If she had had any doubts about the right and wrong of an attempt to thwart the sheriff before, Laura had none _now_. Perhaps her course was indefensible; but intuitively she believed that farmer to be a bad man. And she was sure that he was the one who had set the sheriff on this trail.

He had doubtless followed the young man with the gun and seen him join Professor Dimp. The two had paddled for Acorn Island. The farmer had communicated with the sheriff.

Right then, so hotly burned Laura's righteous indignation, that she would have done her very best to keep the officer of the law from landing those bloodhounds, and chasing the mysterious "Mr. Norman" out of his hiding place.

But it was Bobby who put the ball into play first.

"Say, Mister! don't you bring those dogs ash.o.r.e here!" she called to the sheriff.

He was a big, red-faced, beefy-looking man, with a bristling mustache and little, piglike eyes.

"I wanter know!" he said, huskily. "Who do you think you are giving orders to, young lady?"

"You are a sheriff, aren't you?"

"Yes I be," said the man.

"And you are searching all the woods around about for a convict?"

"Not perzactly. But he's likely ter be a convic' arter I git him," and he chuckled, hoa.r.s.ely.

"Well, this island is posted. We have a permit to camp here, but I don't believe _you_ have any warrant for landing at all," said Bobby, sharply. "And my father, who is one of the directors of the Rocky River Lumber Company, certainly does not want a pack of hounds like those, running the game on this island--out of season, too."

"This ain't that kind o' game, young lady," said the sheriff, slowly.

Then he stopped. A figure had suddenly appeared from the wood. It was a shabby but commanding figure, and the girls themselves shrank together and waited for the old Latin professor to speak.

"Miss Hargrew is quite right," said Professor Dimp, in his iciest tone. "Those hounds must not land here."

"I say, now!" growled the sheriff.

"This is private property," continued Professor Dimp, coldly, "as Miss Hargrew tells you. You can see the signs. You will trespa.s.s here if you are determined. But I warn you that if you bring those dogs ash.o.r.e you will be prosecuted."

"I'm a-goin' to search this islan'," growled Sheriff Larkin, uglily.

"You may. You have no warrant to do so, but you may. But you must not bring ash.o.r.e those dogs. And," added the professor, turning and bowing with old-fashioned courtesy to Mrs. Morse, "you must keep away from the camp where this lady and her young charges are ensconced."

He turned on his heel in conclusion, and walked into the woods again.

"Three rousing cheers!" whispered Bobby under her breath. "What's the matter with Old Dimple? _He's_ all right!"

CHAPTER XXIII

LIZ ON THE DEFENSIVE

The professor had spoken with such authority that Sheriff Larkin hesitated in his intention of landing the bloodhounds. Besides, having learned that one of these girls was a daughter of a member of the powerful lumber company, he feared to make a misstep.

The Rocky River Lumber Company could make or break a sheriff easily enough. The political power of the men owning the corporation in Monadnock County was supreme.

"Well, I tell ye what it is, ladies," he said, pulling off his broad brimmed hat to wipe a perspiring, red brow. "I gotter do my duty----"

"With the prospect of five hundred dollars ahead of you!" interposed Bobby, pertly.

"That ain't neither here nor there," declared the man. "I got to search the island."

"You know best what you must do, sir," said Mrs. Morse, coldly. "But I beg of you to leave your dogs on the boat. I am afraid of the brutes."

"And don't come to _our_ camp, I pray, looking for any criminal," said Laura, speaking for the first time.

"Why! I guess not, Ma'am!" cried the sheriff. "Come on, boys. Leave them dawgs tied yere. And we'll go over the island. It's purty open timber this end, so he ain't likely to be near here."

They had moored the barge. Barnacle had barked himself hoa.r.s.e. When the sheriff and four of his companions leaped ash.o.r.e, he put his tail between his legs and scuttled up the hillside again.

At the top he suddenly began to bark once more. He did not face down hill, but seemed distraught about something, or somebody, in the camp.

"Hey!" exclaimed the ugly farmer whom Laura had taken a dislike to the previous day. "That dawg sees something."

"He is crazy," spoke up Laura, quickly. "He is like enough barking at our maid."

"Sure!" rejoined Bobby. "Liz is up there."

"Come on!" exclaimed the sheriff to his men, and started westward, in the direction Professor Dimp had taken.

"Whom do you suppose the Barnacle is really barking at?" whispered Jess to Laura Belding. "He'd never make all that 'catouse' over Liz.

In fact, he wouldn't bark at her at all."

"Hush!" warned Laura, as the party started up the slope toward the camp.

Jess looked at her curiously. Barnacle was still barking with desperate determination. Liz appeared before the Central High girls climbed to the top of the hillock, and catching the dog by the collar, dragged him over to the corner of the log cabin and snapped on his chain.

"There!" Laura heard her say. "Ye kin bark your head off--but ye can't run."

The girl went back to her cook-tent and began clearing up the breakfast things again. Laura noted that she seemed to have done nothing while they were down on the sh.o.r.e.

But that was not surprising; perhaps she had crept near to overhear the talk with the sheriff. Now Liz said nothing to any of them, and went grimly on with her work.

"It's my turn to help you get dinner, Lizzie," Laura said, quietly.

"What are we going to have? Shall I begin by peeling the potatoes?"

"No. Don't want yer," said Liz, shortly.

"Why! of course you want some help----"

"Don't neither!" snapped the maid-of-all-work.

"Why, Lizzie!" said Laura, in surprise--at least, in apparent surprise! "You surely don't want to do all the work yourself?"