Another night of deep, restful sleep followed, and in the morning they woke to find that it had snowed a good two inches already and was still at it. There was enough wind, however, to clear the ice in places, and they went skating again. A block of wood and three sticks gave them an hour’s fun at shinny, during which Joe fell down on an average of once a minute and occasioned no end of amusement for his companions. He limped noticeably while getting dinner and, during that meal, paused frequently to place a gentle inquiring hand on various surfaces. Later they tried fishing again, the snow, now coming down in larger flakes and in a more desultory fashion, adding to the enjoyment. Perhaps the pickerel disliked being out in a snowstorm, for the boys sat around the fire a long while, talking and listening to the hiss of the flakes against the embers, without interruption until there came a faint hail from across the lake and they descried dimly a horse and sleigh outlined against the snowy bank[128] beyond the distant turnpike and the figure of a man standing at the edge of the ice. “Better go and see what he wants,” said Bert, and they skated over. The man on the shore was a big, burly, red-faced individual, in a rough brown ulster and a peaked cloth cap. A second man remained in the sleigh beyond.
“You boys been around here long?” asked the man gruffly.
“Since day before yesterday,” replied Bert. “We’re staying at Mr. Norwin’s camp over there in the cove.”
The man rolled the remains of an unlighted cigar between his lips while his eyes, small but very bright and keen, ranged over the lads. Then: “Seen any one else around here this morning?” he asked.
“No, sir, not a soul,” Bert assured him.
The man’s gaze roamed across the lake and he nodded toward the deserted cabins there. “Ain’t seen any one around any of those camps?”
“No, they’re closed up tight. We were around there yesterday.”
“Ain’t been around to-day, though, have you?”
“No, sir, not yet.”
The man nodded. “Guess I’d better take a look,” he said more to himself than to them. “My name’s Collins,” he added then. “I’m Sheriff down to Pemberton. A couple of thugs walked into Robbins’s[129] hardware store at North Pemberton last night about nine o’clock and got away with three hundred and sixty-eight dollars in money and two Liberty Bonds. Old man Robbins was working on his books and had his safe open. They cracked him over the head and almost did for the old fellow.” To his hearers it seemed that Mr. Sheriff Collins dwelt almost lovingly on the latter portion of his narrative.
“That—that was too bad,” said Hal, rather lamely.
Mr. Collins grunted. “Guess he’ll pull through, though he’s pretty old to get bumped like he did. Well, you fellows keep your eyes open and if you see any suspicious characters around get in touch with my office right away, understand. They might show up here. You can’t tell. Last night’s snow came along pretty lucky for ’em, covering up their foot-prints like it did. Guess if it hadn’t been for the snow I’d have caught ’em before this.”
“Yes, sir,” said Bert, “we’ll keep a lookout. Only I don’t just see,” he added dubiously, “how we could let you know if we did see them. I don’t suppose there’s any telephone around here, is there?”
The Sheriff pursed his lips and studied the stub of cigar, which he removed for the purpose. “Guess that’s so, too,” he acknowledged. “There’s a ’phone at Old Forge, but that’s pretty nigh six miles. And[130] there’s one at Lincoln’s, up—no, there ain’t neither. He had it taken out last summer ’cause the city folks was always runnin’ in there to ring up Boston or New York or some place and always forgettin’ to pay for it. Well, there’s telephones down to North Pemberton, anyway, and—”
“How far would that be?” asked Bert innocently.
The Sheriff blinked. “’Bout eight or nine miles, maybe, by road: ’bout six if you take the trail.”
Bert grinned. “I’m afraid the robbers would get away before we reached the telephone,” he said.
“That’s my lookout.” Sheriff Collins spoke sternly. “It’s your duty as a citizen to let me know just as soon as you can if those fellers turn up around here, and, mind, I’m holdin’ you to it.” He glared hard a moment, rolling his soggy fragment of cigar in his mouth. Then he nodded, turned and scrambled back up the slope to where the sleigh awaited.
The boys skated back to the fire, replenished it and discussed the exciting event. The sound of sleigh bells coming ever nearer told them that Sheriff Collins was following the road around the lake to the empty cabins. Presently it passed behind them and became fainter. Joe looked thoughtfully along the curving shore. “You know,” he said, “those robbers might be around. We don’t know that they aren’t.”
[131]
Bert sniffed. “Pshaw,” he said, “they wouldn’t stay around here. They’d hike out for the city.”
Hal was thereupon prompted to tell just what he would do to throw the bloodhounds of the Law off his track in case he had committed a robbery, and then Bert indulged in a few theories, and thus a pleasant half hour passed, during which the Sheriff’s sleigh jingled back and past and out of hearing, presumably without the fugitives. Wearying of the subject under discussion, Joe presently arose and slid out on to the ice, where, thinking himself unobserved, he attempted a figure eight and promptly sat down. The resultant concussion was sufficient to attract the attention of the others, and Bert asked in a very disgusted voice:
“Gee, Joe, aren’t you ever going to learn to skate?”
“I don’t believe so,” replied Joe dolefully.
“Well, you never will until you do believe it,” said Hal decidedly. “You’ve got to have confidence, Joe. Just—just forget yourself a minute, you dumb-bell; forget that you’re skating and strike out as though you wanted to get somewhere and didn’t know you had skates on at all! Just—just let your skates do it!”
That may have been excellent advice, but Joe didn’t act on it. Discouragedly he returned to the dying fire. Bert viewed him with disfavor.
[132]
“You’re scared,” he said. “That’s your main trouble. You’re afraid you’ll fall.”
“So would you be if you were black-and-blue all over,” replied Joe spiritedly. “I don’t mind falling now and then; anyway, I ain’t afraid; but I don’t like to fall all the time!”
Hal laughed. “Why don’t you try tying a pillow behind you, Joe?”
Joe echoed the laugh, though faintly. “I guess it would have to be a—what do you call it?—bolster!”
“We aren’t going to get any fish to-day,” said Bert, “and I’m getting frozen. Let’s pull up the lines and go in.” Hal agreed, and, when the lines were up, he and Bert started toward camp. “Aren’t you coming, Joe?” Hal called.
“Not just yet,” Joe replied. “I guess I’ll stay out and—and fall down awhile!”
The others went on, laughing, leaving Joe the sole occupant of the broad frozen surface. It had stopped snowing now, and there was a hint of color in the west that promised clearing. Joe sta............