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                      THE LAUNCH BOYS SERIES

              The Launch Boys' Cruise In the Deerfoot

                        BY EDWARD S. ELLIS

    Author of "The Flying Boys Series," "Deerfoot Series," etc., etc.

    ILLUSTRATED BY
    BURTON DONNEL HUGHES

    THE JOHN C. WINSTON COMPANY
    PHILADELPHIA

    Copyright, 1912, by
    THE JOHN C. WINSTON COMPANY
    PRINTED IN U. S. A.

[Illustration: THE BIG SHIP WAS STILL COMING TOWARD HIM]

CONTENTS

    CHAPTER                                             PAGE

        I. BETWEEN TWO FIRES                               9

       II. LIVELY TIMES                                   19

      III. MIKE MURPHY                                    29

       IV. A LOAN TO CAPTAIN LANDON                       39

        V. A MOTOR BOAT                                   50

       VI. CAPTAIN AND CREW                               58

      VII. ONE AUGUST DAY                                 69

     VIII. A PASSING GLIMPSE                              81

       IX. NO MAN'S LAND                                  92

        X. THE LURE OF GOLD                              104

       XI. A MISSING MOTOR BOAT                          114

      XII. IN THE TELEGRAPH OFFICE                       125

     XIII. A SLIGHT MISTAKE                              136

      XIV. A FRIEND IN NEED                              145

       XV. A GLIMPSE OF SOMETHING                        156

      XVI. ON BARTER ISLAND                              166

     XVII. THE MAN IN GRAY                               176

    XVIII. AT THE INLET                                  186

      XIX. NOT NEAR EITHER BANK                          196

       XX. A DISAPPOINTMENT                              206

      XXI. A TELEGRAM                                    216

     XXII. FOUND                                         226

    XXIII. CAPTAIN AND MATE                              236

     XXIV. "THIS IS WHERE I STOP"                        247

      XXV. GOOD NEWS                                     257

     XXVI. DISQUIETING NEWS                              267

    XXVII. AN ALARMING FACT                              277

   XXVIII. THE CRY ACROSS THE WATERS                     287

     XXIX. MAROONED                                      296

      XXX. A NEW ENGLAND HOME COMING                     308

     XXXI. THE MAN IN GRAY                               319

The Launch Boys' Cruise in the Deerfoot

CHAPTER I

BETWEEN TWO FIRES

I once heard the bravest officer I ever knew declare that the height of
absurdity was for a person to boast that he did not know the meaning of
fear. "Such a man is either a fool or the truth is not in him," was the
terse expression of the gallant soldier.

Now it would have been hard to find a more courageous youth than Alvin
Landon, who had just entered his seventeenth year, and yet he admits
that on a certain soft moonlit night in summer he felt decidedly
"creepy," and I believe you and I would have felt the same in his
situation. He was walking homeward and had come to a stretch of pine
forest that was no more than an eighth of a mile in length. The road was
so direct that when you entered the wood you could see the opening at
the farther side, where you came again upon meadows and cultivated
fields. The highway was so broad that only a portion of it was shaded
and there was no excuse for one losing his way even when the moon and
stars failed to give light. All you had to do was to "keep in the middle
of the road" and plod straight on.

But when the orb of night rode high in the sky and the course was marked
as plainly as at midday, there was always the deep gloom on the right
and left, into which the keenest eye could not penetrate. A boy's
imagination was apt to people the obscurity with frightful creatures
crouching and waiting for a chance to pounce upon him.

Alvin was a student in a preparatory school on the Hudson, where he was
making ready for his admission to the United States Military Academy at
West Point. The appointment had been guaranteed his father, a wealthy
capitalist, by one of the Congressmen of his district, but nearly two
years had to pass before the lad would be old enough to become a cadet,
and pass the rigid mental and physical examination required of every one
enrolled in the most admirable military institution in the world.

On this mild August night he was going home from the little cove where
his motor boat nestled under the shed built for its protection. His chum
Chester Haynes, about his own age, lived within a hundred yards of the
shelter of the craft, so that it was always under his eye, when not
dashing up the Kennebec or some of its tributaries, or cruising over the
broad waters of Casco Bay. On their return from an all-day excursion,
they reached Chester's home so late that Alvin stayed to supper. It was
dark when he set out for his own home, a good half mile north, the last
part of the walk leading through the odorous pines of which I have made
mention.

The lad had no weapon, for he needed none. His father was opposed to
the too free use of firearms by boys and insisted that when a lad found
it necessary to carry a pistol for protection it was time for him to
stay within doors where no one could harm him.

The youth was impatient because of a certain nervousness which came to
him when he stepped into the pulseless gloom and saw far ahead the broad
silvery door opening into the open country beyond.

"About all the Indians in this part of the world," he mused, yielding to
a whimsical fancy, "are at Oldtown; the others are making baskets, bows
and arrows, moccasins and trinkets to sell to summer visitors. There
used to be bears and panthers and wolves and deer in Maine, but most of
them are in the upper part. I shouldn't dare to shoot a buck or moose if
he came plunging at me with antlers lowered, for it is the close season
and a fellow can't satisfy the wardens by saying he had to shoot in
self-defence. As for other kinds of wild animals, there's no use of
thinking of them.

"I should be ashamed to let Chester know I felt creepy to-night, when I
have been through these woods so often without a thought of anything
wrong. But it does seem to me that some sort of mischief is brooding in
the air----"

"_Tu-whit-tu-whoo-oo!_"

Alvin must have leaped a foot from the ground. He was sure he felt his
cap rise several inches above his crown, with still an upward tendency.
Then he softly laughed.

"Only a screech owl, but that hoot when you are not expecting it is
startling enough to make a fellow jump. It seems to me nature might have
given that bird a more cheerful voice, say like the thrush or
nightingale. Then it would be pleasant to listen to his music after
dark. I remember when I was a little codger and was coming home late one
night, near Crow's Nest, one of those things began hooting right over my
head and I didn't stop running till I tumbled through the gate. I think
I have a little more sense now than in those days."

It did not add to his peace of mind when he glanced behind him to see a
shadowy form coming toward him from the rear and keeping so close to the
line of obscurity on his right that only a flitting glimpse of him was
caught. Few situations are more nerve-racking than the discovery at
night of an unknown person dogging your footsteps. He may be a friend or
an enemy--more likely the latter--and you see only evil intent in his
stealthy pursuit.

But Alvin's good sense quieted his fears and he resumed his course,
still holding the middle of the road, alert and watchful.

"He can't mean any harm," he thought, "for every one in this part of the
country is a neighbor of the others. I shall be glad to have his company
and will lag so that he will soon overtake me--hello!"

It was at this juncture that two ghost-like figures suddenly whisked
across the road in front. They seemed to be in a hurry and acted as if
they wished to escape observation--though why they should feel thus was
more than Alvin could guess. It dawned upon him that he was between two
fires.

"It's queer that so many strangers are abroad to-night, though they have
as much right to tramp through the country as I."

At the time of learning the rather disquieting fact, young Landon had
gone two-thirds of the way through the wood, so that the couple in front
were near the open country. Striving to convince himself that he had no
cause for misgiving, he still felt uneasy as he moved stealthily
forward. He gave no thought to the one behind, for it was easy to avoid
him. His interest centered upon the two in front, with whom he was quite
sure to come in contact. They were no longer in sight, but whether they
were walking in the broad ribbon of shadow at the side of the highway,
or awaiting his approach, was impossible to tell.

He stopped and listened. The one dismal hoot of the owl seemed to have
satisfied the bird, which remained silent. The straining ear failed to
catch the slightest footfall. Recalling the feathery dust upon which he
was stepping, Alvin knew that no one could hear his footfalls.

For the first time, he now left the band of illumination, moving into
the darkness on his left. There he could be invisible to every one not
less than four or five paces away.

"If they don't wish me to see them, there's no reason why they should
see me," was the thought which impelled him. Gradually he slackened his
pace until he stood still. Then with all his senses keyed to a high
tension he did some hard thinking. Despite his ridicule of his own
fears, he could not shake off the suspicion that mischief was brooding
over him. The two men in front and the third at the rear belonged to the
same party.

"They mean to rob me," muttered Alvin, compressing his lips.

The belief seemed reasonable, for he was worthy of the attention of one
or more yeggmen. He carried a gold watch, the gift of his father, a
valuable pin in his scarf, a present from his mother, and always had a
generous amount of money with him. Many a youth in his situation would
have meekly surrendered his property upon the demand of a company of
criminals against whom it was impossible to prevail, but our young
friend was made of sterner stuff. He would not yield so long as he could
fight, and his bosom burned with righteous anger at the thought that
such an outrage was possible in these later days.

All the same, he was too sensible to invite a physical encounter so long
as there was a good chance of avoiding it. The wisest thing to do was to
step noiselessly in among the pines at his side, pick his way for a few
rods, and then wait for the danger to pass; or he could continue to
steal forward, shaping his course so as to reach the open country, so
far to one side of the highway that no one would see him.

You will smile when I tell you why Alvin Landon did not follow this
plan.

"They may suspect what I'm doing and sneak along the edge of the wood to
catch me as I come out. Then I'll have to run for it, and I'll be hanged
if I'll run from all the yeggmen in the State of Maine!"

He listened intensely, not stirring a muscle for several minutes. Once
he fancied he heard a faint rustling a little way behind him, but it
might have been a falling leaf. At the front the silence was like that
of the tomb.

"They're waiting for me. Very well!"

Instead of keeping within the darkness, he stepped back into the middle
of the road and strode forward with his usual pace. He did not carry so
much as a cane or broken limb with which to defend himself. All at once
he began whistling that popular college air, "When I saw Sweet Nellie
Home." He would not admit to himself that it was because he felt the
slightest fear, but somehow or other, the music seemed to take the place
of a companion. He began to suspect that it might not be so bad after
all for a frightened lad thus to cheer himself when picking his course
through a dark reach of woods.

"At any rate it can't tell them where I am, for all of them already know
it," was his conclusion.

CHAPTER II

LIVELY TIMES

As Alvin Landon drew near the open country he gave his thoughts wholly
to the two strangers in front, ceasing to look back or listen for the
one at the rear. The keen eyes strove to penetrate the silent gloom on
his right and left, but they saw nothing. Probably fifty feet intervened
between him and the full flood of moonlight, when, with more startling
effect than that caused by the hooting of the owl, a sepulchral voice
sounded through the stillness:

"_Hold on there, pard!_"

It was purely instinctive on the part of the youth that he made a bound
forward and dashed off on a dead run. Not until he burst into the bright
illumination did he awaken to the fact that he was doing the very
opposite of what he intended and actually playing the coward. The fact
that his natural courage had come back was proved at the same moment of
his abrupt stoppage, for the sharp report of a pistol rang out from
directly behind him. The space was so short that it was evident the shot
had been fired not to harm him, but to check his flight.

At the moment of halting, he whirled around and saw a youth who could
have been no older than himself charging impetuously upon him. Alvin's
halt was so instant and so unexpected on the part of his pursuer that
they would have collided but for the fugitive's fist, which shot out and
landed with full force upon the face of the other. Alvin knew how to
strike hard, and the energy which he threw into the effort was
intensified by the swift approach of his assailant.

No blow could have been more effective. With a grunt, his foe tumbled
headlong, flapped over on his back and lay as if dead. Had he been the
only enemy, the combat would have ended then and there, for never was an
antagonist knocked out more emphatically, but his companion now dashed
into the fray.

He was somewhat older than the one who had come to grief, but still
lacked full maturity. Too cautious to make the mistake of the other, he
checked himself while just beyond the fist that had done such admirable
work. With an oath he shouted:

"I'll teach you how to kill my pal."

"I don't need any teaching; come on and I'll serve you the same way,"
replied Alvin, eager for the attack to be made.

His opponent came on. He had learned from the rashness of his partner,
for after putting up his hands, like a professional pugilist, he began
feinting and circling about Alvin, in the search for an inviting
opening. The latter did not forget the instruction he had received from
Professor Donovan and stood on his guard, equally vigilant for an
advantage.

The elder had made a complete circle about Alvin, who turned as on a
pivot to meet his attack, and was just quick enough to parry the vicious
blow launched at him, but not quick enough to counter effectively. The
next instant the fist of the taller fellow came in contact with the
chest of Alvin, who was driven back several paces. His foe attempted to
follow it up, but was staggered by a facer delivered straight and true.
Then our young friend in turn pressed the other, who, bewildered by the
rapidity and fierceness of the assault, made a rush to clinch.

Nothing could have suited Alvin better and he met the effort with a
storm of furious blows. The chief one was aimed at the chin, and had it
landed the result would have been a knockout, but it was a trifle short.
Determined not to be denied, Alvin pressed on with all the power at his
command. "Keep cool and strike straight," was the motto of his
instructor at the gymnasium, and though he was enraged he heeded the
wise advice.

Nearly a score of blows were exchanged with such rapidity that a
spectator could not have kept track of them, and then Alvin "got there."
The thud was followed by an almost complete somersault of the victim.
The master was prompted to push his success by attacking his enemy
before he could rise, but another law flashed upon Alvin. "Never strike
a man when he is down," a chivalrous policy when the rules of the game
govern both contestants. It was doubtful whether Alvin would have
received similar consideration had the situation been reversed, but he
could not feel sure of that until the proof was given. He therefore
calmly waited for the other to rise, when he would be upon him like a
tiger.

