“That’s all gammon. He has laid a trap for me,” soliloquized the boy; and, alarmed by the thought, he gave a quick, strong stroke with the double paddle that sent the canoe ten feet farther away from the beach. Matt saw and understood, and for a brief moment a savage scowl took the place of the smile he had put on for the occasion. But it cleared away as quickly as it came, and then Matt smiled again.
“Have you got it?” said he, in insinuating tones. “Have you brung the money with you?”
“I’m powerful glad to hear it,” said Matt. “Come ashore an’ we’ll soon settle this business.”
“Back in the woods a piece. I hid ’em in the bresh, ’cause I thought that mebbe you would rather take ’em out yourself, so’t you could say you found ’em without tellin’ no lie about it. See?”
“That isn’t according to the agreement we made yesterday,” replied Tom. “I told you, as plainly as I could speak it, that you must put the guns into my canoe and I would find them there.”
“Well, how be I goin’ to put ’em in your canoe while you keep it twenty feet from shore?” demanded Matt. “You come up closter.”
“You go and get the guns. It will be time enough for me to get in closer when I see that you have got them.”
“An’ it will be time enough for me to get the guns when I see that you have brung the money with you,” retorted Matt, who was getting so angry that he could with difficulty control himself.
Tom laid his paddle across his knee and took a purse from his pocket, all the while keeping a sharp watch upon Matt Coyle, who had moved down the beach, inch by inch, until he was now standing in the edge of the water. Taking from the purse a small roll of bills, Tom held it up before his right eye and winked at the squatter with the other.
“There’s money; now where are the guns?” said he. “I thought you were in a great hurry to have the business settled.”
“I don’t believe there’s any fifty dollars in that there little wad of greenbacks,” replied Matt. “Lemme see you count ’em out on your knee.”
Instead of complying with this request, Tom shut up the purse and put it into his pocket. When Matt saw that, he could no longer restrain himself. With a sound that was more like a roar than a shout, he jumped into the water, his arms extended and his fingers spread out like the claws of some wild beast, and made a long plunge in the hope of seizing upon the gunwale of Tom’s canoe. But the boy was on the alert. With one stroke of the paddle he sent the canoe far out of reach, and in a second more Matt was floundering in water that was over his head. Knowing that he could not overtake Tom by swimming, he gave vent to his fury in a volley of oaths, and went back to the beach; whereupon Tom also returned, and took up his old position.