“Well, we certainly are up against it—good and proper!” exclaimed Jack. “And I’m glad the girls aren’t along!”
“Why?” asked Walter, leaning back against the gunwale to rest after laboring over the refractory engine of the Dixie.
“Because they can’t call me down for my slang. And believe muh—as the telephone girls say—I can use slang now and then—some!”
“It is aggravating; isn’t it?” asked Dray.
“Aggravating, my dear chap, is hardly the word,” drawled Ed. “It’s humiliating!”
He brought that out in such a droll way that the others laughed.
For the engine of the motor boat still refused to be coaxed into going. They were being carried out toward the mouth of the bay on the outgoing tide, which was now running strongly. Soon they would be out to sea, and though the moon still shone brightly there was a haze in the sky that betokened a coming storm.
But it was not so much the fact of the stalled engine, nor that they were being carried out to sea, and were in some danger, that worried the boys.
“We’re falling down on what we said we’d do,” declared Jack. “We promised the girls that we’d save Denny from those fellows, and we can’t do it. They may be at him now.”
“We certainly saw a light at his cabin,” ventured Ed.
“But we can’t see it now,” added Jack, straining his eyes for a glimpse of the spot where the fisherman’s shack stood.
“Well, there’s no use worrying over what can’t be helped,” observed Walter, philosophically. “We’re here and not there. Denny will have to look out for himself—I guess he’s able.”
“That isn’t the point,” rejoined Jack. “There we took the case out of the girls’ hands, so to speak. We said we were the big noise, and that we’d look after things. Then we go and get stuck miles from shore where we can’t do a thing. They’ll laugh at us when we do get back, if they don’t do any worse.”
“But we didn’t know we were going to get stuck when we came out for a little run, after we found Denny wasn’t home,” said Dray.
“That’s no excuse,” returned Jack. “It’s like a child breaking the looking glass and then saying he didn’t mean to. Well, I know one thing Cora will say when we get back—if we ever do—and own up that we weren’t on hand when the play came off.”
“What will she say?” asked Dray. He was not well acquainted with the doings and sayings of the motor girls, as yet.
“She’ll say that she and Bess and Belle and the rest of them could have done better themselves, if we’d left it to them. And I guess she’d be more than half right,” sighed Jack.
“Well, there’s no use crying over a bridge before you come to it,” observed Dray. “Let’s have another go at that engine.”
They began their labors all over again. They even took out the spark plugs, though they had been new that afternoon.
Nothing could be found wrong there. The feed pipe from the gasoline tank was examined, but it seemed to provide a good flow. The timer was adjusted and readjusted. The coil was looked to. Everything, in short, that the boys could think of, or that previous trouble had taught them to look for, was tried, and all with no effect.
They even did more absurd things, such as the talcum powder act, while Jack spouted some Latin verses at the forward cylinder. But the motor refused to mote.
“And, all the while, we’re going out to sea,” remarked Walter.
“Out to sea to see what we can see,” said Jack.
“Oh, hush-a-bye-baby on the jokes,” exclaimed Dray, a bit petulantly. “If ever I buy a speed boat again you’ll know it! A good old-fashioned make-and-break motor for mine after this—one you can depend on.”
“Haven’t you an oar or a paddle?” asked Ed.
“Not a thing that we could use to work against the tide,” answered Dray, gloomily. “There’s a boat hook, but that isn’t any better than a straw. I left the oars out after the man got through fixing the motor to-day. He said I wouldn’t need them.”
“The regard that individual has for the truth is something scandalous!” said Walter, grimly. “I shall acquaint him with the fact on my return.”
“When we do return,” returned Jack, gloomily.
“Oh, we’re bound to be picked up—sooner or later,” declared Walter.
“Mostly later,” went on Jack, more gloomily.
“Well, here goes for another try,” said Dray.
“That’s right. Maybe the machine has just been giving us a try-out,” suggested Ed. “We certainly have said mean things about you, old Mote!” he went on sarcastically. “Kindly forgive us and go. ‘See by moonlight ’tis ’most midnight, time boat and us were home hour-and-a-half ago,’” he said, quoting from the old nursery rhyme.
