Title: The Young Game-Warden
Author: Castlemon, Harry
Language: English
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[Illustration: THE MYSTERIOUS LETTER]


THE YOUNG GAME-WARDEN

BY

HARRY CASTLEMON

AUTHOR OF "THE HOUSE-BOAT BOYS," "GUNBOAT SERIES,"
"ROCKY MOUNTAIN SERIES," ETC.


THE JOHN C. WINSTON CO.
PHILADELPHIA
CHICAGO      TORONTO


COPYRIGHT, 1896, BY HENRY T. COATES & CO.



CONTENTS.

CHAPTER                                      PAGE
     I. SILAS MORGAN,                           5

    II. THE BROTHERS,                          17

   III. THE MYSTERIOUS LETTER,                 31

    IV. HOBSON'S HOUSE,                        45

     V. WHAT DAN OVERHEARD,                    55

    VI. THE YOUNG GAME-WARDEN,                 66

   VII. BROTHERLY LOVE,                        77

  VIII. JOE'S PLANS IN DANGER,                 89

    IX. VOLUNTEERS,                           100

     X. WHY THE LETTER WAS WRITTEN,           109

    XI. THE PLOT SUCCEEDS,                    121

   XII. A MYSTERY,                            134

  XIII. DAN IS SCARED,                        146

   XIV. THE "HANT,"                           158

    XV. JOE'S NEW HOME,                       169

   XVI. JOE'S "FIRST OFFICIAL ACT,"           181

  XVII. WHO FIRED THE FOUR SHOTS?             194

 XVIII. DAN'S SECRET,                         205

   XIX. DAN TELLS HIS STORY,                  216

    XX. A RUN FOR HOME,                       228

   XXI. A TREACHEROUS GUIDE,                  240

  XXII. MR. BROWN TAKES HIS DEPARTURE,        252

 XXIII. EXPLORING THE CAVE,                   264

  XXIV. ROBBERS,                              277

   XXV. WHAT THE GRIP-SACK CONTAINED,         289

  XXVI. MR. HALLET HEARS THE NEWS,            302

 XXVII. JOE'S PLANS,                          315

XXVIII. CAPTURE OF BOB EMERSON,               326

  XXIX. THE HUNT FOR THE ROBBERS,             338

   XXX. BRIERLY'S SQUAD CAPTURES A ROBBER,    350

  XXXI. SILAS IN LUCK AT LAST,                362

 XXXII. BOB EMERSON'S STORY,                  374

XXXIII. TURNING OVER A NEW LEAF,              386

 XXXIV. THE TRANSFORMATION,                   399



THE YOUNG GAME-WARDEN.



CHAPTER I.

SILAS MORGAN.


"I do think in my soul that of all the mean things a white man has to
do, hauling wood on a hot day like this is the very meanest."

The speaker was Silas Morgan--a tall, broad-shouldered man, whose
tattered garments and snail-like movements proclaimed him to be the
very personification of indolence and shiftlessness.

As he spoke, he took off his hat and drew his shirt-sleeve across his
dripping forehead, while the lazy old horse, which had pulled the
rickety wood-rack up the long, steep hill from the beach, lowered his
head, dropped his ears, and fell fast asleep.

The man had two alert and wide-awake companions, and they were a brace
of finely-bred Gordon setters, which, after beating the bushes on both
sides of the road in the vain effort to put up a grouse or start a
hare, now came in, and lay down near the wagon.

They were a sight for a sportsman's eye, and that same sportsman would
very naturally ask himself how it came that this poverty-stricken
fellow could afford to own dogs that would have won honors at any
bench-show in the land.

"Yes, I reckon them dog-brutes air just about nice," Silas said,
whenever any inquisitive person propounded this inquiry to him, "and
they were given to me for a present by a couple of city shooters who
once hired me for a guide. You see, birds of all sorts, and 'specially
woodcock, was mighty skeerce that year, but I took 'em where there was
a little bunch that I was a saving for my own shooting, and they had
the biggest kind of sport. They give me them dogs in consequence of my
perliteness to 'em."

There was no one in the neighborhood who could dispute this story, but
there were those who took note of the fact that at certain times the
dogs disappeared as completely as though they had never existed, and
that they were never seen when there were any strange sportsmen in the
vicinity.

"The luck that comes to different folks in this world is just a trifle
the beatenest thing that I ever heared tell on," continued Silas,
leaning heavily upon the wood-rack and fanning his flushed face with
his brimless straw hat. "I can think and plan, but it don't bring in no
money, like it does for some folks that ain't got nigh as much sense as
I have. Now, there's them two setter dogs that was accidentally left on
my hands last year! I thought sure that I'd make my everlasting fortune
out of them; but if there's been a reward offered for their safe return
to their master, I never seen or heared of it. I've tried every way I
can think of to make something, so't things in and around my house
won't look so sorter peaked and poor, but I'm as fur from hitting the
mark now as I was ten year ago. I wish I could think up some way to
make a strike, but I can't; and so here goes for that wood-pile. It
won't always be as hot as it is to-day. Winter will be here before
long, the roads will be blocked with drifts, and if this wood ain't
down to the beach directly, me and the ole woman will have to shiver
over a bare hearth."

With this reflection to put life and energy into him, Silas
straightened up and turned toward the wood-pile with slow and reluctant
steps, all unconscious of the fact that every move he made was closely
watched by two recumbent figures, who, snugly concealed by a thicket of
evergreens, a short distance away, had distinctly caught every word of
his soliloquy.

The dogs knew they were there, for they had run upon their
hiding-place, but as the recumbent figures were neither birds nor
hares, they did not even bark at them, but gave a friendly wag with
their tails, as if to say that it was all right, and returned to their
master, to whom they gave no sign to indicate that they had discovered
anything.

Silas went about his work in that indescribably lazy way that a boy or
man generally assumes when he is laboring under protest. Every stick
he lifted from the pile to the wagon seemed to tax his strength to
the very utmost, and he was often obliged to stop and rest; but still
he made a little headway, and when the rack was about half-loaded he
concluded that he could do no more until he had refreshed himself with
a smoke.

"I have always heared," said Silas, aloud (whenever he thought himself
safely out of hearing, he invariably gave utterance to the thoughts
that were in his mind)--"I have always heared 'em say that all this
country around here is historical, and that if these mountings could
speak, they'd tell tales that would make your eyes stick out as big as
your fist.

"They do say that there's been a heap of stealing and plundering going
on about here in the days gone by"--as Silas said this he glanced
around him a little apprehensively--"and that there's heaps and stacks
of gold and silver hid away where nobody won't ever think of looking
for 'em. If I thought that was so, wouldn't I try my level best to find
some of it? I'd leave Joe and Dan to run the ferry, and then I'd put a
shovel on to my shoulder and come up here, and never leave off digging
till I'd turned some of these mountings t'other side up. But I guess
I won't smoke. I was fool enough to come away and leave my matches to
home."

Silas held his pipe in his hand, and ran his eye along the wood-pile as
if he were looking for a light.

As he did so, he gave a sudden start, his eyes opened to their widest
extent, his under jaw dropped down, and the hand in which he held the
pipe fell to his side.

The object that riveted his gaze was a letter. It had been thrust into
a crack in the end of a stick of wood, and looked as though it might
have been placed there on purpose to attract his attention.

"Now, don't that beat you?" exclaimed Silas, who was greatly
astonished. "Who in the world has been using my wood-pile for a
post-office, I'd like to know?"

If the truth must be told, Silas was frightened as well as surprised.
Like all ignorant men, he was superstitious, and whenever he saw or
heard anything for which he could not account on the instant, he was
sure to be overcome with terror.

His first thought was to take to his heels, make the best of his way to
the cabin, and send his boys back after the wagon; but if he did that,
they would be sure to see the letter--they couldn't help it, if they
kept their eyes open--and might they not read it and make themselves
masters of some information that he alone ought to possess?

"It's mighty comical how that thing come there, and who writ it," said
Silas, "and somehow I can't get my consent to tech it."

And he didn't touch it, either, until he had viewed it from all sides.
First, he bent down, with his hands upon his knees, and twisted his
body into all sorts of shapes in the vain effort to see the other side
of the letter. Then he straightened up and made a wide circle around
it; and finally, he climbed upon the wood-pile and looked at it from
another direction. At last, he must have satisfied himself that it
was a letter and nothing else, for he reached out his hand and took
possession of it.

"It's mighty comical," repeated Silas, looking first at the letter,
and then turning suspicious glances upon the surrounding woods, "and I
can't for the life of me think who put it there. Now, who'll I get to
read it for me? I can spell out printing with the best of them, but I
can't say that I know much about them turkey-tracks they call writing."

As Silas was walking around the wood-pile toward his wagon, he turned
the letter over in his hands, and then he saw that there was something
inscribed upon the envelope. The characters were printed, too, and the
man had little difficulty in deciphering the following:


    "NOTIS

    "to the luckey person in to whose hans this dockyment may happen
    to fall. thare is a big fortune for you in this mounting if you
    have got the pluck to do what I have writ on the inside. thare
    is danger in it, but mebbe that hant won't bother you as it has
    bothered me ever since I pushed him in to the gorge."


Silas was in another profuse perspiration long before he spelled out
the last word in the "notis," but now the cold chills began creeping
all over him. His breath came in short, quick gasps, and his hand
trembled visibly, as he thrust the letter into his pocket. Then he cast
frightened glances on all sides of him, glided back to his wagon with
long noiseless footsteps and reached for the reins.

The commands which he usually shouted at his aged and infirm beast,
were uttered in a whisper, and the horse, not being accustomed to that
style of driving, had to be severely admonished with a hickory switch
before he would settle into the collar and start the very light load
behind him.

Silas never could have told how he got down the hill without breaking
his crazy old wagon all to pieces, for his mind was so completely taken
up with other matters that he never thought to look out for the rough
places in the road, or to give a wide berth to the stumps. He seemed
to be treading on air. He hoped and believed that he was on the point
of making a most important discovery; but, great as was his desire to
make himself the possessor of the fortune that was hidden somewhere in
the mountain he had just left, he could not screw up courage enough to
stop and read the letter. He wanted to put the woods far behind him
before he did that. The "notis" he had read contained some words that
he did not like to recall to mind.

"Didn't I say that there had been a heap of plundering and stealing a
going on in this country in bygone days?" said Silas to himself. "This
letter proves it, and the words that's printed onto the envelope tells
me some things that I don't like to hear tell of. There's likewise been
some killing a going on up there. A feller has been shoved into one of
the gorges, and his hant (some folks calls it a ghost or spirit) has
come back, and keeps a bothering of the feller that pushed him in. I
don't know whether or not I can get my consent to go up there and dig
for that fortune, even if I knew where to look for it, which I don't."

At the end of half an hour, Silas Morgan drew a long breath of relief,
and stopped looking behind him.

He was safely out of the woods, and moving quietly along the river
road, within shouting distance of his cabin.

Then his courage all came back to him, and he was ready for any
undertaking, no matter how dangerous it might be, so long as there was
money behind it.

"Now, Silas, let's look at this thing kind o' sensible like," said he
to himself. "There must be as much as a thousand dollars up there in
the mounting. If there wasn't, it wouldn't be a fortune, would it? And
what's to hender you from getting it for you own? If you go up there in
the daytime, that hant can't bother you none, 'cause I've heard folks
say that they never show themselves except on dark and stormy nights;
but if this one comes out and tells you to leave off digging for that
fortune, you can fill him so full of bird shot that he won't be of no
use as a hant any more, can't you? Get along with you!" he shouted,
bringing the heavy switch down upon the horse's back with no gentle
hand. "I ain't got much more wood hauling for you to do, 'cause I'm
going after them thousand dollars."

A few minutes later Silas reached his home. Dropping the reins and whip
to the ground, he bolted into the cabin, closing the door behind him.



CHAPTER II.

THE BROTHERS.


"Toot! toot! t-o-ot!"

This was the third time the horn had been blown--first warningly, then
persuasively, and at last angrily.

The hunters on the other side of the river, who had been trying for
more than twenty minutes to bring the ferryman over to them, were
beginning to get impatient. So was Joe Morgan, the ferryman's youngest
son--a sturdy, sun-browned boy of fifteen, who stood in the flat,
holding one of the heavy sweeps in his hand, all ready to shove off.

He looked toward the men on the opposite shore, and then he looked at
his brother, who sat on the bank, with his elbows on his knees and his
chin resting on his hands.

"There's eighty cents in that load," said Joe, who was in a great hurry
to respond to the angry blasts of the horn. "If they get tired of
waiting, and go down to the bridge, we shall be just that much out of
pocket."

"Let 'em go, if they want to," replied the boy on the bank, in a lazy,
indifferent tone. "There's no law to hinder 'em that I know of. Pap
don't seem to be in no great hurry, and neither be I. I'm sick and
tired of pulling that heavy flat over the river every time anybody
takes a fool notion into his head to toot that horn. Some day I'll get
mad and sink it so deep that it can't never be found again--I will so!"

"Now, Dan, what's the use of talking that way?" exclaimed Joe,
impatiently. "You know well enough that as long as we run the ferry,
we must hold ourselves in readiness to serve any one who may call upon
us; and if you should destroy the flat, we would have to get another or
give up the business."

"And that's just what I want to do," answered Dan.

"Then how would we make a living?"

"Easy enough. Can't we all shoot birds and rabbits when the season's
open, and snare 'em when it's shut? And can't mother earn a dollar
every day by washing for them rich--"

"Dan, I'm ashamed of you," interrupted Joe. "What mother wants is rest,
and not more work. Come on; what's the use of being so lazy? You've got
to make a start some time or other."

But Dan made no move, and Joe, who was very much disgusted with his
brother's obstinacy, threw down the sweep, sprang ashore and ran up the
bank toward the little board cabin that stood at the top.

Finding that the door would not open for him, Joe ran around the corner
of the building, and looked in at a convenient window, just in time
to catch his father in the act of thrusting a letter into his pocket.
The ferryman's face was flushed, and his movements were nervous and
hurried. The boy saw at a glance that he was greatly excited about
something.

"As long as I have been acquainted with him, I never knew him to get
a letter before," said Joe to himself. "He has heard some very good
or some very bad news, for he is so upset that he doesn't seem to know
what he is about."

"I heard 'em blowing, Joey," said Silas, without waiting for the boy to
speak, "and now we'll go and bring 'em over. Thank goodness, I won't
have to follow this mean business much longer. I don't like it, Joey. I
wasn't born to wait on other folks, and I'm going to quit it."

"Then you will have to quit ferrying," said Joe, as he followed his
father down the bank.

"That's just what I intend to do," answered Silas, and then the boy
noticed that there was a triumphant smile on his face, and that he
rubbed his hands together as if he were thinking about something that
afforded him the greatest satisfaction. "I've got an idee into my head,
and if I don't make the folks around here look wild some of these days,
I'm a goat," added the ferryman.

And then he raised a yell to let the men on the other side of the
river know that he had at last made up his mind to respond to their
signals. But before he did so, he shaded his eyes with his hand, and
took a good look at the group on the opposite bank, after which he
walked around the cabin, snapping his fingers as he went. This was a
signal to the dogs that it was time for them to retire from public gaze
for a short season; in other words, to go into a miserable lean-to
behind the cabin, which Silas called a wood-shed, and stay there until
the hunters, who were now on the other side of the river, should have
passed out of sight. They went in in obedience to a sign from the
ferryman, and the latter closed the door and put a stick of cord-wood
against it to hold it in place.

"If them setter brutes was a present to pap, like he says they was,
it's mighty comical to me why he takes so much trouble to hide 'em
every time some of them city shooters comes along and toot that horn,"
soliloquized Dan, as he slowly, almost painfully, arose from the
ground, and, after much stretching and yawning, followed his father
and brother down the bank toward the flat. "He says he's scared that
somebody will take a notion to 'em and steal 'em; but that's all in my
one eye, 'cording to my way of thinking. Now, I'll just tell him this
for a fact. If he don't quit being so stingy with the money I help him
earn with this ferry, I'll bust up the plans he's got into his head
about them dogs--I will so. I wonder what's come over him all of a
sudden? Here he's been clear up the mounting and come back with only an
armful of wood on his wagon, and he don't generally whoop in that there
good-natured way, less'n he's got something on his mind."

That was true enough. The ferryman's replies to the hails that came to
him from over the river, usually sounded more like the complaints of a
surly bear than anything else to which we can compare them. The tone
in which they were uttered seemed to say, "I'll come because I can't
help myself," and he was so long about it, and made himself so very
disagreeable in the presence of his passengers, that those who knew him
would often go ten miles out of their way to reach a bridge rather than
put a dime into his pocket. But on this particular morning, his voice
rang out so cheerily that it attracted Joe's attention as well as
Dan's.

Silas was always good-natured when he had something besides his poverty
to think about, and Joe would have known that his father had some new
idea in his head, even if he had not said a word about it.

"Lively, Dannie!" exclaimed Silas, seizing the steering-oar and pushing
the flat away from the bank. "Put in your very best licks, 'cause there
won't none of us have to follow this miserable business much longer.
There'll be a day when we won't have to go and come at everybody's beck
and call, and that day ain't so very far away neither."

The two boys took their places at the sweeps, and the flat moved out
into the river. Joe did his best to make a quick passage, as he always
did, while the lazy Dan, who had the current in his favor, merely put
his oar into the water and took it out again, without exerting himself
in the least. His father's hopeful and encouraging words did not infuse
a particle of energy into him. He had heard him talk that way too
often.

"It ain't right that we should be so poor, while other folks, who never
did a hand's turn in their lives, have got more than they know what
to do with," continued Silas, as he dropped the steering-oar into the
water. "I've got just as much right to have money, and the fine things
that money'll buy, as anybody has, and I'm going to have 'em, too. I
ain't going to live like the pigs in the gutter no longer. Just think
of the hundreds and thousands of dollars that's spent down to the Beach
every summer by the city chaps who come there to loaf! _I_ can't lay
around under the shade of the trees or swing in a hammock just 'cause
the weather's hot. I've got to work. I've got to cut cord-wood in
winter and run this ferry during the summer, in order to make a living;
but other fellows can stay around and do nothing, just 'cause they've
got money. I say again, that such things ain't right."

"It makes me savage every time I go down to the Beach," chimed in Dan,
"when I see them city folks, who ain't a cent's worth better than I be,
wearing their good clothes, and walking around with their fine guns
and fish-poles on their shoulders--"

"Like them over there," said his father, nodding his head toward the
bank, which was now but a short distance away.

Dan faced about on his seat, and took a good look at the party in
question.

There were ninety cents in the load instead of eighty. There were three
sportsmen in brown hunting-suits, who were walking restlessly about as
if they did not know what to do with themselves, and they had a double
team, with a negro to drive it.

With them were half a dozen setters and pointers, which were exercising
their muscles by racing up and down the bank.

The sight of the negro set the ferryman's tongue in motion again, while
the good clothes the strangers wore had about the same effect upon Dan
that a piece of red cloth is supposed to have upon a pugnacious turkey
gobbler.

"More 'ristocrats!" sneered Silas. "Why don't they drive their own
team?"

"Probably they don't want to," replied Joe. "Besides, they are able to
hire some one to drive it for them."

"Of course they are!" exclaimed Silas, who was angry in an instant.
"But I ain't able to hire a nigger to run this ferry for me. I say that
such a state of things ain't right."

"Well, it isn't their fault, is it?" said Joe.

"I didn't say it was," snapped his father. "It ain't my fault, neither,
that I haven't got as much money as the richest of them, but it will
be my fault if I don't have it before the season's over. They're going
after woodcock," added Silas, who was a market-shooter as well as a
ferryman and wood-cutter. "I would like to bet them something that they
won't get enough birds to pay them for crossing the river. I've got all
the covers pretty well cleaned out."

"Them's the sort of fellers I despise," said Dan, turning around on his
seat and resuming his work at the sweep--or, rather, his pretence of
it. "The money them dogs cost would keep me in the best kind of grub
and clothes for a whole year. Just look at the clothes they've got on,
and then cast your eye at these I've got on. Dog-gone such luck! I hope
they won't get nothing, and if they should hire me for a guide, I would
take good care to lead them where such a bird as a woodcock wasn't
never seen."

"Perhaps they don't need a guide," said Joe. "Because they wear good
clothes and own fine dogs, it is no sign that they don't know woodcock
ground or a snipe bog when they see it, as well as you do. Perhaps they
are all better hunters and wing-shots than you ever dare be."

"Not much they ain't," exclaimed Dan, who got fighting mad whenever his
brother threw out a hint of this kind. "I can beat any feller who wears
them kind of clothes; and as for them fine dogs of their'n, I'll take
Bony and get more partridges in a day than they can shoot in a week."

"Well, then, why ain't you satisfied? What are you growling about?"

"'Cause they're 'ristocrats--that's what I'm growling about," answered
Dan, looking savagely across the flat at his brother, while Silas
nodded a silent but hearty approval. "I am getting tired of seeing so
much style every day, while I am so poor that I can't hardly raise
money enough to buy powder and shot, and some fine day I'll bust up
some of these hunting parties. I've got just as much right to see fun
as they have."

"So you have, Dannie," said his father. "There ain't no sense in the
way things go in this world anyway, and I am glad to see you kick agin
it. I have always told you, that I would be better off some day, and I
have hit upon the very idee at last. Me and you will stick together,
and I'll warrant that we will make more money than Joe does by toadying
to these 'ristocrats who come here to take the bread out of our mouths,
by shooting the game that rightfully belongs to us."

"I don't toady to anybody," replied Joe, with some spirit. "I am glad
of the chances they give me to earn something now and then, and I am
sure we need it bad enough."

"I have thought up a way to get more out of them than you do, and the
first good chance I get I am going to try it on," observed Dan. "I
won't go halvers with you, neither, and you needn't expect me to. You
never give me a cent."

"Of course I don't. You are as able to make something for yourself as I
am to make it for you. Mother gets all I earn."

By this time the flat was within a few lengths of the shore, and the
crew were obliged to give their entire attention to the sweeps, in
order to make a landing. The ferryman, who up to this time had been
in a state of nervousness and expectancy, now began to act more like
himself--that is to say, he greeted his passengers with an angry scowl,
and gave them about as much polite attention as he would have bestowed
upon so many bags of corn.

He had kept his gaze fastened upon them, and he was both relieved and
disappointed to discover that the owner of the dogs that were shut up
in his woodshed was not among them.

At the proper moment the "apron"--a movable gangway which could be
raised and lowered at pleasure--was dropped upon the bank, and in five
minutes more the team and the passengers were all aboard, and the flat
was moving back across the river.



CHAPTER III.

THE MYSTERIOUS LETTER.


Having landed his passengers and pocketed his money, Silas Morgan made
his way toward the cabin with so much haste that he again drew the
attention of the boys, who gazed after him with no little surprise and
curiosity. Silas was as lazy as a man ever gets to be, and Joe and Dan
could not imagine what had happened to put so much life into him.

"I knew that something or 'nother had come over pap when he yelled in
that good-natured way to let them fellers on t'other side know that he
was coming," observed Dan, who walked back to his seat on the bank, and
sunned himself there like a turtle on his log, while Joe hauled in the
sweeps and made the flat secure. "He's got another of them money-making
plans into his head, I reckon."

Those who were well acquainted with Silas Morgan knew that he always
had plans of that kind in his head. He was full of schemes for getting
rich without work, some of which, if carried into execution, would
have brought him into serious trouble with the officers of the law;
but the idea that occupied his busy brain on this particular morning
was a little ahead of anything he had ever before thought of. You will
probably laugh at it when you know what it was, but Silas didn't.

Of all the thousand and one plans which he had conjured up and pondered
over, this one, which had come into his possession by the merest
accident, seemed to hold out the brightest promises of success.

"But it wasn't accident, neither," Silas kept saying to himself. "There
isn't a day during the shooting season that them mountings ain't just
covered with hunters, and how did the man that put this letter into my
wood-pile know that I was the one who was to take it out? He didn't
know it. I found it 'cause it was to be so, that's the reason."

The first thing the ferryman did when he reached the cabin was to
close and fasten the door, to prevent interruption, and the next to
draw from his pocket the mysterious letter, which he spread upon the
table before him.

To make himself master of its contents was a work of no little
difficulty. Silas did not know much about books, and, besides, some of
the characters that were intended to represent letters were so badly
printed that it was hard to tell what they were intended for. He read
as follows:


    "DECEMBER 15--IN THE MOUNTINGS.

    "I write this to inform whoever finds it that I have a secret to
    tell you. I was born in Europe, and am now forty years of age. I am
    a gentleman, and my father is a rich man and a large land-owner. I
    am the second son, and fell in love with a girl when I was twenty
    years of age.

    "Everything went well till my older brother came home from the war,
    and when she found out that I was not entitled to the estates,
    she left me, and went to concerts and balls with my brother, and
    that was something I could not stand. So I sent her a bottle of
    sody-water, with my best wishes, and I put in strickning, and the
    next day she was dead. The doctors said she died of heart disease,
    but I knew better. So I told my father that I was going to
    America. So he gave me five hundred pounds in money--"


"Five hundred pounds of money!" exclaimed Silas, after he had spelled
the words over three times to satisfy himself that he had made no
mistake. "How did he ever make out to carry that heft of greenbacks
clear across the ocean and up into these mountings? If I find it, I'll
have to bring it down on my wagon, won't I? And where'll I put it after
I get it so that it will be safe? That's what's a bothering of me now."

Silas was already beginning to feel the responsibilities that weigh
upon capitalists, one of whom assures us that he finds it harder work
to take care of his money than it was to accumulate it. Silas made a
note of all the good hiding-places which he could recall to mind on the
spur of the moment, and then went on with his reading:


    --"and the next day I shipped for New York. I wish I had never done
    it. A coming over the ocean, I made the acquaintance of a man who
    coaxed me to go to Californy with him, and there we fell in with
    two more who were as bad as we was, and we went into a bank there,
    and took out seventy thousand dollars. So we went to Canady, and
    stayed there till the country got too hot for us, and then we come
    to these mountings. So we went along till we come to the old Indian
    road. One day my chum dropped his pipe down a crack in the rocks,
    and he said he would have it again if he broke his neck a getting
    it. So he slid down about twelve feet, and there was as nice a cave
    in the rock as you ever see.

    "There is a crack in the ground that goes down about twelve feet,
    and then you come onto the level, and can go a hundred feet before
    you come to the place where a lot of sand and stones has fell in.
    The cave has been lived in before, by robbers most likely, 'cause
    we found a lot of money and some guns and pistols there, of a kind
    that we never see before. I and my chum lived in this cave about
    three weeks, and then we started to go to the lake.

    "When we got to the top of the Indian road, I refused to go any
    farther, and when my chum made as if he were going to shoot me
    for being a coward, I give him a shove, and down he went into the
    gulf. He's there now, where nobody will ever find him; but his hant
    (ghost) comes back to me every day and night, and that's why I am
    going to jump into the lake--just to get away from that hant. Now I
    must tell you about the money.

    "There is twelve thousand in bills, and about three hundred in
    gold and silver. It is in a leather satchel in the bottom. It has
    a false plate on the bottom, put on with screws. And there you
    will find the money. I will and bequeath it to you and your heirs
    and assanees forever. I leave this in a wood-pile, and the one who
    draws the wood will find it.

    "The cave is about a quarter of a mile from the wood-pile, near a
    large hemlock tree. There is a rope that goes down into the cave,
    and it hangs under the roots of the tree. Look close or you can't
    find it. I leave a map of the route from the pile of wood to the
    cave in this letter. I hope the hant won't bother you while you are
    getting the money, as he has bothered me ever since I have been
    writing this letter.

    "JULIUS JONES."


Words would fail us, were we to attempt to tell just how Silas felt
after he had finished reading this interesting communication. He hoped
it might be true--that there was a cave with a fortune in it which he
could have for the finding of it--and consequently it was very easy for
him to believe that it _was_ true; but there were one or two things
that ought to have attracted his attention and aroused his suspicions
at once.

In the first place, there was the document itself. It was now the
latter part of August, and if the letter was left in the wood-pile on
the day it purported to be written, it had been exposed for eight long
months to some of the most furious snow and rain storms that had ever
visited that section of the country, and yet the writing looked fresh,
and there was not a single wrinkle or even the suspicion of a stain
upon the envelope. It could not have been cleaner if it had but just
been taken out of the post office.

Another thing, the writer would have found it an exceedingly difficult
task to drown himself in the lake during the month of December, for he
would have been obliged to cut through nearly two feet of ice in order
to reach water.

But the ferryman did not notice these little discrepancies. He gave
his imagination full swing, and worked himself into such a state of
excitement that his nerves were all unstrung; consequently, when hasty
steps sounded outside the cabin, and Dan's heavy hand fumbled with
the latch, it was all Silas could do to repress the cry of alarm that
trembled on his lips as he sprang to his feet.

Finding that the door was fastened on the inside, Dan came around the
corner, and looked in at the window.

"Say, pap," he whispered excitedly, "dog-gone my buttons, what did you
go and lock yourself up for? Think somebody was about to steal all the
gold dishes? Open up, quick! Here's a go--two of 'em."

Although the ferryman heartily wished Dan a thousand miles away, he
complied with this peremptory demand for admission, whereupon the boy
stepped quickly across the threshold and locked the door behind him.

"Say, pap," he continued, in a hurried whisper, "don't it beat the
world how some folks can make money without ever trying? Now, there's
that Joe of our'n. He don't never seem to do much of nothing but just
loaf around in the woods with them city fellers that come up here to
show their fine guns, and yet he's always got money. He takes mighty
good care to keep it hid, too, 'cause I can't never find none of it."

"Is that all you've got to say?" exclaimed Silas impatiently. "I know
it as well as you do."

"Well, it ain't all I've got to say, neither," replied Dan. "I've got
a heap more, if you will only let me tell you. Old man Warren is out
there talking with Joe now. You remember them blue-headed birds you
killed for him last year, don't you?"

"Them English partridges?" said Silas with a grin. "I ain't forgot 'em.
Old man Warren offered me ten dollars a month if I wouldn't shoot over
his grounds, 'cause he wanted them birds pertected till there were lots
of 'em; but I wouldn't agree to nothing of the kind. He brung them
birds from England on purpose to stock his covers with. They cost him
six dollars a pair, and I made more'n forty dollars out of 'em. Well,
what of it? I don't care for such trifling things any more."

"Well," answered Dan, "he's gone and got more of them to take the
place of them you shot--old man Warren has--a hundred pair of 'em--six
hundred dollars worth, and--"

"Ah! that makes it different," said Silas, rubbing his hands and
looking up at his old muzzle-loader, which rested on a couple of
wooden hooks over the door. "It's true that six hundred dollars ain't
no great shakes of money to a man who--hum! But still I am obliged to
old Warren. They won't bring me in no such sum as that, them birds
won't, but they'll be worth a dollar a brace this season easy enough,
and that'll pay me for the trouble I'll have in shooting them. Ain't I
going to make a power of money this winter?"

"No, you ain't," snapped Dan, who had made several ineffectual attempts
to induce his father to stop talking and listen to him. "And you ain't
by no means as smart as you think you be, neither."

"What for?" demanded his father.

"'Cause you keep jawing all the while and won't let me tell you. He's
going to have them birds pertected, the old man is, and you can't shoot
them loose and reckless like you did last winter."

"_That_ for his pertection!" cried the ferryman, snapping his fingers
in the air. "He can't do it, and I won't pay no heed to him if he tries
it."

"Then he'll have the law on you."

"He can't do that, neither, 'cause there ain't no close season for
English partridges. There's no such birds in this country known to the
law. Besides, how is old man Warren going to tell whether it was me or
some of them city sportsmen that shot 'em?"

"He's going to post his land, and put a game-warden up there in the
woods to watch them partridges," observed Dan.

"What kind of a feller is that?" asked Silas. "Is it the same as a
game-constable?"

"Just the same, only the old man will pay him out of his own pocket,
instead of looking to the county to pay him. He's going to have that
there game-warden shoot every dog and 'rest every man who comes on to
the grounds with a gun in his hands, if he don't go off when he's told
to."

"Well, I'd like to see him shoot one of my dogs, and I wouldn't go off,
neither, less'n I felt like it," said Silas, doubling his huge fists
and looking very savage indeed. "Do you know how much he is going to
give him?"

"Fifteen dollars a month from the first of September to the first of
May," answered Dan, "and his grub is throwed in--the best kind of grub,
too."

"Well, that ain't so bad," said Silas, slowly. "Fifteen dollars a month
and grub for eight months--that would be a hundred and twenty dollars,
wouldn't it, Dannie? That's more'n I could make by shooting the birds.
Is old man Warren out there now? If he is, I'll go and tell him that
I'll take the job. You and Joe can run the ferry during the rest of the
summer, and pocket all you can make. I don't care for such trifling
things any more."

"Whoop! Hold me on the ground, somebody!" yelled Dan, jumping up and
knocking his heels together.

This was the expression he always used and the performance he went
through whenever he got mad and became possessed with an insane desire
to smash things.

"Now I'll just tell you what's a fact, pap," continued Dan, spreading
out his feet, and settling his hat firmly on his head. "Me and Joe
won't run the ferry, and neither will you get the chance to grow fat
off good grub this winter, less'n you earn it yourself. Didn't I tell
you the very first word I said that old man Warren had give the job to
Joe?"

"Not our Joe!" exclaimed Silas, who was fairly staggered by this
unexpected piece of news.

"Yes, our Joe--nobody else."

"No, you didn't tell me that," replied his father.

"Then it's 'cause you want to do all the talking yourself, and won't
let me say a word," retorted Dan. "Yes, that Joe of our'n has got the
job. He's going to have a nice house, with a carpet onto the floor, to
live in, and the grub he'll have to eat will be just the same kind that
old man Warren has onto his table at home. Just think of that, pap!
You'll have to look around for some cheap boy to help you run the ferry
from now till winter, 'cause I'm going up there to live with Joe, and
help him keep an eye on them birds."

"Dan!" shouted Mr. Morgan, pushing up his sleeves, and looking about
the room as if he wanted to find some missile to throw at the boy's
head--"Dan, for two cents I'd--"

The ferryman suddenly paused, for he found he was talking to the empty
air.

When he began pushing up his sleeves, Dan jumped for the door, and now
all that Silas could see of him was one of his eyes, which looked at
him through a crack about half an inch wide.

He noticed, however, that Dan held the hook in his hand, and that he
was all ready to fasten the door on the outside in case his father
showed a disposition to follow him.



CHAPTER IV.

HOBSON'S HOUSE.


"And that ain't all I've got to tell you, neither," shouted Dan. "The
road commissioners has come up here with some surveyors and a jury, and
they're going to build a bridge across the river so's to bust up the
ferrying business."

Silas would have been glad to thrash the boy for bringing him so
unwelcome news as this, and the only reason he did not attempt it was
because he knew he could not catch him.

He did not like the "ferrying business," for it was very confining,
and, besides, there wasn't money enough in it to suit him; but still it
enabled him to eke out his slender income, and the mere hint that the
authorities were about to take away this source of revenue by building
a bridge across the river at that point surprised and enraged him.

"That's just the way the thing stands, pap," continued Dan, who looked
upon his sire's exhibition of bewilderment and anger as a highly
edifying spectacle. "If you think I am trying to make a fool of you,
look out the winder."

Silas looked, and a single glance was enough to satisfy him that there
was something unusual going on outside the cabin.

There were at least a score of men gathered about the flat, and among
them Silas saw the town commissioner of highways. He could easily pick
out the surveyor and his party, for the former held a tripod in his
hand, and a queer-looking brass instrument under his arm, while one of
his men carried a chain and the rest had axes on their shoulders.

A few steps away from this party, and apparently not in the least
interested in what they were saying or doing, were Mr. Warren and Joe
Morgan, who were talking earnestly about something.

Mr. Warren was the richest man in the country for miles around.
He owned the hotel and most of the cottages at the beach; but he
was seldom seen there, because he said he could find more rest and
recreation in the woods, with his dog and gun for companions, than he
could at a fashionable watering-place.

The cabin which the Morgans occupied, rent free, belonged to him, and
so did the ground on which it stood; and it was owing to his influence
that Silas had been permitted to establish his ferry.

But still Silas hated him, as he hated every one who was better off in
the world than he was.

A little distance farther away stood a solitary individual, who, if
the expression of his countenance could be taken as an index to his
feelings, was mad enough to do something desperate.

He took the deepest interest in all that was going on before him, and
indeed he had good reason for it. His livelihood depended upon what
the commissioner and his jury of twelve disinterested freeholders
might decide to do. A bridge at that particular place would ruin his
occupation as effectually as it would break up the business of ferrying.

"That's Hobson," said Silas, looking around for his hat. "I don't
wonder that he's mad. What do they want to put a bridge across here
for, anyway? Ain't there a good ferry right in front of the door, and
can't we take care of them that wants to go back and forth?"

"We can, but we don't," answered Dan. "When that horn toots, you never
move till you get a good ready."

"I know that," assented Silas. "I ain't hired myself out for a slave
yet, and them that expect me to jump the minute a man who has got more
money than I have chooses to call on me, will find themselves fooled. I
have always run this ferry to suit Silas Morgan, and nobody else."

"That there is just the p'int," observed Dan, sagely. "The way you run
it may suit you, but it don't by no means suit the public. That's the
reason they want a bridge here."

"But there ain't no good road."

"No, odds; they're going to build one out of the old log road, and make
the distance from Bellville to the Beach shorter by five good long
miles than it is now. They're going to tear t'other bridge down, and
make all the travel come this way."

"Why, that will shut Hobson out in the cold entirely," exclaimed the
ferryman. "He'll have to quit keeping hotel."

"That's just what old man Warren and them fellers down to the Beach
wan't to do," said Dan. "I heared 'em say so. He always keeps a
crowd of loafers around him, Hobson does, and there's so many
shooting-matches going on in the grove behind his hotel, that it ain't
safe for folks to drive past there with skittish horses. There's been
five or six runaways along that road already."

"That's only an excuse for shutting him up, Dannie," said the ferryman,
with a knowing wink at his hopeful son. "Hobson keeps the Halfway
House, and it's natural for folks who are going to and from the Beach
to stop there to water their horses and get a bite of lunch. They spend
money with Hobson that they would otherwise spend at the Beach, and
that's why old man Warren wants that hotel closed. It's about time for
poor people to rise up and pertect themselves, seeing that the law
won't do nothing for them. I don't wonder Hobson looks mad."

Having found his hat, Silas went out to exchange a few words of
condolence with the man whose name he had just mentioned. He glanced at
Joe's face as he passed, and the pleased expression he saw there was
very different from the malevolent scowl with which he was welcomed by
the proprietor of the Halfway House.

The latter was quite as angry as he looked to be, and the first words
he uttered as the ferryman came up were:

"Now what I want to know is this: Are me and you obliged to stand here
with our hands in our pockets, and see these rich men take the bread
and butter out of the mouths of our families?"

"They are going to do worse by me than they are by you," answered
Silas. "I can't start again if they break up my ferry, but you can."

"How, I'd like to know?" growled Hobson.

"Why, all the land around here belongs to old man Warren. Folks say
that he's a mighty kind-hearted chap, though I never saw any signs of
it in him, and you might buy or rent a piece of land, and build another
and better hotel. You have the money to do it, for you have made many a
dollar over your bar during the last two years."

"That's just what's the matter," cried Hobson, who became so angry
when he thought of it that it was all he could do to restrain himself.
"That's the reason old man Warren wants to shut me up--because he knows
that I am making a little money. He won't sell or rent me a foot of
land, for I tried him as soon as I found out that a new road was coming
through here."

"That's worse than I thought for," said the ferryman, in a sympathizing
tone which was more assumed than real.

Hobson's business interests were likely to suffer more severely than
his own, and he was glad of it.

"It is bad enough, I tell you," said the proprietor of the Halfway
House. "But you can say to your folks that it is going to be a dear
piece of business for old man Warren. If I don't damage him for more
thousands than he does me for hundreds, it will not be because I don't
try."

