“I suppose we ought to go to the Sportsman’s Home at once and give those guns up,” said Loren, as he raked the coals together and threw on an armful of fresh fuel. “We’ll not touch the reward, of course.”
“Certainly not,” replied Ralph. “But I would freely give a hundred dollars, if I had it, to see Matt Coyle shut up for a long term of years.”
“But he will have a trial before he is shut up, and there is no knowing what secrets he may tell while that trial is in progress,” said Loren.
“You don’t know how that thought worries me,” said Tom. “It is on my mind continually. I wish you fellows wouldn’t give up the guns until I have seen Matt.”
“What good will it do to keep them?” asked Loren.
“I don’t know that it will do any good; but I should like to be with you when you hand them over to Mr. Hanson. I can’t go up to the Sportsman’s Home to-day, for I have a most disagreeable piece of work to do first. The sooner I get that off my hands, the sooner I shall feel easy.”
Tom ate but little breakfast, for he seemed to have lost all desire for food. He drank a cup of coffee, and then arose to his feet and said good-by, adding, as he pushed his canoe from the beach and stepped into it—
“I shall have something to tell you when I come back. I don’t know whether it will be good or bad, but when I see you again I shall know more than I do now.”
“Down to the hatchery. It was while I was on my way there day before yesterday that I met Matt. I have an idea that he hangs out somewhere in that neighborhood.”
Tom passed a very pleasant hour with the superintendent, who showed him every thing of interest there was to be seen about the hatchery, and took much pains to make all the little details of the science clear to him, even going back to the time of the Romans, among whom, it is stated by several writers, the art approached a remarkable degree of perfection; but it is doubtful if Tom knew any more about fishes when he went away than he did when he came. He was thinking of Matt Coyle, to whom the superintendent incidentally referred daring the progress of the conversation.
“When we first came here, of course we were empty-handed,” said he. “We set the traps in the outlet to catch fish so that we could get their eggs; but a few vagabonds of the Coyle stamp made it their business to cut our nets almost as fast as we could put them in. When we threatened to have them arrested, they replied that we had better let them alone or they would set fire to the hatchery. They said they would fish where they pleased, and nobody should stop them; but they have thought better of it, and don’t bother us any now. Matt Coyle and his boys are the worst of the lot. They steal every thing they eat and wear, but so far they have not interfered with us. When they do, we shall have them arrested, Hanson or no Hanson.”