.dt The Mail Carrier, by Harry Castlemon—A Project Gutenberg eBook
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Dave, the Mail Carrier.
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[Illustration: Dave, the Mail Carrier.]
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BOY TRAPPER SERIES.
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THE
MAIL CARRIER.
By HARRY CASTLEMON,
AUTHOR OF “THE FRANK NELSON SERIES,” “THE SPORTSMAN’S CLUB SERIES,”
“GUNBOAT SERIES,” &C.
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[Illustration: Publisher’s Logo]
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PHILADELPHIA:
PORTER & COATES.
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FAMOUS CASTLEMON BOOKS.
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GUNBOAT SERIES. By Harry Castlemon. Illustrated. 6 vols.
16mo. Cloth, extra, black and gold.
Frank the Young Naturalist. Frank on a Gunboat.
Frank in the Woods. Frank before Vicksburg. Frank
on the Lower Mississippi. Frank on the Prairie.
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ROCKY MOUNTAIN SERIES. By Harry Castlemon.
Illustrated. 3 vols. 16mo. Cloth, extra, black and gold.
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Frank among the Rancheros.
Frank at Don Carlos’ Rancho.
Frank in the Mountains.
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SPORTSMAN’S CLUB SERIES. By Harry Castlemon.
Illustrated. 3 vols. 16mo. Cloth, extra, black and gold.
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The Sportsman’s Club in the Saddle.
The Sportsman’s Club Afloat.
The Sportsman’s Club among the Trappers.
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GO-AHEAD SERIES. By Harry Castlemon. Illustrated. 3
vols. 16mo. Cloth, extra, black and gold.
Tom Newcombe. Go-Ahead. No Moss.
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FRANK NELSON SERIES. By Harry Castlemon. Illustrated.
3 vols. 16mo. Cloth, extra, black and gold.
Snowed Up. Frank in the Forecastle. Boy
Traders.
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BOY TRAPPER SERIES. By Harry Castlemon. Illustrated.
3 vols. 16mo. Cloth, extra, black and gold.
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The Buried Treasure; or, Old Jordan’s Haunt.
The Boy Trapper; or, How Dave Filled the Order.
The Mail Carrier.
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ROUGHING IT SERIES. By Harry Castlemon. Illustrated.
16mo. Cloth, extra, black and gold.
George in Camp.
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Other Volumes in Preparation.
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Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1879, by
PORTER & COATES,
In the Office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington.
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CONTENTS.
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CHAPTER | | PAGE
I. | “Hark Back!” | #5:ch01#
II. | A Mighty Hunter | #24:ch02#
III. | Lester shows his courage | #42:ch03#
IV. | Don shows his | #55:ch04#
V. | Godfrey visits the Cabin | #73:ch05#
VI. | Bob is astonished | #94:ch06#
VII. | Bob’s Plans | #114:ch07#
VIII. | Bob in a quandary | #131:ch08#
IX. | The Runaway | #147:ch09#
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X. | Bob’s first Adventure | #165:ch10#
XI. | The Cub Pilot | #185:ch11#
XII. | George at the Wheel | #207:ch12#
XIII. | The burning of the Sam Kendall | #227:ch13#
XIV. | A Specimen Trapper | #246:ch14#
XV. | The lost Pocket-book | #265:ch15#
XVI. | Dan makes a discovery | #286:ch16#
XVII. | Conclusion | #303:ch17#
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THE||MAIL CARRIER.
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CHAPTER I || “HARK BACK!”
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“LOOK out thar, Dannie! Don’t run over a
feller!”
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Dan Evans, who was trudging along the dusty
road, with his eyes fastened thoughtfully on the
ground, and his mind so wholly given up to meditation
that he did not know what was going on around
him, stopped suddenly when these words fell upon
his ear, and looked up to find himself confronted by
a horseman, who had checked his nag just in time
to prevent the animal from stepping on the boy.
He was a small planter in the neighborhood, and
Dan was well acquainted with him.
“You’re gettin’ to be sich rich folks up to your
house that you look fur everybody to get outen your
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way, I reckon, don’t you?” continued the planter,
with a good-natured smile.
“Rich!” repeated Dan, flushing angrily, as he
drew his tattered coat about him. He did not
know what the planter meant, and thought he was
making sport of his poverty. “I can’t help it kase
I don’t wear good clothes like Don and Bert, kin I?
I work monstrous hard——”
“And get well paid fur it, too, I tell you,” interrupted
the horseman. “I’d be glad of a chance to
’arn that much money myself. You needn’t wear
sich clothes as them no longer, kase Dave an’ you is
pardners, most likely, an’ he’ll do what’s right by
you.”
“Dave!” echoed Dan, who now began to listen
more eagerly.
“Yes. He’s a powerful smart boy, Dave is, an’
I’m glad to see him so lucky. He took home a wad
of greenbacks this arternoon as big as that,” said
the planter, pushing back his sleeve and showing
his brawny wrist.
Dan fairly gasped for breath. He backed toward
a log by the roadside and seated himself upon it,
letting his rifle fall out of his hands in his excitement.
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“Yes,” continued the planter, who seemed to be
a little surprised at Dan’s behavior; “them quails
reached that man up North all right, an’ to-day the
money come—a hundred an’ ninety-two dollars an’
a half.”
Dan gasped again, and, taking off his hat, drew
his coat-sleeve across his forehead.
“Yes. Silas Jones, he done took twenty-eight
dollars outen it fur freight an’ give Dave the balance—a
trifle over a hundred an’ sixty-four dollars.
I was in the store at the time, an’ it done me good
to see Dave take them thar greenbacks an’ walk
out.”
“Whar—whar’s the money now?” Dan managed
to ask at last.
“Why, he took it home with him, I reckon.
What else should he do with it? Now, Dannie,
don’t you get on a high hoss an’ say that you won’t
look at us common folks any more.”
With this parting advice the planter rode off,
leaving Dan sitting on his log, lost in wonder. It
was a long time before he recovered himself, and
when he did, he jumped to his feet as if he had just
thought of something that ought to have been attended
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to long ago, caught up his rifle and disappeared
in the woods.
This incident happened on the same day on which
Silas Jones paid David for the quails he had shipped
by the steamer Emma Deane. At the close of the
second volume of this series, we saw that as soon as
David had received the reward of his labors he
made all haste to reach home. He found his mother
there, but before he said a word to her about
his good fortune he walked around the cabin two or
three times and looked sharply in every direction, to
make sure that his brother Dan was nowhere in the
vicinity; and having satisfied himself on this point,
he went in and laid the roll of greenbacks in his
mother’s lap.
David had reason to feel proud, for he had earned
the money in spite of many obstacles. In the first
place, there was Dan, who, when he learned that
his brother was in a fair way to earn a handsome
sum of money by trapping quails and shipping them
to a man in the North, who had advertised for them,
determined to share in the proceeds of his work, and
offered to go into partnership with him; but David
would not consent, and this made Dan his enemy.
Dan declared that not a quail should be caught in
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those fields. He would make it his business to hunt
up his brother’s traps, and if there were any birds
in them he would either liberate them or wring their
necks, and then he would smash the traps. But, as
it happened, Dan did not carry this threat into execution.
An older and wiser person than himself,
with whom he held frequent consultations, had
another plan to propose, and Dan readily fell in
with it.
Godfrey Evans, Dan’s father and David’s, was in
deep disgrace. He had robbed Clarence Gordon
of twenty dollars on the highway, and for fear that
he would be arrested and punished for it, he took to
the woods and stayed there. He lived on a little
island in the bayou, about two miles from the settlement,
which had been his hiding-place during the
war, when the Union forces were raiding that part
of Mississippi. Here he lived in a miserable brush
lean-to, with no companion but his rifle, until his
hiding-place was accidentally discovered by Dan,
during one of his rambles in the woods.
Of course Godfrey was anxious to know what had
been going on in the settlement since he left, and
among other things Dan told him that David was
going to make himself rich by catching quails, but
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that he (Dan) had resolved to put a stop to it by
breaking his traps. After hearing a statement of
the case, Godfrey told his hopeful son that if he
wished to be revenged upon David for his refusal to
go into partnership with him, there was a better
way than that. It was not to their interest to interfere
with the Boy Trapper in any manner. Let
him go on and catch the birds, and when his work
was done and he had received the money for it, then
it would be time for them to act. They would take
the money themselves and divide it equally between
them. Godfrey did not say what he intended to do
with his share when he got it, but he drew the most
glowing pictures of the comforts and luxuries with
which Dan could provide himself when he received
the money that would fall to his lot. Dan wanted
to live just as Don and Bert Gordon lived. He
wanted a spotted pony, a breech-loading shot-gun,
a jointed fish-pole and a sail-boat; and in order to
insure his earnest assistance in the scheme he proposed,
Godfrey held out the idea that for seventy-five
dollars (they expected that David would receive
one hundred and fifty dollars for his birds, and that
would give them just seventy-five dollars apiece, if
the money were equally divided) all these nice
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things could be purchased, and besides something
would be left to be invested in good clothes.
Dan was delighted with his father’s plans, and
from that hour was as much interested in David’s
success as David was himself. It chanced, too, that
he was able to defeat a plot which, if carried into
execution, would have worked much injury to the
boy trapper. It turned out that there were two
other persons in the settlement whom David had
reason to fear. They were Lester Brigham and
Bob Owens; and as they did not expect to share in
the money after David earned it, they were determined
that he should not earn any at all. They
were disappointed applicants for the very contract
that had been given to David. When they read the
advertisement in the Rod and Gun, calling for fifty
dozen live quails, they lost no time in replying to
it; but they were just three days too late, the wide-awake
Don Gordon having already secured the order
for David Evans.
When Bob and Lester found this out they were
very angry. Bob wanted a breech-loader as much
as Dan did. Almost every boy in the settlement
with whom he associated owned one, and seventy-five
dollars would put him in possession of one, too.
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He had long been on the lookout for a chance to
earn that amount of money, and when it was almost
within his grasp it was snatched from him by that
meddlesome Don Gordon and handed over to that
ragamuffin Dave Evans. This was the way Bob
and his friend looked at the matter, and after they
had talked it over they came to the conclusion that
David had no business with so much money, and
that he should not have it. They wrote to the man
who had advertised for the quails, telling him that
the person to whom he had given the order was not
reliable and could not furnish him with the required
number of birds; and then they set to work to
make their words good.
The first thing they did was to try to frighten
David by threatening him with the terrors of a law
which did not exist. Lester told him that if he
trapped quails and sent them out of the state he
would render himself liable to fine and imprisonment;
but David knew better, and positively refused
to give up his chances of earning an honest dollar,
although Lester threatened to beat him with his
riding-whip if he did not. Being defeated at this
point, the conspirators tried another plan. They
drew up a constitution and by-laws for the government
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of a Sportsman’s Club, and Lester started out
to obtain signers to it. He first called upon Don
and Bert Gordon, for he knew that if he could secure
their names, he could secure Fred and Joe Packard’s,
too, and, through the influence of these four,
every young sportsman in the settlement could be
brought into the club. But Don and Bert did not
like Lester, and neither did they like the object for
which the club was to be organized. They saw
plainly that Bob and Lester were trying to form a
combination against David Evans, and as they could
not assist in any such business as that, they declined
to put down their names.
Highly enraged over their second failure, Bob
and Lester prepared to take vengeance on the brothers,
which they did that very night by setting fire
to their shooting-box, which was located on the shore
of the lake. Then, being determined that they
would not give up until David had been driven from
the field, they decided upon another plan, which was
to set their own traps, which they had made in expectation
of receiving the order, capture as many
birds as they could, and at the same time watch
David’s traps and steal every quail they found in
them. But this plan failed also. The quails would
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not get into their traps and they could not find any
of David’s. The reason was because they looked
on Godfrey’s plantation for them, and David’s traps
were all set in General Gordon’s fields.
The conspirators did not know that Don and Bert
were assisting David in his work, but they found it
out one morning by accident. They saw the three
boys in the act of transferring their captured quails
from a trap to a large coop they had placed in a
wagon, and following the wagon as it left the field,
they saw that when the captives were removed from
the coop they were put into one of the general’s unoccupied
negro cabins. After comparing notes they
made up their minds that the cabin was almost full
of birds, and that if they could only force an entrance
into it, they would be well repaid for their
trouble. They could steal some of them, and those
they could not carry away they could liberate.
They made the attempt that same night, and were
sorry enough for it afterward. Dan Evans was on
the watch, and he defeated their designs very neatly
by directing the attention of Don’s hounds to them.
The fierce animals forced the young robbers to take
refuge on the top of the cabin, and there they remained
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until the general came down and released
them in the morning.
While these incidents, which we have so hurriedly
described, were taking place in the settlement,
some others that have a connection with our
story were transpiring a little way out of it. The
most important of these was the discovery of Godfrey’s
hiding-place by Don and his brother, who
went up the bayou duck-hunting. It happened on
the same day that Dan discovered it, and led to a
good many incidents, some of which we have yet to
describe. The most amusing, perhaps, was the
stratagem to which Godfrey resorted to drive Don
and Bert away from the island.
The brothers landed to take a few minutes’ rest
after their long pull, and the first thing Don discovered
was his canoe, which he valued highly, and
which had been stolen from him a few days before.
The thief was Godfrey Evans, who made use of the
canoe in passing from the main land to his hiding-place
on the island. The fresh footprints which
were plainly visible in the soft mud showed that
there was somebody besides themselves on the
island, and they resolved to find out who he was.
While they were advancing along a narrow path
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leading toward the interior, Godfrey, who with Dan
was concealed in the cane at the other end of the
path, imitated the growl of some wild animal so perfectly
that Don and Bert, who were armed only
with their light breech-loaders, made all haste to
reach their boat and push off into the stream. Perhaps
the remembrance of the scenes that had once
been enacted in that same cane brake added to their
terror. The place was known as Bruin’s Island,
from the fact that a savage old bear had once made
his den there, and had been killed only after a severe
fight, during which he had wounded two men and
destroyed a number of dogs.
Don and Bert really believed that another bear
had taken possession of the island, and they resolved
to dislodge him; so they secured the services of
David Evans and his rusty single-barrel shot-gun,
and the next morning returned to the island, accompanied
by two good dogs and armed with weapons
better adapted to hunting such large game than their
little fowling-pieces were, Don being armed with his
trusty rifle and Bert with his father’s heavy duck
gun. They wanted to shoot the bear if they could,
and if they failed in that, they came provided with
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tools and bait with which to set a trap that would
catch him alive.
It is proper to state that there was a bear, which
divided his time about equally between the island
and the main shore, and the boys thought they
would certainly have an opportunity to try their
skill upon him on this particular morning, for the
hounds scented something that drove them almost
wild with excitement. But it was not a bear they
scented; it was Godfrey Evans, who waited until
both dogs and hunters were hidden from view by the
cane, and then stepped into the bayou and struck
out for the main land. The boys, however, firmly
believed that the dogs had routed a bear, and they
spent the day in building a trap for him, hoping
that the next time they visited the island they would
find the animal in it.