A minute or two passed before the fallen one recovered enough to begin
climbing to his feet. He could have risen sooner, but deceived his
conqueror by feigning weakness and fumbled aimlessly about as if too
groggy to get his bearings. But he was helping in a treacherous trick.

As Alvin stood, his back was toward the first miscreant, who recovered
from his stupor while his companion still lay on the ground. Our young
friend gave no thought to the one, whom he believed to be out of the
affair altogether.

The same young man, however, gave quick thought to him. Bounding to his
feet he sneaked up unseen and struck a blow that drove Alvin forward so
violently that he had to make a leap over the second assailant to avoid
falling upon him. It was a wonder that he was not struck down senseless.
As it was, he was partially stunned, but rallied in a flash.

Now it would have been sensible and no disgrace to the heroic lad, when
he found himself confronted by two muscular and enraged youths, to dash
at full speed for home. But he did nothing of the kind.

"Come on, both of you!" he called out. "I'm not afraid and you haven't
got me yet!"

It would be a pleasure to record that our young friend defeated the
couple, but such a triumph in the nature of things was impossible.
Either of them would have given him all he could do, and the two united
were sure to overcome him. With his stubborn resolve to have it out with
them he must have suffered but for an unexpected turn of events.

You remember that a third stranger was approaching from the other
direction. In the hurricane rush of the fight, Alvin forgot about him,
but he now arrived and threw himself with a vengeance into the affray.
His bursting upon the scene convinced the lone defender that the time
had come to show his ability as a sprinter. While quite ready to oppose
two, he knew he could not stand up against three. Before he started,
however, he saw with a thrill that the new arrival had attacked with
unrestrainable fierceness the one who had just struck Alvin. In other
words, instead of being an enemy he was a much-needed ally.

This stranger did not utter a word at first, but attended strictly to
business, and that he was a master of it was proved by his first blow,
which sent the fellow staggering backward finally falling with his heels
kicking toward the orb of night. There was no thought of chivalry on the
part of the conquerer, who landed again as he was climbing to his feet.

"Let up!" protested the victim. "Do you want to kill a fellow?"

"Begorrah, ye guessed it right the fust time!" was the reply of the
friend, who turned to Alvin:

"If ye'll smash that spalpeen I'll be attending to the same wid this
one."

The slight diversion was enough to give the dazed victim on the ground
time to come to his feet, when he turned and was off like a deer in the
direction whence had come his conqueror. Determined not to be despoiled
of his victory, the Irish lad--as his accent showed him to be--pursued
at the highest bent of speed. But his short legs were not equal to the
task, and the terrified assailant made such excellent time that a few
minutes sufficed to carry him beyond all danger. The "broth of a boy"
would not give up at first. The two held their places in the middle of
the highway, so that both were in plain sight, with the fugitive
steadily drawing away.

"Howld on, ye spalpeen!" shouted the pursuer. "I'm not through wid ye!"

But he who fled was glad enough to be through with the business, and
kept up his desperate flight until the other ceased and turned back to
learn how matters were going with the friend to whose aid he had
rushed.

A somewhat similar story was to be told of the second miscreant, who had
seized the chance to take to flight in the opposite direction. In this
case, the fleet footed Alvin proved the superior in speed and within a
hundred yards overtook him. The moment he was within reach he let drive
and his fist landed in the back of the other's neck. Inasmuch as he was
going at his highest speed and the blow sent his head and shoulders
forward with additional swiftness, the inevitable result was that he
fell, his face plowing the dirt and his hat flying a dozen feet from
him.

Before he could rise, Alvin was upon him. The fellow threw up his hands
to protect his countenance and whined:

"Please don't hit me again! I'm half killed now!"

The cringing appeal changed Alvin's indignation to disgusted pity. He
unclenched his fingers and dropped his hands.

"Get up! I won't hit you, though you deserve it."

His victim seemed to be in doubt and slowly came to his feet still
whining:

"We didn't know it was you; it was a mistake."

"It does look that way," was the grim comment of Alvin. "Get up, I say;
you have nothing to fear from me."

The fellow was in doubt. He slowly rose, but the instant he stood erect,
he was off again as if propelled from a catapult. Alvin, instead of
pursuing and overtaking him, stood still and laughed.

"Come back and get your hat!" he shouted, but the fugitive did not abate
his speed and made the dust fly until he vanished in the moonlight.

Yielding to an impulse, Alvin walked to where the headgear lay and
picked it up. It was a valuable chip hat, such as is fashionable in
summer in all parts of the country. The captor was wondering whether it
contained the fellow's name. The moonlight was not strong enough for him
to see distinctly, and, bringing out his rubber safe from his hip
pocket, he struck a match to aid in the scrutiny.

MIKE MURPHY

Holding the tiny flicker of flame in the hollow of the hat, Alvin saw in
fancy gilt letters, pasted on the silk lining, the following:

"NOXON O"

"That's a queer name," he reflected. "I never heard anything like it."

"Do ye know ye're holding the same upside down?"

The Irish lad, panting from his exertion in running, stood grinning at
Alvin's elbow. "'Spose ye turns the hat round so as to revarse the
same."

Alvin did so and then read "O NOXON."

"It's the oddest name I ever saw, for 'NOXON' reads the same upside down
and backwards--Ugh!"

Seized with a sudden loathing, he sent the hat skimming a dozen feet
away. His feeling was as if he had grasped a serpent. Then he turned
and impulsively offered his hand to the Irish lad.

"Shake! You were a friend in need."

"It's mesilf that's under deep obligations to yersilf."

"How do you make that out?"

"Didn't ye give me the finest chance for a shindy that I've had since I
lift Tipperary? I haven't had so much fun since Pat Geoghaghan almost
whaled the life out of me at home."

"Who are you?"

"Mike Murphy, at your sarvice."

And the grinning lad lifted his straw hat and bowed with the grace of a
crusader.

"Where do you live?"

"Up the road a wee bit, wid me father and mither."

"Are you the son of Pat Murphy?" asked the astonished Alvin.

"He has the honor, according to his own story, of being me dad."

"Why, he's father's caretaker. I remember he told me some time ago that
he had a boy seventeen years old that he had sent word to in Ireland to
come over and join him. And you are he! Why, I'm so glad I should like
to shake hands with you again."

"I'm nothing loath, but I say that hat ye threw away is more of the
fashion in this part of the wurruld than in Tipperary, and if ye have no
objections I'll make a trade."

And the Irish lad walked to where the headgear lay, picked it up and
pulled it on his crown.

"It's a parfect fit--as the tramp said when he bounced around the kind
leddy's yard--don't I look swaat in the same?"

Alvin could not help laughing outright, for the hat was at least a size
too small for the proud new owner, and perched on his crown made his
appearance more comical than it had been formed by nature.

"I knew ye would be plased, as me uncle said when the docther towld him
he would be able to handle his shillaleh inside of a waak and meet his
engagement with Dennis O'Shaugnessey at Donnybrook fair. Me dad tached
me always to be honest."

To prove which Mike laid down his battered straw hat beside the road,
where the seeker of the better headgear would have no trouble in
finding it. "And if it's all the same, Alvin, we'll adjourn to our home,
for I'm so hungry I could ate me own grandmither."

"How did you know my name?" asked the surprised Alvin.

"Arrah, now, hasn't me dad and mither been writing me since they moved
into this part of the wurruld and spaking of yersilf? It was yer telling
me that me dad was your dad's caretaker that towld the rist. Ef I had
known it was yersilf I would have hit that spalpeen harder."

"You did well as it was. But I say, Mike, when did you arrive in Maine?"

"Only three days since. Having had directions from me dad, as soon as I
got ashore in New York I made fur the railway station, where I wint to
slaap in the cars and woke up in Portland. Thar I had time to ate
breakfast and ride in the train to Bath, where I meant to board the
steamboat _Gardiner_. I had half a minute to sprint down the hill to the
wharf, but the time was up before I got there and the men pulled in the
plank when I was twinty faat away. I'm told the Captain niver tarries
ten seconds for anybody."

"That's true," replied Alvin, "for I have seen him steam away when by
waiting half a minute he would have gained five or six passengers."

"So I had to tarry for the other steamer, which lift me off at
Southport, and I walked the rist of the way to the home of me parents. I
mind dad towld me the same was four or five miles, but I think it was
six hundred full. I found me parents yesterday."

"I remember now that your father said he expected you about this time,
but it had slipped my mind, and having been away all day I had no chance
to learn of your coming. But I can tell you, Mike, I'm mighty glad to
know you."

"The same to yersilf," was the hearty response of the Irish lad. In
fact, considering the circumstances in which the two met, to say nothing
of their congenial dispositions, nothing was more natural than that they
should form a strong liking for each other. They walked side by side,
sometimes in the dusty road or over the well-marked path on the right or
left, and talking of everything that came into their minds.

"How was it you happened to be passing over this road to-night when I
found myself in so great need of you?" asked Alvin.

"Me dad sint me this noon down to Cape Newagen to inquire for some
letters he didn't ixpect, and then to keep on to Squirrel Island and buy
him a pound of 'bacca and to be sure to walk all the way and be back in
time for supper, which I much fear me I sha'n't be able to do."

"How did you make out?" asked the amused Alvin.

"As well as might be ixpected," gravely replied Mike, "being there ain't
any store at Cape Newagen and I should have to walk under water for near
two miles or swim to Squirrel Island, barring the fact that I can't swim
a stroke to save me life."

"What did your father mean by sending you on such a fool errand?"

Mike chuckled.

"It was a joke on me. I've tried to break him of the habit, but he can't
help indulging in the same whin he gits the chance. He was so glad to
have me wid him that he found an excuse for whaling me afore last night
and then played this trick on me."

"Didn't your mother tell you better?"

"Arrah, but she's worse nor him; she said I would enj'y the walk and I
may say I did though I couldn't extind the same as far as they had
planned for me. Can you suggist something I kin do, Alvin, by the which
I can git aven wid the owld folks fur the fun they've had wid me?"

"I am not able to think of anything just now."

"Ah, I have it!" broke in the Irish youth, snapping his fingers. "It has
been the rule all me life that whin I got into a fight I must report the
whole sarcumstances of the same to dad. If I licked the other chap, it
was all right and he or mither give me an extra pratie at dinner, but if
I was bested, then dad made himself tired using his strap over me back
and legs. He's in high favor of me exercising my fists on others, but
never will agraa that I don't do a hanus wrong when I git licked. 'It's
such a bad habit,' he explains, that it's his dooty to whale it out of
me."

"What has your fight to-night to do with playing a joke on him?"

"Why, don't you see that I'll make him think fur a time that it was
mesilf that was knocked skyhigh, and after he's lambasted me till he
can't do so any more, and I kin hardly stand, you and me will tell him
the truth."

"Where will be the joke in that? It seems to me it will be wholly on
you."

"Don't ye observe that he and mither will feel so bad whin they find how
they have aboosed me that they'll give me two praties instid of one and
then I'll have the laugh on them."

"It takes an Irishman or Irish boy to think up such a joke as that," was
the comment of Alvin, as the two just then came in sight of the small
log structure in which Pat Murphy and his wife made their home, while a
light twinkled beyond from the windows of the larger building, where
Alvin lived with his parents during the summer. A half mile to the south
toward Cape Newagen was the more moderate dwelling, during the sultry
season, of Chester Haynes, his chum from whom he had parted an hour or
two previous to making the acquaintance of Mike Murphy. As they drew
near the structure, Mike stepped in front and opened the door, with
Alvin at his heels. Within, sat the father calmly smoking his pipe,
while his tall, muscular but pleasant-faced wife by the table in the
middle of the room with spectacles on her nose was busily sewing. The
light was acetylene, furnished from the same source that supplied the
large bungalow only a few paces distant.

"Good evening, Pat, and the top of the evening to you, Mrs. Murphy. You
see I have brought Mike safely home to you."

Alvin was a favorite with the couple, who warmly greeted him. The boy
was fond of calling at the humble dwelling and chatting with the two.
Sometimes he took a meal with them, insisting that the food was much
better than was provided by the professional chef in his own home. No
surer means of reaching the heart of the honest woman could have been
thought of, and though she insisted that the lad had kissed the blarney
stone, she was none the less pleased by his kind words.

"Mither, I'm that near starved," said Mike, dropping into the nearest
chair, "that I should perish if I had a dozen more paces to walk."

"Yer supper has been waiting for more than an hour, and if ye'll pass
into the kitchen ye may eat your fill."

Mike took a step in the direction, but was halted by his father.

"Where is the 'bacca I ordered ye to bring from Squirrel Island?"

"They're out of the kind ye smoke, dad, and that which the storekeeper
showed me was that poor I wouldn't have anything to do wid the same."

"And the litters at Cape Newagen?"

"They're expicting the one from King George that ye were looking fur,
but it won't be in until the next steamer."

CHAPTER IV

A LOAN TO CAPTAIN LANDON

The elder Murphy looked at his son with a quizzical expression and then
glanced at the hat which had been hung on a peg behind the door.

"And where did ye get that?"

"Traded me owld one for it, but I had to go through a foight before the
ither chap would give his consint."

The father's face brightened.

"So ye've been in anither foight, have ye, and only well landed in
Ameriky."

"I niver had a foiner one," replied the son, still standing in the open
door which led to the kitchen; "it makes me heart glad when I think of
the same."

