Tom Slade at Temple Camp Part 11

"How did Harry Stanton die?" Tom asked.

The man, with a significant motion of his finger toward the lone figure of the girl, drew nearer and the boys gathered about him.

"The old gent didn' tell ye, hey?"

"Not a word."

"Hmmm--well, Harry was summat older'n you boys, he was gettin' to be a reg'lar young man. Trouble with him was he didn' know what he wanted.

First off, he must have a horse, 'n' then he must have a boat, so th'

old man, he got him this boat. He's crusty, but he's all to the good, th' old man is."

"You bet your life he is," said Pee-wee.

"Well, Harry an' Benty Willis--you remember Benty, Bill--him an' Benty Willis was out in the _Nymph_--that's this here very boat. They had 'er anch.o.r.ed up a ways here, right off Cerry's Hill, an' they was out in the skiff floppin' 'round--some said fis.h.i.+n'."

"They was bobbin' fer eels, that's wot they was doin'," said the other man.

"Well, wotever they was doin' it was night 'n' thar was a storm. An'

that's every bloomin' thing me or you or anybody else'll ever know about it. The next day Croby Risbeck up here was out fer his nets an' he come on the skiff swamped, over there off'n that point. An' near it was Benty Willis."

"Drowned?" asked Roy.

"Drownded. He must o' tried to keep afloat by clingin' t' the skiff, but she was down to her gunnel an' wouldn' keep a cat afloat. He might o'

kep' his head out o' water a spell clingin' to it. All I know is he was drownded when he was found. Wotever become o' that skiff, Bill?"

"And what about Mr. Stanton's son?" Roy asked.

"Well, they got his hat an' his coat that he must a' thrown off an'

that's all. Th' old man 'ud never look at the launch again. He had her brought over'n' tied up right about here, an' there she stood till the floods carried her up over this here road and sot her down in the marsh."

"Did the skiff belong with her?" Roy asked.

"Sure enough; always taggin' on behind."

"How did they think it happened?" asked Tom.

"Wall, fer one thing, it was a rough night an' they may uv jest got swamped. But agin, it's a fact that Harry knew how to swim; he was a reg'lar water-rat. Now, what I think is this. Th' only thing 't 'd prevent that lad gettin' ash.o.r.e'd be his gettin' killed--not drowned, but _killed_."

"You don't mean murdered?" Tom asked.

"Well, if they was swamped by the big night boat, an' he got mixed up with the paddle wheel, I don't know if ye'd call it murder, but it'd be killin', sure enough. Leastways, they never got him, an' it's my belief he was chopped up. Take a tip from me, you boys, an' look out fer the night boat, 'cause the night boat ain't a-goin' t' look out fer you."

The girl, strolling back, put an end to their talk, but it was clear that she, too, must have been thinking of that fatal night, for her eyes were red and she seemed less vivacious.

"You must be careful," said she, "there are a good many accidents on the river. My father told me to tell you you'd better not do much traveling at night. I want to see you on board, and then I must go home," she added.

She held out her hand and Roy, who was in this instance best suited to speak for the three, grasped it.

"There's no use trying to thank you and your father," he said. "If you'd given us some little thing we could thank you, but it seems silly to say just the same thing when we have a thing like this given to us, and yet it seems worse for us to go away without saying anything. I guess you know what I mean."

"You must promise to be careful--can you all swim?"

"We are scouts," laughed Roy.

"And that means you can do anything, I suppose."

"No, not that," Roy answered, "but we do want to tell you how much we thank you--you and your father."

"Especially you," put in Pee-wee.

She smiled, a pretty wistful smile, and her eyes glistened. "You did more for me," she said, "you got my bird back. I care more for that bird than I could ever care for any boat. My brother brought it to me from Costa Rica."

She stepped back to the auto. The chauffeur was already in his place, and the two men were coiling up their ropes and piling the heavy planks and rollers on board the truck. The freshly painted boat was growing dim in the gathering darkness and the lordly hills across the river were paling into gray again. As the little group paused, a deep, melodious whistle re-echoed from the towering heights and the great night boat came into view, her lights aloft, plowing up midstream. The _Good Turn_ bobbed humbly like a good subject as the mighty white giant pa.s.sed. The girl watched the big steamer wistfully and for a moment no one spoke.

"Was your brother--fond of traveling?" Roy ventured.

"Yes, he was crazy for it," she answered, "and you can't bring _him_ back as you brought my bird back--you _can't_ do everything after all."

It was Tom Slade who spoke now. "We couldn't do any more than try," said he. He spoke in that dull, heavy manner, and it annoyed Roy, for it seemed as if he were making fun of the girl's bereavement.

Perhaps it seemed the same to her, for she turned the subject at once.

"I'm going to sit here until you are in the boat," she said.

They pulled the _Good Turn_ as near the sh.o.r.e as they could bring her without grounding for the tide was running out, and Pee-wee held her with the rope while the others went aboard over a plank laid from the sh.o.r.e to the deck. Then Pee-wee followed, hurrying, for there was nothing to hold her now.

They clambered up on the cabin, Roy waving the naval flag, and Pee-wee the name pennant, while Tom cast the anchor, for already the _Good Turn_ was drifting.

"Good-bye!" they cried.

"Good-bye!" she called back, waving her handkerchief as the auto started, "and good luck to you!"

"We'll try to do a good turn some day to make up," shouted Pee-wee.

CHAPTER IX

THE MYSTERY

"What I don't understand," said Tom, in his dull way, "is how if that fellow was drowned or killed that night, he managed to get back to this boat again--that's what gets me."

"What?" said Roy.

"What are you talking about?" chimed in Pee-wee.

They were sitting in the little cabin of the _Good Turn_ eating rice cakes, about an hour after the launching. The boat rocked gently at its moorings, the stars glittered in the wide expanse of water, the tiny lights in the neighboring village kept them cheery company as they chatted there in the lonesome night with the hills frowning down upon them. It was very quiet and this, no less than the joyous sense of possession of this cosy home, kept them up, notwithstanding their strenuous two days of labor.