Stratemeyer Edward
A Young Inventor's Pluck: or, The Mystery of the Willington Legacy

CHAPTER XIII
OVER THE FALLS

Jack was never so amazed in his life as when he discovered that the pale, senseless form that he had dragged upon the tree beside him was no less a person than his friend, Mont Gray. But at that moment, he did not stop to question how the young man had gotten into a position similar to his own. His one thought was whether or not his friend was alive.

He placed the body as comfortably as possible on the fork of the tree, and then watched eagerly for some sign of life.

There was a cut upon Mont's brow, and presently a few drops of blood oozed from the wound, and trickled down his cheek.

Jack took this as a good sign, and he was not mistaken, for a few seconds later the young man gave a deep sigh, and slowly opened his eyes.

"Where am I?" he asked, faintly.

"Here with me, Mont," replied the young machinist, bending over him. "Don't you know me?"

"Jack!" was the low response. "Oh, how my head hurts! Where are we?"

"On the river."

"We are?" Mont attempted to rise, but Jack pushed him back. "Oh, I remember now!" he continued, shuddering.

"Remember what?" asked the young machinist, eagerly.

"The push Mosey gave me over the bank. My head struck a rock, and I don't know what happened after that. Where did you say we are?"

"In the middle of the river, just above the falls."

"How in the world did we get here? Oh, I see! You came out to rescue me!"

"No, I didn't. Mosey pitched me from the old mill last night, and I've been in the water ever since. I saw your body floating along, and without knowing who it was, caught hold and landed you here."

"You've saved my life," exclaimed Mont, fervently. "I'll never forget that, Jack!"

"I don't know whether I've saved your life or not," returned the young machinist, seriously. "It depends on whether we can reach shore or not; we are close to the falls, and liable to go over at any minute."

Mont pulled himself to a sitting position.

"Better take care!" cried Jack, "or you'll fall off. I am tied fast, and you are not. Here, take this end of the rope and bind yourself."

"Never mind. I'm all right now," replied the young man, as he viewed the situation. "It is a tight scrape, and no mistake," he added. "Wonder how this tree is wedged fast? Must be between the rocks."

"Yes, and it won't hold fast forever," returned Jack.

"We must reach shore, if possible, without delay."

"Easier said than done. Now if we had a rope-"

"Will this do?"

"No; it isn't long enough. Hello! something's giving way already!"

At that instant the trunk of the tree quivered, and moved a foot or so nearer the falls.

"Hold fast for your life!" Jack called; "perhaps it has broken loose!"

He had hardly uttered the words before the tree snapped its fastenings and swept toward the falls.

"Give me your hand, Mont," continued Jack, in a loud voice, seeing that his friend could not secure a good hold.

But before the young man could comply the tree turned over, and both were immersed.

In another instant, the willow, for such it was, had reached the brink. Here it hesitated for a moment, and then with a sharp sound it dove over the madly boiling mass into the maelstrom below!

The noise was terrific. Jack held on, closing his eyes, and forgetting everything.

He felt himself go down, down-and still further. The water rang in his ears, and many colors flickered in his mind's eye. The pressure from above was tremendous.

Ten seconds passed. He felt his senses leaving him. Mont's body bumped against him, and unconsciously he threw his own body partly around that of his friend.

Then all became a dim, dark uncertainty. The willow did not remain under the falls long. The rush of water soon forced it out into the stream below, and once there, it shot along, bearing upon its topmost branches two human bodies.

It drifted in mid-stream, gradually diminishing its speed, until an island stopped its further progress.

It struck upon a sandy shore, and the upper end swung gently around, catching fast in some overhanging bushes.

The bright sun shone down upon the scene as tranquilly as ever. Its warm rays apparently revived Jack, for, with a deep shudder-like one awakening from a horrible dream-the young machinist opened his eyes and endeavored to take in the situation.

He felt as if he had been pulled and beaten until not a spot was left in his body that did not ache. The rope was gone from his wrists, hands and face were cut, and his clothing was torn in a dozen places.

Yet he did not mind all this. He had a certain sense of security-a knowledge that he had passed through a great peril in safety-that more than outbalanced his present sufferings.

