# Snagged and Sunk/Chapter 16

CHAPTER XVI
AT THE BOTTOM OF THE RIVER.
MATT COYLE would have been utterly confounded if he had known, or even suspected, how completely his family had been broken up by the events of the last few days. He labored under the delusion that Jake and Sam had run away simply to escape the punishment they so richly deserved; but they had only made a bad matter worse. Matt told himself, for they would be obliged to return sooner or later, and then they might rest assured the promised whipping would be administered with added severity. But Jake and Sam had gone away with the intention of staying away. They were afraid of their brute of a father, and the cold chills crept all over them whenever they thought of the New London jail. They could not see the justice of being beaten or locked up for something they did not do, and the only recourse they had was to go to those whom they had been taught to regard as their enemies—the guides and the officers of the law. With the exception of his wife, the squatter's family had all turned against him. Her he found dozing over a fire on the bank of a cove. Without saying a word Matt walked up and showed her the valises.
"What's them, an' where's the boys?" she drowsily asked.
"Now listen at the fule!" shouted Matt. "Ain't you got a pair of eyes? Them's the six thousand dollars that's been a-botherin' of us so long, an' the boys have run off to get outen the lickin' I promised 'em. But they'll come back when they get good an' hungry, an' then I'll have my satisfaction on 'em. You've got a little bacon an' a few taters left, I reckon, ain't you? Well, dish 'em up, an' I'll tell you where I've been an' what a-doin' since I seen you last."
The dinner his wife was able to place before him did not by any means satisfy the cravings of Matt's hunger, and when it had been disposed of there was not a morsel of any thing eatable left in the camp; and, worse than that, Jake was missing, and there was nobody to steal another supply. Matt talked as he ate, and by the time he was ready for his pipe he had given his wife a pretty full history of his movements during the last two days.
"This ain't a safe country no longer after me tyin' Joe Wayring fast to a tree an' promisin' to lick him if he didn't tell me where the money was," said the squatter in conclusion. "He never had the money, Joe didn't; Sam knew where it was all the while an' never told me. But Joe won't be none the less mad at me, an' I reckon I'd best be lookin' for new quarters for a while. I'm goin' to take the money an' skip out. I do wish in my soul I had a boat. I'd run a' most any risk to get one."
"Where would you go?"
"I'll tell you," replied Matt confidentially. "I've been studyin' it over as I come along, an' have made up my decision that I'd be safer if I was onto their trail 'stead of havin' them on mine; so I'll put as straight for Sherwin's Pond as I can go an' stay there till the thing has kinder blowed over."
"An' what'll I do?" inquired the old Woman.
"You? Oh, you ain't done nothin' that the law can tech you for, an' you had better hang around Rube's an' get your grub of him. You can pay him for it by slickin' up his house an' washin' dishes for him, you know."
"What's the reason I can't have some of the six thousand to pay him with?"
"Now listen at you!" vociferated Matt. "Don't you know that if you should offer him money he would know in a minute that you had seen the six thousand an' have you took up for it? I tell you, ole woman," added the squatter, who was resolved to hold fast to every dollar of his ill-gotten gains as long as he could, "my way is the best; an' if you ain't willin' to it, you can jest look out for yourself. Now I'm off. I'll be back directly the thing has kinder died down, like I told you, an' then we'll put out for some place where we can spend our money an' live like folks. Jakey an' Sam'll be back in a day or two, to-night, mebbe, an' they'll look out for you."
The old woman did not say any thing more, for she knew that it would be useless. She lazily smoked her pipe while Matt fastened the valises together and slung them over his shoulder as he would a knapsack, said "so-long" in a drawling, indifferent tone, and saw him disappear in the bushes.
"For the first time in my life I feel like I was a free man," soliloquized the squatter, as he lumbered away through the woods. "I ain't a-goin' to be bothered any more wonderin' where Jakey is to get a new pair of shoes ag'in snow comes, or how I'm to wiggle an' twist to find Sam a new coat, or ask myself whether or not the old woman's got bacon an' taters enough for breakfast. Rube'll take care of her, 'cause he'll suspicion right away that I've got the money an' that I'll be sure to come back to her some day. I'll take care of myself; an' as for the boys—I won't think two times about them ongrateful scamps. They tried their best to cheat me outen my shar' of this money, an' now I'll see how much they'll get."
The squatter continued to talk to himself in this style during the three hours he consumed in reaching the "old perch hole" at the mouth of the creek, which must be crossed in some way before Matt could fairly begin his journey to Sherwin's Pond. What he was going to do or how he was going to live after he got there, seeing that there were no farmers in the immediate neighborhood upon whom he could forage, Matt had not yet decided; but when he found his progress stopped by the creek he told himself that he might as well rest a bit and smoke a pipe or two while he thought about it. He hunted up a log and seated himself upon it, but almost instantly jumped to his feet and dived into the bushes. It was at that very moment that our party came into the creek. By "our party" I mean Joe Wayring, Arthur Hastings, and Roy Sheldon in the skiff, and Mr. Swan, whose canoe was towing behind. As I have before stated, I occupied my usual place on the skiff s stern locker, where I could see every thing that went on and hear all that was said. On this occasion I saw more than any one else did. I had a fair view of the valises on Matt's back as they were disappearing in the thicket, but I can't imagine how they escaped the observation of the sharp-eyed guide who sat facing the direction in which the boats were moving. I afterward learned that Matt heard Mr. Swan's voice when he cautioned the boys to speak in a low tone, and be careful how they allowed their oars to rattle in the rowlocks, and I know that when he cast off from the skiff and led the way up to creek the squatter stole silently through the woods and kept pace with him.
