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"A nasty old cheat," he muttered; "does he take me for a child? Water, indeed! Strong water, then. I shouldn't a bit wonder if it was smuggled gin. But, there, I won't tell tales." "Ahoy there!" shouted the gardener. "Master Aleck, there's a sight more eggs yon other way." "Yes, I know," cried the boy. "Another time." Then to himself, "Bother his officiousness!
It would not stop at Garden River, but we should have to run out to it in our boat, so Aleck took up his position on the ridge of the roof to keep a look-out, and the first appearance of smoke round the point would be the signal for the boat to be got ready. I had frequently requested the stewards on the boats to bring me fresh meat from Collingwood on their up-trip.
By-the-way, my name is Fifield Aleck Fifield. What did you say yours was?" "I don't think I said," answered the boy, slipping into a woollen shirt many sizes too large for him; "but it is Winn." "Winn, eh? Good name. Belong to the Massachusetts Winns?" "My parents came from there, but I was born in Wisconsin." "Yes, yes. Just so. But, there! I musn't hinder you.
Aleck went on up town, as it was called, and the men hung themselves a little more over the rail and growled at the boys who were following the visitor, to "be off," and to "get out of that; now," with the result that they still followed the lad and watched him, flattening their noses against the panes of the fishing-tackle shop window, and following him again when he came out to visit one or two other places of business, till all the lad's self-set commissions were executed, and he turned to retrace his steps to the harbour.
"We've had a job put up on us," he explained, turning to Braddock. "Some smart aleck sent word to our branch that the real Jenison boy was a clown in this show. We got a note from some one who said he belonged to the show. They sent me up here on a chance that it was true. We had this picture in the office. The note says David Jenison joined the show three weeks ago.
"I took a million out of it, next to Carmack's Discovery an' went busted afterward, didn't I?" Alan nodded without speaking. "But that wasn't a circumstance to Gold Run Creek, over the Divide," Stampede continued ruminatively. "Ain't forgot old Aleck McDonald, the Scotchman, have you, Alan?
"Why should I go with you?" this with a drunken man's bravado. "You are my prisoner." Pierre stepped forward. "What is his crime?" he exclaimed. "How does that concern you, Pretty Pierre?" "He is my friend." "Is he your friend, Aleck?" What was there in the eyes of Sergeant Fones that forced the reply, "To-night, yes; to-morrow, no." "Exactly. It is near to-morrow; come."
It had been agreed that no outsiders should be told of the treasure hunt, so nothing was mentioned but a summer trip on a steam yacht. The day the Rovers and Aleck Pop left the farm was a clear one, and all were in the best of spirits. The colored man drove to the depot with Jack Ness and the trunks and dress suit cases, and all of the others went in the carryall, Randolph Rover driving and Mrs.
"Yes, it is easy to see that," said Arthur, laughing, and pointing to Aleck, who, indeed, was in lamentable case, having one eye entirely closed, a large strip of plaster on his head, and all the rest of his body more or less marked with bites.
"I mean that if you want to fish off our shore and wants a man to help with your boat you've got to ask some of us to help, and not get bringing none o' your wooden-legged cripples spying and poking about our ground." "Spy? What is there to spy?" said Aleck, giving the man a peculiar look. "Never you mind about that. You be off home, and don't you come spying about here with none of your glasses."
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