The Pony Rider Boys in Alaska

Chapter 3

Tad’s assailant hastily gathered the boy up. The man staggered slightly, as, after a hurried glance up and down the deck, he stepped toward the rail with his burden. Just then footsteps were heard.

“Hey! What are you doing there?” bellowed a voice. A man came running from somewhere in the after part of the ship. Butler’s assailant dropped his burden, dodged into a passageway in the deck-house, closing the door behind him and disappearing before the newcomer reached the door and threw it open. Then the rescuer turned to the unconscious Tad Butler.

“Well, here’s trouble!” he muttered. Taking up Tad’s limp form he carried it to where the light from the grating shone up. “It’s that freckle-faced kid. Somebody gave him a tough wallop,” growled the man. Tad’s rescuer was Sam Dawson, one of the Gold Diggers. “I reckon I’ll fetch him around if his neck isn’t broken.”

Laying the lad down on the deck where he would have plenty of air, the Digger worked over the Pony Rider Boy for fully five minutes before Tad returned to consciousness. Butler was too dazed to realize what had occurred.

“I’ll take you below now, my lad,” said Dawson.

“No, no. Not yet,” protested Tad. “Wait. I want to think.”

“Who was the fellow who hit you?” demanded Dawson.

“I–I don’t know,” stammered Tad.

“What did he do it for?”

“I–I don’t know. I–”

“You aren’t very strong on information, are you?” grinned the prospector.

“I want–want to see Mr. Darwood.”

“You can see him to-morrow. You’d better get into your bunk right smart. I’ll help you down.”

“Thank you. I’ll go alone–in a minute,” said Butler, pulling himself up by the rail to which he clung unsteadily. “I don’t want anyone to know. I’ll tell Mr. Darwood what I have to say.”

“Have it your own way. I’m going to follow along behind, to see that you get down all right,” answered the man.

“Thank you. I guess you saved me from getting a wetting,” said the boy, extending an impulsive hand. “Now I’ll go to my cabin. Please don’t say anything about this. Good-night.”

Tad’s progress below was slow and unsteady. Dawson watched him until the door of the cabin had closed behind the Pony Rider Boy.

“That’s a raw deal,” muttered the miner. “I’d like to punch the head of the fellow who would do that to a kid!”

Butler got into his bunk without awakening his companions. His head ached terribly, and it was a long time before he fell asleep. The next morning his head felt twice its ordinary size. The boys joked him on his appearance, but Tad merely smiled, refusing to say what had been the matter with him. Ned was suspicious. He knew that Butler had been engaged in a scuffle, but what it was he was unable to imagine. Tad had been strolling about the decks all the morning, as if in search of someone. He found the man he was seeking late in the forenoon. The man was sitting on a keg of nails on the after part of the upper deck, his back to Tad.

“Good morning, Mr. Ketcham,” greeted the Pony Rider Boy.

The red-whiskered man whirled, letting the hand that had been caressing his beard fall limply to his side.

“Beard hurt you?” questioned Tad sweetly.

“None of yer business!” was the surly reply.

“Mr. Ketcham, I know you and I know your game,” began Butler in a low, even tone. “I know, too, that you are the man who assaulted me and tried to put me overboard.”

“I don’t know what ye’re talking about,” growled Sandy.

“Oh, yes you do–and so do I! I’ve a handful of whiskers which match perfectly those you are wearing. Shall I pull some more for comparison with those I already have?” questioned the boy aggravatingly.

Ketcham half rose, then settled back again, as if fearing to trust himself.

“You may be thankful that you didn’t do it. My companions would have taken care of you, had anything happened to me,” Tad went on composedly. “I want to say, now, that it would be good judgment on your part not to try any more strong-arm tactics on me or on my companions. If you do, you will instantly find yourself in more kinds of trouble than you have ever before experienced. Now that we know you, we shall be able to take care of you as you deserve. I reckon you know what that means, Red Whiskers.”

“Get out of here, before I do something to you!” roared Sandy.

“Oh, no you won’t! You don’t dare raise your hand. I could turn you over to the Captain and have you placed in irons till we get ashore. I have proof enough to send you to a jail, if they have such places up here. But I’m not going to do that. I am going to be fair with you and tell you exactly what I propose. I am going to tell Curtis Darwood about you. No, I shan’t tell him who it is. I will tell him that someone is following and watching him–you and Ainsworth. He will find you out, never fear. I will give you one chance. Get off at the next stop, and I will tell him after we leave there. Take your choice. Take your friend with you. I don’t want to be responsible for any shooting on this boat. What do you say, Mr. Sandy?”

The fellow’s fingers opened and closed nervously. He attempted to speak but failed three times. Finally he blurted out his answer:

“Will you git out of here? I’ll lose myself in a minit; then I won’t answer for what I do.”

“Never mind,” answered Tad laughingly. “I can take care of myself. Your kind never did scare me worth a cent.”

Sandy sprang up. He hesitated for a few tense seconds, then strode forward with Butler’s soft chuckle in his ears.

The two men did get off when the boat stopped late that afternoon. Tad was at the rail watching them. Sam Dawson was also an observer of the scene. He saw the threatening scowl that Ketcham gave the smiling Tad, and drew his own conclusions, and at the same time decided that the freckle-faced boy was pretty well able to hold his own. Dawson really suspected part of the reason for this hasty disembarking, though he thought it was because Tad had threatened to expose the man Ketcham.

It was after supper when Tad called Ned Rector aside.

“I promised to tell you, Ned. Come with me and listen to what I am going to tell Mr. Darwood.”

Ned went willingly. Darwood was sitting on deck. Tad halted before him, Darwood glancing up at the boys with languid interest.

“May I speak with you?” asked the lad politely.

“I reckon there’s nothing to prevent,” was the careless answer.

Tad went direct to the point of his story.

“A night or so ago I chanced to overhear two men who were passengers on this boat talking of you and the gentlemen who were with you. They were planning to follow and watch you. They thought you had discovered the claim for which you have been looking for so long.”

Darwood shot an angry glance at the boy.

“Go on,” he growled.

“From their conversation I inferred that perhaps you already had discovered this claim and were on your way with equipment to work it. I further understood that they were to be met by others on shore and that the party was then to divide up and cover the movements of yourself and your friends. One of these fellows, I think, overheard me telling part of this story to my friend, Ned, last night, and the man tried to throw me overboard, after nearly squeezing me to death and then punching my head. I merely wanted to warn you to be on the lookout, and at the same time to tell you that neither of the two men is on board now. You may draw your own conclusions, sir.”

Ned Rector’s face had flushed when Tad described the assault on himself.

“Is that all?” asked Darwood indifferently.

“Yes; I think so.”

“Thank you,” said the Gold Digger, getting up slowly and strolling forward.

Ned laughed; Tad flushed.

“That’s what you get for meddling with other folks’ business,” declared Rector.

“I reckon you are right at that,” answered Tad. Then he laughed heartily. Nor did he exchange another word with the Gold Diggers of Taku Pass during the rest of that journey on the “Corsair.”