CHAPTER XXVII

THE RED OAR AGAIN

"Cora Kimball, what are you going to do?" gasped Lottie, trying to hold back her chum.

"I'm going to go to Denny's aid. Why shouldn't I? It's four to one, but even if we are girls we can perhaps turn the tide in his favor."

"Oh, Cora, I don't dare!" admitted Belle.

"Nor I," added her plump sister. "I'll faint if you go in where those horrid men are."

"Faint if you like," returned Cora, calmly. "Somebody else will have to look after you, then, for I'm going."

"But why?" asked Lottie. "We ought not to interfere when men are going to fight, and I think that's what's going to happen in there."

"That is what's going to happen," said Cora, "but perhaps we can prevent it. For some unknown reason, though the boys promised to come here and defend Denny, they haven't done so. Therefore, it's our place to do it."

"Yes, and I'm going with you!" announced Marita, determinedly.

All this talk had taken but a few seconds of time, and, as it had been in whispers, the men in the cabin had not heard it. The situation, however, was rapidly becoming acute.

With one accord, after Bruce had stepped toward old Denny, the others advanced. They were evidently going to lay violent hands on him. But the st.u.r.dy fisherman was not afraid.

"Stand back!" he cried. "Stand back or I'll do you harm--you cowards!"

"No use calling names!" sneered Kelly. "We're here to do you. We made you a fair offer, and you wouldn't take it. Now you'll have to abide by the consequences."

"Get behind him," said Bruce. "I can take him from where I stand."

"Get back! Get out of here!" ordered the old man.

He raised the red oar over his head, threateningly.

"Grab him!" cried Moran. "Grab that oar!"

"You'll get it over the head before you grab it!" threatened Denny.

"Mind that, now!"

The fisherman swung his weapon, but he either had not calculated on the length of it, or he forgot that he was nearer to the wall than he had been at first. The blade of the oar caught in a hanging picture, and was entangled in the wire.

Denny, putting all his strength into the blow he had hoped would disable one of his a.s.sailants, was thrown off his balance. He toppled and nearly fell.

"Now we've got him!" yelled Kelly.

The cowardly men, attacking the single fisherman with overwhelming numbers, made a leap forward.

"Stop! Let him alone. We'll call the police!" screamed Cora, and the other girls added their shrill voices to hers. They rushed into the cabin.

"The girls I raced with!" muttered Bruce. "We've no time to fool with them. Don't mind them. Get at Shane!"

"Get at me, is it?" cried the fisherman. He had by this time disentangled the oar from the picture wire. Again he raised it over his head, intending to bring it down on Kelly.

As the red weapon descended Kelly shot up his hand and caught it. He twisted on the oar to wrest it from Denny's grasp, and the two suddenly went to the floor, jarring the whole cabin.

And at that instant there was a sound of splintering, breaking wood.

Some red slivers flew out from between the two prostrate men who were struggling for possession of the weapon.

"The red oar! It's broken!" cried Denny. "Me old red oar, that saved me life in the hands of Grandfather Lewis! The red oar is broken, bad luck to you! Cowards that you are!"

The girls were screaming, but even Cora, brave as she was, dared go no nearer to the two desperately struggling men. Bruce and Moran were seeking an opening that they might get hold of Denny. The fourth man had gone back to the boat, seemingly. He had leaped out of the window as the girls entered.

The cabin was a place of wild excitement.

"Get that oar away from him!" cried Bruce. "Here's some rope. Tie him up, and then we'll get what we want out of him!"

"Don't you dare hurt him!" screamed Cora.

"Ah, would you?" gasped Denny, as he rolled out from under Kelly, who had sought to pa.s.s a rope about the old man's wrists. "I'm not down and out yet!" he panted. "The red oar is broken, but I've got the best end yet."

He staggered to his feet, holding the handle of the red oar. One end was splintered where it had been broken from the blade.

"Come on! I'm not afraid!" yelled Denny. "Come on. You girls had better leave----there's going to be trouble!"

"We won't go! Help is on the way. The boys are coming!" cried Cora, though she did not know when Jack and the others would arrive.

"Oh, if they were only here now! When we need them so!" gasped Lottie.

Again Denny swung what was left of the red oar around his head. He aimed a blow at the face of Bruce, but it fell short and struck the man on the shoulder.

Then a strange thing happened. The handle of the oar split lengthwise, and from a hollow place inside there flew out a roll of papers, yellow with age. And on one of them was a red seal--a legal-looking seal.

Bruce staggered at the blow, and a strange look came over his face. It might have been that he was dazed, but his eyes lighted on the roll of papers that had fallen to the floor. There they lay--a curious roll that had come from the secret crevice in the red oar.

The struggle had come to a sudden end. The girls ceased screaming and stood looking on dumbly, unable to understand what had happened.

As for the men they, too, seemed startled by the strange turn of events.

Kelly rose to his feet, and was creeping up on Denny from behind. His arms were outstretched, and his fingers worked convulsively, as though they would like to close about the fisherman's throat, and force him to testify as the plotters desired.

Cora wanted to scream a warning, but some strange force seemed to hold her dumb.

"The red oar--it's broken--broken! Me old red oar, that saved me life!" murmured Denny Shane. "But I never knew 'twas hollow. Never! I wonder did Grandfather Lewis----"

He did not complete the sentence, for at that instant Bruce leaped forward and caught up the roll of yellow papers from the floor.

"Give me those!" cried Denny leaping at him with the jagged piece of the red oar in his gnarled hands--the hands that had, so many years ago, grasped the same oar in what was little short of a death-grip.

"Give me those papers!" fairly roared Denny. "I don't know what they are, but they're not yours. Give 'em to me!"

"Give you these! I guess not!" sneered Bruce. "They are just what we want--the land papers. They're the only ones by which the widow could prove her shadowy claim to the property, and with them out of the way it's all clear sailing for us.