But the motor only coughed and sighed and wheezed like an old man with the asthma, and the boat still drifted.
They called, they blew on the compressed air whistle until all the reserve supply of oxygen was exhausted from the tank, and then they had to resort to their voices again.
“Well, there’s one thing left,” answered Jack, tragically.
“What is it?” begged Ed.
“We can swim for it. That’s better than being carried out to sea. Let’s swim before it is too late.”
“That’s what I say!” exclaimed Dray. “Let the Dixie go—she’s no good!”
The others were considering Jack’s startling proposal, when Ed looked up, and exclaimed:
“Hark! Don’t you hear something?”
The others listened. Faintly from the direction of the sea came a sound—unmistakable.
“A boat!” cried Jack. “I’ll not take off my coat yet.”
“A motor boat, too,” added Ed.
“And coming this way,” went on Walter.
“Come on, fellows, give ’em a hail!” suggested Dray.
Up to now, with all their shouting and blowing of the whistle, they had neither seen nor heard of a craft. They had drifted too far out. If any had come within hearing distance the occupants had paid no heed to the calls for help. Now there was one approaching, that was evident.
“All together, now!” called Jack, and they united their voices in a shout.
“There are her lights!” called Dray.
“Yes, and she’s heading right over here,” agreed Ed.
A little later the red and green lights came nearer.
Then, as the craft surged up to the stalled Dixie, and came to a stop, the engine still running with the clutch thrown out, a voice asked:
“Do you fellows want a tow?”
“Do we?” came in a chorus. “We don’t want anything any more.”
“Fling us your rope,” was the curt order.
Unexpected help had arrived. But it was too late.
“What shall we do?” asked Cora, in a whisper.
“It is rather a puzzle,” admitted Bess.
The motor girls were standing outside Denny Shane’s cabin, looking in on him as he sat at his ease, with the red oar over his knees.
“He doesn’t seem to be in any danger,” went on Cora.
“No, those men either haven’t harmed him, or they haven’t arrived yet,” returned Belle.
“Oh, but suppose they should come while we are here?” suggested Marita, shrinking against Cora.
“Don’t go to supposing such uncanny things,” objected Cora, as she put her arm about the other. “Are you afraid?”
“I don’t know,” was the hesitating answer. “I suppose one ought to be afraid, coming at night to a cabin where some horrible men are expected. And yet, somehow, I don’t seem to be,” replied Marita. “I know I would have been a few months ago, but since I have met you girls, and seen the things you do, why it’s queer, but really I—I rather like it!” and she laughed.
“See what your influence has done,” whispered Cora.
They had all spoken in low tones, for Denny was sometimes sharp of hearing, and they did not want to arouse him.
The girls were really puzzled, not only at the peaceful surroundings at Denny’s cabin, but at the absence of the boys. Of course they could not know that Jack and the others had been there and gone, not finding Denny at home. Nor did they know anything of the note left pinned to the door.
“Do you suppose it could all be over?” asked Lottie.
“All over? What do you mean?” asked Cora.
“I mean could the men have been here, and been captured by the boys and taken to jail?”
“Oh, it’s possible, but not very probable,” returned Cora. “They surely would have managed to get some word to us if anything like that had happened.”
“But what are we going to do?” asked Bess. “We ought not to stay here.”
“No, I suppose not,” admitted Cora, slowly. “It might be a good thing, though, just to stop and speak to Denny. Then we’d know, soon enough, what had happened. Suppose we do that?”
The others agreed. They had stepped away from the window for a moment, but now Cora walked toward it again. Denny was still holding the oar, but he must have gotten up, for the window was now partly open, and it had not been so at first.
Denny was talking to himself. He was indulging in a soliloquy, apparently addressing himself to the oar.
“If you could only talk,” he said, “if you could only talk, what a tale you could tell. Yes, indeed!” and he sighed. “A tale of the sea and the land—of calm and storms.”
“He’s very poetical; isn’t he?” whispered Bess.
“Hush!” cautioned Cora. “Listen to what he says.”
