  “Go ahead it is,” responded the skipper. “I can be ready in five minutes. Can you?” “We’re ready now,” said John quickly. “You know how it is,” said the captain. “Most always the passengers, if they want anything to eat on the way, put it on board before we start.” “Well, we cannot get anything to eat,” said Fred. “We told you why.” “So you did. So you did,” said the captain again speaking in his high nasal tones. “Still I guess we’ll be hungry before night. Maybe I can find something. You boys wait here until I go up the street and I’ll be back in a few minutes.” When he had thus spoken the ungainly man took a basket on his arm and at once set forth on his errand. Left to themselves the boys went on board the strange craft and the hasty inspection they made did not increase their confidence either in the boat or in its owner. “It’s about the only way there is,” said John at last, “and we’ve got to take it. It’s Hobson’s choice. We can’t stay here and we can’t get passage on the big boats so we’ll have to put up with what we can get.” “Next week,” said Fred lightly, “we’ll all be laughing about it. I wouldn’t mind this adventure at all if I was sure Grant and George are all right. Every time I think of them I’m worried when I remember what you and I went through. If that boat hadn’t come along just as it did we might be at the bottom of Lake Huron.” “Well, we are not there,” said John quickly. “The fact is we are here and we wish we weren’t. If the other fellows were along with us I would like to go out yonder and shoot those rapids,” he said pointing toward the swift rapids that were not far away. Even while he was speaking a skiff, guided by an Indian, came swiftly through the tossing waters and approached the shore not far from the place where the boys were seated. “That’s right,” joined in Fred heartily. “I have a good mind to try it as it is.” “I guess you’ll have to wait until you get your fortune changed so that you can pay a man a half-dollar for letting you shoot the rapids in his skiff.” “You’re right, of course,” said Fred. “I never realized before what a convenience it is to have some change in your pocket. Never again will I go out for a day’s trip, no matter where it is, without having something in my purse.” “You mean as long as your father or some one else puts it in your purse.” “No, I don’t mean anything of the kind,” retorted Fred. “You don’t suppose I am always going to be dependent, do you?” “I hadn’t thought very much about it,” laughed John. “If you want my opinion, it is that—” Whatever John’s judgment might be it was not expressed at the time for at that moment the tall skipper was seen returning to the dock. “Well, I got enough to stay our stomachs a little while,” said the captain as he swung the basket from his arm and deposited it under one of the seats in the motor-boat. “It isn’t the best kind and what such stylish young gentlemen as you be are used to.” It was plain to both boys that the skipper had not taken their explanations seriously and that he still was doubtful as to their real purpose. However, he did not refer to his suspicions and in a brief time he had the motor-boat ready to set forth on its long voyage. For a brief time after the boys departed from Sault Ste. Marie their interest in the sights along the nearby shores was so keen that their own plight in a measure was forgotten. Several times the little boat was tossed by the waves that were upturned by the passage of some large freight boat. Occasionally they were hailed by people on board, for in the summer-time many of these freight boats carried a few passengers, making a delightful trip through the great lakes. “I guess,” said the skipper, at last turning to the boys, “that the best way for me to do will be to go down through St. Mary’s River and then strike into the North Channel. I’ll keep close to the shore of Drummond Island and then I’ll come around to Cockburn Island that way.” “Your tub,—I mean your motor-boat,” said Fred correcting himself quickly, “doesn’t seem to be making very fast time.” “It’s fast enough,” said the skipper quietly. “Time ain’t much use to me. Some folks say time is money. If I had as much money as I had time I wouldn’t be carrying two young sprints like you down through Mud Lake.” “How long do you think you’ll be before we land at Mackinac Island?” inquired Fred. “Not knowing, I can’t say,” replied the captain. “My general feeling is that if we make it by day after to-morrow we’ll be doing mighty well.” “What do you mean?” demanded John blankly. “I mean just what I say. I’m not going to drive my boat very hard and by the time we have gone down St. Mary’s River and into the North Channel and then around to Cockburn Island it will be some time before we can start for Mackinac.” “But where will we stay nights?” inquired Fred. “We’ll pick out a good place somewhere. I have got a canvas that stretches over the boat and will keep out the wind and we can crawl under that when it gets dark.” “But you haven’t enough for us to eat.” “Haven’t I?” said the skipper dryly. “That depends I guess a little on how much you want to eat. I have got some salt pork and potatoes and if you don’t like that diet all I can say is that you might have brought your own stuff.” The boys were silent as the reference to their poverty caused them both to realize how impossible it was for them to obtain even the common necessities of life, if they had no money with which to make