"And which licked?"

Mike was quick to seize the opportunity for which he was waiting. With a
downcast expression, he humbly asked:

"Do ye expict me to win _ivery_ time, dad?"

"Av coorse I do; haven't I trained ye up to that shtyle of fightin'?"

"Suppose, dad, the ither chap is bigger and stronger--what do ye ixpict
of me?"

"Ye know yoursilf what to expict when ye disgraces the name of Murphy."

Laying his pipe on the table beside which his wife was sitting, the
parent grimly rose and moved toward the door on the other side of the
room that opened into the small apartment where the firewood was stored
from wetting by rain. The three knew the meaning of the movement: he was
seeking the heavy strap that was looped over a big spike. He had brought
it from Tipperary two years before and must have kept it against the
coming of his heir, knowing he would have use for it.

"Have done wid yer supper," he said to Mike, "and after the same, I'll
do me dooty by ye."

The grinning lad was still standing in the kitchen door. The action of
his father turned his back toward the youth, who winked at Alvin,
stepped across the threshold and sat down at the end of the table where
he was in sight, but the greater portion of the table itself was hidden.

Although the moonlight had given the visitor a good view of his young
friend, the glow of the lamp now showed his face and features with the
distinctness of midday. Alvin was sure he had never seen so homely a
youth. The countenance was broad and covered with so many freckles that
they showed on the tips of his large ears. The nose was an emphatic pug,
and the mouth wide and filled with large white teeth, upon which no
dentist could have found a pin speck. His short hair was the color of a
well burned brick, stood straight up from the crown and projected like
quills from the sides of his head, his complexion being of the same hue
as the hair.

Although of stocky build, being hardly as tall as Alvin, the frame of
the Irish youth was a model of strength and grace. There were few of his
age who in a rough and tumble bout could hold their own with him. The
night being sultry, he wore no coat or waistcoat, but the shirt,
guiltless of tie, was clean, as were the trousers supported by a belt
encircling the sturdy waist. His dusty tan shoes were neatly tied and
the yellow socks which matched them could not have been less soiled.

The best "feature" about Mike Murphy was his good nature. His spirits
were irrepressible, and he was always ready with quip and wit. Looking
into the broad shining face one was reminded of the remark made about
Abraham Lincoln: he was so homely that he crossed the line and became
handsome.

Alvin's chair being near the front door with Mike in plain sight, he
kept his eyes upon him for a minute or two. He saw him reach his fork
across the table and bring a huge baked potato to his plate. He twisted
it apart in the middle so as to expose the flaky whiteness and then
snapped the fingers of both hands at his sides. With a grin he looked at
Alvin and asked:

"Do ye know what's the hottest thing in the wurruld?"

"How about a live coal of fire?"

"Arrah, now, it's the inside of a baked pratie; a coal of fire is a
cooling breeze alongside the same. Be the same towken, can ye tell me
the cowldest thing on airth?"

"A piece of ice will do very well."

"Ye're off: it's the handle of a pitchfork on a frosty mornin'; if ye
don't belave it try the expirimint for yersilf. But I must attind to
plaisure, as me cousin said whin he grabbed his shillaleh and attacked
his loved brother."

Mike now gave his whole attention to the meal. When it is remembered
that he was ravenously hungry and the provision bountiful, enough is
said. His father came back into the sitting room, tossed the heavy strap
on the stand, beside which his wife was still serenely sewing, picked up
his pipe and by sucking vigorously upon it renewed the fire that had
nearly gone out. He crossed his legs and slowly rocked to and fro,
glancing hospitably at Alvin.

While the latter was greatly amused by what he had seen and heard, he
was also distressed for his friend Mike, whose idea of a joke was
unique. There could be no mistaking the meaning of his father's
actions. The son was due for a sharp castigation and was certain to
receive it unless the caller interposed with a truthful statement of the
recent occurrence.

Alvin rose from his chair and stepping to the kitchen door, gently
closed it. Mrs. Murphy looked up through her spectacles.

"I don't wonder that ye wants to shet out the noise Mike makes whin
aiting, fur the same is scand'lous."

"It isn't that, but I don't wish him to hear what I say to you."

"Shall I tell him to hold a finger of aich hand in his ears while he's
aiting?" asked the mother without a smile.

"He might find that inconvenient. Mike told you the truth when he said
he was in a fight to-night."

"I don't doubt the same, but I demands to know why he 'lowed himself to
git licked?" said the father, with no little heat.

"He wasn't licked: it was the other fellow who got the worst of it."

"Why, thin, did the spalpeen say it was himself that was bested?"

"Begging your pardon, Pat, he did not. He stated a general truth, which
no one can deny, to the effect that a fellow like him takes a chance of
being defeated now and then. Listen to my story."

Thereupon Alvin related the incidents with which you are familiar,
adding:

"If it hadn't been for Mike's arrival and his brave fight in my behalf,
I should have been badly beaten and robbed. The first wretch even fired
a pistol during the rumpus."

"Did he kill aither of ye?" asked the startled father.

"The shot was not aimed at me or him, but was meant to scare me into
stopping and giving up. If I had thought of it I should have taken the
weapon from him and given it to Mike. Let me tell you," added Alvin
impressively, "both of you ought to be proud of such a son as Mike."

"So we are," quietly remarked the mother, without looking up or checking
her flying needle.

"There isn't a pluckier lad in the world. He came to my help like a
whirlwind, and the way he sailed into the fellow who struck me from
behind showed Mike to be a hero."

The father reached out and grasped the loop of leather lying on the
stand. Rising to his feet he passed into the small room where the stove
wood was piled and hung the strap again upon the metal peg. As he came
back and resumed his seat he sighed. It looked as if he was
disappointed.

"What do you intend to do with him, Pat?"

"Train him up in the way he should go. Whin the school opens at
Southport he will attind there, and whin he's at home I'll find enough
to kaap him out of mischief."

"School will not open until September, which is several weeks away. I
want you to lend Mike to me until then."

Mrs. Murphy stopped her sewing for the moment and looked at their
visitor. Her husband removed the pipe from his mouth and also stared at
him.

"Lind him to ye!" he repeated. "And phwat would you do wid him?"

"You know father bought me a motor boat, which arrived a few days ago.
Chester Haynes and I have had great fun cruising up the Kennebec and
different bays and streams, and we are going to keep at it until we have
to go home. We want Mike to join us and share our sport, just as long as
Chester and I are in this part of the world. You won't refuse me the
favor?"

It was evident that the parents were pleased with the request. The proud
mother said:

"Mike is so gintle that he'll be a good companion for anyone."

"Yis; because of his gintleness," repeated the father grimly. "But it
saams to me ye're too kind, Alvin; he won't be able to airn his kaap and
the indulgence ye'll give him."

"Won't earn them! Why, we don't intend to hire him; it's the pleasure we
shall have in the company of such a good fellow as Mike. Besides," added
Alvin, lowering his voice, "I have a feeling that we're not through with
those two fellows who attacked me to-night. Mike won't be satisfied
until he has paid the one who ran away from him and left his hat
behind."

"Ye're wilcome to the lad," assented his father, "and I take it as very
good on yer part, which is what ivery one has a right to ixpict from
yersilf and father."

"No blarneying, Pat," protested their caller. "I am obliged to you for
granting my request, for the favor will be wholly given to us."

"Now it's yersilf that's blarneying," said Pat.

The kitchen door softly opened and the grinning, red-faced Mike came
into the room and sat down near his young friend.

"I overheerd ivery word that was said, Captain, and it's Mike Murphy
that's thankful for yer kindness. I'm wid ye to the ind."

The others laughed at the use of the title by the Irish youth, who
explained:

"Av coorse it's 'Captain Landon,' being that ye're the owner of the
motor boat, as ye calls the same."

"And you shall be my first mate," said Alvin.

"Won't Chister, as ye name him, be jealous and indulge in mootiny?"

"No fear of that; we'll satisfy him by making him second mate, while all
three will form the crew. And now I must bid you good night. I shall
call for you as soon as we are through breakfast to-morrow morning."

With which our young friend went to his own home.

CHAPTER V

A MOTOR BOAT

The first time you stepped aboard a motor boat you were impressed by the
looks of the engine and the numerous appliances which when rightly
handled drive the craft through the water at the rate of ten, fifteen,
twenty and sometimes more miles an hour. You thought it would be hard to
learn to manage the boat and know how to overcome the different kinds of
trouble that are almost certain to arise. But the task, after all, is
simple and with patience you can soon master it.

In the first place let us find out the principle which governs the
smooth, swift progress of the structure. I shall be as brief and pointed
as possible.

As a foundation, we need a good supply of clean, strained gasoline in
the tank. Unless the fluid is free from all impurities it is likely to
clog and interfere with the working of the machinery. The tank is so
placed that its elevation is sufficient to cause the gasoline to flow by
gravity through the pipe, which is connected by an automatic valve with
the carburettor, admitting just enough to answer the purpose desired. As
the gasoline is sprayed into the carburettor a quantity of air is drawn
in from the outside. The two mingle and form a highly explosive gas. To
start, you give the fly-wheel a rapid swing, which causes the piston to
move downward. This action sucks the gaseous mixture into the cylinder
through the inlet valve. The further movement of the fly-wheel causes
the piston to move upward, compressing the gas into small volume. While
the gas is thus compressed it is exploded by means of an electric spark.
The violent expansion of the burning gas drives the piston downward with
great force. The movement opens the exhaust valve, the burnt gases
escape through the exhaust pipe and the fresh mixture is drawn in again
to be compressed and exploded as before. If the engine has more than one
cylinder the same process is repeated in each one. This is the
operation which is continued so long as the supply of gasoline holds
out.

In the steam engine the vapor acts alternately on each side of the
piston head, but in motor boats and automobiles it acts only on one
side. The speed with which this is done is amazing and the same may be
said of the steam engine.

The swift rise and fall of the piston acting through the connecting rod
turns the shaft directly below, which whirls the screw around at the
stern. The electric spark that explodes the vapor is generated by a dry
battery or by a magneto-electric machine driven by the motor itself.
There is also the "make and break" spark, to which we need give no
attention. The two ends of the wires in the spark plug which is screwed
into the cylinder are separated by a space barely the twentieth part of
an inch, across which the spark leaps, giving out an intensely hot
flash.

You understand, of course, that I have given simply the principle and
method of operation of the engine belonging to a motor boat. There are
many parts that must operate smoothly and with the minimum of friction.
Lubricating oil is as essential as gasoline; the ignition battery must
be kept dry; you must know how to operate the reversing lever, to shut
off, to start and to hold the desired speed. Except when racing or under
some pressing necessity, the swiftest progress is rarely attained, for
it is trying to all parts of the engine and consumes a good deal of
fuel, which cannot be bought for a trifling price.

You would be confused by any attempt on my part to give a technical
description of all the motor appliances, nor is there need to do so. If
you have just bought a motor boat, you will be taught how to control and
manage it by a practical instructor, and such instruction is better than
pages of directions. To show the truth of what I have just said, I will
quote a single paragraph from the description of the boat concerning
which I shall have a good deal to say in the course of my story.

"The keel is of white oak, with specially bent elm frames. Planking of
selected Laguna mahogany, finished thickness one-half inch, in narrow
strakes and uniform seams, secured to frames by copper boat nails,
riveted over copper washers, all fastenings being of bronze or copper to
withstand salt water. Seams of hull caulked with special cotton payed
and puttied. Outside of mahogany planking, finished in natural wood with
spar varnish. Watertight bulkheads fore and aft which assist in floating
the launch in case of accident. Decks and interior woodwork finished in
selected Laguna mahogany. Steam bent quartered oak or mahogany coaming
extending around cockpit."

Alvin Landon's launch was thirty-five feet long, with six-cylinder,
sixty-horse power motor and a guaranteed speed of twenty-four miles an
hour. The motor was placed under the forward deck, where it was fully
protected by a hinged metal deck. To become somewhat technical again let
me proceed:

All the valves were placed on the same side, the camshaft (operating
the valves) as well as the pump shaft being mounted on ball bearings.
The crankcase was of tough aluminum alloy, and lubrication was well
provided for, being kept at a constant level in the crankcase by a
geared oil pump. A gear-driven pump circulated the necessary cooling
water for the cylinders, which passed out through the copper exhaust
pipe at the stern. Only one operating lever was employed and that was
placed directly at the helmsman's left hand. The gasoline tank contained
fifty gallons and was under the after deck with a pan below it for
safety's sake, draining overboard. The propeller wheel and shaft were of
bronze.

Alvin's motor boat, thus partially described, included the necessary
deck hardware, "such as brass chocks and cleats, flag pole sockets and
flag poles, ventilators to engine compartment, rubber matting for floor,
cushions and upholstered backs for seats, three sailing lights, oars,
rowlocks and sockets, compressed air whistle with tank, two pairs of
cork fenders, bell, foghorn, boat hook and portable bilge pump, six
life preservers (as required by the U. S. Government), a twenty-pound
folding anchor and a hundred feet of strong manila rope."

We must not forget the glass wind-shield. Passengers and crew were
always guarded against flying spray and sweep of wind and rain. Nothing
that forethought could provide for the safety and comfort of all was
forgotten.