Suddenly he thought of Mont. He started up to discover his friend lying near, his face deadly white, and his head hanging over the branch like a lump of lead.

Jack saw that they were close to shore-where, he did not know nor care, and gathering all his remaining strength, he clasped Mont in his arms, and made a leap for solid ground.

He reached the shore, deposited his friend's body on the grass, and then, unable longer to stand, sank down beside the young man.

The moments dragged wearily along. Jack felt himself growing stronger, and by pure grit he arose and turned all his attention to Mont.

"Looks as if he was dead!" was the young machinist's awful thought. "I never saw a drowned man, but he is fearfully quiet. Yet, if there's a spark of life left in him, I'll fan it up if I kill myself doing it."

He knelt down, and taking off Mont's coat, unloosened his collar. Then he rolled him on his back, raising the lower part of the body as high as possible, which caused the water to run from Mont's mouth in a stream.

After this he moved his friend's arms backward and forward to induce respiration, and was rewarded presently by seeing the young man give a gulp and a gasp for breath.

"Thank heaven for that!" ejaculated Jack. "It's a good sign," and with strengthened hopes he continued his efforts.

It was fully half an hour before Mont came to himself and sat up. He, too, was bewildered at the situation.

"Where are we?" he asked, after a long silence, in which both sought to regain their strength.

"I think we are on Blackbird Island," replied Jack, slowly. "That is just below the falls, you know."

"Did we drift here?"

"I suppose so. I don't know any more than you. I came to my senses on the tree only a little while ago."

Mont rolled over on his back and drew a long breath.

"I'm tremendously tired," he explained. "Do you know anything of this place?"

"I have often heard of it, but was never here before. I wonder if anyone lives here?"

"Don't know. It looks rather wild."

"Tell you what we'll do," said Jack. "We'll rest here in the sun for a while and let our clothes dry, and then explore the place and see what means we can find of reaching the mainland."

Mont agreed, and making themselves as comfortable as possible, the two boys rested for over an hour, each in the meantime relating to the other his experience.

"Mosey is a bad egg," was Mont's conclusion; "I suppose he thinks that he has sent us both to our death," and then he told Jack about the stolen model.

The young machinist was much worried.

"It must have been Corrigan," he said, as he arose, and put on his coat. "I wonder what he expects to do with such booty?"

"Sell it if he can," replied the young man. "Hello!" he exclaimed, as he happened to glance up. "Here comes some one. A girl, I declare! What is she doing in this wilderness?"

CHAPTER XIV
MAX POOLER'S MEG

The girl who approached was a tall, gaunt creature, certainly not over ten years of age, yet with a knowing look of worldly experience in her pinched face and furtive black eyes.

She was sparingly dressed in an ill-fitting calico gown of ancient pattern. Her feet were bare and on her head rested a dilapidated sunbonnet. She carried a large pail on one arm, and made her way to a gushing spring but a few feet away from where Jack and Mont were reclining.

She started back in surprise upon seeing the pair, and as they sprang to their feet she made a hasty move as if to retreat.

"Don't run away, please," called out Jack. "We won't hurt you."

Thus reassured, the overgrown child-for she was naught else-stopped short, shyly swinging the empty pail from one hand to the other.

"Who're you?" she asked abruptly, as the young machinist came up.

"I'm Jack Willington, and this is my friend, Mont Gray."

"How'd you come here?" was the second question, asked as abruptly as the first.

"We had the misfortune to be carried over the falls," replied Jack.

The girl tossed her pretty, but by no means clean nose, in the air.

"Them falls?" she asked, pointing her long, thin finger to the mighty volume of water up the river.

"Yes."

She gave a contemptuous snicker.

"You can't stuff no such stories down me!" she ejaculated. "Them falls! You couldn't live a minnit in 'em! Think I believe such lies?"

"It's the truth, whether you believe it or not," put in Mont, "We were on that tree" – he pointed it out-"and that saved us. See, our clothes are still wet."

The girl was silent, more convinced by their genteel appearance, than by what was said, that she was being told the truth.

"What is your name?" asked Jack, curiously. He had never met such a unique character before.

"Meg," was the laconic reply.

"Meg? Meg what?"

"No, not Meg what; only Meg."

"But what is your other name?"

