The Young Wild-Fowlers

When the police-boat disappeared around the point the boys drew a long breath of relief, and the duck-shooter arose from his seat on the bench and put away his bag and stick. The satisfied grin they saw on his face kept back the words of sympathy and condolence that arose to their lips.

“I’ve kinder been looking for this ever since you-uns told me that they had found that big gun on Powell’s Island,” said Barr. “Now it’s over with, and I’m glad on’t. I’ll have them things they took away from me back agin. They can’t tell me to hand over my license until they prove that I’ve been going agin the law, and that’s something they can’t do. Nobody ain’t seen me shoot a big gun this season, and nobody won’t see me, nuther.”

“Does he mean to say that we can’t go with him to-night?” whispered Lester, as the duck-shooter walked down to the beach and pulled his canoe out of the water.

“Oh, no,” replied Enoch. “He will let us go, but still we won’t see him fire the big gun, because it will be so dark that we can’t see anything.”

“Did that officer have any right to take those boats in the way he did?” asked Jones. “To me it looked like a very high-handed proceeding.”

“Well, it wasn’t. They knew what they were about. City policemen very often arrest people on what they call ‘general principles’; that is, because they look suspicious or act so. These officers have the same authority. If Barr had been an unlicensed gunner, they would have arrested him for having that sink-boat in his possession; but as he has a permit to use it on certain days of the week, they could only take it away from him because they suspected him of big-gunning. If they fail to make out a case against him, Barr will get his boat back. He’s going to put a block in his canoe and use that to-night, in place of the skiff he lost.”

Enoch and his friends, who had come prepared to stay all day, sat on the bench and watched Barr while he was at work on his canoe, and when dinner-time came they gave him a liberal portion of their lunch, in return for the terrapin which he roasted for them on the coals. They spent the afternoon in lounging on the beach and listening to Barr, who would tell a thrilling story of the dangers he had seen, and the narrow escapes he had had from destruction by the elements and capture by the police-boats, and then stop to rail at Gus Egan and his party, for finding his big gun and giving it up to the officers of the Magpie. He repeatedly declared that he would make them sorry for that, and the boys, especially Lester Brigham, would have been very badly frightened if they had known how deeply in earnest he was when he said it. Enoch knew that the duck-shooter was a man who never made idle threats. He was suspected of many dark deeds, any one of which would have landed him in the penitentiary if it could have been fastened upon him, but he never dreamed that Barr had resolved to turn his hand to something besides incendiarism this time, and that the idea had been suggested to him by the spiteful words that Lester Brigham had spoken against Don Gordon.

The hours of day-light passed slowly away, and finally darkness and a thick fog settled down over the bay. That suited Barr, who, like an owl, was lazy and slothful while the sun shone, and full of life and activity when it was out of sight. The first thing he did was to bring out his big gun, which he proceeded to charge with a load that made Lester and Jones open their eyes, and caused the former to predict that there wouldn’t be anything left of the canoe after that ponderous weapon had been fired in it. Then they went out to the sloop, and after the canoe had been hauled aboard, and the big gun placed close beside the rail, so that it could be quickly thrown overboard, in case the Magpie or one of her consorts should chance to be hovering about, the sails were hoisted and the little craft moved slowly out of the creek.

Bush River, the place at which Barr expected to load his sloop with a single discharge of his big gun, was ten miles away, and if they had been obliged to depend solely upon the wind, they would not have reached it before day-light; but the tide was in their favor, and carried them ahead at such a rate that at the end of two hours Barr began looking out for his “partner.”

“He’s around here somewhere,” said the duck-shooter, who seemed to know right where he was, although the fog and the darkness were so dense that he could not see more than twenty feet ahead of the sloop’s bow. “You see, he has been here all day watching them ducks, to keep other fellers away, and to make sure that they were going to stay long enough for me to have a pop at them.”

“I don’t see how he could keep other fellows away,” observed Lester.