Suppose young Captain Landon stepped on board the _Deerfoot_ with the
intention of starting out on a cruise. He would first turn on the switch
which controls the electric current for the jump spark, open the valve
that allows the gasoline to flow from the tank into the carburettor,
swing around the fly-wheel and then assume charge of the lever and
steering gear. But lo! the engine refuses to respond. There is no
motion. What is the cause?

There may be a dozen of them. In the first place, the battery may be
worn out; there may be a lack of compression due to leaky valves;
perhaps, after all, he forgot to place the switch key in position; the
spark plugs may be fouled or cracked, the gasoline shut off, the gas
mixture imperfect, no gasoline in the tank, water in the cylinder caused
by a leak from the water jacket, or water in the gasoline.

It may be that when the launch has covered a good many miles the engine
suddenly stops. The cause may be faulty ignition, because of a
disconnected wire or a loose terminal, exhaustion of the gasoline, or
derangement of the magneto, or poor carburettor adjustment.

But I have said enough to give you an idea of what the expert handler of
a motor boat must understand. It may seem almost a hopeless task, but,
as I stated at the beginning of this chapter, patience and application
will enable you to overcome all difficulties and make the handling of
the craft an unalloyed pleasure.

CHAPTER VI

CAPTAIN AND CREW

When the elder Landon received a report from the principal of the
military school on the Hudson to the effect that Alvin led all his
classmates in their studies and had not once been brought under
discipline, he was glad to fulfil the promise made months before, and
bought him a handsome motor launch, the selection of which was left to
the youth himself. The craft was shipped to Portland, Maine, there set
afloat in the capacious bay and sped northeastward for forty miles or
so, to the bungalow which the banker had erected a year before on
Southport Island. The retreat was to be used by him and his family as a
restful refuge from the feverish work which kept him in New York most of
the year, with occasional flying trips to the great cities in the West
or as far as the Pacific coast.

One condition the parent insisted upon: Alvin was not to run the launch
alone until an expert pronounced him qualified to do so. Thus it was
that when the boat headed up Casco Bay, Captain Abe Daboll, from the
factory, was aboard and directed things. He had overseen the
construction of the launch and knew all about it from stem to stern. He
was there under engagement to deliver it to the bungalow, or rather as
near as he could approach the building, and to remain and instruct Alvin
in every point necessary for him to know.

Several facts joined to make the youth an apt pupil. He was naturally
bright and was intensely interested in all that related to motor boats.
While awaiting the completion of his launch, he read and studied many
catalogues, circulars and books relating to such craft, and rode in a
number. He asked questions and studied the working of the machinery and
handling of the launch until his instructor looked at him in wonderment.

"I never saw your equal," he said admiringly; "by and by you will be
answering _my_ questions and telling _me_ how to run things."

The smiling youth knew this was exaggeration, for something new seemed
to be turning up continually, and there were turns where he thought he
knew the way, only to find when put to the test that he was totally
ignorant. But as I said, he learned fast and after a week's stay at the
home of Mr. Landon, during every day of which--excepting Sunday--the two
went on a cruise with Alvin at the helm, the man said that nothing more
remained for him to show his pupil. This remark followed a stormy day
when the launch went far south beyond Damariscove Island and was caught
in a rough sea.

"It was the real test," said the expert to the banker. "I never raised
my hand or made a suggestion when we were plunging through the big seas,
for neither was necessary. You needn't be afraid to trust yourself with
him anywhere and in any weather."

Now that I am through with my rather lengthy, but perhaps necessary
introduction, let us proceed with the story I have set out to tell.

On the morning following the battle of Alvin with his assailants, and
his pleasing meeting with Mike Murphy, the youth called at the home of
the Irish lad, carrying in his hand a yachting cap in addition to the
one he wore on his own head. Across the front were the gilt letters
_Deerfoot_.

"I bought an extra one when I had my suit made," he explained, "and it
looks to me as if it will fit you. A straw hat isn't handy to wear when
sailing, even though you may loop the string around its band into your
button hole. If the season was not so far along, I should order a
yachting suit for you, Mike. You know a mate ought to be in uniform. But
we shall have to wait till next summer."

The grinning lad gingerly took the white cap in hand, turned it about
and then pulled it over his crown. He was in front of his own home, and
his father as he smoked his pipe looked on, the mother being out of
sight within the house. The headgear fitted perfectly.

"It's a pity to waste such fine wear on the hid of so ugly looking a
spalpeen," remarked the father; "in trooth it ill becomes him."

"How can ye have the heart to blame me, dad, that I was born wid such a
close resimblance to yersilf that if we was the same age mither couldn't
till us apart?"

The parent was about to reply to this personal remark, but ignored his
offspring and spoke to Alvin.

"Ye have a foine day for a sail, Captain."

"It is perfect."

"And Chister Haynes goes wid yes?"

"We are partners all the way through and he's expecting me."

"The sicond mate hasn't the honor of an acquaintance with the first
mate, but it won't take us long to larn aich ither's ways," said Mike,
bubbling over with high spirits and the promise of a day of rare
enjoyment. "The mate hasn't the right to make suggistions to the
captain, but if he had he would venture to obsarve that he is wasting
vallyble time talking wid a gentleman who can't tell a gasoline launch
from a lobster pot----"

"Be the same token he can till a lobster when he sees him," exclaimed
the parent in pretended wrath, making a dive for his son, who eluded him
by darting into the highway. Alvin waved a good-by to Pat and the youths
hurried away, anxious to be out on the water.

While following the road toward the home of Chester Haynes, Mike took
off his cap and admiringly surveyed it. He noted the patent leather
visor, the gilt buttons to which the chin strap was attached, and then
spelled out the name on the front.

"I 'spose that is what your boat is called, Captain?" he remarked
inquiringly.

"Yes; you know it's the fashion for sailors on a man-of-war thus to show
the name of the ship to which they belong."

"But why didn't the sign painter git the word roight?"

"What do you mean, Mike? Isn't that the correct way to spell
'_Deerfoot_'?"

"I 'spose the first part might go, as me uncle obsarved whin the front
of his shanty fell down, but the rear is wrong."

"You mean 'foot.' What is wrong about it?"

"The same should be 'fut': that's the way we spell it in Ireland."

"We have a different method here," gravely remarked Alvin.

"And if I may ask, Captain, where did you git the name from?"

"Have you ever read about Deerfoot the Shawanoe? He was such a wonderful
young Indian that I guess he never lived. But Chester and I became fond
of him, and when Chester thought it would be a good idea to name the
boat for him I was glad to do so."

"Deerfut the Shenanigan," repeated Mike. "Where can I maat the
gintleman?"

"Oh, he's been dead these many years,--long before you or I was born."

"Wurrah, wurrah, what a pity!" and Mike sighed as if from regret. "Are
you sure that isn't him that's coming up the road?"

A youth of about the age of Alvin, but of lighter build, and dressed
like him in yachting costume, came into sight around a slight bend in
the highway.

"That's Chester; he's so anxious to take advantage of this beautiful day
that he has come to meet us, though he might have used the boat for part
of the way since he is well able to handle it."

A few minutes later Chester and Mike were introduced. No one could help
being pleased with the good-natured Irish youth, and the two warmly
shook hands.

"Mike did me such a fine service last night that I must tell you about
it," remarked Alvin as the three walked southward.

"Arrah, now, ye make me blush," protested Mike, "as I said whin they
crowned me Queen of May in the owld counthry."

Alvin, however, related the whole story and you may be sure it lost none
in the narration. Mike insisted that the Captain had done a great deal
more than he to bring about a glorious victory.

"I believe every word Alvin has told me," was the comment of Chester;
"and I am proud to have you with us as a friend."

"Such being the case," added Alvin, "I have as a slight token of my
appreciation, made Mike my first mate, with you as second, and all three
as the crew of the _Deerfoot_."

"There couldn't be a finer appointment," assented Chester. "I suppose,
Mate Murphy, you know all about sailing a boat?"

"I larned the trade in the owld counthry, by sailing me mither's old
shoe in a tub of water; I 'spose the same is all that is nicessary."

"That is sufficient, but," and the manner of Chester was grave, "you two
make light of what is a pretty serious matter. That attack upon you was
a crime that ought to be punished."

"I'm thinking it _has_ been," said Mike; "I belave the rapscallions are
of the same mind."

"No doubt they meant to rob you."

"And would have succeeded but for Mike. We never saw them before, have
no idea who they are, or how they came to be in this part of Maine, nor
where they have gone."

"Would you know either if you met him by day?"

"I am not sure, though the moonlight gave me a pretty fair view. It
wasn't a time for a calm inspection."

"I'm sure I would know the chap that I had the run in wid," said Mike.

"How?"

"By his black eye and smashed nose."

"They might help. They were dressed well, but I can't understand what
caused them to visit Southport and to lie in wait for me."

"Have there been any burglaries or robberies in the neighborhood?"

"None, so far as I have heard. You know there have been a number of post
office robberies among the towns to the north, but it can't be that
those two fellows have had anything to do with them."

"Probably not, and yet it is not impossible. I often wonder why there
are not more crimes of that kind at the seaside and mountain resorts,
where there are so many opportunities offered. The couple you ran
against may belong to some gang who have decided to change their field
of operations."

"If so we shall soon hear of them again."

"Arrah, now, if we could only maat them agin!" sighed the wistful Mike.
"It would make me young once more."

CHAPTER VII

ONE AUGUST DAY

"Well, here we are!"

It was Captain Alvin Landon who uttered the exclamation as the three
came to a halt on the shore at the point nearest the moorings of the
gasoline launch _Deerfoot_, left there the night before.

She made a pretty picture, with her graceful lines, shining varnish,
polished brass work and cleanliness everywhere. The steersman in the
cockpit was guarded by a wind-shield of thick glass. At the stern
floated a flag displaying an anchor surrounded by a circle of stars with
the stripes as shown in our national emblem. At the bow flew a burgee or
small swallow-tailed flag of blue upon which was the word _Deerfoot_ in
gold. The bunting was always taken in when the boat lay up for the
night, but in daytime and in clear weather it was displayed on the
launch.

Not only could one sleep with some comfort on such a craft by using the
convertible seats, but food could be prepared on an oil stove. In
cruising, however, among the numerous islands and bays, it was so easy
to go ashore for an excellent meal that Captain Landon followed the
rule.

The water was so deep close to land that the three easily sprang aboard,
the Captain being last in order to cast off the line that held the boat
in place. It was the first time that Mike Murphy had ever placed foot on
a craft of that nature. While Chester hustled about, Alvin quickly
joining him, he gaped around in silent amazement. He felt that in his
ignorance of everything the best course for him was to do nothing
without the advice of his young friends. He sank down gingerly on one of
the seats and watched them.

He saw the Captain thrust the switch plug into place, though with no
idea of what he meant by doing so, while Chester took a peep into the
gasoline tank in the stern. Then Alvin opened the hinged deck which
covered the big six cylinder motor, climbed forward to the fly-wheel,
and swung it back and forth until it circled over. Instantly there
followed a smooth whirr, and he closed the forward deck over the motor
and took his seat behind the wind-shield where he grasped the wheel
which, as on an automobile, controlled the steering gear. The control
lever, as has been stated, was on his left. Alvin pushed this forward
until the clutch took hold, and with a churning of the screw at the
stern the boat moved ahead and quickly attained a good degree of speed.
The wind was so slight that the surface of the water was scarcely
rippled, and no motion could be felt except the vibration of the
powerful engine.

The bow and stern lines having been neatly coiled down and everything
being adjusted, with Captain Alvin seated and loosely grasping the
steering wheel, the two mates took their places behind him, prepared to
enjoy the outing to the full. Youth, high health, with every surrounding
circumstance favorable--what can bring more happiness to a human being?
They come to us only once and let us make the most of them.

"Is it permitted to spake to the man at the wheel?" called Mike to the
Captain, who, looking over his shoulder, nodded his head.

"So long as you speak good sense."

"Which the same is what I does always; why couldn't ye take a run over
to Ireland this morning, now that ye are headed that way?"

"It's worth thinking about, but we shall have to wait till another time.
Better become acquainted with a part of the Maine coast first."

The launch was speeding to the northeast in the direction of Squirrel
Island, which has long been one of the most popular of summer resorts.
This beautiful spot is not quite a mile long and has a varied scenery
that surprises every one who visits the place. The deep water around the
wharf is as clear as crystal, so that at high tide one can look down and
see clearly the rocky bottom twenty feet below. The coast abounds with
prodigious rocks tumbled together by some stupendous convulsion of
nature and against which the waves dash with amazing power during a
storm, and throw the spray high in air and far inland. There are shady
woods of balsam and fir where one may stroll in the cool twilight over
the velvet carpet, meandering along the bewitching "Lover's Walk," with
which nearly every section is provided, or threading his way through the
dense bushes which brush him lovingly as he follows the faintly marked
paths. Overhead, when the crow sentinels catch sight of him, they caw
their warnings to their comrades. There are shadowy glens, gaping
fissures, whose corresponding faces show that at some remote age they
were split apart by a terrific upheaval, a gray barn with its threshing
machine and air of quiet country life, rows of neat cottages, a little
white wooden church, perched like a rooster gathering himself and about
to crow and flap his wings, the Casino, smooth, grassy slopes, and at
the northern end of the island, the roomy Squirrel Inn, crowded with
visitors attracted by the cool and bracing air, from the opening to the
close of summer.