Now Godfrey had found it necessary to spend
some of the money of which he had robbed Clarence
Gordon, but he still had fourteen dollars of it
left. As his pockets could not be depended upon to
hold it, being full of holes, he hid the money in a
hollow log, where he thought it would be safe. The
sudden appearance of the young hunters and their
dogs so greatly excited and alarmed him that he
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never thought of his treasure when he left the
island, nor did he ever think of it again until Dan
happened to mention it to him a day or two afterward.
Then Godfrey swam back to his old hiding-place,
but the money could not be found. Don and
his companions had changed the appearance of things
considerably while they were building the trap.
Thickets had been cut down, logs rolled out of the
way, and Godfrey could not find the place where he
had hidden his ill-gotten gains. Of course he was
almost beside himself with fury, and for want of a
better way of being revenged on the young hunters,
he sprung their trap and carried off the lever, rope
and bait. He would have been glad to tear the trap
in pieces, but it had been built to resist the strength
of a full-grown bear, and Godfrey could not move
any of the logs. When Don and Bert came up in
their boat, to see if the bear had been caught, they
found their trap in the condition we have described.
They set it again, and how their efforts were rewarded
this time we have yet to tell.
Meanwhile the work of trapping the quails went
bravely on. Assisted by Don and Bert, who devoted
as many hours to the business as David did
himself, the boy trapper saw money coming in every
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day in the shape of scores of little brown birds, and
he would have been as happy as any fellow could
well be, had it not been for two unpleasant incidents
that happened a short time before the attempt was
made to rob the cabin, and which we neglected to
notice in their proper place. One of these incidents
was brought to his notice by his wide-awake
enemies, Bob and Lester.
While these two worthies were discussing their
prospects one night, shortly after dark, they detected
somebody in the act of robbing Mr. Owens’s smoke-house.
They succeeded in getting near enough to
the thief to see that it was Godfrey Evans, and this
suggested to them another plan for compelling David
to leave off trapping the quails. Instead of reporting
the matter to Mr. Owens, as they ought to have
done, they sought an interview with David, and
threatened that in case he did not leave them a clear
field, they would have his father arrested for burglary.
Of course David had no peace of mind after
that; and, as if to add to his troubles, his brother
Dan, who had already been the means of swindling
Don Gordon out of ten dollars, made an effort to
extort ten dollars more from him by stealing his fine
young pointer, Dandy. But David was able to defeat
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this scheme, though at serious loss to himself.
He visited his father’s new hiding-place in the
woods, and, finding the pointer there, he succeeded
in liberating him and starting him toward home;
but in his desperate efforts to escape the punishment
with which his angry parent threatened him he was
obliged to swim the bayou, and in so doing lost his
gun. He brought the pointer home, however, and
saved Don’s ten dollars.
But if David had more than his share of trouble,
he also had about as much good luck as generally
falls to the lot of mortals. The quails got into his
traps almost as fast as he wanted to take them out;
and furthermore, General Gordon, who had long
had his eye on the boy, was using his influence to
secure for him the responsible position of Mail
Carrier; but in so doing the general excited the
jealousy of one of his neighbors, who envied him
his popularity in the settlement, and would have
been glad to injure him by any means in his power.
This jealous neighbor was Mr. Owens, Bob’s
father.
At first Mr. Owens did not care who took the old
mail carrier’s place, so long as it was not some one
who was recommended by General Gordon; but
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after he had talked with Bob about it, it occurred to
him that it would be a fine thing if his own son
could have the position instead of that low fellow,
Dave Evans. Bob thought so, too, and suddenly
made up his mind that nothing could suit him
better. More than that, he looked upon the matter
as settled already. His father promised that he
would do the best he could for him; Lester said that
his father would furnish the required bonds, if he
(Lester) asked him to do so, and Bob thought he
needed nothing more. In his estimation, three
hundred and sixty dollars a year (that was what the
old carrier received) was a sum of money that he
would find it hard work to spend, and the belief that
he would soon be in a fair way to earn it was all he
had to comfort him when he saw David Evans walking
up and down the river bank, with his hands in
his pockets, surveying with great satisfaction the
long line of coops which contained the captured
quails, and which were piled there awaiting the
arrival of the Emma Deane.
“Just look at him,” said Bob, in great disgust.
“One would think, by the airs he puts on, that he
was worth a million dollars.”
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“Let’s come down here after dark and pitch
every coop into the river,” said Lester.
“Why, he will stay here to watch them, won’t
he?”
“What of that? If he says a word, we’ll tumble
him into the river, too!”
Bob said nothing would please him more. He
and his crony rode down to the landing that night,
about nine o’clock, fully determined to carry out
Lester’s suggestion; but, to their great surprise and
disappointment, they found David and his property
well guarded. A fire was burning brightly on the
bank, and just in front of it was pitched a little
lawn tent, which sheltered a merry party, consisting
of Don and Bert Gordon and Fred and Joe Packard,
who were singing songs and telling stories,
while waiting for the lunch and pot of coffee which
David was preparing for them. David looked up
when he heard the sound of their horses’ feet, and a
large, tawny animal arose from his bed on the other
side of the fire and growled savagely. Bob and his
companion waited to see and hear no more. They
had no desire to trouble such fellows as Don Gordon
and Fred Packard, either of whom could have
whipped them both, and they stood in wholesome
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fear of that tawny animal behind the fire. It was
the hound that had so nearly captured one of them
on the night they attempted to break into the cabin
in which the quails were confined. Without a word
they turned their horses and rode homeward, and
David and his property were allowed to rest in
peace.
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CHAPTER II || A MIGHTY HUNTER.
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THE shame and mortification which Bob and
Lester experienced after being detected in
their attempt to break into the negro cabin, were
of short duration. They gradually recovered their
courage and began to mingle again with their associates;
and although they saw one or two sly winks
exchanged the first time they went to the post-office,
no one said anything to them about being treed on
the top of the cabin, and they hoped the circumstance
was not known. But still they felt guilty,
and were much more at their ease when they were
alone.
They had much to talk about. Lester could
never cease grumbling because David had succeeded
in his enterprise, in spite of all their efforts to defeat
him, and Bob, who was full of dreams and glorious
ideas, was continually talking about the fine things
he would purchase when he became mail carrier and
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was earning three hundred and sixty dollars a year.
Then he and his friend Lester would see no end of
fun. They would have a canoe in the lake and a
shooting-box on the shore. They would camp out
twice a year, as Don and Bert did, and they would
have a crowd of fellows with them of their own
choosing. As soon as Bob had earned money enough
to purchase his breech-loader, he would invest in a
dozen or two of decoys, and they would show that
conceited Don Gordon that some boys were just as
fine marksmen as he was, and could bag just as
many birds in the course of a week’s shooting.
Lester readily fell in with these ideas, and suggested
that, as they had no better way of passing
the time just then, it might be well to make the
canoe at once. Then they could explore the lake
from one end to the other, and select a good shooting
point whereon to build their house. Bob
thought so, too, and with the help of one of his
father’s negroes, who was handy with the axe and
had shaped more than one dugout, they succeeded,
after two days’ work, in producing a very nice little
canoe, just about large enough to carry two persons
and their camp equipage. Having no iron rowlocks,
they made two paddles for it; and when they had
.pn +1
.bn 027.png
given it a coat or two of lead-colored paint, they
told each other that it was a much better and handsomer
craft than Don Gordon’s. On the same day
on which David received his money for the quails,
they put the canoe into a wagon, hauled it down to
the lake and made it fast to a tree in front of Godfrey
Evans’s cabin, promising Dan, who happened
to be at home, that they would give him a dime or
two occasionally, if he would keep an eye on it and
see that no one ran off with it.
When they reached home they found Mr. Owens,
who had just returned from the landing. They
knew by the expression on his face that he had some
news for them. Bob thought it must be something
that related to his own prospects, and eagerly inquired:
“Have I got the appointment, father? Am I
mail carrier now?”
“O, it isn’t time for that,” was the reply. “I
have not even made my bid yet. I don’t know that
you ought to have it, Bob. A boy who will let
a fellow like Dave Evans carry off a pocketful of
money from under his very nose, I don’t think
much of.”
“Has he received it?” asked Lester.
.pn +1
.bn 028.png
“I should say so. I saw Silas Jones pay him
over a hundred and sixty dollars.”
Lester pulled off his hat and threw himself on the
porch beside Mr. Owens’s chair, while Bob, who was
so amazed and angry that he could not speak, stood
still and looked at his father.
“See what you boys have lost by not having a
little more ‘get up’ about you—eighty dollars
apiece,” continued Mr. Owens. “Where’s your
breech-loader now, Bob?”
“I could have bought one for that amount of money
and a nice jointed fish-pole besides,” said the
boy, regretfully. “I hope Dave will lose every
cent of it.”
“He’ll look out for that,” answered Mr. Owens,
with a laugh. “He has worked so hard for it
that he’ll not let it slip through his fingers very
easily.”
“He never would have got it if it hadn’t been for
Don and Bert,” said Bob, spitefully. “But I don’t
care—I’ll beat them all yet. Just wait till I get to
be mail carrier, and I’ll show them a thing or two.
Don’t you think I am sure to get it, father?”
“I think your chances are as good as anybody’s.
I haven’t had an opportunity to speak to any one
.pn +1
.bn 029.png
about it yet, but I must be up and doing to-morrow,
for the general is busy all the time. He intends to
get the contract himself and hire Dave to do the
work, and that is the way I shall have to do with
you, if I get it. The general was talking about it
to-day in the store. He didn’t say a word to me—I
suppose he thought I could neither help nor hinder
him—but I walked up in front of him and told him
very plainly that David was the son of a thief, and
not fit to be trusted with such a valuable thing as
the mail. You ought to have seen the general open
his eyes. When I told him that Godfrey had robbed
my smoke-house, he said David wasn’t to blame for
that. He couldn’t help what his father did. I
made no reply, for I didn’t want to let him know
that I am working against him. If I can get the
bonds, I think the rest will be easy enough.”
“I’ll speak to my father about it to-morrow
night,” said Lester. “Bob and I are going up the
lake in the morning, and as soon as we get back I’ll
go home and fix the bond business.”
Bob passed a sleepless night. He grew angry
every time he thought of David’s success, and jubilant
and cheerful when he recalled his father’s encouraging
words. The air-castles he built were as
.pn +1
.bn 030.png
numerous and gorgeous as those Godfrey Evans
erected when he told his family about the treasure
that was buried in the general’s potato-field.
The two boys arose the next morning at an early
hour, and as soon as they had eaten breakfast and
Mrs. Owens had put up a substantial lunch for them,
they shouldered their guns and set out for the lake.
Bob carried his father’s muzzle-loading rifle, while
Lester was armed with the heavy deer-gun with
which he had bowled over so many bears and panthers
in the wilds of northern Michigan. Lester
delighted to talk of the wonderful exploits he had
performed with that same rifle, and as he had a good
memory and generally managed to tell the same
story twice alike, Bob finally came to believe that
he told nothing but the truth; but at the same time
he thought it very strange that his friend could
never be prevailed upon to give an exhibition of his
skill.
They found Godfrey’s cabin deserted by the
family (if they had known what had happened
there the night before, their delight would have
been unbounded), but the canoe was where they left
it, and they knew where to look to find the paddles.
While Bob went in search of them, Lester unlocked
.pn +1
.bn 031.png
the chain with which the canoe was secured, put in
the lunch basket and weapons, and, when all was
ready, they pushed out into the lake.
“Yes, sir, this rifle holds a high place in my estimation,”
said Lester, continuing the conversation in
which he and Bob had been engaged, as they came
along the road. “It has saved my life more than
once, as you know. The last bear I shot charged
within five feet of me before I dropped him. I put
four bullets into him in as many seconds. Where
would your muzzle-loader be in such close quarters?”
“Nowhere,” replied Bob. “That’s what makes
me so mad every time I think of Dave Evans. I
might have ordered a nice gun and had it in my
hands in a few days more, if it had not been for
him. But I’ll make it up when I get to be mail
carrier.”
“I’ll tell you what else I’ve done with this rifle,”
continued Lester, who found as much pleasure in
dwelling upon his imaginary exploits as Bob did in
talking about his future prospects. “Once when I
was walking through the woods I shot a gray squirrel
out of the very top of the tallest shell-bark
hickory I ever saw. It fell about four feet and
.pn +1
.bn 032.png
lodged on a little branch, which, from the ground,
looked no larger than a knitting-needle. I wanted
that squirrel, as it was the only one I had seen that
day, but I didn’t want to climb the tree to get it; so
I hauled up off-hand and at the first shot I cut off
that limb and brought down the squirrel. What do
you think of that?”
“I think you are a splendid marksman,” replied
Bob. “Why don’t you go to some of the shooting-matches
about here? You would be certain to carry
off some of the prizes. Let’s see you take the head
off that fellow,” he added, pointing toward the
shore.
Lester looked in the direction indicated by his
friend’s finger, and saw a quail sitting on a fallen
log, close by the water’s edge, evidently keeping
watch over the rest of the flock, which were disporting
themselves in the dusty road. As Bob spoke,
the bird uttered a note of warning, and the flock
hurried away into the bushes, but the sentinel kept
his place on the log.
“Knock him over,” said Bob. “He’ll make a
capital good dinner for us, if we don’t find any
ducks.”
“I—I am all out of practice,” replied Lester.
.pn +1
.bn 033.png
“I’ve seen the day that I could do it with my eyes
shut.”
“I can do it with my eyes open,” said Bob.
He drew in his paddle as he spoke, picked up his
father’s rifle, and, resting his elbow on his knee,
drew a bead on the bird’s head and pulled the trigger.
Bob was really a fine marksman, and the
effect of his shot made Lester open his eyes in astonishment.
The bird looked so small that it seemed
useless to shoot at its head, but Bob made a centre
shot. Lester had never seen anything like it. Bob
had never before fired a rifle in his presence (he
always used a shot-gun), and the reason was because
Lester boasted so loudly of his own skill that Bob
was afraid of being beaten.
They paddled ashore after the bird, and when
they pushed out into the lake again, Lester had
nothing more to say about hunting and shooting.
He even showed a desire to abandon the trip up the
lake and go home.
“I don’t feel very well this morning,” said he,
“and I think we had better go back.”
“O, no,” replied Bob. “You can lie down in
the bow of the canoe and I’ll do the paddling.
Does your head ache?”
.pn +1
.bn 034.png
“Dreadfully, and I thought perhaps it would be
well to speak to father about those bonds of yours.
We don’t want to be beaten again, you know.”
“Of course not, but if you speak to him to-night
it will answer every purpose. If my father had
been in any hurry he would have told you so. I
have a plan to propose that will wake you up and
put life into you. You remember that when you
went over to get Don to join our Sportsman’s Club,
he told you that he and Bert had been frightened
off Bruin’s Island by a bear, don’t you? And you
told him that perhaps you would go up there some
day and shoot him?”
“Ah! yes, I think I remember some such conversation.
But I don’t feel like it to-day. Some
other time I’ll go up there with you, and if we find
any bears there, I’ll show you how to hunt them.”
