CHAPTER X — A Sudden Separation

When Mike Murphy hurried off the opposite end of the porch of the bungalow, his single purpose was to rid himself of Hoke Butler, who had set his heart upon keeping him company for the day. It was a happy thought thus to send the youth to collect an imaginary debt from Alvin Landon, and it would seem could scarcely fail of accomplishing the end in view.

“The spalpeen can thravel a good deal faster then mesilf, owing to the lingth of his legs, but I’ve got too good a start for him to find me among the traas.”

Mike still walked fast, often glancing behind and more and more relieved that he failed to gain sight of a living person, or rather of him whom he dreaded to see.

“Hello, Mike, where are you?”

The youth appealed to almost leaped from the ground, for the familiar voice sounded much too near for comfort.

“I’m here just now,” muttered Mike, “but I don’t intind to stay. Worrah, worrah, is there no way of shaking ye loose?”

The shout was repeated twice and then ceased. It looked as if Hoke believed he was too far separated from his friend to reach him by calling, though he was not likely to give up the search for some time to come. Mike changed his course and in doing so came near losing himself. It was impossible in the circumstances to go far astray, but he was likely to waste a good deal of time.

Coming to a halt he took his bearings. He knew he was well to the westward of the bungalow and not far from the lake. He was sure also, after noting the position of the sun, of the course he should follow to reach the body of water. His plan was to keep along shore until he came to the western end of the lake, around which he would make his way if necessary, returning by the northern bank which would take him past the home of Dr. Spellman. The conviction, however, was strong with the young man that he would not be called upon to travel that far before gaining the knowledge which was drawing him onward as the steel draws the magnet.

When he had traveled far enough to bring him to the lake and still failed to catch the gleam of its surface, he halted once more and stared around.

“If I’m lost agin I’ll hire some of the byes to lead me about by the hand, fur I ain’t fit to travel alone—hello! there’s one of ’em, that I’ll question without letting him know I’m a stray lamb.”

He had a glimpse of a moving body almost directly ahead, and knowing it was one of the scouts he called:

“I wish to remark, me friend, that it’s a foine day; if ye agraa wid me I shall be plaised to have ye signerfy the same.”

“Why, Mike, I’m so glad to see you again; you ain’t mad because I got lost?”

“Oh, not a bit, as Jim O’Toole said whin the sheriff apologized for shooting him on the wing.”

And Mike extended his hand to Hoke Butler as he came grinningly forward.

“How was it ye missed me?” asked Mike innocently.

“I’ll be hanged if I can tell; I hurried back after talking to Alvin and ought to have found you, but somehow or other I didn’t.”

“Why didn’t ye holler?”

“I nearly split my throat calling to you.”

“Strange! I wonder if I’m getting deaf.”

“Gracious! I hope not; don’t say that or you’ll worry me awfully.”

“Did Alvin hand ye the five dollars?”

“Not a bit of it. Say, Mike, they must be blamed poor, for they had only a Canadian quarter between them. I don’t think they amount to much.”

Mike couldn’t stand this slur upon his chums.

“Let me tell ye something that will make ye open yer eyes. Alvin Landon’s father is one of the richest men in New York, and Chester’s is almost as wealthy. They are worth millions upon millions of dollars, and the byes have all the money they want, but they are not such fules as you and me and don’t throw it away, though they give a good deal of it to poor folks. So ye may rist aisy on that score, friend Hoke.”

“Gee! I never suspected that. They don’t put on any more airs than the poorest of the Boy Scouts.”

“Which the same shows their sinse; they’ve always been that way and always will be. But this isn’t tending to bus’ness. Do ye wish to keep company wid me till night?”

“You bet! I’m going to stick to you like a burr; I hope you haven’t any hard feelings on account of my losing you for a little while. I really didn’t mean it.”

“It’s mesilf that has no hard feelings, but I was thinking that if we don’t get back to the clubhouse till night ye will be obliged to lose your dinner.”

“I don’t like that much, but I’ll stand it for your sake. I’ll even things up at the supper table. A Boy Scout should learn to suffer when it can’t be helped.”

“I’ve found out the same,” replied Mike with a significance which his companion did not catch; “I hope we shan’t starve to death.”

“No danger of that,” remarked Hoke, not absolutely certain that some such calamity did not threaten them.

Mike Murphy like a philosopher made up his mind to accept the inevitable. It seemed to be decreed by fate that he should have this young man as a companion throughout at least this day, so what was the use of kicking against it? Besides, it was not impossible that where there was so much eagerness on the part of Hoke to help, he might be able to do so in the strange task Mike had laid out for himself.