their purchases. “Ever been over to Cockburn Island?” inquired the captain after a long silence. “Yes,” said John. “It’s a funny island.” “It isn’t so funny as the people on it.” “That’s what I thought,” laughed Fred. “Well, you weren’t thinking far wrong. I’ve been over to Cockburn Island every month ever since the ice went out of the lakes.” “What do you go for?” asked John. “If I don’t tell you then you won’t know, will you?” said the captain glancing shrewdly at the boys as he spoke. “I don’t suppose we shall,” acknowledged John. “I don’t mind tellin’ you that I don’t expect to go there many times more. I’m going to get even with that man.” “What man?” “Why, Mr. Halsey.” “Who is he?” “He’s the man that stays summers on Cockburn Island. Leastwise he stays there part of the time.” “Is he the man that has the little house that looks like an old shanty about a quarter of a mile back from the shore? Does he have a Japanese servant and is there a little barn back of the shanty?” “What do you know about that barn?” demanded the skipper turning abruptly about and staring at the boys. “We don’t know anything about it. I’m just telling you about the place and asking you if Mr. Halsey is the name of the man who lives there.” “I guess you’re all correct,” said the captain. “That’s his name and I guess that’s the place where he lives. He’s the man I was tellin’ you about.” “The one who employs you?” inquired John. “I don’t know whether he employs me or not. I work for him. He has got to live up to his promises better than he has though, or I’ll put him where he won’t do quite so much business as he has been doin’ this summer.” “What is his business?” “Don’t you wish you knew?” said the skipper. There was an expression in his eyes that indicated that the man was deficient. Indeed, Fred whispered to John, “I don’t believe the fellow is all there. I guess if you knocked on his head you’d find nobody home.” “He certainly looks the part,” agreed John, “but I want to find out more about Mr. Halsey, as he calls him.” “You didn’t tell us what business Mr. Halsey is engaged in,” added John as he turned once more to the skipper. “Of course I didn’t. That’s the question a good many folks would like to have answered.” “Does he have any business?” “Business! Business!” exclaimed the skipper. He had previously explained that his name was Rufus Blodgett and that he was commonly called Rufe by his passengers and friends. “He doesn’t work more than twelve hours a day, let me tell you, and he gets better pay than anybody around these diggins.” “And nobody knows what his business is?” “I know,” said Rufe, slyly winking as he spoke. “What is it?” “That’s tellin’. Maybe somebody will know pretty soon. At least I have wrote some letters that will be likely to put somebody on his track that he won’t like very much.” “Did you write those letters to Mr. Button?” demanded Fred. “What do you know about any letters?” said Rufe, his voice becoming very low as he spoke and the glitter again appearing in his narrow little eyes. “We saw them,” said Fred more boldly. “We mean the one that you signed ‘American Brother.’” “Who showed it to you?” said Rufe. “Beats all, I never supposed two such youngsters as you knew anything about them letters.” “What did you write them for?” asked John. “Didn’t I tell you this Mr. Halsey is makin’ all kinds of money? He agreed to divide with me and he hasn’t done it. I told him I would get even with him and you see if I don’t!” “Then he is a smuggler, is he?” inquired John. “You had better take my advice and not say that word very often around in these parts. I guess there ain’t any harm in a man buying somethin’ on one side o’ the lake and sellin’ it on the other.” “But there’s a law against it,” suggested Fred. “Nothin’ but a man-made law.” “What has that got to do with it?” asked John. “I don’t care nothin’ about man-made laws. I don’t find nothin’ in the Bible that says I mustn’t smuggle, as you call it. Mind you, I ain’t sayin’ I’m no smuggler, I’m just talkin’ on general principles.” “But you have not told us what Mr. Halsey smuggles.” “No, and I ain’t goin’ t’ tell you.” “Is that what you’re going to Cockburn Island now for?” “Don’t you wish you knew?” said Rufe, laughing as if he considered his question to be a good joke. “Did you say,” he continued, “that you had ever been out in the barn?” “We said we hadn’t been there,” replied Fred. “There’s a mighty good reason why you didn’t go, I guess.” “What’s that?” “That there watch dog o’ the Halseys. There was a fellow here once what was tellin’ about some dog that a man named Pluto kept. He said that dog had three heads and they all barked at the same time and all bit together.” “Did he tell you where Mr. Pluto lived?” asked Fred soberly. “No, he didn’t,” said Rufe. “Where does he live?” “Not very far from Cockburn Island, you’ll find if you don’t quit breaking the laws.” There were many conversations during the voyage similar to those which have been recorded, and the boys became more convinced that the strange skipper undoubtedly in some way was sharing in the experiences of the man whom they had met on Cockburn Island and whose name Rufe declared to be Halsey. The little motor-boat stopped for a time on the shore of Mud Lake. There the skipper cooked some of the potatoes and salt pork he had brought with him and the boys declared that never had they tasted food more delicious. |
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