“Oh, he couldn’t keep a party of ‘gentlemen sportsmen’ from firing into them, if they should happen along,” answered Enoch. “He isn’t expected to do that; but Barr isn’t the only big-gunner on the bay, and if one of that class should discover the flock, the watcher would say: ‘Those are my ducks,’ and the other fellow, would sheer off and let them alone. There’s honor even among duck-shooters, you know.”

“Enoch, give one of your low, shrill whistles,” said Barr, “and mebbe that’ll make him show up.”

The boy complied with the request, and presently an answering whistle came through the fog. Pete—that was the “partner’s” name—was on the alert, but he did not know which way to go to find the sloop. Enoch replied to all his signals, which were given at short intervals, and in a few minutes his canoe shot out of the fog and came alongside. Its occupant seemed surprised to find so large a crew aboard the sloop, but he made no remark. He knew that Barr was much too suspicious to bring any outsiders with him on an expedition like this unless he was sure they could be trusted.

“Well,” said Barr, as his partner sprang over the rail and motioned to Enoch to lend a hand in hauling his canoe aboard, “how is everything in the river?”

“Everything is all right,” was the encouraging response. “The bed is still there, but the wind is changing, and as soon as the fog begins to lift and the tide to turn, they’ll be off.”

“Not all of ’em, I reckon,” answered Barr, with a laugh. “Seen anything of the Magpie?”

Pete replied that he had seen her go toward Havre de Grace about eleven o’clock that morning; and then Barr went on to tell how the officers had searched his cabin and ground for the big gun he was to use that night, interlarding his sentences with so many frightful imprecations and threats against the boys who had been the cause of all his trouble, that Lester shuddered while he listened. Still he wished it had been Don Gordon, instead of Gus Egan, who had incurred the duck-shooter’s enmity.

“I shouldn’t care much what happened to him, so long as he wasn’t hurt,” thought Lester. “I simply wish that his path and mine might never cross each other again. I can’t bear the sight of him. I don’t want to see him strutting around with those silver leaves on his shoulders, while I haven’t so much as a corporal’s stripes to be happy over.”

As soon as Pete’s canoe had been hauled aboard, the sloop filled away on her course. She had but a short distance farther to run, and at the end of another half hour the sails were quietly lowered, and the preparations for the coming slaughter were quickly completed. Barr’s canoe was put into the water, the big gun lowered into it, and then the duck-shooter stretched himself out flat on the bottom, and with a short paddle, somewhat resembling a pudding-stick, in each hand, moved silently away into the darkness.

“I don’t see any ducks,” whispered Lester, after he had tried in vain to locate the flock.

“Neither do I; neither does Barr, yet,” replied Enoch. “But they are out there somewhere. Now keep perfectly still, and stand by to lend a hand with the sails the minute you hear the gun speak. After the ducks are killed, we can’t pick them up and get away from here any too quick.”

“Why not?” asked Lester, who was trembling with excitement.

“How do we know but there may be a police-boat within hailing distance of us?” asked Enoch, in reply. “If there is, she will come at us like a hawk at a June bug, and we want to hold ourselves in readiness to run.”

“But if it should chance to be the Magpie, she could easily overhaul us,” Jones remarked. “She goes by steam, while we have nothing but this very light breeze to depend on.”

“She might catch us, and then again she might not,” said Enoch, who did not seem to be at all uneasy. “This little sloop can be pushed ahead at a pretty fair rate of speed with a pair of long sweeps, and this fog is in our favor. The Magpie might have hard work to find us. We could hear her exhaust, and that would make it easy for us to keep out of her way; but we should move so silently that she couldn’t follow us.”

Enoch, who knew just what ought to be done and how to do it, assisted Pete to get his canoe overboard, and then the boys leaned against the rail and waited in silence to see what was going to happen. Barr had been gone fully a quarter of an hour, and nothing had been heard of him; but now a light shot up through the darkness, glowed brightly for a moment and then disappeared. The boys could not tell where it came from—they could only see its reflection in the fog.

“What was it?” whispered Jones.

