CHAPTER XXIII
GUS
"Hey, fellow! What you do?" The voice came from among the pines, and Gusturned to see a dark-skinned, black-eyed young man, of about twenty-fiveor more, coming toward him. Gus stopped.
"You shoot in these woods?" asked the man.
"I reckon I might an' I reckon I do if I kin find any durn thing fer t'shoot," said Gus, easily falling into the native vernacular.
The man approached and the boy quickly observed that the pocket of theloose coat, worn even this hot day, bulged perceptibly, and the man puthis hand within it. He showed an interest in the shotgun and extendedhis hand.
"Where you get so fine gun, eh?" he questioned.
"Man give her t' me fer beatin' him at shootin'." This was literallytrue, the said man being Mr. Grier. "He's a sportin' feller, but hedon't shoot no more. Hain't seen him round these here parts fer twoyear."
The fellow took the fowling-piece and looked it over. He said:
"I buy her, eh?"
"You couldn't buy her if you had her heft in gold," said the boy. "An'you couldn't shoot her, anyway--not to hit anything. Could you get abird with her goin' like a bullet through these pine trees? Shucks! Ikin."
"No! Yes? I get you shoot for me, eh?" handing back the gun.
"Shoot fer you? How?"
"You don't like law policemans, eh?"
"You wouldn't like 'em if they chased you fer shootin' when the gamelaws was on."
"I think of that. You come into woods along of me, now, eh? I show youwhat do and how make large lot money. Big! And maybe how shootpolicemans to keep away. Big money you get."
"Lead me to it!" said Gus, his swift guess at what might be comingmaking him shove in a less backwoodsy phrase.
Without another word the man started along a tortuous and narrow pathand Gus followed for more than half a mile. They were just off thethoroughfare when they started, but the youth could hear the distantbooming of the ocean waves on the beach before they stopped.
To the right, with a roof seen above the low underbrush of young pines,holly and sweet gum, was a building of some kind toward which the pathturned abruptly. A hundred yards ahead the woods ceased, and Gus knewthat beyond were the ever-shifting sand dunes crowned with theirshort-lived scrub oaks or pines and tufts of beach grass which bordereda wild and lonely shore for many miles. Twelve miles to the south was asomewhat popular seaside resort.
Gus had not crossed the woods at this spot, though he had at some othervery similar places. He had been all along the beach and had boated onthe thoroughfare clear to the inlet. This was nowhere deep enough foreven a large sloop. But he was thinking less of this than of a verypossible opportunity that seemed to loom ahead.
"What your name?" asked the Italian.
"Sam is my name," said Gus.
"Now then, Sam, you stay here. If some man who no business has here cometo look, you give order to go--see? You say this your father's groundand no--what you call?--trespass. All this day you stay. To-morrow youcome, also. Two dollar you get each day, eh?"
"Thought it was _big_ money. Mebbe I'll have t' shoot somebody an' Iwill, quick. But----"
"We give three dollar, Sam, and you stay with us. If not and somebodycomes you get nothing but this." The man slapped his pocket. "But no, wefriends, eh? And you will shoot?"
"You bet I will!" said Gus, and meant it. But whom would he shoot? Hewas not saying.
The man went toward the building and presently came back with a modern,high-powered rifle. He edged off through the woods to the left. After awhile he came back with another fellow and they fell to talking in alanguage which Gus could not understand. They stopped for the new man tolook Gus over and the boy turned his head to gaze at none other than hislate schoolmate and bitter antagonist, Luigi Malatesta!
The general resemblance between the two men made Gus know that he hadbeen talking to the older brother. Luigi, the younger, went off. At thatdistance he could not have recognized Gus, though for one moment the boyhad a queer feeling, a real bit of fright, but not enough to rob him ofthe quick sense to be ready with his gun if his enemy had guessed hisidentity. On second thought Gus felt pretty sure that if he kept hisragged hat well pulled down Luigi would never know him.
And Gus was tremendously elated, so much so that he could hardly keepfrom prancing or slapping himself; but the danger of what he meant todo, and to do quickly, kept him from undue exuberance.
The elder Malatesta brought one other fellow, evidently an American, totake a squint at Gus. Gus called the Italian over:
"How many of you got here, hey? I don't want t' shoot one of----"
"Not any more; three of us; you four."
"What is all this fuss fer?" asked Gus.
The fellow seemed to ponder a moment. "I tell you," he said, as thoughwith sudden conviction. "In the hut yonder is crazy man. Our brother,yes. We love heem, ver' much. But he malsano--insane--lika fury.And we disgrazia. But he not go to a silo--hospital and treat bad.Oh, no! We swear it! They want getta heem. We hid heem and give heemtreatment--medicine, lika say great doctore. Doctore come twoday--more tardo. We guard brother ver' fierce--fight--fight! No letgo--no let policeaman come. See?"
Gus nodded slowly. It was a well-told yarn, a plausible lie. In a goodcause could he not take a turn at that?
"By cracky, you're dead right t' make 'em mind their own bizness! It'syour bizness, ain't it? I'd serve 'em that-away, too. I'll bluff 'em,an' shoot, too, if I got t'. Where's these other two standin'?"
The man indicated a spot to the left, another beyond the cabin, and hisown position toward the beach. They probably stood on sentry duty mostof the time. Gus was given the most dangerous place, the one most likelyto be the way of approach. Well, he'd better act, and quickly, if hedidn't want the officers of the law to step in ahead and spoil his ownplans.
Gus waited until he felt sure the men had taken their places again. Thenhe contrived a neat bit of strategy that was almost too simple. He meantto get a peep in yonder building, or hut, as the elder Malatesta hadcalled it, and he meant to do this at once. Rapidly and silently hesneaked through the woods until he stood close behind the Americangunman who sat drowsily on a log, his gun across his knees.
"Say, bo, get next. They's a couple o' men sneakin' through the woodsround beyon' you. They ain't comin' my way. Lay low an' watch 'em." Theman crouched.
Gus crept back and then out toward the beach where, by sheer good luck,he came across both Malatesta brothers talking. When they were still ata little distance from him he told them the same story and instantly theelder was on his guard while the younger brother left, crouching as heprogressed toward his station. Gus, also crouching, went back quickly.
The boy felt sure that these fellows were armed and that they wouldremain fixed for a very considerable time--all of them well out of sightof the building. Cautiously at first, then almost running, Gus followedthe path right up to the door of what was really a stout log cabin, theone window barred with heavy oaken slats, recently nailed on, and thedoor padlocked. Gus went straight to the window, thrust aside a bit ofbagging that served for a curtain and peered within. Speaking hardlyabove a whisper, he said:
"Hello, in here! Who are you? Is it Tony Sabaste?"