It was not at all probable that Lester or any other
boy in the settlement could have taught Bob anything
about bear-hunting. He had ridden to the
hounds almost ever since he was large enough to sit
on horseback. Nearly every planter in the neighborhood
owned a pack of dogs, Mr. Owens among
the number, and hunting with them was as much
of a pastime as base ball is in the North, and during
.pn +1
.bn 035.png
the proper season was as regularly practised. Many
an old bear had Bob seen “stretched” by the dogs,
and the rifle he then carried had been the death
of more of them than Lester could have counted on
the fingers of both hands.
“It is strange that you never come out to any
of our hunts,” said Bob. “You have often been
invited.”
“I know it, but I can’t see any fun in it,” answered
Lester, who knew that if he ever appeared
among the hunters they would soon find out that he
was a very poor horseman. “It is easy enough to
kill a bear when you have a score or two of dogs to
hold him for you; but I’d like to see one of you fellows
walk into the woods and meet one alone, as I
have. There’s where the fun comes in.”
“I should think so,” answered Bob, as, with one
sweep of his paddle, he brought the canoe to a stand-still
in the mouth of the bayou that led to Bruin’s
Island. “What do you say? Shall we go up?”
“Not to-day; my head aches too badly.”
“I was all over that island this last summer,”
continued Bob; “you know one can wade out to it
when the bayou is low; and I didn’t see any bear
sign. More than that, I know there hasn’t been a
.pn +1
.bn 036.png
bear near the island for years; but if we should go
up there and find one, and you should shoot him, I
don’t know of anything that would make Don Gordon
feel more ashamed of himself.”
Lester was quick to catch at the idea thus thrown
out. If there was no prospect of finding a bear on
the island he had no objections to going there, or,
rather, he wanted to go there. He could fearlessly
explore the island and rely upon Bob to sound his
praises in the settlement, and tell what a brave fellow
he was and what a coward Don was.
“I don’t think Don showed much pluck in running
away before he saw the bear,” said Lester.
“Of course he didn’t,” replied Bob.
“Are you sure there was no bear there?”
“I know it. Bears don’t use on that island any
more.”
“Well, let’s go up and see. If there is one
there, I’ll make you a present of his skin.”
This was enough for Bob, who, with one sweep
of his paddle, turned the canoe’s head up the bayou.
Somewhat to his surprise, his companion, who had
been lying in the bow, holding both hands to his
head, and acting altogether as if he felt very badly,
straightened up and assisted him in propelling their
.pn +1
.bn 037.png
little craft. He recovered from his illness immediately,
when he found that he could win a reputation,
and at the same time run no risk of being called
upon to exhibit the skill and courage of which he
had so often boasted.
As they moved up the bayou, the ducks, which
now began to arrive in great numbers, being driven
from their far Northern homes by the approach
of winter, arose from the water in numerous flocks;
and after Bob had made two “pot shots” at them,
aiming at the birds as they sat on the water, and
missing both times, Lester mustered up courage
enough to try his deer gun on a flock which swam
out from a point a short distance in advance of them.
Taking a quick aim at the birds, he managed, by the
merest accident, to bag three of them—the ball
passing through the head of one of the ducks,
through the neck of another and through the body
of a third. But the fact was they sat so closely
together on the water that he could scarcely have
missed them if he had tried.
“Well, I declare!” exclaimed Bob. “Did you
shoot at their heads?”
Lester was so greatly astonished at the result of
his shot that he could not reply at once. With
.pn +1
.bn 038.png
mouth and eyes wide open, he gazed at the three
ducks lying dead upon the water, then at the remainder
of the flock, which were flying up the
bayou, and then he blew the smoke out of the
breech of his rifle and put in a fresh cartridge.
“O, you needn’t try to look so surprised,” exclaimed
Bob. “I have always been afraid of you,
and now I am satisfied that you can beat me. You
are the best shot among the boys in this settlement.”
“Well, you needn’t say so before folks,” replied
Lester, as soon as he had somewhat recovered himself.
“Yes, I will,” returned Bob. “I have heard
some of the fellows say that they didn’t believe you
ever killed any game in your life, and now I can tell
them differently. Can you do it again?”
“I am afraid not,” answered Lester, with an air
which said he could if he felt like it.
“I believe you can. The fellows around here
have no business with you.”
Lester was entirely satisfied with this. He had
won a reputation as a marksman, and he had won it
very easily. Many a reputation has been made in
the same way—by accident. With an assumption
of indifference which he was very far from feeling he
.pn +1
.bn 039.png
picked up the ducks as Bob paddled up to them, and
fearing that his friend might ask him to try another
shot, expressed a desire to be put on the island as
soon as possible.
“I have got my hand in now,” said he, “and I
wouldn’t turn my back on a grizzly.”
“There’s no bear on the island,” replied Bob,
“but I wish there was, for I would like to see you
shoot him.”
Although Lester was very proud of, and greatly
encouraged by the chance shot he had just made, he
could not echo his friend’s wish; and if he had had
the faintest suspicion that there was a bear within
half a mile of him, he could not have been hired to
remain in the bayou. He knew nothing whatever of
the habits of the animal, but Bob did, and his positive
assurance that bears never “used” on the island
now was the only thing that induced Lester to consent
to visit it. Still his heart beat much faster
than usual when they rounded the bend and came
within sight of the leaning sycamore behind which
Godfrey Evans had been partially concealed when
Dan first discovered him. In a few minutes more
Bob drove the bow of the canoe so deeply into the
.pn +1
.bn 040.png
mud that the current could not carry it away, and
the two boys jumped out on the bank.
“Don Gordon went over to Coldwater a year ago
and brought back a bearskin which he showed to
every body, with the story that he killed the bear
who wore it,” said Bob, who never grew tired of
saying hard things about the boy he hated. “I
don’t believe it and never did. He has told all
around the settlement that he was driven off this
island by a bear a few days ago, and that he set a
trap for him. I don’t believe that either; but we’ll
just take a look around to satisfy ourselves, and then
we’ll go back to the settlement and tell the truth
about the matter. It is my opinion that Don is
trying to make himself famous by telling big yarns;
and if we can prove it, it will make him take a back
seat, and it will put a feather in our caps besides.
Now there used to be a path somewhere about here
that led to the camp Godfrey Evans used to occupy
while the Yanks were in this country, and I think I
can find it.”
Having examined the cap on his rifle, Bob led the
way along the beach and Lester fell back, quite willing
that his friend should go on in advance; for
when he came to look into the dense, dark thicket
.pn +1
.bn 041.png
which covered the interior of the island, his courage
began to fail him.
Bob discovered the path in a very few minutes,
and, greatly to his surprise, saw that it was not overgrown
with reeds and briers, as he had expected
to find it, and as it was the last time he saw it.
On the contrary it was broad and well-beaten, for
Godfrey, while he was hiding there, had often passed
over it, and in order to facilitate his progress had
broken down the briers and cane on each side.
Bob’s face grew pale and his hands began to tremble.
He looked closely at the bushes and told himself
that they had been borne down by some heavy
animal; but he said nothing, for he was afraid that if
he opened his mouth his courage would all leave him,
and he did not want to show himself a coward in the
presence of so mighty a hunter as his friend Lester.
Believing that he had one at his back who would
stand by him, no matter how much trouble he might
get into, he grasped his rifle with a firmer hold,
drew back the hammer and advanced slowly along
the path.
“What made you cock your gun?” asked Lester,
in a startled whisper. “And why do you move so
slowly and cautiously?”
.pn +1
.bn 042.png
The answer almost froze the blood in Lester’s
veins.
“Do you see that?” replied Bob, in the same
startled whisper, pointing to a footprint in the mud
which looked as though it might have been made by
a bare-footed man. “Do you see these broken
bushes? Do you see that smaller track there?” he
added, a moment later, in accents of great alarm.
“We are in a dangerous neighborhood, the first thing
you know. There have been two bears along here—an
old one and a cub; and I shouldn’t wonder if
they were on the island at this very minute. Yes,
sir, they are, and there’s one of ’em now!”
As Bob said this, there was a sudden commotion
in the cane in front of them, accompanied by a
hoarse growl. Bob beat a hasty retreat on the
instant, jumping behind his companion before the
latter could prevent it, and Lester found himself
standing face to face with the first bear he had ever
seen outside of a menagerie.
.pn +1
.bn 043.png
.pb
.sp 4
.h2 id=ch03
CHAPTER III || LESTER SHOWS HIS COURAGE.
.sp 2
.dc 0.2 0.65
THE young hunters had advanced nearly to the
end of the path and were now standing within a
few feet of the clearing in which Godfrey had built
his lean-to, and which had been torn down in order
to make room for Don Gordon’s bear trap. There
were several large trees growing beside the path, and
Bob quickly sprang behind one of them, leaving
Lester standing alone within twenty yards of one of
the largest bears that had ever been seen in that part
of the country. Without an instant’s hesitation
Bob raised his rifle and pointed it at the breast of
the animal, which had reared itself upon its hind
legs, but the muzzle of the weapon waved about in
the most alarming manner, and he could not hold
it still to save his life. He found that there was a
vast difference between facing a bear when he had
twenty fierce dogs and as many armed horsemen to
back him, and confronting the same animal on foot
.pn +1
.bn 044.png
with but a single companion to depend on. After a
moment’s reflection he lowered his rifle, for he knew
that it would be folly to fire and wound the bear.
He thought the safest plan would be to rely upon the
superior skill and courage of his companion.
“Go for her!” said Bob, in a scarcely audible
whisper. “Shoot her in the eye if you can; if not,
take her under the fore leg.”
Bob kept his eyes fastened upon the bear, expecting
every instant to see her fall stone dead beneath
Lester’s deadly aim; but the animal stood erect,
closely regarding the intruders, and finally opening
her mouth and showing a frightful array of teeth;
she uttered another angry growl and moved slowly
along the path. Then Bob looked toward his companion,
wondering why he did not shoot. One
glance showed him the reason. The hunter who had
shot bears and panthers in Michigan, as ordinary
hunters shoot squirrels, was overcome with terror.
He stood in the middle of the path, holding fast to
the stock of his rifle, the muzzle of which he had
allowed to fall until it was buried in the mud. His
face was as pale as death, and his eyes, which were
fastened upon the savage beast before him, seemed
to have grown to twice their usual size.
.pn +1
.bn 045.png
“Shoot! shoot!” cried Bob, in great dismay.
“She’ll be right on top of us in a minute more.”
But Lester was past shooting or doing any thing
else. His fear had taken away all his strength, and
even the knowledge that his life was in danger could
not arouse him. Bob saw that something must be
done at once. With trembling hands he raised his
rifle to his shoulder, and drawing a hasty bead on the
bear’s breast, pulled the trigger. Without waiting
to see the effect of his shot he threw down his gun,
made one or two quick jumps backward and placing
his hands upon a small sapling ascended it with the
greatest agility.
A very few seconds sufficed to place him in the
topmost branches, and when he found that he could
go no higher he stopped and looked down to see
what was going on below. The bear was just
scrambling to her feet and the sight made Bob’s
heart bound with excitement and triumph, for then
he knew that his bullet had not been thrown away.
It had knocked the animal over; but the celerity of
her movements and the hoarse growls she uttered
proved that it had not reached a vital part, but had
only made a wound severe enough to drive her
almost frantic with rage. She dropped on all-fours
.pn +1
.bn 046.png
and came down the path at the top of her speed, and
there was Lester standing as motionless as ever.
Bob might have thought he was waiting for the
animal to approach within five feet of him so that
he could make that famous shot he had so often
talked about, had he not seen his friend’s pale face
and noted the position in which he held his rifle.
“Run! run!” gasped Bob, who fully expected to
see his companion pulled down and torn in pieces
before his eyes. “Take to a tree—a sapling, and
then you will be safe, for it is too small for the bear
to climb!”
These words, and the sight of the fearful peril to
which he was exposed, had the effect of arousing
Lester from his lethargy. He let his rifle fall, and
with even more agility than Bob had exhibited but a
few seconds before, laid hold of a sapling and
climbed it like a squirrel. He was none too quick
in his movements, for the bear, clumsy as she looked,
ran with surprising swiftness, and was at the foot of
the sapling before Lester was fairly out of reach.
Rising quickly on her hind feet she thrust one of
her paws up into the branches, and the loud scream
of terror Lester uttered frightened Bob so badly that
he came near tumbling out of his perch. As soon
.pn +1
.bn 047.png
as he had taken a firmer hold of the branches he
turned to look at his friend, and was greatly relieved
to see that he had nothing to fear.
Lester realized his peril now, and was full of life
and action. Seizing a branch above his head he drew
up his feet and so escaped the savage clutch which
the bear made at him. It was a narrow escape, and
Lester’s terror was so great that it was all he could
do to climb still higher among the branches, and put
himself in a place of safety. The slender sapling
swayed and rocked as he worked his way upward,
and Lester could not yet believe that the danger was
over.
“O, Bob! Bob! what shall I do?” he managed
to ask, as he clung to his frail support and looked
down at the bear’s ugly paw, which was now and then
thrust up among the branches, altogether too close to
his feet for comfort.
“Crawl up as high as you can and hold fast,” was
the reply. “The bear can’t hurt you now.”
“But how am I ever going to get home?” whined
Lester.
“I don’t know. We’ll talk about that by and by.
All we have to do now is to keep out of her reach.
.pn +1
.bn 048.png
Why didn’t you shoot her as you used to shoot those
bears up in Michigan?”
Before Lester had time to reply the attention of
himself and companion was called to two new actors
which suddenly appeared on the scene. One of them
they would have recognised, if they had not been too
badly frightened to recognise any thing. It was one
of Don Gordon’s hounds. He and his mate rushed
straight at the bear, and in a second more a most
terrific battle was in progress. The snarls and
growls of the combatants made Lester’s blood run
cold. A moment later Don’s voice was heard
encouraging the dogs.
“Hi! hi! there,” he shouted. “Take him, you
rascals. Pull him down!”
The sharp report of a rifle followed his words,
and the next thing Lester knew he was plunging
headlong through the branches. The sapling in
which he had taken refuge received a sudden and
violent shock, as if some mighty body had been
thrown against it, and Lester, whose extreme terror
had rendered him almost helpless, lost his hold and
fell to the ground. He caught frantically at the
frail twigs as he passed through them, but they did
not check his rapid descent, and he landed with a
.pn +1
.bn 049.png
concussion that at almost any other time would have
rendered him senseless. But he did not mind his
injuries now in the least. He jumped up the instant
he touched the ground, and looked about him with
the utmost consternation. There were three enraged
brutes near him which were making the leaves fly in
every direction as they rushed fiercely at one another,
but his frightened eyes cheated him into believing
that there were four times as many. Just as he
gained his feet he saw twelve bears knock twelve
dogs down with one stroke of their paws, and then
these twelve bears turned and made at him with
open mouths. He gave himself up for lost; but at
that instant a roar like that of a cannon sounded
close to his ear, and the twelve bears sank to the
ground all in a heap. So did Lester who could
endure the strain no longer. As he fell he saw
twelve Don Gordons rush up with heavy double-barrel
shot-guns in their hands, and each selecting
his bear poured another charge of buckshot into the
animal’s head. But there was only one bear there—at
least there was only one engaged in the fight—and
only one Don Gordon.