“The flash of a dark-lantern,” answered Enoch. “Barr is trying to find the ducks. Some hunters ignite a pinch of gun-powder, but a lantern is much better because——”

Just then the air was rent by a terrific concussion, followed almost instantly by a roar, which sounded so much like the noise made by an approaching storm, that Lester could scarcely refrain from crying out, so frightened was he. The first was the report of the big gun, and the second was the tumult made by the survivors of the flock, as they arose in the air and sought safety in flight. Jones and Lester were full of questions, but Enoch and Pete could not stop to answer them. The latter sprang into his canoe and paddled away with all speed, to assist in picking up the ducks that had fallen before the murderous fire of Barr’s blunderbuss, while Enoch ran forward and seized the jib halliards.

“Lend a hand here,” said he, in low but excited tones. “This is a dangerous moment, and we must be ready to show our heels at an instant’s warning. We have given notice over a wide stretch of country that we are here, and if there are any police about, they will be along directly. No, there were not millions in the flock, but there were thousands, undoubtedly. I never heard such a roar of wings before.”

“What will Barr do with his ducks after he has picked them up?” inquired Jones, as he gave a pull at the port sheet, while Enoch belayed the halliard. “I should think he would be afraid to take them to market.”

“Oh, no, he won’t. He’ll take them up to Havre de Grace and sell them to a man who will ship them north, or to Baltimore. Shall we go with him, or go back to the Firefly and turn in for the night?”

“Didn’t you tell me that the detectives who are sent down here to break up this night-shooting make their headquarters at Havre de Grace?” asked Lester.

Enoch believed he had made some such remark.

“Then I say, let’s go back to the Firefly!” exclaimed Lester, who, having seen one detective that day, did not want to see another, for fear that he might ask some questions that he would not care to answer. Enoch laughed at his fears, but agreed to go back, because there wasn’t any fun to be seen in sailing twenty miles before a light breeze on a dark night, just to see a boatload of ducks sold.

When the mainsail had been hoisted, Enoch went to the wheel, and the sloop moved into the river to pick up the canoes, whose positions were pointed out by occasional flashes of light from Barr’s lantern. Pete, who was the first to come alongside, said, in response to Enoch’s inquiries, that they had secured seven dozen and three birds. How many had escaped to die of their wounds in the marshes, or to be eaten by seagulls, weasels or foxes, Pete didn’t state. The “gentlemen sportsmen,” of whom Enoch had so lightly spoken, always made it a point to allow no injured bird to get away if they could help it; but these two professionals did not belong to that class. They took care of the dead, and left the wounded to look out for themselves.

“Eighty-seven birds at one fire!” exclaimed Lester, who was profoundly astonished.

“That’s nothing,” replied Enoch. “The big gun I told you of this morning has been known to knock over more than a hundred at one shot. Where’s Barr?”

“Gone ashore to hide the gun,” answered Pete. “If you and your pardners will help with these ducks, we’ll pick him up and get out of this as quick as we know how.”

Enoch and his companions, who were quite as anxious to put a safe distance between themselves and Bush River as Pete was, willingly assisted him in unloading his canoe and stowing the ducks on board the sloop. This work being done, they set out in search of Barr, who, having concealed his gun so that he could easily find it again when he returned from Havre de Grace, pulled the slide of his lantern now and then to show them where he was. He was glad to let Enoch have his canoe to go back to the Firefly, for it saved him the trouble of hiding it in the marshes. Bold as he was, Barr would have thought twice before taking it to Havre de Grace on board the sloop. If the officers who visited his cabin that morning should happen to get a glimpse of it, they would know what he had been doing, for the recoil-block, which was not there when they saw the canoe, would condemn him at once.