Denny was evidently in a talking mood, and was living the past over again.
“If only Grandfather Lewis were here, what tales he could tell, too,” Denny went on. “And there’s one tale I’d be glad to listen to. He could tell where the land papers were. If only I could find ’em everything would be all right, and the factory men—ha! we could laugh in our sleeves at ’em. Laugh in our sleeves! Ha! Ha! No, we could laugh in their faces, so we could; couldn’t we?”
He held up the oar, speaking to it as one might to a favorite dog.
Denny swung it above his head, as though testing its weight as a club.
“’Twas so he swung it the night of the storm—the night he saved my life!” murmured Denny. “My, what a night that was! What a night!”
He seemed lost in recollection for a moment, and then resumed his self-communion.
“’Twas so he held it—held it out to me in the smother of foam and spray when I was goin’ under. And what was it he said?
“‘Grab holt!’ says he. ‘Grab holt and I’ll pull you in. Don’t be afraid, the oar is strong!’ And so it is—a grand, strong oar. As strong as old Len Lewis himself. What a grand old man he was! A fine old man!
“But he’s gone, and we all have to go. I’ll have to go with the rest, I suppose. But before I do go I wish I could find them land papers. What in the world did Grandfather Lewis do with ’em anyhow?
“They must be around here. He ought to have kept ’em in the bank, or in a strong box; but he was always like that. Hidin’ his things away in curious places. He even did it with his tobaccy. A strange man!
“But I’ll wager the papers aren’t far from the land. That would be his way—to keep the papers near the land. ‘A place for everything and everything in its place,’ he used to say. What more natural than that he’d have the papers near the land?
“I wonder, though, did he stick ’em anywhere around me cabin? He come over here often enough to sit and chat. Ah, many’s the good old talk we used to have—a talk of the old days. Often I’d come in from me boat, and find him here. He might have brought the papers an’ hid ’em here when I was out. I wonder if he did?”
Denny looked around his simple cabin. He laid the oar down gently, as a thing revered. He walked about the room, looking in various places.
“No, the papers wouldn’t be here,” he mused. “I’d have found them before this. And those fellows, who came and upset my place when I wasn’t home—they’d have found ’em if they was here. I wonder what Grandfather Lewis did with them papers?”
It was a puzzle that others than Denny Shane would have given much to solve.
Cora and her chums looked at one another in the moonlight outside Denny’s cabin. His talk had revealed something to them, but there was no clue to the missing papers which could prove the title of Mrs. Lewis to the valuable land.
“Well, there’s one thing sure, Denny hasn’t been attacked as yet,” whispered Bess. “And the boys haven’t been here to warn him, or he’d show some signs of it.”
“I think you’re right,” agreed Cora. “What had we better do? Tell him ourselves?”
“That’s what I say—let’s warn him,” suggested Belle.
The girls started for the cabin door, but paused midway as they heard the approach of a motor boat near the fisherman’s little dock.
“Wait,” suggested Cora. “That may be the boys now.”
“What’s the trouble?” asked one of the four men in the boat that had come to the rescue of Jack and his chums. “Engine broken, or are you out of gasoline?”
“We’ve got gas, but there may be water in it,” replied Dray. “I watched the fellow when he filled the tank, though, and he used the chamois all right.”
“You can’t always go by that,” said another of the accommodating strangers. “There’s an awful sight of poor gasoline being palmed off nowadays. Have you got a long rope?”
“We sure have,” answered Jack. “It’s mighty good of you to stop and give us a tow.”
“That’s all right,” laughed one of the men. “We never can tell when we might want a helping hand ourselves. Pass us the rope.”
It was flung over. The two boats were now bobbing side by side, for they were well out in the bay, and the sea was quite choppy. The tide was running out, and help had come to the boys not any too soon.
The rope, passing from the bow of the Dixie, where it was made fast to a ring bolt in the deck, was caught on to a cleat in the stern of the other boat.
“You’ll look after the steering; will you?” asked one of the men.
“Surely,” answered Dray.
“Because there’s nothing harder than towing a boat that yaws from side to side,” the man went on.
