble, though it looks to me as if we shall have topart company."
The younger man was not favorably impressed at first, but a moment'sreflection convinced him that this was one of the situations in which theproverb, "In union there is strength," did not hold good. Two personstrying together to make their way out of the neighborhood without drawingsuspicion 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 wasturning over the problem in his mind, when he caught the sound of aguarded whistle. It was a familiar call from his companion and he did nothesitate to follow it. Only a little way off he paused with anexclamation of astonishment.
There was the swift launch _Deerfoot_ moored against the bank so near theplace where the _Water Witch_ had been left that it is no wonder thatAlvin Landon and Chester Haynes failed to notice the difference oflocation. Not only that, but one of the youths belonging to the boat wasseated near the stern with head bowed as if asleep.
What could the amazing fact mean? Woodford's first thought was that atrap had been set for them. More than likely the seeming slumber
on thepart of the motionless figure was a pretence, and meant to tempt them tocome 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 theelder.
"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. Woodforddeftly cast off the bow line and, leaning over, gently laid it on thedeck. Then they stepped aboard and Miller took up the boathook, pressedit against the bank and the launch began moving away. When the boathookcould be used no longer, it was softly laid down and the younger man tookhis place at the wheel. He understood the running of the launch betterthan 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 themotor and put on the power, with just enough force to set the screwslowly 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 sweepingcircle 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, KitWoodford stepped closer to the sleeping youth and looked at his face.When he recognized him as the belligerent Irish lad, his feelingsunderwent a sudden change. He knew something of the sleeper and decidedon the instant that he was _persona non grata_. While one of the otherboys might have been held with some vague idea of being used as ahostage, this one would make more trouble aboard than on land.
Without a word as to his purpose to his companion, Kit Woodford stoopedover, and with the great strength he possessed, easily lifted thesleeping boy clear of the deck. Then he cautiously moved to the taffrail,and with a single toss flung Mike Murphy clear of the launch. And thewater was fifty feet deep, and Mike had never swum a stroke, and therewas no one to go to his help.