One pleasing fact about the intruder was that he never lost his way. He pointed out the direction in which the lake lay and Mike took care not to let him know he himself had believed that an altogether different course led to it. Pausing on the shore they looked out upon one of the most beautiful and romantic bodies of water to be found in a region which abounds with them. Both saw the canoe laden deeply with three men which was heading for a point to the westward of Dr. Spellman’s home. The boys studied it closely, but the distance was too great to identify the old man, and his companions were strangers.

Mike had told young Butler nothing of his experience of the day before, nor did he do so now. Whatever Hoke was able to do in the way of aid he could accomplish as well while ignorant as if he knew everything.

“Would it be too far, Hoke, for ye to walk wid me round the end of the lake to the spot where the canoe wint from sight?”

“It’s a pretty good walk, Mike, but it’s nothing so long as I am with you. I can’t think of anything I wouldn’t do to please you.”

“I could, but I’ll not mintion it,” grinned Mike as they resumed their course with Hoke in the lead.

The forenoon was half gone when they came to the western end of the lake and changed their course so as to follow the curvature that would take them to the northern shore. All the time they were in sight of the water, which they examined at intervals in quest of other boats. While the home of Dr. Spellman, as we remember, was invisible from the lake, it was easy to locate it by the thin wisp of smoke which filtered through the tree-tops. The same could have been said of Uncle Elk’s cabin had there been any fire burning.

“I am thinking, Mike,” remarked Hoke some time later, “that if you intend to go clean round the lake we haven’t any time to throw away.”

“We kin take all day and the night, should the same be nicissary, but there’s no call to hurry and if ye find yersilf growing weary, ye have me permission to turn back whin the notion takes ye.”

“We have gone so far that I don’t see much choice in taking either direction. I say, Mike, isn’t that something queer ahead of us?”

“I’d like to know where ye could be without something qua’ar being ahead of ye,—begora! I belave ye are right,” added Mike in surprise. An object loomed up which he had not seen before nor had he heard any one speak of it, though he and others had been in the neighborhood more than once.

At a point where the undergrowth was plentiful and less than a hundred yards back from the shore, were the ruins of what probably had once been a fisherman or hunter’s cabin. Long before the present time, some party had erected these rude quarters as a refuge during cold or stormy weather only to abandon them for more inviting protection. The ruins were simply four walls of logs hardly a dozen feet square and less than half as high. If there had once been a roof, it had disappeared long since. No door was visible from where the boys stood.

“It reminds me of the Castle of Donleigh, which I niver obsarved,” remarked Mike after they had stood for some minutes.

“I think some one started to put up a cabin such as Uncle Elk did, but changed his mind before he built a roof. Maybe it was Uncle Elk himself.”

“Aither him or somebody ilse; let’s look further.”

Instead of going nearer, the two slowly circled the ruins, keeping a little way from them. When the circuit was completed the surprising fact became known that nothing in the nature of a door had been made by those who laid the logs. Manifestly the structure had been abandoned before it was half finished.

“It’s easy to raise yourself high enough to look inside,” suddenly remarked Hoke; “I’m going to have a peep. Wait here till I come back.”

He ran to the side of the pile, with Mike slowly following. The latter gripped his shillaleh firmly, but was moving so slowly that he had not passed a third of the distance when Hoke inserted the toe of one foot in a lower crevice, sprang lightly upward and seized the topmost log with both hands. This raised his head above the barrier, and in the same minute Mike saw a hand thrust forward from the inside, grasp the collar of his companion’s coat and violently yank him out of sight.

CHAPTER XI — An Unsatisfactory Interview

Mike Murphy was never more astounded in his life.

“He oughter said good-bye before he took that dive,” exclaimed the youth, who was not the one to stand idle when a companion, even one whom he did not specially fancy, was in danger. Mike’s chivalry was roused, and with no thought of the consequences to himself, he ran to the help of the other lad. His shillaleh was firmly grasped in his left hand, and held ready for instant use, for nothing seemed more probable than that the weapon would be quickly needed.

Mike was sure that if he imitated Hoke, he would be seized in the same way. He therefore hurried lightly to the opposite side of the pile, where as silently as he could, he thrust the toe of his shoe into the crevice between the lower logs, gave a spring, caught hold of the upper tier, and drew himself upward.

Buzby Biggs, one of the tramps whom we have met, was sitting on the ground inside the crude cabin and punching his stubby forefinger into the bowl of his corncob pipe, with a view of tamping the tobacco and making it ready to light, when the sound of voices outside caused him to suspend operations. He rose to his feet, intending to peep through a small opening of which he knew when he heard the scratching made by Hoke’s shoes as he climbed the low wall. Angered by the intrusion upon his privacy, he waited until the head of the lad rose to view, when he proceeded to act as has been described.

Hoke was too startled to make any outcry or resistance. The violence of his debut caused him to sprawl forward on his hands and knees and his hat fell off. He instinctively picked it up and replaced it on his head.