“We’ll keep a straight course,” declared the owner of the speedy boat that had proved such a disappointment of late. “We know something about gasoline craft.”
“Glad to hear it,” remarked one of the occupants of the rescuing boat, in a grumbling sort of voice. “There’s so many launched on the bay now, with a lot of chaps running them who don’t know any more than to turn on the gasoline and switch on the spark.”
“And girls, too,” added another of the men. “Though I must say there are some girls here who——”
“Easy there!” called one of the rescuers sharply.
He might have been speaking to his companion, who was attending to the fastening of the towing rope, but to Jack it seemed as though there was an injunction to be careful of what was said.
Somehow or other, though why he could not tell, Jack’s suspicions were aroused. He tried to get a good look at the faces of the men, but the moon was hidden behind some clouds just then, and it was out of the question. The light was too baffling.
“Well, I guess we’re ready,” announced the man who was making fast the towing rope. “Now where do you fellows want to go? We can’t promise to take you home, as we have some business of our own to attend to.”
Jack always said, afterward, that nothing could have been more providential than the way the moon shone out brightly just as he was about to reply.
He had it on the tip of his tongue to ask that, if possible, they be landed near Denny’s cabin, when a ray of moonlight glinted on the name of the rescuing boat, painted on her stern. There Jack read the word:
Pickerel.
“Great Scott!” he almost ejaculated aloud. “The boat that raced with Cora! The same men who are after old Denny!”
Jack made up his mind in a flash. It would never do for the men to know that he and his friends were on their way to save Denny from the very fate the men had in store for him.
“Oh, if you can land us anywhere near Buler’s Pavilion, it will answer,” said Jack, naming a place not far from the entrance to the bay, and not far from where they were at that moment.
“Buler’s Pavilion!” cried Ed. “Why that’s——”
“It’s probably closed, by this time, I know that!” answered Jack, quickly, giving Ed a sly kick. “But we can get somebody up, I guess.”
Then, in a tense whisper he hissed into Ed’s ear:
“These are the men after Denny. I know them by their boat. Don’t let on who we are. We’re going to Buler’s.”
“Sure, we can rouse somebody up if they are closed,” answered Ed, quickly falling in with Jack’s scheme. “That will do us, all right,” he added to the men. “That is, if it won’t be too much out of your way.”
“Not at all,” said one. “We’ll be glad to leave you there. Maybe you can find somebody to fix your boat. All ready?”
“Let her go,” said Jack. He wanted the Pickerel to get far enough ahead so that he could talk to his chums without the danger of being overheard.
The engine of the rescuing boat was set going more rapidly, and the clutch was thrown in. The craft forged ahead, and soon the Dixie was under way again. She was being brought back from the sea which had so nearly claimed her, and in a strange manner.
“Why did you want to say we’d like to be landed at Buler’s?” asked Dray of Jack.
“Because I want to fool these fellows,” and Jack quickly told how he had seen the name of the boat that had raced with his sister’s. “If we do land there,” he went on, “they won’t know who we are. We can tell them to cut us off before we get to the dock, in case the place should happen to be open and lighted up. Then they can’t see us.”
“Good idea,” said Dray. “You’re a wise boy, Jack.”
“I just saw that name in time,” went on Cora’s brother. “Otherwise it would have been all up with us.”
“But what about Denny?” asked Ed. “How are we going to save him if we land at Buler’s, and let these fellows go on?”
“I’ve thought of that,” answered Jack. “We’ll have to get another boat, if we can, and go to Denny’s cabin in her. The Dixie is no good. Oh, excuse me!” he said quickly to Dray. “I didn’t mean that—exactly.”
“It’s all right, old man, the Dixie is certainly no good to-night. Say all you please about her, you can’t hurt my feelings.”
“If only the Reliance is at Buler’s we can get her and go to the cabin flying,” went on Jack. “If not, we’ll do the best we can. Maybe Denny can stand them off until we arrive.”
“Say, what’s the matter with up and telling these fellows we know who they are, and who we are,” suggested Walter. “We can tell them we know what they’re up to, and threaten them. Won’t that stop them from bothering Denny—at least to-night?”