The last time we saw Don was on the day David
shipped his captured quails up the river on the
.pn +1
.bn 050.png
.pn +1
.bn 051.png
.pn +1
.bn 052.png
Emma Deane. He and his brother had labored
faithfully to help their humble friend fill his contract,
and when this work was done they were ready
to accompany their father on a trip to Coldwater,
which had long been talked of, and which the general
had good-naturedly postponed in order that Don
and Bert might assist David in making his enterprise
successful. They intended to be absent a week
or more. The general went on business, and Don
and Bert to visit a young friend whom they had often
entertained at their own house, and whose horses and
hounds were the envy of all the boys in the country
for miles around. They made the journey on horseback
and were accompanied by their hounds. Don
was armed with his trusty rifle, with which he hoped
to make great havoc among the deer and bears that
were so abundant in the county in which their friend
Bob Harrington lived, while Bert carried his light
fowling piece.
.if h
.il fn=p048.jpg w=600px
.ca
How Lester went Bear-Hunting.
.ca-
.if-
.if t
.sp 2
[Illustration: How Lester went Bear-Hunting.]
.sp 2
.if-
Bob Harrington, with whom Bert intended that
he and Don should take up their abode in case they
had gone on that hunting expedition which the
reader will remember was broken up by the arrival
of their cousins Clarence and Marshal Gordon, was
a young Nimrod—not such a one as Lester Brigham,
.pn +1
.bn 053.png
but one whose exploits had been witnessed by all the
men and boys in the settlement in which he lived.
His rifle was the truest, his hounds were the stanchest,
and his horse was the fleetest, and could take his
fences the easiest of any in the county, not even
excepting those of Mr. Harrington, Bob’s father,
who had been a hunter all his life. Bob never
boasted that he would stand still and allow a bear to
approach within five feet of him before he would
shoot him, for he knew that that would be a harder
test than his courage could endure; but he was not
afraid to walk up and finish any bear his dogs had
hold of, and nearly every hunter in the neighborhood
had seen him do it. The magnificent pair of
antlers on which Don and Bert were accustomed to
hang their gloves and riding-whips, and which were
fastened to the wall of their room over their writing
table, as well as the soft bearskin that served as a
rug by the side of their bed, were presents from
their friend Bob, and were only two out of a score
or more of such articles which he had sent to his
acquaintances all over the state. The animals that
once wore these antlers and skins had all been
brought low by Bob’s own unerring rifle.
With such a hunter for a companion during a
.pn +1
.bn 054.png
week’s shooting, the boys expected to learn something,
especially Don, who told himself that before
the visit was ended Master Bob would find that there
was at least one boy in Mississippi who was not
afraid to follow where he dared lead. And he
made his resolution good. While Bert, with Bob’s
setter for a companion, was roaming about over
Mr. Harrington’s extensive plantation, making double
shots on quail, woodcock and snipe, and Mrs.
Harrington and the general were seated in their
easy-chairs by the huge old-fashioned fire-place,
talking over their business matters, Don and Bob
were riding to the hounds, braving all sorts of
weather, and bringing in so many trophies of their
skill that the general and his host were astonished.
No dinner in that house was considered complete
without its wild turkey or saddle of venison; and
as for such game as quails and woodcock, the family
feasted on them until they were actually tired of
them.
Don was given ample opportunity to test his skill
with the rifle and exhibit his nerve in trying situations,
and he finally became so accustomed to walking
up and shooting a bear when the dogs had him
“stretched” that he thought no more of it than he
.pn +1
.bn 055.png
did of bringing a squirrel out of the top of a hickory
or stopping a woodcock on the wing. When
the visit was ended and he returned to his home,
he had more than one bearskin strapped behind his
saddle, and, better than that, he carried with him a
confidence in his own powers which ultimately
proved to be the salvation of one who, had their
situations been reversed, would have deserted him in
the most cowardly manner.
The boys reached home one night after dark (it
was the night of the same day on which David
Evans received the money for his quails), and after
relating to their mother and sisters as much of the
week’s history as they could crowd into two hours’
conversation, they went up stairs and tumbled into
bed. They were tired, of course, but still they had
energy enough left to plan a campaign for the next
day.
“We mustn’t forget our bear trap on the island,”
said Bert, as he settled himself snugly between the
sheets.
“That’s so,” answered Don. “We’ll go up
there the first thing in the morning. If a bear is
going to get into that trap at all, he has had plenty
of time to do it. Whoever awakes first after daylight
.pn +1
.bn 056.png
must arouse the other. I say, Bert! if I had
had as much experience a few weeks ago as I have
now, we couldn’t have been driven off the island
until we had found out what it was that uttered those
horrid growls. I feel ashamed of myself when I
think it was nobody but Godfrey Evans.”
“But we didn’t know it at the time,” said Bert.
“Of course not. If we had we should have made
him show himself. Just let him try that trick
again if he dares.”
As it happened neither one of the boys awoke at
daylight. They were locked in a dreamless slumber
until they were aroused by the ringing of the
breakfast-bell. They dressed themselves with all
haste, and with many exclamations of regret, hurried
down stairs. They were not so impatient but
that they could take time to eat a hearty meal; but
still they finished their breakfast before the rest of
the family did, and asking to be excused ran off to
get ready for their trip to the island. Don went up
stairs after the guns and ammunition (he brought
down his father’s heavy double-barrel for Bert’s
use), and his brother went to the shop after the oars
belonging to the canoe, and to call the two hounds
which had accompanied them on their former expedition
.pn +1
.bn 057.png
up the bayou. As they did not intend to
be absent more than three or four hours no lunch
was provided for them.
The brothers met again at the jetty below the
summer-house, where they found the canoe riding
safely at its moorings. She was quickly loaded and
pushed from the shore, and after an hour’s easy rowing
the young hunters found themselves within sight
of Bruin’s Island. As they approached it, Bert,
who was steering, began to believe that if Godfrey
Evans had not returned and taken up his abode in
his old quarters, they would certainly find somebody
or something else there, for the hounds, which up to
this moment had been curled up in the bow, now
arose to their feet, and after looking all about as if
taking their bearings, turned their noses toward the
island and eagerly snuffed the air. Did they remember
their former experience there, or did the
breeze, which was blowing straight down the bayou,
bring some taint to their sensitive nostrils? Bert,
who closely watched their movements, could not tell
until he saw the long hair on the back of Carlo’s
neck begin to stand erect. Then the question was
answered.
.pn +1
.bn 058.png
.pb
.sp 4
.h2 id=ch04
CHAPTER IV || DON SHOWS HIS.
.sp 2
.dc 0.3 0.65
“DON the hounds say there’s something on the
island,” said Bert.
Don ceased rowing, faced about and looked at his
favorites, whose actions he had learned to read like
a book. They were beginning to be very uneasy.
“Yes, sir,” said Don, his countenance brightening,
and his eye lighting up with excitement,
“there’s something there. I hope it is a bear, for
if it should turn out to be nobody but Godfrey
Evans I should be provoked. You needn’t be
afraid,” he added, with a hasty glance at his brother’s
sober face. “If it is a bear he can’t take us unawares
while the dogs are with us. They’ll find him
and show us where he is.”
“I couldn’t shoot him if I should see him,” said
Bert, drawing a long breath. “You know that
while we were over on Coldwater all my shooting
.pn +1
.bn 059.png
was done on small game. I never saw a wild bear
in my life.”
“You needn’t shoot him. In fact, I’d rather you
wouldn’t try; for if you were in the least excited
you might shoot the dogs, and I wouldn’t have them
hurt for all the bears in Mississippi. You know that
all those hunters in Africa have after-riders—men
who keep close behind them, and hand them a second
gun if they need it. You can do the same by me.
If I fail to make a dead shot with my rifle, be ready
to give me your double barrel. There are buckshot
enough in it to kill any bear I ever saw. Keep
close at my heels, and the bear shan’t hurt you, unless
he kills or disables me first,” added Don, who
took pride in the fact that he was able to act as protector
to his weak and timid brother.
“But I don’t want him to hurt you, either,” said
Bert.
“I don’t intend that he shall. I am not as much
afraid of those fellows as I was a few weeks ago, for
I have learned that a quick eye and steady hand are
all that are needed to bring one safely through.”
Don laid out all his strength on the oars again,
and the canoe rapidly approached the island; but
before it had gone many yards the report of a rifle
.pn +1
.bn 060.png
rang out on the air, being followed a moment later
by a rustling in the cane which the boys knew was
not made by the breeze, and then by loud and
rapidly-spoken words which the young hunters could
not understand. The words were uttered by Bob
Owens, who was calling upon his companion to save
himself by flight. Then there was a loud shout of
terror, followed by more rustling in the cane, and by
repeated cries from some one who was evidently in
great distress or threatened by some terrible danger.
The hounds bayed loudly in response, Bert’s cheek
blanched, and Don rested on his oars and looked
first at the island and then at his brother in great
astonishment. His inactivity, however, lasted but
for a moment. The voices and cries of distress continued
to come from the island, and Don, with the
remark that there was some one there who was in
need of assistance, bent to his oars with redoubled
energy.
The canoe moved swiftly along the shore of the
island until it reached a point opposite the path leading
to the little clearing in which the bear trap was
located, and then Bert turned it toward the shore, and
Don with a few strong pulls drove the bow deep into
the mud. The hounds, hardly waiting for the boat to
.pn +1
.bn 061.png
become stationary, sprang ashore and were out of
sight in an instant. Don, shouting directions to his
favorites, followed as fast as he was able, and Bert,
with his double barrel on his shoulder, kept close to
his brother’s side, wondering all the while at the
courage he exhibited in doing so. But one never
knows how much nerve he has until he is put to the
test. Perhaps that pale, quiet friend of yours, who
looks as though he had scarcely strength enough to
lift his heavy satchel full of books, and who always
turns and walks meekly away whenever the great,
hulking bully of the school says a harsh word to
him, would, if placed in a situation of extreme danger,
stand his ground and show the greatest coolness
and courage, while that same bully would run for
his life.
The young hunters ran swiftly along the path,
but before they had made many steps they heard a
great crashing in the cane, accompanied by a chorus
of snarls and growls that were enough to frighten
almost any one. But they did not frighten Don
now. He had heard such sounds so often of late
that they did not affect his nerves any more than the
baying of his own hounds would have done. He
ran on faster than ever, and a few more steps brought
.pn +1
.bn 062.png
him around an abrupt bend in the path. There he
stopped, greatly astonished at what he saw—a battle
between his hounds and a bear. It was not the battle
that astonished him, but the size of the animal
with which his favorites were contending. It was
the largest he had ever seen in all his hunting. It
was almost as large as the one which had slaughtered
so many dogs in that same canebrake a few years
before. She was standing on her hind feet, striking
viciously at the dogs, which, altogether too wise to
close with so huge an antagonist, were bounding
about her, biting her first in one place and then in
another, and keeping her spinning around like a top.
Don took in the situation at a glance, and then his
rifle slowly and steadily arose to his shoulder, the
sight covering the bear’s neck. He fired at the
proper moment and the animal fell to the ground, being
assisted in her fall by the hounds, which, encouraged
by the presence of their master, seized her at the
same instant and pulled her with great violence
against the nearest sapling. The result was not a
little bewildering to Don and his brother. A loud
cry of alarm sounded among the branches over their
heads, and they looked up just in time to see some
heavy body descending through the air. It struck
.pn +1
.bn 063.png
the ground, from which it seemed to bound like a
ball, and when it came to an upright position, as it
did a moment later, Don saw that it was Lester
Brigham, and not a bear, as he had at first supposed.
His astonishment was so great that for a moment he
could neither move nor speak; but Bert could and
did, for he saw that the boy was in danger.
“Look out, Lester! Run for your life!” he
cried.
Aroused by the exclamation, Don turned his eyes
from Lester to the bear, and saw that the animal had
regained her feet, and having knocked down one of
the hounds was rushing upon Lester with open
mouth. Don was frightened now, for he believed
that something dreadful was about to happen; but
his nerve did not fail him nor did he hesitate an instant.
Dropping his empty rifle, and seizing the
double barrel which Bert promptly handed him, already
cocked, he drew the weapon to his shoulder,
and by a hasty snap-shot saved Lester’s life. The
bear and her intended victim both dropped at the
report, the one mortally wounded and the other in a
dead faint. So closely together did they fall that
the bear, in her death struggle, tore Lester’s clothing
with her claws. Bert at once dashed forward
.pn +1
.bn 064.png
to drag him out of danger, while Don ended the battle
by firing another charge of buckshot into the
animal’s head. Lester could now say that he had
been within five feet of a bear, and tell nothing but
the truth.
“Well, this beats anything I ever heard of,” said
Don, as soon as he had made sure that the bear was
dead. “How do you suppose Lester got here? I
didn’t see any boat on the beach, did you?”
“No,” answered Bert; “I was too badly frightened
to see anything.”
“But there’s a boat there all the same,” said a
voice.
Don and Bert looked wonderingly at each other.
“Who’s that?” demanded the latter, after a moment’s
hesitation.
“Bob Owens!”
The rustling among the branches which accompanied
these words told the brothers where to look to
find the speaker. They walked toward the foot of a
neighboring sapling, and, looking upward, saw Bob
Owens coming down. His pale face and trembling
hands showed that he, as well as Lester, had sustained
something of a fright.
.pn +1
.bn 065.png
“Why, Bob, what in the world brought you
here?” exclaimed Bert.
“I came up to find the bear that drove you and
Don off the island a few days ago,” replied Bob.
“I found her, too,” he added, suddenly pausing in
his descent as an angry growl fell upon his ear. It
was uttered by one of the hounds, which recognised
in Bob the robber who had been compelled to take
refuge on the roof of the negro cabin. He looked
up at the boy and showed him the teeth he had come
so near using on him that night.
“Bose, behave yourself!” exclaimed Don, sharply.
“Come down, Bob, and tell us all about it.”
Before Bob could comply, a wild, shrill cry,
which, during her life, would have excited the old
bear almost to frenzy, sounded from the direction of
the clearing, which was a few rods deeper in the
cane. The boys all knew what it was. Bob uttered
an exclamation of astonishment, and began to mount
among the branches of the sapling again, while Bert
put fresh cartridges into his old double-barrel, and
Don ran back after his rifle, which he began to reload
with all haste. While he was thus engaged his
eye fell upon Lester’s prostrate form.
.pn +1
.bn 066.png
“I say, Bob!” he exclaimed, “you had better
come down and see to your friend here.”
“What’s the matter with him?” asked Bob, from
his perch.
“He has fainted. He was frightened by the
bear, and perhaps injured by his fall from the tree.
I don’t blame him for being frightened. I don’t
suppose he ever saw a bear before in his life.”
“Ha!” exclaimed Bob, “he says he has shot
more of them than you ever saw.”
Don did not believe that Lester told the truth
when he said this; but he could not stop to argue
the point just then, for his mind was too fully occupied
with thoughts of what was yet to come. He
patched the ball very carefully, and, as he drew the
ramrod to drive it home, he said:
“Come down here, and take care of him, Bob.
Throw some water in his face, and I think he will
come out all right. You will find a cup in our boat.”
“I guess not,” replied Bob. “I’ve no business
down there. Don’t you know that that was the cry
of a cub we heard just now?”
“Of course I do. But what of it?”
“Don’t you know that if the old one is anywhere
around you are in danger down there?”
