CHAPTER VII. WADDIE AND I.

As nearly as I could judge in our place of concealment, the big fellow, who was the leading spirit of the conspirators, had been careful to keep the inside line of retreat from the tar-kettle to the boat. Of course, he expected us to retire in that direction; but when we distanced him in the chase he had moved directly to the water-side, while I had swept around in a much larger circle. As soon as he lost sight of us in the thick undergrowth, which had only been cut away on a few acres composing the picnic-grounds, he had made the shortest line for the boats.

“Where is your boat, Wolf?” asked Waddie, who was actually trembling with apprehension, though I could not blame him for being alarmed, since the villains were still on his track, and still intent upon subjecting him to the degrading ordeal.

“It lies about a quarter of a mile below yours, at the wharf,” I replied to my trembling companion.

“What shall we do?”

“We must keep still for a little while, till we see a good chance to reach the boat.”

“I am cold, Wolf,” said he.

Perhaps he offered this as an explanation of his shaking condition; but, although the weather was pleasant for the season, it was still chilly enough to render thick clothing quite comfortable. Above his boots the poor fellow had on nothing but his shirt and pants, and the former had been torn half-off by the wretches who persecuted him. I took off the heavy jacket I wore, and gave it to him.

“You will be cold yourself, Wolf,” said he, with a degree of consideration of which I did not believe him capable.

“No; I can get along very well. Put it on.”

“Thank you, Wolf; you are very kind.”

Those were amazing words to be uttered by him to me! But his father had been even more gentle, and had apparently forgotten all about me in a few days. He put on my coat, which fitted him very well, and I buttoned it up to the throat for him. He declared that it “felt good”; and I have no doubt it did, for the driving wind upon his bare shoulders must have been anything but comfortable.

“Do you know any of those fellows?” asked Waddie.

“I do not. I heard the big fellow call one of the others Martin, but I haven’t the least idea who any of them are. I suppose they belong on your side of the lake, and I haven’t seen much of the fellows there lately,” I replied.

“Do you think they belong to our institute?”

“I don’t believe they do. They are coarser, rougher fellows than the students on either side.”

“I should like to know who they are,” added Waddie, compressing his lips and shaking his head. “But whoever they are, if they don’t have to suffer for this, you may set me down for a ninny.”

“I think we had better get out of the scrape before we say much about punishing them. I am inclined to believe that big fellow will suffer from a sore head for a few weeks to come. I cracked him hard with this boat-hook.”

“Perhaps this sore head will enable us to find out who he is.”

“I hope so; but these fellows have been pretty cunning. I heard one of them say they had been on the watch for you several weeks.”

“I was a fool to come ashore here.”

“I don’t know why you were, unless you suspected something of this kind.”

“I hadn’t the remotest suspicion of anything. I don’t know of any reason why they should wish to treat me in this manner. I haven’t done anything to them.”

“But you don’t know who they are.”

“Well, I haven’t done anything to any fellows.”

“Are you sure of that, Waddie?”

“I don’t remember anything.”

“You don’t?” And it seemed very strange to me that he had forgotten the facts related to me by Dick Bayard.

“No, I don’t. Do you think I would lie about it?” retorted he, in a tone and manner which seemed quite natural to me.

“Didn’t you and some one else cowhide one of the town fellows some time ago?”

“Oh, that was four or five weeks ago. It couldn’t have anything to do with that.”

“Perhaps it may. These fellows say they have been on the lookout for you for weeks.”

“I had forgotten about that,” said he, looking meditative, and, I thought, chagrined. “But those fellows insulted me, especially a young cub, who threatened to thrash me. I gave him a dose the next day, which I think he will remember when he wants to be impudent to me.”

“Precisely so! And I am only surprised that you did not remember it yourself when you were tied to that tree with the tar-kettle before you.”

“Do you really believe that fellow is at the bottom of this affair?” asked Waddie, knitting his brows.

“I don’t know anything about it.”

“But that fellow was smaller than any of these.”

“Of course, I can give you no information, for I don’t know any of them. But we will talk over that matter another time. You stay where you are, Waddie, and I will take an observation.”