“Not a bit of it,” returned Jack, quickly. “Do you know what they’d do as soon as they found out who we were?”
“What?” asked Ed.
“They’d know at once we were working against them, and they’d cut us adrift. Then we would be out of it. And I haven’t any desire,” added Jack, with a shrug of his shoulders, “to go out to sea again.”
“We land at Buler’s,” said Walter, decidedly.
And a little later they landed at that resort, which had closed unusually early, for some reason.
“All right—cast off!” Jack had called as they neared the dock, and the Dixie, with trailing rope, ran up to it under her own momentum, while the other craft swung off into the darkness, the boys calling their thanks to the men.
“And if they only knew who it was they had given a tow to!” chuckled Walter.
“They’ll know, soon enough,” replied Jack. “We’ve got to look up a boat to take us to Denny Shane’s. We’ve simply got to get there.”
And while the boys were thus looking for a boat to take the place of the disabled Dixie, the plotters, in their swift Pickerel, were hastening toward the little cove where the fisherman’s cabin stood.
The men in the boat were Moran, the slow-moving character whom Cora had seen in the store; Bruce, the “society” chap; Kelly, a blunt and unscrupulous Irishman, who handled the money for the factory interests, and a man to run the boat. He had been brought in at the last minute.
“We lost a lot of time, towing those chumps,” grumbled Moran, as the Pickerel forged ahead.
“Well, we were early,” said Bruce. “I’ve had a man keeping watch on Shane’s shack, and he was late getting in. He telephoned to me. It’s just as well to let Shane get a bit settled before we tackle him. He was out fishing until long after dark.”
Then the engineer slowed down the powerful motor as they came up to the dock.
It was this sound that Cora and her chums heard.
When the girls heard Cora’s remark, that the approaching motor boat might contain the boys, Lottie said:
“Oh, we’re all right now!” and she sighed in relief.
“How much you depend on them!” observed Belle, in a low voice. “When you’ve been with us a little longer you’ll learn that we can do almost as well by ourselves.”
“But I am glad the boys have arrived,” agreed Cora. “I never was so pleased to know that they were on hand.”
But a moment later, as they saw the forms of four men leaving the motor boat, which had been made fast to the dock, Cora shrank back, at the same time whispering a warning.
“Girls, something is wrong! Those aren’t the boys. Quick, get out of sight!”
She pulled Bess behind a row of bushes, and the others followed silently. They had started down to the beach from the cabin, but fortunately managed to conceal themselves in time. The men, walking up the little slope toward the cabin, had not seen them.
Trembling with nervousness, Cora and her chums awaited the new turn of events. That it would come soon seemed likely, for the men appeared bent on something. They had made fast their boat, and came up the slope openly, as though their errand was the most innocent in the world. The light still glowed in the cabin.
“Oh, Cora!” gasped Marita. “Suppose they do——do something!”
“Which is very likely they will do,” replied Cora. “But don’t talk—I want to watch.”
From behind the screen of bushes Cora watched the men coming forward. The moon still gave a good light, though it was declining in the west.
“Is he there?” Cora heard one of the men ask.
“He seems to be—there’s a light going, anyhow,” was the answer. “I’d rather found him in bed, but we can’t have all we want.”
“Oh, where are the boys!” cried Bess, frantically. “Why don’t they come?”
“I don’t know,” answered Cora. “Surely they should have been here. But there must be a good reason why they are not. Jack wouldn’t disappoint us.”
“Why don’t you include Walter and the others?” asked Belle.
“Of course you know I meant them,” Cora retorted. “I can’t understand it—really I can’t.”
“Perhaps they are in hiding,” ventured Lottie.
“They’d have been out before this, if they were,” declared Cora.
There came a sudden knock. It was one of the men striking on the door of Denny’s cabin. From their hiding place in the bushes the girls heard it plainly.
“Listen!” whispered Cora.
They heard the voice of the old fisherman call:
“Who’s there? What do you want at this time of night?”
