CHAPTER XXX
A THROUGH TICKET TO HOME
There it was in plain sight, rising like a giant nosegay of emerald fromthe crystalline water. It was barely two acres in extent, and, likenearly all islands great and small in southern Maine, the firs, pines andspruce grew to the very edge of the water. It reminded one of the patchesof green earth in Europe where the frugal owners do not allow a squareinch to go to waste.
"I don't see anything of the _Deerfoot_," said Calvert in a guarded voiceto Noxon.
"We always lay to on the other side. Keep down!"
It was wise advice, though not needed. The two crouched so low in theircrowded quarters that a person a hundred feet away would not have seenthem. Each instinctively felt of his hip pocket. The little weapon wasthere.
The officers had now to depend upon Noxon, who for the time was directorof the enterprise. He could make himself heard over his shoulder withoutdrawing attention to himself, provided he was under the eye of his oldassociates. He was never more alert.
Veering to the right, where there was a hundred yards of clear waterbetween the islet and the mainland, he slowed down and began graduallycircling the exuberant patch of earth. It will be remembered that he hadbeen there before and knew the habits of Woodford and Miller. By and by,he had glided far enough to bring the western shore into his field ofvision. Before that moment he had discerned the stern and flagstaff of alaunch. A second glance told him the truth, which he cautiously madeknown to the crouching forms behind him:
"The _Deerfoot_ is there! Don't stir till I give the word!"
Neither of the criminals was in sight, but it was evident they were near,else the launch would not be lying where it was. Noxon gave a series oftoots with his whistle, though the noise of the exhaust must have beennoted before. In response, Kit Woodford and Graff Miller came out fromamong the trees, halted at the side of the launch and stared at the_Water Witch_ and its single occupant.
Could they believe their eyes? They saw before them their own boat andthe young man whom they had cowardly deserted in his extremity. What wasthe explanation to be?
By this time the parties were so near that they could talk with only aslight raise in their voices. Kit Woodford was the first to open hismouth. With a profane expletive expressing his surprise, he demanded:
"Where did you come from?"
It was on the tongue of Noxon to make a biting reply, but he did notforget the part he had to play.
"I found this boat at the wharf at Beartown and thought I'd hunt you up.How came you to have _that_ launch?"
"Some one had run off with ours and left that. So we made a trade and Irather think we got the best of the bargain. I don't understand how ourswas found by you."
"Maybe the owners of that wanted to trade back. I say, Kit, I would liketo know something--why did you and Graff run off and leave me behind?"
"We didn't!" replied Woodford, with virtuous indignation. "Me and Graffhunted high and low for you and made up our minds you had run offyourself with the swag."
"A fine lot of swag I had, when I had to scoot just after I got the safeopen."
While this snatch of conversation was going on, Noxon, who had cut offthe power, was edging nearer. Calvert and Hagan squeezed each other sohard that it looked as if they would push themselves through the hull ofthe launch.
Graff Miller now put in his oar:
"If we didn't get a haul out of the measly post office we've scooped amighty fine motor boat. We can sell it and gather in enough to last ustill we crack another place."
"That won't be as easy as it looks to you. The whole neighborhood is upin arms and we shall have to lie low for awhile."
"Well, we've got enough to keep us a week or so----_Nox, there's somebodyin the boat with you_!" exclaimed Miller, who that instant caught sightof the head of one of the crouching men. The craft was now so close thatconcealment was impossible. In fact, in the same moment that the _WaterWitch_ gently bumped against the other boat, Stockham Calvert and WarnerHagan straightened up and bounded across upon the _Deerfoot_. Eachgrasped a revolver, and Calvert shouted:
"Hands up, or I'll let daylight through you."
The terrified Woodford turned to run, but a bullet whistled past his ear.Perhaps too he realized in that frightful instant that no place of refugeawaited him. The island was too small to allow him to hide himself. Heabruptly halted on the edge of the wood, and facing about sullenly raisedhis hands.
As for Graff Miller he did not attempt to get away. Accepting the orderaddressed to his leader as applying to himself, he stood stock still andseemed to be doing the best he could to keep the sky from falling on him.
Knowing that Hagan would look after him, Calvert gave his whole attentionto Woodford. Keeping his revolver presented, he crossed the narrow deckof the _Deerfoot_ and dropped lightly to the ground. A few steps took himto the cowardly ruffian. Never lowering his weapon, he ran the other handover the outside of the man's clothing and twitched a revolver from hiship pocket.