Our young friends had no intention of calling there, but, circling to
the westward of the island, headed for Boothbay Harbor nestling three
miles to the northward. A number of girls loitering on the broad porch
of the hotel and a group playing tennis waved their handkerchiefs; the
young Captain answered with a tooting of his whistle, and Mike Murphy
rising to his feet swung his cap over his head.

To the right stretched Linekin Bay, to the head of Linekin Neck, beyond
which courses the Damariscotta River, bristling with islets, picturesque
and beautiful beyond compare. Captain Landon turned slightly to the
left, still heading with unabated speed for Boothbay Harbor. He saw
coming toward him a little steamer from whose bow the water spread in a
foaming wake. It was the craft which makes regular trips between
Boothbay Harbor and Squirrel Island through the summer season, stopping
at other places when passengers wish it. One of these is Spruce Point,
where little parties often go ashore over the rickety dock, and,
striking into the shady woods, follow the winding path along the rocky
coast known as the "Indian Trail," for more than two miles, when, after
passing Mount Pisgah and crossing a long bridge, they find themselves in
the town of which I have spoken.

As the two boats rapidly approached, passing within a short distance of
each other, the head and shoulders of the captain of the _Nellie G._
showed in the pilot-house. He was a tall, handsome man with dark
whiskers, who, when saluted by the _Deerfoot_, reached up and pulled the
whistle cord of his own craft. Every one knows Captain Williams of
Bowdoinham and is glad to see him turn an honest penny each summer. His
boat, one of the prettiest in those waters, had been built wholly by
himself, and the name painted in big letters on the front of the
wheelhouse is that of his wife.

To the left and almost touching Southport is Capitol Island, a little
nearer, Burnt, and then Mouse, all as picturesque as they can be. The
pathway arched with trees completely shades the sloping walk that leads
to the hotel on Mouse Island. A government light on Burnt Island throws
out its warning rays at momentary intervals through the night. When fog
settles down, the light gives place to a tolling bell.

Entering the broad harbor, our friends saw a score or more of vessels
grouped around at anchor, or moored at the wharves. There was a
magnificent yacht, the property of a multimillionaire of national
reputation; another luxurious craft, the representative of a Boston
club, a five-masted schooner, veteran ships, two of which had voyaged
from the other side of the world, a decayed and rotting hull near the
long bridge, where it tipped a little to one side in the mud, and was
wholly under water when the tide was in, as it had been for years. An
excursion steamer from Bath was just arriving, while others were taking
on passengers for some of the towns not far off.

Alvin, having slowed down by lessening the amount of gas admitted to
the cylinders with the throttle lever on the wheel, rounded to at one of
the floats, where a man who had noted his approach caught the loop of
rope tossed to him and slipped it over the mooring pile set in place for
that purpose. The steersman pulled the control lever back to the
vertical position, releasing the propeller shaft from connection with
the motor. A further pull backward threw in the reverse gear, and the
launch came to rest beside the float and the lever was returned to the
vertical position.

"I'll look after it while you are gone," he said and Alvin nodded.
Captain and crew then attended to stopping the motor by turning the
switch to the "off" position, putting out fenders to avoid scratching,
making bow and stern lines fast to deck cleats and putting everything in
shipshape order.

The three then climbed the steps to the upper level, passed the
storehouses and ascended the moderate hill to the principal street of
the well-known town of Boothbay Harbor. There was little that was
noteworthy in the rather long avenue, lined with the usual stores, a
bank and amusement hall and a number of pretty residences, and I should
make no reference to it except for an incident that befell the visitors.

Having gone to the end of the street, that is, until the eastern
terminal gave way to the open country, they turned about to retrace
their steps to the boat, for it was much more pleasant to be skimming
over the water. The temperature at Boothbay Harbor is generally five or
ten degrees higher than at Squirrel Island.

The three sauntered along, pausing now and then to look into the store
windows, admiring the displays of Indian trinkets offered for sale, and
approached the corner where they were to turn down the hill to the
wharf. At that moment they saw a man of dark complexion, with a big
mustache, and accompanied by a large lad, both in yachting costume, come
out of Hodgdon's store, which is devoted to the sale of hats, caps,
boots, shoes, clothing and other necessities. The two took the opposite
course, following the main street in the direction of the ball grounds.

Neither Alvin nor Chester did more than glance at the couple, for there
was nothing unusual in their appearance, but Mike started.

"Did ye obsarve thim?" he asked, lowering his voice.

"Yes; but there are plenty others on the street that are as
interesting."

"Come wid me," whispered Mike, "say nothing."

He whisked into the store, his wondering companions at his heels. They
left the situation to him.

"Will ye oblige me by saying whither the two that has just passed out
bought anything of ye?" asked Mike of the rotund, smiling clerk, who,
hesitating a moment, answered:

"The younger one bought a yachting cap, or rather traded one for his old
straw hat, for which I allowed him a nickel, which is all it's worth and
more too, I'm beginning to think."

He held up the dilapidated headgear which he caught up from under the
counter.

"Do ye recognize the same?" asked Mike, in a whisper of Alvin.

"Can it be possible!" exclaimed the young Captain.

"It's the identycal hat I wore last night whin we had our ilegant
shindy!"

CHAPTER VIII

A PASSING GLIMPSE

Mike Murphy, even in the flurry of the moment, could not forget his
innate courtesy. He handed back the old hat to the puzzled clerk and
bowed.

"I thank ye very much for yer kindness, and now, lads, come wid me."

He hurried out of the door, the two following closely.

"What do you mean to do?" asked Alvin.

"Folly the chap and finish the shindy I started wid him," replied the
Irish lad, staring in the direction taken by the couple. "Ye can luk on
and kaap back the man, so that I'll git fair play wid the ither."

"You are not on the Southport road, Mike," warned Alvin, "and you will
be arrested before you can land a blow and probably locked up."

"It'll be worth it," replied the other, scenting the battle like a war
horse. "Bad luck to it! where is the spalpeen?"

The three were looking keenly up the street, but, brief as was the
interval, the couple had vanished.

There are a number of lesser streets which lead inland at right angles
to the main avenue of Boothbay Harbor, and almost as many that are mere
alleys on the other side, through which one may pass to the different
wharves. It will be seen, therefore, that there was nothing strange in
the disappearance of the strangers in whom our friends were so much
interested.

"They can't have gone fur," exclaimed the impatient Mike, hesitating for
the moment as to what was best to do, and feeling the value of every
passing minute and fearing lest the opportunity be lost.

"They must have come in a boat," suggested Chester, "and have turned
down one of the by-streets to the water. But what is the purpose of
chasing them?"

"So we may catch 'em," was the reply of Mike, who feeling there was a
possibility that they might have turned the other way, addressed
Chester:

"Cross to the ither side of the main street and hurry by the corners,
looking up aich as ye do so; if they've turned that way, they're still
in sight."

There was sense in the plan. Chester ran across the avenue and walked
rapidly, glancing up each opening as he came to it. He meant merely to
keep the couple in sight until he could learn something more of them. At
the same time he was wise enough to avoid drawing attention to himself.
He passed well beyond the hotel without catching sight of the man and
boy and finally stopped, convinced that it was useless to go farther.

Alvin Landon was of the same mind with him. As matters stood, nothing
was to be gained by accusing the youth of assault and attempted robbery,
for no proof could be brought forward. Moreover, his companion at that
time was absent, the man now with him having been seen for the first
time by Alvin and Mike a few minutes before.

"It will be well to learn something of the two," the Captain thought to
himself, "but it will be a mistake to make them suspect us, as they are
sure to do if they find we are dogging them. As for Mike pitching in and
starting another fight, it will be the height of folly. I won't allow
it."

The two were walking side by side and going so fast that several persons
looked curiously at them.

"Take it easy," advised Alvin.

"The same is what I'll do whin I comes up wid the spalpeen, that stole
me hat where I'd flung it in the road."

"Keep cool and if you get sight of them, don't go nearer, but watch----"

"There they be now!" exclaimed Mike at the first glance down one of the
alleys on their left, and, before Alvin could check him, he dashed off
at his best speed. His progress might have been satisfactory, but when
half way down the hill some one pushed the front of a wheelbarrow
through a door and across the way. Its appearance was so unexpected and
close that Mike could not check himself nor had he time in which to
gather for the leap that would clear it. He struck the obstacle fairly
and went over, landing on his hands and knees, while the barrow in turn
toppled upon him. The urchin who had caused the mischief turned and fled
in a panic, before the indignant Mike could chastise him.

Alvin rested his hand against the nearest building and laughed until he
could hardly save himself from falling. Resuming his uncertain walk he
called:

"Are you hurt, Mike?"

"Oh, no," replied the lad, rubbing his shins and screwing up his face
with the smart of the bumps he had received; "as me second cousin said
whin he fell from the steeple, I've only broke both legs, one arm and
bent me head out of shape--nothin' worth the mintion. I come nigh
forgettin' my arrant."

And unmindful of the hurts, which were trifling, he dashed down the
slope, arriving a minute later at the wharf, where a dozen men and
several boys were loading or unloading craft, or boarding or coming
ashore from some boat. Although Mike would not admit it, he had fixed
his suspicion upon a man who when he turned his face proved to be fully
fifty years old, while his companion was a lusty colored youth. He
glanced here and there and at all the craft in sight. Possibly his eyes
rested upon the right one, but he saw neither of the persons whom he
sought, and faced about as Alvin joined him.

"They have give us the slip--bad cess to 'em, for I make nothing of the
spalpeens among them in sight."

The two scanned all the craft that suggested ownership by the strangers,
but it was in vain. Then they made their way along the wharves to where
they had left the _Deerfoot_. Chester was awaiting them and shook his
head as they approached. Alvin paid the man who had looked after the
boat in his absence, and after casting off and starting the motor, the
three headed for Christmas Cove, where the Captain said they would have
dinner, though they would arrive before the regular hour for that meal.
Progress was so easy that conversation kept up with the Captain while
he held the steering wheel.

"I suspect from what we saw awhile ago that the fellows whom Mike and I
met last night belong to a gang. One of them is a man and there may be
others."

"It is lucky the younger did not recognize either of you," said Chester.
"Do you think he would do so if you met face to face?"

"There is no reason why he should not, for Mike identified him with only
a passing glance. You must remember that the sky was clear and the moon
bright."

"It's mesilf that belaves we imprissed ourselves upon their memory,"
said Mike so gravely that the others knew he meant the words as a jest.
Alvin was silent for a moment and then turned his head, for the wheel
required little attention.

"Mike, you acknowledge me as Captain and that my mate must obey orders?"

The remark was a question. The youth rose promptly to his feet and
touched his forefinger to the front of his cap.

"I await yer orders, Captain."

"If we meet that fellow whose name we believe to be 'Noxon' you must not
show that you have any suspicion of his identity, nor must you make any
move against him without first consulting me."

Mike looked at the second mate.

"Isn't that enough to timpt one to mootiny? I obsarve that Mr. Noxon's
right eye was of a bootiful black and blue color and the ither should be
painted to match the same. It was him that was the thaif who stole me
hat."

"Didn't you take _his_ cap?"

"It was a fair prize of war--there's a moighty difference, as the lawyer
said whin he larned it was the ither man's ox that was gored. But as I
flung my tile away and he come back to git his own, I sha'n't lay it up
agin him."

As the _Deerfoot_ sped northeast again, the sharp cutwater splitting the
wavelets to the tune of the big motor's humming, and following the main
line of the Maine coast, the boys saw the small, low-lying Ram Island
and its light on their right, with Linekin Neck on the left, and Inner
Heron Island showing in front. Gliding between this and the ledges
known as the Thread of Life, they speedily rounded to at the wharf at
Christmas Cove. As elsewhere, there were yachts, sailboats and various
kinds of craft at anchor or secured to the floats. To one of the latter
the three friends made the launch fast and passed over the pier and by
the hall where entertainments and religious services are held. The water
so far north as Maine is as a rule too cold for popular bathing. At
Christmas Cove this difficulty is overcome by a goodly sized pool into
which the salt water is admitted at high tide, when the gates are closed
and it is held until the time comes for changing it.

The opportunity was too good to be lost, and the youngsters each rented
a suit and a bath house, from which they emerged and plunged delightedly
into the pool. It will be remembered that Mike Murphy could not swim a
stroke, but the pond is prepared for such persons, and all he had to do
was to keep away from the corner near the gates, which is the only place
where the water is beyond one's depth. Alvin and Chester were fine
swimmers and dived and frolicked until they were sated. They tried to
teach the rudiments of swimming to their comrade, but he made no
progress and they had to give over the attempt for the time.

It was but a short climb to the Hollywood Inn, where the genial Landlord
Thorpe gave them welcome and they wrote their names in the ledger. Then
they walked out on the rear porch to admire the romantic scenery, while
awaiting the dinner hour. On one side was the placid Cove, making up
from the Damariscotta River and dotted with pleasure craft; on the
other, John's Bay and the broad Atlantic. Pointing toward the historical
Pemaquid Point, on the opposite side of the Bay, Alvin said to his
companions:

"All looks calm and peaceful now, but how different it was on that
September day in 1813!"

They turned inquiringly toward him.

"Right off yonder the American brig _Enterprise_ of fourteen guns,
commanded by Captain Burrows, fought the British _Boxer_, also of
fourteen guns. It was a desperate battle in which both captains were
killed and the British vessel captured. The prize was taken into
Portland harbor, and the two commanders lie buried side by side in the
city."

