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Updated: June 21, 2025
Thence across East Penobscot Bay, by Deer Island Thoroughfare, to the granite wharf at Stonington, the rockiest town in the United States. Here they disembarked, and a short walk up a side-street brought them to the house of Spurling's uncle, Mr. Thomas Sprowl. Uncle Tom was at home, confined by his rheumatism and the doctor's orders. He greeted the boys gladly.
Then he came to a point where the staler tracks, which were Spurling's, had branched out into mid-stream to round the bend; but he saw to his horror that Strangeways' had kept on to the left by the winter trail, toward the spot of which he had warned him he had even suspected that that final warning was a trap. Ah, there he was straight ahead of him; he could see him distinctly now.
Why don't you speak?" He was within five yards of the silent group under the spruces when Spurling's voice rang sharply out: "Halt there!" At the same instant he flashed the ray from his electric lantern straight into the captain's face. Brittler stopped short, as if struck by lightning. His jaw dropped, and a ludicrous look of alarm and bewilderment overspread his features.
Here, about the base of a tree, the snow had been recently trampled and a fire smouldered. It was Spurling's first camp. Granger, having unharnessed and fed his huskies, taking his axe from his girdle, cut down a sapling fir and roused the dying embers to a blaze. The flames shot up, and, climbing the bark of the tree, crackled among the branches overhead.
Returning to the river he sought in vain for Spurling's tracks; either he had passed him in the blackness or they had been obliterated. He would know the truth in the next six hours for, if he were still ahead, he would come to his abandoned camp. Towards sunset he halted and lit a fire; he intended to travel through the night and was in need of rest.
Then little by little she began to go astern. With sinking heart Percy watched Spurling's shoulders rack and twist as he threw his last ounce into his sculling. By degrees his motions became slower and more painful. Suddenly he pulled in the oar and dropped it clattering aboard. "No use!" he groaned as he toppled backward and collapsed in the bottom of the dory. Consternation seized Percy.
Did she know that? She nodded. How did she know that? She shuddered, and pointed with her hand out of the window in the direction of the bend. He did not gather what she meant, but for the present he let it pass. And did she know that there were a thousand dollars offered for Spurling's capture? She shrugged her shoulders, and again gave her assent.
In those few seconds whilst he withdrew himself, the whole portentous problem was argued out, "By how much is this man who intends, better than that man who accomplishes his crime?" He concluded that the difference was not one of virtue, but only of opportunity which entailed no credit on himself. He had passed through Spurling's temptation scatheless, therefore he could afford him tenderness.
All aboard for the fishing-grounds!" Spurling's voice, reinforcing the last echoes of the alarm-clock, dispelled Percy's inclination to roll over for another nap. Jim's strong tones carried a suggestion of authority which the younger lad was half minded to resent. He swallowed his pride, however, rolled out, and dressed.
He poured out the dust and nuggets above Spurling's grave; it was the thing which he had loved most in life, as some men love goodness and flowers. To both Spurling and himself it was worthless now; but it was the only offering which he had. Leaving the mound sparkling white and yellow in the sunshine, he struck the trail down the Last Chance River, returning to Murder Point.
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