Canoe Boys and Campfires Part 31

An instant of breathless suspense was followed by the sudden thrusting of a shiny object through a hole in the floor a little to one side of the closet.

"No you don't," cried Moxley in a savage voice. "You can't play that game on me. Get out of that at once, or I'll riddle you with buckshot.

In ten seconds I shoot."

It was not a time to hesitate or parley. The plank dropped into place, and by a reckless swing and drop Hocker landed fairly in the center of the boat, very nearly capsizing it. Abner dropped the oars, and the current whirled the craft swiftly down the wasteway.

It was a bitter disappointment, especially to Ned. Jeffries hastened to the spot as the party landed.

"I'm awful sorry," he said, "but it couldn't be helped. The rascal must have heard some noise you made."

"It's hard luck, that's a fact," muttered Hocker. "I'll square accounts with that scoundrel afore I'm many hours older. The idea of his threatenin' to shoot me with my own gun; that's what riles me most. It's a pity we didn't get the food up. The boys'll have to starve a little longer, I reckon."

"It will be only a little, too," replied Jeffries grimly. "I don't intend to stand any more nonsense. We'll think over the matter and decide on some kind of a move. Moxley has got to come out of that mill.

That settles it."

The party went slowly back to the bushes, and Ned satisfied his hunger with the bread and cold meat Abner had brought, while Jeffries and Hocker carried on a low, earnest discussion.

Presently the quiet was interrupted in an unexpected manner. Being restless and unhappy Bug wandered up toward the mill, and unwittingly strayed into a patch of silvery moonlight.

Moxley must have been on the watch, and the sight of his old chum put him into a fury. He was ignorant of Ned's escape, and naturally attributed his misfortunes to Bug.

"You black hearted dog," he cried savagely. "I'll get square with you.

If I go to jail you'll go with me. It was all your fault anyhow. You persuaded me to go after these boys, and it was you who broke into the cabin and stole the gun and boat. I tried to keep you from it, but you wouldn't listen.

"Oh, you'll pay up for your treachery. I'll swear to all these things--and a good many more--in court. That is if I get there--which ain't at all likely. And if I _do_ get out of this hole I'll hunt you down, if it takes a year."

Moxley's rage was so violent that Bug prudently retreated to the bushes.

The ruffian kept up his abuse and called Bug all manner of vile names until he was compelled to stop for sheer want of breath.

Bug came down to Hocker and Jeffries and stood before them.

"Look here," he said hoa.r.s.ely, "what that rascal says ain't true--at least the most of it ain't. What part I had in stealin' the boat I've made amends fur already, and now I'm willing to do a good deal more. A little while ago I felt kinder sorry for Moxley because me an' him has been together a good part of the summer. But when a man goes back on an old friend, an' calls him bad names, an' tries to get him into trouble by lyin', then I'm done with that man fur good.

"I'd sooner see him in jail now than runnin' loose, an' if you give me a fair show an' take these irons off, I'll find a way to get into that mill and capture the mean rascal. He's more'n half drunk now, and I'm a good deal stronger than I look. When the chance comes I'll know how to use it. I'm talkin' on my honor now, an' mean what I say. You needn't be afraid to turn me loose. I can't escape if I'd want to. You know that."

CHAPTER XXVII

THE BURNING OF THE MILL

There was no mistaking the sincerity of Bug's proposal, and coming, as it did, at a time when Hocker and Jeffries were unable to decide on any feasible plan of action, they were disposed to give a favorable answer.

"It ain't a bad idea," said Jeffries. "But how do you expect to get in without being seen?"

"I'll find a way," returned Bug. "There air plenty of holes an' loose boards."

"An' Moxley is watchin' them all, too," remarked Hocker. "Your plan ain't very definite so far."

Bug hesitated, and before he could reply something occurred that totally changed the situation.

"I see you again, you rascal," came the farmer's voice from the hillside. "You can't fool me. Get away from that winder now."

Hocker and Jeffries exchanged glances of mutual understanding. The latter quickly unlocked the bracelets and freed Bug's wrists.

"Now's your chance," he whispered. "Moxley is on the second floor. Slip in before he comes down. There's a loose board just below that middle window. There ain't time for more than one to get in or we'd follow you. When you need us sing out. Here, take this."

He pressed a pistol into Bug's hand, and the latter bounded noiselessly up the slope. He reached the mill, drew the lower end of a loose plank a foot from its place, and vanished through the orifice.

Let us follow Bug on his perilous quest. Not until he was fairly inside, and crawling on hands and knees over the rickety floor, did he realize the great danger that lay in what he had undertaken to do. For an instant he trembled with fear, and then the memory of his wrongs steeled his heart and nerves.

A sudden noise overheard caused him to crouch midway on the floor. A moment later the stairway creaked, and Moxley began to descend. His progress could be noted as he pa.s.sed the crevices in the wall.

Bug lay motionless, wondering what he should do next. The possibility of being discovered made him tremble violently. He quite forgot that he had a pistol.

Moxley had now reached the floor, and with cautious steps he moved along the wall toward the lower corner.

Suddenly there was a sound of a heavy fall, followed by a volley of profanity, and the next instant something flew against the wall, and was shivered to fragments that fell with a tinkling noise.

"He's tipped over a bottle," thought Bug, "and now he's smashed it because he's mad. That's like Moxley."

This haphazard guess was absolutely correct. All was silent for a second or two after the gla.s.s had fallen; then Moxley grumbled in an audible tone: "Confound the luck! I hope that wasn't my whisky bottle. It ain't in my pocket."

Of such dire import did the question seem to the ruffian that he ventured to strike a match--little dreaming what the impulse would cost him.

Bug's heart beat wildly when he heard the crack and saw the light flash through the darkness. He jammed the pistol into his pocket and rose on his hands and knees.

Moxley was standing before the sawdust heap with his face to the wall.

As the match flared up he dropped the gun and seized a greenish bottle that was lying at his feet.

"Here's luck!" he muttered contentedly. "It was the oil bottle I brought from the canoes that got in my way."

He lifted the fiery poison to his lips, still holding the burning match between the fingers of his other hand, and remained in this att.i.tude for a brief moment.

Bug stood erect and moved across the floor with the caution of a creeping tigress. Nearer and nearer he came, and when less than four feet separated him from his intended victim, Moxley heard some slight noise and wheeled around.

Bug was on him with one spring, and down they fell with a great crash, and rolled in furious strife over the shaking floor--Bug crying for help at the top of his voice, Moxley uttering hoa.r.s.e threats and imprecations.

Blinded with rage they did not observe that the burning end of the match had fallen on the very spot where the widely scattered kerosene oil was most plentiful. Even when the hissing blue flames spurted up and licked the rubbish on all sides with greedy tongues, they fought on desperately, now one uppermost, now the other, as they verged toward the center of the floor.

When Hocker and Jeffries burst into the mill, followed by Ned and Abner, the conflagration was beyond control. The flames were devouring the planking of the wall with a great roaring and crackling, spreading on each side and to the floor above.

The scene was one long to be remembered. The cries of the struggling men on the floor mingled with the furious kicking and shouting that came from the imprisoned boys in the closet, and amid all the din and confusion the farmer rushed down from the hillside and battered his way into the mill with the b.u.t.t end of his gun.

Fright gave Moxley the strength of a madman, and by a determined effort he tore loose from his plucky a.s.sailant, and springing to his feet started to run. He struck Hocker, who jumped in front of him, a furious blow that sent him reeling backward, but before he could make use of his advantage, he tripped on a log, and came down heavily.