"That will do, Christopher; if you now feel an inclination to lower yourdirty hands, you have my permission to do so. Perhaps it will not tireyou quite so much."
Hardly had he complied when a sharp click sounded. So quickly that itlooked like a piece of magic a pair of handcuffs were snapped upon themiscreant, and Hagan was only a few seconds later in doing the same withhis prisoner.
The capture of the two was so easy that it suggested a farce.
"If you had only put up a fight, Kit, it would have been a good deal moreinteresting," said Calvert, "but you always were one of the biggestcowards that ever made a bluff at being a bad man. Get a move on you!"
As meekly as a lamb the prisoner stepped upon the nearest launch, and, asordered, seated himself on one of the seats at the stern.
"Do you want me to go there too?" humbly asked Graff Miller.
"Of course; step lively."
Calvert explained what was to be done. The handcuffed prisoners were tobe taken to Wiscasset on the _Deerfoot_, their captors bearing themcompany. In that city they would be locked up, and every step thatfollowed would be strictly in accordance with law.
Noxon was to trail after the launch in the _Water Witch_. There was morethan one reason for this arrangement. Since both boats were capable ofmaking good speed, it was better than to have one tow the other. If the_Water Witch's_ gasoline gave out, the _Deerfoot_ could take it in tow,but this would not be done unless the necessity arose.
The separation of Noxon from his former associates would prevent anunpleasant scene. Kit Woodford and Graff Miller could not fail to seethat Noxon had given them into the hands of the officers. While they werepowerless to harm the young man, they could make it uncomfortable for himdespite the restraining presence of Calvert and Hogan.
It is safe to say that none of the steamers and other boats encounteredon that memorable voyage up stream suspected the meaning of what theysaw. One launch was gliding evenly up the river with a second closelyresembling it a hundred yards or more to the rear. In the latter sat ayoung man. In the former were four persons, two of whom had been engagedfor weeks in robbing post offices in the State of Maine. No one observedthat they wore handcuffs, or dreamed that the man handling the wheel wasa famous detective. In this case he was Calvert, who had a fair knowledgeof running a motor boat.
The prisoners were sullen and silent for most of the way. Hagan, seatedbehind Calvert, could protect him from any treacherous attack with thehandcuffs. The detective was too wise to invite an assault of thatnature.
When a turn in the course brought the long Wiscasset bridge in sight withthe pretty town on the left, Kit Woodford turned his head and looked backat the young man who was guiding the other launch.
"What are you going to do with _him_?" he asked, with a black scowl.
"Nothing," replied Hagan.
"Why haven't you got the bracelets on him?"
"He has done us too valuable service. That isn't the way we reward ourfriends."
Calvert, who had overheard the words, looked round.
"We may need his evidence to land you and Graff in Atlanta."
The remark was so illuminating that the prisoner said never a word. Theoccasion was one of those in which language falls short of doing justiceto the emotions of the persons chiefly involved. It was Graff Miller whosnarled with a smothered rage which it is hard to picture:
"I'll get even with him if I have to wait ten years."
"You'll have to wait all of that and probably longer," said Calvert, "andby that time I don't think Orestes Noxon will care much what you try todo."
The detective pronounced the name with emphasis, to learn whether itattracted any notice. It did not so far as he could judge, whereat he wasglad.
The criminals were put behind bars, and the young man strolled throughthe street to the railway station. On the way, the elder said:
"It looks to me as if you have a clear title to the _Water Witch_. Whatdo you wish to do with it?"
"Sell it to someone so I shall never see it again."
"If you will turn the boat over to me I think I can dispose of it foryou. Have you any price in mind?"
"Sell the launch for whatever you can get, if it isn't more thantwenty-three cents."
"All right; I'll fix it. Here is the railway office. You have enoughfunds?"
"Plenty. I shall a buy a through ticket to--_home_."
"Of course. I shall call upon you this autumn. Good-by, Horace."
"Good-by to one of the best friends I ever had. God bless you!"
CHAPTER XXXI
GATHERING UP THE RAVELLED THREADS
The records show that not long ago there were a number of post officerobberies among the towns and villages in that section of Maine to whichsome attention has been given in the preceding pages. Not all the guiltyparties were captured, but we know of two, or rather three, who werecaught in the toils. Two of them, Kit Woodford and Graff Miller, wereconvicted in the United States Court at Portland, for, to use a commonexpression, they were caught with the goods on them, and sentenced tolong terms in the Atlanta penitentiary. There they are sure to stay foran indefinite time to come, provided they are not soon released onparole, or pardoned on the ground of poor health. Let us hope for betterthings.
