THE remarks of the landlord served to weaken the belief of Arthur and Phil in their theory of the boat, and they began to doubt the expediency of setting off in the Antelope. The easy way also in which the landlord met the difficulties of the case, and accounted for everything, had a very great effect in diminishing, if not in destroying, the anxiety which they had begun to feel. They had nothing to offer in reply, and they naturally gave up their proposal. They began to think that the absentees might make their appearance at any moment, and that under the circumstances it would be very unwise to start off on a long, uncertain, and unprofitable cruise in the Antelope. And thus it was that the whole party came to the conclusion to remain where they were, and wait for Bart and Pat.
With this intention they all went back to the inn. On arriving there, they found a man who had just come to the house, and was waiting to find the landlord. He looked like one of those half farmers, half fishers, who live about Mahone Bay; and the boys would not have paid any attention to him, had they not been startled by his first words.
“It’s about a couple o’ lads,” said he, “jest like them there. I’m afraid there’s somethin gone wrong with ‘em.”
At the mention of “a couple o’ lads jest like them there,” all the boys started, and gathered round the stranger with eager and anxious curiosity.
“Ye see,” continued the man, “it was yesterday morn’n,—an them two come a knockin at my door about sunrise, or not much arter, and asked the way to Oak Island.”
“Oak Island!” repeated the landlord, in a strange voice. The other boys noticed his tone, but as they knew nothing whatever of the character of Oak Island, they were of course unable to understand the cause of it, or the meaning of those words.
“It seems they was a huntin up the way there,” continued the man. “They had a boat with them.”
“A boat?” said the landlord; “a sail-boat, or row-boat?”
“A sail-boat,” said the man. “They were strangers—that was evident: and they wanted to find Oak Island. Wal, I showed them the island, for it can be seen plain enough from my door. My name’s Roach, an I live on the shore up there. So we had some talk about the treasure, an they asked me if I believed. An I says, ‘Yes, I do.’ For at first they thought I didn’t believe. But I did, an I do. And I says to them, says I, ‘Flesh an blood won’t never lay hands on that thar treasure till there’s a sacrifice of human life took place.’ That’s what I says, in so many words. Wal, some more words followed, an then them two went on an steered to the island.
“Wal, I don’t know how it was, but I kep a thinkin about them two all day long. At last I fell a wonderin why they didn’t come back. There wasn’t no sign of any boat a comin back from that island. They was on it, I knowed; an why they staid on it I couldn’t make out. It began to bother me. An all the time I couldn’t help thinkin of what I told em, an the words kep a ringin in my ears as to how that there’s got to be a sacrifice of human life before the treasure’s riz out of the hole whar the pirates buried it. An I couldn’t get them words out o’ my head. An what’s more, I got a thinkin that them two lads was kine o’ connected with them words,—jest as if it was a sort o’ prophecy like, that I’d gone an spoke,—not knowin, an not intendin it, you know, but givin a prophecy all the same,—as is gen’rally the case, you know; for often it happens that them that prophesies hain’t got no intention of so doin, an hain’t got no reel idee of the meanin of what they’re sayin. An that was jest the case with me, an it was only afterwards that these thoughts come.
“Wal, all day long I was in this state, an felt dreadful anxious, an more an more so as the day went by. It was yesterday. An I see no signs of that thar boat a comin back. An when evenin come I begun to feel pooty skeart, an I’d a gone off then but darsn’t, for fear of the ghosts of them old pirates that prowl around on the island arter dark. I didn’t close my eyes all last night, or sleep a wink, for thinkin o’ them two lads. It seemed to me that I’d been kine o’ to blame—though whar the blame was, no one can say, for I was as innocent of blame as a babe unborn. But so it was, an I couldn’t sleep. Wal, this morn’n I was up before dawn, an into my boat, an off for the island. I got thar about sunrise.
“Wal, I landed thar, on Oak Island, an the fust thing I see was that thar identical boat that the boys had—the very one. I couldn’t mistake it; an it lay hauled up on the beach, an tied thar. But thar wasn’t any sign of any boys anywhars. I called, an shouted, but no answer come. Wal, then I walked up some distance, an looked all around everywhars. ’Tain’t much of an island in size; so I soon walked all round it; but I didn’t see nothin of them thar lads. I looked at one or two of them pits that’s ben dug thar, but didn’t see anythin but water. I kep a screamin an a shoutin all the time, but thar wasn’t any answer at all. Thar was the boat on the beach,—but whar was the boys? I couldn’t see em, I couldn’t find em; and though I called for em, they didn’t answer.
“Wal, I went back to the beach, an then I stood an tried to think what I’d best do. Somethin had happened. I knowed that the best thing to do was to make haste an try to let the friends of them lads know how things was. I knowed that they was strangers in these parts, an that they’d come from Chester. I thought I’d find out about em here at the inn, an that the best an quickest way would be to come right straight off to this place, an see if I couldn’t larn somethin about em, or find some friends o’ thairs that’d come with me back again, an find out, for sure an sartin, what it was that had happened. An what troubled me most all the time, and troubles me now, is them very words that I said to em as to how that it was necessary that thar must be a sacrifice of human life. For I’m kine o’ feared that it’s turned out true, an that them’s the very ones that was destined to be that sacrifice. They’ve got into some trouble, I know—but how it was I don’t know, an whether it was in the day time, or at night. This is what I want to find out.”
“What did the boys look like?” asked the landlord, as the man ceased.
“Wal, jest sech lookin lads as these—not overly well dressed, in fact a leetle mite shabby; but one of them was a gentleman’s son,—no doubt o’ that; an the other was a bright-lookin lad enough.”
“It’s Bart and Pat. There’s no doubt of that,” said Bruce.
“And what sort of a boat was it?”
“O, an ordinary Chester boat, with a sail, as I said.”
“Is the boat on the beach of Oak Island yet?”
“Course it is. I left it where it was. But air them thar boys a stoppin here? Do you know them?”
“Yes,” said the landlord, in a husky voice; and he stood in silence for a few moments, with his eyes cast down.
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