“What do yer mean by butting into a gentleman’s private residence without ringing the bell or sending in your card?” demanded Biggs, who finding himself confronted by only one lad, could feel no misgiving as to his own safety.

“Gee! I didn’t know you were here,” replied Hoke, alarmed over the strange situation in which he was caught.

“That don’t make no difference,” replied the hobo, who seemed to be trying to work himself into a passion; “yer showed yer ain’t used to perlite sassiety and I allers makes a feller pay for the privilege of coming into the castle of the Duke de Sassy.”

Poor Hoke was scared almost out of his wits. He began fumbling in his pockets.

“How much is the charge? I haven’t got more’n two or three dollars with me.”

“In that case, it will take all and that ere watch which I persoom is tied to t’other end of the chain dangling in front.”

“Why that would be robbery!” exclaimed the lad, indignant at the impending outrage.

“I wouldn’t call it that, younker; rayther it’s the toll yer hef to pay for crossin’ this bridge. So yer may as well shell out first as last.”

As Hoke stood, his back was against the side of the wooden wall over which he had just tumbled, with the tramp scowling and malignant, facing him. Thus, as will be noted, Biggs was on the side of the structure up which Mike Murphy had climbed so silently that no one heard him. Hoke in fact began to rally from his panic and was on the point of shouting for help when he saw the end of Mike’s buckthorn cane, gripped in his left hand, slide up into view, instantly followed by the hat and red, freckled countenance of the Irish youth, who remained motionless for a moment, while he peered at the curious picture below him.

Before Hoke could utter the glad words on his tongue, Mike shook his head as a warning for him to hold his peace. The other caught on and did not look directly at his friend, but straight into the face of the tousled scamp. Mike was so clearly in his field of vision that Hoke saw every movement and even the expression of the face which was never more welcome.

The next instant one knee of Mike rested on the topmost log, then the foot slid over and he perched firmly on the top with his shillaleh transferred to his right hand.

The sight of his friend heartened Hoke.

“You can’t have my watch and chain, and I sha’n’t give you a penny! You have no more right here than I, and you daresen’t lay a hand on me.”

“What’s that? what’s that?” demanded the other, taking a step forward and thrusting out his ugly visage; “I guess it’s time I teached you something.”

“Aisy there, Misther Biggs; I think it’s mesilf will hev something to say ’bout this.”

The hobo whirled about and confronted the Irish lad, seated on the top of the wall and grasping his heavy cane.

“Where did yer come from?” growled the tramp, who ought not to have been frightened by the presence of two sturdy youths.

Mike made the Boy Scout salute.

“From Tipperary, county of Tipperary, Ireland. Would ye be kind enough to exchange cards wid me?” and he pretended to search in his pocket for that which he never carried. “Clarence, me noble friend,” added Mike, addressing Hoke Butler, “ye may as well withdraw from this palatial residence, as me friends used to say when laving our shanty at home.”

Hoke was instant to seize the opportunity thus presented. He clambered up the logs with the vivacity of a monkey, scooted over the wall, dropped to the ground and then made off at the highest bent of his speed. He did not seem to think he was deserting a friend in extremity and after that friend had been quick to rush to his relief.

A glance behind told Mike the truth, whereat he was displeased, though he did not show it by his manner. It was not so bad, however, as at first appeared. Hoke had run only a little way when the cowardice of what he was doing halted him as abruptly as he had started.

And then it was that an inspiration seized him. Questioning the wisdom of him and Mike bearding, as may be said, the lion in his den, Hoke made a pretence that help was near. He shouted at the top of his voice:

“Dr. Spellman! Here we are! Why don’t you hurry up?”

It was pure good fortune that led Hoke thus to appeal to the only person whom the hobo held in dread, for the youth knew nothing of what had occurred previously. He was doubtful about calling upon Uncle Elk, and another Boy Scout did not seem a formidable enough reinforcement. Scout Master Hall would have served, but Hoke did not think of him.

Mr. Buzby Biggs heard the shouted words and could not forget that the physician was the owner of firearms and did not seem reluctant to use them. Although the two vagrants had been spared, it was doubtful whether mercy would be shown them again. Despite his attempt to bluff, the tramp could not repress a tremor in his voice.

“What’s he calling that ’ere doctor fur?”

“I think he remarked a remark about telling him to hurry up. Av coorse ye will be glad to meet the docther agin.”

“Not by a blamed sight; him and me don’t speak as we pass by.”

“He prefers to spake wid his revolver, I belave.”

Mike had been instant to read the trick of Hoke, and he helped all he could. Biggs was in such a fright he could not hide it. The last person in the world whom he wished to meet was the medical man. He turned to imitate the action of Hoke Butler.

