Part 35 (1/2)
”There is Mr. Carrington, and the Widow Pennover for two, and then Squire Paget is pretty well fixed, I imagine.”
”Squire Paget, eh? Is he the squire of the place?”
”Yes, sir.”
”Rules it pretty well, I suppose, if he's rich,” and Martin laughed in a style that had little of reality in it.
”I don't know what you mean by that,” returned Ralph, in perplexity. ”He is squire, that is all. He owns quite a deal of property and he lives on the rent money.”
”Pretty nice town,” put in Toglet. ”I wouldn't mind owning a place there myself. Do you own a place?” he went on, with a.s.sumed indifference, while he listened eagerly for the reply.
”Yes, we own a small place close to the Eastport bridge.”
”Oh, yes. That's a valuable spot.”
”We own more of the land, from the bridge up, but we can't prove our right to it,” added Ralph.
”That's too bad.” Toglet and Martin exchanged glances. ”What seems to be the trouble?” went on the former.
”The papers my father had are missing, and we can do nothing without them.”
”You do not know what has become of the papers?”
”No, sir. We are advertising for them, but so far we have not received any information concerning them.”
”But can't you get duplicates from the former owners of the ground?”
”No, sir. The former owners are all dead, and the property fell into my father's hands in a roundabout way. You see, when he got it the land was worth but very little, and no great care was taken of the papers in consequence.”
Toglet nodded, as though to indicate he understood. Then, while Ralph was busy starting the sloop on another tack, Toglet leaned over and whispered to his companion:
”That's the bottom of it, Sam.”
”I shouldn't wonder,” returned Martin, in an equally low tone.
Ralph heard the whisper, but paid no attention to it, thinking the men were discussing something not meant for his ears. He turned over on the new tack, and once more the sloop went along on her course, throwing up the fine spray over the bow.
”We'll be able to get home faster than we are now sailing,” remarked Ralph.
”We'll have a good wind all the way.”
”Unless it dies out,” returned Martin, and there was just a trace of nervousness in his tone.
”It won't die out,” replied the young boatman, confidently, as he cast his eyes about the sky. ”This breeze is good until some time after dark.”
”When will we be able to reach the islands?” asked Toglet.
Ralph looked at watch.
”It is now quarter to ten. We'll reach the lowest of them by eleven o'clock, and the big ones quarter of an hour or so later.”
On and on up the lake sped the sloop. The villages on the sh.o.r.es had been left far behind, and now nothing but trees and bushes appeared upon either bank.