CHAPTER XXVIII

THE HOLD-UP

There was great discussion over the sermon preached at St. Felix Sunday night. Several people were very angry at the outspoken words, among whom was Henry Whittles. He made haste to see Lawyer Rackshaw, and poured out to him his troubles, and how he had been grossly insulted.

"It serves you right," was the unsympathetic reply he received. "If you will insist upon going to church you must not complain at what is handed out to you. I've cut loose from all such superstitious and sentimental gush, and I advise you to do the same."

"I intend to do so while that idiot is there," Whittles declared. "And to think that Abner Andrews was at church, too."

"He was!" and the lawyer looked his astonishment.

"Yes; and his family as well. Miss Rivers, the Attorney General's daughter, was with them, too, so I believe. Abner will have something to chuckle over now, all right."

"Let him chuckle, Hen. He won't do it long. Just wait till that trial comes off."

"When is that?"

"Pretty soon now. He'll chuckle on the other side of his face."

"But Parker upheld Abner in what he did. He said that any man who was not a coward would have done the same if Joe Preston had written such an article about his wife. In fact, he confessed that he would have done so himself if he had been in Abner's place."

"He said that, did he?"

"He certainly did, and if I'm not much mistaken his words will have a strong influence. It will be necessary for you to be on your guard."

Rackshaw made no reply, but sat and gazed thoughtfully out of the office window. In truth he sat there for some time after Whittles had left, and he seemed in no hurry to go on with his business.

The Live Wire made a great deal of the sermon, and scored Mr. Parker for going beyond bounds. It was the duty of a clergyman to preach the Gospel, so the paper piously announced, and to leave civic matters alone. It also hinted that a clergyman was very short-sighted who antagonized members of his flock, who were liberal supporters of his church. Mr. Parker had done this, and accordingly must expect to put up with the results. The real vital matter of a suitable Home for orphans was not mentioned, and no credit was given the Andrews for what they had done. This oversight was noted by many readers and severely criticized. In fact, the editorial did a great deal for Abner, far more than the writer imagined. It made thinking people realize how partisan and narrow it really was, and that the welfare of the community was not its main object.

This was brought out, too, in the accounts it gave of the coming election. The men it advocated were known to be unscrupulous grafters, who had carried on wholesale robbery for several years in connection with various government deals. A long description was given of a great political picnic, which was to be held that afternoon in the Parish of Granton on the opposite side of the river from Ash Point. The members of the county would be present, and there would also be several noted speakers. All were urged to attend, and to hear the "truth, and nothing but the truth."

Zeb Burns read these articles to Abner as they sat after dinner under the shade of a big maple tree near the workshop.

"Seems to me that paper's tryin' to knife that parson as well as me," Abner remarked, as he blew a cloud of smoke into the air.

"An' I guess it'll meet with about as much success," Zeb replied. "I wish I'd heard that sermon last night, Abner. It must have been a corker."

"It sure was, an' I never thought once of goin' to sleep. But ye should have seen Hen Whittles' face an' ears. Why, they was as red as the reddest beet I ever saw. Say, there goes the Bluebird, and he motioned to a steamer out upon the river. Wonder why she's up so early to-day."

"Fer the picnic, of course," Zeb explained. "She's black with people. They've come fer the peanuts, kill-at-first-taste cigars, lemonade, an' hot air. There's to be some great speeches over there this afternoon. How'd ye like to run across in ye'r yacht, Abner? Ye haven't had her out fer a long time."

"That's true. I've been too busy ashore. But I wouldn't go to that picnic fer a good deal. I don't want me morals spiled. All the gas-bags in the province couldn't change me, 'specially them fellers who are to speak this afternoon."

"They'll be after ye to vote fer 'em, though."

"Not on ye'r life. They think I'm luney an' too hard to talk to. Ho, ho, wasn't it funny the way they looked when they learned that we wasn't deaf after all?"

"Mebbe they'll hear about that sermon, an' they might change their minds."

"Sure, sure, ye kin never tell what people'll do. It's made a great difference at my house, anyway."

"It has? In what way?"

"Oh, I can't jist explain. But Tildy isn't nigh so cranky, an' Jess looks very happy. It may be that young feller who comes to see her, though I don't believe that's the full reason. They was all mighty sot up the way that parson stood up fer me last night."

"But how did he know so much about ye, Abner?"