"That was a close shave, wasn't it?" chuckled Matt, peeping through the leaves to mark the position of the boats in the creek and then dodging back again. "A little more an' they' d have ketched me, wouldn't they? Now, what did they come in here for, an' where be they goin', do you reckon? I'd most be willin' to say that I'd give a hundred dollars of this money if I had one of them boats of their'n. Then I could go all the way to the pond without walkin' a step. I'll jest toddle along with 'em an' see what they're up to; an' if they leave them boats alone for a minute they won't find 'em ag'in in a hurry."
The boats moved so slowly and the creek was so crooked that the squatter had no difficulty in keeping up with us. Indeed, he often gained half a mile or more by running across the points while we went around them. I have already told you what Mr. Swan and the boys did when they reached the mouth of the little stream that led from the creek to the cove. They found the camp deserted, as I have recorded, the old woman having set out for Rube's house very shortly after Matt left her alone; and when they came back to the creek, intending to go into camp there, they found their boats gone.
I thought all along that Matt was following us up the creek, for if I had not caught two distinct views of his evil face peering through the bushes I had certainly seen something that looked very much like it. All doubts on this point were dispelled from my mind before Joe Wayring and his companions had been gone five minutes. While they were moving through the evergreens to surround the camp, as the guide had directed, Matt Coyle came out and showed himself. The celerity with which that vagabond worked surprised me. He had made up his mind what he would do, and he did it without the loss of a second. He made the painter of Mr. Swan's canoe fast to a ringbolt in the stern of the skiff and shoved it away from the bank. Then he pushed off the skiff, stepped in as soon as it was fairly afloat, and headed it down the stream, using one of the oars as a paddle. Presently the current took us in its grasp and hurried us along at such a rate that we were around the first point before I fairly comprehended the situation. This was the second time, to my knowledge, that the cunning squatter had executed a very neat flank movement upon Mr, Swan and his party. Matt must have thought of it, for I heard him say,
"That's two times I've got the better of you when you reckoned you had me cornered, ain't it? Whoop-pee! Luck's comin' my way ag'in, sure enough. Now I'm all right. I'll take Jake's old canvas canoe, if I can make out to put him together, 'cause he's light to handle an' won't bother me none if I have to take to the bresh. The other boats I'll hide so't nobody won't never find 'em ag'in. But first I'll hunt me a good quiet place an' have a tuck-out. There's grub an' coffee an' sugar an' sich in the lockers of this skiff, an' I'm hungry for some of it."
"The country about was full of little water-ways, and Matt, being perfectly familiar with every one of them, had no trouble in finding the "quiet place" he sought. He paddled over to the farther side of the creek, kept along close to the bank for a mile or so, and then pushed the skiff into the bushes. The overhanging branches shut out every ray of light, and it was so dark that I could not see what sort of a place we had got into even when we stopped; but I heard the squatter moving around on the bank, and saw by the aid of a match which he struck on his coat-sleeve that he was lighting a fire. When the dry leaves and sticks he had gathered in the dark blazed up, I could see nothing but a solid mass of hemlock boughs above, and other masses, equally impervious to light, on all sides of me. It was a better hiding-place than the cove, and the squatter went on building a roaring fire, knowing full well that the blaze could not be seen from the other side of the creek where the discomfited guide and his puzzled young allies were standing, wondering what had become of their boats.
Having gathered wood enough to keep the fire going as long as he had use for it, Matt drew the bow of the skiff high upon the bank and proceeded to overhaul the lockers. With a contemptuous grunt he caught up Fly-rod, who was lying on the locker beside me, and tossed him into the bushes. A second later he sent Arthur's rod and Roy's to keep him company. The cartridges, which were intended for the boys' double-barrel shot-guns, and which he could not use in his old muzzle-loader, Matt incontinently dumped overboard; also the lemons, three gun cases, and as many portfolios filled with writing materials; but the pocket hunting knives and one double-bladed camp ax he laid aside for his own use. At last he came to the articles he was looking for—half a side of bacon, a whole johnny-cake, two canisters containing tea and coffee, another filled with sugar, and about half a peck of potatoes. He felt in every corner of the lockers in the hope of finding a supply of smoking tobacco; but that was something that never found a place in Joe Wayring's outfit.
