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Copper Princess, The

<h2>CHAPTER XIV</h2> <h3>A VAIN EFFORT TO RECOVER STOLEN PROPERTY</h3> Leaping ashore the moment his skiff grated on the beach, Peveril stepped directly up to the old man and said: "I do not know who you are, sir, nor what claim you make to ownership in those logs. I do know, however, that they bear the private mark of the White Pine Mining Company, and formed part of a raft recently wrecked on this coast. Having been sent here expressly to secure this property, I am determined to use every endeavor to carry out my instructions. Such being the case, I trust that you will not interfere with the performance of my duty." "I shall, though," answered the old man, gruffly. "I have need of this timber, and consider that I have a just claim to it, seeing that it was cast up by the sea on my land. I have also expended a great amount of labor in bringing it to this place; so that if I had no other claim I have one for salvage." "Which will doubtless be allowed when presented in proper form," replied Peveril. "In the meantime I am ordered to take possession of all logs that I may find bearing the W. P. mark." "Supposing I forbid you to do so?" "I am also authorized to use force, if necessary, to carry out my instructions." "That sounds very much like a threat, my young friend; but I decline to be frightened by it, and still forbid you to touch those logs." Joe Pintaud had followed his young leader ashore, and stood close beside him during the foregoing interview, while the Bohemians still remained in the skiff. Now, without deigning any further reply to the old man, Peveril, in a low tone, ordered the Canadian to provide himself and the others with poles, and, if possible, shove the raft off from shore, adding that he would join in their efforts the moment he had cast loose its moorings. As Joe started to obey these instructions, Peveril ran to the farther of two ropes holding the raft and unfastened it. While he did this the old man stood without remonstrance, but with a cynical smile on his thin lips. Finding himself uninterrupted, Peveril fancied that no resistance was to be offered, after all, and, with the carelessness of confidence, stooped to cast off the remaining line. The next instant a nervous shove from behind sent him headforemost into the lake. Just then there came a rush of feet, and as Peveril, half-choked by his sudden bath in the icy water, rose to the surface and attempted to regain the bank he was seized by half a dozen pair of brawny hands belonging to as many wild-looking men who had been summoned from beyond the ridge. In another minute the young wrecker was lying in the bottom of his own skiff, and it was being towed out to sea by a second boat manned by two lusty foreigners. In its stern-sheets sat the old man holding a cocked revolver, from which he threatened to put a bullet through Peveril's head if he lifted it above the gunwale. Under the circumstances the latter, though raging at his sudden discomfiture, deemed it best to lie still and await, with what patience he might, the result of his misadventure. So he was towed for a long distance, and when his skiff finally seemed to have lost motion and be drifting, he ventured to lift his head. Before he could see over the side there came the sharp report of a pistol, a bullet whistled close above him, and he was ordered to remain quiet until he received permission to sit up. Peveril obeyed, and for nearly half an hour longer lay motionless. Then his craft struck bottom, and he sprang up in alarm. He was alone, and his skiff was bumping against a black ledge that he recognized as the one lying at the foot of the mysterious cliff. Not a boat was to be seen, but on the rocks close at hand lay the oars that had been taken from his skiff when he was thrown into it. They were not lying together, but at some distance apart, as though flung there, but whether from a boat or from some other direction he could not tell. At any rate, he was thankful to have them, and at once began to plan how he should use them in connection with his regained liberty. At first his indignation at his recent treatment suggested that he row back and attempt, at least, to recover his men; but a moment's reflection showed the folly of such a scheme. Not only would he again be confronted by an overpowering number of opponents, but it was probable that his men were even then on their way overland to Laughing Fish, for he did not believe the old man would dare hold them prisoners. At any rate, it would be best to rejoin them before planning to gain possession of the logs in the basin, upon which he was still determined. Although the young man did not know it, he was keenly watched during these moments of indecision by a pair of bright eyes that peered down from the cliff above him. When he shiveringly re-entered his skiff the eyes were hastily withdrawn lest he should look up. A little later a young girl of slight figure, clad in a dark gown, stepped out from the cliff, as from behind a curtain, and, half concealed by the stunted cedar, watched him curiously until he was lost to view. "He is ever so different from an ordinary miner," she soliloquized, "and looks as though he might be interesting. I wonder if I shall ever see him again? I am glad I thought of getting these oars and throwing them down, even if he has used them to go away with. What will papa think when he finds them gone? Anyhow, the monotony of this