When Barr sprang aboard his sloop, the boys dropped down into the canoe, and the two crafts moved away in opposite directions, both reaching their destinations without any mishap, but not without some exertion. Barr spent a good deal of time in dodging the Magpie, whose familiar exhaust betrayed her presence, and the boys were obliged to paddle almost twice ten miles, following, as they did, all the windings of the shore in order to keep their bearings. They were tired enough when they climbed over the Firefly’s rail, and too sleepy to make up the bunks, so they threw themselves down on the floor of the cabin, and with their hats and boots for pillows, slept soundly until Barr’s hoarse voice aroused them. They woke up long enough to hear him tell of his adventure with the Magpie, and then went off into dream-land again, where they stayed until nearly eight o’clock. By that time they were hungry, and the remains of their lunch, supplemented by a “diamond back,” which Barr roasted for them, only served to give them a sharper appetite for their dinner. The duck-shooter was in excellent spirits. He and his partner had made twenty dollars apiece by their night’s work. During the run from Havre de Grace they had spied another big bed, and Pete had remained behind to watch it. But this announcement did not tempt the boys to stay and go out on another night expedition. They were all tired and hungry, and two of them had seen as much of law-breakers and their ways as they cared to see for some time to come; so they filled away for home, passing close enough to the Sallie to see that she was still above water, and that Egan and his guests were making ready to go somewhere in her.

Enoch and his friends spent the rest of the day in doing nothing, and very hard work they found it; but the day following brought excitement with it, and much more than they wanted, too. As they could think of no better way of passing the time, they set sail in the Firefly at an early hour, intending to spend the day in camp on Powell’s Island, and to knock over any ducks that might happen to come in their way; but their hearts were not in the work, and the bag they took home with them was not worth bragging about. Enoch and Jones, who were very fine shots, managed to kill half a dozen birds between them, but Lester missed every one he fired at. The day was raw and windy, and Lester, who did the most of his shooting and fishing with his mouth, found much more pleasure in hugging the camp-fire than he did in exposing himself to the keen blasts, which could not have been a great deal colder if they had come off an iceberg. He was glad when Enoch announced that it was time to go home, but when he got there, he wished that he had gone as straight as he could to Havre de Grace and taken the first train for Cairo. The schooner had hardly stopped at her moorings when Barr appeared as if by magic. The first hint they had of his presence was a low “how dy, boys,” and, upon looking up, they saw him peering over the rail, to which he held fast with both hands, in order to keep his canoe in position.

“Hallo!” exclaimed Enoch. “Where did you drop down from, and what do you want here in broad day-light?”

“I have been in that there cove waiting for you, and I want to see Brigham,” was the reply.

“What do you want to see me for?” demanded Lester, who was not a little nettled by the man’s familiarity.

“Come over here, and I’ll tell you,” said the duck-shooter; and the way he said it aroused the boys’ curiosity to the highest pitch. They moved to the side, and Barr continued, as he nodded his head toward Enoch and Jones: “You don’t mind if these fellers hear it, I suppose?”

“Certainly not,” answered Lester, whose surprise began to give way to alarm. “I am perfectly willing they should hear anything you have to say to me.”

“Well, then,” said Barr, and the boys afterward told one another that there was something like a defiant ring in his voice as he uttered the words, “I’ll trouble you for them thousand.”

“That thousand!” repeated Lester, with no suspicion of the truth in his mind. “What thousand?”

“Have you forgot all about it so soon?” exclaimed Barr, angrily. “I ain’t, if you have. I mean them thousand dollars you said you would give if somebody would send that Don Gordon so far out’n the country that you wouldn’t never see him no more. Remember it now, I reckon, don’t you?”

Lester was thunder-struck. He tried to speak, but the words he would have uttered seemed to stick fast in his throat. He reeled as if Barr had dealt him a stunning blow, and would have fallen to the deck if he had not clung to the rail for support.

“Great Scott! what have you done?” cried Enoch, who was the first to recover the use of his tongue.

“I’ve give Gus Egan something to busy himself with, so that he will have no time to spend in running around and skeering away my ducks,” said Barr, savagely. “He didn’t seem to know how to spend his vacation, but he won’t be troubled that way no more.”

“But what have you done?” repeated Enoch. “And if you have been guilty of any rascality, why do you come here to tell us of it? I am sure that we are in no way interested in your affairs.”

