The Moving Picture Boys on the Coast Part 9

He paused, as if to gather his thoughts, and then resumed:

"You see I'm pretty old, and I have to have an a.s.sistant at this light.

I expect soon I'll have to give up altogether. But I'm going to hang on as long as I can. I've had three a.s.sistants in the last year, and one of 'em, as you know now, was Nathaniel Duncan, Joe's father. Before him I had a likely young fellow named--ah, well, I've forgotten, and the name doesn't matter much anyhow. But when he left the board sent me this Duncan, and I must say I liked him right well."

"What sort of a man was he?" asked Blake.

"A nice sort of man. He was about middle aged, tall, well built, and strong as a horse. He looked as if he had had trouble, though, and gradually he told me his story. His wife had died when his boy and girl were young----"

"Girl! Was there a girl?" cried Blake. "Has Joe a sister, too?"

"He had--whether he has yet, I don't know," went on Mr. Stanton. "I'll tell you all I know.

"As I said, Nate Duncan seemed to have had lots of sorrow, and he told me how, after his wife died, he had placed the boy and girl in charge of some people, and gone off to the California mines to make some money.

When he come back, rich, the children had disappeared, and so had the people he left 'em with. He never could locate 'em, though he tried hard, and so did his half-brother, Bill. But Bill was different from Nate, so I understand. Bill was a reckless sort of chap, while Joe's father was quite steady."

"That's right," spoke Blake, and then he related how Joe had come to get a trace of his father.

"Well," resumed Mr. Stanton, "as I said, Duncan came here, and he and I got along well together. Then there came trouble."

"Trouble? What kind?" asked Joe.

"Trouble with wreckers, lad. The meanest and most wicked kind of trouble there can be on a seacoast. A band of bad men got together and by means of false lights lured small vessels out of their course so they went on the rocks. Then they got what they could when the cargo was washed ash.o.r.e."

"But what has that got to do with Joe's father?" asked Blake.

"Too much, I'm afraid, lad. It was said that the light here was allowed to go out some nights, so the false light would be more effective."

"Well?"

"Well, Nate Duncan had charge of the light at night after I went off duty. And it was always when I was off duty that the wrecks occurred."

"Do you mean to accuse Joe's father of being in with the wreckers?"

"No, lad. I don't accuse anybody; I'm too old a man to do anything like that. But ugly stories began to be circulated. Government inspectors began to call more often than they used to, inspecting my light--my light, that I've tended nigh onto twenty-five years now. I began to hear rumors that my a.s.sistant wasn't altogether straight. He was said to be seen consorting with the wreckers, though it was hard to get proof that the men were wreckers, for they pretended to be fishermen.

"Then come a day when, with my own eyes, I saw Nate Duncan walking along the beach with one of the men who was said to be at the head of the wrecking gang. I could see that they were quarreling, and then Nate knocked the man down. He didn't get up right away, for, as I said, Nate was strong. I knew something would come of that, and I wasn't much surprised when that day Nate disappeared."

"Disappeared?" cried Blake.

"Went off completely, and left me alone at the light. I tended it all night, same as I had done before, many a time, and the next day I reported matters, and I had a new a.s.sistant--the same one I have now."

"But that doesn't prove anything," said Blake. "Just because Joe's father, and a man suspected of being a wrecker, had a quarrel, doesn't say that Mr. Duncan was a wrecker, too."

"There's more to it," went on the old man. "The day after Nate Duncan disappeared detectives came here looking for him."

Blake started. There was more to the story than he had suspected. He looked at Mr. Stanton, and glanced out of the window to where Joe still sat.

"So that's why I say maybe it would be better for Joe if his father was dead," went on Mr. Stanton. "Disgrace is a terrible thing, and I couldn't bear to tell Joe, when he asked me about his father."

"But where did he go?" asked Blake. "Didn't he leave any trace at all?"

"Not a trace, lad--folks most generally doesn't when the detectives are after 'em. Hold on, though, I won't say Nate was guilty on my own hook.

I'm only telling you what happened. I'd hate to believe he was a wrecker, misusing this light to draw vessels on the dangerous rocks; but it looks black, it looks black."

"Did the detectives actually accuse Mr. Duncan?" asked Blake.

"Well, they as much as did. They said some of the wreckers had been arrested, and had incriminated the a.s.sistant light-keeper. But Duncan was smart enough--provided he was guilty--to skip out. As I told Joe, his father left just before the letter from Flagstaff came, so he doesn't know his son is alive. Poor man, I'm sorry for him. He told me how he had searched all over for his children, and at last, becoming tired and discouraged, he took this job just to have something to do, for he's well enough off not to have to work."

"And there's no way of telling where he went?" questioned Blake.

"Nary a one that I know of, lad. As I said, maybe he's better off lost."

"Not for Joe."

"Well, maybe not; but for himself. There are heavy penalties for wrecking, and it's well he wasn't caught, though, as I say, I don't accuse him. Only it looks black, it looks black. If he was innocent why didn't he stay and fight it out? Yes, lad, it looks black."

"I'm afraid so," sighed Blake. "How can I ever tell Joe the news?"

"You mustn't!" exclaimed the old man. "That's just it. You must not tell him. I'd hate to destroy his faith in his father. It would be cruel.

That's why I asked if you could keep a secret. You won't tell him; will you?"

"No," said Blake, in a low voice; "I won't tell him."

CHAPTER IX

AT PRACTICE

There was silence between man and boy for a s.p.a.ce, and then Blake, understanding how hard it would be to keep the news from Joe, said:

"I'll have to tell him something, Mr. Stanton. Joe will want to know why his father went away, and where. Isn't there any way in which we may get a clue to the direction he took?"

"Wait a minute until I think, lad," said the old man. "It may be that we can find a clue, after all. Nate Duncan left some papers behind. I haven't looked at 'em, not wis.h.i.+ng to make trouble, but there may be a clue there. I'll get 'em."

"And I'll call Joe in to go over them with me," said Blake. "He'll want to see them."

"But, mind you, not a word about what I've told you."

"No, I'll keep quiet," promised Blake. "I'll call him in, while you get the papers."

Going to the door of the little cottage, Blake called to his chum.

"What is it?" asked Joe, eagerly. "Was there some mistake? Is my father somewhere around here, after all?"

"Well, we hope to find him," said Blake, with an a.s.surance he did not feel. "Look here, Joe, your father went away rather suddenly, it seems, but you mustn't think anything about that. He's been traveling all over, you know, looking for you and your sister----"