“Howld on! None of that!” commanded Mike in such a peremptory voice that Biggs with hands on the logs in front and one foot raised, checked himself and looked around.

“What do yer want?” he growled; “hain’t I a right to leave my home when I please?”

“Which is what Jimmy Jones said when the sheriff stopped him as he was breaking-jail. You don’t want to bump up agin the docther whin he has that pill box in his hand. See here, Biggs, I’ll let you go on one condition.”

“What’s that?” growled the other.

“Yesterday when ye and t’other scamp was paddling off in the canoe ye stole, ye made a sudden dive overboord and swum fur shore; by yer manner I knowed ye wouldn’t run the risk of taking a bath if ye hadn’t been scared out of what little wits ye had.”

“It would have been the same with yer, if yer’d seen what we did.”

“If ye’ll tell me what ye obsarved, ye may lave whin you choose and I’ll give ye me pledge that Docther Spellman won’t harm ye.”

“All right; I’ll tell yer as soon as I git outside this place.”

“You can’t wait till then; ye must give me the sacret while ye are standing there. If ye don’t I won’t interfare wid the docther working his will.”

An expression of dread passed over the repulsive face and the man actually shivered.

“Wai, whin me and Saxy was going along in the canoe we borrered wid me paddling, I happened to look down into the clear water and my eyes rested upon—the devil himself!”

Mike Murphy was taken aback for the moment by this amazing reply. His first thought was that the hobo was trifling with him, but, if so, his acting could not have been better. Astounding as was his declaration the man believed his own words which conveyed no meaning to the youth.

“Worra now, don’t ye understand it?”

“No; do yer?”

“That clear water sarves like a looking glass. Whin ye looked down ye obsarved yer own image and I don’t wonder ye took it for owld Nick.”

“But Saxy seed the same as I did,” replied the man, impressed by the not complimentary explanation of the lad who was perched on top of the log wall.

“It was his picter that he saan and aich of ye luks more like t’other than he does like himsilf.”

Biggs shook his head. This wouldn’t do.

“It wasn’t like a man at all.”

“What did it luk like?”

Mike was excited. He felt he was on the eve of clearing up the mystery which had baffled him and others, though not Uncle Elk, who would say nothing.

Instead of giving an intelligent reply to the question for a further bill of particulars, the tramp shuddered as before. There was a whine in his voice when he spoke:

“Didn’t I answer yer as I agreed? What are yer kicking about?”

“Ye’ve got to do more than that afore I asks the docther not to p’int his gun this way and pull the trigger.”

“Have yer ever seed the devil?”

“Not afore I looked upon yersilf.”

“Then how do yer expict me to describe him? He was there right under the canoe and almost close enough to grab us.”

“Did he hev horns and a spiked tail?”

Mike had heard the sound of footsteps behind him on the leaves. Some one was approaching and he was sure it was Hoke Butler coming back to his help.

Biggs made no reply to the frivolous question of the youth seated above him. The taint of superstition in his nature resented such treatment of a theme which had nothing but terror to him. Mike, certain that he commanded the situation and was about to learn that which he yearned to know, felt that he need not haste.

“Ye’ll hev to do better than that, Signor Biggs, but as ye saam to prefer that the docther should take ye in hand I’ll turn ye over to him.”

And Mike turned to wink at Hoke Butler, but to his dismay, discovered in the same moment that his friend was not in sight, and the one who had come up behind him was Saxy Hutt, the other tramp.

CHAPTER XII — Groping After the Truth

Mike Murphy’s ready wit did not desert him at the moment when, as may be said, he discovered he was caught between two fires. One of the tramps was standing on the ground in front or below him, while the second was approaching from the rear or only a few paces farther off. And Hoke Butler, who should have been instant to rush to the help of his friend, was nowhere in sight.

“I say, docther, why don’t ye hurry up?” shouted Mike, as if calling over the head of the grinning hobo, whose eyes were fixed upon him with a dangerous expression, as if he had decided to even up matters for previous humiliations.

The peremptory manner of the lad produced its effect, and Saxy Hutt paused and looked up at him. A scratching, rattling noise caused Mike to turn his head. Biggs was furiously climbing the logs on the other side. Grasping the topmost one, he dived over, sprawling upon his hands and knees, instantly leaping to his feet, and making off at the speed he had shown in his former flight. He evidently believed in the near approach of the man whom he dreaded.

Mike swung around on his perch, so that his feet hung outside, and gazed calmly down upon the repulsive face.

“The top of the morning to ye, Saxy,” greeted the lad; “I hope ye are well.”

“Huh! yer needn’t try that bluff on us,” growled the scamp; “it won’t work; thar ain’t no doctor round these parts and I wouldn’t care a hang if there was. I owe you one, younker, and I’m going to take it out of your hide.”