“We’ve come to see you,” was answered in tones Cora recognized as those of the young man who had raced with her.
“What about?” inquired Denny. “I have no fish to sell.”
“And we don’t want fish,” was the retort. “Come, Shane, open your door. We want to talk to you. It’s important, and there may be something in it for you.”
“Yes—trouble, more or less. I can’t see anything else,” was the grumbling response. “Wait a minute.”
Cora looked over the bushes. She could see the men grouped in front of the cabin door. Then she saw it open, and a broad beam of light shoot out.
“Come in,” invited Denny, and the plotters entered.
“Now’s our chance!” exclaimed Cora, her heart beating rapidly. “We must see what those men do. We may have to give evidence.”
“Oh, dear!” sighed Marita. “I never could do it. I’d faint, sure.”
“Do what?” asked Cora.
“Give evidence.”
“Don’t worry. You won’t have to do anything hard, dear,” was the gentle answer, as Cora slipped her arm about the timid girl.
“Oh, I’ll do anything you girls do,” was the quick answer. “I want to help.”
“And we want your help,” whispered Bess. “But, Cora, can’t we go closer? We ought to look in and see what happens.”
“Brave Bess!” murmured Lottie. “You are certainly coming on finely.”
The plotters were now inside the cabin, so that it was safe for the girls to advance. This they did until they were once more in a position where they could look in the window of the cabin.
They saw a strange sight. Old Denny Shane, brave and rugged, confronted the four men who had called on him. In one hand he grasped the red oar, while the other rested on the back of the chair from which he had risen.
“Well, Mr. Shane,” said the man Cora knew as Bruce. “We come to see you on business.”
“What kind?” asked the old man, and the girls could see him look around as though seeking help or a means of escape. But there was no fear in his eyes. Only defiance.
“We might as well get to business at once,” said one of the men, sharply. That was Kelly.
“That’s right,” agreed Moran. “Make him an offer. If he doesn’t want to take it then we’ll talk another kind of talk. And be quick about it.”
“I want no business with you!” cried Denny, sharply. “Why do you come here bothering me?”
“You know why!” exclaimed Bruce. “You are concerned in the Lewis land matter. You can testify as to who owns it.”
“Well, supposin’ I can?” asked the old man, defiantly. “What is that to you?”
“Lots to us, and it may mean a great deal to you, also!” snapped out Kelly. “You may have some papers, too.”
“I may,” returned Denny, “but you’ll not get ’em.”
Cora and the others, listening, knew that Denny would only be too glad if he did have the documents in question. But the girls had heard him lamenting that he did not know where they were.
Why did he now let the men think he did know? It was a puzzle to the girls.
“Not get them, eh?” cried Bruce. “That’s to be seen. Now look here, Shane. We came here to do business, and we’re going to do it. By fair means if we can, if not——”
He paused suggestively.
“Ah! I know you and your breed!” cried the old fisherman. “By fair means or foul! But try it on! I’m not afraid of you.”
He stepped back a pace, the better to defend himself in case he had to. The red oar was still in his firm hands.
“Now wait a minute,” put in Moran. “We’ll try the fair means first. What do you say to that? Show him the bills.”
With a quick gesture Bruce drew out a roll of greenbacks.
“Here you go, Shane!” he exclaimed. “There’s a cool hundred here, and it’s yours if you testify that the Widow Lewis has no claim on the land. And she hasn’t any claim that she can prove. All we want you to testify to is that her husband’s father sold the land some time before his death. We’ll do the rest.”
“But he didn’t sell it!” cried Denny. “It was his on his dyin’ day, and it belongs to his son’s widder and daughter now. That’s the law, an’ you know it.”
“She can’t prove that the land is hers,” sneered Kelly.
“Maybe she can,” returned Denny, quietly.
“Well, she can’t unless you tell what you know,” broke in Bruce. “We’ve found out that much. Now the factory wants that land, and it’s going to get it. Here, I’ll make it a hundred and fifty if you do as we want you to.”
“An’ testify to a lie?” cried Denny.
“It wouldn’t be exactly a lie. Besides, we’re willing to pay the widow a small sum.”