.pn +1
.bn 067.png
“I don’t think the old one will trouble us. She’s
dead.”
“But suppose the father of the family should be
in the neighborhood? Take to a tree, quick!” exclaimed
Bob, as the cub once more set up his shrill
cry. “Bring your rifle up with you, and if the
other old one comes around you can shoot him easy
enough.”
“That’s not my way of doing business,” replied
Don, somewhat surprised at the proposition. “Why,
Bob, I thought you had hunted bears all your life.”
“So I have; but I always had a good horse under
me, and plenty of dogs to back me up. You’ll
never again catch me on foot around where one of
these animals is. I’ve had enough of it to-day.”
The loud baying of the hounds, which had dashed
down the path as soon as the cry of the cub fell upon
their ears, now echoed through the woods, and Don
having by this time loaded his rifle, ran toward the
clearing, leaving Bob to help his friend Lester, or
not, just as he pleased. Bert, in his capacity of
gun-bearer, kept close behind his brother as he ran.
A few rapid steps brought the hunters to the edge
of the clearing, and there they stopped to reconnoitre
the ground before going farther. They did not
.pn +1
.bn 068.png
want to run into the clutches of another old bear if
they could help it. The hounds were standing on
their hind legs with their fore feet resting against
the body of a small tree, looking up into the branches
and baying loudly. Don looked, too, and saw a
young bear about the size of a Newfoundland dog
perched in the fork.
“O, Bert,” exclaimed Don, “why didn’t we
think to bring an axe with us? It wouldn’t be any
trouble at all to cut the tree down and take that fellow
alive.”
Before Bert could say anything in reply, the
hounds suddenly left the tree, and dashing across
the clearing, threw themselves against the trap, toward
which Don had not before thought to look, and
thrusting their noses between the logs, made desperate
efforts to reach something on the inside; while
whatever it was on the inside ran about and squalled
as if greatly alarmed. Then Don saw that the top
of the trap was down. He ran quickly to it and
looking between the logs saw crouching in the furthermost
corner the mate to the young bear in the
tree. The huge animal he had shot in the path was
the mother of the two cubs.
“We’ve got two of them,” he exclaimed in great
.pn +1
.bn 069.png
glee. “Are we not in luck? Don’t you remember
father told us that if we could trap a cub Silas Jones
would give us twenty dollars for him? We’ll have
forty dollars to give David. We don’t need the
money and he does.”
“Of course he does,” replied Bert. “We’ll leave
the dogs here and go home and get help.”
“That’s the idea. We shall need plenty of it,
too, for that bear is pretty heavy, and it will take a
strong force to drag her to the bayou and put her
into the boat. Here, boys,” he added, calling to
his dogs and placing his hand on the tree in which
the young bear had taken refuge, “keep your eyes
on him and don’t let him come down.”
The hounds understood him and seemed quite willing
to remain and watch the game. They had
passed many a night in the woods guarding a coon
tree, and we know how faithfully they and the rest
of Don’s pack watched Lester and Bob while they
were on the top of the negro cabin. All they had
to do was to “keep their eyes” on the bear in the
tree; the one in the trap could not possibly escape.
Don now shouldered his rifle and retraced his
steps along the path, followed by his faithful gun-bearer.
When they reached the scene of the fight
.pn +1
.bn 070.png
they found Lester Brigham sitting up with his back
supported against a tree and Bob Owens kneeling
beside him in the act of handing him a cup of water.
After the brothers ran toward the clearing Bob
waited and listened, expecting every instant to hear
the sounds of another desperate struggle; but as
nothing but the baying of the hounds came to his
ears, he made up his mind that there were no more
old bears about, and finally mustered up courage
enough to go to the assistance of his companion as
Don had suggested. He made his way to the ground
and stopping long enough to take a good look at the
huge animal which had been the cause of so much
alarm to him, he ran up the path to see how Lester
was getting on. The latter was beginning to show
some signs of returning animation, and the cup of
water that Bob dashed into his face brought all his
faculties back to him. He opened his eyes and
seemed instantly to recall all the exciting incidents
that had so recently occurred. He jumped to his
feet with a cry of alarm, but was so weak that if Bob
had not caught him in his arms he would have fallen
to the ground. Bob propped him up against a tree
and after assuring him that the bear was dead, hurried
off to the bayou after another cup of water.
.pn +1
.bn 071.png
“How do you feel, Lester?” asked Don, with
some anxiety.
“All done up,” was the scarcely audible reply.
“I feel as if every bone in my body was broken.
I’ll tell you what it is: if I had been in practice,
as I was when I took my last hunt in Michigan, you
wouldn’t have had a chance to shoot that bear. I’ve
killed dozens of them; but this one came upon me
so suddenly that I couldn’t do anything.”
“I guess you are all right,” thought Don, with
a sly glance at his brother. “As long as a boy can
tell falsehoods there’s not much the matter with
him.” Then aloud he asked: “Can we be of any
assistance to you?”
“O, no,” replied Lester, who wanted nothing to
do with the boys he had wronged. “I shall be able
to walk in a few minutes and Bob will take care of
me.”
“Very well; then we will go home. We must
have help to get this old bear into a boat, and besides
there are two cubs back there in the clearing
that we want to capture alive. They are worth
twenty dollars apiece, and the money belongs to
Dave Evans.”
“Dave Evans!” sneered Lester, as soon as the
.pn +1
.bn 072.png
brothers were out of sight in the cane. “There’s
nobody in this settlement but Dave Evans.”
“Twenty dollars apiece,” said Bob, pulling off
his hat and dashing it spitefully upon the ground.
“That makes forty dollars, which added to a hundred
and sixty makes two hundred dollars. Wouldn’t
I have a breech-loader if I had that amount of money
in my pocket? But I haven’t got a cent, and here’s
this miserable fellow rich already. I wish I dared
go back there and shoot those cubs. I would if the
hounds were not there. I’d shoot the dogs, too, if
I thought Don wouldn’t suspect me.”
Meanwhile Don was laying out all his strength on
the oars, and the canoe was moving rapidly down
the bayou. When it reached the lake, and was passing
Godfrey’s cabin, Don and his brother, who had
not seen the boy trapper since their return, and consequently
knew nothing of his good fortune, looked
all around for him, intending, if they saw him, to
tell him that he had some valuable property up in
the woods which was waiting to be secured. “I
don’t see any thing of him,” said Bert, “and we are
in too great a hurry to stop and hunt him up.”
“Never mind,” said Don. “He’ll be around as
soon as he finds out that we are at home. Now,
.pn +1
.bn 073.png
Bert, if you will make the canoe fast and put our
guns in the sail-boat, and get her all ready for the
start, I’ll run up to the house and ask father if he
will let a couple of the darkies go with us after those
bears. We don’t want any lunch, do we?”
No, Bert didn’t want any. There was too much
sport in prospect, and he couldn’t eat a mouthful
until it was all over.
When the canoe reached the wharf Don sprang
out, and Bert was preparing to make her fast at her
usual moorings, when they heard a loud shout, and
looking toward the road saw David Evans running
along the beach. “I’ll wait until I hear how he
succeeded with his quails,” said Don.
“And won’t he be surprised when he learns that
he will have forty dollars more in his pocket to-night,”
said Bert. “David ought to be very happy
and contented now, for he is getting on nicely.”
“Well, he doesn’t act to me like a very happy
boy this morning,” said Don, in a low tone, as David
came nearer. “There’s something the matter with
him. He doesn’t usually hang his head that way.”
Bert, having made the canoe fast to the tree,
straightened up, and when he had taken a good look
at David, told himself that his brother was right.
.pn +1
.bn 074.png
There was something the matter with him. While
he was wondering what new misfortune had fallen to
the lot of the boy trapper, Don called out:
“We’ve just been talking about you, Dave. How
goes the battle?”
David tried to answer, but could not utter a word.
Don, believing that it was because he was out of
breath after his rapid run, continued:
“You’ve had plenty of time to hear from those
quails, and I suppose you’ve got a pocketful of
money now, haven’t you?”
David had by this time approached so close to the
brothers that they could see that his face was very
pale, and that his eyes were red and swollen with
weeping. He stepped upon the shore end of the
jetty, and throwing himself down upon it, covered
his face with his hands and rocked back and forth,
sobbing violently. Don and his brother looked at
each other in great surprise, and at length the former
managed to ask: “What’s the matter?”
“O, Don!” cried David.
“Well, I can’t make any thing of that reply,”
exclaimed the boy. “Tell me what’s the matter
with you. Hasn’t your money come?”
“O, yes, it came,” sobbed David.
.pn +1
.bn 075.png
These words, and the tone in which they were
spoken, let Don into the secret of his friend’s trouble.
Impatient to know the worst at once, he walked
up and caught David by the arm. “Out with it,”
said he. “Where’s your money now?”
“I worked so hard for it,” cried David, “and
mother needed it so much; but now it’s gone—all
gone. I’ve lost every red cent of it!”
Bert drew a long breath, and seated himself in
the canoe with an air which said that this last misfortune
was altogether too much for him to stand up
under, while Don pushed back his sleeves, placed his
hands on his hips, and looked down at the weeping
boy.
.pn +1
.bn 076.png
.pb
.sp 4
.h2 id=ch05
CHAPTER V || GODFREY VISITS THE CABIN.
.sp 2
.dc 0.35 0.65
“MORE’N a hundred and sixty-four dollars, an’
it made a wad as big as that thar!” said Dan
Evans, looking at his wrist as he hurried through
the woods. He opened his eyes and fairly gasped
for breath as he thought of it. His ideas of money,
as we know, were not very clear, and he was of the
opinion that a roll of greenbacks as large as one
could conveniently grasp in his hand, must be
utterly inexhaustible. “An’ that thar leetle Dave
of our’n done made ’em all by trappin’ quails!
That’s what I’m goin’ to be now—a trapper!
Then won’t I have good clothes, an’ a circus-hoss,
an’ a sail-boat, an’ a fish-pole, an’ one of
them guns that break in two in the middle? How
extonished the folks will be when they see me
goin’ to church with a straw hat and shiny boots
on!”
This was the way Dan talked to himself, while
.pn +1
.bn 077.png
he was running through the woods toward his
father’s camp, after his interview with the planter,
which we have recorded in the first chapter. His
astonishment was almost unbounded. How glad he
was, now that he had followed his father’s instructions,
and let David’s traps alone; and how amazed
and delighted Godfrey would be when he heard the
news!
Dan knew just where to go to find his father.
He was still occupying his old camp—the one he
made after Don Gordon’s hounds drove him off the
island—and thither Dan hurried with all the speed
he could command. But still he could not go half
fast enough to suit him. It seemed to him that the
astounding information he had just received would
work some dreadful injury to him if he did not
communicate it to his father at once. The nearer
he approached the camp the faster he ran; and
when, at last, he burst into the presence of his
father, who was stretched out beside a blazing fire,
enjoying a pipeful of the store-tobacco which Dan
had purchased for him a few days before, he was
so nearly exhausted that he could scarcely speak;
but, after a good many questions, and a few threats,
from the impatient Godfrey, he managed to repeat
.pn +1
.bn 078.png
the substance of his conversation with the planter.
His father listened with mouth and eyes wide open,
and when, at last, he began to comprehend the matter,
he jumped to his feet, and danced about like
one demented.
“Whoop!” yelled Godfrey, so loudly that the
woods rang again. “More’n a hundred an’ sixty
dollars! No more toilin’, an’ workin’, an’ slavin’
for me. My fort’n’s made.”
“Your’n!” repeated Dan.
“Mine an’ your’n, Dannie,” replied Godfrey,
seizing his son’s hand, and giving it a grip and a
shake that made Dan writhe with pain. “Yer a
good boy, Dannie. Ye hain’t like that thar mean,
sneakin’ Dave, who goes off an’ ’arns a pocketful of
greenbacks, and gives ’em all to his mam, and none
to his pap, but ye’ve stuck by me, an’ been a dootiful
son, and now ye’ll see what I’ll do by ye!”
“What be ye goin’ to do, pap?” asked Dan.
“I’m goin’ to have them thar greenbacks afore
I sleep this night,” was Godfrey’s decided reply.
“The money’s mine. It don’t b’long to Dave, not
by no means, ’kase he’s got no rights in law. I’m
his pap, an’ kin take his ’arnin’s till he’s twenty-one
years old, an’ nobody can’t say nothing to me.”
.pn +1
.bn 079.png
“If it hadn’t been for me ye wouldn’t a knowed
nothing ’bout this money, pap,” said Dan, “an’ I
don’t want ye to forgit it.”
“I won’t, Dannie,” said Godfrey, giving his
son’s hand another cordial shake.
“Ye done said ye’d give me half, I reckon,
didn’t ye, pap?”
“I did; an’ what I say I allers stand to. Yer
circus-hoss, an’ yer fish-pole what ye kin take all in
pieces an’ carry under yer arm, an’ yer shiny boots,
an’ all them other nice things ye have been wantin’
so long, are comin’ to ye now. When ye get ’em
I’d jest like to see you alongside of them pale-faced
youngsters up to the general’s. Yer a heap smarter
an’ better lookin’ nor they be, Dannie. You hear
me?”
Dan grinned, and Godfrey having lost all the
tobacco out of his pipe while he was dancing about,
filled up again, and sat down for a fresh smoke.
His excitement had not in the least abated, and
neither had Dan’s. They built air-castles and laid
plans for the future, until the afternoon began to
draw to a close, and then Godfrey announced that it
was time to prepare for business. He covered up
the fire, threw on his powder-horn and bullet-pouch,
.pn +1
.bn 080.png
and, taking his long rifle on his shoulder, led the
way, through the woods, toward his cabin, closely
followed by Dan, whose bright dreams grew still
brighter as the time for their fulfilment drew nearer.
As they approached the cabin they heard the
sound of an axe, and, when they came near enough
to peer through the bushes, they saw David in the
yard chopping wood. When his task was finished,
he put the axe away, and began carrying the wood
into the cabin, and, while he worked, he whistled
merrily. He was happy, as he had reason to be.
When the last stick of wood had been deposited by
the side of the fire-place, and David had walked two
or three times around the cabin, and looked sharply
in every direction, to make sure that Dan was not
loitering about, ready to play his old game of eavesdropping,
the Boy Trapper went in, and closed and
fastened the door.
“Now, mother,” said he, “where shall we hide
these greenbacks? A hound on a deer’s trail is not
sharper than Dan is when he scents money; and if
he finds out that I have received my pay he will
want me to divide with him, and if I don’t do it,
he’ll make such a fuss that we can’t stay in the
.pn +1
.bn 081.png
house with him. We have nothing to fear from
father now.”
“We must take good care to keep our secret from
Daniel’s knowledge,” said Mrs. Evans. “I don’t
see how he is going to find it out. I shan’t tell him,
and neither will you.”
“Of course not; but there were three or four men
in the store when Mr. Jones paid me the money,”
said David, taking down a rusty tin box from the
rough mantel over the fire-place. “I don’t know
who they were, for I was too excited to know anybody.
If they don’t speak of it, no one will know
that I have got the money; but I can’t afford to run
any risks. I must hide it somewhere until Don
comes back, and then I’ll give it to him to keep for
me. It will be safe in his hands. Now, mother,
let’s see if it is all here. I didn’t count it when
Silas gave it to me.”