To tell the truth, Mike was pleased to hear this declaration. Biggs, whom he regarded as the worst of the couple, had taken himself off and need not be considered further, so that it was one against one, and the youngster had a firm grip on his shillaleh. With a fair field and no favor Mike was content to let the best man win.

The tramp came nearer, clenched his fists and glared upward at the youth.

“Come down out of that and I’ll wring your neck fur yer.”

“Step a little closer, so I can reach ye wid a single jump.”

Mike was actually gathering his muscles for a leap that would have brought on a fight as vicious as that of two wildcats, when the tense stillness was broken by the words:

“Right this way, doctor; you’ll find them both here, your shots can’t miss.”

Now the peculiarity of this remark was that although plainly heard, it sounded as if the speaker meant that only the man at his side should catch his words. And it was at this juncture that Hoke Butler did a thing so clever that it won the everlasting admiration of Mike Murphy. The former dropped his voice several notes, so that one unacquainted with the facts, would have been certain it was another who was speaking.

“Show me a sight of them—just for a minute: that’s all I ask!”

Mike heard and understood. Saxy heard and misunderstood,—that is he believed it was the physician who was looking for him with a loaded weapon in hand. He muttered an exclamation which it will never do to print, plunged around the log structure, and disappeared with a speed that must have quickly overhauled the other tramp.

Mike dropped lightly to the ground and confronted the chuckling Hoke.

“Worra! but ye did that well. Where is the docther?”

“How should I know? I suppose he’s at his home.”

“What put it into yer head to make believe he was near us?”

“I don’t know except he was the first person I thought of.”

“Ye couldn’t have done better if ye had took a month. I don’t understand why thim tramps hang round so much whin they know what they’re likely to git from Dr. Spellman.”

Mike now told Hoke of the surprising incidents of the preceding day, when the hobos received the scare of their lives.

“This one who calls himsilf Biggs told me that whin he looked over the side of the canoe, he found himsilf face to face wid the devil.”

“Do you think he did, Mike?”

“I have me doubts, as Jerry Jinks said whin Father MacMahon declared he was an honest man. Anyhow I haven’t larned what I wanted to know, and we’ve got to look farther.”

It was decided to pass around the western end of the lake, circling back in the direction of Dr. Spellman’s home, past the cabin of Uncle Elk and go on to the bungalow. This was likely to take most of the day, even if they were not delayed by some unexpected occurrence. Moreover, this course would take them by the spot where Mike had heard voices the night before, and where the hermit darted out from under the overhanging vegetation on his return, going so near the startled Mike that the two saw each other. The old man and his visitors appeared to have gone thither, and it would seem that something ought to be doing.

“Would you like to know what my idea is?” asked Hoke, when they resumed their tramping on the line that has been indicated.

“I’m that anxious to know that I won’t take anither step till ye ixplains the same.”

And Mike, who was a few paces in advance, halted abruptly, wheeled about and faced his companion, who grinningly responded:

“It is that we keep going till we reach Dr. Spellman’s house and accept his invitation to dinner.”

“Suppose we don’t get the invitation,” suggested Mike.

“I should like to see him avoid giving it, even if the dinner hour is past, which it is likely to be before we can reach his place.”

Mike’s rugged health and sturdy strength gave him as keen an appetite as that of his companion, and a good meal would be as welcome to him-as to Hoke. Moreover, the situation was such that they could hardly hope to reach the clubhouse before nightfall. He therefore inclined to the plan of calling at the house where they were sure of welcome, but it will be borne in mind that in order to do this, they would have to give over or at least postpone the investigation they had intended to make at the point where Mike had heard voices and seen Uncle Elk the night before, since this lay to the westward of the physician’s camp.

Accordingly the youths turned deeper into the wood, going well beyond sight of the lake, intending to approach their destination by a circuitous course. Not wishing to run against Uncle Elk and the strangers, they made sure of not doing so.

You need not be reminded that one of the easiest things in the world is to lose your way in a wilderness. Mike Murphy seemed peculiarly subject to this misfortune, as has been shown in the previous pages. He kept in the lead, as he had done from the first, his friend quietly following and paying no attention to his own footsteps. By and by it struck Hoke that it was time they reached the doctor’s dwelling. He looked searchingly ahead and around, but saw nothing except the tall, column-like trunks, with considerable undergrowth here and there. Naught that resembled the most primitive dwelling was in sight, nor was there a sign of any person having passed that way.

“Hold on, Mike!” he called abruptly to his friend, and the latter halted and looked back.

“I’m doing that, and what is it ye want of me?”

“Where are we?” asked the puzzled fellow.

“I’m thinking we’re here, as I remarked whin I fell off the house. What do ye think?”

“Of course we are somewhere near Gosling Lake, but I believe we have strayed off and are lost.”

