Jess of the Rebel Trail Part 20

CHAPTER XIII

A TRICKY Pa.s.sENGER

The "Eb and Flo" had come through the falls at high tide, and was lying at one of the wharves above. Eben was in great spirits. He had taken the boat through the falls the day before, discharged the cargo, and had brought her safely back. He had made this call for Gabriel Grimsby, who had arranged with him early that morning to take him up river. As Eben sat upon deck, his hand at times slipped into the right pocket of his trousers and touched the crisp ten dollar bill Grimsby had paid him for his pa.s.sage. It was more money than he had ever had in his life, so he felt quite rich and important. Just why Grimsby had given him that amount he did not know. Neither did he care. It was good to have so much, and he was happier than he had been for days. He thought of what he would buy with the money, and his mind turned naturally to a new coat, for his best Sunday one was old and worn. He wanted a new pair of boots, nice s.h.i.+ny ones, like city people wore, and not the rough clumsy kind such as his father had always bought. He pictured to himself the look of surprise and admiration upon Jess Randall's face should she see him so well dressed. His Sunday vest, collar and trousers were new, so the coat and boots were all he needed.

Grimsby was late in coming, and when he did at length arrive, it was almost noon. He carried a small grip in his hand, which he placed upon the deck, and went down into the cabin where Eben was preparing dinner.

"h.e.l.lo," he accosted. "Thought I was never coming, I s'pose?"

Eben grinned as he turned from the frying-pan where several pieces of bacon were sizzling. He had always liked Grimsby, and the thought of the ten dollars made him more friendly than ever.

"Guess yer in time fer dinner, Gabe," he replied.

"Yer always on time fer that, eh?"

"Indeed I am. My! that bacon smells good. And what bread! Did your mother make it?"

"No, Flo cooked that. She certainly does know how to make bread. But, fall to, now, an' help yerself. This bacon's done."

A gentle breeze favoured the "Eb and Flo" as she left her wharf, ran up through the Narrows, and headed out into Grand Bay. It was a perfect summer afternoon, and Grimsby, seated on deck, with his back against the cabin, smoked a cigar to his heart's content. It was a Club Special he was smoking, a rare treat to him. But with so much money in his pocket, he had indulged himself that morning by buying a box of his favourite brand. He felt very prosperous, and contented with himself and the whole world.

"Did ye ever smoke?" he asked Eben, who was standing at the wheel.

"Naw. I tried it once, but it made me sick. Dad licked me fer it, too."

"My, ye miss a lot in life," and Grimsby gave a sigh of satisfaction as he blew a cloud of smoke into the air. "Smoking is a great soother of the nerves, it certainly is."

"Ma doesn't like terbaccer," Eben volunteered. "She says it smells up the house awful. Flo says she'll never marry a man who smokes."

"She won't, eh?" and Grimsby laughed outright. "I s'pose she'll make her husband buy her chocolates instead."

"Most likely. Flo's mighty fond of choc'lates. She'd eat 'em all the time if she could git 'em. She's allus beggin' me to bring her a box every time we come from the city."

"She's just like all girls; they like sweet things. That's the reason, I guess, they like me. I'm always sweet with the girls. It pays.

Hand me that grip, will yon? I want to show you something I've got for a pretty girl."

Eben reached over, and handed the grip to Grimsby. The latter slowly opened it, and brought forth a box, wrapped up in paper. He untied the string, and held forth a box of chocolates for Eben's inspection.

"Like one, eh?"

"Y'bet. Me mouth's waterin'."

"Then, it'll have to water. These are for a prettier mouth than yours, let me tell you that. My! you should see her, 'specially when she's eating candy."

"Your wife?" Eben asked.

Grimsby shook with laughter, as he carefully placed the paper back upon the box, and returned it to the grip.

"No, no, no, not for my wife this time, Eben. It's for someone else, a special friend of mine. She's up river now, and I'm going to see her.

She's in a cla.s.s all by herself, though just now, poor girl, she's in trouble."

"She is?" Eben was becoming interested.

"Yes, she ran away from home, you see, and her folks don't know where she is. Why, what's wrong, boy? You look scared."

"D'ye mean Miss Randall?" Eben asked. "Are them choc'lates fer her?"

"Ah, you're a good hand at a guess, Eben," and Grimsby smiled. "Yes, I'm taking them to her. She'd never forgive me if I forgot them. Why, I've known Jess Randall ever since she was a baby," he lied. "She calls me 'Uncle Gabe.'"

"She does!" Eben was more impressed than ever with Grimsby.

"Oh, yes, she's a great friend of mine. She must be waiting for me now, so you can pull up and run me ash.o.r.e when we get there. She phoned to me to come at once, as she wants to see me on special business."

"I'm goin' to stop, anyway," Eben replied. "Dad'll be waitin' fer me.

He went ash.o.r.e with ma."

It was only with difficulty that Grimsby repressed a chuckle of delight. He could hardly believe it possible that Eben had fallen so easily into his snare. But as he glanced at the boy he saw not the slightest sign of suspicion upon his face. Eben's hands were upon the wheel, and his eyes were fixed upon a steamer coming down river.

Grimsby was certain now that Miss Randall was at Mrs. Hampton's. So far he had met with remarkable success. He wondered how much further he dare go.

"Guess it'll he some wedding," he ventured. "I'll have to get a brand new suit."

"What weddin'?" Eben asked.

"Why, don't you know? Miss Randall's, of course. She's going to marry Lord Donaster, that swell dude of a chap."

"She's not!" The words snapped, from Eben's lips, and his hands gripped hard upon the wheel as he swung the boat somewhat to the left, while the steamer surged by.

"What makes you say that?" Grimsby questioned. This was the first glimpse he had caught of the boy's feeling, and he surmised its meaning.

"D'ye think she'd marry a thing like Donaster?" Eben contemptuously asked. "She's got more sense."

"So you know her, then?" The question caught Eben off guard, and his face suddenly flushed. Grimsby smiled. "She came up with you, on your last trip, didn't she?"

"How d'ye know that?" Eben's hands let go of the wheel in his amazement.

"Oh, I know everything. But I guess you're right, Eben. Miss Randall will never marry Donaster. He's after her good and hard, though, so it's up to you and me to help her."

"In what way?"

"She and John Hampton are in love with each other, I understand. Can't we do something to keep Donaster away? He's a deep-dyed villain, that's what he is, and we must not let him bother Miss Randall. He thinks that I'm going to help him out."

"How?" Eben hardly knew that he had asked the question. He was thinking deeply, and wondering why he should help Grimsby. Had not Miss Randall left him for Hampton? The thought rankled in his soul.

Why should another have her when she was so much to him? He was aroused by his companion.

"Say, lad, what's the matter with you? I've asked you two questions, and you seem to be stricken dumb. What are you thinking about? Not in love yourself, are you?"

Eben grinned sheepishly, and his face crimsoned a deeper hue than ever,