Having provided himself with an excellent supper, Matt went ashore to cook it. First he opened the valises and placed them where he could feast his eyes upon their contents, and then he cut off several slices of bacon which he proceeded to broil with the aid of a forked stick. For a platter he used a piece of bark; and every time he put a slice of the meat upon it he would grab a handful of coins from one of the valises and allow them to run slowly through his fingers, laughing the while and shaking his head as if he were thinking about something that afforded him the greatest gratification. He spent an hour over the meal, then replenished the fire and laid down for a nap, covering himself with Roy Sheldon's warm blankets. When he awoke he cooked and ate another hearty supper, shook himself together, and declared that he felt better and in just the right humor to begin his lonely journey to Sherwin's Pond.
His first task was to put me together; and to my surprise and disgust he accomplished it with very little trouble. Then, in order to make sure that he had not overlooked any thing that he could use, he gave the skiff a second examination, and took possession of all Mr. Swan's provisions. Every other article belonging to the rightful owners of the boats he dropped overboard or flung into the bushes.
"Mebbe they'll find 'em ag'in some day an' mebbe they won't," muttered the squatter, as he extinguished the fire preparatory to shoving off in the canvas canoe. "But if they do it will be long after I am safe outen their reach. They'll never think of lookin' for me so nigh Mount Airy as Sherwin's Pond is, an' there I'll hide as snug as a bug in a rug till my grub's gone, an' then—why, then I'll have to steal more, that's all."
In a few minutes Matt had pushed the canvas canoe through the bushes into the creek, and was plying the double paddle with sturdy strokes. He could travel in the dark as well as by the light of the sun, and he did not go a furlong out of his course during the whole of the journey. Neither did he have a pleasant time of it. From the hour we started to the time we arrived within sight of Sherwin's Pond the rain fell in torrents. This was a point in Matt's favor, for it was not likely that sportsmen or tourists would venture abroad in such weather unless necessity compelled them; but the unusually high water that came with the rain was to his disadvantage. Indian River ran like a mill-sluice, and the current, strong at all times, became so turbulent and powerful, and its surface was so thickly covered with driftwood and trees that had been floated out of the lowlands, that canoe voyaging was not only difficult but dangerous as well. On one occasion I barely escaped being stove all to pieces. This frightened the squatter so that he gave up traveling by night, and took to the water only when he could see where he was going and what obstacles he had to encounter. More than that, he converted the stolen blankets into bags^ put the cargo as well as the valises into them, and lashed them fast so that they would not spill out in case I were overturned by any of the floating débris. But that was a bad thing for Matt to do, as I shall presently show you.
The sight that met my gaze when we came where we could see Sherwin's Pond was one I never shall forget. That little body of water had a way of getting ugly upon the slightest provocation, but I never saw it in so angry a mood as it was on this particular day. It was filled with currents which were running in every direction; at least that was what I thought after I had watched the erratic movements of the logs and stumps that were swimming on its surface. Its numerous inlets had filled the pond more rapidly than its single outlet could relieve it; consequently the pond looked higher than the river, and going into it was like going up hill. Joe Wayring, fearless and skillful canoeist that he was, would have thought twice before attempting to go any farther; but Matt had grown reckless, having journeyed nearly a hundred miles without a ducking, and all he did was to hug the bank a little closer and put more strength into his strokes with the double paddle. He got along well enough until he came to the place where the mouth of the river widened into the pond, and then came the very disaster I had been looking for. Before Matt could tell what his name was, the current seized me and whirled me out into the middle of the stream as if I had been a feather, sending me there, too, just in time to receive the full force of a terrific blow from the roots of a heavy tree which came rushing along with the torrent. Nothing that was ever made of water-proof canvas could remain afloat after a collision like that. I rolled over and began filling on the instant; and while the eddies were whirling me about, and the gnarled and ragged roots of the tree were enlarging the hole that had been torn in my side, and I was sinking deeper and deeper into the water, I heard Matt Coyle utter one feeble, despairing cry for help, saw him make a frantic grasp at the slippery trunk of the tree as it swept by, and then I settled quietly down to the bottom of the river, taking the blanket-bags and their contents with me. This, thought I, is the end of every thing with me. I had expected and hoped to go to pieces in the service, but not in the service of such a fellow as Matt Coyle, who had undoubtedly made way with himself as well as me, while trying to do a most foolhardy thing. There was not one chance in a thousand that I would ever be found, or that the Irvington bank would ever learn what had become of its money. When Joe Wayring and his friends went home they might pass directly over me, and I would have no power to attract their attention, I knew Joe would miss me sometimes, but I wasn't so conceited as to think that he could not get another canoe that would more than fill my place. I thought of these things, and then I asked myself what had become of Matt Coyle. If he were a strong swimmer he might succeed in making a landing after the current had carried him a mile or so down the river, provided he could keep out of the way of the driftwood. One thing I was sure of. He would never find me or the money, either. Neither would any body else. If the squatter got ashore I did not see how he was going to live, for the rifle on which he depended principally to supply his larder during the winter was tied fast to my ribs. If he succeeded in evading the officers of the law, he would have to go to work. I didn't see any other way for him to do.
While I was lying peacefully in my bed at the bottom of the river, wondering how long it would be before the never-ceasing friction of the current would annihilate me utterly, some events that have a slight bearing upon my story were happening in the world above.