"Hain't got none."

"Oh, but you must have," put in Mont. He, too, was becoming interested.

"Never did-leastwise, never knowed it, anyway," and Meg grew sober for a moment.

"Do you live here?" asked Jack.

"Yep."

"Alone?"

"Nope. I live with Mr. Pooler."

"Who is he?"

The girl eyed the young machinist in surprise.

"Why, I thought everybody knew him," she said. "He's the man who owns this island."

"What, the whole of it?" exclaimed Mont, in astonishment.

"Yep."

"And you live here with him?" continued Jack.

"Yep. Have always."

"Any one else here besides you and him?"

"Not now. His wife used to, but she died last winter."

"I suppose you keep house for him?"

"Yep."

A faint smile accompanied the monosyllable this time.

"It's rather hard work for a girl like you," Jack remarked.

Meg tossed back her head.

"Hard! 'Tain't nothing; cookin' and cleanin' ain't. It's garden work that's tough. Look at them hands." She dropped the pail and held them up. "Been blistered lots of times hoein' and diggin'."

"It's too bad," cried the young machinist, indignantly. "It ain't fair to make you work like a slave."

"What would you do if you was me?" asked the girl, with a hungry, searching look in her eyes.

For a moment Jack was nonplused.

"I don't know," he replied, slowly; "I might, though, if I thought over it. Are you a relative of his?"

"Not's I know."

"How long have you been here?"

"Ever since I can remember. I didn't mind it so much when Mrs. Pooler was alive, but since she died I hate it;" and Meg grated her teeth tightly together.

"Where is the house?" asked Mont.

"Over yonder, through the trees."

"Do you think you can get us something to eat?" continued the young man. "We have been out since yesterday, and I'm as hungry as a stray dog."

The girl hesitated.

"We will pay you for it," Mont went on, feeling for his purse, which, luckily, still remained in his pocket.

"Guess I can," said Meg, finally. "Pooler ain't home; he went to the mainland this morning. Did you really go over them falls?" she continued, jerking her thumb in the direction.

"Yes, indeed we did. It was a terrible experience," replied the young man with a shudder.

"Must be. Never heard of 'em comin' out alive-'em as goes over, I mean."

"We are not anxious to try it again," Jack put in.

The "house" consisted of a dilapidated cottage of two rooms and an attic, almost wholly covered by grape vines. Meg led the way around to the back, and motioned them to a bench under a big tree.

"Better stay out here. It's cooler and nicer," she said. "I'll fetch a table;" and in a few seconds she had done so, and placed it before them.

"Don't take too much trouble," said Mont; "we are hungry enough to tackle almost anything."

"'Tain't no trouble-leastwise, not if there's money in it. Pooler worships money."

"Is he rich?" asked Jack.

"Don't ask me!" replied Meg. "I've often heard the men say he was rich, but I never see any money."

"Doesn't he give you any?"

"Not a cent. Say, how will coffee and bread, with some pickerel do? I can get them ready in a few minutes."

"First-rate," replied Mont.

"Then just wait;" and Meg disappeared within the cottage.

"Quite a smart lass," remarked Jack when they were alone.

"Awfully wild, though," returned Mont; "I would like to see this Pooler. Something runs in my mind concerning him-I can't exactly tell what."

"I shouldn't wonder but what he misuses that girl awfully," added Jack, with a shake of his head.

It was not long before Meg returned with quite a substantial meal for both. She set the things before them, and then stood by, ready for further orders.

"What does Mr. Pooler do for a living?" asked Mont, while eating.

"Nothin' 'cept run his farm here," replied the girl. "He's gettin' kinder old."

"He is a farmer, then?"

"Yep. That is, now. He used to work in the tool works at Corney."

"He did?" exclaimed Mont, with interest. "I work there. How long ago was this?"

"I don't know exactly. I heard Mosey and him talkin' 'bout it."

Jack dropped his knife and fork in astonishment.

"Whom did you say?" he ejaculated.

"Mosey," repeated Meg. "Do you know him?"

"I think I do. Is his first name Andy?"

"Yep."

"Well, I'm stumped!" declared the young machinist. "Yes, I know him," he continued bitterly. "And he'll know me, too, when we meet again."