“Not what the land’s worth. That’s valuable property,” insisted Denny, “and it will keep her in her old age if she manages right. Be off with you! I’ll stick to the Widder Lewis, so I will. Be off!” and he motioned them to the door. “You wouldn’t have got this close if it hadn’t been that my dog was dead. Be off!”
“Not so fast,” Cora and her chums heard Bruce say. “We haven’t said all we intend to.”
“Oh, I’m sure something will happen now,” quavered Bess.
“Hush,” cautioned Cora. “We must do something!”
“Do something?” questioned Marita. “Oh, why don’t the boys come?”
Cora and her chums were close to the cabin now. They could look in the door, and through the uncurtained window, and see plainly all that went on. They could also hear plainly, for the men and old Denny spoke loudly. And, as yet, the girls had not been noticed.
“Now, look here!” said Bruce, and there was a snarl in his voice. “This is our last offer, Shane. Either you take the hundred and fifty dollars, and testify the way we want you to, or we’ll find means to make you, and you won’t get the money. And I’ll say this, that we’ll treat the Widow Lewis as fair as we can.”
“Which won’t be fair at all!” burst out Denny. “Not at all!”
“Well, what’s your answer?” cried Kelly. “We can’t stay here all night. Give him the money, Bruce. When he feels it he’ll hate to let it go.”
Bruce held out the roll of bills. To the surprise of Cora and the girls the fisherman took them. Was he going to betray Freda and her mother?
The next instant they knew Denny for the brave-souled man he was.
“That’s me answer!” he cried, throwing the bills in the face of Bruce. “Take your evil money and get out. I’ll stick to the widder!”
For a moment the men were nonplussed. Then, with an angry exclamation, Bruce started forward.
“Come, girls,” said Cora, “we’ve got to go to the aid of Denny. For some reason the boys aren’t here. We’ve got to save him!” and with this brave resolve she moved toward the cabin.
“Cora Kimball, what are you going to do?” gasped Lottie, trying to hold back her chum.
“I’m going to go to Denny’s aid. Why shouldn’t I? It’s four to one, but even if we are girls we can perhaps turn the tide in his favor.”
“Oh, Cora, I don’t dare!” admitted Belle.
“Nor I,” added her plump sister. “I’ll faint if you go in where those horrid men are.”
“Faint if you like,” returned Cora, calmly. “Somebody else will have to look after you, then, for I’m going.”
“But why?” asked Lottie. “We ought not to interfere when men are going to fight, and I think that’s what’s going to happen in there.”
“That is what’s going to happen,” said Cora, “but perhaps we can prevent it. For some unknown reason, though the boys promised to come here and defend Denny, they haven’t done so. Therefore, it’s our place to do it.”
“Yes, and I’m going with you!” announced Marita, determinedly.
All this talk had taken but a few seconds of time, and, as it had been in whispers, the men in the cabin had not heard it. The situation, however, was rapidly becoming acute.
With one accord, after Bruce had stepped toward old Denny, the others advanced. They were evidently going to lay violent hands on him. But the sturdy fisherman was not afraid.
“Stand back!” he cried. “Stand back or I’ll do you harm—you cowards!”
“No use calling names!” sneered Kelly. “We’re here to do you. We made you a fair offer, and you wouldn’t take it. Now you’ll have to abide by the consequences.”
“Get behind him,” said Bruce. “I can take him from where I stand.”
“Get back! Get out of here!” ordered the old man.
He raised the red oar over his head, threateningly.
“Grab him!” cried Moran. “Grab that oar!”
“You’ll get it over the head before you grab it!” threatened Denny. “Mind that, now!”
The fisherman swung his weapon, but he either had not calculated on the length of it, or he forgot that he was nearer to the wall than he had been at first. The blade of the oar caught in a hanging picture, and was entangled in the wire.
Denny, putting all his strength into the blow he had hoped would disable one of his assailants, was thrown off his balance. He toppled and nearly fell.
“Now we’ve got him!” yelled Kelly.
The cowardly men, attacking the single fisherman with overwhelming numbers, made a leap forward.
