“Say! Hold on, there,” exclaimed Matt, whose larder was empty and had been for some time. “What do you want me to do?”
“We want you to stay right there on the bank until we can go up and land your provisions on the point opposite the mouth of the brook,” replied Joe. “You must keep out in plain sight, mind you, for if you go back into the woods we shall think you are up to something, and then you can whistle for your grub.”
As Joe said this he shipped an oar, and the skiff moved up the creek toward the point. The boys kept a close watch over Matt Coyle, but he never left the bank. He was biding his time, so he told his wife and boys. Joe and his friends had the advantage of him now, but there might come a day when he could catch them off their guard, and then they had better look out. If he couldn’t take vengeance on them this summer, he would do it next summer. He would follow them wherever they went; and if he couldn’t get a chance to steal every thing they had, he would make the country about Indian Lake so warm for them that they would be glad to go somewhere else to spend their vacations.
As Matt remained on the bank in plain sight and did not attempt to approach them under cover of the bushes, the boys landed the provisions, according to promise—that is, they put some of them on the point; but Roy was sharp enough to keep out about half a peck of the potatoes to be used in case of emergency. This being done, they pulled across the creek into the mouth of the brook to catch a mess of trout, which they decided to cook over a fire on the bank. The breeze was so strong that the lamp in their little stove would not burn in the open air, and they knew that if they put up their tent, Matt and his boys would have the advantage if they opened a fire of clubs upon them when they came after their potatoes and bacon.
It was well that they took these precautions, for when the squatter appeared on the opposite bank he was fierce for a fight. He and his backers were all armed with clubs, one of which was sent sailing through the air toward the skiff. Jim was sitting on one of the lockers, impatiently waiting to be called to breakfast, and the club, after glancing from the side of the boat, struck him in the ribs and tumbled him off into the creek.