CHAPTER IX

NO MAN'S LAND

Lying a short distance off the Maine coast is an island which belongs to
nobody and is therefore referred to as No Man's Land. If you look for it
on the map you will find it marked as Muscongus. It is also known as
Loud's Island, in honor of the first settler. The strange state of
affairs came about in this way:

The Lincolnshire or Muscongus Patent, granted in 1630 by the Council of
Plymouth to Beauchamp and Leverett, included the land from the seaboard,
between the Muscongus and Penobscot rivers, for a certain distance
inland, but made no mention of the island on the south. The grant passed
to General Samuel Waldo, and was the origin of most of the land titles
in that section of Maine.

One of the most honored names in colonial England is that of Samoset,
the Wampanoag Indian, who met the first Plymouth settlers with the
English greeting, "Welcome, Englishmen!" He had picked up a few words
from the fishermen who made their headquarters at Monhegan, an island
ten miles farther out to sea. Samoset was accustomed to spend his
summers on Muscongus. If you dig in the sand on the island you will be
pretty sure to find relics of the aboriginal occupation of the place.

Captain Loud commanded a privateer in the service of George III, and one
day lost his temper in a dispute over some prize money. The quarrel
waxed so hot that he declared in his rage he would never lift his hand
again in the service of the king, even to save the monarch's head. Such
_lese majesté_ was sure to bring serious consequences to the peppery old
salt, so he hurriedly sailed for Boston on his brig. While coasting the
province of Maine, he came upon Muscongus, and was so charmed that he
spent the remainder of his life there. In some way that no one can
explain, the United States surveyors overlooked this island, three miles
in length and a mile broad, and the mistake has never been corrected.
Muscongus therefore remains no man's land.

It is well wooded and watered and has a picturesque shore, with rocky
coves, white sandy beaches, and an attractive appearance from every
direction. No steamer ever stops there, and it is rather ticklish
business to pick your way over the crags to the dilapidated landing and
so on to the firm land beyond.

The unique condition of Muscongus causes some queer things. For a long
time, the people, who now number a hundred and twenty-five, paid taxes
to the township of Bristol on the mainland two miles away. Every year
the tax collector sailed or rowed over to Muscongus and marked in chalk
on each door the amount of taxes due from that family. He gave his
receipt for payment of the same by rubbing out the chalked figures.

This was a pleasing but one-sided arrangement. Bristol gained the sole
advantage and by and by the Muscongus folks awoke to the fact. Then they
refused to pay any taxes unless the collector showed legal authority
for his assessment. The chalk marks were rubbed off the doors and after
some spirited scenes the collector withdrew, since, as has been shown,
he had no legal means of enforcing his demands. Since then Muscongus has
been the only community in New England which is not taxed, except so far
as it chooses to impose the burden upon itself.

Among the islanders every man was a Democrat with a single exception. At
the Congressional election on the mainland the Republican candidate was
unpopular, but the vote of Muscongus was cast for and elected him. The
canvassers, however, threw out the vote because of the refusal to pay
taxes. This was just before the Civil War, and in the words of the
chronicler of Muscongus: "That was the end of all things here in
connection with the mainland."

You need not be reminded that as the great war went on the government
was forced to resort to drafting to obtain the soldiers it needed.
Muscongus was included in the Bristol district, but the inhabitants
warned the authorities that any attempt to enforce the draft would cause
bloodshed. Some of them, however, were alarmed at the thought of
fighting the national government. At a mass meeting the community voted
to donate nine hundred dollars toward the expense of the war, and a
number paid three hundred dollars apiece for substitutes, though none
volunteered. These contributions meant many sacrifices to the poor
fisher folk.

A man living on Muscongus had once served in the regular army, and a
certain major at Bristol determined to secure him for Uncle Sam. The
officer was taken over to the island in a small sailboat, and made his
way to the home of the veteran he wanted. He was absent, but his wife
was in the kitchen peeling potatoes. A few minutes later the major's
companions awaiting him at the shore saw him dash through the door and
run at his highest speed for the boat. A few paces behind him, holding
the pan of potatoes against her side with one hand, and snatching them
out with the other, she bombarded the terrified fugitive. She could
throw, too, with the force and accuracy of a short stop of the
professional league, and every missile landed. She kept up the
bombardment all the way to the waterside, by which time her ammunition
was used up. When the battered major stepped ashore at Bristol he
exclaimed:

"Thunderation! if I had a regiment of women like her I'd capture
Richmond in three days!"

The foregoing facts Captain Alvin Landon related to Chester Haynes and
Mike Murphy one sunshiny forenoon as the _Deerfoot_ swept past the
numerous islands between Cape Newagen and Pemaquid Point, and rounded to
at the rickety landing on the southern side of Muscongus. The boys
stepped out upon the rocks, leaping and climbing to the wabbling support
over which they picked their way to the solid earth. A few rods distant
a goodly sized sailboat was moored, the passengers having already gone
up the sloping bank and inland. Hardly a fair summer day goes by
without bringing visitors to one of the most interesting spots on the
coast of Maine.

Since the excursion was likely to take most of the afternoon, our young
friends brought their lunch with them. At the crest of the slope, they
sat down on the grass under a group of trees, and with keen appetites
ate the last morsel of their meal. Then followed a stroll, with ears and
eyes open. They found the islanders courteous, hospitable and ready to
answer all questions. One of the first interesting facts learned by the
youthful callers was that nearly all the people were blue-eyed, and the
men straight, tall, rugged and with a physique superior to that of their
neighbors on the mainland. Several descendants of the Loud and other
pioneers were met, one or two of whom were approaching the century mark.
Contentment was everywhere, and all were proud of their independent
lives with not the slightest wish to change it. Some of the men seek
their wives outside of the little model republic, and more than one
husband has been drawn to the island by the attraction of a pair of
violet eyes and the sweet disposition of a coy maiden. It has been
charged that there is a mental and physical deterioration because of
intermarriages between relatives, but nothing of the kind seems to have
occurred.

Muscongus knows little, except by hearsay, of crime and pauperism. All
the doors are left unlocked at night, and a drunken person is never
seen. Should any fall in need of charity it is given cheerfully. Years
ago there was an aged couple whose five sons were lost at sea, and who
were unable to provide for themselves. They were supported in comfort in
their own home as long as they lived.

Of course there has to be some form of government. It is of the simplest
nature. All general meetings are held in the little schoolhouse, the
only public building on the island. The presiding officer is chosen by
acclamation, and is always the school agent and superintendent of
business of the community. An open discussion follows of the measures
needed for the public welfare, and whatever rules are adopted are
obeyed without protest.

In former years the porgy industry was the chief support. But that
declined and was succeeded by lobster and mackerel fishing, which does
not pay so well. Every family owns a little farm, the soil is good, and
all live in modest comfort. The neat, tidy houses nestling among the
firs are surrounded by fruit trees trim and productive. The small
library in the schoolhouse is free to all.

As to religious services, a prayer meeting is held every Sunday evening
in the schoolhouse and Sunday School in the afternoon, but there is no
resident minister. Occasionally the clergyman at Friendship, near
Bristol, comes over to preach, and the faithful coast missionary who
works among remote islanders and lighthouse keepers brings reading
matter and ministers to the spiritual wants of the people. Among the
islanders are Free Masons, Odd Fellows, Knights of Pythias and Red Men,
who conduct the funeral services.

"It calls to mind the ould counthry," said Mike Murphy, when the
_Deerfoot_ had started homeward.

"How?" asked Chester at his side.

"It's so different; think if ye can of any part of Ireland living for a
waak, lit alone months and years, widout a shindy."

"There are few sections in our own country of which that can be said."

"It taxes me mind to thry to draw the painful picter; let us think of
something else."

Since the weather was favorable, Captain Landon made a circuit farther
south, leaving the small White Islands on his left, the Hypocrites on
his right, and so on into the broad bay, whose western boundary is
Southport.

"I say, Captain," suddenly called Mike.

"What is it?" asked Landon, looking partly round.

"If ye have no objiction I should like to take a thrick at the wheel."

"All right; come over here."

In a twinkling the two had changed places. As Mike assumed his duty, he
added:

"I've been obsarving ye so close that I belave I can run the battleship
as well as yersilf. I have noted that whin ye wish to turn to the right,
ye move the wheel around that way, sarving it according whin ye wish to
head t'other way. 'Spose now ye find it nicessary to go backward?"

"Pull over the reversing lever; the wheel has nothing to do with that."

"I'll remimber the same. Hullo!" added Mike in some excitement. "I
obsarve a ship ahead; do ye think it's a pirate?"

His companions laughed and Alvin answered:

"That is the steamer _Enterprise_, which runs from Portland to East
Boothbay and back on alternate days, calling at different points."

"I mustn't run her down," said Mike, swinging over the wheel so as to
pass her bow; "she's right in our path."

"Don't change your course; she has plenty of time to get out of your
way."

"Begorrah! do ye maan to say _she is moving_?"

His companions scrutinized the lumbering craft for a minute as if in
doubt. It was Chester who said:

"I think she is."

"Better make sure," remarked Mike heading the launch to the south, thus
contributing his part to a joke which has been fashionable for years in
that section of the Union over the sluggishness of the freight and
passenger steamer named.

CHAPTER X

THE LURE OF GOLD

It was borne in upon Gideon Landon when he rounded the half century mark
that he must let up in his intense application to his vast moneyed
interests or break down. He hated to think of stopping, even for a brief
season, but nature gave her unerring warning and the specialist whom he
consulted spoke tersely and to the point:

"Take a vacation every year or die."

The capitalist recalled the habit of Bismarck, the great German
Chancellor, who when worn out by the crushing cares of office hied away
to his cabin in the pine woods, and gave orders to the sentinels at the
gate to shoot all visitors unless they came directly from the King. So
Landon built him a palatial bungalow, as he called it, near the southern
end of Southport Island. The logs, all with their bark on, were a foot
in diameter. From the outside, the structure looked rough and rugged,
and little more than a good imitation of the dwellings of the New
England pioneers; but you had only to peep through the windows to note
its splendid furnishings. The finest of oriental rugs covered the floor;
chairs, tables and lounges were of the richest make, and the hundreds of
choice books in their mahogany cases cost twice as many dollars. A
modern machine furnished the acetylene light, the broad fireplace could
take in a half cord of wood when the weather was too cool for comfort
without it, and the beds on the upper floors were as soft and inviting
as those in the banker's city residence. In short, everything that
wealth could provide and for which there was a wish was at the service
of the inmates. He offered to send a Chickering piano, but his wife did
not think it worth while, as she had no daughter and neither she nor her
husband played. Alvin had been taking lessons, for several years, but he
objected to keeping up practice during vacation and his parents decided
that his views were well founded.

"Here I shall loaf and rest for six weeks!" exclaimed the owner, when
the chauffeur carried him, his wife and two servants from the town of
Southport to the new home.

Alvin had gone thither the week before, and was looked after by Pat
Murphy, the caretaker, and his wife, who had been long in the service of
the banker.

One cause of Landon taking this step was the example of his old friend
Franklin Haynes, who had only one child--Chester, with whom you have
become acquainted. His enthusiastic accounts of the tonic effect of the
air, confirmed by his own renewed vigor and tanned skin, decided the
elder in his course. The Haynes bungalow was smaller and more modest
than Landon's, the two being separated by a half mile of woods and open
country. This, however, was of no account, for the Landon auto skimmed
over the interval in a few minutes and the interchange of visits went on
day and night. The two families played bridge, dined, automobiled and
cruised with each other, while the boys were inseparable.

This went on for a fortnight, when a break came. Landon and Haynes were
interested in a large financial deal, in which the latter believed he
was wronged. There was a sharp quarrel and the friendly relations
between the two, including their wives, snapped apart. All bridge
playing ceased, and the long summer hours became so deadly dull for Mrs.
Landon that she gladly accepted the invitation of a friend, hurried to
New York and sailed with her for England and the continent. Haynes spent
his time mainly in fishing and reading, but kept away from the home of
his rich neighbor, who was equally careful not to approach the other's
residence.

Both men, however, were too sensible to let their quarrel affect their
sons. Not the slightest shadow could come between those chums, who
visited back and forth, just as they had always done, stopping over
night wherever convenient, and as happy as two clean-minded, healthy
youngsters ought to be. The Landon auto was at the disposal of the lads
whenever they cared for it, but the youths had become interested in
motor boating and gave little attention to the land vehicle.

The unpleasant break to which I have referred occurred about a fortnight
before my introduction of the two lads to you. Landon never had any
liking for athletics or sport. Every favorable morning his chauffeur
took him to the little cluster of houses called Southport, at the head
of the island, where he got his letters, New York newspapers and such
supplies as happened to be needed at the house. This used up most of the
first half of the day. After lunch he read, slept and loafed, never
using the auto and caring nothing for the motor launch which was
continually cruising over the water.

This went well enough for ten days or so, by which time the banker grew
restless. Sleeping so much robbed him of rest at night. Classic works
lost their charm and the "best sellers" bored him. He yawned, strolled
about his place, and pitied every man who was doomed to spend his life
in the Pine Tree State. True, he was gaining weight and his appetite
became keen, but he smoked too much and was discontented. The lure of
Wall Street was drawing him more powerfully every day. He longed to
plunge into the excitement with his old time zest, and to enjoy the
thrill that came when success ended a financial battle.