“Ain’t you, now?” cried Barr, who seemed to be so sure of his ground that even Enoch began to be frightened. “If you ain’t interested in the matter, Brigham is, for a fact. He said he would be willing to pay liberal if that Gordon boy was sent away, so’t he wouldn’t never see him no more, and I——”

“And did you think I was in earnest when I said it?” Lester almost shouted. He began to understand what the duck-shooter was trying to get at, and his intense alarm took away all his strength and pretty near all his wits. He sat down on the Firefly’s deck and looked about him as if he were trying to make up his mind which way he could run first.

“Did I think you was in ’arnest?” repeated Barr. “Of course I did. If you wasn’t, you had no business to say what you did. I have done the work, and I want my money.”

“But what have you done?” said Enoch, again. “Where is Don Gordon now?”

“He’s on his way to Chiny,” was the astounding reply, “and he won’t come back to trouble none of you for three long years, at least.”

“Then you kidnapped him and put him aboard a vessel?” said Enoch.

“I did, for a fact.”

“You didn’t hurt him?”

“Well, as to that, I can’t say for certain,” answered Barr, reflectively. “He fought so uncommon hard that for a time it looked as though he was going to whop the pair of us, and Pete had to quiet him with a rap on the head. Pete afterward said he was sorry he teched him, for he was pluck to the back-bone, and he’d bet he was a good feller.”

“Then why didn’t you let him go?” demanded Enoch, who did the most of the talking. Jones and Lester were so nearly stunned by the startling piece of news Barr had brought them, that they hardly knew what they were doing.

“We couldn’t let him go, kase we’d gone too far,” replied the duck-shooter. “He’d have taken the law on us the minute he got loose. Now, Brigham, what are you going to do about it?”

“He won’t do anything about it,” said Enoch, who saw that Lester could not speak for himself. “He didn’t tell you that he wanted Don Gordon shanghaied and sent off to China, and if you have done any such mad work as that, which I don’t believe, you need not expect him to pay you for it.”

“That’s it,” cried Lester, who was quick to catch at the idea Enoch had thrown out. “You never did it. You took advantage of some thoughtless words we uttered yesterday, and have cooked up this story to extort money from me. But you have reckoned without your host. I haven’t got a thousand cents; so there, now.”

The duck-shooter’s eye had a dangerous look in it, but he answered very calmly:

“You can’t creep out of no little hole like that. I done the work you said you wanted done, and it won’t be long before you will hear somebody else say so. After you have had time to find out that I have told you the truth, I shall come for my money, and I expect to get it, too. I do, for a fact.”

So saying, Barr sat down in his canoe and paddled away, leaving three badly frightened boys behind him. They were so bewildered that they could not think clearly. The only facts they could grasp were that Don Gordon had been kidnapped and shipped off to China, and that Barr wanted a thousand dollars for it. Enoch, as before, was the first to speak.

“Lester,” said he, “if that man told the truth, I wouldn’t be in your boots for all the money there is in America.”

“Neither would I,” Jones managed to articulate.

“I never said ‘thousand dollars’ to him once,” exclaimed Lester, with a little show of spirit. “I don’t believe he would dare do such a thing, any way.”

“You don’t know that man. There’s nothing he dare not do if he thinks there is money in it. But we shall soon know the truth,” said Enoch, in a trembling voice. “Here comes the Sallie!”

Jones and Lester looked up, and sure enough there was Egan’s cutter coming down before a brisk breeze, with all her canvas spread. There was something aggressive in the way she cut through the water, headed directly for the schooner, and Lester’s heart sank within him, while his head sank below the rail.

“I think myself that the best thing you can do is to keep out of sight,” said Enoch. “Egan wants to speak to us, and one glimpse of your face would betray you, as sure as you’re a foot high.”

Enoch’s face was a good deal whiter than it usually was, but he had the nerve to carry him through an ordeal that Lester could not have braved to save his life. He pretended to be at work at something about the windlass, and when the expected hail came he was ready to answer it.