David and his mother had spent the most of the
afternoon in talking over their plans and calculating
how long, with the economy they intended to practice,
their little fortune would suffice to supply them
with clothing and provisions. It was a large sum
in David’s eyes, but Mrs. Evans knew that it would
.pn +1
.bn 082.png
not last for ever, and she had labored hard to impress
this fact upon the boy’s mind.
David turned the contents of the box into his
mother’s lap, and as they were not accustomed to
the handling of money, it took them both nearly a
quarter of an hour to straighten out the bills and
put the various denominations together, so that they
could be easily counted. They were very much
interested in their work and little dreamed that during
the most of the time they were thus engaged
two faces, pale with excitement, were pressed close
against one of the cracks in the rear wall of the
cabin, and two pairs of eager eyes were watching
their every movement.
“One hundred and sixty-four dollars and fifty
cents,” said David, as he rolled up the money, replaced
it in the tin box and put the cover on it. “It
is all here, and now what are we going to do with it
until Don comes home? Think up a good place to
hide it, mother.”
At this moment one of the two eager pairs of eyes
was suddenly withdrawn from the crack between
the logs, a tall, gaunt figure moved with quick and
noiseless footsteps around the end of the cabin and
a strong hand was laid upon the latch. David and
.pn +1
.bn 083.png
his mother started up in great alarm, and the boy,
with a presentiment that his money was in danger,
hastily slipped it under the foot of the “shake
down” in which he slept. Again the door was tried
and a familiar voice exclaimed:
“Shettin’ me outen my own house, be ye? What
be ye doin’ it fur, I axes ye?”
“It’s father,” whispered David with a sinking at
his heart; and while his mother was advancing to
undo the fastenings of the door he quickly snatched
up his box again, and raising one of the stones which
formed the hearth, he put the box under it and stood
upon it to force the stone back to its place.
The fastenings being undone the door was thrown
open and the master of the house, pale and haggard,
stalked into the room. His wife had seen him look
so once before, and that was when he was hiding
from the Union soldiers.
“Why, Godfrey!” exclaimed Mrs. Evans. “I
am so glad you have come back.”
“Glad, be ye?” cried her husband, turning
fiercely upon her and shaking off the hand she had
laid upon his arm. “I reckon ye be. Here’s me
been a layin’ out all these cold nights, a freezin’ and
a starvin’, an’ ye never sent me a blanket to kiver
.pn +1
.bn 084.png
myself up with, nor a bite of grub to eat. Glad, be
ye? Sich talk don’t go down, ole woman!”
“Why, father, there’s only one blanket in the
house,” said Mrs. Evans.
“Then why didn’t ye send me no grub?” demanded
Godfrey, angrily.
“I didn’t know where to find you,” was the meek
reply.
“Wal, ye could a hunted me up, I reckon, if ye
had wanted to see me very bad. But if I am a layin’
out, I’m boss here yet. This is my house, an’ so’s
every thing what’s into it, an’ I don’t want none on
ye to forgit it.”
“We know it is all yours, father,” said Mrs.
Evans. “You may have the blanket if you want it.
I can get along without it.”
“I don’t want it, an’ dog-gone my buttons I won’t
have it,” shouted Godfrey, throwing his arms wildly
about his head. “I’m rich enough to buy more an’
better. Dave, hand out them hundred an’ sixty
dollars, an’ be quick about it. You hear me?”
A deep silence followed this demand. Neither
David nor his mother could make any reply to it,
and while Godfrey was waiting for them to say something,
he shook all over as if he had been seized
.pn +1
.bn 085.png
with the ague. His excitement and impatience were
so great that he could not hold himself still.
“Dave, does ye hear yer pap a speakin’ to ye?”
Godfrey almost yelled. “Whar’s them thar greenbacks,
I axes ye? Hand ’em out here quicker’n a
streak of chain lightnin’.”
“O, Godfrey!” exclaimed Mrs. Evans, recovering
her power of speech by a great effort, “you surely
would not rob David of the money that he has
worked so hard for! It is his, for he earned it.
You have no claim upon it, for you didn’t help
him.”
“Ole woman!” cried Godfrey, “Dave haint
twenty-one year ole yit. Them thar greenbacks is
in this house, kase I seed ’em not more’n a minute
ago, an’ I’ll have ’em if I have to bust up the hul
consarn. Dave, if ye don’t want to see me turn myself
loose hand ’em out here.”
“I’ll die first,” was the boy’s firm reply. “If
you want any money go to work and earn some, as
I did. That’s the honest way.”
“Honest!” yelled Godfrey, seizing the “shake
down” and lifting it from the floor. “Whoop! that
there money is mine, kase yer my son an’ I’m yer
pap. I’m boss here, too, an’ that gives me the right
.pn +1
.bn 086.png
to handle every cent what comes into the house. If
ye won’t hand ’em out peaceable, I’ll look for ’em
myself; and ye won’t find much furnitur in the
shantee arter I get through lookin’, nuther. You
hear me?”
“Don’t waste no time with them bed-clothes,
pap,” cried a voice from the rear of the cabin.
“Shove Dave off’n that rock an’ hist it up. Then
ye’ll find ’em, kase I seed him put ’em thar!”
Up to this time David had stood motionless on
the hearth-stone, revolving in his mind a thousand
wild schemes for saving his money. He closely
watched every move his father made, hoping that the
latter would go to the other end of the cabin and give
him an opportunity to raise the stone, seize the box,
and rush out into the darkness; but Godfrey, who
probably suspected some such design on David’s part,
was careful to keep between him and the door. There
was but one hope to which the boy could cling, and
that was that his father might not find the money.
The box had been pressed into the soft earth, and
now David noticed, with no little satisfaction, that
the heavy stone was as firmly and evenly settled in
its place as it was before he raised it. It is possible
that Godfrey might have overlooked this hiding-place
.pn +1
.bn 087.png
in his frantic search, had it not been for the
fact that he had a sharp-eyed ally close at hand.
Dan still kept his face pressed close against the
crack in the rear wall of the cabin, and he saw what
David did with his money. He did not want to say
anything about it, however, for he feared that if he
did, he would never be permitted to enter the cabin
again. He did not want to become a hermit, as his
father was. It was a part of his plans to live at
home and enjoy morning gallops on his circus horse,
and evening trips about the lake in his fine sail-boat.
All the nice things he intended to purchase would
be useless to him if he were compelled to live in the
woods, as Godfrey did. He meant to conduct himself
in such a manner that his mother and David
would not suspect that he was in any way concerned
in the robbery; but when he saw that his father was
looking in the wrong place for the money, his excitement
and impatience got the better of him, and
he shouted out his advice before he knew it.
“Shove Dave off’n that thar rock an’ hist it up,”
said he. “Then ye’ll find ’em, kase I seed him put
’em thar!”
Godfrey was prompt to act upon the suggestion,
and David was as prompt to take the warning.
.pn +1
.bn 088.png
With a wild cry of alarm the boy sprang off the
rock, and stooping quickly made a frantic effort to
secure his treasure; but the stone was firmly imbedded
in its place, and his fingers seemed to have
lost all their strength. His first attempt failed, and
before he could make a second his father seized him
by the collar, and with a quick, strong jerk sent
him backward almost to the other end of the cabin.
Then fiercely throwing off his wife, who tried to seize
him by the arm, Godfrey pulled up the stone, and,
with a loud shout of triumph, seized the box, sprang
through the door, and disappeared. He ran around
the end of the cabin, where he was joined by Dan,
and the two fled as if all the officers of the law in
the county were close at their heels. Like specters
they glided through the woods, never once pausing
or saying a word to each other, until they reached
the camp. Then they breathed easier.
Godfrey at once proceeded to rake over the coals
and mend the fire, and Dan noticed that his hands
trembled violently. “Wal, pap, we done it, didn’t
we?” said the boy, who was the first to speak.
“Yes, sar, we did; and now I’ll take a smoke.”
While Godfrey was filling and lighting his pipe,
Dan threw himself on the ground beside the fire
.pn +1
.bn 089.png
and looked steadily into the flames, evidently very
much occupied with his own thoughts. He was not
as well pleased with the result of their expedition as
he had expected to be. He could not imagine how
he was going to enjoy his money, now that he had
got it. In spite of his firm determination to keep
in the back-ground, and let his father do all the
work and bear all the blame, he had exposed himself,
and now his mother and David knew that he had
had as much to do with the robbery as Godfrey
himself. Dan was sorry for that, and would have
given almost anything to be able to undo the mischief
he had done. But, after all, he was the possessor
of a larger pile of greenbacks than he had
ever expected to own, and in that he found a few
grains of consolation.
“Pap,” said he, suddenly, “we haint seed that
thar money yet, and my eyes is just achin’ for a
look at it!”
Without saying a word, Godfrey drew the box
from his pocket, and Dan arose and took a seat by
his side. Godfrey took off the cover, and exposed
David’s treasure to Dan’s gaze; but, when the
latter stretched his hand to touch the bills, his father
.pn +1
.bn 090.png
hastily snatched away the box, and held it out of his
reach.
“What made ye do that for?” demanded the boy,
greatly astonished.
“’Kase I’m yer pap; that’s why,” was the satisfactory
answer.
“Wal, if it hadn’t been for me ye wouldn’t a
know’d nothing about them thar greenbacks,” said
Dan, angrily. “I done told ye all about ’em, an’ if
I aint got a right to tech ’em, I’d like to know
what’s the reason why.”
“Ye’ve been a good boy, Dannie, an’ I’m goin’
to do well by ye. Ye jest see ef I don’t.”
“Ye done told me that when we got ’em ye
would give me half.”
“Certinly I done told ye so, an’ I allers stand to
what I say.”
“Wal, I reckon ye might as well count ’em out
now as any time,” said Dan, who did not at all like
his father’s tone and manner. “This fire gives a
good light, an’ ye kin see by it. How much be I
goin’ to get of them hundred and sixty dollars?”
“As much as ninety dollars, mebbe. I can’t
jest exactly tell, ’kase I haint figured it as yet.”
“Ye might as well figure it up now, I reckon,
.pn +1
.bn 091.png
mightn’t ye? What be ye doin’ that for?” cried
Dan, when he saw his father replace the cover, and
put the box back into his pocket.
“It’ll be safe thar, Dannie,” was the reply.
“But I kin take keer on my own money,” Dan
almost shouted; “an’ dog-gone my buttons, I want
it now. Count it out here, I tell ye.”
“Not by no manner of means,” answered Godfrey.
Dan was thunderstruck. He could scarcely believe
that his ears were not deceiving him. He
began to think he could see what his father had determined
upon. “Aint—aint you goin’ to give me
my share?” he managed to ask.
“No, I aint a goin’ to give it to ye no more,
’kase I done give it to you onct, an’ I allers stand
to what I say. Half of this money is yourn
already, but ye’d best let yer poor ole pap take
keer on it fur ye, Dannie.”
“Whoop!” shrieked Dan, jumping up and knocking
his heels together.
“What do a boy like yerself know about money?”
continued Godfrey. “Yer pap is older an’ knows
more’n ye do; an’ it’s the properest thing that he
.pn +1
.bn 092.png
should take keer on it for ye. I’ll keep it in the
box with mine, an’ then it will be safe.”
Dan’s rage was wonderful to behold. Was this
the reward he was to receive for his services? He
had acted as a faithful scout for his father, and
kept him posted in all that was going on in the settlement.
More than that, he had, as he believed,
destroyed all his chances of living at home again,
and he had done it all on the strength of his
father’s promise that, when David’s money had been
secured, he (Dan) should have half of it for his own.
Dan understood by that, that the money was to be
placed in his own hands, and that he would be
allowed to do as he pleased with it; but, when he
found that his father put a different construction
on their agreement, he was almost beside himself
with fury. He danced about the camp like an insane
boy, knocking his heels together, clapping his
hands, and yelling at the top of his voice; and all
the while Godfrey sat smoking, with a most provoking
smile on his face, but still keeping a wary
eye on the boy’s movements, for fear that his rage
might lead him to attempt some mischief.
“’Taint no arthly use to take on that thar way,
Dannie,” said his father, as soon as the boy’s wild
.pn +1
.bn 093.png
yells had subsided, so that he could make himself
heard. “I don’t conspute that the money’s yourn,
do I?”
“Then, if it is mine, why don’t you hand it out
here, like a man had oughter do?” cried Dan.
“Haint I done told ye that it’s the best and properest
thing that I should take keer on it fur ye?”
“I don’t want ye to take keer on it for me, an’
ye shan’t. It’s nothin’ but a plan ye’ve made up all
outen yer own head to steal the hul on it, an’ cheat
me outen my share; but ye shan’t do that nuther.
Now, pap, I’ll tell ye what’s the gospel truth ’bout
them thar greenbacks: If ye don’t count me out
my ninety dollars right now, I’ll—I’ll——”
Dan suddenly paused, and took his seat on the
opposite side of the fire. If it had been daylight,
so that his father could see his compressed lips and
the glitter in his eye, he might have been more
cautious, for he would have known that Dan had
determined on some desperate course of action.
“What was ye goin’ to say, sonny?” asked Godfrey,
with the most exasperating coolness.
“I was goin’ to say jest this yere, pap,” replied
Dan, who was hardly able to control himself, “I’ll
give ye a week to think on it, an’ then, if ye don’t
.pn +1
.bn 094.png
give me my share of them hundred and sixty dollars,
thar’ll be the biggest furse in this settlement that
thar’s been since the wah!”
“What’ll ye do, Dannie?”
“I’ll do something ye won’t like. Ye hear me?”
“Wal, I’ll think about it,” answered Godfrey,
who knew very well that his hopeful son meant all
he said, “an’ if I find that yer an’ amazin’ good
boy, an’ know how to take keer of money, I’ll give
ye yer share to keep for yerself.”
“That’ll be when the sky falls an’ we ketch blackbirds,”
said Dan, to himself. “I know ye, pap, an’
ye think ye know me, too; but ye’ll find out afore
mornin’ that ye don’t.”
But Dan said nothing aloud. In sullen silence
he arranged a few withered bows for a bed, threw
himself down upon them, and with his cap for a pillow,
prepared to go to sleep. Godfrey remained by
the fire for an hour or two longer, smoking and
meditating, and when he became sleepy he stretched
himself out where he sat and almost immediately
sank into a heavy slumber.
Toward midnight the fire began to burn low, and
Dan, with a snort and a start, sat up on his bed of
boughs and looked about him. He stretched his
.pn +1
.bn 095.png
arms and yawned loudly, and with a great deal more
noise than seemed to be necessary, got up and mended
the fire, furtively watching his father out of the
corner of his eye as he did so. “He’s all right,”
muttered Dan, with great satisfaction. “I reckoned
mebbe he was ‘possumin’, but when he puffs
his under lip in and out that thar way, he’s fast
asleep.”
As these thoughts passed through Dan’s mind he
suddenly ceased his operations at the fire, and
approaching the sleeper with a stealthy step, kneeled
down beside him and pulled out his jack-knife. He
had noticed that it was only after a good deal of hard
work that his father was able to push the box containing
David’s money into his pocket, and that after
he got it in, it was equally hard to get it out again.