"It looks mighty strange to me that he should go out of his way to be
so scandalous mean to some, while he is so good to others," said Silas,
reflectively. "I don't pertend to understand it. Here he is, robbing me
of the onliest chance I had to make a living during the summer, and yet
he's standing over there now, offering that Joe of our'n a chance to
make a hundred and twenty dollars."

"What doing?" inquired Hobson, who was paying more attention to the
surveyor's movements than he was to Silas.

"You remember them English pa'tridges he brought over here to stock his
woods, the same year he built that big hotel down to the Beach, don't
you?" asked Silas, in reply.

"I should say I did," answered Hobson. "You shot the most of them, and
I got the rest, all except the few that Dan managed to catch with
his snares and that little black dog of his'n. I wish I could see him
cleaned out of everything as slick as he was cleaned out of them birds."

"Well, he's got a new supply of them, old man Warren has--six hundred
dollars' worth."

Hobson opened his eyes and began taking some interest in what the
ferryman was saying to him.

"I am powerful glad to hear it," said he. "If he won't let me keep
hotel and support myself, he can just make up his mind that he's got to
keep me in grub. I won't allow myself to go hungry while his covers are
well stocked, I bet you. I'll earn a tolerable good living by shooting
over his grounds this fall and winter."

"But you will have more bother in doing it than you did last season,"
said Silas, who then went on to repeat what Dan had told him concerning
the game-warden who was to live in Mr. Warren's woods, and devote his
entire time and attention to keeping trespassers at a distance.

This seemed a novel idea to Hobson, who finally said:

"If that's the case, we'll have to go somewhere else to do our
shooting."

"What for?" demanded the ferryman, who was not a little surprised. "Do
you think that that little Joe of our'n could 'rest us if we didn't
want him to?"

"Of course not; but he could report us, and the sheriff could arrest
us," answered Hobson.

Silas clenched both his fists and glared savagely at Joe, who was just
then holding an animated colloquy with his brother Dan upon some point
concerning which there was evidently a wide diversity of opinion.



CHAPTER V.

WHAT DAN OVERHEARD.


"If I thought that Joe of our'n would be mean enough to carry tales on
me and have me 'rested, I'd larrup him 'till his own mother wouldn't
know him," declared Silas, who grew so angry at the mere mention of
such a thing, that he wanted to catch up a stick and fall upon the boy
at once.

"And make the biggest kind of a fool of yourself by doing of it," said
Hobson, calmly. "Look a-here, Silas, you want to keep away from old man
Warren's woods this winter."

"With them six hundred dollars' worth of birds running around loose
and no law to pertect 'em?" cried the ferryman. "I'll show you whether
I will or not. I tell you I'll have the last one of them before the
winter's over. It is true that I don't care for such trifling things as
the ferry any more, 'cause I've got a plan in my head that'll--hum!
But I want to get even with old man Warren for breaking up my business,
don't I?"

"Of course you do; and the best way to do it is to make him give
something toward your support. Joe ain't of age yet, and you can compel
him to hand over every cent he earns."

"That's so!" exclaimed the ferryman, who now began to see what his
friend Hobson was aiming at. "That Joe of our'n makes right smart by
acting as guide and pack-horse to the strangers who come here to shoot
and fish; but I never thought to ask him for any of it. He always gives
it to his mother."

"Why don't you make him give it to you, and then you can spend it as
you please?" said Hobson, hoping that the ferryman would act upon
his advice, and so increase his wealth by the addition of Joe's hard
earnings that he could squander more at the bar of the Halfway House
than he was in the habit of doing. "The head of the family ought to
have the handling of all the money that comes into the house--that's my
creed."

"And a very good creed it is, too," replied Silas, who told himself
that he must be very stupid indeed not to have seen the matter in its
true light long ago. "I'll turn over a new leaf this very day. Joe
shall give me every cent of them hundred and twenty dollars, and I'll
have what I can make out of them birds besides."

"There you go again," said Hobson, in a tone of disgust. "You mustn't
go to work the first thing and kill the goose that lays the golden egg.
If you begin on the first day of September, when the pa'tridge season
opens, and shoot all them birds, there won't be none left for Joe to
watch; and then old man Warren will tell Joe that he don't need him any
longer. See the point?"

"I'd be stone blind if I couldn't see it," answered Silas, "and it
makes me madder than I was before. Don't you understand that old Warren
means to perfect them birds till they have increased to as many as
a million, mebbe, and then he'll bring in a lot of his city friends
and shoot 'em for fun--for fun, mind you--while poor folks like me
and you, who need the money we could make out of 'em to buy grub and
clothes--we'll be took up if we so much as set foot on t'other side his
fences. Dog-gone such doings! 'Tain't right nor justice that it should
be so, and I ain't going to stand it no longer. Thank goodness, I won't
have to! I've got a plan in my head that'll--hum!"

Hobson made no response. Indeed, he did not seem to hear what Silas
said to him, for he was straining his ears to catch the conversation
that was-carried on by Mr. Warren and the surveyor, who were now coming
up the bank.

He must have heard more than he wanted to, for, with an oath and a
threat that made the ferryman's hair stand on end, Hobson hurried
toward the place where he had left his horse. He mounted and rode away.

Mr. Warren and the surveying party left a few minutes later, followed
by the commissioner and his jury; and Silas turned about and walked
slowly toward his cabin.

He had not made many steps before he found himself confronted by his
hopeful son Dan.

"Well," said Silas, cheerfully, "we won't have to pull that heavy flat
across the river many more days, and the next time you go over you can
take your gun with you and put a charge of shot into that horn, if you
feel like it. Hallo! What's the matter of you?"

Dan's clenched hands were held close by his side, his black eyes were
flashing dangerously, and he stood before his father, looking the very
picture of rage and excitement.

"Can't you speak, and tell me what's the matter of you?" demanded
Silas, who could not remember when he had seen Dan in such a towering
passion before. "I know it's mighty hard to give up the ferry just
'cause them rich folks down to the Beach have took it into their heads
that they don't want one here, but we can make enough out of them birds
of old man Warren's to--"

Dan interrupted his father with a gesture of impatience, and snapped
his fingers in the air.

"I don't care _that_ for the ferry," he sputtered. "I am glad to see it
go, for it has brung me more backaches than dimes, I tell you."

"Well, then, what's the matter of you?" Silas once more inquired.
"You'd best make that tongue of your'n more lively, if you want me to
listen to you, 'cause I ain't got no time to waste. I'm going in to
talk to that Joe of our'n about the job that old man Warren offered to
give him."

These words had a most surprising effect upon Dan. He bounded into the
air like a rubber ball, knocked his heels together, and yelled loudly
for somebody to hold him on the ground.

"Of all the mean fellers in the world that I ever see, that Joe of
our'n is the beatenest," said he, as soon as he could speak. "Now, pap,
wait till I tell you, and see if you don't say so yourself."

The ferryman, recalling some words that Dan let fall during their
hurried interview in the cabin, told himself that he knew right where
the trouble was; but he listened attentively to the story, which the
angry boy related substantially as follows:

While Dan was taking his ease on the bank, and Joe was hauling in the
sweeps and making the flat secure, Mr. Warren came up, arriving on the
ground five or ten minutes before the commissioner and the surveying
party got there.

He hitched his horse to the nearest tree, walked down the bank, and
greeted Joe with a hearty good-morning, paying no attention to Dan, who
was so highly enraged at this oversight or willful neglect on the part
of the wealthy visitor, that he shook his fist at him as soon as he
turned his back.

He was not long in finding out what brought Mr. Warren there, for he
distinctly overheard every word that passed between him and Joe.

As he listened, the expression of rage that had settled on his face
gradually gave place to a look of surprise and delight; and finally Dan
became wonderfully good-natured, and showed it by rubbing his hands
together, grinning broadly, and winking at the trees on the opposite
bank of the river.

"Well, Joseph," said Mr. Warren, cheerfully, "going to school next
term?"

"I am afraid I can't," replied Joe, sadly. "I don't see how I can
afford it. Mother needs every cent I can give her. I must work every
day, and shall be glad to cut some wood for you, if you will give me
the chance."

"Then you can cut it by yourself, I bet you," muttered Dan. "I won't
help you; I'd rather hunt and trap."

"I shall need a good supply of wood," said Mr. Warren, "but I thought
of giving your father and Dan a chance at that."

"Thank-ee for nothing," said Dan, under his breath. "Pap can take the
job if he wants to, but I won't tech it. I am getting tired of doing
such hard work, and am on the lookout for something easy."

"I think I have better work for you, Joe," continued the visitor;
whereupon Dan, who had thrown himself at full length on the bank,
straightened up and began listening with more eagerness. "It is
something that will take up every moment of your time during the day,
and if you do your duty faithfully, you will find the work quite as
hard and wearisome as chopping wood, and more confining; but you will
have your evenings to yourself, and abundant opportunity to do as
much reading and studying as you please. You know that one of our
greatest men, Martin Van Buren, laid the foundation of his knowledge by
studying by the light of a pine-knot on the hearth after his day's work
was over. But you will not have to do that. I will give you a warm,
comfortable house to live in, supply your table from my own, lend you
books from my library, and furnish you with a lamp to read and study
by. If you lay up a little information on some useful subject every
day, you will have quite a store on hand by the time winter is over."

"What sort of a job is that, do you reckon?" said Dan to himself. "It's
a soft thing, so far as the perviding goes, but what's the work? that's
the p'int."

It must have been the very question Joe was revolving in his mind, for
when Mr. Warren ceased speaking, he asked:

"What will you expect me to do in return for all this?"

"I am coming to that," answered the visitor, moving a step or two
nearer to Joe, while Dan leaned as far forward as he could, stretched
out his long neck and placed one hand behind his ear, so that he might
catch every word. "You know that I have about six thousand acres of
woodland, which is so utterly worthless that no man, who had his senses
about him, would take it as a gift if he had to clear and cultivate
it. It isn't even good enough for pasture; but it was a tolerably fair
shooting-ground until I was foolish enough to build that hotel down
there at the Beach. That brought in a crowd of city sportsmen, and
between them and the resident market-shooters, the game, both large and
small, has been pretty well cleaned out."

"Well, what of it," muttered Dan. "If I know anything about such
matters, them deer and birds and rabbits belonged to us poor folks as
much as they did to you."

"I like to shoot occasionally," Mr. Warren went on, "but the last time
I went up there with a party of friends, we did not get enough to pay
us for the tramp we took; so two years ago I went to considerable
expense to restock those woods, and even offered to pay the
market-shooters if they would let the birds alone until they had time
to increase. But they wouldn't do it, and the consequence was that the
English partridges and quails that cost me six dollars a pair were
served up on somebody's dinner-table."

"Six dollars a pair!" whispered Dan, who could hardly believe that he
had heard aright. "Pap didn't by no means get that much for them he
shot. It's nice to be rich."

"My experience with those birds," continued Mr. Warren, "proved to my
satisfaction that they are hardy and able to endure our severe winters.
So I determined to try it again, and day before yesterday I turned down
a hundred pairs of English partridges and quails--six hundred dollars'
worth."

Dan was almost ready to jump from the ground when he heard this, and it
was all he could do to refrain from giving audible expression to his
delight.



CHAPTER VI.

THE YOUNG GAME-WARDEN.


"Whoop-pee!" was Dan's mental exclamation. "I've struck a banana. Me
and pap I'll get rich the first thing you know. But what makes old man
Warren come here to tell us about it?"

"I certainly hope you will be able to preserve them this time," said
Joe, who could not see what these expensive birds had to do with the
comfortable home, the unlimited supply of books, and the good living,
of which his visitor had spoken. "It would be a great pity to lose them
after going to so much trouble and paying out so much money for them."

"That's what I think, and it is what Mr. Hallet thinks, also. You know
his wood-lot adjoins mine--there is no fence between them--and he has
turned down the same number."

The eavesdropper fairly gasped for breath when he heard this; but
quickly recovering from his amazement, he raised his hands before his
face, with all the fingers spread out, and began a little problem in
arithmetic.

"That makes--makes--le' me see! By Moses it makes twelve--twelve
hundred dollars' worth of birds. I'm going to sell that old
muzzle-loader of mine the first good chance I get, and buy a
breech-loader, and one of them j'inted fish-poles, and some of them
fine hunting clothes, and--whoop-pee! I've struck two bananas; and
I'll look as spick and span as the best of them city sportsmen by this
time next year. But look a-here, a minute, Dan," he added, to himself,
confidentially, "Don't you say a word to pap about them birds that's
been turned loose on Hallet's place. Them's your'n, and you don't go
halvers with no living person."

"The difficulty in preserving them lies right here," said Mr. Warren.
"Our native birds are protected by law during certain months in the
year, but the law doesn't say a word about imported game. If I catch
a man shooting over my grounds in the close season, I can have him
arrested and fined; but he could shoot these English birds before my
face, and I could not help myself. We hope some day to induce the
Legislature to pass a law protecting imported as well as native game;
but until we can do that, we must protect it ourselves to the best of
our ability. We have men at work now posting our land, and hereafter
any one who sets a foot over my fence or Hallet's will be liable for
trespass.

"I reckon you'll have to catch him before you can prove anything agin
him, won't you?" soliloquized Dan. "But why don't he tell that Joe of
our'n what he wants of him?"

"Of course, Mr. Hallet and myself have enough to do without spending
valuable time in watching these birds," added the visitor, "and so we
have decided to employ game-wardens to do it for us. There will be
two wardens, one for each place, and we shall pay them out of our own
pockets. I have selected you because I believe you to be honest and
faithful, and I know that you are ambitious to better your condition.
I am always on the lookout for such boys, and when I find one I like to
give him a helping hand."

"Then it's mighty strange that you never diskivered me," said Dan,
to himself. "If there's anybody in the world who wants awful bad to
be something better'n the ragged vagabone he is, I am that feller.
Dog-gone such luck as I do have, any way! Why didn't he offer that soft
job to me, instead of giving it to that Joe of our'n? I am older'n
he is, and it would be the properest thing for me to have the first
chance."

"It is worth something to live up there in the woods alone for
eight months--from the first of September to the last of April--but
your surroundings will be as pleasant as they can be made under the
circumstances. In the first place, there is a tight log-house, with a
carpet on the floor, and a lean-to behind it to serve as a wood-shed.
You know that the fierce winter winds drive the snow into pretty
deep drifts up there in the mountains, and if you are as provident
as I think you are, you will keep that shed full. You don't want to
turn out of a stormy morning, when the mercury is below zero, to cut
fire-wood, when you ought to be scattering grain around for the birds
to eat. There is plenty of furniture in the cabin, and all the dishes
you will be likely to need. I have spent a good many months in camp,
first and last, and being posted, I don't think I have forgotten
anything. Your pay, which you can have as often as you want it, will be
fifteen dollars a month," said Mr. Warren in conclusion. "That is as
much as farm-hands command hereabout, and you will be much better off
than a woodchopper, because you will be earning money all the while, no
matter how bad the weather may be. What do you say?"

Dan listened with all his ears to catch his brother's reply, but, to
his great surprise, Joe did not make any reply.

"What's the fool studying about, do you reckon?" was the inquiry which
Dan propounded to himself. "Why don't he speak up and say he'll take
it? If he does, me and pap will have easy times with them birds, 'cause
of course Joe wouldn't be mean enough to pester us. But if he don't
take it, and old man Warren gets somebody else for game-warden, then
the case will be different, and me and pap will have to watch out."

"You don't say anything, Joe," continued Mr. Warren, seeing that the
boy hesitated and hung his head. "If you must work during the coming
winter instead of going to school, I don't think you can find any
employment that will be more to your liking."

"I know I couldn't, sir," replied Joe, quickly; "but that isn't what I
am thinking about. The fact is--you see--"

The boy paused and looked down at the ground again. He knew that his
own father was more to blame than any one else for the loss of the
birds that had been "turned down" in Mr. Warren's wood-lot two years
before, and it was not quite clear to Joe how his wealthy visitor could
have so much confidence in him. Why should he wish to employ the son of
the man who had robbed him, to keep trespassers off his grounds, and
exercise supervision over the new supply of game he had just purchased?

And there was another thing that came into his mind:

Silas Morgan and Dan were two of the most notorious poachers in the
county, and Joe knew that when the grouse season opened, they would
be the very first to shoulder their guns, call their dogs to heel and
start for Mr. Warren's woods.

If he accepted the position offered him, it would be his duty to order
them off. They wouldn't go, of course, and the next thing would be to
report them to Mr. Warren, who, beyond a doubt, would have warrants
issued for their arrest.

That would be bad indeed, Joe told himself; but would it cause him any
more sorrow than he felt whenever he saw his mother setting out on
one of those long fatiguing walks to the house of a neighbor, where
she earned the pitiful sum of a dollar by doing a hard day's work at
washing or scrubbing? The money he could give her every month would
save her all that, and provide her with many things that were necessary
to her comfort.

When Joe thought of his mother, his hesitation vanished.

"I'll take it, Mr. Warren," said he, with an air of resolution, "and
I am very grateful indeed to you for offering it to me. Now, will you
tell me when you want me to go up there, and just what you expect me
to?"

To Dan's great disappointment and disgust, Mr. Warren took Joe by the
arm, and led him away out of earshot; but he heard him say something
about shooting all the stray dogs that came into the woods, because
they would do more damage among the few deer that were left, than so
many wolves, and that was all he learned that day regarding Joe's
instructions.

"Luck has come my way at last!" exclaimed Dan, who, for some reason or
other seemed to be highly excited. "I can't hardly hold myself on the
ground. I'll go down to old man Hallet's this very minute, and tell him
that if he's needing a game-warden, I'm the chap he's waiting for. Then
mebbe I won't have a nice little house all to myself, and good grub to
grow fat on, as well as that Joe of our'n. I won't do no shooting,
'cause that would make too much noise, and give me away to old man
Hallet; but I'll do a heap of trapping and snaring, I bet you. Hallo!
who's them fellers?"

Dan had just caught sight of a large party of men, who were coming
along the road which led from the ferry to the Beach.

Believing that they were about to cross the river, and that there was
another hard pull in prospect with no money (for him) behind it, Dan
was about to take to his heels, when some words that came to his ears
arrested his footsteps.

The new-comers were the road commissioner and his party. They did not
look toward Dan at all, and neither did they take the least pains to
conceal the object of their visit from him.

"This is the place for the new bridge," said the surveyor. "It will
cost the town a good deal less money to fix up the old log road in good
shape, than it will to cut out and grade a new highway."

"And when the bridge is up, we shall be well rid of two
nuisances--Hobson's grog-shop and Morgan's ferry, neither of which
ought to have been tolerated as long as they have been," remarked one
of the twelve freeholders, who had been summoned by the commissioner to
determine where the bridge and the new road should be located. "When
the other bridge is demolished, and the lower road shut up, the travel
will have to come this way."

When Dan heard this, he felt like throwing his hat into the air. He
hated the tooting of that horn, which was kept hung up on the limb of a
tree on the other side of the river, as he hated no other sound in the
world; and he was glad to know that he would soon hear it for the last
time.

He did not make any demonstrations of delight, however, but stole
silently away to carry the news to his father.

Joe's good fortune, and his own bright dreams of becoming Mr. Hallet's
game-warden, at fifteen dollars a month, and the best kind of food
thrown in, were uppermost in his mind, and they were the first things
he intended to speak about when his father admitted him into the
cabin; but he was so long in coming to the point that Silas grew
impatient, and did not give him an opportunity to mention his own
affairs at all.

"No matter; they'll keep," thought the boy, as the ferryman put on his
hat and went out to talk to Hobson. "Now I wish old Warren would hurry
up and go about his business, so't I can find out what 'rangements he's
made with that Joe of our'n."

Dan had not long to wait. Even while he was communing with himself in
this way, Mr. Warren took his leave, first shaking Joe warmly by the
hand, and Dan lost no time in stepping to his brother's side.



CHAPTER VII.

BROTHERLY LOVE.


"I don't wonder that you look like you was half tickled to death," was
the way in which Dan began the conversation with his brother. "Did you
ever dream that me and you would have such amazing good luck as has
come to us this day? Now, let me tell you, it bangs me completely.
Don't it you?"

Joe did not know how to reply to this. He had seldom seen Dan in so
high spirits, and he could not imagine what he was referring to when he
spoke of the good luck that had fallen to both of them.

"Say--don't it bang you?" repeated Dan. "Ain't me and you going to live
like the richest of them this winter?"

"You and I?" said Joe, with no suspicion of the truth in his mind.

"That's what I remarked," exclaimed Dan, who could hardly keep from
dancing in the excess of his joy. "I tell you, Joe," he added,
confidentially, "if there's anything in life I take pleasure in, it's
living in the woods during the winter, when you've got a tight roof to
shelter you and plenty of firewood to burn, so't you don't have to go
through the deep snow to cut it. That's what I call living, that is."

"I don't see how you happen to know so much about it. You never tried
it."

"I know I never did; but didn't I tell you almost the very first word I
said, that I'm going to try it this winter?"

"Oh!" said Joe, who now thought he began to understand the matter. "Are
you going to be Mr. Hallet's game-warden?"

"Perzackly. You've hit centre the first time trying."

"Then I wonder why Mr. Warren did not say something to me about it."

And there was still another thing that caused Joe to wonder, although
he made no reference to it. How did it come that Mr. Hallet, who knew
how persistently Dan broke the law in regard to snaring birds and
hares, and shooting out of season--how did it come that he had selected
this poacher to act as his game-warden? He might as well have hired a
wolf to watch his sheep.

"Now wait till I tell you," said Dan hastily. "The thing ain't quite
settled yet, 'cause I ain't had no time to run down and see old man
Hallet; but--"

"Aha!" exclaimed Joe.

"There ain't no 'aha' about it," cried Dan, who was angry in an
instant. "Wait till I tell you. I ain't been down to see old man Hallet
yet, but I'm going directly, and I'm going to say to him that if he
wants somebody to keep an eye on them birds of his'n, I'm the man he's
looking for. He'll be glad to take me, of course, 'cause if there's any
one in the whole country who knows all about a game-warden's business,
its me. But if he can't take me--if he has picked out another man
before I get a chance to speak to him--me and you will go halvers on
them hundred and twenty, won't we?"

"No, we won't," replied Joe, promptly.

"What for, won't we?" demanded Dan.

"For a good many reasons. In the first place, Mr. Warren seems to think
that he needs but one warden, and that I can do all the work myself."

"Well, you can't, and you shan't, neither," Dan almost shouted.

And in order to show his brother how very much in earnest he was about
it, he struck up a war-dance, and called loudly for somebody to hold
him on the ground.

"And in the next place," continued Joe, who had witnessed these
ebullitions of rage often enough to know that they never ended in
anything more serious than an unnecessary expenditure of breath and
strength on Dan's part--"in the next place, every cent I make this
winter will go to mother, with the exception of the little I shall need
to clothe myself."

"I'll bet you a good hoss that it don't," roared Dan, who was so angry
that it was all he could do to keep from laying violent hands upon his
brother. "Now let me tell you what's the gospel truth, Joe Morgan: If
you don't go pardners with me in this business, I'll bust up the whole
thing. If I don't get half them hundred and twenty dollars, you shan't
have a cent to bless yourself with. I've been kicked and slammed around
till I am tired of it, and I ain't going to ask my consent to stand it
no longer."

"If you want money, go to work and earn it for yourself," said Joe.
"You can't have any of mine."

"I'll show you whether I will or not. Now, let me tell you: I'll make
more out of them birds this winter than you will. You're awful smart,
but you'll find that there are them in the world that are just as smart
as you be."

"I know what you mean by that," answered Joe, who had fully made up
his mind to see trouble with Dan. "Now let me tell _you_ something: If
I catch you on Mr. Warren's grounds after I take charge of them, you
will wish you had stayed away, mind that. I took this position because
mother needs money, and having accepted it, I shall look out for my
employer's interests the best I know how. But why do you go against me
in this way? You ought to help me all you can."

"Then why don't you help me?" retorted Dan.

"You don't need it. You are able to help yourself, because you have no
one else to look out for."

"Then I won't help you, neither. You want to keep a close watch over
that shanty of your'n, or the first thing you know, you will come back
to it some dark, cold night, almost froze to death, and it won't be
there."

Joe walked off without making any reply, and Dan stood shaking his
fists at him until he disappeared. Then he turned about to find himself
face to face with his father, to whom he told his story, not forgetting
to make a few artful additions, which he hoped would have the effect of
making the ferryman as angry at Joe as he was himself.

A disinterested listener would have thought that Joe was the meanest
brother any fellow ever had, and that Dan was deserving of better
treatment at his hands.

"Now, I just want you to tell me what you think of that," said Dan,
as he brought his highly-seasoned narrative to a close. "He's a most
scandalous stingy chap, that Joe of our'n is. He wants to keep his good
things all to himself. And--would you believe it, pap, if I didn't tell
you?--he said he would as soon shoot your dog or mine as look at 'em,
and that if we come fooling around where he was, he'd have us tooken
up, sure pop."

Silas Morgan's eyes flashed, and an angry scowl settled on his swarthy
face.

Dan was succeeding famously in his efforts to arouse his father's ire
against the unoffending Joe--at least he thought so--and he hoped to
increase it until it broke out into some violent demonstration.

"Them's his very words, pap," continued Dan, with unblushing mendacity.
"Since he took up with that rich man awhile ago, he has outgrowed his
clothes, and me and you ain't good enough for him. Me and Joe could
have had just the nicest kind of times up there in the woods, and by
doing a little extry work on the sly, we could have snared enough of
old man Warren's birds, and Hal--um!"

Dan caught his breath just in time. He was about to say that he and
Joe could have snared enough of Mr. Warren's birds and Hallet's to run
the amount of their joint earnings up to two hundred dollars; but he
suddenly remembered that his father was not yet aware that Mr. Hallet's
covers had been freshly stocked, and that _that_ was a matter that was
to be kept from his knowledge, so that Dan could have the field to
himself.

But the ferryman was quick to catch some things, if he was dull in
comprehending others, and Dan had inadvertently given him an idea to
ponder over at his leisure.

"But then I don't care for such trifling things as birds any more,"
said Silas to himself. "If Hallet has been fooling away his money for
more pa'tridges, Dan can have the fun of shooting 'em, if he wants it;
and while he is tramping around through the cold looking for 'em, I'll
be snug and warm at home, living like a lord on the money I took out of
that cave up there in the mountings. What was you saying, Dannie?"

"I said that me and Joe could have made right smart by doing a little
trapping on the quiet," answered Dan. "But he wouldn't hear to my going
up there to live with him. What's grub enough for one is grub enough
for two, and I could have had piles of things that come from old man
Warren's table, and never cost you a red cent the whole winter. More
than that, being on the ground all the while, it wouldn't be no trouble
at all for me to knock over one of them deer now and then, and that
would save you from buying so much bacon; but that mean Joe of our'n
he wouldn't hear to it, and now I'm going to knock all his 'rangements
higher'n the moon."

"What be you going to do, Dannie?" Silas asked, in a voice so calm
and steady that the boy backed off a step or two and looked at him
suspiciously.

Was his father about to side with Joe? Dan was really afraid of it,
and his voice did not have that resolute ring in it when he answered:

"I'm going to set some snares up there where Joe won't never think of
looking for them, and by the time Christmas gets here I'll have every
one of them English birds in the market and sold for cash."

The ferryman thrust one hand deep into his pocket, and shook the other
menacingly at Dan.

"Look a-here, son," said he, in a tone which he never assumed unless he
meant that his words should carry weight with them, "you just keep away
from old man Warren's woods, and let them English birds be. Are you
listening to your pap?"

"What for?" Dan almost gasped.

"'Cause why; that's what for," was the not very satisfactory answer.
"You want to pay right smart heed to what I'm saying to you, 'cause if
you don't, I'll wear a hickory out over your back, big as you think you
be."

"Well, if this ain't a trifle the beatenest thing I ever heard of, I
don't want a cent," began Dan, who was utterly amazed. "Do you want
them--that rich feller to have all the fine shooting to himself?"

"That ain't what I'm thinking about just now," replied the ferryman. "I
want Joe to earn them hundred and twenty dollars; see the p'int?"

"Not all of it?" exclaimed Dan.

"Yes, every cent."

"Can't I make him go pardners with me?"

"No, you can't. I want Joe to have the handling of it all."

"Then you won't never see none of it; you can bet high on that."

"Yes, I reckon I'll see the whole of it. You and Joe ain't twenty-one
year old yet, and the law gives me the right to take every cent you
make."

For a moment Dan stood speechless with rage and astonishment; but
quickly recovering the use of his tongue, he squared himself for a
fight, and demanded furiously:

"And is that the reason you never give me a red for breaking my back
with that ferry? Whoop! hold me on the ground, somebody!"

"If I had a good hickory in my hands, I reckon I could very soon make
you willing to hold yourself on the ground," said his father, calmly.

"Whoop!" yelled Dan, jumping into the air, and knocking his heels
together. "This bangs me; don't it you? The men who was here just now
said you was one nuisance, and Hobson was another; and I am so glad
that the business is clean busted up, that--"

Silas suddenly thrust out one of his long arms, but his fingers closed
upon the empty air instead of upon Dan's collar. The boy escaped his
grasp by ducking his head like a flash, and then he straightened up and
took to his heels.



CHAPTER VIII.

JOE'S PLANS IN DANGER.


Silas Morgan made no attempt at pursuit, for he had learned by
experience that he could not hold his own with Dan in a foot-race; but
he knew how to bide his time.

"Never mind, son," he shouted. "I'll catch you to-night after you have
gone to bed."

"These threatening words arrested Dan's headlong flight, and he stopped
to shout back:

"You just lay an ugly hand onto me, and it'll be worse for you and
them setter dogs that you've got shut up in the wood-shed. I know well
enough that nobody ever give 'em to you, and that that man with the
long black whiskers who was here last year would be willing to give
something handsome--"

The ferryman couldn't stand it any longer, for the boy was getting too
near the truth to suit him. He began looking about on the ground for
something to throw at him; whereupon Dan turned and took to his heels
again, and quickly disappeared around the corner of the cabin.

"I wish that black-whiskered man had them setter dogs, and that I was
shet of them," muttered Silas, as he walked slowly up the bank. "I did
think that mebbe I could get a big reward for giving them back; but I
don't care for such things now. The money that's hid in the cave is
what I'm thinking of these times."

The ferryman was left to his own devices for the rest of the day; for
Joe, highly elated over his unexpected fortune, had gone to meet his
mother, so that he might tell her the good news without being overheard
by any of the rest of the family, and Dan was on his way to Mr.
Hallet's to offer him his services as game-warden.

But Silas was glad to be alone at this particular time, for he had
something mysterious and exciting to think about--a cave in the
mountains that had an abundance of treasure in it. He had long looked
forward to something of this sort, for he had often dreamed about it;
and when he read in a torn newspaper, which came from the store wrapped
around one of his wife's bundles, that some workmen, while digging for
the foundations of a public building in a distant city, had come upon
an earthen jar that was filled to the brim with American and Mexican
coins of ancient date--when he read this, Silas took it as an omen that
his bright dreams of acquiring wealth without labor were on the eve of
being realized.

The man's first care was to let out the dogs and unhitch the horse from
the wood-rack, and his second to hunt up a shady spot on the bank and
look for the letter which he had stowed away in his pocket.

But it was not to be found. The ferryman's clothes, like all the other
things that belonged to him, were sadly in need of repairs, and when
he went to shut up the dogs, the letter had worked its way through
his pocket, down the leg of his trowsers, and fallen to the ground
in front of the wood-shed door, where it lay until Dan came along and
picked it up.

Meanwhile Joe was strolling leisurely along the road in the direction
from which he knew his mother would come, when her day's work was over.

"She will be glad to learn that she has done her last washing and
scrubbing for other folks," the boy kept saying to himself. "When
winter comes, and the roads are blocked with drifts, she can sit down
in front of a warm fire and stay there, instead of wading through the
deep snow to earn a dollar. I am in a position to take care of her
now, and I could do it easy enough if father and Dan would only let me
alone. They call me stingy because I will not share my hard earnings
with them; but they never think of sharing with me, nor did I ever see
one of them give mother anything. On the contrary, if they know that
she's got a dime or two saved up for a rainy day, they never give her a
minute's peace till they get it for themselves. Now, is there any way I
can work it so that mother can have everything she wants, and yet be
able to say that she hasn't got a cent in the house?"

While Joe was revolving this problem in his mind, he heard a familiar
bark behind him, and faced about to see his brother Dan approaching on
a dog-trot. He was followed by the only friend and companion he had in
the world--a little black cur, which no self-respecting boy would have
accepted as a gift.

But mean and insignificant as he looked, Bony was of great use to his
master. He was the best coon, grouse and squirrel dog in the country
for miles around, and it was by his aid that Dan earned money to buy
his clothes and ammunition. Bony got more kicks than caresses in return
for his services, but that did not seem to lessen his affection for Dan.

"I allowed that I knew where you was gone, and that I'd come up with
you directly," said the latter, as soon as he arrived within speaking
distance. "Say, Joe, have you thought over that little plan of mine?"

Joe replied that he had not.

"Then, why don't you think it over?" continued Dan. "Of course, I don't
expect you to go pardners with me for nothing. I've got my consent to
do all I can to help you. I'll even agree to cut the wood, cook the
grub, keep the shanty in order, and do all the rest of the mean work,
while you are taking your ease or looking after the birds. All you've
got to do is to say the word, and me and you will have the finest kind
of times this winter."

But Joe didn't say the word. In fact, he did not say anything, and,
of course, his silence made Dan angry again. The latter was bound to
handle at least a portion of his brother's wages, and he did not care
what course he took to accomplish his object.

"You ain't forgot what I told you awhile back, I reckon, have you?"
said Dan, with suppressed fury.

"No, I haven't forgotten it. I can recall everything you said to me."

"Then, why don't you pay some heed to it? Do you want to see your
business busted up? Look a here, Joe Morgan: You say you are going to
give all that there money to mam. If you do, I'll have some of it in
spite of you. I'll tell mam that I want my share, and she'll hand it
over without no words, 'cause she knows well enough that I'll turn the
house out doors if she don't do as I say. She's heard me calling for
somebody to hold me on the ground, and she don't like to see me that
way, 'cause she knows I'm mad."

"I know that you have worried a good deal of money out of mother, first
and last," said Joe, angrily, "but you needn't think you can frighten
her into giving you any of mine, because she won't have any."

"You stingy, good-for-nothing scamp! you're going back on your mam, are
you?" shouted Dan, who could scarcely believe that he was not dreaming.
"I never thought that of you. You're going to have the softest kind of
a job all winter, and make stacks and piles of money, and never give a
cent of it to mam, be you?"

"Mother will have everything she wants, but still she will not touch a
cent of my earnings," answered Joe, calmly.

"Whoop! Hold me on the ground, somebody!" yelled Dan, striking up his
war dance. "Then how'll mam get the things she wants?"

"On a written order, and in no other way."

"Who'll give that there order?"

"Mr. Warren, whom I shall ask to act as my banker. I've got to do
something to keep you from bothering the life out of mother, and that
is what I have decided upon."

"Whoop!" shouted Dan again. "Pap won't agree to no such bargain as that
there, I bet you, and neither will I."

"What has father got to say about my business?"

"He's got a good deal to say about it, the first thing you know,"
answered Dan, with a triumphant air.

His only object in hastening on to overtake his brother was that he
might torment him by calling his attention to a point of law that Joe
had never thought of before.

"You ain't twenty-one year old yet, my fine feller, and pap's got the
right to make you hand over every red cent you earn. He told me so;
and he furder said that he was going to take the last dollar of them
hundred and twenty that you are going to make this winter. So there,
now. I told you that there was them in the world that's just as smart
as you think you be, and me and pap are the fellers. He's a mighty hard
old chap to get the better of, pap is, and so be I. You can't do it
nohow you fix it."

It looked that way, sure enough, thought Joe, who was greatly surprised
and bewildered.

He knew very well that his father could take his earnings, if he were
mean enough to do it, but, as we have said, the matter had never been
brought home to him before. He had always given his money to his
mother, and Silas had never raised any objection to it.

The reason was because he did not think of it, and besides, the amounts
were too small to do him any good; they were not worth the rumpus which
the ferryman knew would be raised about his ears if he interfered and
tried to turn Joe's earnings into his own pocket.

But things were different now. The young game-warden's prospective
wages amounted to a goodly sum in the aggregate, and Silas was resolved
to "turn over a new leaf," and assert his authority as head of the
house.

Joe, on the other hand, was fully determined that his mother alone
should profit by his winter's work, and as he was a resolute fellow,
and as fearless as a boy could be, it was hard to tell how the matter
was destined to end. But there was trouble in store for him; there
could be no doubt about that.

"What do you say now?" asked Dan, who had little difficulty in reading
the thoughts that were passing through his brother's mind, they showed
so plainly on his face. "You're thinking of kicking agin me and pap,
but I tell you that you'd best not do it. Will you be sensible and go
pardners, or have your business busted up?"

"Neither," answered Joe, turning so fiercely upon his persecutor that
the latter recoiled a step or two. "Now, if you don't let me alone, I
will go to Mr. Warren and see if he can find means to make you."

"Sho!" said Dan, with a grin, "you don't mean it?"

"Yes, I do. It may surprise you to know that you have put yourself in
danger of being locked up."

"Not much, I ain't," said Dan, confidently. "I ain't done a single
thing yet."

"But you have made threats, and Mr. Warren could have you put under
bonds."

"He'd have lots of fun trying that," replied Dan, who laughed loudly at
the idea of such a thing. "Why, man, I ain't got none."

"Of course you haven't, and you couldn't furnish them either, so you
would have to go to jail."

"Great Moses!" Dan managed to ejaculate.

There was no grin on his face now, nor even the sign of one. He was
astonished as well as frightened.

It had never occurred to him that his brother could invoke the law to
protect him, but he saw it plainly enough now, and he knew by the way
Joe looked at him that he had been crowded just about as far as he
intended to go.

When the latter moved on down the road, Dan made no attempt to stop
him. He backed toward a log, sat down on it, and kept his eyes fastened
upon Joe until a bend in the road hid him from view.



CHAPTER IX.

VOLUNTEERS.


"I don't know what answer to make you, boys. I have no desire to
interfere with your pleasures, and I think you have always found me
ready to listen to any reasonable proposition; but this latest scheme
of yours looks to me to be a little--you know. I don't believe that
Bob's father will consent to it."

"Suppose you give your consent, and then we will see what we can do
with Bob's father. If we can say that you are willing, he'll come to
terms without any coaxing."

"I don't see what objection there can be to it. We can't get into
mischief up there in the mountains, and we'll promise to study hard
every spare minute we get. There!"

"And be fully prepared to go on with our class when the spring term
begins. Now!"

The first speaker was Mr. Hallet, who leaned back in his easy-chair and
twirled his eye-glasses around his finger, while he looked at the two
uneasy, mischief-loving boys who stood before him.

Tom Hallet was his nephew and ward, and Bob Emerson was the son of an
old school-friend who lived in Bellville, ten miles away.

Bob, who was a fine, manly fellow, was a great favorite with both uncle
and nephew, and had a standing invitation to spend all his vacations
with them at their comfortable home among the Summerdale hills.

To quote from Bob, Mr. Hallet's house was eminently a place for a tired
school-boy to get away to. The fishing in the lake, and in the clear,
dancing streams that emptied into it, was fine; young squirrels were
always abundant after the first of August; and when September came, the
law was "off" on grouse, wild turkeys and deer. Hares and 'coons were
plenty, and Tom's little beagle knew right where to go to find them.
Better than all, according to the boys' way of thinking, Mr. Hallet was
a jolly old bachelor, who thoroughly enjoyed life in a quiet way, and
who meant that every one around him should do the same.

Taking all these things into consideration, it was little wonder that
Bob Emerson looked forward to his yearly "outings" with the liveliest
anticipations of pleasure.

The Summerdale hills, in days gone by, had been a hunter's paradise;
but, sad to relate, their glory was fast passing away, like that of
many another place which had once been noted for the abundance of its
game and fish.