He was lolling in his hammock at the front of the bungalow one
afternoon, trying to read and to smoke one of his heavy black cigars,
and succeeding in neither task, when Davis Dunning, his chauffeur,
glummer than usual because there was no excuse for his taking any more
joy rides, halted the machine at the side of the roadway. Throwing out
the clutch, he hurried up the walk and handed his employer a telegram
that had been 'phoned over from Boothbay Harbor to Southport, where the
chauffeur found it awaiting him when he made his daily run thither, this
time unaccompanied by his employer.

No message could have been more welcome. It told the banker that the
recent stir in steel and other stocks made it necessary for him to
return to New York as soon as possible and to stay "a few days." He was
alert on the instant. If he could reach Portland that evening he would
board the express and be in New York the next morning.

"It must be done!" he exclaimed, aware that there was no necessity for
such haste. Consultation with Dunning, however, convinced him that the
course for an automobile was too roundabout and there was too much
ferrying to make the hurried journey feasible. He decided to go to Bath
by steamer, and then by rail on the morrow, easily reaching Portland in
time for the ride by night to the metropolis.

This gave him opportunity to explain matters to Alvin, who was told to
remain at Southport until the time came for him to re-enter school. The
son was sorry to lose the company of his father, whose affection he
returned, but it is not in boy nature to mourn for one from whom he did
not expect to be parted long. The only thing in creation in which he
felt pleasure and interest just then was in sailing his motor boat.

At the time of leaving Southport, Mr. Landon expected to return in the
course of a week and said so to his son, but the call of business was
stronger than that of the fine woods and salt water of Maine. He easily
found the necessity for staying in New York until the time remaining for
his vacation was so brief that he wrote Alvin it was not worth while to
rejoin him.

So it came about that his son remained in the big bungalow, looked after
by two servants, not to mention Pat Murphy the caretaker and his wife.
Chester Haynes stayed with his parents in their modest home a mile to
the southward, while the irrepressible Mike was at both homes more than
his own. He had become as fond of boating as his two friends and set out
to learn all about the craft. It did not take him long to become a good
steersman and by and by he could start and stop the _Deerfoot_, though
he shrank from attempting to bring her beside a wharf or float. In
threading through the shipping at the different harbors, either Alvin or
Chester took the wheel, one boy being almost equal in expertness to the
other, both in handling the launch and taking care of the machinery.

There seemed no end to the romantic excursions that tempted the young
navigators forth. Sometimes they fished, but preferred to glide through
the smooth inland waters, where every scene was new and seemingly more
romantic than the others. They landed at Pemaquid Beach and listened to
the story of the old fort as told by the local historian, who proved
that the date was correct which is painted on the stone wall and says a
settlement was made there before the one at Jamestown. They passed up
the short wide inlet known as John's River, and turning round cut across
to the Damariscotta, which they ascended to Newcastle, with picturesque
scenery all the way.

The boys were somewhat late in starting one morning and the sky was
threatening, but with the folding top as a protection if needed, and the
opportunity to halt when and wherever they choose, the agreement was
unanimous that they should go up the Sheepscot to Wiscasset, eat dinner
there and return at their leisure.

"It is well worth the trip," said Alvin, whose eyes sparkled with the
memory of the passage which he had made more than once. Chester was
equally enthusiastic.

"I'm riddy to sarve as a sacrifice," replied Mike, "as me friend Terry
McGarrity remarked whin he entered the strife that was to prove which
could ate the most mince pie inside of half an hour."

CHAPTER XI

A MISSING MOTOR BOAT

Swinging into the broad expanse of Sheepscot Bay, the _Deerfoot_ moved
smoothly up the river which bears the same name. Captain Landon held her
to the moderate speed of fifteen miles or so an hour. There was no call
for haste and he was wise not to strain the engine unnecessarily. To
increase the rate would be imitating the man who drives his automobile
at the highest clip, when he has to concentrate his attention upon the
machine, with no appreciation of the beauties of the country through
which he is plunging, and continually threatened by fatal accidents.

Alvin held the wheel, while Chester and Mike, seated behind him, kept
intelligent trace of their progress by means of the fine map of the
United States Geological Survey. The first point identified was Lower
Mark Island on the right and close to Southport, then came Cat Ledges,
Jold, Cedarbrush, the Hendrick Light, on the same side, while across
loomed the pretty station known as Five Islands, one of the regular
stopping places of the steamers going north or south. Omitting the
smaller places, the next point which interested our friends was the Isle
of Springs, one of the best known summer resorts in Sheepscot River. The
landing was crowded with passengers, waiting for the steamer _Gardiner_
from Augusta, the capital of the State, and on its way to rush through
the strait north of Southport to its destination, Ocean Point beyond
Squirrel Island.

The peculiarity about this plucky little steamer is that no craft that
ever plowed through those waters is so dependable. Again and again she
has made the long trip and not been out a single minute at any of the
numerous landings. She has been called the "Pony of the Kennebec," and
nothing less than an explosion of her boiler or a collision with another
craft would make her tardy anywhere.

"There are many persons along the river and on the islands who set
their watches and clocks by the _Gardiner_," said Alvin, speaking over
his shoulder.

He glanced at his watch.

"I don't know when she is due at the Isle of Springs, but as I figure it
she ought to be in sight now."

"And, begorrah! there she comes!" exclaimed Mike, pointing to the left
toward Goose Rock Passage, leading from Knubble Bay to Sheepscot. The
foaming billows tumbled away from the prow, as the boat drove
resistlessly forward, and the whistle sounded for the landing. Many a
time when rounding Capitol Island to the northwest of Squirrel, with a
storm raging, the spray and water have been flung clean over the pilot
house and slid over the upper deck and streamed away off the stern.

Chester Haynes saluted with the whistle, but the captain of the
_Gardiner_ gave no heed. His eye was upon the landing toward which he
was steaming. When the freight had been tumbled ashore and the waiting
cargo taken aboard, the gang planks were drawn in, lines cast off, and
though a dozen passengers might be pointing toward the pier, shouting
and waving hats or umbrellas, all would be left.

The resinous pine trees formerly including firs, larches and true cedars
so thick that no spaces showed between, grew all the way down the rocky
hills to the water's edge. The river, without a ripple except such as
was made by passing craft, was as crystalline as a mountain spring. Here
and there a rude drawing was scratched in the face of the cliffs, the
work of the Indians who lived in that part of Maine before the Pilgrims
landed at Plymouth. It was one continuous dream which never loses its
charm for those who make the trip, no matter how often.

The sky remained overcast, though no rain fell, when the _Deerfoot_
drove through the Eddy, where the current narrows and is very swift and
deep. A bridge connects the mainland with Davis Island. The launch sat
so low that there was no call to the bridge tender to open the draw. As
it shot under, the peaks of the flagstaffs showed a foot below the
planking.

They were now approaching the pretty town of Wiscasset, from which came
the faint thrill of a locomotive whistle, as notice that at that point a
traveler could change from boats to cars. The launch was sweeping round
a bend in the river when Mike pointed to the right with the question:

"Phwat's that?"

"It is the famous blockhouse, built in 1807 for the protection of
Wiscasset, four miles away, but it was never used because the town was
never in danger."

The interesting structure, which you may have seen when gliding past in
a boat, is octagonal in form, with one window on each face of the lower
story, except on the one containing a narrow door approached by a single
step of wood. As was the fashion in building blockhouses, the second
story overhangs the first and on each face of this upper story is a
square window with a long loop-hole placed horizontally on either side.
The flat roof is surmounted by a slender cupola, also octagonal, with a
window occupying nearly all the space of each face. The whole building
is covered with shingles and for a long time after its erection it was
surrounded by an elaborate system of earthworks.

The _Deerfoot_ slackened its speed as it came opposite. Mike Murphy
showed special interest in the old faded building.

"It suggists the palace of me grandfather, the Duke De Sassy," said he.
"If ye have no great objiction, Captain, I should be glad of a closer
look at it."

Since the day was at their disposal, the youthful captain was quite
willing to halt and inspect the historic structure. He turned the bow
toward the bank, and stopped in deep water a few feet from land. Mike
cleared the intervening distance in an easy jump, taking the end of the
bow line which he made fast to a convenient tree. Chester at the same
time had cast out the anchor from the stern and made fast the cable to a
cleat on the after or stern deck. The launch was thus held immovable and
safe from injury. In the meanwhile, Alvin had employed himself in
shutting down the motor, turning off the gasoline and air tank valves
and making ready to leave the launch in its usual good order.

Mike said:

"I have a brilliant suggistion to make to ye, as me uncle said when he
arranged to foight six men, by taking on one each day instead of
engaging them all at once. The same is that we indoolge in our noon
repast on shore."

The plans of the lads when they left home was to have dinner at the
hotel in Wiscasset, but they had been so delayed by their leisurely
ascent of the river that the meridian was past. A supply of sandwiches,
ginger ale and sarsaparilla was laid in so as to be prepared for
contingencies, and it need not be said that all had keen appetites.
Chester remarked that it was only a brief run to the little town ahead.
Moreover, it was more convenient to eat on the launch, where they could
spread the food on one of the seats or the cover of the cockpit. But
every boy would rather chew a venison or bear steak, though tough as
leather, in preference to a tender, juicy bit of beef, and eating in
the woods is tenfold more enticing than in a house or on a boat.
Besides, they had been sitting so long that the change would be a
relief. Accordingly, Chester and Mike gathered up the big paper bags
which held the lunch, and the bottles of soft stuff, and leaped lightly
ashore.

The little party walked the short distance to the primitive blockhouse,
and passing a little way beyond sat down on the pine burrs and grass and
tackled the food. The clear air, the odorous breath of the forest, and
the soft ripple of the stream flowing past, gave the repast a charm
beyond that which the Waldorf-Astoria can impart to its guests.

"It makes me sigh," said Mike when the last morsel of food had
disappeared and he drew the napkin across his lips, "to think that only
a few waaks are lift to us of this bliss of life."

"Yes," replied Captain Alvin; "the days fly fast; soon I shall have to
go back to school and study so hard there will be mighty little time
left for play."

"The same here," added Chester in a lugubrious voice. "I don't suppose
there would be half as much fun in this sport if we took it straight
along."

"I'm willing to try the same for tin or twinty years; it's mesilf that
doesn't belave I'd grow weary in less time than thot. Couldn't ye
persuade your dad, you j'ining company wid him, Chister, to give the
thing a thrial for that long?"

Alvin shook his head.

"Suppose our parents should be so foolish, do you think your father and
mother would allow you to squander your time like that?"

Mike removed his cap and scratched his head.

"I'm afeard there'd be objiction from that side of the house. Ye see
that twinty years from now dad, if he's alive, which God grant, will be
an old man; thrue I'd be in me prime, and if he was too overbearing wid
me, I could lay him over me knee and spank him, but I'd sorter hate to
do that, bekase of the kindness he had shown me in days gone by.
Besides," added Mike, with a big wink, "me mither would be sure to take
dad's part, and I'm convinced that twinty years from now she'll be
bigger and stronger than to-day. With the two united in battle array
agin me, I'd hev no ch'ice but to take to the woods. Yes; we'll have to
give up the idea which sthruck me so favorable at first. What do ye
intind to do with the _Deerfoot_, Captain, when the summer is gone?"

"Draw her out on land and cover her with canvas for the winter, so as to
keep her in condition for a bigger outing next year."

"That maans, I 'spose, ye'll carry her in the house and put her to bed
and kiver her up the same as a sick baby?"

"Hardly that, but she will need and will receive the best of
care--hark!"

The three were silent for a minute. Faintly but distinctly all caught
the distant whirr from the exhaust of a speed launch. They quickly noted
that the sound grew less audible--proof that the launch was speeding
away from them.

At first it seemed to be in the direction of Wiscasset, but when they
were barely able to hear the noise, they agreed that it was from down
the river. Inasmuch as they had not met any boat on their way to this
point, they were puzzled to understand how the craft could have passed
them without being seen. The only explanation was that it had come
nearly to the blockhouse from below, and then owing to some cause had
turned about and gone back.

"That's queer," remarked Alvin, as a sudden suspicion flashed over him.
He sprang to his feet and ran round the building, the others at his
heels, for the same dread was with them. In a moment Alvin halted with
the exclamation:

"Some one has run off with our launch!"

Such was the fact.

CHAPTER XII

IN THE TELEGRAPH OFFICE

"Maybe it slipped free and floated off," said Chester, who did not pause
until he reached the water's edge.

"Mebbe she climbed out of the river and wint round t'other side of the
blockhouse," suggested Mike, who regretted the next moment his ill-timed
jest and joined Chester, with Alvin only a pace or two behind them.

There was a brief hope that Chester was right and that the motor boat
had worked free and drifted down stream, but it was quickly evident that
that was impossible. The bow line and anchor would have held if not
disturbed by some one.

Then, too, what meant the muffled exhaust heard a few minutes before? It
could have been caused only by the starting of the motor. Alvin, who
showed quicker wit than his companions, examined the ground at the
water's edge. He quickly read the solution.

"There are the footprints of several people in the soft earth. All is as
plain as day."

"All what?" asked Chester.

"The manner of the _Deerfoot's_ going."

"Give us your explanation."

