“Hallo yourself,” he replied, good-naturedly. “Well, I swan to man, if there ain’t Roy Sheldon and—Why, you’re all here, ain’t you? Say! seen any thing of Matt Coyle since you have been hanging around?”
“Mr. Swan, how are you?” exclaimed all the boys, in a breath. They knew the guide, and liked him, too.
“You have come to the right place to learn a good deal concerning Matt and his doings,” continued Roy. “What has he been up to now?”
“Well, you see,” answered the guide, speaking with so much deliberation that the impatient boys wanted to hurry him, “he came here last year from somewhere, and wanted to set in for a guide; but the hotels down to the lake wouldn’t have him, ’cause they didn’t think he was a safe man to trust with a boat, and Matt, he allowed that he’d fix things so’t there wouldn’t be no guidin’ for none of us to do. So he’s took to the woods, and he robs every camp he can find, if there don’t happen to be any body around to watch it. Leastwise we lay it to him, ’cause we know he’s around here, and some of us thought that we’d like to take a peep at his shanty, if he’s got one.”
“We can’t tell you where his shanty is,” said Joe, “but we can show you where Matt and his boys were not ten minutes ago. He stole my canvas canoe and gave me a long chase through the woods. He promised that if he could get hold of me, he would wear a hickory out over my back.”
Joe’s story was a long one, for in order to make the guide understand how he and his companions had incurred the enmity of the vindictive squatter, it was necessary that he should go back to the time when Matt and his family first made their appearance in Mount Airy. He described the fight between them and the constable and his posse, the particulars of which he received from eye-witnesses; told how Matt had stolen the canoe and six fine fishing-rods and reels, while he and his companions were looking for the bear they saw on the shore of Sherwin’s Pond; and gave a glowing account of the fight in the creek, at which the guide laughed heartily.
“I’ll jest bet that them was my taters that you pelted him with,” said he; “’cause while I was out in the woods with a guest from Boston, my wife said that my garden and smoke-house were both robbed in one night. As for them fish poles—I think I can tell you where to find them.”