The Courage of Captain Plum | Page 4

them.
"You will pardon me if I don't light up," apologized the old man as he
led the way in. "A candle will be sufficient. You know there must be
privacy in these matters--always. Eh? Isn't that so?"
Captain Plum followed without reply. He guessed that the cabin was
made up of one large room, and that at the present time, at least, it
possessed no other occupant than the singular creature who had guided
him to it.
"It is just as well, on this particular night, that no light is seen at the
window," continued the old man as he rummaged about a table for a
match and a candle. "I have a little corner back here that a candle will
brighten up nicely and no one in the world will know it. Ho, ho,
ho!--how nice it is to have a quiet little corner sometimes! Eh, Captain
Plum?"

At the sound of his name Captain Plum started as though an unexpected
hand had suddenly been laid upon him. So he was expected, after all,
and his name was known! For a moment his surprise robbed him of the
power of speech. The little old man had lighted his candle, and,
grinning back over his shoulder, passed through a narrow cut in the
wall that could hardly be called a door and planted his light on a table
that stood in the center of a small room, or closet, not more than five
feet square. Then he coolly pulled Captain Plum's old letter from his
pocket and smoothed it out in the dim light.
"Be seated, Captain Plum; right over there--opposite me. So!"
He continued for a moment to smooth out the creases in the letter and
then proceeded to read it with as much assurance as though its owner
were a thousand miles away instead of within arm's reach of him.
Captain Plum was dumfounded. He felt the hot blood rushing to his
face and his first impulse was to recover the crumpled paper and
demand something more than an explanation. In the next instant it
occurred to him that this action would probably spoil whatever
possibilities his night's adventure might have for him. So he held his
peace. The old man was so intent in his perusal of the letter that the end
of his hooked nose almost scraped the table. He went over the dim,
partly obliterated words line by line, chuckling now and then, and
apparently utterly oblivious of the other's presence. When he had come
to the end he looked up, his eyes glittering with unbounded satisfaction,
carefully folded the letter, and handed it to Captain Plum.
"That's the best introduction in the world, Captain Plum--the very best!
Ho, ho!--it couldn't be better. I'm glad I found it." He chuckled
gleefully, and rested his ogreish head in the palms of his skeleton-like
hands, his elbows on the table. "So you're going back home--soon?"
"I haven't made up my mind yet, Dad," responded Captain Plum,
pulling out his pipe and tobacco. "You've read the letter pretty carefully,
I guess. What would you do?"
"Vermont?" questioned the old man shortly.

"That's it."
"Well, I'd go, and very soon, Captain Plum, very soon, indeed. Yes, I'd
hurry!" The old man jumped up with the quickness of a cat. So sudden
was his movement that it startled Captain Plum, and he dropped his
tobacco pouch. By the time he had recovered this article his strange
companion was back in his seat again holding a leather bag in his hand.
Quickly he untied the knot at its top and poured a torrent of glittering
gold pieces out upon the table.
"Business--business and gold," he gurgled happily, rubbing his thin
hands and twisting his fingers until they cracked. "A pretty sight, eh,
Captain Plum? Now, to our account! A hundred carbines, eh? And a
thousand of powder and a ton of balls. Or is it in lead? It doesn't make
any difference--not a bit. It's three thousand, that's the account, eh?" He
fell to counting rapidly.
For a full minute Captain Plum remained in stupefied bewilderment,
silenced by the sudden and unexpected turn his adventure had taken.
Fascinated, he watched the skeleton fingers as they clinked the gold
pieces. What was the mysterious plot into which he had allowed
himself to be drawn? Why were a hundred guns and a ton and a half of
powder and balls wanted by the Mormons of Beaver Island?
Instinctively he reached out and closed his hand over the counting
fingers of the old man. Their eyes met. And there was a shrewd,
half-understanding gleam in the black orbs that fixed Captain Plum in
an unflinching challenge. For a little space there was silence. It was
Captain Plum who broke it.
"Dad, I'm going to tell