Mr. Warren, to use his own language, had been foolish enough to build a
hotel at the Beach, and to connect it with Bellville by a stage route.
This brought an influx of strangers, some of whom called themselves
sportsmen, who did more to depopulate the woods and streams than Silas
Morgan, Hobson, and a few others of that ilk, could have accomplished
in a year's steady shooting and angling.

Their advent gave rise to a class of men who had never before been
known in that region--to wit, guides. There were some good and honest
ones among them, of course; but, as a rule, they were a shiftless,
lawless class--men who lived from hand to mouth, and who looked upon
game laws as so many infringements of their rights, which were to be
defied and resisted in any way they could think of.

Up to the time the hotel was built, these men lived in utter ignorance
of the fact that there were laws in force which prohibited hunting and
fishing at certain seasons of the year; but one year the District Game
Protector came up on the stage to look into things, and when he went
back to Bellville he took with him a guide and his employer, whom he
had caught in the act of shooting deer, when the law said that they
should not be molested.

This unexpected interference with their bread and butter astonished
and enraged the rest of the guides, who at once held an indignation
meeting, and resolved that they would not submit to any such outrageous
things as game laws, in the making of which their opinions and desires
had not been consulted.

They boldly declared that they would continue to hunt and fish whenever
they felt like it, and any officer who came to the hills to stop them
would be likely to get himself into business.

A few of the residents, including Mr. Warren and Mr. Hallet, had tried
hard to bring about a better state of things.

They had gone to the expense of restocking their almost tenantless
woods, and had been untiring in their efforts to have every poacher
and law-breaker arrested and punished for his misdeeds; but all they
had succeeded in doing thus far was to call down upon their heads the
hearty maledictions of the whole ruffianly crew, who owed them a grudge
and only awaited a favorable opportunity to pay it.

This was the way things stood on the morning that Tom Hallet,
accompanied by his friend Bob, presented himself before his uncle, with
the request that he would permit them to keep an eye on his English
partridges and quails during the ensuing winter--in other words, that
he would empower them to act as his game-wardens.

Mr. Hallet was not at all surprised, for the boys had sprung so many
"hare-brained schemes" on him, that he was ready for anything; but
still he took a few minutes in which to consider the proposition before
he made them any reply.

"What in the world put that notion into your heads, anyway?" said Mr.
Hallet, continuing the conversation which we have so unceremoniously
interrupted. "Is it simply an excuse to get out of school for the
winter?"

The boys indignantly denied that they had any idea of such a thing.
They liked their school and everything connected with it; but they
thought it would be fun to spend a few months in the woods. And since
Uncle Hallet would have to employ somebody to act as game-warden, or
run the risk of having all his costly birds killed by trespassers, why
couldn't he employ them as well as any one else?

"Well, you two do think up the queerest ways for having fun that I even
heard of," said Mr. Hallet. "I know something about camp-life, and you
don't; and I tell you--"

"Why, Uncle," exclaimed Tom, "haven't we already spent a whole week in
camp since Bob came up here?"

"A whole week!" repeated Mr. Hallet. "Yes, and it tired you out, and
you were glad enough to get home. I know that 'camping out' looks very
well on paper, but I tell you that it is the hardest kind of work, even
for a lazy person, to say nothing of a couple of uneasy youngsters,
who can't keep still for five minutes at a time to save their lives.
Besides, how do I know that you wouldn't shoot some of my blue-headed
birds, as Morgan calls them?"

"Don't you suppose that we know a ruffed grouse from an English
partridge or quail?" demanded Tom. "We are not so liable to make
mistakes in that regard as others might be. Who is Mr. Warren going to
hire for his warden?"

"I believe he has gone up to Morgan's to-day to speak to Joe about it."

"I don't know how that will work," said Bob, reflectively. "Joe is all
right, but his father and brother are not, and I am afraid they will
make trouble for him."

"I thought of that, and so did Warren," answered Mr. Hallet, "and it
is a point that you two would do well to consider before you insist
on going into the mountains this winter. I am told that Hobson is
furious over the opening of the new road, and that he and a few of
his friends have threatened to burn the houses Warren and I built up
there in the woods, and to drive out anybody we may put there to act as
game-wardens."

When Tom and Bob heard this, they exchanged glances that were full of
meaning.

Uncle Hallet's words showed them that there was a prospect for
excitement during the coming winter, and the knowledge of this fact
made them all the more determined to carry their point.

"Oh, you needn't look at each other in that way," said Mr. Hallet, with
a laugh. "I know what you are thinking about, and I have no notion of
allowing you to do something to get these poachers and law-breakers
down on you. However I am going to the village directly, and perhaps
I'll drop in and see what Bob's father thinks about it."

"Don't forget to tell him that we have your full and free consent,"
began Tom.

"But I haven't given it," interrupted Mr. Hallet, adjusting his
eye-glasses across the bridge of his nose and reaching for his paper.

"And that we shall go along with all our lessons just as fast as the
boys in school will," chimed in Bob.

"I'll not forget it; but I shall be much surprised at your father if he
believes it."

Uncle Hallet resumed his reading, and the boys, taking this as a hint
that he had said all he had to say on the subject, put on their hats
and left the room.

"It's all right, Bob," said Tom, gleefully.

"I am sure of it," replied Bob. "We've got Uncle Hallet on our side,
and it will be no trouble for him to talk father over. Now let's finish
that letter to Mr. Morgan, and then go up and put it in his wood-pile."

So saying, Bob went up the stairs three at a jump, Tom following close
at his heels.



CHAPTER X.

WHY THE LETTER WAS WRITTEN.


When the boys reached the landing at the head of the stairs, they
turned into Tom's room, the door of which stood invitingly open.

Bob seated himself at a table and picked up a pen, while Tom leaned
over his shoulder and fastened his eyes upon the unfinished letter, to
which reference was made at the close of the last chapter.

"Let's see--how far did we get?" said the latter. "I believe we were
talking about a bank they were supposed to have robbed somewhere in
California. Well, say that they took a pile of money--seventy thousand
dollars out of it. But I say, Bob! That's awful bad printing. I don't
know whether Silas can make out to read it or not."

"Then let him get somebody to help him," answered Bob. "I can't be
expected to furnish him with the key, after going to so much trouble to
write the letter."

"But if he can't read it, what use will it be to him?" asked Tom.

"Probably he's got friends who can spell it out for him, and I'm sure
I don't care how much publicity he gives it. 'And there we took out
seventy thousand dollars,'" said Bob. "Go on; what next? They went to
Canada after that, didn't they? There is where all the crooks go these
days."

"Put it down, anyway. 'So we went to Canady (be careful about the
spelling) and staid there till the country got too hot for us.'
That reads all right," said Tom, throwing himself into the big
rocking-chair, and wondering, like the minister in the "One-Hoss Shay,"
what the Moses should come next. "Don't forget to say something about
the 'hant' who guards the treasure in the cave."

"Can't you wait till I come to the cave?" replied Bob, who could not
print the letter as fast as his friend could think up things to put
into it. "I don't altogether approve of this ghost business, anyway.
I am afraid it will scare the old fellow so badly that he will make no
attempt to find the treasure that is concealed in the cave."

"Don't you worry about that," Tom replied. "All we've got to do is to
word the letter so that he will believe the money is really there, and
he will go after it, even if he knew that he would have to face all
the ghosts that ever haunted the Summerdale hills; and their name is
legion, if there is any faith to be put in the stories I have heard."

"I say, Tom," exclaimed Bob, throwing down his pen and settling-back
in his chair, "wouldn't it be a joke if some of those same ghosts
should take it into their heads to visit us during the winter? It must
be lonely up there in the mountains, when the roads are blocked with
drifts, and all communication with the outside world is cut off, and
wouldn't we feel funny if we should hear something go this way some
dark and stormy night--b-r-r-r?"

Here Bob uttered a hollow groan, drew his head down between his
shoulders, and tried to shiver and look frightened.

"No doubt it would; but we shan't hear anything go this way--b-r-r-r,"
replied Tom, imitating Bob's groan as nearly as he could. "Now I think
you had better go on with that letter, and I will draw the map that is
to guide him in his search for the robbers' cave and plunder. We've
wasted a good hour and a half already; and if we don't hurry up, we
shan't be able to give him the letter to-day. Let me think a moment!
There's a deep gorge about a quarter of a mile from Morgan's wood-pile,
and I don't believe it has ever been explored. That would be a good
place to put the cave, wouldn't it?"

Bob said he thought it would, and went on with his writing, while Tom
hunted up a piece of paper and began drawing the map.

Bob pronounced it perfect when his friend presented it for his
inspection, and indeed it ought to have been. There was no one in
the neighborhood who was better acquainted with the hills than Silas
Morgan, and if the map had guided him to a place that really had no
existence, except in Tom's imagination, he would have known in a minute
that somebody was trying to play a trick upon him.

The letter was finished at last, to the entire satisfaction of both the
boys, and the next thing was to put it where the man for whom it was
intended would be sure to find it.

Do you ask what it was that suggested to them the idea of making the
shiftless and ignorant ferryman the victim of one of their practical
jokes?

Simply an accident, coupled with the want of something to do, and their
innate propensity to get fun out of everything that came in their way.

On the previous day they made it their business to stand guard over the
English partridges and quails which Uncle Hallet had "turned down" in
his wood-lot, and it so happened that they stopped to eat their lunch
within a short distance of Silas Morgan's wood-pile, but out of sight
of it. They heard the creaking of the ferryman's old wagon, as his
aged and infirm beast pulled it laboriously up the steep mountain-side,
and not long afterward the setters, which accompanied Silas, wherever
he went, spied out their resting-place.

But the animals did not give tongue, as they would no doubt have done
if the boys had been utter strangers to them. They thankfully ate the
bits of cracker and broiled squirrel that were tossed to them, and then
went back to wait for Silas.

"That man has no more right to those valuable dogs than I have," said
Bob. "They're worth a hundred dollars apiece, and no one ever gave a
guide that much money in return for a single day's woodcock shooting.
Who is he talking to, I wonder?"

"To no one," answered Tom. "He likes to talk to a sensible man, and he
likes to hear a sensible man talk; consequently, he has a good deal to
say to Silas Morgan. That's the fellow he is talking to."

And so it proved. The ferryman was engaged in an animated conversation
with the ferryman, asking and answering the questions himself, and so
fully was his mind occupied with other matters, that it never occurred
to him that possibly his words might be falling upon ears for which
they were not intended.

Tom and his companion had no desire to play the part of eavesdroppers.
They were not at all interested in what Silas was saying to himself--at
least they thought so; but it turned out otherwise.

Having finished their lunch, they began making preparations to set out
for home; but in the meantime Silas reached the wood-pile, and, leaning
heavily upon his wagon, he gave utterance to his thoughts in much the
same words as those we used at the beginning of this story.

"I just know that I wasn't born to do no such mean work as I've been
called to do all my life," declared Silas, stooping over, and throwing
the perspiration from his forehead with his bent finger. "I can't get
my consent to slave and toil in this way much longer, while there are
folks all around me who never do a hand's turn. They can loaf around
and take their ease from morning till night, while I--wait till I
tell you. Such things ain't right, and I won't stand it much longer.
The other night I dreamed of that robber's cave, with piles of gold
and greenbacks into it, and yesterday I read about the finding of
that earthen crock that was plumb full of money; so't I know I shall
be a rich man some day. 'Pears to me that day isn't so very far off,
neither. If I should come up here some time and find a letter telling
me where there was a robber's cave with stacks and piles of money in
it, I shouldn't be at all astonished; would you?"

"Not in the least," whispered Bob, giving his friend a prod in the ribs
with his elbow; whereupon Tom laid his finger by the side of his nose
and winked first one eye and then the other, to show that he fully
understood Bob.

"Stranger things than that have happened," continued Silas, in a voice
that was plainly audible to the two boys behind the evergreens, "and
I don't see why it can't happen to me as well as to anybody else.
Wouldn't that be a joyful day to me, though? I'd bust up that flat the
very first thing I did, and tell the fellers that tooted the horn that
I was done being servant for them or anybody else. No, I wouldn't do
that, either," added Silas, after reflecting a minute. "I'd give it to
Dan and Joe to make a living with, and then I wouldn't have to spend
any of my fortune on their grub and clothes."

"What a stingy old hulks he is!" whispered Bob, as the ferryman took a
reluctant step toward the wood-pile. "I say, Tom, don't you think there
is a robber's cave about here somewhere? I should think there ought to
be, with so many ghosts hanging around. It don't look to me as though
they could be here for nothing."

"That's what I think," replied Tom, in the same cautious whisper. "I
shouldn't wonder a bit if there was a freebooter's stronghold somewhere
in these mountains."

"With lots of money in it?" continued Bob.

"Piles of it," said Tom. "As much as there is in the treasury at
Washington."

Bob turned toward his friend with a look of indignant astonishment on
his face.

"And you knew it all the time, and never told Silas about it!" he
exclaimed. "Can't you see how badly he wants it, and how confident he
is that he is going to get it? You ought to have attended to it long
ago."

"You're very right," said Tom, meekly. "Now I will tell you what I'll
do: If you will print a letter--it must be printed, you know, for Silas
can't read writing--telling how the money got into the cave in the
first place, I'll draw a map that will aid him in finding it."

Bob said it was a bargain, and the two boys shook hands on it; after
which they again turned their attention to the ferryman, who kept up
his soliloquy while he was loading the wood on the wagon. The burden of
it was that his lot in life was a very hard one, that he never worked
except under protest, and that he firmly believed that the future had
something better in store for him.

Tom and his companion went home, fully determined that if they lived to
see the dawn of another day, Silas should find the wished-for letter in
his wood-pile.

They took one night to "sleep on it," and make up their minds just what
they wanted to say to him, and bright and early the next morning they
went to work.

By their united efforts they finally produced the letter which we laid
before the reader in the third chapter; but they were a long time about
it. Every sentence and suggestion had to be weighed and discussed at
length, and it was when Tom remarked that he would like to see the
upshot of the whole matter, that a bright idea suddenly occurred to Bob.

"We can stay up there to-morrow, and see what he will do when he finds
the letter," observed the latter, "but we can't run to the top of the
Summerdale hills every day to watch him go after the money, can we?
It's too far, and-- Say, Tom, let's ask Uncle Hallet to make us his
game-wardens."

"Oh, let's!" exclaimed Tom, who was always ready for anything that had
a spice of novelty or adventure in it. "Of course, we shall have to
live up there in the woods, the same as Mr. Warren's man does."

"To-be-sure. Then we shall be right on the ground, and it will be but
little trouble for us to keep track of Morgan's movements. If he tries
to find the cave, we may be on hand to give him a scare."

"Well, that's a black horse of another color," said Tom, looking down
at the floor, in a deep study. "Silas Morgan never goes into the woods
without his double-barrel for company, and he is so sure a shot that
I don't think it would be quite safe for the spectre of the cave to
materialize while he is around."

Bob hadn't thought of that before, nor did he stop to think of it now,
because it was a matter that could be settled at some future time. It
was enough for him to know that Tom was strongly in favor of the rest
of his scheme, and the two posted off to find Uncle Hallet, and see
what he thought about it.

The result of the conference they held with him, so far as it was
reached that day, we have already chronicled. We must now hasten on and
tell what happened in and around the Summerdale hills after Silas found
and lost the letter, and Dan got hold it.



CHAPTER XI.

THE PLOT SUCCEEDS.


Tom's map having been duly examined and approved, and Bob's letter read
and commented upon, the latter folded them both up together and placed
them in an envelope, which he sealed with a vigorous blow of his fist.

"I suppose it ought to have a stamp on it, in order to make it look
ship-shape," said he, "but I haven't got two cents to waste in addition
to the time and exhausting mental effort I have spent upon the
production of this interesting and important communication. I ought to
put a hint of its contents upon the envelope, I should think."

"By all means," answered Tom. "Print anything that occurs to you,
so long as it will excite his curiosity and impel him to a further
examination. How does this strike you: 'Notis to the lucky person
in to whose han's this dockyment may hapen to fall.' That sounds all
right, doesn't it? Well, put it down, and then add something about the
'hant' that watches over the cave."

For a few minutes Bob's pen moved rapidly, and at last he drew a long
breath of relief and slammed the blotting-paper over what he had
written.

"It's done, I'm glad to say, and the next time we find it necessary
to communicate with Mr. Morgan, or with any other gentleman who has
not gone deep enough into the arcana of letters to be able to read
good, honest writing, we'll hire a cheap boy to do the printing for
us. Now, what shall we take besides our lunch? I don't want to carry
my breech-loader up to the top of the mountains for nothing. I know
it weighs only seven and a quarter pounds, but I'll think it weighs a
hundred before I get back."

"If you will sling your pocket-rifle case over your shoulder, I'll take
my little tackle-box, and then we shall be fully equipped," replied
Tom. "We'll be sure to get a young squirrel or two while we are going
by the corn-field, and I know a stream in which there are still a few
trout to be found."

Acting upon his friend's advice, Bob put the letter into his pocket,
and picked up the neat leather case in which his little rifle reposed,
while Tom seized his tackle-box and led the way to the kitchen.

A few minutes later they left the house, with a substantial lunch
stowed away in a fish-basket which Tom carried under his arm, and bent
their steps toward Silas Morgan's wood-pile, where they arrived after
an hour's fatiguing walk up the mountain.

The first thing in order was a reconnaissance in force, followed by a
careful inspection of the ground, both of which satisfied them that
they had reached the spot in ample time to carry out all the details of
their scheme. The wheel-marks in the ground were not fresh, and neither
were the footprints, and this proved that the ferryman had not yet been
up after his daily load of wood.

"He is later than usual," said Bob. "I hope nothing has happened to
keep him away, for I wouldn't miss being around when he gets the
letter for anything. It will be as good as a circus."

"There he comes now!" exclaimed Tom, as a series of dismal wails arose
from the valley below. "Don't you hear the creaking of his wagon? Shove
the letter into the end of this stick, and then we'll dig out for the
place where we ate lunch yesterday. We can hear and see everything from
there."

Bob hastily complied with his friend's suggestion, inserting the letter
into a crack in a protruding stick in so conspicuous a position that
Silas would be sure to see it, if he made any use whatever of his eyes,
and then the two boys betook themselves to their hiding-place behind
the evergreens.

In due time the ferryman came in sight. He was clinging with both hands
to the hind end of the wagon, and if he had let go his hold he would,
beyond a doubt, have rolled clear back to the bottom of the hill, not
being possessed of sufficient life and energy to stop himself.

Whenever the horse halted for a short rest, which he did as often
as the idea occurred to him, Silas raised no objections, but leaned
heavily upon the wood-rack and rested, too, talking earnestly to
himself all the while.

He was so long in reaching the wood-pile that the boys became very
impatient; but when he got there and found the letter, the fright and
excitement he exhibited, and the extraordinary contortions he went
through, amply repaid them for their long waiting.

Bob's prediction, that "it would be as good as a circus," was
abundantly verified. They observed every move he made, and heard
every word he said. They were especially delighted to see him climb
the wood-pile, and reach over and take possession of the letter; and
when he snatched up the knotted reins and fell upon the horse with
his hickory, because the animal would not move in obedience to his
whispered commands, Bob caught Tom around the neck with both arms, and
the two rolled on the ground convulsed with merriment.

When they recovered themselves sufficiently to get up and look through
the evergreens again, they saw Silas disappearing around the first
turn in the road; but he was in sight long enough for them to take note
of the fact that he was stepping out at a much livelier rate than they
had seen him accomplish for many a day. When the trees hid him from
view, Tom and Bob sat down on the ground and looked at each other.

"Well," said the former, wiping the tears from his eyes, "so far so
good. Now, what comes next?"

"Nothing more of this sort to-day; at least I hope not," answered Bob.
"I couldn't stand another such a laughing spell right away, unless I
could give full vent to my feelings. I thought I should split when I
heard Silas say that he didn't know whether or not he could get his
consent to touch that letter."

Silas being safely out of hearing by this time, there was no longer any
reason why Bob should restrain his risibilities, and he gave way to a
hearty peal of laughter, in which Tom joined with much gusto.

"It was when he went through his antics on top of the wood-pile that I
came the nearest losing control of myself," said the latter, as soon
as he could speak. "I didn't suppose that there was so much ignorance
and superstition in this whole country as that man has given us proof
of this day."

And neither did Tom imagine that while he and Bob were writing that
letter, "just for the fun of the thing," they were setting in motion a
series of events which were destined to create the greatest excitement
far and near, and to come within a hair's-breadth of ending in
something very like a tragedy.

It was a long time before the boys had their laugh out. Tom, who was an
incomparable mimic, went through the whole performance again, for his
own delectation as well as for Bob's benefit, reaching for invisible
letters, and climbing imaginary wood-piles, and so perfectly did he
imitate the ferryman's actions, and even the tones of his voice, that
Bob at last jumped to his feet, slung his rifle over his shoulder, and
hastened away, declaring that he could not stand it any longer.

The first thing the two friends did, after they became sobered down
so that they could do anything, was to retrace their steps to the
corn-field, where they hoped to secure an acceptable addition to the
lunch that was in Tom's creel.

Nor were they disappointed; the game they sought was out in full
force; Bob's diminutive rifle spoke twice in quick succession, and two
young squirrels, after being neatly dressed and wrapped in buttered
tissue-paper, were placed in the basket with the lunch.

Then the boys went in quest of the trout stream of which Tom had
spoken. When Bob got down to it, and saw what a place it was in, he did
not wonder that there were still a few fish to be found in it. On the
contrary, he wondered if there had ever been any taken out of it. He
had never seen an angler, no matter how enthusiastic and long-winded he
might be, who would willingly stumble through five miles of trackless
woods, climb over as many miles of tangled wind-fall, and scramble
down the almost perpendicular side of that deep gorge, for the sake of
catching a few trout, and he did not hesitate to tell Tom so.

"Wait till you see the beauty I am going to snatch out from under that
log in less than a minute after I drop in my hook," said the latter,
who carried his open knife in his hand, and was looking about among the
bushes for a pole to take the place of the split bamboo he had left at
home. "But you needn't grumble, young man. You may see the day when
you will be willing to tramp farther than this to have the pleasure of
depositing a single trout in your creel."

"When things get as bad as that I won't go trout-fishing," said Bob,
in reply. "I'll take it out on black bass in the lake. Besides, these
trout are not at all high-toned. They don't know enough to take a fly,
and there's no fun in fishing with any other bait."

"We're not looking for fun now; we're after our dinner," answered
Tom, who, having found a pole to suit him, was kicking the bark off
a decayed log in search of a grub to put on his hook. "Would it
inconvenience you to stir around and get a fire going? You might as
well have your scales ready, too; there's a trout under that log that
weighs about-- There he is!"

Sure enough, there he was.

While Tom was speaking he dropped his hook into the water, and before
the white grub on it had sunk out of sight, it was seized by a monster
trout, which turned and started for the bottom with it, only to find
himself yanked unceremoniously out of his native element, and by a
dexterous movement of his captor's wrist, landed at Bob's feet on the
opposite bank.

"I haven't elbow-room for any display of science in handling fish,"
said Tom, as his companion unhooked the prize and quieted his struggles
by a blow on the head with the handle of his heavy knife. "Main
strength and awkwardness are what do the business in these tangled
thickets. What do the scales say in regard to his weight?"

"A pound and nine ounces," replied Bob. "Now suppose you hand over that
pole and see if I can catch one to match him."

Tom, who was quite willing to comply, jumped across the brook and set
to work to kindle a fire and get the dinner going, while Bob took the
rod and threaded his way through the thick bushes toward another
promising hole which his friend told him of, farther up the stream.

He was not gone more than twenty minutes, and when he came back he
brought with him three trout, one of which was larger and heavier than
Tom's.

Bob could easily have taken more but did not do it, because he knew
that he and Tom could not dispose of them. He knew, too, that they
would be a drug in the home market, Uncle Hallet having often declared
that he had eaten so many trout since Bob came to his house that it was
all he could do to keep from jumping into every puddle of water he saw.

The boys were adepts at forest cookery, and hungry enough to do full
justice to their dinner.

When the meal was over, the only dish they had to wash was the small
tin basin in which their tea was made, the squirrels and trout having
been broiled over the coals on three-pronged sticks cut from the
neighboring bushes.

After an hour's rest they put out the fire by drenching it with water,
which they dipped from the brook with their drinking-cups.

Bob often paused in his work to look up at the high bank above, which
was so steep that the top seemed to hang over the bed of the stream,
and finally he declared that it would take so much of his breath and
strength to get up there that he wouldn't have any left to carry him
over the five miles of wind-fall that lay between the gorge and Silas
Morgan's wood-pile.

"Well, then, we'll follow the brook," said Tom. "It will take us to
the lake, if we stick to it long enough, or we can turn out of the
gorge when we reach the place where our robber's cave is supposed to be
located. What kind of traveling we shall find I don't know, for I have
never been down this gulf; but I do know that we shall have farther to
walk than if we go back the way we came."

Bob at once declared his preference for the "water route," reminding
his companion that the longest way around is often the shortest way
home.

He felt relieved after that, for he dreaded the almost impassable
wind-fall over which his tireless friend had led him a few hours
before; but whether or not it was worse than some things that happened
as the result of his decision, and which he was destined to encounter
before the winter was over remains to be seen.



CHAPTER XII.

A MYSTERY.


The traveling in the gorge was quite as difficult as the two friends
expected to find it. The bushes on each side were so thick that they
could not walk on the bank, and the bed of the stream was covered with
rocks and boulders, over which they slipped and stumbled at every step.

Now and then the way was obstructed by deep, dark pools which would
have gladdened the eye of an angler, for it is in such places that the
"sockdolagers" of the brook abide. But Tom and his companion looked
upon them as so many obstacles that were to be overcome with as little
delay as possible.

They floundered through them without stopping to see how deep they
were, and before they had left their camp half a mile behind, their
high rubber boots were full of water.

The gorge was beginning to grow dark when Tom, after taking a survey of
the bank over his head, announced that they were just about opposite
Silas Morgan's wood-pile, and that it was time for them to find a place
to climb out.

"I am overjoyed to hear it," said Bob, seating himself on the nearest
boulder. "But it's going to be hard work to get up there, the first
thing you know, because we've got several pounds more weight to carry
than we had when we started. This is worse than the windfall."

While Bob was resting, Tom walked slowly down the gorge, hoping to find
a spot where the bushes were not so thick, and the bank easy of ascent;
but before he had gone a dozen yards, his footsteps were arrested by an
occurrence that was as startling as it was unexpected.

The thicket in front of him was suddenly and violently agitated, and
an instant afterward there arose from it the most blood-curdling
sound the boys had ever heard. An Indian war-whoop could not compare
with it--they were certain of that. It was not a shriek, a laugh or a
groan, but it was a combination of all three; and it was so loud and
penetrating that the echoes caught it up and repeated it, until the
hideous sound seemed to fill the air all around them.

Tom came to a sudden standstill, and the face he turned toward his
companion was as white as a sheet.

Bob was frightened, too, but he retained his wits and his power of
action, and his first thought was to put a safe distance between
himself and the thing, whatever it was, that could make a noise like
that.

Without saying a word he arose from his seat, dived into the bushes and
began scrambling up the bank. How he got to the top he never knew (he
afterward affirmed that in some places the bank was as straight up and
down as the side of a house), but he reached it in an incredibly short
space of time, and turned about to find Tom close at his heels.

"What in the name of sense and Tom Walker was it?" panted Bob,
pulling out his handkerchief and mopping his forehead, on which the
perspiration stood in great beads.

"I give it up," gasped Tom. "It must be something awful, if one may
judge by the screeching it is able to do. I heard a couple of laughing
hyenas give a solo and chorus in a menagerie once, and I thought I
should never get the sound out of my ears; but that thing in the gulf
can beat them out of sight. I'm going home now, but I'll come up here
to-morrow with Bugle and Uncle Hallet's Winchester, and if I can make
the dog drive him out of the bushes so that I can get a fair sight at
him, I'll pump him so full of holes that he'll never make any more of
that noise."

Tom at once drew a bee line for his uncle's house, and Bob fell in
behind him. When they reached the wood-pile, he proposed that they
should sit down and rest and compare notes. He was still quite nervous
and uneasy, while Bob, who had had leisure to look at the matter in all
its bearings, was as serene and unruffled as usual.

"Well, what do you think of it by this time?" inquired the latter.

"I don't think anything about it," replied Tom; "it is quite beyond me.
But this much I know: That thing has got to be 'neutralized' before I
will consent to come up here and live as Uncle Hallet's game-warden."

"Aha!" exclaimed Bob, with a laugh, "didn't you assure me that we
wouldn't hear anything go b-r-r-r?"

"Yes, and I'll stick to it; but there's something in these mountains
that I don't want to hear screaming around our cabin this winter, now I
tell you. What kind of a beast do you think it was, anyway? You heard a
panther screech while you were hunting in Michigan last winter. Did he
make a noise like that?"

"No," answered Bob; "it wasn't a beast, either."

"What makes you say that?"

"I have two very good reasons. In the first place, if there are any
animals in these mountains that are more to be feared than the wolves,
they have found hiding-places so secure that the hunters have not been
able to discover them for ten years and better. In the next place, if
that thing in the gulf is a beast of prey, he would not have given us
notice of his presence. He would have waited till we came close to the
bushes so that he could jump out and grab one of us."

"That's so," said Tom. "Well, go on; what was it?"

"You placed our robbers' cave down there, didn't you?"

"Oh, get out!" exclaimed Tom; "I'm in no humor for nonsense. I was
badly frightened, and I haven't got over it yet."

"Neither have I. I am in dead earnest. There's somebody down there in
the gulf, and he took that way to let us know that he didn't want us to
come any nearer to him."

"It was Silas Morgan, for a million dollars!" exclaimed Tom, who needed
no more words to convince him that his friend's reasoning was correct.
"It's perfectly clear to me now. He didn't waste any time in going
after that money, did he?"

"Quite the contrary. He has been so very quick about it, that I'm
inclined to believe it wasn't Silas at all; but if it was he, why is he
camping there?"

"Camping?" repeated Tom.

"Yes. Just before that horrid shriek came out of the bushes, I thought
I could smell burning wood; but I didn't have time to call your
attention to it."

"Perhaps the mountain is on fire somewhere."

"Oh, I guess not. If that was the case, we'd smell the smoke now,
wouldn't we?"

"That's so," said Tom, again. "Well, who's down there?"

"I'm sure I don't know; but I am satisfied that it is some one who has
reasons for keeping himself hidden from the world. Now, what's to be
done about it?"

"I don't see that we are obliged to do anything, unless we want to make
ourselves a laughing stock for the whole country," replied Tom, who had
had time to form some ideas of his own. "I couldn't be hired to tell
Uncle Hallet of it, because he would ask, right away, 'Why didn't you
go ahead and find out what it was that frightened you? You are pretty
fellows to talk about living up there alone in the woods this winter,
are you not?' And he'd never leave off poking fun at us. No doubt there
is a party of guests from the hotel down there, and one of them yelled
at us just for the fun of seeing us scramble up the bank. I only wish
they might stay there long enough to play the same game on Silas Morgan
when he comes after the money that is hidden in the cave."

The two friends spent half an hour or more in comparing notes after
this fashion, but they did not succeed in wholly clearing up the
mystery. They both agreed that it was a man, and not a savage beast of
prey, that was hidden in the gulf; but who the man was, where he came
from, and what he was doing there, were other and deeper questions,
which probably never would be answered.

"I'll tell you what's a fact, Bob," said Tom, as he arose from the
ground and led the way down a well-beaten cow-path that ran toward his
uncle's barn, "We are not the only fellows in the world who like to
play tricks upon others, and I'll venture to say that there is some
one in the gorge at this minute who is laughing at us as heartily as
we laughed at Silas Morgan when he found the letter that we put in his
wood-pile. The guests at the hotel come up here to have fun, and they
don't care much how they get it."

"Perhaps you're right," replied Bob, who nevertheless still held to
the belief that there was some one in the gorge who was hiding there
because he dared not show himself among his fellow-men. "But if I were
sure of it, I should be very much ashamed of myself and you, too.
However, I don't see how we are to get at the bottom of the matter,
unless we go back and interview the party in the gulf; and I can't say
that I am anxious to do that."

There was still another point on which the boys fully agreed, and that
was that they would not say a word to Uncle Hallet about it; but the
latter heard of it, all the same, and it turned out that Tom was wide
of the mark when he insisted that some one had played a joke upon
himself and his companion.

The boys reached home just at supper-time, and found that Uncle Hallet
had returned from Bellville with good news for them. He had seen Bob's
father, and the latter, after declaring that it was one of the wildest
things he had ever heard of, and wondering what foolish notion those
two boys would get into their heads next, finally decided that since
Tom had made up his mind to live in the woods during the winter, Bob
might stay and keep him company.

"He desired me to tell you that he shall expect to hear a good account
of you, both as student and game-warden," said Uncle Hallet, shaking
his finger at Bob. "If you don't keep up with your class, or if you
neglect your business and allow some pot-hunter to kill off all my
English birds, so that there won't be any left for your father to shoot
when I invite him up here, he will be sorry that he didn't keep you
in school. What's the matter with you two anyway?" suddenly demanded
Uncle Hallet, who had a faint suspicion that the boys were not as
highly elated as they ought to have been. "This morning you were fairly
carried away with this new idea of yours, and now you don't seem to
say anything. Have you thought better of it already?"

The boys hastened to assure Uncle Hallet that they had not--that they
were just as eager to assume the duties of game-wardens as they had
ever been, and that that was the last night they expected to pass under
his roof for eight long months.

It was all true, too; but each of them made a mental reservation. If
the man in the gulf was a fugitive from justice, as Bob thought he was,
he might prove to be a very unpleasant fellow to have around, and until
he had been "neutralized," as Tom expressed it, they could not hope to
enjoy themselves.

They did not want to enter upon their duties feeling that there was a
portion of Mr. Hallet's preserves from which they were shut off by the
presence of one who had no business there.

"He suspects something," whispered Tom, as he and his friend arose from
the supper-table and made their way to their rooms. "Now I'll just tell
you what's a fact. I am going wherever I please in my uncle's woods,
and any one who tries to turn me back will get himself into trouble."

"I am with you," was Bob's reply. "If that howling dervish has settled
down there for the winter, how shall we get rid of him?"

Tom couldn't answer that question, so he said that perhaps they had
better sleep on it, and that was what they decided to do.



CHAPTER XIII.

DAN IS SCARED.


When Mr. Warren's newly-appointed game-warden turned away from Dan and
went on down the road to meet his mother, he left behind him one of the
maddest boys that had ever been seen in that part of the country.

In spite of all he had said to the contrary, Dan had no intention of
asking Mr. Hallet to employ him to watch his birds and keep trespassers
out of his wood-lot, for he knew very well that if he proffered such a
request he would be met by a prompt and emphatic refusal.

Mr. Hallet was too well acquainted with his poaching propensities to
give his imported game into his keeping, and Dan was painfully aware of
the fact.

What he wanted more than anything else was that his brother should
accept him as a partner, so that he could handle half the earnings,
while Joe did all the work and shouldered all the responsibility; that
was the plain English of it. But Joe was resolved to paddle his own
canoe, and more than that, he had threatened to call upon a powerful
friend to make Dan behave himself, if he didn't see fit to do it of his
own free will.

"I've got be mighty sly about what I do," thought Dan, resting his
elbows on his knees and looking down at the ground, after kicking Bony
out of his way. "Don't it beat you when you think of the luck that
comes to some fellers, while others, who are just as good as they be,
and who work just as hard, can't make things go right no way they can
fix it? I tell you it bangs me. I ought to have help to drive that Joe
of our'n out of them woods, for, to tell you what's the gospel truth, I
don't quite like the idee of facing him alone. I can't fight agin him
and pap, with old man Warren throwed in."

While Dan was talking to himself in this way, he stretched his leg out
before him and drew from his pocket the letter he had found in front
of the door of the wood-shed. He little dreamed what an astounding
revelation it contained. He had not the slightest idea where it came
from, and neither could he have told why he picked it up.

He proceeded to examine it now, simply because he had nothing else to
occupy his mind, except his many and bitter disappointments, and he had
already expressed himself very feelingly in regard to them.

With great deliberation Dan spread the letter upon his knee, and, with
a caution which had become habitual to him, looked up and down the road
to make sure that there was no one in sight. Then he addressed himself
to the task of reading the "notis" that was scrawled upon the envelope;
but no sooner had he, with infinite difficulty, spelled out all the
words in it, than the letter fell from his nerveless fingers, and Dan
jumped to his feet and whooped and yelled like a wild Indian.

"Now don't it bang you what mean luck some fellers do have? Here's a--"

Dan checked himself very suddenly when he became aware that he was
shouting out these words with all the power of his lungs. Filled with
apprehension he looked up and down the road again, but as there was no
one in sight, he resumed his seat and went on with his soliloquy; but
this time he spoke in a much lower tone of voice.

"There's a fortune up there in the mounting, as much as two or three
hundred dollars mebbe, but I dassent go after it on account of the hant
that's up there," said Dan, to himself. "I've heared 'em say that them
hants cuts up powerful bad when anybody comes fooling around where they
be, and it ain't no use to think of driving them away, 'cause bullets
will go through 'em as slick as you please and never hurt 'em at all.
How come this dockyment in front of the wood-shed, do you reckon?"

Dan was greatly confused and excited, and it was a long time before he
could control himself sufficiently to pick up the envelope, take out
the inclosure and read it through to the end--or, to be more exact,
nearly to the end; for, as we shall presently see, Dan never had a
chance to read the whole of it. He kept up a running fire of comments
as he went along, and to have heard him, one would suppose that he had
long been looking for something of this sort.

That was hardly to be wondered at, for he had often heard his father
indulge in the most extravagant speculations concerning the future,
and Dan certainly had as good a right to waste his time in that way as
Silas had.

But when he came to read about the "hant" which bothered the writer so
persistently that he was obliged to jump into the lake in order to get
rid of him, Dan could stand it no longer. He got upon his feet, at the
same time returning the letter to the envelope and making a blind shove
with it at his pocket, and drew a bee-line for home.

He was so badly frightened that he could not run, and he was afraid
to look behind him. He glided over the ground with long, noiseless
footsteps, his lank body bent nearly half double, and his wild-looking
eyes roving from thicket to thicket on each side of the road in front
of him.

Presently the climax came. A squirrel, detecting his approach, sought
to escape observation by jumping from one tree to another, and he made
a great commotion among the light branches as he did so. The noise was
too much for Dan's overtaxed nerves.

"It's the hant, as sure as I'm a foot high," said he, in a frightened
whisper. "He can't pester t'other feller any more, 'cause he's gone and
drownded himself in the lake; but he's going to foller whoever has got
the letter telling where the fortune is, and that's me. I wonder could
I out-run him?"

Dan thought this a good idea, and he lost not a moment in acting upon
it. He was noted far and near for his lightness of foot, but no one
in the Summerdale hills had ever seen him run as he ran that day.
He hardly seemed to touch the ground; and the farther he went the
faster he went, because his increasing fear lent him wings. He was so
hopelessly stampeded that if the road had been crowded with teams or
people he would not have seen one of them. He did not slacken his pace
until he reached the wood-shed, and then he came to an abrupt halt
and looked behind him. There was no one in the road over which he had
passed in his headlong flight, and the woods were silent.

"Well, I done it, didn't I?" exclaimed Dan, drawing a long breath of
relief, and thrusting his hand into the pocket in which he thought he
had put the letter. "It ain't no use for anything that gets around on
two legs to think of follering me when I turn on the steam. Now, then,
where's that there--"

"That there what? And who's been a-follering of you?" demanded a
familiar voice, almost at his elbow.

Dan was frightened again. He looked up, and there stood his father, who
had been keeping up a persistent but of course fruitless search for the
letter ever since Dan went away.