"Blamed if I know. That's been puzzlin' me a great deal. Where he got all that information, an' had my mind turned inside out is more 'n I kin understand. Why, I never spoke to that feller in my life an' he seems to know me like a book."

Scarcely had Abner finished speaking when an auto swung up the road at a fast clip. It was about to pass when the chauffeur suddenly pulled up in front of the big maple. There were three men in the car besides the driver, and they were the very ones who had come to buy the gravel hill. They seemed to be in a great hurry.

"Good-day, gentlemen," the spokesman, Thomas Dillman, accosted. "Can you tell us what time the steamer from the city arrives here?"

"She's already arrived," Abner replied.

"Arrived! But she's not due here for half an hour yet."

"Can't help that. She's arrived an' gone. That's her smoke 'way up there," and Abner pointed up the river.

Exclamations of consternation burst from the three men at this information, followed by strong denunciatory language.

"What in the devil is the meaning of all this? Dillman demanded, looking fiercely at Abner, as if he were the cause of the trouble.

"Search me," was the reply. "Ye'll have to go an find out fer ye'rselves. I'm not runnin' the steamer nor the picnic."

"But we must be at that picnic," the man insisted. "It is absolutely necessary for us to be there. We are to speak, and the people will be expecting us. Confound that steamer! I shall certainly make it hot for the company. It has a government subsidy, too, and to think that we should be treated this way!

"That ain't nuthin' new," Abner explained. "We're more'n used to sich capers. That boat never knows her own mind. She comes an' goes any old time, an' doesn't mind one dang bit how people are put out. I'm mighty glad yez have got a good dose to-day."

"You are!" Dillman indignantly retorted. "You're a nice one. But this is not getting us over the river. How in blazes are we to get there? That's the important thing just now. Isn't there a boat we can hire?"

"S'pose you run 'em over, Abner," Zeb suggested.

"Have you a boat?" Dillman eagerly asked.

"Sure, three of 'em. Now, there's the canoe, the flat-bottomed boat, an'——"

"Oh, never mind telling us about them," Dillman impatiently interrupted. "Get us there; that's all we want. We'll make it worth your while."

Abner knocked the ashes from his pipe, and rose slowly to his feet.

"Jist wait a minute till I git me oars," he told them. "I guess I kin take yez."

There was a peculiar light shining in his eyes as he hurried into the house and returned a few minutes later. No one noticed that he had donned his coat, and that it was buttoned about him in a strange manner. Room was made for him in the car, and, telling the chauffeur where to go, in a few minutes they were at the shore on the upper side of the point. A short distance away the Scud was tugging at her anchor, for a stiff breeze was blowing in from the west. The tender was pulled up on the shore.

"Hop in," Abner ordered, "an' set still, all of yez."

It took them but a few minutes to board the Scud and get under way. A rude craft was this yacht which Abner had made with his own hands. She was small and her cock-pit was barely large enough to hold the three men. Here they crowded together and looked ruefully around. They were not accustomed to the water, and when the wind had filled her sail and the yacht began to careen to one side, they almost wished that they had never come. For a while the Scud glided steadily along, being somewhat sheltered by the point. But when once beyond this the full force of the breeze caught the boat, and the spray began to dash aboard. The three passengers clutched hard at the sides of the cock-pit, and looked anxiously around.

"Is this blooming thing safe?" one of the men gasped, when a larger spray than usual flung itself over them.

"Sometimes she is an' sometimes she isn't," was the laconic reply. "Kin yez swim?"

The three men shook their heads.

"That's too bad."

"Why, what do you mean?" Dillman asked. "Do you think she'll upset?"

"Can't say," Abner drawled. "Ye never jist know what queer kinks the Scud'll take. Only last month she played one of her funny pranks, an' upsot right near here with a wind no harder'n this."

"She did!" and the men's faces became suddenly white. "What did you do?" one of them anxiously enquired.

"Oh, jist climbed on her bottom until she drifted ashore. That ain't nuthin' fer me. I'm used to the water, an' could swim all day if I had to."

The man made no reply, but clutched the sides harder than ever as the waves increased.

"Yes," Abner continued, "this is a bad place when the tide's runnin' down an' the wind's blowin' up. Two men were drowned right out here a few years ago. They was in a bigger sailin' boat than this when a sudden squall struck her, an' she flopped right over. They couldn't swim, ye see. That's a bad piece of water ahead where ye see them white-caps. I have me doubts about gittin' through."

