A Young Inventor's Pluck Part 21

"We are not anxious to try it again," Jack put in.

The "house" consisted of a dilapidated cottage of two rooms and an attic, almost wholly covered by grape vines. Meg led the way around to the back, and motioned them to a bench under a big tree.

"Better stay out here. It's cooler and nicer," she said. "I'll fetch a table;" and in a few seconds she had done so, and placed it before them.

"Don't take too much trouble," said Mont; "we are hungry enough to tackle almost anything."

"'Tain't no trouble--leastwise, not if there's money in it. Pooler wors.h.i.+ps money."

"Is he rich?" asked Jack.

"Don't ask me!" replied Meg. "I've often heard the men say he was rich, but I never see any money."

"Doesn't he give you any?"

"Not a cent. Say, how will coffee and bread, with some pickerel do? I can get them ready in a few minutes."

"First-rate," replied Mont.

"Then just wait;" and Meg disappeared within the cottage.

"Quite a smart la.s.s," remarked Jack when they were alone.

"Awfully wild, though," returned Mont; "I would like to see this Pooler.

Something runs in my mind concerning him--I can't exactly tell what."

"I shouldn't wonder but what he misuses that girl awfully," added Jack, with a shake of his head.

It was not long before Meg returned with quite a substantial meal for both. She set the things before them, and then stood by, ready for further orders.

"What does Mr. Pooler do for a living?" asked Mont, while eating.

"Nothin' 'cept run his farm here," replied the girl. "He's gettin'

kinder old."

"He is a farmer, then?"

"Yep. That is, now. He used to work in the tool works at Corney."

"He did?" exclaimed Mont, with interest. "I work there. How long ago was this?"

"I don't know exactly. I heard Mosey and him talkin' 'bout it."

Jack dropped his knife and fork in astonishment.

"Whom did you say?" he e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed.

"Mosey," repeated Meg. "Do you know him?"

"I think I do. Is his first name Andy?"

"Yep."

"Well, I'm stumped!" declared the young machinist. "Yes, I know him," he continued bitterly. "And he'll know me, too, when we meet again."

Jack meant all his manner implied. His blood boiled at the thought of the Irishman, and the cowardly treatment he had received at the mill.

"Does Mosey come here often?" he asked.

"Not lately. He used to, him and two or three more. But I oughten to tell you all this! Pooler'll beat me if he finds it out."

"Not if I'm around!" replied Jack, stoutly. "But we will not mention what you have told us."

"Wish you wouldn't. But I don't care anyhow; I'm gettin' tired, and sha'n't stay much longer."

"What will you do?" asked Mont.

"Run away," was the quick reply.

"Where to?"

"I don't know, and I don't care, either. Any place is as good as this, I reckon."

"Perhaps you can find some sort of a home in Corney," suggested the young machinist. "You seem to be quite handy. I will help you if I can."

"And so will I," put in Mont.

"I could do better if I had half a chance," a.s.serted Meg, tapping the ground with her foot.

"May I ask what other men visit Mr. Pooler?" inquired the young man, after a pause.

"A man by the name of Corrigan sometimes comes with Mosey."

"Corrigan!"

Jack and Mont uttered the name together. Here was certainly news. Yet they never dreamt of what was coming.

"Any one else?" asked Jack.

"A man used to come sometimes at night. Pooler thought I never saw him, but I did--and heard who he was, too."

"What was his name?" asked Mont, with just the slightest tremor in his voice.

"Mr. Gray--Felix, Pooler called him."

Mont looked at Jack in deep perplexity.

"There is surely a mystery here," he said.