CHAPTER XIX.
WITHIN THE TOWER.
Inside they found themselves in a circular room. The floor was bare, but fairly clean. Facing the door was a rusty stove, with an iron pot and a kettle smoking and steaming on it, in a way that gave promise of a speedy meal. For the rest, there was a rough table and several chairs set about in disorder. In one corner was a tall cupboard.
Their host approached this receptacle after he had set down his gun, and produced three tin cups, three tin plates and the accompanying knives and forks. Likewise, he set out bread, and salt and pepper casters. This done, he took off the pot from the stove, and with a ladle, dished out upon each dish a fairly generous portion of a kind of stew.
"There's water in that bucket in the corner," he volunteered, sitting down and beginning to shovel in his food with scant courtesy.
The lads filled their tin cups at the receptacle mentioned, and then fell to on the food, with what appetites may be imagined. Whatever their hardships had been, they had not interfered with their abilities as trenchermen.
While they ate, the man eyed them curiously, but he said nothing. In fact, once or twice, when Jack looked up and caught the fellow furtively eying them, the other looked hastily away, as if he had been caught in some mean act. In this manner the meal was eaten, and when it had been despatched the man spoke.
"You said something about paying," he grunted in his mumbling tones.
"Certainly," rejoined Jack; "how much do we owe you?"
"Well, now, considering that I have to use powder and shot for everything I get, and that you two lads have made a terrible hole in my larder, I don't think a dollar apiece is too much."
The man looked up, as if he half-expected the lads to refuse to pay this exorbitant sum. But Jack readily paid him, only remarking that they felt so much better that he would willingly have paid even more.
"And noo," began Sandy, "the question arises, what comes next?"
"Yes, how are we to reach some point where we can communicate with our friends?" asked Jack.
The man hesitated. Then, as if an idea had suddenly occurred to him, he spoke:
"There's a small steamer that rounds the islands regularly. She'll touch in here this evening. Tell you what you do—give me another dollar each, and I'll let you sleep upstairs in a room I have till it's time for you to catch the boat."
This answer seemed straightforward enough. At all events, Jack and Sandy felt so sleepy after their meal that they were ready to accept it without much hesitancy. Two more dollars were passed over, and then the man conducted them to a stairway at one side of the room. He mounted it, mumbling to himself all the while; but by this time the lads had come to the conclusion that the fellow was a sort of harmless eccentric, and did not pay much attention to his manner.
Up and up they climbed, circling the tower several times, it seemed, till they arrived at a small door opening off the staircase. The man opened this, and showed them into a room. It contained a rough bed and some scanty furniture. It had one window high up in the wall—too high for the lads to see out; but it was well-lighted and ventilated—the latter for the excellent reason that the window was always open. It was not glazed.
"There, I reckon you can make out there, all right," said the man.
As he prepared to leave the room, Jack reminded him of his promise to awaken them in time for the inter-island boat, in case they overslept.
"Don't worry," said the man, with more of a friendly air than he had yet assumed, "I'll take good care of you."
There was a sinister intonation in the way that he said this last which did not escape Jack's quick ear. But it was too late to worry now. If the man meant them harm, they were fairly in his power; and the only thing to do was not to let him see that they suspected him.
Removing their shoes, coats and waistcoats, the lads flung themselves down on the bed. Sandy, after mumbling a few sleepy comments on the strange place in which they found themselves, dropped off into profound slumber. Jack, in a pleasant sort of half-waking, half-sleeping doze, remained alert some minutes longer.
It was just as he was dropping off to sleep in good earnest that he thought he heard a queer noise at the door.
"It sounds as if some one had locked it on the outside," he muttered drowsily.
He started to arouse himself to investigate; but in the very act of summoning his drowsy faculties the boy's weariness overcame him. His tired limbs mutinied, his eyes closed, and he was off to dreamland as soundly as Sandy.
Hardly had he dozed off, when from the woods through which their guide had conducted them a short time before, Walstein and Dampier and two of the crew of the tug emerged. They had left Rangler in charge of the craft, with instructions to cruise in the vicinity and see if he could make out any trace of the fugitives. They themselves had made for the abandoned light-house to organize a thorough search of the island.
As they drew near to the light, the man who had entertained Jack and Sandy emerged from the door.
"Hullo, there, Bill Barkentin," hailed Walstein. "What's the news?"
"What's yours?" grumbled the man ungraciously, in much the same manner he had addressed the boys.
"The same old bear," laughed Dampier. "How is our prisoner getting along?"
"He's as obstinate as ever," was the grumbled reply. "Won't tell a thing about the government's plans in regard to us."
"You've still got him on close diet?" asked Walstein.
"Have I? Should say so. He's getting as thin as a rail; but he's just as obstinate as an old army mule. Won't tell nothing."
"Humph! Well, he'll talk after awhile. By the way, we'll have two other prisoners to join him before long."
"How's that?" grunted Bill Barkentin, without betraying any special interest.
"Why, two boys whom we were holding for ransom have escaped," rejoined Walstein. "They fled from the tug, and are now on this island some place. You know the island better than any one else. When we've had something to eat you had better guide us all over it on a thorough search."
"No need to search," grunted Bill Barkentin as imperturbably as if what he had just heard was not news to him.
"How's that, Bill?" asked Dampier, in a sort of mocking voice. It was plain that he despised this taciturn old keeper of the rascals' rendezvous.
"'Cos they're here now," announced Bill, replenishing his pipe, which had gone out.
"What!" exclaimed Dampier. "Do you mean to say, you old barnacle, that you've actually got those two lads in the tower?"
"Yep. They're tucked in their little bed at this very minute. I found 'em stuck in a marsh about four miles from here. As they had some money, I brought 'em here. I thought that after they got to sleep I'd get what coin they had and then turn them loose. But now I see things is different. They are your game, eh?"
"Never mind about the money, Bill," said Dampier, whose sallow face was beaming with ferocious delight; "the money they have is yours, Bill—all yours. Oh, what a stroke of luck, eh, Walstein?"
"I should say so," assented the leonine-headed ruffian. "Have you got them locked in, Bill?"
"We-el, you know Bill Barkentin," grinned the other, with a wink and placing one finger to the side of his flat nose, "I'll guarantee that they are safe for as long as we want to keep 'em penned up."
"Which will be till we hear from old Chisholm Dacre regarding how much he is willing to give up for his precious nephew and his chum," said Dampier.
Soon after this, the rascals, in whose power the unconscious boys were once more, entered the old light-house.
They made a hearty meal, with many jests and much laughter, in which the mysterious prisoner, who has been mentioned by them once or twice before, figured largely. To judge by their conversation, he was a man toward whom they cherished the utmost hatred and malice.