During the trial of the criminals inquiries were heard for the thirdmember of the gang, but he seemed to have vanished as completely as ifthe earth had opened and swallowed him. Possibly the Judge learned allthe facts from Detective Calvert and saw that justice would be bestserved by winking at the youth's offence. Moreover, an officer of the lawcannot be punished for the escape of a prisoner unless gross carelessnessor collusion is proved, which was not easy in the case named. Be that asit may, Orestes Noxon no longer exists. In his place rises another youngman, "redeemed and disenthralled"--a brand plucked from the burning. Thegrandest work of our penal institution is that of reforming instead ofwreaking revenge upon the erring ones. It certainly proved so in theinstance named. The parents of the youth knew he had strayed from thenarrow path, but it will be a long time before they learn how far hiswayward footsteps led him. There is no need of their ever knowing thepainful truth. Detective Calvert simply told the grateful father that hisboy had gotten into bad company, but the error could never be repeated,nor can I believe it ever will be.
One day Gideon Landon, the wealthy banker and capitalist of New York,received a characteristic letter from his son Alvin. He said his motorboat _Deerfoot_ had been housed for the winter, there to remain untilnext summer, and he and Chester Haynes had had the time of their lives,for which they could never thank the kind parent enough. The son meant toprove his gratitude by acts instead of words, for he intended to buckledown to hard work and not rest until he was through West Point and hadbecome General of the United States Army. He added:
"And now, my dear father, I want you to do a favor or two for me, Chester and Mike Murphy, who is one of the best fellows that ever lived. Some time I shall tell you all our experience after you left the bungalow on Southport Island. I know you will agree with what I say.
"Please send to 'Uncle Ben Trotwood,' Trevett, on Hodgdon Island, Boothbay Township, Maine, a big lot of fine smoking tobacco. While you are about it you may as well make it half a ton, more or less. In his old age, he doesn't do much else but smoke, eat, sleep, and talk bass, but he was very kind to Chester and me. He kept us overnight and fed us, and was insulted when we wished to pay him." (No reference was made to Uncle Ben's frugal wife.)
The genial old man would never have solved the mystery of the arrival ofthe big consignment of the weed had it not been accompanied by a letterfrom the two boys in which all was made clear.
(Another paragraph from Alvin's communication to his father.)
"In the little town or village of Beartown live the sweetest mother and daughter in the State of Maine. Anyhow, there is none kinder and more loving. The name of the daughter, who isn't out of short dresses yet, is Nora Friestone. Send her a fine first class piano--no second-hand one--with about a bushel of music. Select any stuff you choose, not forgetting a copy of 'The Sweet Long Ago,' published by C. W. Thompson, Boston. I wish you could have heard Mike Murphy sing that for them. He has one of the finest voices in the world. If he would only study and cultivate it, he would be a second Caruso. I will send an explanatory letter to Mrs. Friestone, so you needn't bother to write her."
And the Steinway duly reached its destination. Mother and daughter wereoverwhelmed. They would have insisted that a tremendous mistake had beenmade had not a letter reached them at the same time from the bungalow.This was signed by Chester Haynes, Mike Murphy and Alvin Landon. Itbegged Miss Nora to accept the present as a token of their appreciationof the hospitality received by them, and in memory of an interestingnight they had spent in the Friestone home not long before. Nora wroteone of the most delightful replies that goodness and innocence could pen,and assured the donors that the prayers of her mother and herself wouldfollow the three as long as mother and daughter lived.
(Another paragraph from Alvin's communication to his father.)
"You must understand that the expense of these presents, including that which follows, is borne by you and Mr. Haynes. He knew all about them and is as ardent as we. He says he is sure you will be as glad as he to help in so good a cause.
"One more trifling gift and I shall be through. About a half mile from Beartown lives a poor Irish day laborer known to every one as Tam McCaffry. Chester and I did not have the pleasure of meeting him, but Mike spent some time at his home, where his big, jolly wife proved herself the soul of hospitality. She is Irish through and through. Mr. Calvert saw her and says the great attraction of the woman, aside from her natural goodness, is that she is the only person he has yet met who in the way of repartee and wit could give Mike as good as he sent. It was a treat to hear the two spar, and Mike admitted that he had met his match.