One glance at his angry face was a revelation to the boy. He knew now
that Silas had lost the letter where he found it. Dan would have been
glad to take it out and hand it over to him--he didn't want anything
more to do with it after the experience he had already had with the
"hant"--but he found, to his unbounded amazement and alarm, that he
could not do it. He had dropped the letter somewhere along the road.

"Who's been a-follering of you? and what have you lost?" repeated
Silas, who began to have a faint idea that he understood the situation.

"There was a hant follering of me," replied Dan, as soon as he could
speak. "He was coming for me, 'cause I could hear him slamming through
the bushes; but I can run faster'n him, else I wouldn't be here now."

"You can't bamboozle your pap with no tale about a hant, for I don't
believe in such things," declared Silas, but his face told a different
story. He looked fully as wild as Dan did, and he was almost as badly
frightened. "Why don't you come to the p'int, and tell me that you have
lost the letter that was left in my wood-pile last winter, and which I
never seen till this morning? If you will tell me the truth about it,
I will tell you something that will make your eyes stick out as big as
your fist."

"And won't you larrup me for losing of it?" asked Dan, who saw very
plainly that it was useless for him to deny that he had once had the
letter in his possession.

"No, I won't do nothing to you; honor bright. Did you read what was
into it?"

"Not all of it. I didn't have time, on account of that hant, who
rattled the bushes behind me. When I heared that, I just shoved the
letter into my pocket and skipped out," replied Dan, who could not for
the life of him tell a thing just as it happened. "But it bangs me
where that letter is now, 'cause I ain't got it."

Dan expected that his father would go into an awful rage when he heard
this, and held himself in readiness to take to his heels at the very
first sign of a hostile demonstration; consequently he was very much
surprised to hear Silas say, without the least show of anger:

"It don't much matter, 'cause I had a chance to read all that was
into the letter, and take a good look at the map that come with it. I
know right where to look for that robbers' cave, but I shan't go down
that there rope, I bet you, for I don't want to dump myself into the
presence of that hant before I have a look at him. We'll go in at the
mouth of the gulf, and work our way up till we come to the hiding-place
of the money."

"We?" echoed Dan.

"Yes, me and you."

"Not much we won't," declared Dan, throwing all the emphasis he could
into his words.

"What for?" demanded Silas.

"'Cause why. It's enough for me, to hear hants a chasing of me. I ain't
got no call to go where they be, so't I can see 'em. I wouldn't go up
to that there cave if I knowed there was a thousand dollars into it."

"A thousand dollars!" repeated Silas. "Didn't you read in the letter
about the grip-sack with a false bottom to it?"

"I don't reckon I did," answered Dan, after thinking a moment. "The
hant scared me away before I got that far."

"Well, there's a grip-sack there," continued Silas, "and there's twelve
thousand dollars in bills and three hundred dollars in gold into it. I
was calkerlating all along that me and you would go snucks on it. Now,
will you hand over that letter, so't I can take another look at the map
and make sure that I know where the cave is?"

"Twelve thousand dollars in bills and three hundred more dollars in
gold!" gasped Dan, who could hardly believe his ears. "Pap, I would
give you the letter in a minute, but it's the gospel truth that I ain't
got it."

And to prove his words, Dan turned all his pockets inside out, to show
that they were empty.

"Then I reckon we'll have to go back along the road and look for it,"
said Silas, desperately. "That's a power of money, more'n I ever
thought to have in my family, and sposen somebody should come along and
find that there letter, and go up to the cave and steal it away from
us? Just think of that, Dannie!"

Dan did think of it, and it was the only thing that kept him from
beating a hasty retreat when his father spoke of going back to look for
the letter.



CHAPTER XIV.

THE "HANT."


"Now, let me tell you what's a fact," said Dan, after he had taken a
few minutes in which to consider his father's proposition. "I don't
reckon it will be any use for us to go back and try to find that there
letter. I'll bet anything that the hant has found it and carried it
miles away before this time."

"Dannie, what's the use of talking that way?" exclaimed Silas,
impatiently, "Don't you know that hants can't tote nothing away, 'cause
they're sperits? All they can do is to jump up in front of a feller and
frighten him; but they can't do no harm to you. We'll take our guns
along, and if he's fool enough to show himself we'll pepper him good
fashion."

"And never hurt him at all," said Dan. "He'll be just as sassy with his
hide full of bird-shot as he was before. Now, pap, you wait and see if
I ain't right."

Silas did not pay much attention to these words of warning, but
they were afterward recalled to his mind in a manner that was most
unexpected and startling. What he was thinking of just now was the
letter. He was very anxious to find it, for he was afraid that it might
fall into the hands of some one who would use it to his injury. When
he turned about and led the way into the cabin, Dan followed him with
reluctant steps.

"You needn't be no ways skeery about going up the road in broad
daylight," said Silas, encouragingly. "It ain't likely that that there
hant will go away from the cave and roam around the country, scaring
folks, for the fun of the thing. He ain't out there in the woods, and
you never heard him."

"I did, for a fact," protested Dan.

"I don't believe it, all the same," answered Silas, as he took down his
heavy double-barrel and measured the loads in it with the ramrod. "He's
come back to the cave to watch them five hundred pounds of money, and
see that nobody don't carry 'em away; and he'll never leave there."

"Then how are we going to get that fortune?" inquired Dan.

"We'll just walk right in and take it without saying a word to him,"
said Silas boldly. "I've heard my father tell that them hants can't
harm you if you ain't afraid of 'em."

"Well, I'll tell you one thing, and that ain't two," said Dan, as he
shouldered his gun and followed his father from the cabin. "I ain't a
going to run no risk. I'll help you find the cave, but I won't go into
it, I bet you. I don't want to hear something screeching at me through
the dark, and see great eyes of fire--"

"Don't Dannie!" exclaimed Silas, shivering all over, as if some one had
drawn an icicle along his back.

"Well, that's the way them hants do, ain't it?" asked the boy. "I'd as
soon be knocked in the head with a club as to have something scare me
to death. Come on, if you're coming. I ain't going ahead, and that's
all there is about it."

The two brave fellows were by this time fairly in the road, and Silas
was prudently slackening his pace, to allow Dan to get in advance of
him.

The latter's description of the greeting that would be extended to them
by the guardian spectre, when they went into the cave after the money
that was supposed to be concealed there, had taken all his courage away
from him, and, if there was any danger ahead, Silas did not want to be
the first to meet it.

Dan, who was quick to notice this, also slackened his own pace, and the
two walked slower and slower, until they came to a dead stop.

"I see what you're up to, old man," said Dan, shaking his clenched hand
at his sire, "and you might as well know, first as last, that you can't
play no such trick onto me. I'll stick close to you, and face the music
as long as you do; but you shan't shove me in front of you not one
inch."

It was no use for Silas to protest that he had no intention of doing
anything of the kind, for the case was too clear against him; so he
pushed ahead again, and Dan, true to his promise, kept close at his
side. They walked on for a quarter of a mile or more, holding their
guns in readiness for instant use, and never saying a word to each
other, and at last the deep silence that brooded over the surrounding
woods became too much for the ferryman's nerves. He broke it by saying,
in a suppressed whisper:

"You read far enough in that letter to know that there's five hundred
pounds of money into that there cave, didn't you? That's as much as me
and you both can pack away on our backs in one trip, and it beats me
how that feller could have toted it so far. Now where be we going to
hide it? That's what's been a bothering of me. Can't you think up some
good--Laws a massy! what's the matter of you?" exclaimed Silas; for Dan
suddenly seized his father's arm with a grip that made him wonder.

They were just going around the first turn in the road. Instead of
replying to his father's question in words, Dan raised his hand and
pointed silently toward the bushes a short distance away.

Silas looked, and was just in time to catch a glimpse of something
which got out of the range of his vision so quickly that he could not
tell what it was. He turned to Dan for an explanation.

"It's the hant," whispered the latter. "I know it is, for didn't he go
into them evergreens without making the least stir among the branches?"

Silas couldn't say whether he did or not, and neither did he stop to
argue the matter. Forgetting that he had brought his double-barrel
with him on purpose to "pepper" the ghost, in case he saw fit to make
himself visible, Silas faced about and took to his heels; but before
he had taken half a dozen steps, Dan flew past him as if he had been
standing still.

His father made a desperate effort to catch him as he went by, but Dan
sprang out of his reach and bounded onward with increased speed, never
stopping to take breath or to look behind him, until he found himself
safe in the cabin. When his father stepped across the threshold, a few
minutes later, Dan made all haste to close and lock the door.

"You're a purty son, you be, to run off and leave your poor old pap to
face the danger alone," said the ferryman, sinking into the nearest
chair and fairly gasping for breath. "I won't give you none of my
fortune when I get it, just to pay you for that mean piece of business."

"I don't care," answered Dan, doggedly. "You run first, and I wasn't
going to stay behind with that thing there in the bushes. I reckon
you're willing to believe now that he was a chasing of me a while ago,
ain't you? I tell you, pap, he follers the letter, and he'll never
leave off pestering the man that's got it. I'm glad it's lost."

"So be I," said Silas, who had not thought of this before. "He bothered
his pardner, who was the only one who knew that there was a fortune
in the cave, and his pardner had to jump into the lake to get shet of
him. It stands to reason, then, that he'll show himself to every one
who finds out about that money. I 'most wish that that letter hadn't
been put in my wood-pile, 'cause I can't rest easy while that hant is
loafing about here."

"Now I'll tell you this for a fact," added Dan. "You'd best let the
whole thing drop right where it is. The hant will be sure to foller
the money wherever it goes, and as often as you step out to your
hiding-place to get a dollar or two, you will find him there waiting
for you."

"Dannie," said Silas, slowly, "I'll bet you have hit centre the first
time trying. But it 'pears to me that if he wanted to keep the secret
of that cave hid from everybody, he ought by rights to have scared me
away when he saw me taking the letter out of my wood-pile."

"You can't never get the money, and that's all there is about it," said
Dan, confidently.

"Yes, we can!" exclaimed Silas, jumping up to put his gun back in its
place. "I've just thought of something, and I want you to tell me if
you don't think it about the cutest trick that was ever played on a
hant or anything else. He'll stay around where that letter is till some
one finds it, won't he?"

Dan thought it very likely.

"Then he'll go with the feller, to keep track of the letter, won't he?"

Dan was sure he would.

"And if it ain't found right away, he'll hang around so's to keep an
eye on it and see where it goes to. Don't you think he will?"

Dan replied that he did.

"Well, now, that's what I am going to work on," continued Silas,
gleefully. "The hant is out of the cave now--we're sure of that, for we
both seen him when he went into them bushes--and we must work things
so's to keep him out."

"You keep saying 'we' all the time," interrupted Dan, "and I tell you,
once for all, that I ain't going to have nothing to do with it. You can
have all the money, for I won't go nigh the cave."

"I don't ask you to," Silas hastened to assure him. "That's the trick I
was telling you about. All I want you to do is to walk up and down the
road to-morrow--it's getting too late to do anything to-day--and make
the hant believe that you're looking for the letter you lost."

"Well, I won't do it," said Dan, promptly.

"That'll keep him away from the cave," continued the ferryman, paying
no attention to the interruption, "and while he is watching you, I'll
slip up and gobble that fortune without asking any other help from you.
And I'll give you half, the minute I get my hands on to it--the very
minute."

"Well, I won't do it," said Dan, again. "Why don't you stay and watch
the hant, and let me go after the money?"

This proposition almost took the ferryman's breath away. He wouldn't
have agreed to it if the robber's treasure had been twice twelve
thousand dollars.

"Why, you don't know where the cave is," he managed to articulate.

"No more do you," retorted Dan.

"Yes, I do, 'cause I looked at the map. I can go right to it on the
darkest of nights."

"Here comes mam and that Joe of our'n, and so you'd best hush up," said
Dan, in a hurried whisper. "I ain't a going to play 'Hi-spy' all alone
with that there hant, and that's all there is about it. But I do hate
to give up my good clothes, and breech-loader and j'inted fish-pole,"
he added, after thinking a moment, "and mebbe I'll go with you up to
the cave to-morrow, and make him keep his distance while you go in and
bring out the money. Who knows but what the smell of powder and the
whistle of shot about his ears will scare him so't he will go away and
never come back?"

Silas caught the idea at once, and felt greatly encouraged by it; but
before he could say anything the door, which Dan had unlocked while he
was talking, was thrown open, and Mrs. Morgan and Joe came in.

The latter looked cheerful and happy, but it was plain that his mother
was worried and anxious. She knew that there would be trouble in that
house in just one month from that day.



CHAPTER XV.

JOE'S NEW HOME.


The ferryman and his family always arose at an early hour, and it was
probably more from force of habit than for any other reason, for Joe
and his mother were the only ones who did any work. The former kindled
the fire and laid the table, while Dan and his father loafed around and
watched them.

But on the morning following the events we have recorded in the last
chapter, these two worthies had something to talk about, so they went
out and sat under a tree on the bank of the river, and far enough away
from the cabin to escape all danger of being overheard.

Joe and his mother, however, did not bother their heads about them, for
they had their own affairs to talk over.

Joe was to enter upon his duties as game-warden that very day. Of
course he was impatient to see his new home, and to get his hands upon
some of those books that Mr. Warren had promised to lend him; but,
above all, he was anxious to earn something for his mother. She needed
a good long rest, and Joe was rejoiced to know that he would soon be in
a position to give it to her.

A night's refreshing sleep had an astonishing effect upon Dan and his
father. They did not talk or act much like the frightened man and boy
we saw running along the road a few hours before. They were as brave
as lions. Twelve thousand dollars in bills and three hundred dollars
in gold were well worth working for, and they repeatedly assured each
other that they were willing to face any danger in order to obtain them
for their own.

But there was one thing that Dan held to in spite of all the appeals
and arguments that his father could bring to bear upon him, and
that was, that the hant must be met and overcome, or outwitted, as
circumstances might seem to require, by their united forces. He wasn't
going philandering away in one direction, while his father went on
a wild-goose chase in another, because that wasn't the way to fight
ghosts.

"Then we'll stick together," said Silas, at length. "We'll hang around
the house till that Joe of our'n goes away, and then we'll fire off our
guns and load 'em up with heavier charges of shot, so't we'll be ready
for anything that comes along."

"I did want powerful bad to live up there in the woods this winter with
that Joe," said Dan, with something like a sigh of regret. "What he's
going to get he's sure of, but we ain't. I am going into this thing
to win, I tell you," he added, sticking out his lips and calling a
very reckless and determined look to his face. "I ain't a-going to let
no little brother of mine beat me. When I get started for that there
money, I'm going to have it before I turn back."

"That's the way to talk," said Silas, approvingly.

"Joe's going to give all he earns to mam, but I ain't," continued
Dan. "I am going to spend all my six thousand dollars for myself.
I'm going to have good clothes, and a breech-loading bird gun, and a
j'inted fishing-pole, and by this time next summer I'll be so much of
a gentleman that the folks who come here to hunt and fish will be glad
to hire me for a guide, 'cause they won't know that I am Dan Morgan at
all. They'll take me for somebody else."

"Course they will!" exclaimed Silas, bringing his heavy hand down upon
Dan's shoulder with such force that the boy shook all over. "Just bear
that in mind, son, when we find the cave. I'm 'most certain that the
hant won't show himself to us, for he'll be down the road somewhere,
looking for the letter you lost yesterday; but if he does come out, you
just say, 'six thousand dollars' to yourself, and walk right into him
with the bird-shot that's in your gun."

"And what'll you be doing?" queried Dan.

"Oh, I'll be there, and I'll shoot, too," replied Silas; and a stranger
would have thought that he was a man who never got frightened at
anything.

Just then Joe came to the door of the cabin and shouted, "Breakfast!"
and that put a stop to the conversation. There was little said while
they were seated at the table, for they were all busy with their own
thoughts. Silas and Dan wished from the bottom of their hearts that the
day was over, and that the robbers' treasure was safely stowed away in
a hiding-place of their own selection. Wouldn't they make good use of
some of it before many hours had passed away?

"That Joe of our'n feels mighty peart this morning," thought Dan,
glancing at his brother's radiant face. "He thinks he's smart because
he is going to earn a hundred and twenty dollars; but what would he
think of himself if he knew that I am going to have six thousand
dollars before night comes? Now I'll tell you what's a fact," added
Dan, who was firmly resolved that he would not come home empty-handed.
"When we get that money I'll make pap count out my share at once, and
then I'll take care to see that he don't know where I hide it. He'll
bear a heap of watching, pap will."

"I wonder what has come over Dan all on a sudden?" said Joe, to
himself. "I don't know when I have seen him look so pleasant before.
He's got an idea of some kind in his head, and if I am not constantly
on my guard I shall hear from him to my sorrow I wonder if there's
another boy in the world who has a brother as mean as Dan is?"

The latter, who was impatient to begin the serious business of the day
and get through with it, and have it off his mind, did not eat a very
hearty breakfast. He simply took the sharp edge off his appetite, and
then pushed back his chair and arose from the table.

Silas groaned inwardly, for now the ordeal was coming. He would have
been glad to put it off a little longer, but he knew that if he did
he would be accused of cowardice. Everything depended upon keeping up
Dan's courage. If the boy saw the least sign of faltering, the whole
matter, so far as he was concerned in it, would end then and there. He
would refuse to take a step toward the cave, and no amount of money
would have tempted Silas to go there alone. So he got upon his feet,
took down his gun and game-bag, and followed Dan out of the cabin.

Joe looked through the window without leaving his chair, and saw that
they were striking a straight course for Mr. Warren's wood-lot.

"Now just watch them," said he, bitterly. "They're going to begin the
slaughter of those English birds before I have time to get up there and
order them away. I don't see why they can't lend me a helping hand,
instead of trying by every means in their power to get me into trouble.
But I told Dan yesterday, that if I caught him in Mr. Warren's woods
I would report him, and he will find that I meant every word of it. I
shall not try to shield them any more than I would if they were utter
strangers to me. Good-by, mother; I must be off; I am sorry to see you
look so downhearted and sorrowful when you ought to be smiling and
happy, but I will do everything I can to bring about a different state
of affairs. You'll get the money I earn, in spite of all that father
and Dan can do to prevent it; you may depend upon that."

"It isn't the money I care for, Joe," said Mrs. Morgan between her sobs.

"I know it," replied Joe, hastily. "You want father and Dan to behave
themselves, and let me alone. So do I; and if they won't do it, I'll
make them."

Joe caught up the small bundle of clothing that had been made
ready for him while he was setting the table, shouldered his long,
single-barreled gun, kissed his mother good-by, and hurried away.

He did not follow directly after his father and Dan, but took a short
cut through the woods, and, at the end of an hour, had his first
look at the snug little cabin that was to be his home during the
winter--that is, if his brother or some other desperate poacher did not
get mad at him and burn it down.

Mr. Warren's double team stood in front of the open door, and that
gentleman and one of his hired men were busy transferring baskets and
armfuls of things from the wagon to the interior of the cabin.

"Well, Joe, you're on hand bright and early," was the way in which Mr.
Warren greeted his young game-warden, "and you are in light marching
order, too," he added, glancing at the boy's bundle, and wondering at
the size of it. "Mr. Hallet had to take one of his teams to move Tom
and Bob up to their house."

"Tom and Bob?" repeated Joe.

"Yes. Oh, you didn't know that Hallet had hired them for wardens, did
you? Well, he has; so you will have good neighbors, almost within reach
of you."

"Why, what in the world possessed them--"

"What possesses them to do a thousand and one things that nobody else
would ever think of," exclaimed, Mr. Warren, who knew what Joe was
going to say. "It looks to me like a foolish notion, and I'll venture
to say, that they will be glad enough to go home and stay there, after
they have stood one snow-storm up here in the mountains. They came well
prepared, though. They had two trunks, and they were full to the top.
But I like your way the best. When you go into the woods, go light,
even if you know that you are going to spend the most of your time in
a permanent camp. Come in, and see if we have forgotten anything."

Joe followed Mr. Warren into the cabin, and listened attentively while
he described the contents of the different bundles and baskets that
were scattered about the floor.

"Your carpet is in there--it was made to fit, so you will not have any
trouble with it--and in one of those baskets you will find a hammer and
tacks to put it down with. I have brought a few books and papers, which
will keep you busy until you can come down and make a selection from my
library to suit yourself. This is your cot, and I guess the bedding is
in there. That's a side of bacon, and here are your dishes and a supply
of provisions. When you get out, come down to my house and ask for
more."

As Mr. Warren spoke, he opened the door of a small safe that stood in
one corner near the fire-place, and showed Joe an array of well-filled
shelves. Among other things, there were a number of paper-bags, which
gave promise of better meals than the boy was accustomed to sit down
to at home.

"That door leads into your wood-shed, which I would advise you to fill
up with the least possible delay," continued Mr. Warren, "and there's
the axe to do it with. Hallet has given his nephew and that chum of his
permission to shoot all the grouse and squirrels they can eat, and I
will extend the same privilege to you; but you mustn't make a mistake
and knock over one of my English partridges for your dinner. Of course,
you know enough to shoot wolves, foxes, minks, and such varmints,
without being told, and if you see a half-starved hound in these woods,
hunting deer on his own hook, put a bullet into him without a moment's
delay."

"You mean a charge of buck-shot," said Joe.

"No, I mean a bullet; and there's the rifle, right there," replied the
gentleman, pointing to a Marlin repeater, which stood in the corner
opposite the safe.

Mr. Warren continued to talk in this way, while the hired man was
unloading the wagon, and when the last bundle had been carried into
the cabin, he bade his game-warden good-by, and drove off leaving him
to his reflections.



CHAPTER XVI.

JOE'S "FIRST OFFICIAL ACT."


Joe Morgan stood in front of the cabin, watching his employer as long
as he remained in sight, and then he went in and picked up the rifle.

"My first official act is going to be one that I would rather leave for
some one else to perform," said he, to himself. "I must hunt up father
and Dan, and tell them to make themselves scarce about here. I could be
as happy and contented as I want to be during the next eight months,
if they would only let me alone. With a business I like, to keep me
occupied while daylight lasts, plenty of books and papers to help me
pass the evening hours pleasantly, and a fair prospect of earning money
enough to make mother comfortable during the coming winter--what more
could a boy ask for? If father and Dan get into serious trouble by
trying to upset my arrangements, they must not blame me for it."

While Joe communed with himself in this way, he filled the magazine
with cartridges, which he took from a box he found on the table, and
went out, locking the door behind him.

But where should he go? That was the question. Mr. Warren's wood-lot
covered a good deal of ground, and the birds he was employed to protect
might be at the farthest end of it.

If that was the case, Silas and Dan with the aid of the three dogs they
had brought with them, could easily find some of the flocks, and create
great havoc among them with their heavy guns, before Joe could put a
stop to their murderous work.

"When snow comes I shall not have any of this trouble," soliloquized
the young game-warden. "I shall feed the birds near the cabin twice
each day, and that will get them in the habit of staying around so that
I can keep an eye on them; and I shall know in a minute if there are
any pot-hunters about, for I can see their tracks."

For an hour Joe worked hard and faithfully to find the two hunters, who
as he believed, had come up there to kill off Mr. Warren's imported
game, but he could neither see nor hear anything of them.

Finally he told himself that he did not think his father and Dan had
come to those woods, because the birds he put up did not act as though
they had been frightened before. If they had been shot at, Joe would
have heard the report of the gun.

"I'd give something to know what it was that took those two off in such
haste this morning," thought he. "They're up to some mischief or other,
or else the face that Dan brought to the table belied him. Well, it's
none of my business what they do, so long as they let my birds alone.
Hallo, here! I'm afraid that I am going to have more to do than I
thought for. Go back where you came from!"

As Joe said this he bent over quickly, caught up a stick, raised it
threateningly in the air, whereupon a brace of pointers, which had
just emerged from a thicket a short distance away, turned and beat a
hasty retreat, giving tongue vociferously as they went.

A moment later, suppressed exclamations of surprise arose from a couple
of men who were following the dogs, and who forthwith set themselves to
work to find out what it was that had sent the pointers back to them in
such a hurry.

Joe heard them making their way through the bushes in his direction,
but he did not say anything until he became aware that the invisible
hunters were stalking him with the same caution they would have
exhibited if he had been some dangerous beast of prey.

Fearing that in their excitement one or the other of them might send a
charge of bird-shot at his head without taking the trouble to ascertain
who or what he was, Joe called out:

"Go easy, there! There's nothing around here for you to shoot at."

The reply that came to his ears was the heaviest kind of an oath, and
the man who uttered it came through the thicket with such energy that
one would have thought he meant to do something desperate as soon as he
reached the other side of it. When he came into view, Joe recognized
him as a guide who had more than once been arrested and fined for
hounding deer and shooting game during the close season.

"What air you doing here, Joe Morgan?" he demanded, in savage tones.
"You thought to steal them p'inters, I reckon, didn't you? Get out o'
this, and be quick a doing of it, too!"

"Get out yourself," answered the game-warden. "I've more right here
than you have, and I'm going to stay; but if you know when you are well
off, you will lose no time in putting yourself on the other side of Mr.
Warren's fence. This land is posted, and you are liable for trespass."

The guide was both angry and astonished; but before he could make a
suitable rejoinder to what he regarded as Joe's insolence, the bushes
parted again, and the second hunter came out. He was the guide's
employer; Joe saw that at a glance.

"What's the trouble here?" were the first words he uttered.

"It's a pretty state of affairs, I do think," answered the guide.
"Here's this Joe Morgan, who takes it upon himself to say that we
shan't stay in these woods."

"Why not, I'd like to know?"

Brierly--that was the guide's name--turned toward Joe, and intimated
that, if he could, he had better explain the situation.

"I am Mr. Warren's game-warden," said the boy, taking the hint. "I have
been put here to watch his birds, and warn off all trespassers. This
land is posted, and you must know it. There's a notice on that tree
over there," he added, indicating the exact spot with his finger. "I
can see it from here; and when you saw it, you ought to have turned
back."

"How is this, Brierly?" exclaimed the guide's employer. "I paid you
handsomely for a good day's shooting, and you assured me that you knew
right where I could get it, without interference from any one."

"And you shall get it in these very woods, Mr. Brown," was the
guide's reply. "You told me that you didn't care how much them English
birds cost, or how bad old man Warren wanted to keep 'em for his own
shooting, you would just as soon have them as any other game; and
seeing that there ain't no law to pertect 'em, what's to hender you
from getting 'em? Send out the p'inters and come on. This fool of a
boy ain't got no power to make an arrest, and I'll slap him over if he
gives us a word of sass."

"I know that I have no authority to take you into custody, but I
can report you to one who has, and I'll do it before you are two
hours older, if you don't get out of these woods at once," said Joe,
resolutely.

"You will, eh?" Brierly almost shouted. "Then why don't you report
_them_ fellers?"

When the guide began speaking, it was with the intention of abusing
Joe roundly for his interference with their day's sport, but just then
there came an unexpected interruption.

It was a regular fusilade--four shots, which were fired as rapidly as
the men who handled the guns could draw the triggers.

Joe's heart sank within him. His father and Dan were slaughtering Mr.
Warren's blue-headed birds at an alarming rate in a distant part of the
wood-lot, and he was not there to stop them.

The guide must have been able to read the thoughts that were in Joe's
mind, for he repeated, with a ring of triumph in his tones:

"Why don't you report them fellers, and have them arrested?"

"Four shots," said Mr. Brown, admiringly. "They got in their work
pretty lively, didn't they? I have heard that these English partridges
and quails are the nicest birds in the world to shoot, and I'd give
twenty dollars if we could get a chance to empty four barrels at them
in that fashion. I wonder if they are good shots, and how many birds
they got."

When Mr. Brown said that he had given Brierly a handsome sum of money
to lead him to a place where he could have a good day's shooting among
Mr. Warren's imported game, he had given Joe a pretty good insight into
his character; but now, the boy was quite disgusted with him.

Could it be expected that ignorant fellows like Brierly would yield
willing obedience to the laws, when intelligent men deliberately
violated them because they wanted to brag over the size of the bags
they had made?

"They are good shots, Mr. Brown," said Brierly, with a grin. "I could
tell the noise them guns make among a million, and I know the names of
the man and boy who were behind them when they were fired. They were
Silas and Dan Morgan--this chap's father and brother."

"Well, he's a pretty specimen for a game-warden, I must say!" exclaimed
Mr. Brown. "No doubt he wants to keep all the fine shooting for his own
family. I don't believe a word he has said to us, and I think we can go
on with our sport without wasting any more time with him."

"I don't care whether you believe me or not," answered Joe, the hot
blood mantling his face as he spoke. "If you shoot over these grounds,
you will find out before night that I have told you nothing but the
truth."

"Look a-here, Joe," said Brierly, shaking his fist in the boy's face.
"It was your father and Dan who fired them guns a bit ago, wasn't it?"

"I don't know--I have no proof of it, and neither have you."

"You do know it," replied the guide. "I've got all the proof I want
that it was them, 'cause I know them guns of their'n when I hear 'em go
off. Now let me tell you what's a fact, Joe Morgan. If you say a word
to anybody about seeing me and Mr. Brown up here, I'll report Silas
and Dan for trespass and shooting out of season; and if I do, they'll
have to go to jail, and salt won't save 'em. There ain't nary one of
'em worth five cents a piece, and where be they going to get the money
to pay their fines? Answer me that. Now, will you hold your tongue, or
not?"

"No, I won't," answered Joe, without the least hesitation. "If I can
find any evidence against them, I will report them myself as quick as I
will report you if you don't get off these grounds."

"I hardly think you will," replied Mr. Brown, with something like a
sneer.

"It ain't no ways likely, for it don't stand to reason that he would be
willing to say the words that would put some of his own kin into the
lock-up," assented Brierly. "But I'll do the work for him as soon as we
go home, and what's more, I'll report him, too, for--for--"

"Neglect of duty," prompted Mr. Brown.

"Perzactly. Them's the words I was trying to think of. Then, old man
Warren, he'll say to him that he ain't got no use for such a trifling
game-warden as he is--that is, if he _is_ one, which I don't believe.
Now, Joe, will you hold your jaw?"

Joe replied very decidedly that he would not. He knew what his duty was
better than they could tell him, and Brierly might as well hold his own
jaw, and stop making threats, because he couldn't scare him into saying
anything else.

"I don't want to get into any trouble with the officers, for it is
absolutely necessary that I should start for home bright and early
to-morrow morning," said Mr. Brown, who could not help admiring Joe's
courage, although he would have been glad to see his guide thrash him
soundly for his obstinacy. "It is very provoking to have this boy show
up just in time to spoil all our fun. Let's go over to Hallet's woods,
and see if we can scare up another so-called game-warden."

"Well, you can," said Joe, who wanted to laugh when he saw the look of
surprise that settled on the guide's face. "You'll scare up two over
there, and, Brierly, one of them is a chap that you will not care to
fool with. When you find him, it will be very easy for you to ascertain
whether or not I have told you the truth; that is, if you care enough
about it to ask him a few questions."

"Who is he?" asked Brierly.

"Tom Hallet," answered Joe; and, without waiting to listen to the
expressions of anger and disgust that came from the lips of the guide,
he shouldered his rifle and hurried off.

"I wonder what they will conclude to do about it?" thought Joe, as he
threaded his way through the thick woods in the direction from which
the poachers' guns sounded. "Brierly agreed to give his employer a
good day's sport, and now that he can't keep his promise, will he hand
back the money that Mr. Brown paid him? I don't think he will."

He didn't either, and Joe afterward learned how he got out of it.



CHAPTER XVII.

WHO FIRED THE FOUR SHOTS?


It is hardly necessary to assure the reader that the young
game-warden's heart was not in the task he had set himself. He believed
that his father and Dan had come upon a bevy of Mr. Warren's imported
birds and fired both barrels of their guns into it; and, as they were
both good wing-shots, it was not probable that very many of the birds
had escaped unhurt. Joe's business was to intercept them if he could,
and to report them, regardless of consequences, if he found anything
except squirrels in their game-bags.

"But I don't expect to find the least evidence against them," said Joe,
to himself, "and there's where they are going to take advantage of
me. What is to hinder them from doing as much shooting as they please
at one end of the wood-lot, while I am skirmishing around the other
end? They know well enough that the sound of their guns will draw my
attention, and as soon as they have killed the birds they'll gather
them up and dig out before I can stop them. It seems as though every
business has its drawbacks."

And the longer Joe lived the firmer grew this opinion.

Half an hour's rapid walking took the young game-warden past his
father's wood-pile, which now stood a good chance of staying where
it was until it mingled with the mold beneath it, and down a little
declivity to the brink of the gorge in which Tom Hallet had located the
robbers' cave. Although he made constant use of his eyes and ears, he
could not see or hear anything of the poachers, and neither were there
any suspicious sounds behind him to indicate that Mr. Brown and his
guide had kept on to Mr. Hallet's woods "to scare up another so-called
game-warden."

"This is the way it is going to be all winter," said Joe, to himself.
"Anybody who feels like it can slip in here, shoot all the birds he
wants and slip out again before I can get a sight at him. There's
Brierly, now; and that's his employer, looking out from behind that big
tree on the right. They have followed me to see what I would do if I
found father and Dan shooting Mr. Warren's birds."

While Joe was walking along the brink of the gorge, wondering if it
would pay to scramble down one side of it and up the other, when he was
sure that he couldn't catch the poachers if he did, he suddenly became
aware that he was an object of interest to a couple of persons who were
so anxious to avoid discovery that they kept themselves concealed--all
except their heads, and them they concealed, too, when they saw that
Joe was looking in their direction.

But Joe was wide of the mark when he declared that they were Mr. Brown
and his guide, who were watching his movements in the hope of finding
some grounds for complaint against him.

The concealed parties were watching him, it is true, but for a
different purpose, and instead of seeing any reason for finding fault
with him, they told each other that Mr. Warren's game-warden was wide
awake, and that the fellow who shot any birds on those grounds would
have to be lively in getting away with them, or Joe would catch him
sure.

When they saw the latter looking at them, they moved out from behind
their respective trees, and stood forth in full view. They were Tom
Hallet and his friend Bob Emerson.

"Look here!" shouted Joe, who little dreamed what it was that brought
the two boys on his grounds, and so far from their own quarters. "These
woods are posted, and you can't get out of them too quick."

"You don't say so!" replied Tom. "Come up here and talk to us. You've
had visitors already, haven't you? Who fired those four shots a while
ago, and what did they shoot at?"

Joe slowly mounted to the top of the hill, and shook hands with Tom and
Bob, before he made any reply to these questions. Then he said:

"I have had visits from two parties. One of them I saw, and the other
I didn't see, and they were the fellows who did the shooting. They are
on the other side of the gulf, most likely, and when I saw you dodging
behind trees, I was trying to make up my mind whether or not I ought to
cross over and hunt them out."

"What's the use of going to all that trouble?" exclaimed Tom. "I don't
believe they got any birds; but if they did, they made all haste to
pick them up and run with them. You say you saw the other party. Who
were they? Did they have any birds?"

Joe answered the last question first.

"I took particular pains to see that their game-bags were empty," said
he. "The guide was Brierly, and he called his employer Mr. Brown. He's
no sportsman, whoever he is; he's a butcher," added Joe, who then went
on to give the particulars of the interview, and to rejoice in the fact
that Mr. Brown was several dollars out of pocket, having been confiding
enough to pay Brierly in advance for the day's sport he thought he was
going to have among the imported game that had just been "turned down"
in Mr. Warren's woods and Hallet's.

"Hallet's!" exclaimed Tom. "Did they have the impudence to go over
there after you left them."

"Mr. Brown suggested it, but I didn't see them go anywhere," was Joe's
reply. "I warned them that they would find two game-wardens there
instead of one, adding that if they wanted to know whether I had told
the truth regarding myself they had better question you."

"Let's go back and see what they are up to," suggested Bob. "I
say, Joe," he added suddenly, but not without a certain hesitation
and constraint of manner that was too plain to escape the young
game-warden's attention, "while you were walking along the gulf, you
didn't--er--you didn't see anything at all suspicious, did you?"

"I didn't see anything but trees and bushes."

"And you didn't hear anything either, I suppose?" continued Bob.

"Not a sound. Why do you ask?"

"Oh--er--the idea just occurred to me, that's all."

"Do you think that the men who fired those guns are hiding in the
gulf?" exclaimed Joe. "Perhaps I had better go down there and see."

This proposition called forth so emphatic a protest from both the boys,
that Joe did not know what to make of it. They declared with one voice
that such an idea had never occurred to them--that the poachers were
safe out of harm's way long ago, and, besides, it would be putting
himself to altogether too much trouble.

He'd find it awful hard work to make his way through the thick bushes
and briars that covered the steep sides of that gorge, and long before
he reached the bottom, he would wish he had let the job out. They knew
all about it, for they had tried it.

With this piece of advice the boys bade Joe good-by, and hastened away
in search of Brierly and his employer.

"Do you think Joe suspects anything?" asked Tom, as soon as Mr.
Warren's game-warden had been left out of hearing. "I thought he
looked at us as if he had a vague idea that we had other reasons than
those we gave for telling him to keep out of the gulf."

"That's my opinion," answered Bob; and his companion took note of the
fact that his voice trembled when he spoke. "I hold to my belief that
those guns were fired by Silas Morgan and some one he has taken into
his confidence. But of this I am certain: Silas went after that money
this morning, and shot at the man who ran us out of the gulf yesterday."

"You still think it was a man, and not a wild beast that yelled at us?"
said Tom.

"I know it as well as if I had been at his side when he did it,"
replied Bob, positively. "And, Tom, if Silas and his friend have shot
somebody-- Great Scott! If I ever take a hand in any more jokes of that
sort, I hope I shall be shot myself."

"Seems to me, that Tom and Bob don't take any too much interest in
their business," thought the young game-warden, as he started down
the mountain toward his cabin. "The gorge runs through Mr. Hallet's
wood-lot, and if those boys are going to confine their scouting to
the covers on the lower side of it, I don't see how they are going to
protect the birds. Well, it shan't stop me. As soon as I get around to
it, I am going to cut a path down one side and up the other, and after
that I shall cross over every day to take a look at things."

Joe was hungry when he reached his cabin, and then he found that there
was one thing that had been forgotten--a clock.

He had already laid out a regular routine of work--setting aside
certain things that were to be done at certain hours of the day or
evening; but how was he going to follow it without the aid of a
timepiece?

A few minutes reflection showed him a way out of his quandary. Among
the other relics of better days that were to be found in his father's
cabin was an old-fashioned bull's-eye watch which had not seen the
light of day for many a long year.

Joe wasn't sure that it would run, but it wouldn't cost him anything
more than a two-hours' walk to find out, and he decided that he would
go down and ask his mother for it as soon as he had eaten his dinner.

"I can't set my house to rights to-day anyhow," thought he, "because I
have wasted too much time in looking for father and Dan; but I'll have
it all in order to-morrow, unless some other law-breakers call me up
the mountain, and the day after that, I'll begin on my routine, and
stick to it as long as I am here."

If you had been there, reader, to take a look around Joe's cabin,
you would have told yourself that there was another and still more
important thing that had been forgotten--a cooking-stove.

But Joe didn't miss it, for never in his life had he seen a meal
prepared over a stove. He would not have known how to use one if he
had had it; but give him a bed of coals in a fire-place, or on the
mountain-side, and he could get up as good a dinner as any hungry boy
would care to have set before him.

He had everything in the way of pots, pans and kettles that he could
possibly find use for, but on this particular day he did not call many
of them into service--nothing, in fact, but the pot in which he made
his tea, and the frying-pan in which he cooked two generous slices of
bacon.

He found potatoes in one of the baskets and a huge loaf of bread in
another, and with the aid of these he made a very good dinner.

Then he shouldered his rifle (knowing the thieving propensities of the
majority of the poachers who infested the mountains, he could not think
of leaving so valuable a piece of property behind him), locked the door
and set out for home.



CHAPTER XVIII.

DAN'S SECRET.


Although the young game-warden stepped out lively enough, his heart was
as heavy as lead. He was sure that his father and Dan had come back
from the mountain with a goodly number of Mr. Warren's valuable birds,
which had fallen to their murderous double-barrels, and that they would
take pains to keep out of his sight when they saw him approaching the
cabin; consequently he was much surprised to find them sitting on the
bank of the river, widely separated from each other, and to notice that
they did not show the least desire to avoid him.