Jack meant all his manner implied. His blood boiled at the thought of the Irishman, and the cowardly treatment he had received at the mill.

"Does Mosey come here often?" he asked.

"Not lately. He used to, him and two or three more. But I oughten to tell you all this! Pooler'll beat me if he finds it out."

"Not if I'm around!" replied Jack, stoutly. "But we will not mention what you have told us."

"Wish you wouldn't. But I don't care anyhow; I'm gettin' tired, and sha'n't stay much longer."

"What will you do?" asked Mont.

"Run away," was the quick reply.

"Where to?"

"I don't know, and I don't care, either. Any place is as good as this, I reckon."

"Perhaps you can find some sort of a home in Corney," suggested the young machinist. "You seem to be quite handy. I will help you if I can."

"And so will I," put in Mont.

"I could do better if I had half a chance," asserted Meg, tapping the ground with her foot.

"May I ask what other men visit Mr. Pooler?" inquired the young man, after a pause.

"A man by the name of Corrigan sometimes comes with Mosey."

"Corrigan!"

Jack and Mont uttered the name together. Here was certainly news. Yet they never dreamt of what was coming.

"Any one else?" asked Jack.

"A man used to come sometimes at night. Pooler thought I never saw him, but I did-and heard who he was, too."

"What was his name?" asked Mont, with just the slightest tremor in his voice.

"Mr. Gray-Felix, Pooler called him."

Mont looked at Jack in deep perplexity.

"There is surely a mystery here," he said.

"You are right," returned the young machinist; "and who knows but what it may concern both of us?"

At this juncture Meg uttered an exclamation.

"There's a boat comin' over!" she cried. "I guess it's Pooler gettin' back!"

CHAPTER XV
THE MISER OF THE ISLAND

Meg's conjecture was correct. It was Mr. Max Pooler who was the sole occupant of the rowboat that was fast approaching the island.

He pulled a quick stroke, and two minutes brought him to the shore, where, beaching his craft, he jumped out, and walked rapidly toward the cottage.

He was a thin, sallow-complexioned man, with a low forehead and sunken gray eyes. The expression upon his face, especially around his mouth, was a pinched and hard one.

He viewed Jack and Mont in surprise, not unmixed with disapproval, and turned to the girl for an explanation.

"How is this, Meg?" he asked, in a shrill, disagreeable tone of voice. "Whom have you here?"

"Two young men that drifted over the falls," replied the girl, who was somewhat startled by his sudden coming. "I found 'em down by the spring, all tuckered out."

"Over the falls!" Max Pooler's face showed his incredulity. "Never heard of it afore! When did it happen?"

"We can't tell exactly," replied Jack. "We became unconscious, and came to about an hour or so ago."

"Humph!" The master of the island glanced at the table, where a good portion of the food still remained. "Pretty good dinner you're givin' 'em, Meg," he continued.

The girl was silent. She evidently did not like Max Pooler's remark, and stood biting her finger nails in vexation.

"We are willing to pay for what we've had," broke in Mont. "We were so hungry that we couldn't wait till we got back to town, and so persuaded this-this young lady to provide something for us."

Max Pooler looked relieved.

"Ah, that's all right then," he said, rubbing his hands together in satisfaction. "Pay for what you get and owe no man, has always been my motto, and I find it a very excellent one, too. Tell me something of your adventures. And, by the way, is there anything else you wish?"

"No, I'm done," replied the young machinist.

He was thoroughly disgusted with the man's mean manner, though he did not object to paying for what they had had.

But Mont entered readily into conversation. He had eyed Max Pooler keenly from his arrival, and noticed every action of the man. He briefly related the particulars of what had happened on the river. For obvious reasons he did not mention how either Jack or he had fallen into such a position, nor did he mention any names.

"Awful! terrible! truly remarkable!" were Max Pooler's comments. "But did you see 'em?" he continued, in a tragic whisper.

"See whom?" asked Jack, who was somewhat taken back by this sudden change in the man's manner.

"Why, the ghost in the falls," replied Max Pooler, earnestly, "It is the spirit of a man who went over one night."

Jack laughed.

"We did not see it," he replied. "Besides, I don't believe in them."