"Send her a pianola. Her hands are too big and untrained to master the keys of a piano, but there is nothing the matter with her feet, which is all she needs to work one of those contrivances. Don't forget to include a whole lot of music, which should be of the Irish vintage, such as Moore's melodies, 'Sweet Mavoureen,' 'The Rocky Road to Dublin,' 'St. Patrick's Day in the Morning,' 'Rory O'Moore,' and so on. Be sure that the expense is prepaid all the way to the McCaffry door. Mike is specially interested in this present and contributes more than both of us, for he gives his all, the same being twenty-five cents, and to him we have assigned the duty of explaining things to the good woman."
Alvin had his father well trained, and he cheerfully granted everyrequest of his son. He smiled and remarked to his wife after reading theletter to her:
"Alvin has never caused us an hour of anxiety. He would not ask thesethings without good reason. I shall give orders when I go to the officethat everything he wishes shall be done."
"That was rather nice on the part of Mr. Haynes to say what he did ofyou, G
ideon."
"Yes, Franklin hasn't anything mean in his nature."
"Don't you think it a pity that while his boy and ours are so fond ofeach other their fathers are not on speaking terms?"
"Perhaps so, but there must always be two persons to a quarrel."
"And you are one of them in this case. I mean to call on Sophia this veryday."
"Haynes flew up before he had time to understand all the facts in thatlittle affair of ours. If he had waited he would have found that he hadno cause for grievance."
"Suppose you call on him."
The banker shook his head.
"That is asking too much; it would be humiliating."
Now when a sensible wife makes up her mind that her husband shall do acertain thing, and when that husband wishes to do it, but allows a falsepride to hold him back, you may make up your mind that the aforesaidthing will be done with no unnecessary delay.
So it was that Gideon Landon went to Franklin Haynes and they had nottalked ten minutes when the cloud between them vanished. Friendship andfull trust were restored and can never be broken again. It was anotherillustration of the good that often flows from small deeds and evensmaller words.
(Mike Murphy's letter to Mrs. McCaffry.)
"MY DEAR AUNT MAGGIE:
"I'm thinking that about the time this luv letter raiches ye, an insthrumint will do the same, which the name is peeanoler, or something like that. I beg ye to accipt the thrifle as a prisent from Captain Landon, Second Mate Haynes and First Mate mesilf. I know Misther Noxon would crack his heels togither fur the chance of j'ining wid us, but he forgot to lave his card and I suspict he's sailed for Europe not to be back fur fifteen or twinty years, as was the case wid me great uncle whin he sailed for Botny Bay.
"The peagnoluh--I'm thrying all ways of spelling the name of the blamed thing so as to get the same right wunst any way--is played wid the feet. You slide the sheet wid the holes punched into 'em into the wrack over the keeze and then wurrk the feet up and down like yer husband Tana used to do at home in the treadmill.
"Don't try to sing along wid the music for somebody might hear ye. Me worry is that yer teeny Sinderilla feet won't be able to wurruk the peddles, and if ye put on the shoes ye wore whin hanging out the clothes, there wont be room in the house for the peanholler, so ye might try the same widout yer shoes and stockings.
"Wid regards to Tam and much love to yersilf I am ever
"Yer devoted, "Mike Murphy."
(Mrs. McCaffry's reply to the foregoing.)
"My darlint broth of a boy:
"It tuk me and Tam 2 nights and 3 days to understand the maaning of the action of Jim Doogan the carter in drawing up his taam to our risidence and tumbling out a big shiny box wid the remark that there wasn't a cint to pay. Tam hadn't got home and Jim carried the purty thing into the parler and leaned it aginst the flure. He had obsarved something of the kind in his travels and he showed me how to wurruk it wid me faat. Whin he slipped in one of the shaats of paper, wid hundreds of little kriss-kross holes through it, sot down on the stule and wobbled his butes, and 'Killarney' filled the room, I let out a hoop, kicked off me satan slippers, danced a jig and shouted, 'For the love of Mike!' which the same is thrue, that being yer name.
"My number 10 shoes fit the peddlers as yer snub nose fits yer freckled face. Tam and me spind the time whin we aint slaaping or eating or working in playing the thing and thinking of yersilf and the byes you spake of.
"Me darling Mike, may the birds wake ye aich morning wid their swaat songs of praise and soothe ye to slaap in the avening; may the sun shine fur ye ivery day through; may yer draams be of angels and no man or woman spake anything but wurruds of love to ye; and whin old age bows yer head and the time comes to lave us all, may ye be welcomed to heaven wid the blessed graating: 'Well done, good and faithful servant!'
"Do you and the other byes come soon and see what a happy home ye have made for Tam and me.
"Lovingly, "Aunt Maggie."
THE END
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