When he stepped across the threshold of his humble home, he was still
more surprised to see that his mother appeared very nervous and
anxious, and that there was an expression on her pale face that he had
never seen there before.

"What's the matter?" queried Joe. "What's happened?"

"I am sure I don't know," answered Mrs. Morgan, in a faltering voice.
"But it must be something terrible. Have you seen your father and
Daniel since they left the house this morning?"

"Not until this very minute; but I tried to find them, for I heard them
shoot, and knew they were after my birds. How many did they bring home
with them? This is not a pleasant thing for me to do, mother, but they
will get into trouble just as sure--"

"I don't think they shot any birds," Mrs. Morgan interposed. "If they
did, they have concealed them somewhere. But they must have done
something, for I never saw them act so before."

"Act how?" inquired Joe.

"Why, as if they were frightened out of their wits. When I looked out
of the window and saw them coming, they were running at the top of
their speed; and the minute they got into the house, they closed the
door and fastened it, and began trying to load their guns. But their
hands trembled so violently that they spilled the powder all over the
floor; and then they sat down and swayed back and forth in their chairs
as if they did not have strength enough to hold themselves still. There
was not a particle of color in their faces, and they acted for all the
world as if they had taken leave of their senses."

"What ailed them?" asked Joe, who was profoundly astonished.

"I don't know. I couldn't get them to say a word. Whenever I spoke to
them they stared at me as if they didn't know what I meant, then shook
their heads and went on rocking themselves in their chairs. When they
could muster up courage enough to unlock the door and go out, I heard
your father say that he had hauled his last load of wood down from the
mountain."

"Well, that beats me," said Joe, who did not know what else to say.
"But there's one comfort, mother; I shall have two pot-hunters less to
watch during the winter."

"Why, Joseph, you are not going back there?" exclaimed Mrs. Morgan, who
trembled visibly at the bare thought of the unknown perils to which he
might be exposed.

"Of course I am going back," replied Joe, quickly. "Why shouldn't I?
There's where I am going to earn the money to keep you from paddling
off through the deep snow this winter."

"Oh, Joe, let the money go and stay at home with me," said his mother,
pleadingly. "I shall be so uneasy every minute you are away. If
anything should happen to you--"

"Now what in the world is going to happen to me," asked the young
game-warden, who told himself that Silas and Dan must have behaved in
a most extraordinary manner to frighten and excite his mother in this
way. "What is there up there in the hills that's going to hurt me?"

"That I can't tell. I do wish I knew just what happened to your father
and Dan. The reality couldn't be any worse than this uncertainty and
suspense."

"I wonder if I couldn't induce Dan to give me a hint of it," said Joe,
standing his rifle up in one corner of the room. "I believe it will pay
to have a shy at him. He can't keep a secret for any length of time to
save his life; and if I work it right, I think I can worm this one out
of him."

So saying, Joe stepped to the door to take a look at the motionless
figures on the river bank. There was only one of them there now. Silas
had disappeared and Dan was left alone.

Joe thought that nothing could have suited him better. Dan might be
inclined to be reticent with his father sitting in plain sight of him;
but now there was nothing to restrain him, and he could talk as freely
as he pleased.

Walking leisurely along, as if he had no particular object in view, Joe
went down to the bank and seated himself a short distance away from
his brother, who sat with his elbows resting on his knees and both
hands supporting his head. He never moved when he heard the sound of
Joe's footsteps, and neither did he utter a sound; so Joe began the
conversation himself, and with no little anxiety, it must be confessed,
as to the result. Dan was an awkward boy to manage, and if Joe had
entered at once upon the subject that was uppermost in his mind, his
brother would have shut himself up like a clam.

"Well, old fellow," said Joe, cheerily, "why didn't you come around and
see my new home? I tell you, I've got things nice there; or, rather,
I'm going to, as soon as I have time to straighten up a bit. You were
up there, because I heard you shoot--you and father. I didn't expect to
see you back so soon."

Dan slowly raised a very pale face from his hands, and gazed at his
brother with a pair of wild-looking eyes. He did not look like himself
at all.

After staring hard at his brother for full half a minute, and running
his eyes up and down the bank to make sure that there was no one else
in sight, he said, in hollow tones:

"And I didn't look to see you back again so soon, either. I didn't
never expect to set eyes on to you no more."

"You didn't?" exclaimed Joe. "Why not?"

"Did he show himself to you, too?" asked Dan, in reply. "You don't look
like you'd seen him."

"Seen who? I met some men up there on the mountain, if that is what you
mean."

"It wan't no man, Joey," said Dan shaking his head solemnly--"it wan't
no man. It was something wusser."

"Why, Dan, I don't know what you mean," said Joe.

And then he checked himself. His brother was in a fair way to reveal
something to him, and he did not want to lose the chance of hearing it
by exhibiting too much impatience.

"How many birds did you get?"

"Didn't get none," answered Dan. "Didn't see nary one. They are as safe
from me and pap, from this time on, as though they wasn't there."

"Then what did you shoot at?"

Dan looked behind him, and allowed his eyes to roam up and down the
bank, before he replied.

"I'm 'most afraid to tell you," said he, in a scarcely audible voice.
"Joey," he added, straightening up, and giving emphasis to his words
by pounding his knee with his fist--"Joey, I wouldn't live up there in
old man Warren's shanty two days--no, nor half of one day--for all the
money there is in--"

Dan was about to say, "for all the money there is in that robbers'
cave," but he caught himself in time, and finished the sentence by
adding, "for all there is in Ameriky."

"I can't, for the life of me, make out what you are trying to get at,"
said Joe, rising from the ground and turning his face toward the cabin,
"and neither can I waste any more time with you. I came down after
father's watch, and as soon as I get it I must hurry back. I don't want
the dark to catch me--"

"I should say not!" gasped Dan, shivering all over. "Say, Joe," he
continued, reaching up and taking his brother by the hand, "don't go
up there no more. Go and tell old man Warren that he'll have to get
somebody else to be his game-warden."

Joe was more amazed than ever. Dan was in sober earnest, there could be
no doubt about that, and he could not imagine what he had seen to scare
him so badly.

"Don't go back," pleaded Dan. "The hant is in the gulf now, but as
soon as it gets dark it will come out--that's the way they all do--and
come up to your shanty; and when you see it walking around there, all
in white, like me and pap seen it, I tell you--Say, Joey, you won't go
back, will you?"

"Dan, I am surprised at you, and heartily ashamed as well," said Joe,
who was more than half inclined to be angry at his brother. "You've
heard some foolish story or other, and it's frightened you out of a
year's growth. There's no such thing as a 'hant.'"

"I tell you there is, too," Dan protested. "I seen it with my own two
eyes, and so did pap. If he was here he'd tell you the same thing,
pervided he told you anything at all. We heard it yelling at us, too,
and such yelling! Oh, laws a massy! I don't never want to listen to the
like again," cried Dan, covering his ears with both hands, and rocking
himself from side to side, as if he were in the greatest bodily
distress.

Joe now thought it time to hurry matters a little. He was really
anxious to hear his brother's story.

"I should like to know just what you and father saw and heard this
morning," said he; "but I can't waste any more precious moments with
you. You know my time is not my own any longer. It belongs to Mr.
Warren."

"Do you mean to say that you're going back?"

"Yes. I am going to start this very minute."

These words seemed to arouse Dan from his lethargy.

"Set down, Joey," said he, at the same time casting apprehensive
glances on all sides of him. "Come clost to me, so't that hant can't
tech me, and I'll tell you everything."

"Will you be quick about it?"

"Just as quick and fast as I know how, honor bright," replied Dan. "And
will you promise, sure as you live and breathe, that you won't lisp a
word of it to nobody? 'Cause why, I'm afeared that if you do, he'll
show himself to me again, and I don't want to see him no more."

"I shall make no promises whatever," answered Joe, who saw very plainly
that he could say what he pleased, since Dan would not permit him to
depart until he had eased his mind by confiding to him everything there
was in it. "If there is any dangerous thing up there in the gulf, I am
going to hunt him or it out the very first thing I do."

"Joey, don't you try that," exclaimed Dan, who really seemed to be
distressed on his brother's account. "You can't hurt a hant. Me and pap
fired four charges of No. 8 shot into him, and we never so much as made
him wink. He kept on yelling at us just the same, and now and then he
would make a lunge for'ard, as if he was coming right at us."

"Go on with your story," said Joe, whose patience was all exhausted; "I
am listening."

Thus adjured, Dan settled himself into a comfortable position, and
began his narrative.



CHAPTER XIX.

DAN TELLS HIS STORY.


Having fully determined to get rid of his tremendous secret at once
and forever, Dan went deeply into all the details, and did not omit a
single thing that had the least bearing upon his story.

He could not give a very connected account of the finding of the
letter, for that was a matter that Silas had touched upon very lightly.
The letter was found in the wood-pile, because his father said so, and
that was all that Dan knew about it.

He had read the document very carefully after it came into his
possession, and some portions of it were so firmly fixed in his memory
that he repeated them word for word.

Then the muscles around the corners of Joe's mouth began to twitch,
and when Dan told, in a frightened whisper, how the man who pushed his
"partner" into the gorge had been obliged to jump into the lake in
order to free himself from the presence of the "hant," which followed
him day and night--when Joe heard about that, he couldn't stand it any
longer. He threw himself flat upon the ground, and laughed so loudly
that he awoke the echoes far and near.

Dan, who had not looked for anything like this, was not only
overwhelmed with astonishment, but he was fighting mad in an instant.

"Whoop!" he yelled, jumping up and knocking his heels together. "Hold
me on the ground, somebody, or I'll larrup this Joe of our'n till I put
a little more sense into him nor he's got now. What you laughing at,
you big fool?"

"Sit down and behave yourself," replied Joe, who was not at all alarmed
by these hostile demonstrations. "Let me ask you a few questions, and
then we'll find out who is the biggest fool, you or I."

"No, I won't," said Dan, shortly, "'cause why I know that already."

"All right," replied Joe; "then I'll get the watch and go back to my
work."

"But you haven't heared all of my story yet," exclaimed Dan. "Wait till
I tell you, and I'll bet that you won't never go back there no more."

"There are a few things about the story that I don't quite understand,"
began Joe.

"No more do I," interrupted Dan.

"But if you will answer a question or two I have in mind, I think we
can get at the bottom of the matter."

"You needn't ask 'em, cause you'll laugh at me again."

"No, I won't," protested Joe; and he kept his promise, although he
sometimes found it hard to do so. "The first question is this: Did the
letter that father took from his wood-pile look faded and soiled, as if
it had been rained and snowed on?"

"Not a bit of it, that I could see. It was as spick and span as you
please."

"That's one point gained," said Joe. "Did the writer say anything
about cutting a hole through the ice, so that he could jump into the
lake to get away from the 'hant'?"

"Nary word."

"Did you find the rope that led down to the cave, when you went up
there this morning?"

"We didn't look for it. We went up the beach till we struck the brook
that comes out of the gulf, and we follered that till--till--"

"You found the cave?" suggested Joe.

"Till we come purty nigh to where the cave is," corrected Dan. "We
didn't see the cave, 'cause we run against something that wouldn't let
us go no furder."

"What was it?"

"The hant I was telling you about."

"What did it look like? Now go on with your story, and I won't say a
word till you get through. What did you see up there in the gulf that
frightened you so badly?"

These words drove away Dan's anger, and called up all his old fears
again; but he sat down and resumed his narrative.

It related to a few things which the reader ought to know in order to
understand what happened afterward; but Dan told it in such a rambling
way, and made so many impossible statements, which he insisted should
be received as absolute facts, that Joe found it hard to follow him,
and we will not attempt it.

His narrative, stripped of all the monstrous exaggerations that his
excitement and terror led him to put into it, ran about in this way:

When Silas and Dan shouldered their guns that morning and set out to
find the robbers' cave, and the treasure that they firmly believed was
concealed in it, they told each other that no matter what happened
they would not come back until they had accomplished their object. The
former, as we know, was not as eager to brave the terrors of the gorge
as he pretended to be, but Dan was thoroughly in earnest, and he built
so many gorgeous air-castles, and talked in such glowing language about
the fine things they could have for their own as soon as the money was
found, that finally Silas became worked up to the highest pitch of
excitement and impatience, and showed it by striding ahead at such a
rate that Dan had to exert himself to keep pace with him.

"You needn't be in such a hurry, pap," said Dan, when he found that
he was growing short of breath. "It'll keep till we get there, 'cause
there ain't nobody else that knows about it, seeing that you got the
first grab at the letter."

"I know it," was the ferryman's reply, "but I'm powerful oneasy to get
a hold of that grip-sack that's got the false bottom into it. We don't
care if they do put a bridge down there to our house and bust up the
ferrying business, do we, Dannie? And anybody that wants that old scow
for their own can have it, can't they?"

"I don't care what becomes of it, or where it goes to," said Dan,
spitefully. "It ain't a going to bring me no more backaches, I bet you."

"Course not," assented Silas. "You'll be a gentleman directly, and then
you can buy a nice boat, if you want it."

"I don't care so much for boats as I do for breech-loading bird-guns
and j'inted fish-poles," observed Dan. "Them's the things that make a
feller look nobby when summer comes. Say, pap, what be we follering
the beach for? The rope that leads to the cave is way up there in the
hills."

"Look a-here, Dannie," said Silas, stopping short, and bestowing a very
knowing wink upon the boy at his side. "We ain't nobody's fools, if we
be poor and ragged. As I told you yesterday, we don't want to slide
down that there rope, 'cause why, it'll dump us right down in front of
that hant, and he'll bounce us before we can get our guns ready. See
the p'int? If we go up the gorge, easy like, and keep our eyes open
all the time, we shall see him as soon as he sees us. Understand? But
I don't reckon he's up here. I'm a thinking that he's down the road
somewhere, watching for the feller that finds that letter."

"I hope he is," said Dan, "for then we won't have no trouble in getting
hold of the money. Looks powerful dark and lonesome in there; it does
for a fact."

They had now reached the brook, and were standing in full view of the
mouth of the gorge. It did, indeed, look dark and lonely in there; so
much so, in fact, that if Dan had shown the least sign of fear, Silas
would have faced about at once, and made the best of his way back to
the cabin, leaving the treasure to stay where it was until the mildew
and rust had eaten it up.

"Them thick bushes shuts out all the light of the sun, don't they?"
said Silas. "And it's so ridiculous crooked, that we might run right on
to the hant in going around some sharp bend, and never see him till we
was clost to him. The brook is plumb full of rocks and such, and the
cave must be as much as five miles away, I reckon--mebbe more. It'll be
hard work to go up there after that money."

"But it would be harder to get it by chopping wood for it," said Dan;
"so here goes, hant or no hant."

"You're the most amazing gritty feller I ever seen," declared Silas,
who was really astonished at the boy's hardihood. "You go on ahead,
for you ain't as old as I be, and your eyes are sharper, and I'll stick
clost to your heels."

For a wonder, Dan did not object to this arrangement.

"I know well enough that pap's afeard," said he to himself; "but that
don't scare me none. If we have to run to save ourselves from the grip
of that hant, the hindermost feller is the one who will be in the place
of danger, and that'll be pap. With two or three jumps I can put myself
so far ahead of him, that he won't never see me again till I get ready
to stop and wait for him to come up."

With these thoughts to comfort and encourage him, Dan did not hesitate
to lead the way into the gulf.

The traveling was bad enough at the start, and the farther they went
into the gorge, the worse it became.

A dozen times or more, in going the first quarter of a mile, were they
obliged to climb over or crawl under immense logs which had fallen into
the stream from the bluffs above; and when these obstructions had been
left behind, foaming cascades, some of them forty feet in height, and
which they surmounted by scaling the steep face of the cliffs, took
their places.

It was a bad location for a surprise and a retreat, in which the hant
would have every advantage of them. Beyond a doubt, he could skip from
one boulder to another, and plunge headlong over all the falls that
came in his way with perfect immunity. But how would it be with them?
Dan asked himself.

It was a wonder that he did not get disheartened, and declare that he
would not go any farther.

Silas hoped he would, for he was growing weary, and, in spite of all
he could do to prevent it, the disagreeable thought would now and then
force itself upon him, that perhaps there wasn't any money up there,
after all, and that they were destined to return as empty-handed as
they came.

Dan also had some misgivings, but he would not allow them a place in
his mind. The belief that there was a fortune of six thousand dollars
almost within his grasp, had taken full possession of him; and even if
he had not been sure of it, his pride would not permit him to say the
first discouraging word.

He was determined that it should come from his father, so that if
their expedition failed he could blame him for it. He pressed steadily
and patiently onward, without saying a word, and his father followed
silently at his heels.

They were now between four and five miles from the lake, and the cliffs
on each side were so high, and the bushes and trees that covered them
from base to summit were so thick, that twilight always reigned at the
bottom of the gorge, let the sun shine never so brightly.

On a cloudy day it must have been as dark as a pocket down there. Silas
couldn't think of anything that would have induced him to stay alone in
that gloomy place for five minutes.

"Say, pap," whispered Dan, so suddenly, that his father started and
almost dropped his gun, "how long before we'll be abreast of that
wood-pile of our'n?"

Silas raised his head long enough to look about him and take a glance
at the cliffs above, and then the blood all fled from his face, leaving
it as pale as death itself.

"Laws a massy, Danny," he managed to articulate, "we're abreast of it
now."

There was something so unnatural in the tones of his father's voice,
and in the face he turned on him, that Dan felt the cold chills
creeping over him, and it was all he could do to refrain from crying
out with terror.



CHAPTER XX.

A RUN FOR HOME.


"Yes, sir," repeated Silas, after he had taken another brief look at
his surroundings, to make sure that there was no mistake about it;
"we're abreast of our wood-pile at this blessed minute, 'cause why--you
see that leaning hickory up there on the top of the bluff? Well, I shot
a squirrel off'n there about three weeks ago, and that there tree is
only a quarter of a mile from the wood-pile. I wish you wouldn't look
so scared-like, Dannie. The best part of this mean job is over now, and
we ain't seen nothing to be afeard of yet. Look around, and see if you
can find anything of that rope. If you can, there's the cave. Go ahead,
Dannie, and when you feel yourself getting trembly all over, just say,
'breech-loading bird-guns and j'inted fish-poles,' and that'll put
pluck into you."

Silas rattled on in this way simply to gain time, and Dan knew it; but
before he could make any reply, the performance of the previous day,
which had proved so trying to Tom Hallet's nerves and Bob Emerson's,
was repeated for their benefit, followed by a new and startling
variation. First, a dismal howl arose on the air, and the echoes took
it up and threw it from one cliff to the other, until it seemed to the
terrified Dan that every tree and hush within the range of his vision
concealed some awful thing that was howling at him with all its might.

Gradually the sound grew into a scream; and at the same moment there
arose above the bushes, not more than thirty yards in advance of
him, a grotesque figure, clad all in white. Its head was concealed
by something that looked like a night-cap; but its face was visible,
and it was as white as chalk--all except the places where its eyes,
nose and mouth were, or ought to have been, and they were as black as
ink. It held its arms stiffly by its sides, and when the scream was
at its loudest, it made a sudden dart forward as if it were on the
point of jumping over the bushes, to take vengeance upon the daring
fortune-hunters.

"Oh, my soul!" groaned Silas; and his legs refusing to support him any
longer, he sat down among the rocks and covered his eyes with his hand.

But Dan was made of sterner stuff. For a moment or two he stared at the
figure with eyes that seemed ready to start from their sockets, and
then his gun came quickly to his shoulder, and two loads of shot went
straight for the ghost's head.

This aroused his father, who was not a second behind him; but the
four charges had no more effect upon the spectre than so many blank
cartridges.

When the smoke cleared away, there he stood, and his actions seemed to
indicate that he was about to assume the offensive. He began growing
before their eyes; and when he had risen in the air until his height
overtopped that of the tallest man they had ever seen, Dan, who did
not care to wait until he had lengthened himself all out, uttered a
yell that was almost as loud and unearthly as those that came from the
direction of the cave, and turned and took to his heels.

He quickly gave his father the place of danger--the rear--and when
Silas, lumbering along behind, and stumbling over rocks and barking his
shins at almost every step, reached the first bend in the stream, Dan
was nowhere in sight.

Knowing that it would be of no earthly use to call to him to come back,
Silas took one quick glance behind him to make sure that the spectre
was not coming in pursuit, and then darted into the bushes which
fringed the base of the cliff, and climbed slowly and laboriously to
the top.

He was a long time in reaching it, for his terror seemed to have robbed
him of all his strength and agility, while it had just the opposite
effect upon Dan, whom he found at last; sitting on a log near the
wood-pile.

"Well, we know now for certain that the money's there, don't we?" said
Silas, as soon as he could speak.

"Yes; and we know that the hant's there too," replied Dan. "If I'd
known that he was such a looking feller as that, you can bet your
bottom dollar that I wouldn't have gone nigh him. He didn't have them
white clothes on yesterday. You needn't set down, thinking that I'm
going to wait for you, 'cause I'm going straight home."

Tired and weak as he was, Silas was obliged to go, too, for he hadn't
the courage to stay there alone until he was rested. He wasn't very
steady on his legs, and by no means as sure-footed as he usually
was; but he managed to keep along with Dan, who, as fast as his wind
came back to him, increased his pace, first to a slow trot, then to
a fast trot, and finally to a dead run, every fresh burst of speed
calling forth a corresponding exertion on the part of his father, who,
struggling gamely to keep up, was so nearly exhausted by the violence
of his efforts that he was often on the point of falling in his tracks.

[Illustration: A RUN FOR HOME]

This was the way they were moving when Mrs. Morgan discovered them
approaching the house. She was greatly astonished when she saw the
nervous haste with which they closed and locked the door, and witnessed
their frantic but unsuccessful attempts to recharge their guns, and she
was frightened when she caught a glimpse of their faces; but with all
her questioning, she could not get a word out of them.

They stared stupidly at her, as they rocked about in their chairs, but
did not seem to possess the power of speech.

"Our tongues were stiffer'n a couple of boards, and we couldn't nary
one of us open our heads," was the way in which Dan wound up his story.
"At first I thought the hant had put some kind of a spell or 'nother on
to us; but it went away after a while, and now we can both talk as well
as we ever could. I reckon you won't go back, will you, Joey?"

To Dan's utter amazement, the young game-warden replied with the
greatest promptness:

"Of course I shall go back. What would Mr. Warren think of me if I
should throw up my situation before I had fairly entered upon its
duties? I haven't seen anything to get frightened at."

"But I have," exclaimed Dan.

"I don't doubt it in the least," answered Joe, who had a theory of his
own regarding the strange things that had happened in the gorge. "If
I don't bother the 'hant' I don't see why he should take the trouble
to climb out of his cave to bother me. I don't want the treasure he is
guarding. I never expect to get a dollar that I don't work for; and,
Dan, if you and father would make up your minds to the same thing, and
quit your foolish wishing and go to work in dead earnest, you would be
better off six months from now. I wouldn't go near those woods again if
I were in your place."

"You're right I won't," said Dan, earnestly. "I want my new gun and
fish-pole awful bad, and I do despise to have to give 'em up; but I'll
wait till that there hant dies or goes away, before I try that gulf
again, I bet you. Be you going back to your shanty now?"

Joe said he was.

"Well, mebbe it's best so," continued Dan, reflectively. "You have got
to earn all the money that comes into the family this winter, ain't
you?"

"I suppose I shall earn all I get," said Joe, who saw very plainly what
his brother was driving at, "and I know that you and father will earn
every red cent you get."

"It sorter bothers me to see how we are going to do it," replied Dan.
"Don't it you?"

"Not at all. Earn it as you did last winter--cut wood."

"Why, that would take us up there clost to the gulf," cried Dan,
looking up in amazement. "And didn't I just tell you that I wasn't
going there no more?"

"Now, Dan, that's only an excuse on your part. You know very well that
Mr. Warren and Mr. Hallet are not the only ones who will want cord-wood
this winter. I don't blame you for keeping away from the gorge; but you
can find plenty to do elsewhere, if you are not too lazy to look for
it. Well, good-by."

"What a teetotally mean, stingy feller, that Joe of our'n is!"
soliloquized Dan, gazing after his brother, who was walking toward the
cabin with a light and springy step. "He ain't a going to go halvers
with me and pap, is he? I wish in my soul that the hant would run him
outen the mounting this very night."

The young game-warden carried a very bright and smiling face into his
mother's presence, and Mrs. Morgan felt immensely relieved the moment
she looked at it. Instead of locking the door, as Dan and his father
always did whenever they wished to hold a secret interview with each
other, Joe sat down on the threshold so that he could talk to his
mother and keep watch of Dan at the same time.

The latter was inclined to be "snooping," and it would be just like
him, Joe thought, to slip up and crouch under the open window, so that
he could hear every word he uttered. Dan had an idea of doing that very
thing; but he straightway abandoned it when he looked up and saw his
brother sitting at ease in the open door.

"Now, mother," said the latter, cheerfully, "throw your fears to the
winds. I've got at the bottom of the whole matter, and know there's
nothing to be afraid of."

Then he went on to repeat the story to which he had just listened, but
he did not take up so much time with the narration as Dan did, because
he used fewer words.

"Dan was so badly frightened that he didn't know whether he stood on
his head or his heels," said Joe, in conclusion. "But it is an ill wind
that blows nobody good, and this is the best thing that could have
happened for me. I told you this morning that if father and Dan didn't
behave and let my birds alone, I would find means to make them, but I
guess the ghost has taken that most unpleasant job off my hands, and I
should really like to thank him for it."

"Then you think there is some one hidden in the gulf?" said Mrs. Morgan.

"I am sure of it; and the reason that father and Dan did not do any
damage with their four charges of bird-shot was, because they sent
them into a dummy. If they had held a little lower, and fired into the
bushes, there might have been another story to tell."

"Have you any idea who the man is?"

"Not the slightest; but--but--well I don't care who he is, or why he is
hiding there, if he will only make it his business to drive away every
market-shooter who goes into those woods."

It had been right on the point of Joe's tongue to say that he would
know all about the mysterious party who was hiding in the gorges before
he came home again; but he didn't say it.

His mother was smiling now, and he did not want to bring the old
expression of fear and anxiety back to her face. He was none the less
determined, however, to sift the matter to the bottom.

"I will see Tom and Bob to-morrow," he went on. "By the way, you didn't
know that they are Mr. Hallet's game-wardens, did you? Neither did I,
until this morning. I couldn't have better fellows for company, could
I? You see, mother, the place where all these things happened is on the
dividing line that runs between Mr. Warren's woods and Mr. Hallet's,
and as the ghost will help Tom and Bob quite as much as he will me, I
want to know what they think about letting him stay there."

There was another reason why Joe was anxious to have an interview with
Mr. Hallet's game-wardens, but he did not think it best to say anything
to his mother about it.



CHAPTER XXI.

A TREACHEROUS GUIDE.


Having told his story, and set all his mother's fears at rest, Joe
thought it time to speak of his own affairs, and asked for his father's
watch; whereupon, that ancient relic and heirloom was duly fished
out of a dark corner in one of the bureau drawers, set in motion,
and handed over to him, after being regulated by the not altogether
reliable clock that ticked loudly on the mantel.

The young game-warden went away from home with a very light heart
beating under his patched jacket. By some fortunate combination of
circumstances, which he did not pretend to understand, he had been
relieved of a heavy responsibility. The two market-shooters of whom he
stood the most in fear had been most effectually disposed of, for a
while at least. It would be a long time, Joe told himself, before his
father and Dan could muster up courage enough to come into the woods
of which he had charge. If Silas was afraid to draw the wood which was
to keep him warm during the winter, it was not at all probable that he
would be reckless enough to hunt through Mr. Warren's covers.

When Joe reached his cabin, there was barely enough daylight left
to aid him in his search for the lamp which he knew was stowed away
somewhere among the things that were scattered over the floor. While
he was groping about in the gloom, he wondered how much money it would
take to induce Dan or his father to come up there and stay alone in
that cabin all night. It would not have been at all strange, in view of
the harrowing story to which he had listened a few hours before, if his
own nerves had been a trifle "trembly;" but they were not. The sighing
of the evening breeze through the thick branches of the evergreens
that surrounded the cabin on three sides, and the mournful song of a
distant whip-poor-will, were sounds that some people do not like to
hear, because they make one feel lonely; but they were company for Joe,
and he delighted in listening to them.

He found the lamp after a protracted search, filled it outside the door
just as the last ray of daylight gave way to the increasing darkness,
and when he touched a match to the wick and put on the chimney, his
surroundings began to assume a more cheerful aspect.

It was the work of but a few moments to start a blaze in the fireplace,
and while he was waiting for it to gather headway, so that he could
pile on the hard wood which was to furnish the coals for the broiling
of his bacon, he busied himself in setting things to rights.

He didn't bother with the carpet--that would have to wait until
to-morrow; but he put up his cot, laid the mattress upon it, and was
about to spread the bed-clothes over that, when he heard the snapping
of twigs and heavy, lumbering footfalls outside the door, and looked
up to see a white, scared face pressed close against one of the
window-panes.

Joe was startled, and during the instant of time that he stood
motionless by his cot, he felt the hot blood rushing to his heart, and
knew that his own face must be as white as the one at the window.

His first emotion was one of fear, but it speedily gave place to anger
and excitement. He wondered if the man who was hiding in the gorge
labored under the delusion that he could drive him away with the same
ease that he had driven off Dan and Silas.

"This thing might as well be settled now as a week from now," thought
Joe. "I am here on legitimate business, and I'll ride rough-shod over
anybody who attempts to interfere with me."

With one bound, Joe sprang clear across the cabin, and when he turned
about he held his cocked rifle in his hands. He was ready to shoot, too.

But the man at the window had seen the movement, and lost no time in
drawing his head out of sight.

"Hold on there!" said a frightened voice.

Instead of "holding on," Joe jumped for the door, jerked it open,
and in an instant more the muzzle of his heavy weapon was covering a
crouching figure under the window.

"Speak quick," said he. "Who are you?"

"Mr. Brown! Mr. Brown!" came the answer, in tones that Joe recognized
at once. "What are you pointing that gun at me for? I'm lost, and want
help to find my way out of the woods."

"Then why didn't you come to the door and say so like a man, instead of
trying to scare me by looking in at the window? You ought to know that
you put yourself in danger by doing that."

"I didn't mean to frighten you," replied Mr. Brown.

And Joe could easily believe it. His visitor had risen to an upright
position by this time, and Joe saw at a glance that he was too badly
frightened himself to think of playing tricks upon others.

"Why did you not answer my calls for help?" demanded Mr. Brown, who,
now that he was safe, seemed to grow indignant when he remembered how
near he had come to spending the night alone on the mountain, with no
cheering camp-fire to illumine the darkness.

"Because I didn't hear any calls for help," answered Joe, shortly.

"Well, I did call, and called again, until I was too hoarse to speak
above a whisper," said Mr. Brown, walking into the cabin, and placing a
camp-chair in front of the fire.

Just then the pointers came into view and went in also, stretching
themselves out on the hearth with long-drawn sighs of relief, and the
three took up about all the spare room there was in the game-warden's
little domicile.

"I don't know who has the most impudence, the man or his dogs," thought
Joe, as he closed and fastened the door. "They have come here to run
things, judging by the way they shut me off from the fire."

"This is glorious," continued Mr. Brown, depositing his double-barrel
in the chimney-corner, and spreading his benumbed hands out in front of
the genial blaze. "The air begins to get cold up here on the mountain
just as soon as the sun sinks out of sight, and I am chilled through.
Now, how am I to get to the Beach? That's the question."

"You will have to answer it for yourself, for I can't," Joe replied.
"You had a guide the last time I saw you."

These innocent words seemed to irritate the man to whom they were
addressed, for he turned upon Joe almost fiercely.

"Yes, I did have one," said he. "But where is he now?"

"I don't know," answered Joe.

And he might have added that he did not care.

"You heard me remind him that I had given him a handsome sum of money
to put me in the way of a good day's shooting, did you not? I knew him
to be perfectly familiar with these woods, and I supposed he could do
it. Of course, I was aware that I couldn't take home a bag of grouse;
but I knew there was no law protecting the English birds that have just
been turned down in these covers, and I looked for jolly good sport,
and for twenty-five or thirty brace of birds to distribute among my
friends."

"Don't you think it was kind of Mr. Warren to pay six dollars a pair
for those birds, just to give you the fun of shooting them?" asked Joe.
"You ought to thank him for it."

Mr. Brown stared hard at the bold speaker, shrugged his shoulders, and
turned around on his camp-chair to bring the heat of the fire to bear
upon the back of his shooting-jacket.

"Well," said he, slowly, "if any man is foolish enough to squander his
money in that way, I don't know that it is any business of mine, or
yours, either; and neither do I consider it my duty to refrain from
shooting birds that are not protected by law, as often as my dogs flush
them. Now, let me go on with my story."

"But first suppose that you send the dogs under the table, and move
back out of my way, so that I can cook supper," suggested Joe.

But Mr. Brown and his four-footed companions were very comfortable
there in front of the fire, and not until Joe, losing all patience,
jerked the door wide open and caught up a broom, could any of them
muster up energy sufficient to move out of his way.

Then the pointers, which were really well trained and obedient, were
easily induced to get under the table, while Mr. Brown retreated into
the chimney-corner.

"Now I am ready to listen," said Joe, after he had piled an armful of
hard wood upon the fire. "Where is your guide, and why didn't he show
you the way to the Beach?"

"He is at home, I suppose," said Mr. Brown, growing spiteful again.
"When I learned that these birds were protected, and that Brierly,
instead of giving me a day's shooting had rendered both himself and
me liable to trespass, I told him that he had better hand back the
twenty-five dollars I had given him--"

"Twenty-five dollars for a single day's shooting!" exclaimed Joe.

"That is what I paid him," said Mr. Brown. "But do you imagine that he
gave it back, even when he knew that he could not fulfil his promise?
No, sir! He got out of it by leading me away off into the woods and
losing me there. I had a fearful time working my way out, and it was
only by the merest accident that I blundered within sight of the light
that streamed from your window."

"Good for Brierly!" was Joe's mental comment. "I wish he would serve
every law-breaking pot-hunter who takes him for a guide in the same
way." Then, aloud, he asked, "Did it frighten you to think that you had
a fair prospect of lying out all night?"

"It was by no means a pleasant reflection, but that wasn't what
frightened me. I ran across a couple of men up there," said Mr. Brown,
giving his head a backward jerk. "Their stealthy actions seemed to
indicate that they were abroad for no good purpose, and I was not sorry
to see the last of them."

"Did they say anything to you?" asked Joe.

"Not a word. They made all haste to lose themselves among the thickets,
and so did I. It was the prospect of passing the night alone on the
mountain while there were prowlers around that tested my nerves, and I
was glad indeed to come within sight of your light."

This piece of news was not at all quieting to the feelings of the young
game-warden. It aroused in his mind the suspicion that there was more
than one man hiding in the gorge, and that they made a business of
roaming around after dark to see what they could find that was worth
picking up.

If this suspicion was correct, Mr. Warren's woods might prove a very
unpleasant place for him to live for eight long months, Joe told
himself. He could not remain on guard duty at the cabin all the time,
for the work he came there to do would take him to the remotest nooks
and corners of the wood-lot; and how easy it would be for those men to
slip up during his absence and carry away everything he possessed!

"If they are outlaws, and I really believe they are," thought Joe, as
he poked up the fire, which had by this time almost burned itself down
to a glowing bed of coals, "they ought to be hunted out of that gorge
without loss of time. I will find Tom and Bob the first thing in the
morning, and ask them what they think of it."



CHAPTER XXII.

MR. BROWN TAKES HIS DEPARTURE.


"How far is it to the beach?" inquired Mr. Brown, who had got pretty
well thawed out by this time.

"Eight long miles," replied Joe, "and the most of the way lies through
the thickest woods that are to be found among these hills. I can't
direct you so that you could keep a straight course, and indeed I don't
think I could keep it myself on a dark night like this. You had better
give up the idea of going there to-night, and stay here until morning."

"You seem to have but one bed," said Mr. Brown, doubtfully.

"Well, you may take that, and I'll look out for myself."

Most men would have expressed their regrets that circumstances
compelled them to trespass upon the young game-warden's hospitality;
but Mr. Brown wasn't that sort. He had a cheerful fire to sit by,
a clean, if not luxurious bed to sleep in, a substantial meal in
prospect, and what more could a belated hunter ask for? If his presence
put Joe to any inconvenience, why, that was no concern of his.

The supper that Joe served up to his uninvited guest was plain but well
cooked, and no sooner had it been disposed of than Mr. Brown threw
himself upon the cot, boots and all, and speedily went off into the
land of dreams.

Joe spent the evening in looking over the books and papers with which
Mr. Warren had provided him, and when his watch told him that it was
ten o'clock, he lay down before the fire, with his coat for a pillow,
and went to sleep.

The first gray streaks of dawn that came in through the uncurtained
window awoke him, but his guest still slumbered heavily, and Joe did
not disturb him until he had made the coffee and slapjacks, and fried
the bacon and eggs.

Mr. Brown did not take the trouble to respond to the boy's hearty
good-morning, but seated himself at the table, after performing a hasty
toilet, and attacked the savory viands without ceremony.

When he had eaten rather more than his share of them, his tongue became
loosened, and he asked if it were possible for him to reach the Beach
in time to take the stage for Bellville.

Joe said it was, provided he did not waste too much time in making a
start, and then he began railing at Brierly for the mean trick he had
served him.

"I wish I could prosecute him and compel him to give up my money," said
he, "but I don't see that I can make out a case against him. More than
that, I can't wait to go through a law-suit, and neither do I want to
give Mr. Warren a chance at me. He might take a notion to have a hand
in the business."

"Very likely he would," said Joe, dryly. "You knew well enough that
these grounds are posted, and you ought to have cleared out when you
saw the first notice."

"You will guide me to the Beach, of course?" said Mr. Brown, who did
not appear anxious to discuss this point.

"I will put you on the road, but I can't promise to go all the way with
you," was Joe's reply. "I am paid to stay here."

Mr. Brown was not quite satisfied with this arrangement--he was very
much afraid that he might get lost again--but he was obliged to put up
with it.

An hour later, Joe stood by his father's wood-pile, taking a last look
at his departing guest, who was hurrying down the dim wagon-road toward
the valley below. All he had received in return for his services was a
slight farewell bow.

"I have seen a good many sportsmen first and last," thought the young
game-warden, as he shouldered his rifle and retraced his steps down the
mountain, "but Mr. Brown beats me. If he ever spends another night in
my house, he will take off his boots before he goes to bed, and pay me
in advance for his meals and lodging."

Remembering the prowlers of whom Mr. Brown had Spoken, Joe went
straight back to his cabin, took a good look around to make sure that
everything there was just as he had left it, and then started off in
search of Tom and Bob.

He found them setting their house in order. A note of warning from
Tom's little beagle brought them both to the door, where they remained
until Joe came up.

They were somewhat surprised at his actions. Instead of replying to
their greetings, he leaned on the muzzle of his rifle and looked
quizzically at them.

"Halloa! What has come over you all of a sudden?" exclaimed Bob.

Still Joe did not speak. He shut his left eye, and looked at Bob
through the half-closed lids of the other.

"What do you mean by that pantomime?" chimed in Tom.

By way of reply, Joe shut his right eye and looked at Tom with the
left; whereupon all the boys broke out into a hearty laugh.

"Say," said Joe at length, "I wish you would tell me just how much you
know about the ghost that has taken up his abode down there in the
gorge."

"What ghost?" asked Bob, staring hard at his friend Tom, and trying to
look surprised.

"Down where in what gorge?" inquired Tom, returning Bob's stare with
interest.

"Of course you don't know anything about it," said Joe, with a look
which said that they knew _all_ about it; "but if you are as ignorant
as you pretend to be, why were you so anxious to keep me out of the
gorge yesterday?"