"Oh, but this is a ghost sure, I've seen him myself many a time in the moonlight."

"Maybe you saw the man go over, and imagined the rest," suggested Mont. "Did you know him?"

"Oh, no!" replied Max Pooler, starting. "No, indeed, I only heard it was so. But the ghost is there. Sometimes it comes on the island!"

"The man must be a little off on this subject," thought Jack, as he watched Max Pooler's manner.

"I guess there is too much water here to allow of any spirits," said Mont, by way of a joke.

"Never mind, I know what I know," replied Max Pooler, with a shake of his head. "You were mighty lucky to get through safely."

"I'll admit that," returned Jack, rising from the table.

Mont also arose, and looked first at the man and then at the girl.

"If you tell me what we owe you, I'll pay it," he said.

Meg was silent. Had she had her own way she would have charged nothing.

"Everything considered, I guess it's worth a quarter apiece," said Max Pooler. "Provisions are frightfully high."

"I'm well satisfied," replied Mont; and taking out his purse, he withdrew a half dollar, and handed it over. "I am very much obliged to you," he added to Meg.

Max Pooler's eyes sparkled as they rested upon the shining silver. He grasped the coin eagerly, and after examining it, stowed it carefully away in his bosom.

There was a pause. Now that he had their money, the owner of the island was evidently anxious to have them take their departure. Both Jack and Mont wished to see more of this old man, but neither could frame a plausible excuse for remaining.

"I suppose your friends will be anxious 'bout you," remarked Max Pooler, by way of helping them off.

Jack's thoughts instantly reverted to Deb, and he said no doubt they would.

"But we have no boat," he added, suddenly. "Can you lend us one?"

"Only got the one I use," replied the old man, shortly.

"I can take 'em over," put in Meg, eagerly. "'T won't take long."

"We will pay you for the use of the boat," added Jack.

The mention of pay immediately altered the matter in Max Pooler's eyes.

"I'll do it for another quarter," he said. "Times are hard and one must make his living."

Jack made no reply. The closeness of the man disgusted him, and he paid the amount without a word.

Meg led the way toward the beach. Their backs were scarcely turned before Max Pooler disappeared in the cottage.

"The mean miser," burst out the girl, when they were beyond hearing, "He's itchin' to put that seventy-five cents along with the rest of his money! Hope you don't blame me for what he's done. Wouldn't have cost you a cent if I'd have had my way!"

"We were very thankful to get something," said Mont, "and were perfectly willing to pay for it, too."

Jack was silent. He half wished that Meg, interesting as she was, was not present. He wished to talk with his friend over the odd news that the last half hour had brought them. He was half inclined to question the young girl further, but did not wish to excite her suspicion, and was diplomatic enough not to get at it excepting in the direct way.

Of one thing he was certain; there was a good deal below the surface that did not yet show, and he determined that he would not drop the matter until he had learned what it was.

"Did you ever hear of a wrecked yacht around here?" suddenly asked Mont of Meg.

"Nope-that is," she hesitated. "What makes you ask that?"

"Oh, I only wanted to know," replied the young man, apparently unconcerned.

"Pooler said I was never to speak of it," returned Meg. "He thinks I don't know where it is, but I do."

"Show it to us, will you?" asked Mont, eagerly.

Meg shrank back.

"It's haunted!" she exclaimed. "Besides, Pooler would kill me if he found it out."

"We'll never tell him, will we, Jack?"

"Certainly not," replied the young machinist, to whom this new move was only another mystery.

"Besides, we intend to be your friends, you know," continued Mont.

"Well, then, come on," replied Meg, finally. "I don't care if he likes it or not. 'Taint a very nice place though."

"Never mind. We can't find any worse or more dangerous places than we have already gone through."

Meg picked her way along one bank of the island for nearly a quarter of a mile. Jack and Mont followed closely.

The ground was covered with a rank growth of reeds and rushes, and in many places was damp and slippery.

At last they reached a deep cave that ran directly between a cluster of twisted and bending willows. The spot was at the upper end of the island, and in full view of the falls.

Here, half hidden by the tall, undergrowth, rested the hull of a dismantled yacht, bearing upon her weather-beaten stern the half-obliterated name:

"KITTY."