stupid place has been broken at last, and now, perhaps, something else will happen. I believe something must be going to happen very soon, anyhow, from the way papa talks. Dear papa! how queerly he acts, and how I wish I could see him happy just once! Now I must go and tell him that the schooner is coming." With this the girl apparently performed a miracle, for she seemed to push aside a portion of the red-stained cliff and disappear behind it without leaving a trace of an opening. As Peveril rowed steadily down the coast he saw in the distance a schooner that he believed to be the one belonging to Joe Pintaud's friends beating up from the southward. For a moment he thought of trying to board her, but, quickly dismissing the idea, doggedly pursued his way. Arrived at the cove, he was disappointed to find his camp vacant and without a sign that his coming companions had returned to it. Building a fire, he made a pot of coffee, and prepared to await their coming with what patience he could command. Some of the fisher-children came and watched him shyly, but when he attempted to draw them into conversation they only laughed and ran away. Feeling very lonely, and undecided as to what he should do, he had just begun to eat a lunch of cold food prepared by Joe that morning when a plan occurred to him. It was to set forth on foot to meet his men, failing to do which he could at least spy out the enemy's strength. "I can discover, too, what lies behind that ridge, and where they are carrying those logs," he said, half aloud. <hr style="width: 45%;" /> <div class="figcenter"> <ANTIMG src="images/illus006.jpg" width-obs="656" height-obs="477" alt="THE MEN HASTILY THREW PEVERIL HEAD-FIRST INTO THE BUSHES" title="" /> THE MEN HASTILY THREW PEVERIL HEAD-FIRST INTO THE BUSHES</div> <hr style="width: 45%;" /> So impatient was he to put this plan into execution that he would not wait to finish his lunch, but, swallowing a mug of coffee and stuffing a few hard biscuit into the ample pockets of his now nearly dry coat, he set forth. Coming across a well-trodden though narrow trail, leading in what he believed to be the right direction, he turned into it, and followed it briskly for several miles. It was by this time late afternoon, and long shadows were creeping over the rugged upland country that he traversed. No house was to be seen, nor evidence of human occupation. All the large timber having been long since cut off, the region was now covered with a ragged second growth and thick underbrush. Extensive tracts had been burned over, and thousands of small trees, standing in the melancholy attitudes of death, added to the desolation of the scene. Every now and then he passed yawning prospect-holes, offering mute evidence of disappointed hopes. At length he caught a whiff of smoke, a dull clang of machinery came to his ears; and, with curiosity keenly aroused, he pursued his way more cautiously. A few minutes later he reached a point where he caught glimpses of buildings, evidently belonging to a mine. A tall shaft-house was surrounded by various shops and a cluster of dwellings, most of them very humble in appearance, though one was large and pretentious. Although smoke was curling lazily from a lofty stack, that he imagined belonged to an engine-house, and though there was a certain amount of noise, as of machinery in motion, there were no other signs of activity about the place. In fact, it was pervaded by an aspect of desolation and desertion. There were no hurrying men nor teams. Most of the buildings appeared to be permanently closed; doors were boarded up, windows were broken, and the smaller dwellings were almost hidden by the rank growth of weeds and bushes that closely surrounded them. As Peveril stared in perplexity at this melancholy picture his attention was attracted by a sound of voices near at hand. He gazed eagerly, and even took a few steps forward, hoping to meet his own party, but was grievously disappointed to see instead a group of three burly strangers clad in mining costume. As they drew near he recognized them to be Bohemians, and was particularly struck by the hideous expression of him who seemed to act as leader of the party. Although the new-comers started at sight of the young man, and regarded him with scowling faces as they drew near, they did not speak nor offer to molest him, but passed by in silence. Disappointed that they were not his own men, but relieved to be so easily rid of them, Peveril again turned his attention to the semi-deserted mining village that had so aroused his curiosity. So deeply interested did he at once become in watching a team of oxen that had just appeared, hauling a log over a rise of ground, that he did not hear the approach of stealthy footsteps nor note the crouching forms creeping up behind him. Closer and closer they came, until they were within reach of their unconscious victim. Then they sprang upon him all at once, and he was hurled to the ground. In another moment his arms were bound, and he recognized in one distorted face, leering close above his own, that of the man who had led the attack on him in the mine, and whom he had sent reeling away with a broken jaw. Now the cruel face was rendered doubly hideous by a grin of triumph, and Peveril's heart sank within him as he gazed into the pitiless eyes that lighted its brutish features. <hr style="width: 65%;" /> <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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