“It’s mesilf that don’t see how that can be, though I can beat any gentleman that walks on two legs in going the wrong way. The first time I started to go upstairs, I opened the cellar dure and bumped all the way to the bottom, and when I was faaling me way fur the cellar dure, I tumbled out the parlor windy. Then mither sent me on an errand to Widow Mulligan’s and instead of stepping onto the porch, I put my fut over the well curb and didn’t find out the difference till I hit the bottom of the well. So you see, Hoke, that that wakeness is my strongest p’int.”

“Where do you think the lake lies?”

“I’m not as far gone as that; head that way and you’ll walk straight onto the same.” Mike pointed his shillaleh to the left, whereupon his friend laughed.

“Just what I expected; you’re away off.”

“What do ye make it,—since you saam to think you can make no mistake?”

“I never lose my bearings,—you can depend on me. That direction leads to the lake.”

The joke of it was that Hoke instead of deviating more or less from the course pointed out by Mike, chose one that was the opposite.

“Are ye in airnest?” asked Mike.

“Never more so.”

“I’m glad to larn that, for I don’t like such jokes, as Jim O’Hara said whin the policeman broke his club over his head. Ye are wrong.”

“I’m positive I am not.”

“And I’m positive ye are,—and the only way to sittle the question according to common sinse is to toss up. What do ye say?”

“I don’t see how that can settle any question; but have it your own way.”

Mike took a Lincoln penny from his pocket and balanced it in his hand.

“If it comes down a hid, ye take my course; if a tail, yours.”

Hoke nodded to signify he agreed, and the other flipped the coin aloft, each watching as it turned over rapidly and fell upon the leaves between them, but lo! it rested on its edge, being supported vertically against a pine cone. In other words it was neither a head nor tail, but a “cock.”

Usage requires that in such a case a new toss must be made, but when Mike picked up the penny he shoved it into his pocket and shook his head.

“The maaning of that,” he explained, “is that we are both wrong.”

“How then shall we find the true course?”

“Make a guess, as I used to do in answering the taycher’s questions—Hist!”

Before the experiment could be made, they were startled by hearing the report of a gun or a pistol from some point not far off, though the direction was different from either that had been indicated.

As they listened, a second, third and fourth report rang through the forest arches, followed quickly by two more, and all was still.

There might be several explanations of the incident, but it was idle to spend time in guessing, when it was easy to learn the truth. Mike, followed by his friend, walked rapidly toward the point whence the reports had come, and a few minutes later everything was clear.

Dr. Spellman was standing in a space free from undergrowth and practising with his revolver. With his knife he had gashed the bark off a sapling several feet above the ground, so as to show a white spot the size of a dollar. Standing a dozen or more paces distant, he aimed carefully and put the whole six bullets within a spot not more than two inches in diameter, three of them being bull’s eyes.

“I couldn’t do better mesilf!” exclaimed Mike, when he understood the feat.

“You can’t tell till you try; I am not sure you are not an expert.”

“Nor am I, though I have me doubts.”

Having reloaded the weapon the doctor handed it to Mike, who slowly raised his arm to a level, shut one eye, and squinted some seconds over the short barrel, while the doctor and Hoke, standing a foot or two to the rear, kept their eyes upon the little white spot in the distance. Then a sharp crack sounded and the marksman lowered the pistol.

“Did ye obsarve where me shot landed?” he asked of his friends.

“I think it nipped the leaves somewhere overhead,” replied Hoke.

“I scorn to notice yer slur: what do ye say, docther?”

The physician said nothing, but walked to the sapling, the others trailing after him. Taking out his pocket knife, he began digging with the blade into the soft wood. From the very center of the white spot, he gouged out a pellet of lead, and held it out to Mike.

“That is yours; you made a perfect bull’s eye.”

“Av course; did ye doubt I would do the same?”

“Hooh! all chance! you can’t do it again,” called Hoke, uttering a truth that was as apparent to Mike as to the others.

“It’s yer turn,” replied the hero of the exploit; “do ye make the attempt yersilf; if ye can equal me, then I’ll take me turn again.”

CHAPTER XIII — The Committee of Investigation

Lightning seldom strikes twice in the same place, though I have known it to do so, and Mike Murphy was too wise to try a second shot, when there was not one chance in a million of repeating his feat. With his loftiest air he proposed that he and Hoke should take turns in displaying their skill.

“I’ve made a bull’s eye,—do the same or betther and I’ll take a whack and beat that,—and so it will go. Am I corrict, dochther, in me sintiments?”

“Undoubtedly; you can’t refuse Mike’s offer, Hoke.”

The latter saw he was caught and accepted the weapon as if eager for the test, though it need not be said it was otherwise. A vague hope stirred him that the same exceptional success might reward his effort. He aimed with the care and deliberation shown by Mike, and then pulled the trigger five times in rapid succession.