Dan had determined to possess that box and its contents,
and knowing that he would run a great risk
if he attempted to force it out of his father’s pocket,
he hit upon the easier and safer plan of cutting it
out. This he did with one swift, careful stroke with
his knife, and Godfrey was none the wiser for it.
The box fell out into Dan’s hand, and he lost no
time in transferring it to his own pocket.
“Thar, dog-gone ye!” whispered Dan, trembling
.pn +1
.bn 096.png
all over with excitement and apprehension. “Ye
wouldn’t give me my ninety dollars, but tried to
cheat me outen ’em, sayin’ ye was a goin’ to take
keer on ’em fur me. I’ll take keer on the hul on it
now, an’ not a dollar of it do ye see again. Didn’t
I say that ye’d find out afore mornin’ that ye didn’t
know me?”
So saying Dan shook his fist at the unconscious
Godfrey, and crossing over to the other side of the
fire with noiseless footsteps, picked up his rifle and
crept away into the woods.
.pn +1
.bn 097.png
.pb
.sp 4
.h2 id=ch06
CHAPTER VI || BOB IS ASTONISHED.
.sp 2
.dc 0.2 0.65
“NOW Dave,” said Don, kindly, “brace up and
be a man. Don’t take it so much to heart.”
“It is easy enough to say ‘brace up,’” sobbed
David, “but how would you feel if you were in my
place?”
“I don’t know, for you have not yet told me just
what is the matter. Now let us hear the whole story
from the beginning,” said Don, seating himself on
the wharf beside the weeping boy.
David wiped away his tears, choked down his sobs
by an effort, and proceeded to give a very disconnected
account of the incidents that had happened
at the cabin the night before. Don’s cheek flushed
while he listened. If David had asked him now
how he would feel if he were in the same situation,
he would have received a prompt and decided reply.
Don felt as if he would like to break Godfrey’s head
and Dan’s, too.
.pn +1
.bn 098.png
“Mother and I never slept a wink last night,”
continued David. “We did not even go to bed.
We could only talk and cry. Mother says we can’t
do anything about it, for father has the right to take
all my earnings.”
“Whew!” whistled Don. “That’s a fact.” He
had not thought of it, however, until that moment.
He had been telling himself that if there were officers
enough in the county to find Godfrey, he should
be arrested at once; but now he saw that there were
difficulties in the way.
“And another bad thing about it is that I owe
Silas Jones a grocery bill, and haven’t a cent to pay
it with,” added David. “I ought to have paid him
when he gave me the money, but I did not think of
it. I was too impatient to get home and show mother
the roll of greenbacks you had helped me to earn.”
“And we’ll help you earn more this very day,”
said Don, cheerfully. “Don’t let that bill trouble
you. I have ten dollars of your money in my hands,
you know, and there are forty dollars more waiting
for you up there in the woods.”
David could only look his surprise.
“You know you have an interest in that bear trap
on Bruin’s Island,” continued Don, “Bert and I
.pn +1
.bn 099.png
have just been up there and found three bears—an
old one and two cubs. We shot the old one and will
take her as our share of the spoils, and you shall
have the cubs. Silas Jones will give you twenty
dollars apiece for them. We’re going back after
them as soon as we get some help. Do you feel like
going with us? Perhaps it would liven you up a
little.”
“I’m afraid it wouldn’t,” said David, beginning
to cry again. “You have been very kind to me,
but my bad luck is too much for all of us. I
haven’t the heart to do anything.”
“Well, I don’t suppose you have,” said Don, in
a sympathizing tone. “Go home and make your
mind as easy as possible, and we will see what can
be done for you. There! good-by.”
David being thus abruptly dismissed staggered to
his feet and walked away, while Don, after lingering
long enough to flourish his fists and make other
demonstrations indicative of a desire to pound somebody,
ran off toward the house, leaving his brother
to make the sail-boat ready for her trip up the
bayou.
“Why, Don,” exclaimed the general, as the boy
burst panting and almost breathless into the library,
.pn +1
.bn 100.png
where his father sat busy with his papers, “what
has happened? You seem to be very much excited
about something.”
“O, father,” cried Don, “here’s a fearful mess.
Dave Evans received a hundred and sixty-four dollars
and a half, clear of all expenses, for his quails,
and last night his father came home and stole every
cent of it.”
The general laid down his pen and turned his
chair around so that he could face Don. “How
did Godfrey find out that David had the money?”
he asked.
“Dan must have told him, for he was there looking
through a crack between the logs; but how Dan
found it out is a mystery. Dave was going to give
the money to me as soon as I came home. Godfrey
must have acted like a brute. He threw Dave clear
across the room, and pushed his mother about in a
way that was perfectly shameful.”
“It is very unfortunate,” said the general, referring
as much to the condition of Godfrey and his
family as to the loss of David’s money.
“And the worst of it is that David has no redress,”
continued Don. “He is a minor, and that
lazy Godfrey can take every cent he earns.”
.pn +1
.bn 101.png
“That would be true under certain circumstances,”
replied the general with a smile, “but suppose
you and I could show to Judge Packard’s satisfaction
that Godfrey is not a proper person to have
charge of a family, and that he has not contributed
a dollar towards their support for years; what
then?”
“I am sure I don’t know,” said Don, after thinking
a moment. “Would the judge do anything
about it?”
“Very likely he would. He would issue a warrant
for his arrest; and as it would be no trouble at
all to prove that David is the main stay of the family,
and that he needs that money for the support of
himself and his mother, the court would compel Godfrey
to hand it over, and then it would probably
give him his choice between going to work and going
to jail.”
“Good!” exclaimed Don. “David will come
out all right after all.”
“I think so,” replied the general, smiling at the
boy’s enthusiasm, “and this is just the time to
attend to the matter. Court is in session now, you
know, and I will see the judge at once.”
Don was delighted; and having placed David’s
.pn +1
.bn 102.png
interests in safe hands, now spoke of his own
affairs.
“That isn’t all I have to tell you,” said he.
“We found a cub in our trap this morning; the
dogs treed another, and I shot the old bear.”
The general, who was busy putting away his
papers, turned and looked at Don.
“She was the largest bear I ever saw alive, and
it took a bullet and two loads of buckshot to settle
her,” continued the boy.
“I hope you will not get into any trouble during
your hunting expeditions,” said the general, but it
was easy enough to see that he took a fatherly
pride in Don’s exploit.
“The strange part of the story is, that when Bert
and I reached the island we found Bob Owens and
Lester Brigham there, and the old bear had treed
them both.”
“That is the second time they have been treed to
my knowledge.”
“Sir?” said Don, who knew nothing of the
attempt that had been made on the negro cabin.
“Go on with your story,” replied the general,
“what were Bob and Lester doing on the island?”
Don hesitated a moment, turning his father’s
.pn +1
.bn 103.png
words over in his mind and trying to fathom their
meaning, and then proceeded to give a hasty account
of the thrilling incidents that had happened on the
island that morning. The general opened his eyes
in surprise, and in response to Don’s request that
he might have help enough to secure the cubs and
remove the old bear, said:
“Certainly. Go to the overseer and tell him you
want Jake and Cuff. They will give you all the
help you need. If it was not for what you have just
told me about David’s misfortune, I would go with
you myself.”
Don thanked his father, and hurried from the
room. The two negroes were at work in the field,
and the field was half a mile from the house. That
was too far to walk, especially for one who was in
such a hurry as Don was, so he jumped on his pony,
without saddle or bridle, and set off in a gallop.
The negroes grinned all over with delight when the
overseer told them what Don wanted of them, and,
shouldering their axes, started at once for the house,
while Don galloped on ahead. Having delivered
his pony into the hands of the hostler, he ran into
the house, seized a lunch which one of his sisters
quickly put up for him, and he and Bert sat in the
.pn +1
.bn 104.png
boat and ate it, while waiting for Jake and Cuff.
Bert breathed easier when he learned that David
had rights after all, and that the law was plenty
strong enough to give them to him. Their first
care, he said, must be to tell David the good news;
but when the negroes had rowed them up to the
cabin, they found no one there. The premises were
entirely deserted.
There was a good deal of excitement and sport,
and more hard work, crowded into the next hour.
The old bear proved to be fully as heavy and unmanageable
as Don had expected, and it was only by dint
of extra exertion that they succeeded in getting her
into the boat. The cubs squalled, bit and scratched,
and before they were secured, Don, who was foremost
in the battle, had, as he expressed it, “a pretty
looking pair of hands,” while Bert’s coat was minus
one sleeve and a portion of the other. But they
had lots of fun in spite of the hard usage they received.
It was a heavy load the stanch little sail-boat had
to carry down the bayou, and her gunwales were not
more than three inches above the water, but she carried
it in safety, and, in due time, was moored to
the wharf. One of the negroes was sent to the barn
.pn +1
.bn 105.png
after a span of mules and a wagon, and when he
came back the bears were all tumbled into the
vehicle, and hauled up to the house. The old bear
was left on the grass, near the back porch, so that
the general could see her when he came home; and,
when the boys’ mother and sisters had taken a good
look at the cubs, Jake was sent back to his work in
the field, and Don and Bert drove toward the landing,
taking Cuff with them. They wanted a strong
and faithful ally near at hand, in case the cubs succeeded
in freeing themselves from the ropes with
which they were confined.
The boys found Mr. Jones sitting in front of his
store, and the usual number of loafers were keeping
him company. “Here they are!” said Don, as he
stopped the wagon at the edge of the sidewalk.
The grocer seemed surprised, but he did not ask
any questions. He got up and looked into the
wagon, and then he was more surprised than ever.
He appeared to be delighted, too. “Hold on a
minute,” said he. “Leave them right there until I
fix a place for them.”
“How much are they worth?” asked Don.
“Twenty dollars apiece, cash down.”
.pn +1
.bn 106.png
“Are you going to keep them, Mr. Jones?”
asked Bert.
“O, no! I am buying them for a showman, who
lives in Memphis.”
Had this incident happened in a city, Don’s
wagon would quickly have been surrounded by a
crowd of curious people; but the planters about
Rochdale had seen so many young bears, that they
did not look upon them as objects of interest. The
hangers-on got up and took just one look at them,
asked the boys a few questions regarding the manner
in which their capture had been effected, and then
set to work to assist Silas in preparing a box for
their reception. The work was soon done; the
cubs were transferred to their new quarters, and
Don, with forty dollars in his pocket, turned the
mules about and drove homeward.
Meanwhile how fared it with Lester and Bob,
whom we left in the canebrake comparing notes, and
in no amiable frame of mind? Lester seemed to be
pretty badly used up by his fall, and it was only
after several attempts that he succeeded in regaining
his feet; and even then he could not walk, and his
companion was obliged to carry him to the boat.
But his tongue was lively enough, and he heartily
.pn +1
.bn 107.png
united with Bob in denouncing the boy who had
saved his life. They could not make up their minds
whom they hated the more—Don Gordon, who had
taken the fight out of their hands and killed the
bear, or David Evans, who was to receive forty dollars
more, to be added to the nice little sum he had
received for trapping the quails.
Having placed his helpless companion in a comfortable
position in the bow of the canoe, Bob went
back after the guns and Lester’s hat, which had been
left on the battle field, and then he picked up one of
the paddles and pushed off into the stream.
“Luck is against us—that is plain enough to be
seen,” said he. “We fail in everything we undertake,
and if I should slip up on that mail business
it would not surprise me at all. Don will blow this
exploit of his all over the settlement, and that will
place us in a most ridiculous position.”
“But can’t we talk as fast as he can?” asked
Lester. “Here are you and me on one side, and
Don and Bert on the other. Our word is just as
good as theirs. I couldn’t shoot at the bear because
my gun was foul,” added Lester, who had just discovered
that the muzzle of his weapon was choked
with mud. “But you shot her, and the wound
.pn +1
.bn 108.png
proved fatal—not immediately, but in a few minutes.
After the bear was dead, up came this Don Gordon
and fired a bullet and two loads of buckshot into her,
and claiming to have killed her, carried off the old
bear and both the cubs. How’s that?”
“Good enough!” exclaimed Bob, who saw at
once what his companion was trying to get at.
“To add weight to the story—I have been in a
dozen bear fights, and Don was never in one before
to-day.”
“But I don’t know how to account for my injuries,”
said Lester, taking hold of his left leg with
both hands, and moving it into a little easier position.
“I do,” said Bob. “Which part of you hurts
the most?”
“My left hip.”
“All right. There’s where the bear hit you with
her paw when she first came out of the cane.”
“But how did I get my lame shoulder?”
“She knocked you against a tree.”
“So she did,” exclaimed Lester. “And it was
while the bear was knocking me over that you shot
her. Now keep all these little things in mind, so
that our stories will agree.”
.pn +1
.bn 109.png
“Is that what you are going to tell your father?”
“That’s just it.”
“Well, don’t you think it will help the bond business
a little? I saved your life, you know; for, of
course, the bear would have killed you if I hadn’t
stood by you.”
“I’ll say so, if you want me to, but it will not be
necessary. You needn’t worry about those bonds,
for I assure you they are all right. Father does almost
every thing I ask him to do.”
Greatly encouraged by these words, Bob bent to
his work with redoubled energy, and the little canoe
shot swiftly down the bayou. He made a landing
in front of Godfrey Evans’s cabin, and leaving his
companion there, started for home after a horse and
wagon; for Lester declared that he could not possibly
ride on horseback. Bob returned at the end of
an hour, and having placed his friend in a comfortable
position, on a pile of straw on the bottom of the
wagon, mounted to the seat and drove off. He was
obliged to drive very slowly, and another hour passed
before he turned into the carriage-way that led up to
Mr. Brigham’s residence.
Great was the consternation in that house when
Lester was carried, limp and helpless, up the steps
.pn +1
.bn 110.png
that led to the porch; great was the surprise depicted
upon every countenance when it became
known that the two boys had passed through the
most desperate bear fight that had ever been heard
of, and many were the words of praise that Bob received
for the courage he had exhibited in saving the
life of his friend. Mrs. Brigham, who believed
every word of the ridiculous story, assured him that
his heroic conduct should not be forgotten, and Bob,
greatly pleased with this little stroke of policy, got
into his wagon and drove home. When he had unharnessed
the horse, he went into the house and
found the family just sitting down to a late dinner.
“Why, Bob,” said Mr. Owens, as his eyes fell
upon the boy’s torn and muddy clothing, “you look
as though you had been somewhere.”
“I should say I had been somewhere,” replied
Bob. “If I haven’t had a time this morning!
Whew! it makes me tremble to think of it. I’ll
tell you all about it in a few minutes.”
Bob went to his room to dress for dinner, and,
when he came back and had taken his seat at the
table, he began and related the particulars of the
fright on Bruin’s Island, just as he and Lester had
agreed. Mr. Owens looked incredulous, and stared
.pn +1
.bn 111.png
at Bob so fixedly that the boy was obliged to drop
his eyes and look down at his plate. “It’s a fact,”
said he, stoutly. “You just ask Lester the next
time you see him. He is all battered and bruised,
and I have just helped to put him to bed.”