"Why--er--you see, we didn't want you to walk yourself to death for
nothing," said Tom, wondering if Joe had anything better than mere
suspicion to back him. "We knew there were a couple of fellows down
there, for we heard them shoot, and we advised you to keep out of the
gorge because we were satisfied that you couldn't catch them, and that
it would be a waste of breath and strength for you to make the attempt."

"Was that the only reason you had for giving me that advice?" asked
Joe, with a smile. "You might as well confess that there was something
down there you did not want me to see. There were two fellows in the
gorge yesterday, but they were not hunting birds. They were after the
twelve thousand dollars in bills and three hundred dollars in gold that
you said were hidden there."

"We never said so!" exclaimed both the boys, in a breath.

"But the letter you wrote said so," insisted Joe. "And what do you
think those trespassers did while they were there?" he continued, with
great impressiveness. "They sent four charges of shot into the head of
that ghost, which wasn't a ghost at all, if you only knew it."

"Great Moses!" ejaculated Bob, who was really surprised now, as well as
alarmed.

The way in which Joe spoke was calculated to excite the gravest
suspicions in his mind and Tom's.

"Did--did they hit him?" Tom managed to ask.

"I should say they did!" answered Joe, solemnly. "They could not miss
him very well, seeing that he was only thirty yards away from the
muzzles of their guns."

"Was--was it a man?" Tom ventured to ask.

"Animals don't generally have 'hants,' do they?" asked Joe, in reply.
"There was a man there, and he howled and screamed--"

"Oh, great Scott!" groaned Tom, while Bob rubbed his hands together,
and gazed down the mountain, as if he were meditating instant flight.

"And he kept it up after he received those four charges of shot in his
head, and--"

These words had a magical effect upon Tom and Bob, who were really
afraid that their practical joke had resulted in a terrible tragedy.

They looked at Joe so steadily that the latter could control himself
no longer. He sat down on a convenient log, threw back his head, and
laughed till the tears rolled down his cheeks.

"You shot closer to the mark than you thought for when you made
that letter say there was something in the gorge," said Joe, at
last. "There's a man down there--two of them, according to my way of
thinking."

"Well," said Bob, who was immensely relieved by this sudden and
unexpected turn of affairs, "we knew it. We went into the gorge day
before yesterday, to catch a trout for dinner, and when we came home
we followed the stream, thinking it would be easier than to climb up
the bluff. That was the way we found it out. When we came to the place
where we had located our robbers' cave our ears were saluted by such
sounds as we never listened to before, but we didn't see anything."

"What sort of an object was it that Dan shot at?" asked Tom, who was
glad to see that Joe was not inclined to be angry over the trick that
had been played upon his father and brother. "Was it a dummy?"

"If it had been anything else I might have had a different story to
tell you," was Joe's reply. "There are at least two outlaws in hiding
there, and they have taken that way to make inquisitive hunters keep at
a distance."

"What makes you think there are two of them?"

"Because Mr. Brown ran against two prowlers in the woods last night."

"Who is Mr. Brown?"

Joe replied that he was one of the men he had been obliged to order out
of Mr. Warren's woods on the previous day, and then he went on to tell
of the visit he had had from him the night before, and how frightened
he was when he saw the man's face at the window.

When he described how Brierly had managed to evade his employer's
demand for the return of the twenty-five dollars that had been paid
him, Tom and Bob laughed heartily, and declared that Brierly had served
him just right.

Joe did not neglect to tell how Mr. Brown had abused his hospitality,
and his account of it aroused the ire of the two listeners, who
declared that if that man ever got lost in their woods, he need not
trouble himself to hunt up their cabin, for they would not take him in.

"What kind of a looking thing was that dummy?" inquired Bob, coming
back to the matter in which he was interested more than he was in Mr.
Brown and his fortunes.

Joe was obliged to confess that he could not answer that question,
because Dan's description of the thing that he and his father shot
at, surpassed all belief. Whether it was the appearance of the ghost
itself, or the fact that the four loads of shot that had been fired at
it had had no perceptible effect upon it, or the terrifying shrieks
that awoke the echoes of the gorge--whether it was one or all of these
that had frightened Silas into saying that he would not haul any more
wood down from the mountain, Joe could not tell; but he thought those
men ought to be made to give an account of themselves. If they had not
violated the law in some way, why did they take so much pains to keep
out of sight?

"We were at first inclined to believe that some of the mischief-loving
guests at the Beach had a hand in it," observed Tom. "When a lot of
city people turn themselves loose in the country, they will go for
anything that has fun in it, no matter what it is."

"You mean that that was _your_ explanation of it," corrected Bob. "I
thought when the thing happened, that it was an outlaw who yelled at us
until we were glad to get out of hearing of him, and I think so now."

"So do I," said Joe. "And I shall hold fast to that opinion until we go
down there and get at the bottom of the mystery. I am ready to start at
once. What do you say?"



CHAPTER XXIII.

EXPLORING THE CAVE.


Ever since the mysterious inhabitant of the gorge had driven them
from his presence by his unearthly howling, there had been a tacit
understanding between Tom and Bob that some day, after they had time
to get a good ready, they would return and drive him out of his
hiding-place; or, if they failed in that, find out who he was, and what
brought him there.

It was the hope of being able to carry out one or the other of these
ideas that had prompted them, on the previous day, to seize their guns
and run for the gorge when they heard those four shots fired there.

When they found Joe, and learned that he was more than half inclined
to go in search of the poachers, who, he thought, were pursuing their
nefarious work on the other side of the gulf, they endeavored to
dissuade him, because they were afraid he might encounter something he
would not care to see. But it turned out that Joe knew more about the
matter than they did, and furthermore that he wouldn't rest easy until
he knew _all_ about it.

Tom was the first to speak.

"I wonder if a stranger thing than this ever happened?" said he. "We
wrote a letter and put it into your father's wood-pile, just for the
fun of the thing--"

"And by that means unearthed a brace of thieves, or something worse,"
said Joe. "You needn't look at me in that way. I don't bear you the
least ill-will for what you did. On the contrary I thank you for it,
and if I were sure that those parties in the gorge would let us alone
this winter, I should be strongly in favor of letting them alone, too;
for, as long as they stay there, we are safe from two of the worst
game-law breakers in the country."

"But the mystery of that gulf is known to but few," said Tom.

"It will be known to more by this time next week," answered Joe. "Dan
will tell it to every man and boy he meets, and in that way it will
become noised abroad. But here's the difficulty: they won't let us
alone. I have not the slightest doubt that they frightened Mr. Brown
last night. If you could have seen the face he put against my window,
you wouldn't doubt it either; and that seems to prove that, although
they keep closely hidden during the day, they go out on foraging
expeditions as soon as darkness comes to conceal their movements. If
that is the case, what is there to hinder them from robbing our cabins
at any time? You have the advantage of me, for one of you can stay here
on guard while the other is attending to business; but when you see Joe
Morgan, you see all there is of my party, and I can't be in two places
at the same time. That's why I am so anxious to have those fellows out
of there."

"I understood you to say that you got your information from Dan,"
observed Bob. "What did he say? Did he tell you everything that
happened in the gulf?"

"Yes, and more, too," said Joe, with a laugh. "I went home yesterday
after a time-piece, and Dan concluded to take me into his confidence."

"Well, tell us the story, just as he told it to you, so that we may
know."

"Oh, I couldn't begin to do that, and besides, you wouldn't believe me
if I did!" exclaimed Joe.

"Then tell it in your own way, so that we may know just what we shall
have to face, if we decide to go down there," said Tom. "Wait until I
get something for us to sit down on, and then we'll take it easy."

Tom went into the cabin, reappearing almost immediately with three
camp-chairs in his hands. When each boy had appropriated one, Joe began
his story, making no effort to follow Dan's narration, but telling it
in such a way that his auditors saw through it as plainly as he did
himself. Indeed, the whole thing was so very transparent that Tom and
Bob marveled at Dan's stupidity.

"It seems to me that a child ought to have seen through it without half
trying," said Joe, in conclusion. "But simple as the trick was, it is
going to end in something besides fun; mind that, both of you."

"Then they wouldn't use the rope, because they were afraid that they
would dump themselves down in front of the 'hant' before they could get
a chance to shoot him," said Bob. "Well, they saved time by not looking
for it, because it wasn't there. I never thought of the rope after I
spoke about it in the letter. Well, Tom, what do you say? I am ready to
face the spectre of the cave if you are."

"Talk enough," was Tom's reply.

And to show that he was in earnest about it, he picked up his
camp-chair and went into the cabin.

When he came out again, he carried his double-barrel in his hands and
his cartridge belt was buckled about his waist.

No one could have accused these three boys of cowardice if they had
decided that they would not go near the gorge at all. It was plain
that the men who were in hiding there--they were satisfied now that
there were at least two of them--were fugitives from justice, and such
characters ought to be left to the care of the officers of the law.

It is true that their presence in the gorge was a continual menace to
the peace and comfort of the young game-wardens. They seemed to say, by
their actions, "We are here to stay, and you can't get us out."

The boys took the events of the last two days as a challenge to them
to come on and see what they could make by it, and the promptness with
which Joe Morgan proposed the expedition, and the nervous eagerness
exhibited by Tom and Bob in preparing to take part in it, indicated
that they meant to do something before they came back.

"There's one thing about it," said Bob, after he had armed himself, and
closed and locked the door, "we are not to be turned from our purpose
by a dozen dummy ghosts, and neither will those horrid yells have the
same effect upon us that they did the first time we heard them. If Dan
had fired into the bushes, instead of aiming at the 'hant's' head--"

"I hope you don't intend to do that!" cried Joe, in alarm. "If you do,
you will get into trouble as sure as the world. Beyond a doubt, there
was a man behind the bushes."

"Of course there was," assented Bob. "But you need not worry about me.
I shall not allow my excitement to lead me into anything reckless."

Tom Hallet, who was leading the way, took a short cut through the
woods, and his route did not take him and his companions within a mile
of Joe Morgan's cabin.

If they had gone there, instead of holding a straight course for the
gorge, they might have been in time to see something surprising. They
did not know that the enemy was operating in the rear while they were
marching upon his stronghold, but they found it out afterward.

They moved along as silently as so many Indians, and when they reached
the gorge, spread themselves out along the brink, looking for a place
that gave promise of an easy descent to the bottom.

Before they had made many steps, Joe uttered an exclamation of
astonishment, and with a motion of his hand, called his companions to
his side.

"This is the spot we are looking for," said he, in a suppressed
whisper. "Push the bushes aside and you will see it."

Tom did so, and, sure enough, there was a clearly-defined path, which
seemed to run straight down to the brook below.

It looked more like an archway than anything else to which we can
compare it, for the tops of the bushes were entwined above it, and they
were so dense and matted that they shut out every ray of the sun.

"Now what's to be done?" whispered Bob. "No doubt the path leads
straight down to their hiding-place, and I am free to confess that I
don't want to come upon them before I know it."

Joe's reply was characteristic of the boy. He did not say a word, but
worked his way through the bushes, and moved down the path with slow
and cautious footsteps.

"That looks like business," whispered Bob, who lost not a moment in
following his daring leader, Tom and Bugle being equally prompt to
bring up the rear.

In this order they moved at a snail's pace toward the bottom of the
gorge, stopping every few feet to listen, and all the while holding
themselves in readiness to fight or run, as circumstances might seem
to require, and to their great surprise they came to the foot of the
path without encountering the least opposition, or hearing any alarming
sound.

The deep silence that brooded over the gorge aroused their suspicions
at once. What if the enemy had heard their approach, in spite of all
the pains they had taken to keep them in ignorance of it, and prepared
an ambush for them?

Joe thought of that, and the instant he found himself in the gorge, he
moved promptly to one side, so that his companions could form in line
of battle on his left--a manoeuvre which they executed at double quick
time.

"Great Scott! There's our cave," whispered Tom, who was so nearly
overcome with amazement that he could scarcely speak plainly.

"And there's the ghost," chimed in Joe, pointing to a scarecrow in
white raiment that lay prone on the rocks under a dense thicket. "Just
take a look at its head! Those four loads of shot tore it almost to
pieces."

But Tom and Bob did not stop to look at the ghost, for they were
too busy taking notes of their surroundings while awaiting an onset
from the owners of the camp. For it was a camp in which they found
themselves, and everything in and about it seemed to indicate that it
had been occupied for some length of time--two or three weeks at least.

Tom's cave proved, upon closer inspection, to be something else--a
rude but very comfortable shelter, in the building of which nature's
handiwork had been improved upon by the ingenuity of man. The slanting
roof, which for ten feet or more from the entrance was quite high
enough to permit a tall man to stand upright, was the bottom of a
huge rock, firmly embedded in the face of the overhanging bluff. The
walls of the cabin, or whatever you choose to call it, were made of
evergreens, which had been piled against the rock, top downward, to
shed the rain; and that one little thing showed to the experienced
eyes of the boys that the men who lived there were old campers.

In front of the wide, open entrance were the smouldering remains of a
camp-fire, over which a hasty breakfast had been cooked and eaten.

The boys were sure that the meal had been a hurried one, because the
dishes were left unwashed; and that is a disagreeable duty that no
old-time "outer" ever neglects, unless circumstances compel him to do
so.

When the fire was in full blast, and the flames were roaring and
crackling and the sparks ascending toward the clouds, it was probable
that the interior of the cabin was bright and cheerful; but now it
looked dark and forbidding, thought the boys, as they stretched their
necks, twisted their bodies at all sorts of angles, and strained their
eyes in the vain effort to see through the gloom that seemed to have
settled over the other end of it.

It was a fine place for an ambuscade, but if the enemy had concealed
themselves there, why did they not come out? Now was the time for them
to make their presence known and felt.

All this while Tom Hallet's little beagle, upon which the boys had been
depending to warn them of the proximity of any danger that their less
acute senses might not enable them to detect, had been acting in a most
unusual manner. He was generally foremost in every expedition in which
his master took part, but in this one he was quite contented to remain
in the rear.

He went into the camp boldly enough, but after he had taken one look
at its surroundings, and caught a single sniff of the tainted air, he
stuck up the bristles on the back of his neck, dropped his tail between
his legs, and ran behind his master for protection.

"I really believe they are in there. 'St--boy! Go in and hunt them out!
Sick 'em!" whispered Tom, pointing to the cabin.

But Bugle was in no hurry to go. He was usually prompt to obey the
slightest motion of his master's hand; but now he refused to budge an
inch--except toward the rear.

He ran to the foot of the path and stood there, saying as plainly as a
dog could that he would go back to the top of the bluff before he would
advance a step nearer to the cabin.

The boys closely watched all his movements, and told themselves,
privately, that perhaps they had done a foolhardy thing in coming down
there.



CHAPTER XXIV.

ROBBERS.


"You're a coward!" exclaimed Tom, shaking his fist at the frightened
beagle, and forgetting in his anger that this was the first time the
animal had ever refused to yield ready obedience to his slightest wish.
"I'll trade you off for the meanest yellow cur in Bellville, and hire a
cheap boy to steal the cur. Come back here and see what there is in the
cabin, I tell you!"

"Don't scold him," interposed Joe. "I don't much like the idea of
venturing in there myself, but here goes."

As he spoke he drew back the hammer of his rifle, and, with steady,
unfaltering steps, walked into the cabin, little dreaming of the
astounding things that were to grow out of this simple act.

Tom and Bob promptly moved up to support him, but the sequel proved
that it wasn't necessary, for there was no one in the cabin to oppose
them.

When Joe announced this fact, which he did as soon as his eyes became
accustomed to the darkness, so that he could see what there was in
front of him, Tom wanted to know where the robbers were, but that was a
point on which his companions could not enlighten him.

"They have gone off on a plundering expedition, of course," continued
Tom, "and there's no telling when they will be back. We don't want to
let them catch us here."

"And neither do we want to leave until we have found out something
about them," answered Joe. "Come in here, one of you. I have discovered
a lot of plunder of some sort, and if we give it an overhauling we may
be able to find out who it belongs to, and what brought them here. The
other had better stay outside and keep watch."

Tom volunteered to stand guard, and so Bob went into the cabin. It was
large enough to accommodate half a dozen men, he found when he got into
it, but the "shake downs," which were spread upon the floor at the
farther end of it, indicated that probably not more than two or three
persons were accustomed to seek shelter there.

Bob had not been gone more than a minute when he called out to his
friend at the entrance:

"Say, Tom, here's our grip-sack."

Tom was amused as well as surprised. He and Bob had made that letter
up all out of their own heads, and with not the slightest suspicion
in their minds that there was anything to be found in that particular
gorge, except, perhaps, a solitary grouse or two, which had hidden
there to get out of the way of the shooters who made their headquarters
at the Beach, and yet they had located a concealed habitation, and
described at least one of the things that were to be found in it.

It was a little short of wonderful, and again Tom asked himself if such
a thing had ever happened before.

"Has it got a false bottom in it?" he inquired.

"Don't know," answered Bob. "Here it comes. Examine it yourself, if you
can open it, and let us know what you find in it."

The valise was locked when it left Bob's hand and went sailing toward
the entrance, but the force with which it struck the rocks burst it
open, giving Tom a view of its contents.

While he was taking a look at them, Joe and Bob were giving the cabin a
most thorough overhauling, tearing the beds to pieces, and peering into
every dark corner they could discover, and at every turn they found
something to strengthen them in the belief that they had stumbled upon
a den of thieves, sure enough.

In the way of provender, they found a whole ham, a bushel of potatoes,
and an armful of corn; and Joe declared that the last two must have
been stolen the night before, because the dirt was not dry on the
potatoes, and the husks on the ears of corn were perfectly fresh.

"Mr. Hallet's fields furnished those things, and I should not wonder
if the ham came from his smoke-house," said Joe. "But what could have
been their object in stealing these sheets and pillow-cases? Campers
don't generally care to have such things around, because they can't be
kept clean."

"Don't you think they used them to dress up their ghost?" inquired Bob.
"That dummy out there under the bushes has got a sheet on."

"So it has," replied Joe. "I'd give something to know what it was that
suggested to them the idea of scaring folks away with that thing. They
must know that everybody can't be frightened by white scare-crows. What
is it? Found a false bottom in that grip-sack?"

"Or the twelve thousand dollars in bills, and three hundred in gold?"
chimed in Bob.

These questions were addressed to Tom Hallet, who just then called
attention to himself by uttering an exclamation indicative of the
profoundest amazement.

By way of reply he shook a handful of greenbacks at them, and then
dropped it to pick up a large roll of postage stamps. By the time they
got out to him he had exchanged the stamps for two elegant gold watches.

"This grip-sack is full to the brim of valuables, money, and
securities," said Tom, in a scarcely audible whisper, "and I--stop your
noise!" he added, turning fiercely upon Bugle, who just then uttered a
sound that was between a whine and a bark, and came running from the
foot of the path where he had laid himself down to wait until the boys
were ready to leave the camp. "Shut your mouth, you coward!"

The beagle crowded close to his master's side, in spite of the efforts
the angry boy made to push him away, looked toward the path, and whined
and growled, and exhibited other signs of terror and excitement.

With a warning gesture to his companions, Joe moved farther away from
the cabin, and stood in a listening attitude.

In a second more, he turned about, jumped back to the valise and began
throwing the things into it in the greatest haste.

[Illustration: TREASURE TROVE]

"Hurry up, all of us!" said he in a thrilling whisper. "The men
are coming down the path. I don't know whether or not they have
seen anything to arouse their suspicions, but they are moving very
cautiously, and talking in low tones. There you are," he added, when
all the things that Tom had taken out of the valise had been crowded
promiscuously into it again. "Grab it up and run with it before Bugle
gives tongue to let them know that we are here. Bob and I will cover
your retreat."

Tom lost not a moment in acting upon this suggestion. In less time than
it takes to tell it, they had all disappeared in the bushes.

Tom made good time toward the first bend in the brook, hoping to get
out of sight before the men had opportunity to discover that their camp
had been disturbed during their absence, and he accomplished his object.

As soon as he passed the first bend, and left the camp out of sight,
Tom turned into the bushes and scrambled up the bluff, his watchful
guard following close behind him.

Knowing full well that the robbers were thoroughly armed, and that
it would be an easy matter for them to bushwack them during their
retreat, the boys did not relax their vigilance in the slightest degree
when they reached the top of the cliff, and neither did they neglect to
cover their flight by making use of every tree, rock and bush that came
in their way.

The experience they had gained in stalking the wild game of the hills
stood them in good stead now, and so stealthy were they in their
movements that the dry leaves that covered the ground scarcely rustled
beneath their tread.

Tom held a straight course for Joe's cabin, which was the nearest haven
of refuge, but no sooner did he get a glimpse of it than he came to a
sudden halt, and motioned to Joe to hasten to his side.

"What's the matter?" asked Joe. "There are no enemies in front of us, I
hope."

"Did you forget to close and lock your door when you left home this
morning?" inquired Tom.

"Of course I didn't. I took particular pains to-- Now can anybody tell
me what that means? The door is standing wide open, as sure as I live."

"Has Mr. Warren got two keys to that lock?" queried Bob.

"Not that I know of," answered Joe.

"Then that open door means this," continued Bob: "While we were
prowling about the robbers' camp, they, or some of their kind, seized
the opportunity to come here and see what you--"

Joe waited to hear no more. Without giving his friends a hint of his
intentions, he ran toward the cabin at the top of his speed, hoping to
corner somebody there, and cover him with his rifle so that he could
not escape. But in this he was disappointed.

It was plain that some one had been there while he was gone, for
the window was open, as well as the door, and the cabin was in the
greatest confusion. It had been ransacked as thoroughly as Joe and his
companions had ransacked the robbers' camp. Knowing that he could not
do the matter justice in English, the young game-warden leaned on the
muzzle of his rifle and said nothing.

"Who did it? Anything missing? This is a pretty state of affairs, I
must say!" were a few of the exclamations to which Tom and Bob gave
utterance, as they crowded into the cabin and took a hurried survey of
things.

Had it not been for Dan's encounter with the ghost on the previous day,
Joe would have thought at once that his brother was the guilty party;
but he did not suspect him now, because he knew that Dan would not dare
to come up there alone to take revenge upon him for his refusal to
admit him to a full partnership in his business. Silas was afraid to
come up there, too; and even if he were not, it wasn't likely that he
would do anything of this kind, because he wanted Joe to stay there and
earn the hundred and twenty dollars, so that he could take it away from
him.

"If the blame doesn't rest with Hobson or some of that clique, it rests
with the men to whom that grip-sack belongs," said Joe, confidently.
"I don't know whether they have stolen any of my things or not. I must
look them over first."

Tom offering to assist him in his work, Bob volunteered to stand guard
over them, adding:

"It begins to look to me as though this thing of playing game-warden
has its drawbacks, as well as going to school. Tom and I thought we
were going to have the finest kind of times up here this winter,
growing fat on grouse and squirrels, and enjoying the freedom of
camp-life; but I have my doubts. We came here only yesterday morning,
and just look at the fuss we have had already. What is it, Joe?"

"Do you see my shotgun anywhere, either of you?" asked Joe in reply. "I
am afraid it is gone. Yes, sir, it has been stolen," he added, after
he had looked in every place where so large an article could find
concealment. "I wish they might have left me that; but they didn't, and
with it they took my game-bag, powder-flask and shot-pouch. I know that
the whole outfit isn't worth any great sum; but I worked hard for it,
and somehow I don't like to lose it."

"I should say not," exclaimed Tom, who would hardly have exhibited
greater anger if his fine double-barrel had been carried off by the
thieves. "Look here, fellows," he added, suddenly, "that grip-sack was
found on Mr. Warren's grounds, and I suppose we ought to hand it over
to him, hadn't we? Well, then, shall we tell him about the ghost, or
shall we skip that?"

Bob and Joe didn't know how to answer this question. They hadn't
thought of it before.



CHAPTER XXV.

WHAT THE GRIP-SACK CONTAINED.


"And look here, fellows," said Tom, again, "If we forget to tell about
the ghost, how shall we account for the extraordinary interest we have
taken in the parties who live in the gorge? Answer me that, if you can."

"The manly way is the best way," observed Joe.

Tom and Bob knew that as well as Joe did. They were quite willing to
tell Mr. Warren, when they gave the valise into his keeping, that the
events of the day (all except the robbery of Joe's cabin, of course)
had been brought about by their fondness for practical joking, but they
could not make up their minds to do it, because they did not know how
Joe would feel about it.

If Silas and Dan were their father and brother, they wouldn't care to
have every one in the country for miles around know what fools they
had made of themselves over the letter which the former found in his
wood-pile.

"It isn't my fault that father and Dan believed the story that letter
told them," continued the young game-warden, "and I don't see that I am
under any obligation to keep their secret from my employer. I shall not
ask him to keep it still, although I shall expect him to do so; but if
the robbers are captured, as I hope they will be, the whole thing will
come to light just as soon as the lawyers get hold of it."

"Have you any idea where the things in this grip-sack came from?" said
Bob, looking in at the door. "Have you heard of a heavy robbery being
committed in these parts lately? Seen any account of it in the papers,
Tom?"

"No," replied the latter. "You have kept me so busy since you came up
here that I haven't had a chance to look at a newspaper."

"Neither have I," said Joe, with a smile; "not because I have been too
busy, but for the reason that we can't afford to take one. I have
no show whatever to keep posted in matters that happen outside the
Summerdale hills."

"Well, if you don't keep posted this winter, it will be your own
fault," said Tom, banging the table with a package of illustrated
papers which he had picked up from the floor. "Bob and I look to Uncle
Hallet to keep us supplied with reading matter, and you are welcome to
anything he gives us."

"Thank you," said Joe. "I have the promise of all the books I want from
Mr. Warren's library, and I should judge by the looks of that package
that he intends to provide me with papers, also. Have you seen anything
in the shape of grub, Tom?"

"Nary thing," was the answer. "Have much of a supply?"

"Enough to last a week, I should think."

"It isn't here now," said Tom, looking around. "It has gone off to keep
company with the shot-gun, most likely."

"I am afraid it has, and that I shall be obliged to pack up a fresh
supply on my back."

"Coming up here again to-night?" asked Tom.

"Of course I am," exclaimed Joe, who seemed surprised at the question.
"I belong here, don't I? Are you not coming back?"

"Certainly. But there are two of us, and only one of you; and,
besides, you have no watch-dog to warn you of--oh, you needn't laugh!
I know that Bugle acted the part of a coward to-day, but he is a good
watch-dog for all that. He will be sure to awaken us if any one comes
prowling around our cabin, and that is all we ask of him. There sir,
your cot is all right again."

"It's a wonder to me that they didn't steal my blankets," said Joe.
"But, after all, they've got a pretty good supply, and probably they
don't want any more to carry about the country with them, when they
find themselves obliged to break up housekeeping in the gulf, and
strike for new quarters. Now, I think we might as well go on to Mr.
Warren's. I haven't missed anything yet except my provisions and
shooting rig."

Bob caught up the valise, Joe fastened the door by replacing the
staple that had been pulled out of it, and the three boys struck
through the evergreens toward the cow-path before spoken of, which ran
from Silas Morgan's wood-pile to Mr. Warren's barn.

They were still much excited, and showed it plainly in their actions
and speech.

Although they had no reason to believe that the robbers were anywhere
near them, they did not forget to stop and listen now and then, and
look along the path behind; and if a squirrel jumped from one tree to
another, or the wind caused a sudden rustling among the neighboring
bushes, they were prompt to drop their guns into the hollow of their
arms and face in the direction from which the sound came.

"I declare I am as nervous as any old woman," said Bob, at length. "I
act and feel as if I had been frightened half out of my wits, and yet I
haven't seen a single thing."

"But you heard the robbers coming down the path, didn't you? And you
know that they would be only too glad to have revenge on the parties
who took their ill-gotten gains away from them," said Joe. "Now that I
think of it, what right had we to touch this grip-sack?"

"We took it 'on general principles,' as the policemen say when they
arrest a person against whom they have no evidence, but who they think
is getting ready to do something he ought not," was Bob's answer. "If
those men came honestly by the things that are in that valise, we are
liable to get ourselves into a pretty pickle for laying hands on it;
but I'll bet you anything you please that they'll not come down to Mr.
Warren's house after their property. 'Cause why, they haven't a shadow
of a right to it."

When the boys came within sight of the barn, they left the cow-path,
crawled through a pair of bars, and turned into the wide carriage-way
that ran around the house and past the front door.

Their vigorous pull at the bell brought out Mr. Warren himself.

"What are you doing here?" he asked, trying to look surprised and to
bring a frown to his jolly, good-natured face. "Is this what you
young gentlemen are paid for--to run about the country, while the
market-shooters slip up to those wood-lots and shoot all the birds?"

"If market-shooters were the only things we had to look out for, we'd
have a fine time this winter," replied Bob, as the gentleman shook
hands with him. "Do you see this grip-sack? Well, there's a tale
hanging to it."

Mr. Warren said he couldn't see any, and asked the boys to come in.

"That's because the tale is in our heads," replied Bob, seating himself
in the chair that was pointed out to him. "Will you be kind enough to
dump the things out of this valise and tell us what you think of them.

"What's in it?" inquired Mr. Warren, who looked puzzled.

Bob, by way of response, waved his hand toward Tom, who said, in answer
to the gentleman's inquiring glance:

"I didn't have time to make a very thorough examination of its
contents, for the robbers didn't stay away long enough; but--"

"The robbers!" exclaimed Mr. Warren.

"Yes; the men who are camping in the gorge. But I can't make you
understand it, unless I go at it right," said Tom, who then went on to
tell his story, to which Mr. Warren listened with the closest attention.

When Tom ceased speaking, he said:

"And so you knew that there was something in the gorge before you took
possession of your cabin, did you? Well, your Uncle Hallet suspected
it."

"I don't know what right he had to suspect anything," said Tom. "We
never told him of our experience in the gorge."

"I know you didn't, and the reason was because you were afraid he would
laugh at you. But he knew very well that you were keeping something
from him. When the idea of playing game-wardens first took hold of
you, you were very enthusiastic over it; but when you returned from
your trip down the gorge, and learned that Mr. Emerson had given Bob
permission to stay in the woods with you during the winter, you didn't
dance about and go into ecstasies, as you ought to have done. That's
why your Uncle suspects something; but, I declare, he didn't look for
anything like this," exclaimed Mr. Warren, gazing in surprise at the
contents of the valise, which he had turned out upon the carpet. "You
have done a good piece of detective work, for these things were stolen,
beyond a doubt, and if they came from the place I think they did, you
are entitled to a reward of ten thousand dollars."

"Great Scott!" exclaimed Tom and Bob, while Joe Morgan fairly gasped
for breath, and his mind suddenly became so confused that he could not
calculate how much his share of that reward would amount to. But he had
a dim idea that it would be something over three thousand dollars; and
wouldn't that place his mother above want for a good many years to come?

The young game-warden never once thought of himself, until his father's
scowling visage and Dan's arose before his mental vision, and then he
wondered what tactics they would resort to, and what new system of
persecution they would adopt, in order to squeeze the last cent of
those three thousand dollars out of him.

While he was thinking about it, he sat down on the floor beside Tom and
Bob, who were kneeling in front of Mr. Warren. When the latter laid one
of the watches aside, with the remark that it was a valuable timepiece,
and no doubt the rightful owner would be glad to get it back, Bob
picked it up and opened it. An inscription on the inside of the back
part of the case caught his eye, and he read it aloud as follows:


    "Geo. Y. Seely, Esq. With the regards of his grateful friend, Joel
    Burnett."


"What's that?" cried Mr. Warren. "Read that again, please."

Bob complied, and then handed over the watch, so that Joe's employer
could read it for himself.

"I know both those men," said the latter, at length. "I went to school
with them in the old academy at Bellville, and so did your father and
uncle," nodding at Tom and Bob. "Seely helped Burnett out of a tight
place, when his business was about to go to ruin, and Burnett gave him
this watch to show his gratitude."

"Then those things must have some from Hammondsport," exclaimed Tom.
"Say, Bob, don't you remember reading an account of the disappearance
of a lot of securities from the county treasurer's office in
Hammondsport, on the same night that several burglaries were committed
there?"

"I believe I do," replied Bob, after thinking a moment. "If my memory
serves me, the treasurer himself was suspected of having a hand in
it--that is, in the loss of the bonds; but they couldn't prove anything
against him."

"Of course, they couldn't," said Mr. Warren, indignantly. "The missing
papers are right here. I never did believe in his guilt, for I have
known him for years, and I never saw the least thing wrong with him. He
is under a cloud now, but it will break away as soon as your exploit
becomes known through the country. You have rendered him a most
important service, if you did but know it."

"I am glad that we have been of some use in the world," said Bob.

"Well, that was what you were put here for, wasn't it? How much do you
think these things are worth?" said Mr. Warren, as he put the various
packages back into the valise.

The boys couldn't tell; but they remembered now that the thieves had
taken a good deal of property out of Hammondsport on the night of their
raid, and Tom and Bob thought that perhaps they had secured as much as
forty or fifty thousand dollars' worth.

"You boys don't know much," replied Mr. Warren. "That valise, just as
it stands, couldn't be bought for a cent less than a hundred and fifty
thousand dollars. The bonds and securities are worth a pile of money,
I tell you; and there must be two or three thousands in greenbacks in
there, to say nothing of the watches. Boys, you have done something to
be proud of; and it's a lucky thing for Tom and Bob that they did not
try to find out where the howls that frightened them came from. The
robbers were at home then, and if they had not succeeded in driving
you away, they would have shot you down without ceremony."

"Then we had a perfect right to take that grip-sack, didn't we, Mr.
Warren?" said Joe, whose mind was not quite easy on that score.

"I should say you had," replied Mr. Warren, with a laugh. "You have
made yourselves wealthy, too, for you are fairly entitled to the
reward."

"Well, what are we going to do about arresting those thieves?" said Tom.

When all the packages had been put back into the valise, he and his
two companions had got upon their feet and shouldered their guns,
supposing, of course, that Mr. Warren would bestir himself as if he
meant to do something; but, instead of that, he settled back into his
chair and put his hands into his pockets.



CHAPTER XXVI.

MR. HALLET HEARS THE NEWS.


"What are you going to do about it?" repeated Tom, who was impatient
to begin operations at once. "The robbers have by this time discovered
that their ill-gotten gains have slipped through their fingers, and of
course they are not going to stay there in the gulf till the sheriff
comes and gobbles them up. While we are idling here, they may be taking
themselves safe off."

"They may, and then again they may not," said Mr. Warren. "If they are
at all acquainted with these hills--and if they are not, I don't see
why they came here in the first place--they must know that there's not
another spot in the whole country, of the same size, that affords so
many excellent hiding-places. But we'll talk about them by-and-by. Joe
is the fellow I am thinking about just now."

The young game-warden looked his surprise, but did not speak.

"Yes," continued Mr. Warren, "somehow I don't like to think about the
visit they made to his cabin while you boys were in the gorge. Did they
take any of your things, Tom?"

That was the first time it had ever occurred to Tom and his friend that
the robbers might have given their own house an overhauling, and that
possibly Joe Morgan was not the only one who had suffered at their
hands. They looked blankly at each other, and at last Bob managed to
say that they had not been near their cabin since they left it in Joe's
company, early in the morning.

"Then perhaps it would be worth while for you to go up there and look
into things," said Mr. Warren, "while I go down and talk to Hallet. It
is possible that we shall decide to take this valise to Hammondsport
before I come back. I am sure I don't want to keep it in the house over
night, for if those robbers should by any means get on the track of
it, they wouldn't be at all backward about coming here after it."

"I don't see how they could get on the track of it," Joe remarked.

"Did it ever occur to you that they might have followed you at a
distance when you came down from the mountain?" inquired Mr. Warren.

Yes, the boys had thought of that, and it had kept them on nettles. But
they were never off their guard, held their guns ready for instant use,
and faced about whenever they head the slightest sound. If the men were
on their trail, why did they not rush up and grab the valise?

"Because they did not care to face the bullets and bird-shot that were
in those guns--that's the reason," answered Mr. Warren. "They will not
do anything openly; I am not at all afraid of that. But I _am_ afraid
that they will be full of life and action when night comes. Perhaps,
after all, you boys had better bring your things down and stay at home,
until the sheriff has had opportunity to take those fellows into
custody. Joe, I give you an order to that effect."

"I don't much like the idea of deserting my post on account of
imaginary dangers," replied Joe.

"That's the idea; neither do I!" exclaimed Tom.

"It's my opinion that your Uncle Hallet will be quite positive on
that point," said Mr. Warren, who laughed heartily when he saw the
expression of disappointment and disgust that overspread the faces of
the young game-wardens.

"If he is, I'll kick, I bet you!" declared Tom.

"And much good will that do you. Now, Tom, be a good boy, and do a
little errand for me. Go out to the barn and tell Fred to hitch the
blacks to the canopy top. Then we'll all ride down to Uncle Hallet's
and see what he thinks of this morning's work."

Depositing his double barrel in one corner of the hall, Tom hastened
out to comply with this request, and Mr. Warren addressed himself to
Bob and Joe.

"This beats anything I ever heard of," said he. "Who would have
imagined that your love of mischief was destined to bring rogues to
justice, clear an honest man's reputation, and make you rich into the
bargain? Joseph, I am sorry you lost your gun; but you shall not go
hungry because they carried off your provisions."

"The gun wasn't worth much," was Joe's reply, "and perhaps I haven't
lost it yet. I shall live in hopes of having it returned to me when
those men are arrested. Do you really think I had better stop at home?"

"Of nights? Yes, I do."

"I am not at all afraid," began Joe.

"I haven't so much as hinted that you were," interrupted his employer,
"but I can't see the use of your putting yourself in the way of danger
for nothing. If there was any real need that you should stay up there,
the case would be different. My object, and Hallet's, in building those
cabins, was to provide comfortable quarters for our wardens, so that
they would not have to wade through the deep snow in going to and from
their work. If you will spend the day in walking around the woods and
looking out for market-shooters, it is all I shall ask of you, until
those robbers have been shut up. Even after that you may have trouble,
for you have got Brierly down on you."

"I don't see why Brierly should be down on him," said Bob. "By turning
him back, Joe helped him get twenty-five dollars for nothing."

"I am well enough acquainted with him to know that he will never
forgive Joe for threatening to report him," said Mr. Warren. "The first
good chance he gets, he will be even with him for that."

While they were talking in this way, Tom Hallet came bounding up the
steps, and a few minutes later the canopy top was driven up to the door.

The boys got in, in obedience to a sign from Mr. Warren; but one of
them, at least would have objected, if he had thought that he could
gain anything by it.

That one was Joe Morgan, who scarcely knew whether he stood on his head
or his feet. Mr. Warren's confident assertions regarding the value of
the property which he and his two friends had found in the robbers'
hiding place had turned him completely upside down--at least, that was
what he told himself. His share of the ten thousand dollars, if he ever
got it (and his employer did not seem to have any misgivings on that
point), would make a great change in his circumstances. It would put it
in his power to obtain the schooling he wanted, and give his mother the
good long rest of which everybody, except Silas and Dan, could see that
she stood so much in need.

"But won't they be hopping mad when they hear of it?" Joe asked
himself, over and over again. "And what would they have done with the
things that are in that valise, if they had found them? The money they
could have spent, of course; but they would not dare wear the watches
and jewelry, and the papers they would have destroyed, and with them
their only chance of putting in a claim for the reward. As things have
turned out, mother will receive the most benefit from this morning's
work, unless it be the county treasurer, who was unjustly accused of
crookedness. He can thank Bob and Tom for that, and if I ever see him,
I shall take pains to tell him so. If they had not played that joke on
father and Dan, he might have remained under a cloud all his life."

The young game-warden was so fully occupied with these thoughts that he
did not know what was going on around him, until Bob Emerson seized him
by the arm and shook him out of his reverie.

"Isn't that so?" he demanded.

"Certainly; it's all true," replied Joe.

"It was a nice place, wasn't it?" continued Bob.

"Splendid," said Joe, who had no idea what particular place Bob was
referring to.

