Part 25 (1/2)

”Did you see him go?”

”Why, yes...I...”

”Did you really see him set out on the road and depart?”

”Well, no...I don't know that I did. He went around one corner of the house, as I went around the other with Snider... Why? What do you mean?”

”He aint down under the wharf salting these gold-boxes or doing some other kind of monkey business with 'em? Hey?”

”Why, no,” I persisted, weakly, ”he's gone to Lanesport, I tell you.”

But the idea struck me for the first time,--”down under the wharf,”--that was where I had seen them both yesterday.

”Gone to Lanesport?” he continued, ”but you say yourself that you have only his word for it. Why should he go there today? That looked fishy to me, right on the start. Now the easiest way to account for that trick Snider did out there on the wharf is that there's someone down there hitching on another box or stuffing in that gold. It was a pretty good trick, and you saw how it took with them.”

”But they say that was real gold, and that those nuggets are real.”

”Of course they're real. What of it? They could buy that amount of gold ten times over--twenty times over--with what they've taken in this morning. And they expect another boat-load of suckers this afternoon. And this is only the beginning,--Snider's been rustling around amongst a lot of women and old people over in Lanesport, and they're about ready to make over their bank- accounts to him. They LIKE him, you know,--a lot of folks DO like just that kind of slippery snake. It's funny,--you'd think anyone with ordinary common-sense would grab hold of his watch and his small change, and hang on to it--hard, as soon as Br'er Snider hove in sight. But no,--they try to crowd their money onto him...

Real gold! Of course it was real,--that's what fetched 'em. They don't stop to think that there's no connection proved between the gold and the sea-water. What got 'em interested at first was old man Chick's reputation for honesty. He is honest,--no doubt about that, honest as the day is long. Only he's been fooled like the rest of 'em,--he was over here two weeks ago, and they did their trick for him then, with the tin box and the battery, and the blue and white powders, and all the rest of it. They gave him some of the gold they made then, and he carried it up to the city and had it a.n.a.lyzed. But they could make gold in J. Harvey Bowditch's tall hat just as well as in that old tin box.”

I had been thinking all the time he was speaking.

”Look here,” I said, ”I saw them down under the wharf, yesterday afternoon.”

”You did? Where?”

I told him all about it,--how I had seen them both on the platform above the water, what they were doing, and how guilty they had acted.

”There's a trap-door, then? Do you suppose you can point it out to me? Let's stroll down there now. Pretend to be talking about something else, and just cough when we are on the trap.”

It was not very easy to do. There were about thirty people standing on that little wharf, and they had left baskets, coats and shawls here and there, so that the standing room was pretty well covered. Besides, when I came to look for the trap-door I found I could hardly pick it out, it had been so skilfully made.

At last I thought we were on it, so I coughed, and the black-eyed man halted. He had been telling me some story all the time, and now he turned toward me and held out both his hands as if he were measuring the size of a fish or something. Then he pointed out into the bay, threw back his head and laughed. Finally he glanced down at the trap-door, looked up again quickly, and went on with his story. Then he moved off the door, looked down at it again, pinched my arm, and whispered: ”Say, I think I'll come back here this afternoon, and have another look at this.”

My back had been turned toward Mr. Snider all the time. He was still at the little table, folding up his certificates. Now I turned and glanced toward him, and found that he was watching us very intently. I turned again, and walked toward the end of the wharf. As I did so, the whistle of the steam-boat blew a loud toot, and the people began to crowd on board. I walked on with the rest, getting separated, for the moment, from my friend the black- eyed man. I saw him talking with two other men, and a little later saw Mr. Snider and Mr. Bowditch whispering together and glancing in my direction.

Well, I thought I was departing from Rogers's Island, and from Snider, for good and all. You would hardly believe how I got left behind. I heard someone say, ”Oh, here's the boy who is going to find my shawl for me!” and I looked around and saw a nice, smiling old lady.

”Mr. Bowditch says he won't let the steamer go, if you'll run up to the house and see if you can find my grey shawl,--I must have dropped it in the gra.s.s there, where we set down.”

I wouldn't have done it for Snider,--I would have suspected some kind of a trick. But I think the lady was sincere, and moreover you don't suspect an old person in a black silk dress, with gold spectacles, of laying plots and playing tricks. Her request was genuine enough,--Snider simply took advantage of it to let the steam-boat go without me.

I was less than five minutes in running up to the house, hunting in the gra.s.s until I felt sure the shawl was not there, and starting back to the wharf again. But while I had been out of sight of the ”May Queen” they had cast off the lines and steamed away. There she was, going merrily, her stern pointed toward the island, a trail of thick smoke floating back, the band playing ”After the Ball,” and no one paying the slightest attention to me!

Yes, there was though,--just one! The old lady in the black silk dress was standing near the stern waving her hands. I held up mine,--empty--to show that I had not found the shawl, and ran down the wharf shouting: ”Wait! Stop! Come back!”

It was a silly performance. No one heard me, and I do not suppose it would have made the slightest difference if they had. They would not turn the boat around and come back for someone who had no business on board anyway.

Mr. Snider was not in sight. Had he gone on the steam-boat? Or crawled through his trap-door underneath the wharf? I did not know, but I was angry with him. I felt sure that he had purposely let the boat go without me,--it was part of their scheme to keep me there, until the people had gone in the afternoon.

Now I should have to go that roundabout way by the road, and get to Lanesport two or three hours late. There was nothing else to be done, however, so I went up the wharf once more, and started along the road. At the turn, just beyond the house, I found Mr. Snider, walking up and down with his hands behind his back. His face was rather red, and he did not attempt to smile.

”Why, James,” he said, ”so you lost the boat! Well, you can take the one this afternoon.”