“One of the bullets will be sure to land,” was his sustaining thought, but nothing of the kind took place. Close examination by the three showed that Hoke had not so much as grazed the trunk of the sapling.

Neither Mike nor the doctor laughed, restrained from doing so by a chivalrous sympathy, for Hoke could not wholly hide his chagrin. Mike went so far as to say:

“Hoke, it was a chance shot on me part, and I couldn’t do it agin in my life time.”

“And now let us adjourn to dinner,” said the doctor; “it is later than usual, but the folks will wait for me.”

No words could be more welcome, but the fun of the proceeding was that the direction taken by the man showed that Hoke and Mike were both wrong—as the former had intimated—in locating the lake. The former grinned and the latter answered with a wink. The theme was one concerning which it was best to say nothing.

The call at the forest home of Dr. Spellman was so similar to what has been described that it need not be dwelt upon. Sunbeam showed her preference for the genial Irish youth, who certainly reciprocated her affection, as he did in the case of Nora Friestone, whom he had met the preceding summer farther up the Kennebec. The mother was always gracious and won the good opinion of every one with whom she was brought in contact.

When the meal was finished, and while mother and child were busy setting things to rights, the doctor talked with his guests. Mike made known all that had occurred since his previous meeting with the physician. The latter was much interested in the experience of that forenoon.

“I never saw that pile of logs, which is doubtless the remains of some fisherman or hunter’s cabin that either was never finished or has been allowed to fall into decay. I must add one thing, however,” said the doctor gravely; “I don’t like the way those tramps are acting.”

“It strikes me that about the only thing they are doing is getting scared half to death or swimming or running for life.”

“But why do they stay in this neighborhood? The hobo doesn’t take to the woods for long, though he may hide there when the officers make it too hot for him. What can there be in this part of the world that attracts them?”

“They may be looking for a chance to steal from the Boy Scouts,” suggested Hoke.

“The last persons two hobos would tackle. What chance would they have against twenty vigorous, active, fearless youths, who despite their peaceful principles are yearning for stirring adventure?”

“Then it must be you, doctor, that they have designs upon.”

“I half suspect as much; I have been considerate to them despite their insolence, more so than I shall be again if they annoy us further.”

Turning upon the youths, Dr. Spellman asked a question that fairly took away the breath of the two Boy Scouts.

“Has either of you seen Uncle Elk and those tramps together?”

Hoke was not sure he understood the question. Mike was shocked.

“Why should they be togither, docther, unless the spalpeens called at his cabin for food? Ye know his latchstring is always out, but I’ve niver known of their being in his company.”

“Didn’t you hear them laughing or talking last night, along shore, and not far from this spot?”

“Be the same token I heerd two men, but they were not the tramps.”

“How do you know that?”

“Uncle Elk told me so.”

There was reproof in Mike’s tones, for he resented the slightest reflection upon the hermit, whom he held in high regard. The doctor made no reply to the words of the youth, but smoked his cigar hard and seemed to be turning over something in his mind that was of a displeasing nature.

Mike knew of course of the unaccountable antipathy that Uncle Elk showed toward the physician who was spending his outing in this part of Maine. Alvin Landon and Chester Haynes were as much mystified as the Irish youth, and the doctor himself claimed to have no theory that would account for it. The last remark of the medical man sounded as if he reciprocated the dislike of the hermit. Not only that but doubtless he mistrusted him.

“You don’t seem any nearer the solution of the tramps’ behavior yesterday than you were at the time, and it looks to me as if you will have to wait until Uncle Elk is ready to tell you.”

“There saams no ither ch’ice, docther, though I’m riddy to make another try for the same. Will ye jine us?”

“No; there will be danger of Uncle Elk and me meeting, and I am no more anxious for it than he is. I don’t believe you will learn anything.”

“We sha’n’t by standing here, as Mickey Lanigan said whin the bull was charging down upon him—whisht! what have we now?”

Alvin Landon and Chester Haynes walked out of the wood and smilingly made the Boy Scout salute.

“Just in time not to be too late for dinner,” was the warm greeting of Dr. Spellman, as he shook hands with the lads. They protested that they could not permit his wife to bother with preparing a meal, when the regular one had been finished a short time before, but the hospitable host would not listen, and I am compelled to say the objections of the guests were not very vigorous. All entered and crowded themselves as best they could into the limited space.

As the two ate, Mike and Hoke told them of their experience at the western end of the lake earlier in the day, while the new arrivals had their own interesting story to relate. They had seen two strangers enter Uncle Elk’s cabin, only to depart soon after in his company, as the canoe was paddled away. The rather curious feature of this proceeding was that neither Mike nor Hoke, who had scanned the lake more than once, caught sight of the craft, and Dr. Spellman heard of it for the first time, though of necessity the canoe passed quite close to his home.

