“Look a yer, pap,” said he. “You was hid in the bresh where you could see the sheriff an’ his crowd when they crossed the outlet on the mornin’ they stole Jake’s canoe, wasn’t you? Well, couldn’t you have seen the gun-cases if they had ’em in their hands?”
“You didn’t see ’em, did you? Then don’t that go to prove that the guides didn’t find the guns when they found the canoe? Somebody else took ’em, an’ the money, too.”
“I’ll bet it was too,” exclaimed Jake, catching at the suggestion as drowning men catch at straws. Of course he knew that Tom and his cousins carried off the guns, for he had seen them do it; but he dared not say so, for fear that his father would punish him for permitting it. Where the money went was a question that was altogether too deep for him. Matt was so impressed by Sam’s answer that he found it necessary to sit down and fill and light his pipe.
“I’ll bet it was, too,” said he, when he had taken a few long whiffs. “I thought that Bigden boy was mighty sot up an’ independent the second time I seen him, an’ he could afford to be, knowin’, as he did, that I couldn’t perduce the guns. Now what’s to be done about it?”
“Why can’t we take a run down to their camp to-morrer an’ see what they’ve got in it?” said Jake. “Of course we’ll have to swim to get on their side of the creek—”
“An’ jest for the reason that we ain’t got no boat,” snarled Matt. “That’s what comes of my givin’ that canoe to you ’stead of keepin’ it for my own. You hid it where they could find it, but I would have took better care of it. Now, le’s go to camp an’ eat some of the grub that the ole woman helped herself to in Rube’s cabin. Jake, I’ll let you off till to-morrer, an’ I won’t tech you at all if we find the money an’ guns in Bigden’s camp; but if we don’t find ’em I’ll have to do a pap’s dooty by you.”
Jake, glad to have even a short respite, made no reply, but he did some rapid thinking.
Now it so happened that Tom and his cousins were not at home when Matt Coyle and his young allies visited their camp on the following day. They had gone to Indian Lake after their mail. Contrary to their usual custom they all went, each one of the party declaring, with some emphasis, that he was sick and tired of acting as camp-keeper, while his companions were off somewhere enjoying themselves, and wouldn’t do it any more because it was not necessary. They could take their most valuable things with them in their canoes and the rest could be concealed. The result of this arrangement was that when the squatter and his boys found the camp they found nothing else.