But the latter did not notice his abstraction. He and Tom were telling
Mr. Warren what a nice camp the robbers had made for themselves under
the bluff, and dilating upon the amount of work they must have done in
making so good a path through those dense thickets.

"In front of the cabin--that's the way we always speak of it, for it
wasn't really a cave, you know--there was a cleared half-circle that
was fully as large as your parlor," said Bob. "In this circle we saw a
few battered cooking utensils, the smoking ashes of a camp-fire, and
the ghost that frightened Dan Morgan so badly that he dared not carry
the secret to bed with him. I said from the first that it was a man and
not an animal that yelled at us when Tom and I came down that gorge day
before yesterday, and I finally succeeded in making Tom think so, too;
but he insisted that it wasn't an outlaw, but some one who took it into
his head to play a trick on us, just for the fun of seeing us run. Not
until Joe told us his story, and gave us his ideas regarding matters
and things, did we know just what we would have to face if we went into
that gorge."

"You say the ghost seemed to grow in height while Dan looked at it,"
observed Mr. Warren. "Did Dan's fears make him say that, or was it a
part of the trick?"

"Of course I am not positive on that point," was Bob's reply, "but I
think it was a part of the trick. I gave but one hasty glance at the
dummy, but I took note of the fact that it was rigged on a very long
pole, and it would have been easy for the man who was managing it to
raise it higher and higher above the bushes, if he wanted to do it. I
also noticed that the face was made of a stuffed pillow-case, which had
been blackened with a piece of coal to show where the eyes, nose and
mouth ought to be."

"What do you think suggested to them the idea of making use of a dummy
to frighten folks away from their hiding-place?"

"I don't know, unless it was the success that attended their efforts to
keep Tom and me from going there," answered Bob.

But the sequel proved that, although he had guessed pretty closely on
some things, he had shot wide of the mark when he guessed at this one.

"As good luck would have it, you went into the gorge while the robbers
were absent on a plundering expedition," said Mr. Warren. "But suppose
you had found them at home, and ready to receive you--what then?"

"But we didn't, you see!" exclaimed Tom, triumphantly. "We had the camp
all to ourselves."

"I must say that you are a reckless lot," declared Mr. Warren, "and it
would be serving you just right if Uncle Hallet should order you to be
ready to start for school when the next term begins."

Bob looked blank, but Tom hastened to quiet his fears by saying:

"He will never think of such a thing. He is a firm friend of Mr.
Shippen," (that was the name of the county official who was suspected
of making way with the bonds and other valuable documents that had been
placed in his hands for safe keeping), "and when Uncle Hallet knows
that we can clear him, he will be so delighted that he won't think of
scolding us. There he is now. He has been out to get some flowers for
his library table."

Mr. Hallet was surprised to see his neighbor drive into his yard
with the three game-wardens, who ought to have been far away on the
mountain attending to business, and almost overwhelmed with amazement
when he heard the story they told him while seated on the porch.

When Mr. Warren showed him the recovered securities, at the same time
remarking that their mutual friend Shippen would be cleared of all
suspicion the moment those papers were produced in Hammondsport, Uncle
Hallet went into the hall after his hat and duster, declaring that it
was a matter of the gravest importance, and must be attended to at once.

Then he added something that gave his nephew the opportunity to "kick."

"I am going over to the county-seat with Mr. Warren, and you two boys
had better stay here until I return," was what he said.

"Now, just look here--" began Tom.

"I know all about it," interrupted his uncle, turning his head on one
side and waving his hands up and down in the air, "and I am in too
great a hurry to listen to any argument. Joe Morgan has seen one
white face looking at him through his window, and if you stay up there
to-night you will see two; but they will be white with anger, and
not with fear. You have got yourselves in a box by your prying and
meddling," added Uncle Hallet, who was delighted with the exploit the
boys had performed and proud of their pluck, "and I want you to keep
away from those hills after dark, I tell you."

"Well," said Tom, with a long-drawn sigh, "I suppose I shall have to
submit."

"I think I would, if I were in your place," said Mr. Warren.

And as he spoke he brought so comical a look to his face that every one
on the porch broke out in a hearty laugh.



CHAPTER XXVII.

JOE'S PLANS.


When they had had their laugh out, Mr. Warren said to Uncle Hallet:

"Don't you think it would be a good plan for the boys to bring their
outfit to a place of safety until the sheriff has had time to go up
there and take care of those robbers? If they take it into their heads
to burn the cabins, we don't want them to burn everything there is in
them."

"Of course not," assented Mr. Hallet. "Tom, tell Hawley to hitch up and
move you down at once--you and Joe. Mind, now, I want him to go with
you."

"We don't need him," protested Tom. "We can take care of ourselves."

Uncle Hallet did not think it necessary to discuss this point. He had
given his orders, and he knew that they would be strictly obeyed.

He stepped into Mr. Warren's wagon, and the latter drove out of the
yard, leaving the boys to themselves.

"He didn't say that we couldn't go back again as soon as the robbers
have been caught, did he?" observed Bob, whose fears on that score were
now set at rest. "It's going to be a bother to walk up there and back
every day, when we might just as well remain in our cabins, but it
seems that we've got to do it."

Tom replied that it certainly looked that way; adding, that it would be
of no use for them to "kick," because he knew by the expression that
was on Uncle Hallet's face when he laid down the law to them, that he
meant every word he said.

They went out to the barn, and found Hawley, the hostler, gardener, and
man-of-all-work, who could hardly believe the story they told him while
he was hitching up; and it needed the sight of Mr. Warren's blacks,
stepping out for Hammondsport at their best pace, and an examination
of the broken fastenings of Joe's cabin, to convince him that the boys
had not dreamed it all, and that there had really been something going
on up there on the mountain.

"I wouldn't sleep in one of these shanties as long as those robbers are
at liberty for twice fifteen dollars a month, and I think Uncle Hallet
did just right in telling you to keep away from here after dark," said
Hawley.

And he was in such haste to get the things into his wagon and start for
home, that the boys were surprised, and wondered if he would be of any
use to them if they got into any trouble.

"There," said Tom, at length; "Joe's cabin is as empty as it was two
days ago. Now, let us go over to our own domicile, and see how things
look there. We can move faster than you can, Hawley, so we will go on
ahead."

"Well, I guess you'd better not," was the man's reply. "I judged from
what you said that it was your uncle's wish that I should keep an eye
on you. And how am I going to do it if you don't stay with me?"

"We are in a great hurry to find out whether or not our house was
robbed at the same time that Joe's was," replied Bob, "and we can look
out for ourselves. Come on boys!"

"He acts as if he were afraid to be left alone," whispered Joe Morgan.

"And I believe he is," answered Bob. "Events may prove that we are in
more danger up here than we think for."

Bob didn't know how close he shot to the mark when he uttered these
careless words, but he found it out afterwards.

Paying no heed to Hawley's remonstrances, the boys hastened on in
advance of him, and in due time came within sight of Tom's cabin.
Nothing there had been disturbed.

If the robbers knew of its existence, they probably did not think it
safe to go there, because it was so far from their hiding-place.

"We don't want those things to go," said Tom, when Hawley drove up and
jumped out of his wagon. "We've kept out grub enough for our dinner."

"Ain't you going back with me?" inquired the man.

"What's the use? We would have to come up here again, and we don't
care to prance up and down this mountain any more times than we are
obliged to. It is understood that we are to stay here during the day.
If we didn't, these wood-lots would be black with shooters in less than
twenty-four hours."

"Well, I wouldn't stay, day or night," said Hawley. "Them birds ain't
worth the danger that you fellows put yourselves in every minute you
spend here."

Hawley's anxiety to get through with his work and start for home, was
so apparent, that it is a wonder the young game-wardens did not grow
frightened and decide to go back with him; but they didn't think of
it. They helped him load his wagon, and saw him depart without any
misgivings.

"Now, what arrangements shall we make about dinner?" said Bob, as soon
as Hawley was out of sight. "I say, let's eat it at once, and be done
with it; then we will save ourselves the trouble of packing it around
through the woods for an hour and a half."

The boys were all hungry, and knowing by experience that a loaded
haversack or game-bag is an awkward thing to carry through bushes, they
agreed to Bob's proposition, and set to work immediately.

By their united efforts a substantial meal was quickly made ready and
as quickly disposed of, and then they bade one another good-by and
separated.

"Joe's got good pluck, I must say," exclaimed Tom Hallet, turning about
to take a last look at Mr. Warren's warden, who was just disappearing
in the gloom of the woods. "I don't think I should be afraid to be left
here alone, but I am very well satisfied to have you with me."

And Joe Morgan would have been better satisfied if he, too, had had
a companion to talk to, instead of being obliged to roam about by
himself. But he was working for money, of which his mother stood in
need, and he did his duty, although (candor compels us to say it) he
gave the gorge a wide berth.

The startling events of the morning and the many warnings he had
received were of too recent occurrence to be forgotten, and he didn't
care if he never saw that gorge again; still, he would have gone even
there if he had seen or heard the least thing to indicate that poachers
were at work in that vicinity.

He kept a sharp eye on his watch, and when the clumsy-looking hands
told him that he had just time enough left to get home before dark,
he bent his steps toward the wood-pile, which he always took as his
point of departure, carrying a light heart in his breast, and the happy
consciousness that he had left nothing undone.

"On the contrary, it's the best day's work I ever did," said Joe, to
himself. "Three thousand three hundred dollars, and a little more for
my share of the reward! Wh-e-w! I do wish I could think of some way to
keep it from father's knowledge and Dan's; but they are bound to hear
of it, and make me all the trouble they can concerning it, and I don't
know but I might as well face the music to-night as any other time."

The future looked as bright to the young game-warden as it did to Silas
Morgan the first time we saw him moving down that road. But there was
this difference between the two: Joe had something tangible upon which
to build his hopes, while his father had nothing but the letter he held
in his hand.

His mother was the first to greet him when he reached home; indeed, she
was the only one of the family there was in sight. She was surprised
and startled to see him, but she saw at a glance that there was no
cause for alarm.

"Where's father and Dan?" inquired Joe, taking the precaution to open
the door, which had been closed behind him.

He did not want either of the two worthies whose names he had just
mentioned to slip up and hear what he had to say to his mother.

"I don't know where they are now," was Mrs. Morgan's answer. "Daniel
has been sitting there on the bank almost ever since you went away; but
your father, would you believe it, Joe?--he has been down to the Beach
to give up the setters that he has had in his keeping so long."

"Good enough!" exclaimed Joe, who was delighted to hear it. "I have
been afraid that those dogs would get him into trouble sooner or later,
and they would, too, if he had held fast to them much longer. Did he
find the owner?"

"No; but he gave them to the landlord, to be kept until they were
called for. I don't know what sort of a story he told regarding them,
but he seemed to feel better when he came back."

"Have you any idea what induced him to take that step?"

"I think it was the fright he had."

"Good enough!" said Joe, again. "Those hants--for there are two of
them--are the best friends we ever had. Now, don't say a word, for I
want to tell you something before anybody comes to interrupt me. I
repeat, they are good friends of ours. They have led father into making
restitution of property that he never ought to have had in his hands,
and they have been the means of--"

Before he told what the hants had been the means of doing, Joe stepped
to the door and looked out.

It was pitch dark now, but the light that streamed from the door of the
cabin was bright enough to show him that there was no eavesdropper in
sight.

Why didn't he think to go around the corner and look behind the chimney?

"They have made us rich, mother," continued Joe, stepping to Mrs.
Morgan's side, and speaking in low but distinct tones. "I made three
thousand three hundred dollars this morning by doing less than two
hours' work. Hold on till I get through. I know you are astonished, and
so am I; but it's all true. Sit down, for I've a long story to tell."

The young game-warden, who stood in constant fear of interruption,
talked rapidly, but he went into all the details, and, by the time he
got through, his mother knew as much about it as he did himself; but
she said she was afraid it was too good to be true.

"No, it isn't," exclaimed Joe. "When Tom told our story to Mr. Hallet's
hired man, he declared that we had been asleep and dreamed it all. But
it isn't reasonable to suppose that we could all dream the same thing,
is it? When other folks begin talking about it, you will find that it
is true, every word of it. I wish there was some one here to hold me on
the ground," cried Joe, jumping from his chair and swinging his arms
around his head. "Mother, your hard days are all over, and I can go to
school, can't I? I am going to study hard this winter, and whenever I
get stumped, I'll ask Tom and Bob to help me out."

Having worked off a little of his surplus enthusiasm, Joe sat down
again and talked coolly and sensibly with his mother regarding his
prospects for the future.

So deeply interested did he become in what he was saying, that he did
not hear the very slight rustling behind the cabin that was occasioned
by his brother Dan, who withdrew his ear from the crack between the
boards against which it had been closely pressed, and stole off into
the darkness.

But Dan was there and heard it all; and he pounded his head with both
his fists as he walked away.



CHAPTER XXVIII.

CAPTURE OF BOB EMERSON.


Although the young game-warden did not see them, Silas Morgan and his
hopeful son Dan were both sitting on the river bank, in plain view of
the cabin, when he came home. They were both surprised to see him, and
Dan gave it as his private opinion that one night alone in the woods
had effectually taken away all Joe's desire to act as Mr. Warren's game
protector during the winter.

"And I'm just glad of it," said Dan, spitefully. "I hope in my soul
that that hant came and looked in at his winder, and howled and
screeched at him like he did at us."

"Well, I hope he didn't," answered Silas. "If Joe is drove away from
there, I don't know what we will do for grub and such when winter
comes. I ain't a going up to old man Warren's wood-lot to work, I bet
you!"

"Neither be I," said Dan.

"Then where's the money to come from? We can't live without money, you
know."

"Well, Joe ain't going to give you none of his'n, 'cause he told me
so. He's going to give every cent of it to mam, and you and me can go
hungry for all he cares."

"No, I don't reckon we'll go hungry. I know when pay-day comes as well
as he does; and when I know that he's got the month's wages in his
pocket, can't I easy steal it outen your mam's possession after he
hands it over to her? Didn't think of that, did you?"

"Well, you won't never steal any money outen mam's pocket, nuther,"
replied Dan. "Whenever she wants anything from the store, Joe he'll
give her an order on old man Warren, and mam won't tech none of his
earnings. He told me so. You're mighty sharp, pap, but that Joe of
our'n is one ahead of you this time."

Dan looked to see his father go into a fearful rage when he said this,
but Silas did not do anything of the sort. He sat with his elbows
resting on his knees and his hands supporting his head, gazing off into
the darkness toward the opposite side of the river.

"What do you reckon that stingy Joe of our'n has come back here to tell
mam?" continued Dan.

Silas was obliged to confess that he didn't know, and followed it up
with the suggestion that it might be a good plan for him to creep up
and find out.

"Creep up yourself, if you want to know wusser'n I do," was Dan's
reply. "Can't you see that the door is wide open?"

"What of it?" said Silas. "Can't you creep up behind the chimbly!
There's a crack there atween the boards that you've often listened at,
'cause I've seen you. Who knows but Joe may be telling her something
about the money that's in the cave?"

Dan said it was not likely that Joe knew anything about the cave,
beyond what he himself had told him; but still his father's words
aroused his curiosity, and awakened within him a desire to learn what
Joe had to say to his mother.

He waited a moment or two to bring his courage up to the sticking
point, and then threw himself upon his hands and knees and crept away
from his father's sight. He was gone about twenty minutes, and when
he returned, he acted so much like a crazy boy that Silas was really
afraid of him.

"What's the matter of you?" he demanded, in an angry whisper. "Did Joe
say anything so't you could hear it?"

"You're right he did," Dan managed to say, at last. "Oh, pap, we'll
never in this world have another chance like that. We had the best kind
of a show to get rich, and we let it slip through our fingers, fools
that we was."

Silas fairly gasped for breath. He stared fixedly at Dan, who sat on
the bank, rocking himself from side to side; but he was too amazed to
speak.

"The money was there all the time," Dan went on, "and that Joe of our'n
he went and got it, dog-gone the luck!"

"And all along of your telling him about it, you idiot," snarled Silas.
"If you had kept your mouth shet, that Joe of our'n wouldn't never have
known that the money was there. I have the best notion in the world
to--"

"Now, can't you wait until I tell you?" exclaimed Dan, whose senses
came back to him very speedily when he saw that his father was pushing
up his sleeves. "It wasn't all along of my telling him, nuther, that
Joe found out about the cave. Tom and Bob told him, for they were the
ones that writ the letter you took outen your wood-pile."

The ferryman's astonishment quickly got the better of his rage, and he
listened in a dreamy sort of way to the story that Dan had to tell him;
but when the latter reached the end of it, and Silas found out that he
had really been within a few yards of a valise whose contents could not
be purchased for less than one hundred and fifty thousand dollars, and
that the white thing that frightened him was not a ghost, after all,
but a dummy, managed by a man who might have been disabled by a single
charge from his double-barrel--when Silas heard this, he was ready to
boil over again.

The fact that a third of the handsome reward that had been offered for
the recovery of the stolen bonds would come into his family did not
serve as a balm for his wounded feelings. He wanted the money himself;
and the reflection that after coming so near to securing it, he had
allowed himself to be frightened away by--

"Oh, my soul!" groaned Silas, jumping to his feet, and striding up and
down the bank, with both hands tightly clenched in his hair. "Here's
me and you, as poor as Job's turkey, while that Joe of our'n has got
more'n twice as much as he oughter have. He's rich, and after this he
won't do nothing but loaf around and spend his money, while me and
you-- Now, wait till I tell you! Did you ever hear of such amazing
mean luck before? Toot away!" he cried, shaking both his fists at the
opposite bank. "I wouldn't go over after you if I knew I'd get five
dollars for it. What's five dollars alongside the ten thousand we
might have had if we hadn't been such fools? Oh, Dannie, why didn't we
shoot a little lower?"

While Silas was talking, the blast of a horn sounded from the other
side of the river. It was a notice to the ferryman that there was
some one over there who wanted to cross the stream, but Silas was in
no humor to respond to it. Again and again the signal was given, and
finally a hail came through the darkness.

"Hallo, there!" shouted a familiar voice. "Is Joe Morgan at home?"

"No, he ain't!" growled Dan in reply.

"Yes, he is!" shouted the owner of that name, who had come out to
assist in taking the flat across the river. "Is that you, Tom Hallet?"

"Yes. Have you seen anything of Bob?"

"Not since dinner," was Joe's answer. "What's the matter with him?"

"We hope there isn't anything the matter with him," shouted Tom; "but
we begin to think-- Say, Joe, come over, and bring a lantern. I have
something to show you."

"I don't know how he's going to get over, unless he is able to manage
the flat all by himself," said Dan, in an undertone. "I won't help him,
I bet you."

Silas was about to say the same, but his curiosity, of which he had
considerably more than two men's share, got the better of him.

"What do you reckon he wants to show you?" said he, addressing himself
to Joe; "and what's become of Bob?"

"I am sure I can't tell," answered Joe. "But if you will help me to
take the flat over, we will find out all about it. I am sure you will
hear something worth listening to if you will lend a hand."

"All right; I'm there," said Silas, jumping up with alacrity.

"But I ain't," said Dan, doggedly.

"Who said anything to you?" demanded his father, almost fiercely. "Set
where you are if you feel like it. Me and Joe can get along without
none of your help; and furder'n that," he added, in a lower tone, as
Joe ran to the house to bring a candle and some matches--there being no
such thing as a lantern in the ferryman's humble abode--"me and Joe
will go snucks on his share of the reward, and you shan't see a cent of
it. So there, now!"

These words were sufficient to infuse a good deal of life and energy
into Dan. He believed that his father would yet contrive some way to
swindle Joe out of every dollar that came into his possession, and if
he (Dan) hoped to get any of it for his own, he must be very careful
how he went contrary to his father's wishes.

When Joe came back with the candle, Silas and Dan were standing in the
flat, all ready to shove off.

The young game-warden could not remember when he had carried so heavy a
heart across the river as he did on this particular evening.

He did not say anything, for he knew that his father and Dan could not
understand his feelings, but his brain was exceedingly busy.

Bob Emerson had disappeared in some unaccountable way. He knew that
much, and somehow Joe could not help connecting this circumstance with
some words the missing boy had let fall the last time he was in his
company.

"We may be in more danger while we are up here than we think for," and,
"This thing is going to end in something besides fun."

These words, which Bob had uttered without giving much heed to what he
was saying, now seemed to Joe to be prophetic of disaster.

Of course, this reflection made him uneasy, and he exerted himself
to get the heavy flat over to the other side with as little delay as
possible. So did Dan, for a wonder, and the result was, that they made
a much quicker passage than they usually did.

When the flat came within sight of the bank, Silas, who was at the
steering-oar, leaned forward and informed Joe, in a whisper, that Tom
was not alone--that his uncle Hallet, old man Warren, and both their
hired men were with him, as well as two strangers whom he didn't
remember to have seen before. But a moment later, he added, in tones of
excitement:

"Yes, I have seen 'em, too. They're the sheriff and one of his
deputies. Well, they can't do nothing to me. Ain't it a lucky thing for
me, Joey, that I give up them setter dogs to-day?"

"I am glad you did," replied Joe, "but I shall always be sorry that you
ever had anything to do with them in the first place."

With a few long sweeps of his steering-oar, Silas brought the flat
broadside to the bank, and Joe Morgan sprang out. Tom Hallet was the
first one to speak to him.

"Did I understand you to say that you have not seen Bob since we ate
dinner together?" said he in a trembling voice.

"That is just what I said," answered Joe, whose worst fears were now
fully confirmed. "You and he went off together, and I haven't seen him
since. Where is he?"

"I wish I knew," replied Tom. "We felt sorry for you, when we saw you
going away alone; but you got back safe and sound, while we didn't. You
see-- Where's your lantern?"

Joe replied that he had brought a candle, and proceeded to light
it. Then Bob handed him a slip of paper on which were written the
following fateful words:


    "If you will bring back the property you stole from us, and put it
    where you found it, we will give up our prisoner. If you don't,
    or if you attempt to play tricks upon us, you will never see him
    again."


This portion of the note was written in a strange hand, but under it
was a postscript which Tom declared had been penned by nobody but Bob
Emerson. It ran thus:


    "They've got me, Tom, and that's all there is about it. For
    goodness sake, bring back that valise! And be quick about it, for
    they threaten to do all sorts of dreadful things to me, if their
    demands are not complied with in less than twenty-four hours."


Joe handed back the piece of paper, and looked at Tom without speaking.



CHAPTER XXIX.

THE HUNT FOR THE ROBBERS.


"Bob was right when he declared that this thing was destined to end in
something besides fun, wasn't he?" observed Tom, giving utterance to
the very thoughts that were passing through Joe Morgan's mind. "But
I don't believe he ever dreamed that anything like this was going to
happen."

"Do you think the robbers have got hold of him?" faltered Joe, who knew
that Tom expected him to say something.

"I know it?" was the answer.

"Where were you when they captured him?"

"I don't know. The way it happened was this: After you left us we
decided to make the entire round of uncle's wood-lot, and as we
couldn't do it if we stayed together, we separated, and that was the
last I saw of Bob Emerson. Before parting we agreed to meet at the
cabin at six o'clock, sharp. I was there at the minute, but Bob wasn't,
and while I was waiting for him, I happened to see this notice, which
was fastened to the door of the shanty with a wooden pin. That's all
there is of it."

"Why don't you go down to the gorge?"

"We went there the first thing, and we've been everywhere else that we
could think of," replied Tom. "They left their camp in a great hurry;
but where they went is a mystery. But we will have them before many
hours have passed away," added Tom, confidently. "These officers have
come up from Hammondsport on purpose to arrest them, and they are not
going back without them. We are taking them down to the Beach now, to
raise a "hue and cry" among the guides there, and by daylight to-morrow
morning the mountains will be full of men. There is an additional
reward offered for the arrest of the thieves, you know, and it is big
enough to stimulate everybody to extra exertion."

While Tom and Joe were talking in this way, the rest of the party had
gathered about Silas, whom they were trying to induce to join in the
general hunt that was to be made on the following day.

Dan, being left to himself, listened with one ear to what Tom was
saying to his brother, and with the other tried to keep track of the
conversation that was going on in his father's neighborhood.

When he heard Tom say that a reward had been offered for the
apprehension of the robbers, as well as for the recovery of the
property they had stolen, he stepped closer to him, and whispered:

"Do you know how much it is?"

"Five thousand dollars for both of them, or half of it for one,"
answered Tom. "Now, Dan, there's a chance for you to make yourself
rich."

"But that there hant--" began Dan.

"Is no hant at all," replied Tom. "Why, man alive, there are no such
things, and I thought everybody knew it. I took a good look at this one
while we were up there to-night, and found that it was nothing but a
long pole with a stuffed pillow-case on one end of it for a head, and a
short cross-piece for the shoulders. The man who managed it and made it
act as if it were about to spring at you was behind the bushes out of
sight. He and his companion did the yelling, and you never hurt either
one of them, although your four charges of shot tore the pillow-case
all to pieces."

"Yes," replied Dan, "Pap 'lowed that we'd oughter fired into the bresh."

"Exactly. If you had showed a little more pluck, you and your father
might have had ten thousand dollars to divide between you. As it turned
out, Joe is entitled to only a third of it, but he'll get that, sure."

"Dog-gone such luck!" exclaimed Dan, in a tone of deep disgust.

"Well, it was a windfall to your family, anyway," observed Tom, "and
you can add more to it to-morrow, if you're smart."

"And what will poor Bob be doing while we are hunting for him?"
inquired Joe. "He seems to be frightened, for he wants you to give up
the valise, and be quick about it."

"Oh, nonsense!" exclaimed Tom; "you don't know Bob Emerson as well as
I do. He wrote that postscript, of course, and so would you if you had
been in his place. But Bob would be the maddest boy you ever saw if we
should pay the least attention to it."

At this moment Uncle Hallet and Mr. Warren turned toward the place
where the boys were standing, the former saying, with some impatience
in his tones:

"Well, Silas, if you are afraid to come you can stay at home; but I
would have a little more pluck if I were in your place. You'll come,
won't you, Joe, and help us hunt down those villains who have kidnapped
Bob Emerson?"

"Indeed I will," answered Joe, promptly.

"I knew that would be your reply," continued Mr. Hallet. "Now, if you
will bring the flat to the bank and drop the apron, we'll get our team
aboard and go on to the Beach."

The ferryman and his boys went to work with a will, and when the flat
reached the other side of the river, the passengers got into their
wagon and drove toward the Beach, after telling Silas that they would
go home by way of the bridge, and he need not stay up to ferry them
back; while Joe hurried off to tell his mother what he had learned
during his short interview with Tom Hallet.

"It's the greatest outrage I ever heard of," said he, indignantly; "but
they needn't think they are going to make anything by it. Don't I wish
I might be lucky enough to gobble at least one of those robbers!"

"Oh, Joseph, I don't know whether I want you to go up there or not,"
said his mother, growing frightened again.

"I must!" replied Joe, decidedly. "I have promised to be at Tom's cabin
to-morrow morning at daylight, and that settles it. I wonder if father
and Dan will go?"

That was the very question that Silas and his worthy son were
propounding to each other as they sat side by side on the river's bank.

The terrible fright they had sustained on the day they went after the
money was still fresh in their minds; but then, there was the reward,
which was a sure thing this time, provided they could be fortunate
enough to capture the robbers.

They were both willing, and even eager, to join in the "hue-and-cry"
that was to be raised against the thieves, provided they could do it in
their own way; and the plans they were revolving in their minds, but of
which they did not speak, were the same in every particular.

For example, Dan wanted his father to stay at home, and after he got
into the mountains, he wanted nobody but Joe for company.

The latter had showed himself to be bold as well as lucky, and if they
two should happen to catch one of the robbers, Dan would not feel that
he was under the slightest obligation to share the reward with his
brother, because Joe had more than three thousand dollars of his own
already. But if his father went with him, he would lay claim to half
the money, and he would be likely to get it, too, for he had the right
to take every cent Dan made.

This was the way Dan looked at the matter; and it was the very way his
father looked at it. The result was, that although they spent an hour
or more in looking it over, they went to bed without deciding whether
they would go or not.

Nevertheless, they had well-defined plans in their heads, and each one
resolved that he would carry them out regardless of the wishes of the
other.

Silas, in order to throw Dan off his guard, began operations by saying
to his wife, the moment he entered the cabin:

"I ain't a-going to jine in the rumpus the sheriff kicks up after them
fellers to-morrow. It's mighty comical to me how easy some people can
talk to you about putting yourself in the way of getting a charge
of bird-shot sent into you, while they keep outen range themselves.
I ain't got no call to resk my life a finding of Bob Emerson, and I
shan't do it to please nobody."

Dan was secretly delighted to see his father work himself into a rage
over the supposition that somebody would be pleased to see him go in
the way of danger.

"If he will only stick to that, I'm all right," said he, to himself.
"Pap sleeps sounder'n a dozen men oughter, and if Joe don't call him in
the morning, you can bet your bottom dollar _I_ won't."

Knowing his failing in this particular, Silas made the mental
resolution that he would not go to sleep at all. The young game-warden,
who was one of those lucky fellows who can wake at any hour they
please, could be relied on to make an early start, and Silas told
himself that he would lie perfectly still and wide awake until
breakfast was ready, when he would jump up, eat his full share of the
bacon and potatoes, and set out for the mountain when Joe did.

But even while he was thinking about it, he went off into a deep
slumber. He did not awake when Joe got up, and neither did the rattling
of the dishes nor the savory odors of the bacon and coffee arouse him
to a consciousness of what was going on in the cabin.

Having heard him say that he did not intend to join the sheriff's
posse, Mrs. Morgan and Joe did not think it worth while to disturb him,
and Dan would not do anything to interfere with his own plans, which
thus far were working as smoothly as he could have desired.

"But I've got a sneaking idee that there'll be trouble in this here
house when pap does wake up, and finds me and Joe gone," thought Dan.
"No matter. I won't be here to listen to his r'aring and pitching,
so he can go on all he wants to. And if me and Joe should catch one
of them robbers--whoop-pee! Then I'll have the reward all to myself;
'cause I ain't a going to put myself in the way of getting shot at, and
then go snucks with a feller that's got more'n three thousand dollars
a'ready. I'll see him furder first."

The hours dragged along all too slowly for the tired, patient woman who
sat in the open door with her sewing in her lap, and her tear-dimmed
eyes fastened upon the hills among which the only member of the family
who cared for her, or who tried in any way to smooth her pathway and
make her burdens easier to bear, might at that very moment be rushing
to his destruction. She wished he might have stayed at home and let
some one else go in his place; but Joe was loyal to his friend, and
Mrs. Morgan had not tried to turn him from his purpose. She wished,
too, that the weary day was over, so that the young game-warden could
come back and say something comforting to her.

Just then somebody did say something, but the voice belonged to one who
was not often guilty of saying or doing anything to comfort her.

"Na-r-r-r!" came from a distant corner of the cabin, and Silas Morgan
threw off the blankets and started up in bed, to find that it was broad
daylight, that breakfast had been cooked and eaten, and that the boy he
had hoped to outwit was gone. He saw it all at a glance, but he wanted
an explanation.

"Where be they?" he demanded.

"They have been gone almost three hours," was the meek response.

"And you let 'em go without saying a word to me?" roared the angry and
disappointed man.

"Why, father, you told me last night that you didn't intend to go,"
said his wife.

"And you didn't have any better sense than to believe it!" shouted
Silas. "Did they go off together? Well, old woman, you have cooked
your goose this time--you have for a fact. I wanted to go with Joe
myself, and leave Dan to home, 'cause he ain't no account when there's
any shooting and such going on. He's too much of a coward to stand
fire, Dan is. I had kind o' made it up in my mind that me and Joe
would captur' one, and mebbe both, of them bugglars, and I kalkerlated
to give you the most of my share of the money; but now you won't get
none, and it serves you just right for letting me sleep when you
oughter called me up. But I'll tell you one thing for a fact--the three
thousand that Joe has made already, and the hundred and twenty he's
going to earn this winter, is mine; likewise all the reward him and Dan
get to-day, if they get any."

So saying, Silas shouldered his double-barrel and left the cabin,
paying no sort of attention to his wife's entreaties that before he set
out for the mountain he would take a cup of coffee and a bite of the
breakfast she had kept warm for him.



CHAPTER XXX.

BRIERLY'S SQUAD CAPTURES A ROBBER.


When Morgan arose from his "shake-down" on the morning of this
particular day, he was promptly joined by his brother Dan, whose
actions told him as plainly as words that he had reasons of his own for
not wishing to disturb his father's slumbers.

Dan was generally the last one of the family to bestir himself in the
morning, and even after he got upon his feet, it took him a good while
to wake up; but it was not so in this instance. His senses came to him
the moment he opened his eyes, and, for a wonder, he brought in the
wood, and lent a hand at setting the table.

He moved about the room with noiseless footsteps, spoke in scarcely
audible whispers, and cast frequent and anxious glances toward his
father's couch.

"Well, sir, we done it, didn't we?" said he, when breakfast had been
eaten and he and Joe were hurrying along the road toward the place of
meeting.

"Did what?" inquired his brother.

"Got away without waking pap up," said Dan, who was in high glee. "I
knew he said last night that he didn't mean to go, but I wasn't such
a fool as to believe it. He wanted to go with you; and then do you
know what would have happened if you and him had captured one of them
bugglars? Well, sir, he would have laid claim to the whole of the
reward, and never give you a cent of it. I'm onto his little games. And
he's going to make you hand over them three thousand dollars you made
yesterday. He's a mighty mean, stingy feller, pap is, and you want to
watch out for him."

Dan talked to keep up his courage, which began to ooze out of the ends
of his fingers when he found himself drawing near to the gorge; but Joe
was so deeply engrossed with his own thoughts that he did not hear a
dozen words of it.

The young game-warden was not building air-castles. He was by no means
as confident as Dan appeared to be, that it would be his luck to assist
in the capture of one of the robbers, and, if the truth must be told,
he hoped that that dangerous duty would fall to somebody else.

He had more money now than he had ever expected to possess, and his
brains were busy with plans for keeping it out of his father's reach.

While he was turning them over in his mind, they came within sight of
his cabin. Dan insisted on seeing the inside of it, so Joe pulled out
the loosened staple, and threw open the door.

"Ain't you mighty glad that you wasn't here when them robbers come up
and stole your grub and things?" said he, after he had taken a look
around. "Say, Joey, you'll keep old man Warren's rifle, to take the
place of the scatter-gun you lost, won't you?"

"Of course not," was Joe's indignant reply. "Why, Dan, this rifle is
worth forty or fifty dollars!"

"So much the better," answered Dan, who evidently thought that a fair
exchange with Mr. Warren could not by any means be looked upon in
the light of a robbery. "You lost your gun while you was working for
him, and through no fault of your'n, and I say he'd oughter give you
another. Them's my sentiments."

"Well, they are not mine," said Joe, closing the door, and replacing
the staple. "I wouldn't have the face to look at a man again if I
should ever mention the matter to him."

Dan did not know how to combat these sentiments, which were so widely
at variance with his own, and as there was no longer any necessity that
he should talk to keep his courage up, seeing that there was a large
number of officers and guides almost within the sound of their voices,
he said nothing.

A quarter of an hour's walk brought them to Tom's cabin, where they
found a score or more of men, who were leaning on their rifles, or
lounging around on the ground in various attitudes.

These, they afterward learned, comprised but a small portion of the
crowd that had assembled there that morning in obedience to the summons
of the sheriff and his deputy, the others having gone off in squads of
four men each to begin the search.

Mr. Warren told Joe that Tom Hallet was so impatient to be doing
something for his friend, that he had left with the first squad that
went out. He said, also, that a good many more men had gone, or were
going, out from Bellville and Hammondsport; so the capture of the
robbers was a foregone conclusion.

"By dividing into small parties we shall be able to give all the
ravines and every piece of woods in the country, for miles around, a
thorough overhauling before night," added Mr. Warren, "and we thought
that four men were enough for each squad. They won't care to have the
reward divided among too many, you know. I am going with the sheriff,
and shall be glad to have you make one of our party."

"And I shall be glad to do it," replied Joe.

As Mr. Warren walked away to speak to the officer, Dan pulled his
brother's coat-sleeve, and whispered:

"He didn't say that he'd be glad to have me make one of his party, did
he? Well, I'm going, all the same. Say, Joey, if our squad gobbles both
them bugglars, how much'll that be for each of us?"

"Twelve hundred and fifty dollars," was the reply.

"Well, now, sposen our squad catches one of 'em, and some other squad
away off somewheres else catches t'other one--how much will that be for
each feller?"

"A little over three hundred dollars."

"Is that all?" said Dan. And, to have heard him speak, you would have
thought that he was in the habit of carrying a good deal more money
than that loose in his pockets every day. "And you've got more'n three
thousand dollars a coming to you! Dog-gone such luck as I do have, any
way!"

It was probable that Dan had more to say on this point. He usually had
a good deal to say whenever he fell to talking about his bad luck; but
just then Mr. Warren beckoned to Joe, who promptly stepped forward to
join his squad, Dan keeping close to his heels.

"I wish I could think up some plan to get even with old man Warren
for the way he's acting," thought Dan, who was indignant because the
gentleman did not show him a little more respect. "I don't reckon he
wants me along, but I don't care whether he does or not. I'm here to
stay, no odds if there is five men instead of four in the party, and
if we catch them bugglars I'll make 'em hand over my share. That'll
be--lemme see."

After an infinite deal of trouble and much hard thinking, Dan arrived
at the conclusion that his share of the reward, if any were earned by
that squad, would be just one-fifth of five thousand dollars.

But Joe would come in for a share, also, and then he would have four
thousand dollars, while Dan would have but one. Did anybody ever hear
of such luck? Joe was ahead, and Dan didn't see any way to catch up
with him.

The sheriff's squad walked far and hunted faithfully all that day.
There was no thicket too dense for them to penetrate, and no gorge so
dark and gloomy that they were afraid to go down into it; but they saw
nothing of the robbers, and neither did they happen to come upon either
of the other searching parties.

They stopped for lunch on the banks of a trout brook, and the sheriff
was filling his pipe for a smoke, when all on a sudden he struck
a listening attitude, at the same time enjoining silence upon his
companions by a motion of his hand.

"That's two," said he, in a low voice. "Now wait. That's three. Now
wait a little longer, and perhaps we shall hear some gratifying news."

The others held their breath to listen, and presently, faint and far
off, and rendered somewhat indistinct by intervening hills, and by
the echoes that mixed themselves up with the sound, they heard three
reports of heavily-loaded shotguns.

"Hurrah for law and order," cried the sheriff. "Our work is half done,
and some lucky squad will have twenty-five hundred dollars to divide
among its members."

"We don't get none of it, do we?" whispered Dan to his brother.

"Did we have any hand in making the capture?" asked Joe, in reply. "Of
course, we don't."

"Dog-gone such luck!" murmured the disappointed Dan.

"One of the outlaws has come to grief," continued the sheriff, "and
that proves that they must have separated. I should much like to know
what they did with their prisoner. It seems to me, from where I stand,
that they were guilty of an act of folly when they gobbled Bob. They
ought to have known that by doing a thing of that kind, they would get
every able-bodied man in the country after them."

The officer and his squad were so anxious to have a hand in completing
the work so well begun, that they did not remain long in camp,
although they might have passed the rest of the day there for all the
good they did.

Every now and then they stopped to listen, but they never heard any
signals to indicate that the other robber had been apprehended. That,
however, was no sign that such signals had not been given; for the
Summerdale hills covered a good deal of territory, and the searching
parties were so widely scattered that it would have taken a field-piece
to signal to all of them.

Finally, the sheriff announced, with a good deal of reluctance, that it
was time to go home; and it was with equal reluctance that the members
of his squad turned their steps towards Tom Hallet's cabin.

It was almost dark when they came in sight of it, but still there was
light enough for Joe Morgan to see that the cabin had been visited
during their absence, and that there was a communication of some sort
awaiting them.

