The Boy Pilot of the Lakes: or, Nat Morton's Perils

"I don't mind being woke up for a case like that," he explained. "I thought it was some measly tramp case. For the last three nights I've been woke up by people whose henroosts have been robbed. I'm getting tired of it, and when the sergeant called me a while ago, I thought it was another one. You see, we've only got two policemen here, and I don't mind telling you that I do most of the arrestin' that's done. The other one – Tom Duncan – he's too lazy to arrest many. I do two to his one. I'm on night duty and he takes the day trick."

Nat could not help thinking that the night man had the easier time of it, even if he did make the most arrests.

"Now here's the warrant, George," said the sergeant. "Bring that fellow in, and we'll lock him up."

"Oh, I'll bring him in all right. He'll not get away from me. Let's see, I've got my revolver and my club. Guess I'm all right."

"You go right along with him," the sergeant directed Nat. "Point out the man you want and he'll bring him in."

"Yes, I'll get him," declared George. He started from the police station, followed by Nat. When he reached the door, the officer suddenly turned back. "Come near forgetting my badge," he said, in explanation. "It wouldn't do to arrest a man without my badge. He might think it was only a bluff. Give me my badge, sergeant."

"First you know, you'll forget your head," murmured the sergeant, as he passed over a big tin star.

"I take it off when I lay down for a nap of an evening," the policeman said to Nat. "Some of the points might stick me, and I'd get blood poisoning. You can't be too careful in this business. I knowed a policeman once – "

"Say, if you're going to arrest that man you'd better get a move on," advised the sergeant. "That boat's due to leave at daylight, I heard, and it ain't far from it now."

"All right, I'm going now. I'll be back in a little while with the prisoner. Get a cell ready for him."

"Oh, the cell will be ready when you are."

"Fifteen hundred dollars," murmured the policeman, as he and Nat went out into the night. "This will be a fine arrest. Tom Duncan will wish he made this one."

"We'd better hurry," suggested Nat. "He may escape."

"Don't worry about that. No prisoner ever got away from me," boasted the officer.

It was not far to the dock where the Spray was tied up. Even in the darkness Nat knew the boat. He wondered if the mate was aboard. Once he reached the ship, the officer's manner changed. He proceeded cautiously, and seemed to know what he was about.

"Do you know which his cabin is?" he asked of Nat, in a whisper.

"No, but I know where the mate usually sleeps aboard these boats."

"You go ahead then."

The young pilot led the way. Though he had never been aboard the Spray he thought he could find where Bumstead slept. Fortunately, they did not meet the anchor watch, who was probably asleep.

"This ought to be his cabin," said Nat, indicating one in the same relative position as that occupied by the mate aboard the Jessie Drew.

"Then I'll go in and get him," said the officer.

It was beginning to get light, a streak of dawn showing in the east. The policeman pushed open the cabin door, which was not locked.

"Is Joseph Bumstead here?" he asked in loud tones.

"That's me. What's wanted?" was the answer, and Nat recognized the mate's voice.

"Come out here," said the officer.

He backed out of the cabin, and in the growing light Nat saw that he had his revolver drawn. Wondering what could be wanted of him, Bumstead jumped out of his bunk, partly dressed.

"You're my prisoner!" suddenly exclaimed the policeman, throwing back his coat to display the big star. At the same time he grabbed the mate with one hand, and in the other leveled his weapon at him.

"What's the trouble? Is this a joke?" demanded the mate.

"You'll find it quite different from a joke," replied the officer. "I have a warrant for your arrest, sworn out by Nat Morton, charging you with the embezzlement of fifteen hundred dollars. You'll have to come with me."

At that moment the mate caught sight of Nat, who stood to one side.

"So! This is your work, eh?" he cried. "Well, I'll not go with you! You haven't got me yet!"

With a sudden motion he broke away from the officer.

"Hold on or I'll shoot!" threatened the policeman.

"Shoot then!" cried the mate.

He ran to the rail. An instant later he had mounted it, poised on the top a moment, and with a shout of defiance he leaped over the side. A splash in the water told that he had landed in the lake.

"Stop! Hold on!" yelled the officer, as he rushed to the side. "Come back or I'll shoot!"

He peered down into the water. There was no sign of the mate. By this time several members of the crew were aroused and were on the deck.

"What's the matter?" cried a voice that Nat recognized as Sam Shaw's.

"Prisoner escaped!" exclaimed the policeman. "Can you see him?" he asked of Nat, who stood beside him, in the early dawn.

The boy shook his head in disappointment.

"He's got away, I guess," he said.

"Get me a boat!" cried the officer. "I'll find him if it takes all day. Come on!"

CHAPTER XXIV

IN A COLLISION

With the increase of daylight, objects on and about the freighter became clearer. But looking over the side Nat and the policeman could see nothing of the mate. Members of the crew who had hastily leaped from their bunks began asking what the matter was. Soon the captain came from his cabin.

"They've killed my uncle!" exclaimed Sam Shaw. "That's what they did! I heard them throw him overboard. That mean Nat Morton did it! I'll have him arrested for murder!"

"Oh, dry up!" exclaimed Nat, quite put out with the unexpected turn of events.

"I'll lick you; that's what I'll do!" cried Sam, advancing on Nat with outstretched fists.

"Keep away from me!" retorted Nat. "I whipped you once, and I can do it again!"

"He didn't push your uncle overboard," said one of the crew. "He jumped."