"Don't go through," the men begged. "For God's sake go back! We've had enough of this."

A gleam of triumph now shone in Abner's eyes. He gave the tiller a vigorous twist and brought the Scud full head to the wind.

"So yez don't want to go through, eh?" he queried.

"No, no. Go back."

"Well, I don't have to go through them white-caps, so what's ye'r terms if I go round 'em?"

"Terms! What do you mean?" Dillman gasped.

"Guess you fellers should know, all right. I want a settlement fer me gravel hill. That's what I mean, an' I intend to have it now."

The men understood most clearly the purport of these words, and their hearts became hot with anger. They realized the helplessness of their position, and how they were at the mercy of this man.

"You're a villain!" Dillman roared. "Do you think it's fair to get us into a tight corner and then hold us up like this?"

"De ye like it?" Abner asked with a chuckle. "How does it feel? Ye know now, don't ye? Ye'r tryin' to do the same with me, an' ye'r jist waitin' the first chance to steal me place. But, by jiminy, ye'll not do it as soon as ye think, not by a jugful, skiddy-me-shins if ye will. I've got yez here, an' here I'll keep yez till ye come to me terms."

"Good gracious, man!" Dillman exploded, "we can't do anything here. Wait until we get ashore and we'll talk this matter over with you."

"Not by a long chalk. Jist write out that ye'll give me fifteen thousand dollars fer that place, an' I'll land yez at the picnic grounds in no time. But yez better hurry up, fer the Scud's drifting fast toward them white-caps. Guess, though, I kin hold her nose up stiddy ferninst the wind a few minutes longer."

Dillman looked at the rough water, and then at the imperious commander.

"If this boat overturns," he at length remarked, "you'll go down, too, for you can't surely swim in a place like this."

Abner laughed, and threw open his coat.

"Look," he cried. "I've got a life-belt on. I never come here on a windy day without it."

The three men were now completely stumped and they looked imploringly around. But no help was in sight. A short distance away the water was raging where the wind and the tide were contending with each other.

"Hurry up," Abner ordered, "the Scud'll soon take them white-caps full astern, an' then good-bye."

Dillman's hand clawed at a note-book and fountain-pen in his vest pocket. He hesitated, however, and looked at his companions.

"Go ahead, Tom," they advised, "there's nothing else to do."

But Tom delayed, leaned over and whispered something to his comrades in distress. Abner could not hear what was said, though he noticed that they nodded their heads in approval.

"Say, we'll offer you five thousand," Dillman at once announced.

"Fifteen thousand or nuthin'," was the peremptory order. "You government fellers think nuthin' of throwin' that much around, an' a darned sight more, when it suits yez. I might as well have what's due me. Hurry up. Ye've got no time to waste."

With trembling hand Dillman put his pen to the paper, and rapidly wrote.

"How will that do?" he presently asked, handing the paper to Abner.

"Read it," was the order. "Me eyes are not good, an' it's all I kin do to handle the boat."

"'On behalf of the local government,'" Dillman read, "'we agree to give Abner Andrews fifteen thousand dollars for his place at Ash Point.'"

"That's good," was Abner's comment. "Now, sign it, the three of yez."

This was soon done, and in a few seconds the paper was placed in Abner's hand. The three men anxiously watched to see whether their captor would look at it, and they breathed more freely when he thrust it at once into his pocket without even a glance in its direction.

Abner at once threw over the tiller and the Scud swung around. Her sail filled, and she darted forward as if glad of her release. The wind had now increased, but the yacht, running dead before it, bore herself bravely. On and on they sped until at length the big picnic tent near the shore could be seen showing white amid its setting of verdant grass and waving trees. Ere long they could discern people moving about, and as they drew near the shore they could see that it was lined with people who had hurried down to watch the superior movements of the little craft, reeling onward, at times half smothered by the leaping waves.

With his passengers landed, Abner at once headed for home. He wondered why the politicians were so affable and had bidden him such a cheery good-bye. They did not seem one bit angry, and he saw them laughing and talking with one another as he sped away.

"Let 'em laff," he mused, "I've got the paper," and he thrust his hand into his pocket to be sure it was safe. "They can't fool Abner Andrews, of Ash Pint, not by a jugful, skiddy-me-shins if they kin."