It was fastened to the door, and Joe ran ahead of the squad and
took it down. Then he found that it was not intended for any one in
particular, but had been left for the information of everybody who had
taken part in the search.

"Shall I read it, Mr. Warren?" asked Joe, when his employer came up.
"It is in Tom Hallet's own hand."

"Let us hear it at once," replied Mr. Warren.

And Joe read as follows:


    "Good and bad news.--Robber No. 1 was captured by Brierly's squad
    at half-past twelve. Bob Emerson is with me now, and none the worse
    for his adventure. That's the good news.

    "Nothing has been seen or heard of robber No. 2, who doubtless fled
    deeper into the hills than any of our searching parties had time
    to go. The Bellville and Hammondsport squads say they will try him
    again to-morrow. That's the bad news."


"And it isn't so very bad, either," said the sheriff. "If he gets lost,
as I hope he will, we'll have him to-morrow, sure; but if he works his
way out of the hills, we shall have to call upon the telegraph to help
us. So Brierly has made himself wealthy by this day's work. I should
think that he could afford to let your blue-headed birds alone, now,
Mr. Warren."

"Did any living person ever hear of such luck?" muttered Dan.
"Everybody is getting wealthy, 'cepting me."

The squad broke up here, Mr. Warren and two companions turning into the
cow-path that led down the mountain by the shortest route, and Joe and
Dan striking for home, where a most astonishing discovery awaited them.



CHAPTER XXXI.

SILAS IN LUCK AT LAST.


Dan Morgan did not have as much to say on the way home as he did while
he and his brother were passing over that same road in the morning.

Another one of his air-castles had fallen about his ears, and a portion
of the money he had hoped to earn would go into Brierly's pocket.

One of the robbers had been captured, but the other had taken himself
safely off, and that was the end of all his dreams. Did anybody ever
hear of such luck? It made him very angry to see how light-hearted Joe
seemed to be.

"I reckon you're glad 'cause I ain't got a cent to bless myself with,
ain't you?" said he, savagely. "Then, what do you keep up such a
whistling for? You can afford to be happy, when you know that you
can have a pile of money by asking for it; but I ain't a going to be
treated this here way no longer."

The young game-warden did not pay the least attention to his brother's
ravings, because he had something of more importance to think
about--his future.

He was sadly in need of such training as he could get at the Bellville
academy, and he had sense enough to know it; and the point he was
trying to decide was: Should he ask his employer to release him from
his contract, so that he could go to school during the winter? or would
it be better to make sure of the hundred and twenty dollars he could
earn during the next eight months, and look to Tom and Bob to help him
along with his studies?

While he was thinking about it, the cabin hove in sight, and at the
same time an exclamation from Dan called him back to earth again.

Joe looked up, and saw his father sitting motionless on a chair in
front of the cabin. His double-barrel lay upon the ground within easy
reach of him, his elbows were resting upon his knees, and his chin was
upheld by the palms of his hands. He appeared to be gazing steadily at
some object that was hidden from Joe's view by the corner of the house.

"How do you reckon he feels over the trick we played on him this
morning?" said Dan, with a grin. "He thinks he's a sharp one, pap does,
but he ain't got no business along of me."

"If there was any trick played upon him, you did it, and not I,"
answered Joe. "Father hasn't worked half as hard as we have, and yet he
is just as well--What in the name of wonder is that?"

While Joe was speaking, he and Dan moved around the corner of the
house, and then the object at which Silas was looking so fixedly was
disclosed to view.

It was a man who was sitting on a bench beside the door, and who was so
closely wrapped up in a clothes-line that he could scarcely stir one of
his fingers.

[Illustration: SILAS AND THE BANK ROBBER]

Hearing the sound of their footsteps, the man, whoever he was, slowly
turned his head toward the corner of the cabin, whereupon Silas
shouted out, in a savage voice:

"None of that there, I tell you! You can't get away, 'cause you're
worth a power of money to me, and I'm bound to hold fast to you
till--Human natur'!" yelled Silas, jumping to his feet, with both
barrels of his gun cocked. "Oh, it's you, is it? I kinder thought it
was t'other robber coming to turn his pardner loose."

Silas was so completely wrapped up in his own affairs that the boys
got close to him before he was aware of their presence, and it is the
greatest wonder in the world that he did not shoot one of them in his
excitement.

He was really alarmed; but when he had taken a good look at the
newcomers, in order to make sure of their identity, he laid his gun
across the chair, pushed up his sleeves, and shook both his fists at
Dan.

"So you thought you would fool your poor old pap this morning, did you,
you little snipe?" he shouted. "Well, you see what you made by it,
don't you?"

"I never tried to make a fool of you," stammered Dan, who had a faint
idea that he understood the situation. "I never in this wide world!"

"Hush your noise when I tell you I know better," yelled Silas; and one
would have thought, by the way he acted and looked, that he was very
angry, instead of very much delighted, at the way things had turned
out. "Here you have been and tramped all over them mountings, and
never got a cent for it, while I have made a clean twenty-five hundred
dollars, if I counted it up right on my fingers; and I reckon I did,
'cause your mam put in a figger to help me now and then."

"Why, how did it happen?" exclaimed Joe, who, up to this moment, had
not been able to do anything but stand still and look astonished.

He knew that his father had captured one of the robbers without help
from any one, and that was more than fifty other men had been able to
do, with all their weary tramping.

"The way it happened was just this," said Silas, who could not stand
in one place for a single moment. "Hold on there!" he added, turning
fiercely upon his prisoner, who just then moved uneasily upon the
bench, as if he were trying to find a softer spot to sit on. "I've got
my eyes onto you, and you might as--"

"Why, father, he can't get away," Joe interposed. "You've got him tied
up too tight. Why don't you let out that rope a little?"

"'Cause he's worth a pile of money--that's why!" exclaimed Silas; "and
I won't let the rope out not one inch, nuther. You, Joe, keep away from
there."

"I really wish you would undo some of this rope," said the prisoner,
who, like Byron's Corsair, seemed to be a mild-mannered man. "I have
been tied up ever since two o'clock, and am numb all over. I couldn't
run a step if I should try."

"Don't you believe a word of that!" exclaimed Silas. "Come away from
there and let that rope be, I tell you."

"Say, father," said Joe, suddenly, "what are you going to do with your
captive? Do you intend to sit up and watch him all night long?"

"I was just a studying about that when you come up and scared me,"
replied Silas, dropping the butt of his gun to the ground, and leaning
heavily upon the muzzle.

He never could stand alone for any length of time; he always wanted
something to support him.

"What do you think I had better do about it? I don't much like to keep
him here, 'cause--Why just look a here, Joey," added Silas, moving up
to the door, and pointing to some object inside the cabin. "See them
tools I took away from him?"

The boys stepped to their father's side, and saw lying upon the table,
where Silas had placed it, a belt containing a brace of heavy revolvers
and a murderous-looking knife.

"Now, them's dangerous," continued Silas, "and if this feller's pardner
should happen along--"

"But he won't happen along," interrupted Dan. "Brierly's squad gobbled
him."

The ferryman looked surprised, then disgusted, and finally he turned an
inquiring glance upon Joe, who said that Dan told the truth.

"You don't like it, do you?" said the latter to himself. "It sorter
hurts you to know that there is them in the world that are just as
lucky and smart as you be, don't it? Yes, that's what's the matter with
pap. He don't want no one else to be as well off as he is."

And when Dan said that, he hit the nail fairly on the head.

"The other robber is not in a condition to attempt a rescue," said Joe;
"but, all the same, I don't think you ought to keep this man here all
night. The sheriff is now at Mr. Warren's house, and it is your duty to
hand the prisoner over to him at once. Be careful how you point those
guns this way."

This last remark was called forth by an action on the part of Silas and
Dan that made Joe feel the least bit uncomfortable.

While the latter was talking, his hands were busy with the rope; and
when the prisoner arose from the bench and stamped his feet to set the
blood in circulation again, his excited and watchful guards at once
covered his head and Joe's with the muzzles of their guns.

"Turn those weapons the other way," repeated Joe, angrily. "You don't
think this man is foolish enough to try to run off while his hands are
tied, do you? Now, father, how did you happen to catch him?"

"It was just as easy as falling off a log," replied Silas, resuming his
seat and resting his double-barrel across his knees. "When you and Dan
went away this morning, I just naturally shouldered my gun, walked up
the road to the foot of the mounting, and set down on a log to wait for
game to come a running past me, just the same as if I was watching for
deer, you know."

This was all true; but there was one thing he did that he forgot to
mention. The only "game" Silas expected to see was Dan Morgan, when he
returned from the mountain at night, and the ferryman was prepared to
give him a warm reception. Before he devoted himself to the task of
holding down that log by the roadside, he took the trouble to cut a
long hickory switch, and to place it beside the log, out of sight. He
meant to give Dan such a thrashing that he would never play any more
tricks upon him.

"Well, about one o'clock, or a little after, while I was a setting
there and waiting for the game to come along, I heared a noise in the
brush, and, all on a sudden, out popped this feller. He was running
like he'd been sent for, and that's why I suspicioned him. Of course
I didn't know him from Adam, but I asked him would he stop a bit. And
he 'lowed he would, when he seed my gun looking him square in the eye.
I brung him home, and your mam she passed out the clothes-line, and I
tied him up."

"Where is mother now?" asked Joe.

"Gone off after more sewing, I reckon," replied Silas, in a tone which
seemed to say that it was a matter that was not worth talking about.
"She helped me figger up what I would get for catching him, and then
she dug out. I'm worth almost as much as you be now, Joey, and that
there mean Dan, who wouldn't stay by and help me, he ain't got a cent.
Now, don't you wish you hadn't played that trick on me this morning."

"Never mind that," interposed Joe, who did not care to stand by and
listen to an angry altercation which might end in a fight or a
foot-race between his father and Dan. "If we are going to deliver this
man to the sheriff to-night, we had better be moving."

"Do you reckon the sheriff will hand over the twenty-five hundred when
I give up the prisoner?" inquired Silas, as the party walked down the
bank toward the flat.

"Of course he won't."

"What for won't he?"

"Because he hasn't got it with him. Perhaps it was never put into his
hands at all. I haven't received my share yet."

"Then I reckon I'd best hold fast to him till I'm sure of my money,"
said Silas, reflectively. "I guess I won't take him down to old man
Warren's to-night."

"I guess you will, unless you want to get into trouble with the law,"
said Joe, decidedly. "If you don't give him up of your own free will,
the sheriff will take him away from you."

Silas protested that he couldn't see any sense in such a law as that,
but he lent his aid in pushing off the flat.

Dan, who was almost too angry to breathe, had more than half a mind
to stay at home; but his curiosity to hear and see all that was said
and done when the prisoner was turned over to the officers of the law
impelled him to think better of it. When the flat was shoved off, he
jumped in and picked up one of the oars.



CHAPTER XXXII.

BOB EMERSON'S STORY.


We have said that Tom Hallet was so anxious to help his unlucky friend
Bob in some way that he joined the very first squad that went out in
search of him.

The man who had the name of being the leader of it was the sheriff's
deputy; but the two stalwart young farmers who belonged to his party
were longer of limb than he was, and they pushed ahead at such a rate
that the deputy speedily fell to the rear, and stayed there during most
of the day.

"Me and Cyrus have come out to win that there reward," said one of the
young men, when Tom remonstrated with them for leaving the officer so
far behind, "and we can't do it by loafing along like that sheriff
does. We've got a mortgage to pay off on the farm, and we don't know
any easier way to raise the money for it than to capture one of them
rogues."

But this sanguine young fellow was not the only one who was destined
to have his trouble for his pains; and what made his disappointment
and his brother's harder to bear, was the reflection that if they had
left Tom's cabin half an hour earlier than they did, they might have
succeeded in earning a portion of the money of which they stood so much
in need.

They were not more than a quarter of a mile away, when Brierly's signal
guns announced that one of the robbers had been captured. They ran
forward at the top of their speed, hoping to reach the scene of action
before the arrest was fairly consummated, but in this they were also
disappointed.

When they came in sight of the successful party, they found the robber
securely bound, and Brierly wearing the belt that contained his weapons.

"Too late, boys!" exclaimed the guide, who was highly elated over his
good fortune. "You can't lay claim to any of our money, if that's what
brung you up here in such haste."

"We don't care for the money," panted Tom. "Where's Bob?"

"That's so," said Brierly, who had not bestowed a single thought upon
the prisoner during the whole forenoon. "Where is he? Say, feller, what
have you done with him?"

"I have not seen him for two hours," replied the prisoner. "As soon as
we found out that the hills were full of men, we set him at liberty,
and I suppose he made the best of his way home. We didn't want to keep
him with us, for fear that he would set up a yelp to show where we were
hiding."

Just then the deputy, who had been sitting on a log to recover his
breath, managed to inquire:

"What have you done with your partners?"

"There were only two of us, and the other man has gone off that way,"
answered the captive, nodding his head toward an indefinite point of
the compass.

Tom Hallet had no further interest in the hunt. He stood by and
watched the officer as he unbound the prisoner and substituted a pair
of handcuffs for the rope with which his arms had been confined, and
when Brierly's party started off with their captive, Tom fell in behind
them.

He went as straight to his cabin as he could go, and there he found Bob
Emerson, who was rummaging around in the hope of finding something to
eat.

"I haven't had a bite of anything since last night, and you'd better
believe that I am hungry," said Bob, after he and Tom had greeted each
other as though they had been separated for years. "But I am not a bit
of a hero. I haven't had an adventure worth the telling."

"There's nothing in there," said Tom, seeing that his friend was
casting longing eyes toward his game-bag. "I didn't take much of a
lunch with me, and I was hungry enough to eat it all. Can you stand it
till we get home?"

"I'll have to," replied Bob. "By-the-way, did you ever see that
before?"

As he spoke, he put his hand into his pocket and drew out a soiled and
crumpled letter, which looked as though it might have been through the
war.

It was the same precious document that he and Tom had left in Silas
Morgan's wood-pile.

"One of the robbers gave it to me last night," continued Bob, in reply
to his companion's inquiring look. "You will remember that Dan Morgan
lost the letter within a few feet of the log on which he sat when he
read it, and that when he and Silas went back to find it, they were
frightened away by something that dodged into the bushes, before they
could get a sight at it, and which they took to be a ghost. Well, it
wasn't a ghost at all, but one of the thieves, who had been to the
Beach after supplies. He found the letter and read it. Of course he
was greatly alarmed, and so was his companion; for they couldn't help
believing that some one had got wind of their hiding-place. They could
hardly believe me, when I told them that you and I made that letter up
out of the whole cloth, and that we never dreamed there was any one
living in the gorge."

"But we did know it," said Tom.

"Of course we did, after they frightened us, but not before. They spoke
about that, too. We took them completely by surprise the day we came
down the gorge. We were close upon their camp before they knew it,
and for a minute or two they didn't know what to do. Then one of them
conceived the idea of making that hideous noise, and when the other saw
how well it worked, he joined in with him."

"But didn't they know that we would be back sooner or later to look
into the matter?" asked Tom.

"Of course they did, and that was another thing that frightened them.
They saw very plainly that their hiding-place was broken up, and
were making preparations to leave it when Silas and Dan put in their
appearance. The robbers saw and heard them long before they got to the
camp, and the one who found the letter recognized them at once. It was
at his suggestion that that ghost was rigged up."

"But they must have known that they could not scare everybody with that
dummy," observed Tom.

"To be sure they did, and they were in a great hurry to get away from
there; but they needed provisions, and by stopping to get them they
fell into trouble. They took Joe Morgan's house for a woodchopper's
cabin and while we were robbing them, they were foraging on Joe. I tell
you, Tom, it's a lucky thing for us that we got out of that gorge when
we did. They were mad enough to shoot us on sight."

"I don't wonder at it," replied Tom. "It would make most anybody mad to
lose a hundred and fifty thousand dollars in money and securities, no
matter how he came by them. Where did they catch you? Did they treat
you well?"

"They treated me well enough," was Bob's reply, "but I believe that
if they had not stood in fear of immediate capture I should have a
different story to tell, if, indeed, I were able to tell any. I told
you nothing but the truth in the postscript I added to their note."

"I knew they made you write it, and that you did not express your
honest sentiments when you told us to be in a hurry about giving back
that valise."

"I was sure you would understand it; but what could a fellow do with a
cocked revolver flourished before his eyes by a man who was in just the
right humor to use it on him?"

"He would do as he is told, of course," answered Tom. "But do you
suppose they thought they could get that valise back by threatening
you?"

"I don't know what they thought, for they acted as if they were crazy.
They caught me in less than half an hour after I left you, and it was
through my own fault. I ran on to them before I knew it, and do you
imagine I thought 'robbers' once? As true as you live I didn't. I took
them for poachers, and told them, very politely, that these grounds
were posted and they couldn't be allowed to shoot there, when all on a
sudden it popped into my head what I was doing. They saw the start I
gave, and in a second more they had me covered. If I could have got
away without letting them see that I suspected them, they wouldn't have
said a word to me."

"Well, they covered you with their revolvers; then what?"

"Beyond a doubt, they made a prisoner of me before they thought what
they were doing, and when they came to look at it they found that they
had got an elephant on their hands. Then they would have been glad to
get rid of me; but they did not see just how they could do it with
safety to themselves, so they made up their minds to use me."

"At first they thought they would wait and see if anything would come
of the notice they left on the door of the cabin, and then they thought
they wouldn't--that they would hunt up another hiding-place as soon as
possible; so they ordered me to take them where nobody would ever think
of looking for them. And I could do nothing but obey."

"Were you acting as their guide when they released you?"

Bob replied that he was.

"Why didn't you veer around a bit, and lead them toward the railroad?"

"If I had I shouldn't be here now," answered Bob, significantly. "They
warned me to be careful about that, and they were so well acquainted
with the hills that I was afraid to attempt any tricks. We camped over
on Dungeon Brook last night, and set out again at an early hour this
morning, but before we had been in motion an hour, we found ourselves
cut off from the upper end of the hills, and that was the time they
made up their minds to let me go. They didn't say so, but still I had
an idea that they didn't want me around for fear I would make too much
noise to suit them."

"I know they were afraid of it," said Tom. "The robber that Brierly's
squad captured said so."

"Is one of them taken?" exclaimed Bob, who hadn't heard of it before.
"That's good news. Where's the other?"

"Don't know. They separated after they let you go, and Brierly captured
one of them. Perhaps we shall hear something about the other one now,"
added Tom, directing his companion's attention to a large party of men
who were at that moment discovered approaching the cabin. "We went out
in squads of four, and there are a dozen men in that crowd."

"But I don't see any prisoner among them," said Bob. "They have all
got guns on their shoulders, and that proves that they have not seen
anything of robber number two."

As the party came nearer, the boys saw that it was made up of citizens
of Bellville and Hammondsport, who had abandoned the search for the
day, and were now on their way home.

They were surprised to see Bob Emerson there, safe and sound, and
forthwith desired a full history of the letter which had been the means
of bringing about so remarkable a series of events.

Bob protested that he was too hungry to talk, but when he saw the
generous supply of bread and meat which one of the men drew from his
haversack, he sat down on a log in front of the cabin and told his
story.

His auditors declared that the way things had turned out was little
short of wonderful, adding, as they arose to go, that they were coming
out again, bright and early the next morning, to resume the search for
robber number two. They were not going to remain idle at home, they
said, as long as there were twenty-five hundred dollars running around
loose in the woods.

When the bread and meat were all gone, and the boys were once more
alone, Tom wrote the notice which Joe Morgan found pinned to the door
of the cabin, and then he and Bob set out for Uncle Hallet's.



CHAPTER XXXIII.

TURNING OVER A NEW LEAF.


Although Silas Morgan had received the most convincing proof that he
had nothing more to fear from the "hant" which had so long occupied all
his waking thoughts and disturbed his dreams at night, he would not
have taken one step toward Mr. Warren's house before morning, had he
not been urged on by the hope that the sheriff would be ready to pay
over his money as soon as the robber was given up to him. The desire to
handle the reward to which he was entitled was stronger than his fear
of the dark.

"And what shall I do with them twenty-five hundred after I get 'em,
Joey?" said he. "That's what's a bothering of me now."

And it was the very thing that was bothering Joe, also. His father
had always been in the habit of spending his money as fast as he got
it, and the boy fully expected to see this large sum slip through his
fingers without doing the least good to him or anybody else.

"I'll tell you what I _wouldn't_ do with it," said Joe, after a little
hesitation. "I wouldn't give Hobson any of it."

"You're right I won't!" exclaimed Silas. "He's got more'n his share
already. What be you going to do with yours, when you get it?"

"I think now that I shall put it in the bank at Hammondsport," answered
Joe. "It will be safe there, and if I am careful of it, it will last me
until I get through going to school. You don't want to go to school,
but you might go into business and increase your capital."

"That's it--that's it, Joey!" exclaimed Silas, who grew enthusiastic at
once. "I never thought of that. But what sort of business? It must be
something easy, 'cause I've worked hard enough already."

"Mr. Warren says that there is no easy way of making a living," began
Joe; but his father interrupted him with an exclamation of impatience.

"What does old man Warren know about it?" he demanded. "He never had to
do a hand's turn in his life."

"But he don't know what it is to be idle, and he is busy at something
every day," said Joe. "I'll tell you what I have often thought I would
do if I had a little money, and I may do it yet, if you don't decide
to go into it. The new road that is coming through here is bound to
bring a good many people to the Beach, sooner or later. As the trout
are nearly all gone, the guests will have to devote their attention to
the bass in the lake, and consequently there will be a big demand for
boats."

"So there will!" exclaimed Silas, who saw at once what Joe was trying
to get at. "That's the business I've been looking for, Joey, and it's
an easy one, too. Of course, I can let all my boats at so much an hour,
and I won't have nothing to do but sit on the beach and take in my
money."

"And what'll I be doing?" inquired Dan, who had not spoken before.

"You!" cried Silas, who seemed to have forgotten that Dan was one of
the party. "You will keep on chopping cord wood, to pay you for the
mean trick you played on me this morning. You see what you made by it,
don't you? I reckon you wish you'd stayed by me now, don't you? How
much will them boats cost me, Joey?"

"I should think that ten or a dozen skiffs would be enough to begin
with," answered Joe, "and they will cost you between three and four
hundred dollars; but you would have enough left to rent a piece of
ground of Mr. Warren and put up a snug little house on it."

"Then I'll be a gentlemen like the rest of 'em, won't I?" exclaimed
Silas, gleefully.

"No, you won't," said Dan, to himself. "That bridge ain't been built
yet, and I don't reckon Hobson means to have it there. He is going to
bust it up some way or 'nother, and I'm just the man to help him, if
he'll pay me for it. Everybody is getting rich 'cepting me, and I ain't
going to be treated this way no longer!"

Silas was so completely carried away by Joe's plan for making money
without work that he could think of nothing else. He forgot how
determined and vindictive Dan was, and how easy it would be for him to
place a multitude of obstacles in his way, but Joe didn't.

The latter knew well enough that Dan intended to make trouble if he
were left out in the cold, but what could be done for so lazy and
unreliable a fellow as he was? That was the question.

While Joe was turning it over in his mind, he led the way through Mr.
Warren's gate and up to the porch, where he found his employer sitting
in company with the sheriff and both Uncle Hallet's game wardens. The
deputy was in an upper room, keeping guard over the other prisoner.

Of course, Tom and Bob, who were greatly surprised as well as delighted
to see Joe and his party, wanted to know just how the capture of robber
number two had been brought about, and while Joe was telling the story,
the sheriff marched the captive into the house and turned him over to
his deputy.

Then he came back and sat down; but he did not put his hand into his
pocket and pull out the reward as Silas hoped he would.

"This has been a good day's work all around," said Tom, who was in high
spirits. "The next time there is any detective work to be done in this
county, Bob and I will volunteer to do it. We can catch more criminals
by sitting still and writing letters than the officers can by bringing
all their skill into play."

The sheriff laughed, and said that was the way the thing looked from
where he sat.

"The fun is all over now," continued Tom, "and to-morrow we will go to
work in earnest. You will be on hand, of course?"

Joe replied that he would.

"By-the-way," chimed in Bob, "did this robber of yours have a gun of
any description in his hands when he was captured?"

"No."

"Then, Joe, you and I are just that much out of pocket. The guns are
gone up."

"What has become of them?"

"They are out in the hills somewhere," answered Bob. "When the robbers
made up their minds that they had better let me go, one of them had my
gun and the other had yours; but the robber Brierly captured says that
the weapon impeded his flight, and so he threw it away. Whereabouts he
was in the hills when he got rid of it he can't tell. No doubt your gun
was thrown away also, and the chances are not one in a thousand that we
shall ever find them again."

While this conversation was going on, Silas Morgan, who stood at the
foot of the steps that led to the porch, kept pulling Joe by the
coat-sleeve, and whispering to him:

"Never mind the guns. Tell the sheriff that I'm powerful anxious to see
the color of them twenty-five hundred."

Joe paid no sort of attention to him, and finally Silas became so very
much in earnest in his endeavors to attract the boy's notice, that the
officer saw it; and when there was a little pause in the conversation,
he said carelessly:

"Oh, about the reward, Silas--"

"That's the idee," replied the ferryman, who thought sure that he
was going to get it now. "That's what I'm here for. You have got the
burglars in your own hands now, and I don't reckon you would mind
passing it over, would you?"

"I?" exclaimed the sheriff. "I haven't got it. I have never had a cent
of it in my possession."

"Then who's going to give it to me?" demanded Silas, who wondered if
the officer was going to cheat him out of his money.

"Well, you see, Silas," said the sheriff, "the reward is conditioned
upon the arrest and conviction of the burglars. They have been
arrested, and their conviction is only a matter of time; but you can't
get your money until they are sentenced."

"And how long will that be?"

"The court will sit again in about six weeks. As some of the money was
offered by the county, and the rest by the men who lost the jewelry and
things that were found in that valise, you will get your reward from
different parties, unless they hand it over to me to be paid to you in
a lump."

"That's the way I want it," said Silas, who was very much disappointed.
"I'm going into business."

"What sort of business?" inquired Mr. Warren.

"I am going to keep a boat-house down to the Beach."

"Well now, Silas, that's the most sensible thing I have heard from you
in a long time," said Mr. Warren. "I'll rent you a piece of ground big
enough for a garden, and you can set yourself up in business in good
shape, build a nice house, and have money left in the bank. If you
manage the thing rightly, you and Dan ought to make a good living of
it."

"Who said anything about Dan?" exclaimed Silas.

"I did. Of course, you can't ignore him, because you are wealthy.
He wants a chance to earn an honest living, and he needs it, too.
He's a strong boy, a first-rate hand with a boat, knows all the best
fishing-grounds on the lake, and would be just the fellow to send out
with a party who wanted a guide and boatman. You can easily afford to
pay him a dollar a day for such work as that."

"Well, I won't do it," said Silas, promptly. "He's a lazy,
good-for-nothing scamp, Dan is, and I won't take him into business
along with me."

"But you will hire him, and give him a chance to quit breaking the
game-law, and make an honest living," said the sheriff. "By-the-way,
Silas, I guess you had better bring up those setters, and save me the
trouble of going after them."

"What setters?" exclaimed Silas, who acted as if he were on the point
of taking to his heels. "I ain't got none. I took 'em down to the hotel
and give 'em up."

"I am glad to hear it, because it will save me some trouble," replied
the officer, "I have had my eyes on those dogs ever since you got hold
of them, and I should have been after them long ago, if I had known
where to find the owner. Don't do that again, Silas. Honesty is the
best policy, every day in the week."

"If you will leave your business in my hands I will attend to it for
you, and you will not have to go to Hammondsport at all," continued
Mr. Warren.

And Joe was glad to hear him say it, because it showed him that the
gentleman did not intend that his father should squander all his money,
if he could help it.

"It is too late in the season for you to do anything with your boats
this year, but I will give you and Dan a steady job at chopping wood,
and if you take care of the money you earn, instead of spending it at
Hobson's bar, you can live well during the winter. If the reward is not
paid over to you by the time spring opens, I will advance you enough to
start you in business and build your house. Then I think you had better
give Dan a chance."

"So do I," whispered Tom to his friend Bob. "Dan has lived by his wits
long enough, and if Silas doesn't begin to take some interest in him,
the sheriff will have a word or two to say about those setters. I can
see plainly enough that he intends to hold that affair over Silas as a
whip to make him behave himself."

"Do you think Silas will ever have the reward paid him in a lump?"
asked Bob.

"No, I don't, because he doesn't know enough to take care of so much
money. Joe can get his any time he wants it, for Mr. Warren knows that
he will make every cent of it count."

Then, aloud, Tom said:

"Well, Bob, seeing that we've got to get up in the morning, we had
better be going home. Come over bright and early, Joe, and we will take
your things back to your cabin."

"And I will send up another supply of provisions," said Mr. Warren.

Joe thanked his employer, bade him good-night, and led the way out of
the yard.

For a time he and his party walked along in silence, and then Silas,
who began to have a vague idea that he had been imposed upon in some
way, broke out fiercely:

"What did old man Warren mean by saying that if I didn't get all my
money by the time spring comes, he would advance enough to set me up
in business?" Silas almost shouted. "Looks to me like he'd 'p'inted
himself my guardeen, and that he means to keep a tight grip on them
twenty-five hundred, so't I can't spend it to suit myself. That's what
I think he means to do, dog-gone the luck!"

Joe thought so, too, and he was glad of it. If that was Mr. Warren's
intention, Joe's mother would be likely to reap some benefit from the
reward; otherwise, she would not.



CHAPTER XXXIV.

THE TRANSFORMATION.


Silas Morgan was one of the proudest men that the sun ever shone upon,
and he would have been supremely happy if it had not been for two
things, over which he could exercise no control.

One was that Mr. Warren and the sheriff intended to keep a sharp eye on
him, and see that he did not squander any of the money he had earned
by capturing the robber. The other was that Dan claimed recognition,
and was determined to have it, too, in spite of the mean trick he had
played upon his father.

When Silas arose the next morning the first thought that came into
his mind was that he was a rich man. It excited him to such a degree
that he could not eat any breakfast. He managed to drink a single cup
of coffee, and then shouldered his gun and set out for Hobson's,
to exhibit himself to the loafers who made the Half-way House their
headquarters, while Joe hastened off to Mr. Hallet's to assist Tom and
Bob.

Dan was left to pass the time as he pleased, and it suited him to sun
himself on the bank of the river and bemoan his hard luck.

The first man Silas saw as he drew near to Hobson's place of business
was Brierly, who dropped some hints that set him to thinking. After
congratulating Silas on his good fortune, he inquired what use he
intended to make of the reward when he got it.

"I ain't just made up my mind yet," was Silas Morgan's guarded reply.
"I don't reckon I'm going to get it right away, 'cause old man Warren
he's went and 'p'inted himself to be my guardeen, and I say that ain't
right. I ketched that there bugglar without no help from anybody. The
reward belongs to me, and I had oughter have it!"

To his utter astonishment Brierly promptly answered:

"No, you hadn't. You don't know how to take care of so much money,
more'n I do, and it's the properest thing that somebody should look
out for it. I tell you, Silas, I ain't the man I was when that Joe of
your'n ordered me out of old man's Warren's wood lot. Do you know what
I did the minute I got home yesterday? Well, I went down to the hotel
and give the landlord the twenty-five dollars that I had cheated Mr.
Brown out of. The landlord knows where he lives, and will send it to
him."

"Joe tells me that Mr. Brown was a mighty scared man after you lost him
in the woods," observed Silas.

"It was a mighty mean trick," declared Brierly; "but the fact of it was
I was hard up for money, and didn't care much how I got it. I think
different now. I've got a chance to be something better'n the lazy,
ragged vagabone I have always been, and I am going to keep it. I am,
for a fact! I have been waiting for it, and now that I have got it, I
intend to make the most of it. I think I shall let the heft of my money
stay where it is this winter, and get my grub and clothes by chopping
wood for old man Warren. You want to look out for Hobson. He's got an
eye on them dollars of your'n. He tried to shove lots of things onto me
this morning, but I wouldn't take 'em."

Silas Morgan never expected to hear such counsel as this from Brierly,
who, like himself, had always been in the habit of squandering his
slim earnings as fast as he could get hold of them, and it excited a
serious train of reflections in his mind. Being on his guard, Hobson's
blandishments had no effect upon him.

"You're the luckiest man I ever heard of!" exclaimed the proprietor of
the Half-way House, coming out from behind his counter and greeting
Silas with great cordiality. "Warren's hired man told the stage driver
all about it, and he told us. Want anything in my line this morning?"

"There's plenty of things I want," replied Silas; "but I ain't got a
cent of money."

"No matter for that. Your credit is good."

"And what's more, I don't reckon I can get any of that reward under six
weeks," continued Silas. "The court don't sit till then, you know,
and I won't see the color of them dollars till the bugglars gets their
sentence."

"But Joe's pay-day will come sooner than that," suggested Hobson.

"Well, now, look here," said Silas, slowly. "Don't you think it would
be mighty mean for a man who is worth twenty-five hundred dollars to
take the money his little boy makes by living up there alone in the
woods? I do. And I've about made up my mind that I won't do it."

"Didn't you tell me that you thought the head of the family ought to
have the handling of all the money that came into the house?" demanded
Hobson, who was really astonished to hear such sentiments as these come
from Silas Morgan.

"I did think so once, but I don't now," was the reply. "And furder'n
that, I don't reckon I'll get my money all in a lump, like I thought
I was going to, 'cause old man Warren he's gone and made himself my
guardeen; and if I run in debt now, I'll have to give you an order on
him for the money. Of course he would want to see the bill, and mebbe
he'd take particular notice of the items that's into it."

"Do you mean to let him boss you around in that way?" exclaimed Hobson.
"I thought you had more pluck than that. You are old enough to be your
own master, if you are ever going to be."

"Well," said Silas, again, "there's one thing that I ain't master of,
and I know it. That's money. Whenever I get a dollar bill in my hands,
it burns me so't I have to drop it somewheres. I reckon I won't touch
that reward this winter."

Hobson was so angry and disgusted that he could not say a word in
reply. He went around behind his counter, and when Silas turned to
go out, he informed him, in a savage tone of voice, that there was a
little difference of a dollar and a half between them, and he would be
glad to have him settle up then and there.

"Didn't I tell you when I first come in that I ain't got a cent to
bless myself with?" reminded Silas. "But me and Dan are going to
work for old man Warren this very afternoon, and I'll be around next
Saturday, sure pop."

"I'll bear that in mind," said Hobson. "If you are not on hand, I shall
ride down to your house to see what is the matter."

"That's always the way with them kind of fellows," said Brierly, in a
low tone. "As long as you've got plenty of money, and spend it free
with them, you're a first-rate chap; but the very minute you turn over
a new leaf, and try to be honest and sober, they ain't got no use for
you. I'm done with 'em."

Silas walked home in a brown study. The first thing he did after he
crossed the threshold of his humble abode was to put his gun in its
place over the door, and the second, to take an axe and whetstone out
of the chimney corner. With these in his hand, he went out on the bank
where Dan was still sunning himself.

"It's a long time since you seen this here little tool, ain't it?" said
Silas, cheerfully; but there was something in the tone of his voice
that made the boy tremble. "Looks kinder like it used to last winter,
don't it? Now, sharpen it up so't you can drive it clear in to the eye
every clip, and after dinner me and you will toddle down to old man
Warren's, and ask him where he wants us to cut that wood; won't we,
Dannie?"

"No, we won't," shouted Dan.

"Won't, eh?" said his father, calmly. "Well, them that don't work can't
eat, and a boy that won't help himself when he's got a chance, can't
get no dollar a day out of me when I go into that boat business. He
won't be worth it, and Mr. Warren will think so too, when he hears of
it. I reckon the best thing you can do is to put that there axe in
shape and be ready to go with your pap after dinner."

When he had taken time to think about it, Dan came to the same
conclusion. It cost him a struggle to do it, but when his father
shouldered his axe and set out for Mr. Warren's house, Dan went with
him.

The gentleman was glad to hear that Silas did not intend to remain idle
simply because he had twenty-five hundred dollars in prospect, gave
him some good advice, and told him where to go to cut the wood.

The road they followed to get to it took them close by the cabin of the
young game-warden, whom they found busily engaged in setting things to
rights.

Of course, it made Dan angry to see his brother surrounded by so many
comforts, and in a position to make his money so easily, but there was
no help for it.

His father was on Joe's side now; Dan could see that easily enough, and
an attempt on his part to annoy the young game-warden in any way would
bring upon him certain and speedy punishment.

After that, things went smoothly with Joe Morgan.

During that fall and winter Mr. Warren's imported game was never
interfered with, and the reason was because all the worst poachers
in the country, including Brierly and his gang, as well as Joe's own
father, had given up the precarious business of market-shooting.

More than that, when Silas paid his bill at Hobson's, which he did,
according to promise, he gave the loungers about the Halfway House to
understand that he had taken Joe under his protection, and that any one
who troubled either him or Mr. Warren's blue-headed birds, might expect
to answer to him for it.

As Silas Morgan's prowess in battle was well known to every body for
miles around, the market-shooters took him at his word, and kept away
from Mr. Warren's wood-lot.

The savage, half-starved dogs in the settlement which had become so
fond of hunting deer that they sometimes chased them on their own
responsibility, were either chained up or given away, and the only
hounds that gave tongue among the Summerdale hills during the winter
were those which, like Tom Hallet's beagle, were trained to hunt foxes
and coons.

While the pleasant weather continued, the young game-wardens searched
the woods thoroughly, in the hope of finding the guns that the
robbers had thrown away during their flight, but their efforts were
unrewarded, and finally the snows of winter came and covered them up.

One day, just before Christmas, Mr. Warren's hired man came up,
bringing, among other things, a few magazines and papers, a supply of
provisions for Joe's use, some grain for the birds, and a long, shallow
box which he placed carefully upon the table.

"Mr. Warren says that you will want to go home on Christmas, and
there's a little something for your folks to eat," said he, handing Joe
a nice fat turkey, all dressed and ready for the oven. "In that box you
will find a present from St. Nick. Look at it, and see if you ain't
glad you lost your rusty old single-barrel."

"I know what it is," replied Joe. "Is it mine to keep, or to use while
I am acting as game-warden?"

"It is yours to keep. It is intended to replace the one the robbers
stole from you."

The sight that met the boy's gaze when he unlocked the box made his
eyes open wide with wonder and delight. Inside, was a breech-loader,
with pistol-grip and all the necessary loading tools. Of course, it
was a fine weapon. Mr. Warren never did things by halves.

It was the first Christmas present Joe had ever received.

Contrary to Mrs. Morgan's expectations, there was not the least trouble
in the house over the young game-warden's money. She had enough and to
spare, and so had Silas and Dan.

The former worked faithfully, because his ambition had been aroused,
and Dan toiled steadily by his side, because he knew if he didn't, he
would lose the dollar a day he was looking forward to. He got it, too.

The robbers were duly convicted and sentenced, and, when spring came,
Silas had his twenty-five hundred dollars intact; or, to speak more
correctly, somebody had it for him.

Silas did not know just where it was, whether in Mr. Warren's hands
or the sheriff's, and indeed he did not care. All the bills he made
in buying his boat, building his new house and fencing the piece
of ground that Mr. Warren leased to him, were promptly met by that
gentleman, and Silas highly elated at the prospect of having a paying
business of his own, worked to such good purpose that when the guests
began to arrive he was ready to serve them.

For the first time in his life, Dan Morgan looked as "spick and span as
anybody" in his blue uniform, with a wide collar and sailor necktie,
all bought with his own money, too; and he often walked up and down in
front of the hotel to show himself to the people who were sitting on
the veranda.

He proved to be a good boatman, and easily earned the dollar a day his
father paid him for his services.

Joe held to his resolution, and entered the Bellville Academy when the
spring term opened. He is there now; and he often says that he likes
his school duties much better than those he was called on to perform
while he was acting as Mr. Warren's game-warden.


THE END.





*** End of this LibraryBlog Digital Book "The Young Game-Warden" ***

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