"While we sat behind the blockhouse eating lunch, two or three or
perhaps more persons came out of the woods and walked to this spot; they
cast off the bow line, sprang aboard; one of them drew the boat out over
the stern anchor and tripped it; they did not start the engine till they
had drifted round the bend below; then they headed for Sheepscot Bay and
are well on their way there, running at full speed as they do not need
to spare the launch."

"Bedad! I b'lave ye're right," said Mike, compressing his lips. "I'm
off!"

"What do you mean?" asked the astonished Captain.

"I'm going to run a race wid the same to Cape Newagen!"

"Why, you have no more chance of overtaking the boat than you have of
out-swimming the _Mauretania_."

But Mike made no reply. Spitting on his hands and rubbing them together,
he broke into a lope and quickly passed from sight in the woods.

Despite the alarming situation, Alvin and Chester looked in each other's
face and laughed.

"Did you ever know of anything so crazy?" asked the Captain.

"Never; the idea of putting his short legs against a boat that can run
twenty odd miles an hour and has a good start, is worthy of Mike Murphy
alone."

"But we must do something," said the puzzled Alvin; "some one has stolen
the launch and should be headed off."

"How shall we do it?"

"The easiest way is to cross the long bridge to Wiscasset on the other
side of the river and telegraph to different points down stream."

They were about to start when Alvin said:

"I ought not to have allowed Mike to go off as he did. He is so rash
and headlong that he will be sure to run into trouble. If we go to
Wiscasset, we shall be separated so long that we shall lose him
altogether. If I had only put the switch plug in my pocket they could
not have started the motor without a lot of time and trouble!"

"Why not follow him down stream?"

"That plan was in my mind. The boat hasn't had time to go far. Suppose
we try Point Quarry. That is the lowest village of Edgecomb township,
where Cross River turns off and runs into the Back River, which follows
the course of the Sheepscot and joins it lower down. At Point Quarry the
stream is so narrow that the _Deerfoot_ is sure to be seen."

"Provided some one happens to be looking."

"Many of these small places have telegraph lines open in the summer, but
are closed in winter. A road leads from Charmount to Point Quarry, which
isn't more than four or five miles away. Less than half of that distance
will take us to Charmount. Come on."

The boys lost no time. Both had studied their map so closely before
leaving home and on their way up the Sheepscot that they had no fear of
going astray. The surrounding country is sparsely settled, with
prosperous farms here and there lining the highway. The walking was good
and the sky had cleared within the last few hours. The lads were
athletic, and were impelled by impatience and resentment toward whoever
had taken such a liberty with another's property.

Two miles took them to a point where a branch road led off at right
angles in the direction of the Sheepscot and consequently to the meager
settlement of Charmount, below the eddy, where a wooden bridge joins the
mainland to Davis Island. They met no vehicles or footmen, though they
passed a number of tidy looking houses and saw men at work in the
fields. Their destination was less than a mile off and they reached it
in due time. They found a young woman in charge of the telegraph
instrument, who in answer to their inquiry said she could send a message
to Point Quarry, where the station would be closed in a few weeks.

The youths while on the road had formulated what to say by telegraph.
Since they had no acquaintance at either place, Alvin addressed his
inquiry to the operator, who happened also to be a young woman. This was
the message:

"Will you be good enough to tell me, if you can, whether a motor boat
has passed down the river within the last few minutes?"

In a brief while, an unexpectedly favorable reply was returned. It was
addressed, however, to the young woman herself, who after writing it
down rose to her feet and called to Alvin.

"Here is your answer. Miss Prentiss says that it isn't her business to
keep watch of boats passing up and down stream, her salary being so big
that she has no time to give attention to anything except the affairs of
her office."

"I suppose that is meant as sarcasm," commented Alvin.

"It does sound like it, but she adds that the fisherman, Pete Davis,
came into the office directly after your message reached her, and she
asked him your question. He told her that such a boat as you speak of
had gone past under full speed only a few minutes before and he read the
name _Deerfoot_ on her bow."

"That's it!" exclaimed Alvin. "Did the fisherman say anything more?"

"Probably he did, but Miss Prentiss hasn't reported it. Is there
anything further I can do for you?"

"Nothing--thank you."

As he spoke, he passed a half dollar tip to her, whereupon she beamingly
expressed her gratitude. In truth she was so pleased that she smiled
more broadly than ever into the handsome face of the youth before her.
Alvin suspected she was ready for a mild flirtation, but he was in no
mood for such frivolity and was about to turn away, when Chester spoke
in a low voice:

"She has something more to say to you."

"Well?" he remarked inquiringly, returning the sunny gaze of the young
woman.

"Do you know anyone by the name of Mike Murphy?"

Alvin laughed.

"I rather think we do; he came up on the boat with us, and is rushing
down the river in the hope of overtaking it."

"Well, he stopped in here and sent a telegram about it."

"Is it possible? Let me see it."

She shook her head.

"Not without an order from court; the rules do not permit anything of
that kind."

"We won't tell anybody."

"I know you won't, for you will never have anything to tell."

She turned and looked down at the last sheet of yellow paper on her
file. Then she grew red in the face and shook with mirth.

"To whom did Mike send his message?"

"I wish I dare tell you; it is the funniest thing that has ever happened
in the office since I have been here. You couldn't guess in ten years."

"We have hardly that much time to spend in trying, so we shall have to
give it up."

"When you see your friend say to him from me that his message was
forwarded just as he directed."

"Where did he tell you to deliver the reply?"

"He said nothing of that. I have a suspicion that there won't be any
reply to his telegram."

Alvin was turning away again, when the miss, leaning on her desk and
tapping her pretty white teeth with the end of her lead pencil smilingly
asked:

"Would you really like to see Mike Murphy's telegram?"

"It would be of great help to us in our search for the stolen boat,"
replied Alvin, stepping closer to her.

Chester remained standing by the outer door, with hands thrust in his
pockets. He read the signs aright.

"She has taken a fancy to him," he reflected, "and as there doesn't
happen to be much business on hand just now is disposed to flirt a
little, but Alvin isn't."

"How much will you pay for a sight of the message?"

"Anything in reason."

"And you will never, never, never tell?"

"I give you my pledge that I will not whisper it to any person."

"How about your friend back there? He has a hangdog look which I don't
like."

"I'll answer for him; there are worse fellows, though not many.
Chester!" commanded Alvin, turning abruptly upon him, "get out of sight
and wait for me."

"Yes, sir," meekly answered the youth, turning about and passing into
the open air, where he added to himself, with a broader grin than
before:

"He doesn't suspect she's kidding him, but that's what she's doing."

The young Captain beamed upon the miss.

"Now I'm ready to have a look at my friend's telegram."

"You haven't said how much you will pay," she replied, with a coquettish
glance at the expectant youth.

"How much do you ask?"

"Is it worth five dollars?"

"That's a pretty big price, but I'll give it."

"It isn't enough."

"Name your charge then."

"Fifty thousand dollars; I can't do it for a cent less."

Alvin read the pert miss aright. He soberly reached into his pocket and
drew out his wallet.

"I haven't that much with me; will you take my promissory note?"

"Nothing but cash goes here."

"Some other day--good day."

He lifted his cap and passed out doors to join his grinning friend. The
two started off at a brisk pace and had not taken a dozen steps when
they ran straight into trouble.

CHAPTER XIII

A SLIGHT MISTAKE

An automobile chugging along at the rate of thirty miles an hour whirled
around a bend in the road from the eastward and approached the youths,
who halted and looked wonderingly at it. The youthful chauffeur bent
over the steering wheel, and beside him sat a bearded, grim-looking man
in middle life, with a big brass badge on his breast. The two were the
only occupants of the car, the broad rear seat being unoccupied.

The moment the constable, as he was, caught sight of the lads, he raised
his hand to signify he had business with them. At the same time the
chauffeur slowed up in front of Alvin and Chester. The officer leaped
out before the car had hardly stopped and strode toward them.

"I want you!" was his crisp remark.

"What do you want of us?" asked the astonished Alvin.

"I'll blame soon show you. No shenanigan! Hand over your pistols."

"We haven't any; you are the only one hereabouts that's armed," said the
Captain, observing that the man had drawn a revolver.

"In here with you! I've no time to fool!"

The lads resented his peremptory manner. Chester asked:

"Why should we get into your auto? We prefer to choose our own company;
we don't like your looks."

"I know mighty well you don't, nor do I like _your_ looks, but that
makes no difference. In with you, I say, or I'll blow your heads off!"

The alarming words and action of the officer left no doubt of his
earnestness. Alvin replied:

"We have a right to know why you arrest us; we have done nothing
unlawful."

"I don't mind reminding you that the Rockledge post office was robbed
last night. Banet Raymond the postmaster said it was done by three
scoundrels--all wearing masks and dressed in yachting clothes. They
came this way; where's the other fellow?"

"We had a companion with us when we came up the Sheepscot, but he's gone
in search of our boat that some one stole from us a little while ago."

"You're the skeezicks I'm after; we'll soon have the third burglar."

"What do you mean to do with us?" asked Alvin. "Where is your warrant?"

"I don't need any."

Neither he nor Chester was alarmed. The arrest could have but one issue,
since sooner or later their identity would be proved; but the situation
was exasperating, for it promised to interfere with their capture of the
stolen boat or at least cause serious delay in making the search. It was
dangerous to trifle with an officer who was in no mood to accept any
excuse from the couple whom he believed to be criminals. He added:

"Robbing a post office is a crime against Uncle Sam, and he's a pretty
hard proposition to buck against. If you have a story to tell me, I'll
give you three minutes to do it in."

The two stepped beside the auto, the glum chauffeur silently watching
them.

"It's all well enough for you to be so bumptious in the performance of
what you may think is your duty," said Alvin, looking into the iron
countenance, "but I suppose you have made a mistake once or twice in
your lifetime."

"What's that got to do with this business? Who are you?"

"My name is Alvin Landon and my friend here is Chester Haynes. Our
parents each have a summer home on Southport, opposite Squirrel Island.
My father made me a present of a motor boat a short time ago; we have
been cruising about the bay and islands for several weeks; this morning
we left home with a companion, an Irish lad named Mike Murphy; we
stopped at the blockhouse up the river and went ashore to eat our lunch;
while we were doing so, some one ran off with the boat; Mike has gone on
a run down stream to see if he can overtake it; we walked to this place
and sent a telegram to Point Quarry, inquiring about the craft and
learned it had passed there a few minutes before, headed down stream.
There you have our story straight and true: what have you to say about
it?"

"I don't believe a word of it. Anyhow, you'll have the chance to tell it
in court, where you're certain to get justice done you."

The officer handed his weapon to the chauffeur.

"Keep your eye on 'em, Tim, and at the first move, shoot!"

"Yes, sir," responded the chauffeur, showing by his looks that he would
have been quite glad of an excuse for displaying his markmanship upon
one or both of the prisoners.

His hands thus freed, the officer ran them deftly over the clothing of
each lad from his shoulders to his knees, to assure himself they carried
no weapons. The search was satisfactory.

"Throwed your guns away, I 'spose. Now for the bracelets."

He whipped out a pair of handcuffs, at sight of which Alvin recoiled
with a flush of shame.

"Don't do that, please; we'll give our parole. With your pistol you are
not afraid of two unarmed boys."

The appeal touched the pride of the officer, who dropped the handcuffs
into the side pocket of his coat.

"Of course I'm not afeared of you, but you might try to give me the
slip, if a chance should happen to come your way."

"We will not, for we have nothing to fear."

"All right. You," addressing Alvin, "will sit in front while I take your
friend with me on the back seat."

Brief as was the conversation between the constable and his prisoners,
it attracted the attention of several men, women and young persons, who
gathered round the automobile, and catching the meaning of the incident
from the remarks of those concerned, naturally indulged in remarks.

"Seems to me that this part of Maine has become a favorite tramping
ground for yeggmen and post office robbers," said a man in white
flannels, with a tennis racquet in one hand and two tennis balls in the
other. "These gentlemen have begun young."

"Who would think it of them?" asked the sweet girl at his side.

"Can't judge a fellow by his looks."

"Which is fortunate for you, Algernon."

He lifted his hat in mock obeisance.

An older man, probably a member of the same party of players, spoke
oracularly:

"You needn't say that, Gwendolen; you _can_ judge a person by his looks.
Now just to look at the face of that chap on the front seat. He is
rather handsome, but it is easy to see that the stamp of crime is there,
as plain as the sun at noonday. Like enough he is a tough from the
Bowery of New York."

"And the one on the rear seat beside the officer isn't any better," said
a middle-aged woman, peering through her eyeglasses. "Just think of two
as young as they robbing a post office for a few paltry dollars, and
almost beating the life out of the old postmaster! Ugh! it would serve
them right if they were lynched."

Every word of this and many more were heard by Alvin and Chester during
their brief debate with the officer. It "added to the gayety of nations"
and caused Alvin to turn his head and say to his friend:

"Give a dog a bad name, Chester--you know the rest. We don't seem to
have made a very good impression in Charmount. I never knew I looked so
much like a double-dyed villain."

"I have noticed it many times and it has caused me much pain."

"It might distress me, if we both were not in the same boat."

"We have often been in the same boat, but I don't know that we ever
shall be again. Ah, you have one friend in Charmount."

"Who is he?" asked Alvin, with quick interest.

"It's a _she_; cast your eye toward the telegraph office."

As Alvin did so, he saw the sweet-looking telegraphist in the door and
watching proceedings. He could not resist the temptation to touch his