I crept for some distance through the cow-path in the underbrush, till I heard voices near the lake. I could not see the ruffians, but I judged by the sound that they were moving toward the wharf where Waddie’s boat was moored. I proceeded still farther toward the lake, and, emerging from the bushes, I discovered all four of the wretches on the wharf. The two whom I had imprisoned in the cabin of the _Belle_ had broken out, as I had anticipated, or, possibly, the other two had released them. I feared that they had ruined, or badly damaged, my boat, and I was very anxious about her.

I hastened back to the spot where I had left Waddie, and conducted him to a position near the open woods. I did not think it expedient to exhibit ourselves yet, and we waited an hour or more in our concealment. I could not see Waddie’s persecutors. They did not attempt any further pursuit. Probably they supposed we had started on foot for Centreport, and, doubtless, they deemed it proper to consider what steps were necessary to insure their own safety, for they knew very well that Colonel Wimpleton would turn out the whole town in pursuit of them as soon as he heard of the attempted outrage.

“By the great horn spoon!” exclaimed Waddie, who was becoming very impatient after an hour’s anxious waiting, “there they are, going off in my boat!”

“Good!” I replied. “They couldn’t do anything that would suit me better; that is, if they have not sunk or smashed the _Belle_.”

This thought gave me a severe pang, and I almost groaned as I thought of my beautiful craft ruined by these malignant wretches.

“No matter if they have, Wolf. My father will pay for making her as good as ever she was,” said Waddie.

“But I am engaged to go up the lake in her with a party on Monday morning.”

“We will pay all damages, so that you shall not lose a penny. But I’ll bet you won’t want to go up the lake next week in the _Belle_,” he added warmly.

I did not care to follow up the significance of this remark, for I had not much confidence in the fair-weather promises of the Wimpletons. I judged that he intended to do some great thing for me. Perhaps he only flattered himself that he meant to be magnanimous and generous. He was as impulsive in his loves as in his hates; and, though he adhered to the latter with extraordinary tenacity, the former cooled off very suddenly.

“Do you suppose those fellows know how to handle a boat?” I continued, as I saw Waddie’s sloop go out into the lake under full sail.

“I hope not,” replied he, with energy. “But I wish they were in your boat, instead of mine, for then they would go to the bottom if they upset her.”

“I hope they won’t be drowned,” I added, as the boat heeled over so that her gunwale went under.

“I don’t care if they are.”

“Be reasonable, Waddie.”

“I am reasonable. What do you suppose I care for the villains, after what they have done to me?”

“Love your enemies, Waddie. Return good for evil.”

“It’s easy enough to talk; but I don’t believe much in that sort of stuff.”

“It isn’t stuff, Waddie. If I had acted on your principle, you would have been tarred and feathered before this time.”

“You won’t lose anything by what you have done, Wolf,” replied he rather sheepishly.

“I don’t expect to make anything by it.”

“You will.”

“That isn’t the idea. If I had acted on your plan, I should have taken hold and helped those fellows impose upon you. I don’t ask or expect anything for what I have done. I have made enemies of these chaps, whoever they are, for the sake of one who drove me out of Centreport, hit me a crack in the face the other day, and told me squarely that he hated me.”

“You wait, Wolf, and see what you will see.”

“I don’t ask anything, and I won’t take anything for what I have done. I only want you to have ideas a little different about other people.”

“It’s no use of talking; you may be a saint, but I can’t be one,” said Waddie impatiently. “I think those fellows will swamp the boat; but she has air-tanks, and can’t sink.”

“We needn’t stay here any longer. You can go up-town in my boat. I think we may as well be ready to pick those fellows up when they upset.”

“I will try to find my clothes,” said Waddie, as he moved off toward the tar-kettle.

I went down to my boat. She lay just as I had left her, except that the two glass ports in the trunk of the cabin were broken. The prisoners had evidently attempted to reach the lock by thrusting their arms through these apertures. Whether they succeeded or not, or whether they were released by their companions outside, I do not know. Beyond the breaking of the glass, no injury had been done to the _Belle_. The padlock and key were both there. I hoisted my reefed mainsail, and stood up to the wharf, toward which Waddie was now walking, with his coat and vest on his arm.