CHAPTER 15
The two boys came out toward the mouth of Rock Creek and as the woodsthinned, they saw ahead of them a sandy sloping bank on which a smallboat was drawn up. Around the coals of a fire nearby, three men werecrouching. Remembering Mr. Wicker's warning to be cautious, Chris putout a hand to touch Amos and the two stood still.
"Let's climb up a little above them," Chris suggested. "We're beyondthe bridge--they might be--well, we'd better be careful. I want to seewhat they're doing before they see us."
Amos agreeing, the two boys, with extra care for rattling twigs, movedstealthily up the banks of the Potomac that rose with increasingsteepness. The men, who were huddled near their fire now, camedirectly into their view below, and Chris and Amos could see that theywere playing cards. One seemed to be losing to the other two. He hadpiled a heap of his small possessions in front of him on the sand, inlieu of money.
They were certainly a villainous-looking trio. The boys could hearsome of their exclamations, and it was with a mingled feeling ofcuriosity and uneasiness that Chris recognized the losing gambler tobe Simon Gosler, the humpbacked cripple.
"Come now, Gosler!" they heard one of the men cry out in annoyance,"Pay up--you've lost!"
"I've no money to pay you," complained the sly voice of the cripple."I'm a poor man--well you know it. A cripple--just a poor oldcripple!"
"Ah--none o' that!" cut in the second winner. "We know how well you doat your begging--more in a day than we get in a month's pay. Pay upnow, or it won't go well with you," he rasped out, laying his hand ona dagger stuck into his belt.
"What about your glass, your spyglass, Gosler?" urged the first man."Put that up and it will cover your losses well enough!" he sneered,but Simon Gosler hugged his coat to him and looked from side to sidesearching for a way of escape.
"No, no, good fellows," he moaned, "not my glass. I won that from theCaptain himself three years ago, and that I never shall part fromwillingly."
"You'd part from it for silver quick enough!" snarled the firstgambler, "and of that you must have plenty, for 'tis rare you everlose. Come now, we'll give you a few minutes more to make up yourmind, but make it up you must. Either the glass or silver, you maychoose."
The two gamblers rose menacingly and moved away to put their boat intothe stream. Simon Gosler was left mumbling and sniveling and fingeringhis coat pocket, in which he kept his glass. Chris, watching him, hada sudden inspiration and whispered to Amos. "Hide here behind thosebushes and don't follow me. Don't move or show yourself. I'm going tohave that glass."
So saying he moved carefully back until he was out of sight of Amos,and then, for the first time on his own, he tried a change of shape.Choosing a broad flat stone at the edge of the shrubbery and safelyremoved from the sight of the two winners, he changed himself into asilver coin and allowed himself to drop with a sweet metallic ring onthe stone, waiting winking in the sun for Simon Gosler. The oldcripple saw the coin before it had bounced twice on the stone, andwith a quick sly look over his shoulder at the backs of his companionsas they pushed at the boat, hoisted himself up on his crutch and beganhobbling over toward his find.
But instead of a coin, he found only a resolute boy awaiting him,tossing and catching a silver piece. It was one of those Mr. Wickerhad given Chris but an hour before. He looked Simon Gosler in the eye.
"I've heard what went on, Simon Gosler," said Chris, his eyes on alevel with the rheumy watering eyes of the cripple, "and if you willsell your spyglass to me, I'll buy it off you with this silver piece.Otherwise you shall not have it."
Simon Gosler's eyes dripped tears of greed at the sight of the coin,and then another expression washed over them. Fast as he was and fastas was his movement, Chris was faster. As the old beggar bracedhimself and brought the head of his crutch down where Chris's headshould have been, someone from behind dealt him a staggering blow witha sizable club, and yet when he turned around no one was there. Whenhe faced about again, rubbing his head and whimpering with rage andfrustration, he found himself once more facing the boy who wastossing and catching, tossing and catching, the round silver coin.
Chris stood with his legs apart, his head back, his eyes full ofscorn. His hand did not cease to toss and catch the silver piece."Well, you old villain," he challenged, "will you take the coin infair exchange, or shall I hit you again with that club you just felt?"he asked. "It doesn't feel the same when you get it back as when yougive it out, does it, you old faker? Hurry up--your friends will soonbe coming back, and I don't think they intend to argue," he added.
Gosler, still rubbing his head and muttering, finally spoke. "Verywell, you nasty young man, I'll sell my glass. Give me the coin!" andhe stretched out a dirty claw.
"Oh no!" Chris shook his head decisively. "No indeed! You put theglass down between us--carefully, mind you--and back away. I'll throwyou the coin when I've seen if the glass is worth the silver!"
Mumbling to himself, Simon Gosler did as he was told. He reached backin his coat pocket to draw out a small spyglass, which he laid down onthe ground. He then backed away. Chris picked up and examined theglass, tested it, and then just as the two gamblers came back up theriverbank, tossed the silver piece to the beggar. Gosler caught it inmid-air with the dexterity of years of practice. In an instant Chrishad vanished into the thick shade of the wood, and going as fast butas quietly as he could, regained the place where Amos waited for him.
"Gee, Chris!" Amos exclaimed, for he had caught all Chris's expressionof speech, "We got us a spyglass!"
"We sure have!" Chris agreed, "And it's a fine one--best I ever saw,"he said. "Here, try it out over the river there, where that ship isanchored."
Amos pointed the glass through the shrubs toward a distant ship thatswung at anchor close to the shore, and while he tried out theirprize, Chris watched the departure of the three gamblers. Gosler hadevidently paid up while Chris was returning to their hidden perch, forhe was now hustled into the boat by the other two. Soon the three werefar down the stream and their boat was moving into the main flow ofthe river.
"Here," Amos said passing back the glass, "you look. That's a mightyfine ship out there, black as the _Mirabelle_ is white, but she looksfast and strong just the same."
But Chris, taking the glass, was idly following the progress of thethree men. Gosler, lost in gloom, sat in the stern hugging his ragsabout him. The other two bent their backs to the oars and headedstraight for the anchored ship.
Turning the glass to the brig Chris hunted for the name as the prowswung about. Through the glass the letters, gold on the black-paintedside, leapt at his eye across the distance. _Venture_, Chris read, andwith a beating heart he saw his adversary's ship for the first time.
Mr. Wicker's Window Page 14