Whatever the thoughts of the physician may have been he kept them to himself. He had already expressed his distrust of Uncle Elk to Mike Murphy, who was quick to resent it, and it would be the same with Alvin and Chester, for they held the old man in too much esteem to listen with patience to anything in the way of censure of him.

It might have been difficult for the doctor to convince any unprejudiced person that there was the slightest understanding between the recluse or the vagrants. In fact, the only foundation for such a charge, not taking into account the mutual antipathy, was the knowledge which Uncle Elk showed of the cause of the hobos’ panic. And yet there was a reasonable explanation of such knowledge, which would have acquitted the old man of any improper motive, and it was singular that it did not occur to Dr. Spellman.

The explorers, as they may be called, now numbered four. With warm thanks to the members of the family they bade them good-bye and set out to continue their quest.

It will be borne in mind that the spot which they were to visit lay quite a little way to the westward of Dr. Spellman’s home. It was there that Mike Murphy had passed under the overhanging vegetation from which Uncle Elk soon afterward emerged, and where the Irish youth had detected the odor of a cigar and heard chuckling laughter. Mike and Hoke by pushing into the woods, and partly losing their way, had left this locality so far to one side that they saw nothing of it. The four now intended to make their way thither.

“Couldn’t it be that Uncle Elk wint back, while ye were thramping to the docther’s house?” asked Mike, as they straggled forward.

“There wasn’t fifteen minutes at a time that we were out of sight of the lake,” replied Alvin; “we surely should have seen him.”

“He might have come back through the woods.”

“That is true,” said Chester, “but I see no reason why he should do so.”

“Doesn’t the same gintleman do lots of things for which we see no raison?”

“Far more than we can understand. Now I have been wondering whether he won’t be offended by our trying to pry into matters which should not concern us.”

“I think it is the other way,” said Alvin; “he is amused by our curiosity, and doesn’t tell us the secret because he enjoys our efforts to discover it for ourselves.”

“And there’s no saying how long his fun will last,” commented Mike, who because of his previous visit to this section took upon himself the part of guide.

They had tramped less than half an hour when Mike halted and looked about him with a puzzled air.

“We oughter to be there,” he remarked, “but it saams we’re somewhere ilse.”

Alvin pointed to where the undergrowth, a short distance in advance, was less abundant than in other places.

“There seems to be a wagon track that has been traveled lately.”

Hurrying over the few paces, they found the supposition correct. There were the ruts made by wagon wheels and the deep impression of horses’ hoofs. The greatest wonder was how any team could drag a vehicle through such an unbroken forest. Trees stood so close together that there seemed hardly room for a wheelbarrow to be shoved between, and yet a heavily laden wagon had plunged ahead, crushing down bushes and even small saplings, with the hubs scraping off the bark from large trunks, but ever moving undeviatingly in the direction of Gosling Lake.

“It’s the trail of the chuck wagon!” exclaimed Chester; “it brings our supplies that are taken across to the bungalow.”

“And this is the day for it,” added Alvin, who had scarcely uttered the words when a threshing of the wood was heard, accompanied by the sharp cracking of a whip and a resounding voice:

“Gee up! Consarn you, what’s the matter with you? You’re purty near there!”

Two powerful horses, tugging at a ponderous open wagon piled high with boxes of supplies, labored into sight, while the driver, a lean, sandy-haired man perched on the high seat, snapped his whip, jerked the lines, clucked and urged the animals to do their best, which they certainly did.

The boys stepped aside out of the way of the team, and saluted the driver as he came opposite and looked down upon them. He nodded, but nothing more, for his animals required his attention. Our young friends fell in or followed the wagon to the edge of the lake only a brief distance away, where the driver flung his reins to the ground and leaped down. He was bony, stoop-shouldered, without coat or waistcoat, and had his trousers tucked into the tops of his cowhide boots.

“Say, I see by your dress you b’long to the Boy Scouts,” he remarked, addressing the whole party.

“We are proud to say we do,” replied Alvin.

“And the Boy Scouts be proud to have us belong to ’em,” added Mike.

“I should think they would be blamed proud of you,” said the man with a grin.

“Your perciption of the truth is wonderful, as me mither exclaimed whin Father Meagher said I was the purtiest baby in Tipperary.”

“And you chaps believe in doing a good turn every day to some person?”

“Right again.”

“What good turn have you done anybody to-day?”

“Modesty kaaps our lips mute,” replied Mike, who for the life of him could not recall a single incident of the nature named.

“Wal, would you like to do me a good turn?”

“We certainly shall be glad,” Alvin took upon himself to reply.

“Help me unload this wagon; the stuff is for the Boy Scouts, so you’ll be helping yourselves.”