“Stop! Let him alone. We’ll call the police!” screamed Cora, and the other girls added their shrill voices to hers. They rushed into the cabin.
“The girls I raced with!” muttered Bruce. “We’ve no time to fool with them. Don’t mind them. Get at Shane!”
“Get at me, is it?” cried the fisherman. He had by this time disentangled the oar from the picture wire. Again he raised it over his head, intending to bring it down on Kelly.
As the red weapon descended Kelly shot up his hand and caught it. He twisted on the oar to wrest it from Denny’s grasp, and the two suddenly went to the floor, jarring the whole cabin.
And at that instant there was a sound of splintering, breaking wood. Some red slivers flew out from between the two prostrate men who were struggling for possession of the weapon.
“The red oar! It’s broken!” cried Denny. “Me old red oar, that saved me life in the hands of Grandfather Lewis! The red oar is broken, bad luck to you! Cowards that you are!”
The girls were screaming, but even Cora, brave as she was, dared go no nearer to the two desperately struggling men. Bruce and Moran were seeking an opening that they might get hold of Denny. The fourth man had gone back to the boat, seemingly. He had leaped out of the window as the girls entered.
The cabin was a place of wild excitement.
“Get that oar away from him!” cried Bruce. “Here’s some rope. Tie him up, and then we’ll get what we want out of him!”
“Don’t you dare hurt him!” screamed Cora.
“Ah, would you?” gasped Denny, as he rolled out from under Kelly, who had sought to pass a rope about the old man’s wrists. “I’m not down and out yet!” he panted. “The red oar is broken, but I’ve got the best end yet.”
He staggered to his feet, holding the handle of the red oar. One end was splintered where it had been broken from the blade.
“Come on! I’m not afraid!” yelled Denny. “Come on. You girls had better leave——there’s going to be trouble!”
“We won’t go! Help is on the way. The boys are coming!” cried Cora, though she did not know when Jack and the others would arrive.
“Oh, if they were only here now! When we need them so!” gasped Lottie.
Again Denny swung what was left of the red oar around his head. He aimed a blow at the face of Bruce, but it fell short and struck the man on the shoulder.
Then a strange thing happened. The handle of the oar split lengthwise, and from a hollow place inside there flew out a roll of papers, yellow with age. And on one of them was a red seal—a legal-looking seal.
Bruce staggered at the blow, and a strange look came over his face. It might have been that he was dazed, but his eyes lighted on the roll of papers that had fallen to the floor. There they lay—a curious roll that had come from the secret crevice in the red oar.
The struggle had come to a sudden end. The girls ceased screaming and stood looking on dumbly, unable to understand what had happened.
As for the men they, too, seemed startled by the strange turn of events. Kelly rose to his feet, and was creeping up on Denny from behind. His arms were outstretched, and his fingers worked convulsively, as though they would like to close about the fisherman’s throat, and force him to testify as the plotters desired.
Cora wanted to scream a warning, but some strange force seemed to hold her dumb.
“The red oar—it’s broken—broken! Me old red oar, that saved me life!” murmured Denny Shane. “But I never knew ’twas hollow. Never! I wonder did Grandfather Lewis——”
He did not complete the sentence, for at that instant Bruce leaped forward and caught up the roll of yellow papers from the floor.
“Give me those!” cried Denny leaping at him with the jagged piece of the red oar in his gnarled hands—the hands that had, so many years ago, grasped the same oar in what was little short of a death-grip. “Give me those papers!” fairly roared Denny. “I don’t know what they are, but they’re not yours. Give ’em to me!”
“Give you these! I guess not!” sneered Bruce. “They are just what we want—the land papers. They’re the only ones by which the widow could prove her shadowy claim to the property, and with them out of the way it’s all clear sailing for us.
“This is the luckiest thing that could have happened for us! The breaking of the red oar came at the right time. Kelly, give me a match and we’ll make a little bonfire of these same papers.”
“Don’t you dare!” cried Denny, and, making a leap forward he snatched from Kelly’s hands the precious documents that had so strangely come from the secret hiding place in the red oar.