Mr. Owens made no reply. He went on eating
his dinner, and Bob, after he had taken a few minutes
in which to recover his composure (for his
father’s sharp glances told him that his story was
not believed), inquired:
“Have you done anything about that mail business,
father?”
“I have done all I could this forenoon, and am
going to work again this afternoon. Gordon has
already sent in his bid, and the worst of it is, he
has all the best men about here to back him up—that
is, all those who consider themselves the
best,”—added Mr. Owens, in a sneering tone.
“But it doesn’t follow that one man is better than
another because he lives in a larger house and has
more money. I shall call on a few planters in the
settlement, after dinner, and then I will ride over
and see Brigham about those bonds.”
“You’ll get them, sure,” said Bob, confidently.
“Lester said so.”
.pn +1
.bn 112.png
“I shall put in my bid at twenty-five dollars,”
continued Mr. Owens.
“That will be a loss of five dollars a month, or
sixty dollars a year,” said Bob, thoughtfully. “It
is a lot of money, father.”
“But if, by losing sixty dollars a year, you could
make three hundred, don’t you think it would be a
good investment?”
Bob said he thought it would; but he told himself
that he had just as much right to demand thirty
dollars a month for carrying the mail as Dave
Evans had. Sixty dollars would buy many things
that would be useful to him. That ragamuffin was
always in his way.
Bob, having finished his dinner, went out and
loitered around until he saw his father mount his
horse and ride away, and then he walked off down
the lane. He wanted to get away, by himself, so
that he could think over his future prospects. He
wandered aimlessly about, building air-castles, until
it began to grow dark, and then he turned his face
toward home, where he arrived just in time to see
Mr. Owens dismount at the gate.
“What luck?” asked Bob, who was now in
the greatest suspense, for he knew that his fate
.pn +1
.bn 113.png
depended upon the first words that fell from his
father’s lips.
Mr. Owens did not reply at once. With the most
provoking deliberation he hitched his horse to the
fence, after which he faced about, put his hands into
his pockets, and looked at his son. “Bob,” said
he, in a tone of voice which made the boy’s heart
sink within him, “you remember the night that you
and Lester went ’coon-hunting, don’t you?”
Bob started, but tried to look innocent. Fixing
his eyes thoughtfully on the ground, as if he were
trying hard to recall the night to which his father
referred, he said, slowly:
“I can’t say that I do. We have been ’coon-hunting
a good many times, you know.”
“But I have in mind one particular night on
which something occurred that you will remember
the longest day you live.”
Bob looked down at the ground again, and began
to tremble. Knowing what was coming, he backed
up against the fence, as if he feared that his father’s
next words would knock him over. And they did
come pretty near it.
“Well, Bob,” said Mr. Owens, “I will tell you,
for your satisfaction, that you have destroyed all
.pn +1
.bn 114.png
your chances of being mail carrier in this county.
Mr. Brigham said he could not assist in placing a
would-be thief in so responsible a position.”
“A thief!” gasped Bob.
“Yes. If it hadn’t been for Don Gordon’s hounds
you and Lester would have broken into one of the
general’s negro cabins. There’s where you were on
the night you said you went ’coon-hunting. Did you
know what you were about? If you had succeeded
the law would have taken hold of you.”
“I didn’t do it,” exclaimed Bob, as soon as he
could speak. “There’s not a word of truth in it.”
“O, you can’t face it down, and there is no use
in trying. The story is all over the settlement, and
when it came to Mr. Brigham’s ears this afternoon,
he made Lester confess.”
This was the worst blow of all. Lester had confessed!
And since he had begun, where had he
stopped? Had he told the truth concerning the adventures
of the morning? Had he—and here Bob’s
heart seemed to stop beating—had he told about
the burning of Don Gordon’s shooting-box? As
these thoughts passed through Bob’s mind his rage
for the moment got the better of him. “The coward!”
he exclaimed. “And I saved his life, too.”
.pn +1
.bn 115.png
“Well, the less you say about that, Bob, the better,”
replied Mr. Owens. “Lester received his
bruises by falling out of a tree.”
“How do you know?” Bob managed to ask.
“He said so.”
Bob couldn’t bear to hear another word. There
was only one thing more Lester had to confess, and
Bob thought he could not survive if his father should
tell him of that. As he turned and hurried down
the lane Mr. Owens exclaimed:
“There’s another thing, Bob. Lester made a
clean breast of everything while he was about it.”
The boy quickened his pace, but could not get
out of hearing of his father’s voice.
“Brigham and I are going to see the general in
the morning about the burning of that little shanty
over on the lake shore,” said Mr. Owens. “We
don’t want any trouble about it if we can help it.”
So intense were Bob’s feelings of rage and alarm
that he could scarcely breathe. Uttering a loud
yell, which he could not have repressed to save his
life, he broke into a run and went down the lane at
the top of his speed. But fast as he went his fears
kept pace with him, and somehow he could not help
recalling the text from which he had heard the minister
.pn +1
.bn 116.png
preach a few Sundays before: “Be sure your
sin will find you out!”
If Bob had never believed this before he believed
it now.
.pn +1
.bn 117.png
.pb
.sp 4
.h2 id=ch07
CHAPTER VII || BOB’S PLANS.
.sp 2
.dc 0.4 0.65
BOB hardly knew what to do with himself. He
ran down the lane at the top of his speed until he
was out of breath, and then seated himself on a log
in a fence corner to think over his situation. All
his bright dreams had vanished like the mists of the
morning. His friend Lester had overthrown all his
air-castles by the confession he had made, and worse
than that, he had placed Bob in a predicament such
as no boy had ever been placed in before.
“I will never speak to him again as long as I
live,” said Bob, shaking his fist at some imaginary
object. “The three hundred and sixty dollars a
year that I had hoped to earn will be sure to go into
the pockets of that Dave Evans, for there is no one
to run against him now that I am off the track.
And while he is riding about the country, holding
his head high in the air and sporting his fine clothes
and hunting and fishing outfit (Bob thought David
.pn +1
.bn 118.png
would spend the money he earned just as he himself
would have spent it had he been fortunate enough to
secure the position of mail carrier), what will I be
doing? I might as well be in the swamp with Godfrey,
for I shall never dare to look anybody in the
face again. And Lester promised faithfully to stand
by me, too.”
Bob had one lesson yet to learn, and that was,
if he wanted a friend who would stand by him in
any emergency, he must not look for him among
boys like Lester Brigham.
“My thirty dollars a month have gone up in
smoke,” continued Bob, who was more enraged when
he thought of his defeat than he was when he thought
of the damaging disclosures Lester had made, “and
what hurts me is the knowledge that Dave will get
them. I hope somebody will rob him the very first
time he rides out with that mail-bag. If I get a
good chance I’ll do it myself.”
If Bob had only known it, he was gradually working
himself into a very dangerous frame of mind.
The feelings to which he had given utterance were
like those that had led Clarence Gordon and Dan
Evans into so much difficulty. If Bob had been
able to look far enough into the future to see the
.pn +1
.bn 119.png
trouble that they were destined to bring him into,
he would have banished them with all possible haste,
angry and reckless as he was at that moment. He
remained seated on his log for two hours, growing
alarmed every time he recalled the incidents connected
with the burning of the shooting-box and the
attempt to rob the negro cabin, and furious whenever
he thought of the cowardice of his trusted friend;
and when he had thought the matter over without
having made up his mind to anything, he arose and
walked toward the house.
“I must go home some time, and I might as well
go now as an hour later,” thought he. “Of course
the family know all about it, and I’d rather be
whipped than see my mother, but it can’t be helped.
I wish to goodness one of those bears up in Michigan
had made an end to that cowardly Yankee before
he ever came down here to get me into this mess. I
don’t believe he ever saw Michigan. I know he
never saw a wild bear until this morning.”
With a dogged resolution to face the consequences
of his misdeeds, whatever they might be, Bob settled
his hat firmly on his head, clenched his hands,
and walked rapidly along the lane, until he reached
the house. He slammed the gate behind him, ran
.pn +1
.bn 120.png
up the steps that led to the porch, and after hanging
his hat on a nail in the hall, opened the door that
gave entrance into the sitting-room. Its only occupant
was his father, who sat by the fire reading a
newspaper.
“Ah! Bob, there’s something else I wanted to
tell you,” said the latter, in a tone of voice which
would have led a stranger to believe that he and Bob
had just been conversing on some agreeable subject.
Mr. Owens never held a grudge against his son, as a
good many fathers do. When he had said what he
had to say in regard to any of Bob’s misdeeds, that
was the end of the matter.
“I once heard you make a remark which leads me
to believe that the news I have to tell will please
you,” added Mr. Owens.
“I hope it will,” answered Bob. “I ought to
hear something pleasing after all the hard things I
have listened to to-night.”
“Well, you have sense enough to know that you
alone are to blame. I am sorry enough that you
allowed yourself to be led away, but it can’t be
helped now. Your wish has been gratified. David
Evans has lost every cent of the money he received
for his quails.”
.pn +1
.bn 121.png
Bob, who sat on the other side of the fire-place,
with his eyes fastened on the floor, started up and
became all attention when these words fell upon his
ear. He looked surprised for a moment, and then
settled back in his chair with a sigh indicative of the
greatest satisfaction. “Why, how did he lose it?”
he asked, as soon as he could speak.
“His father took it away from him,” was the
reply.
“Good!” cried Bob.
“It seems that both he and Dan were concerned
in the matter,” continued Mr. Owens. “Godfrey is
hiding somewhere in the swamp, you know, and Dan
has been acting as a sort of scout between his camp
and the village, and keeping him posted in all that
was going on.”
“I wish I had known it,” said Bob. “I would
have given Dan more than one hint.”
What would Bob have thought had he known that
Dan was the one who set Don Gordon’s hounds on
him, and defeated the attempt he had made to break
into the cabin and liberate David’s quails? He
would have been very likely to give him something
besides hints.
“Dan found out enough without help from anybody,”
.pn +1
.bn 122.png
returned Mr. Owens. “How he did it I
don’t know; but he managed matters so skilfully
that Godfrey dropped down on the cabin at the only
time he could have secured the money. If he had
waited until the next morning the greenbacks would
have been safe in the hands of Don Gordon, who, I
believe, acts as David’s banker, and Godfrey might
have whistled for them.”
“I am glad of it,” exclaimed Bob. “I am glad
of it,” he repeated, as he pictured to himself the despair
that must have taken possession of the Boy
Trapper when he saw his hard earnings thus unexpectedly
snatched from his grasp. “It serves him
just right; for if it hadn’t been for him I should
have had a nice little breech-loader hanging on the
pegs in my room in a few days more. I hope he
will be served in the same way every time he
gets out of his place, and tries to shove himself up
among white folks. I hope, too, that they’ll not
catch Godfrey.”
“You need not lose any sleep worrying over
that,” said Mr. Owens, with a smile. “Godfrey
knows every nook and corner of the swamp, and all the
constables in the county couldn’t find him. Besides,
what could they do with him if they did find him?”
.pn +1
.bn 123.png
“Couldn’t they do anything with him?” asked
Bob.
“Of course not. He is David’s father, and the
law gives him the right to take every penny the
boy earns up to the time he is twenty-one years old.”
“Good again,” cried Bob. “It is the best news
I ever heard, and will give me the best night’s rest
I have had for three weeks. Good-night, father.”
Mr. Owens picked up his paper again, and Bob
went to his room and tumbled into bed.
“I tell you it makes me feel easier to know that
that ragamuffin will never enjoy the money he has
cheated me out of,” thought Bob, who, in the satisfaction
he felt at David’s loss entirely forgot the
injury Lester Brigham had done him by his confession,
“but at the same time I am sorry to hear that
that worthless Godfrey has come into possession of
it. I ought to have it—the whole of it, now that
Lester has gone back on me, and if there was any
way that I could think of to outwit Godfrey and get
hold of it—By gracious!” exclaimed Bob, in great
excitement, “that’s a bright idea!”
Bob settled his head into a comfortable position
on his pillow and lay for a long time thinking over
something his father had said during their recent
.pn +1
.bn 124.png
conversation. Mr. Owens had remarked that Godfrey
knew every nook and corner of the swamps, and
that all the constables in the county could not find
him. Bob told himself that he knew every inch of
the swamps, too, and that if anybody could trace
Godfrey to his hiding-place, he was the one. But
he did not believe that the fugitive was in the
swamp. He thought that Godfrey’s camp could not
be very far away—in fact, that their plantation must
be nearer to it than any other, or else the man would
not have come to Mr. Owens’s smoke-house to steal
bacon. After Bob had reasoned in this way for a
while he must have arrived at some conclusions that
delighted him, for he suddenly raised himself upright
in bed and struck his open palm with his clenched
hand.
“Perhaps all the constables in the county can’t
find him,” said he to himself, “but I believe I can.
At any rate I’ll start out in search of his camp in
the morning just as soon as I have eaten my breakfast,
and if I discover it I’ll find some way to get
hold of that money or my name is not Owens.”
Bob lay down again and rolled over to think
about it; and he thought about it for hours. The
longer he turned the matter over in his mind, the
.pn +1
.bn 125.png
more excited he became; and, although he had told
his father that he could enjoy the best night’s rest
he had had for three weeks, he did not fall asleep
until about two hours before he was called to breakfast.
The first things he thought of after he opened
his eyes were the hundred and sixty dollars Godfrey
had in his possession, and the plans he had determined
to put into execution in order to get them into
his own hands. It never occurred to him then that
he was about to act the part of a thief, for he was so
wholly engrossed in thinking about the fine hunting
and fishing outfit that he intended to purchase with
the money, if he got it, that he could not bestow a
thought upon anything else. His chances for success
seemed so bright that he became excited while
he dwelt upon them, but he succeeded in controlling
himself so that the members of the family did not
notice it; and when he had eaten a hearty breakfast
and put a generous lunch into his game-bag, he
shouldered his father’s rifle and left the house.
His game-bag was not a very handsome or expensive
article. It was made of a piece of thick cloth,
cut square and sewed together on three sides, and
was slung over his shoulder by a leather strap.
This strap, where it crossed his breast, was formed
.pn +1
.bn 126.png
into a rude sheath in which Bob carried his hunting-knife.
The bag answered the purpose for which it
was intended—that of carrying the squirrels, quails,
and other small game that fell to Bob’s rifle—but it
did not suit the boy. He wanted something better,
and felt angry every time he looked at it.
“I’ll have one like Don Gordon’s before many
days (somehow all the boys in the settlement who
did not like Don envied him and wanted things just
like his), with a net to hold the game and leather
pockets to carry my knife, cartridges and matches in,”
said Bob to himself, as he put his lunch into the
bag. “I’ll have a breech-loader, too, just as good
as his own; and when I get it I’ll take pains to
meet him somewhere in order to let him see that
there are boys in the settlement who are just as well
off as he is, and just as able to throw on style.
Look out for yourself now, Godfrey Evans! I am
on the trail of those greenbacks!”
Bob made his way in the direction in which Godfrey
fled on the night he was discovered in the smoke-house,
and after crossing an extensive cornfield,
plunged into the woods and turned his face toward
a certain locality that he believed to be one of the
places in which Godfrey would be most likely to
.pn +1
.bn 127.png
make his camp. Bob knew that Godfrey had a
hiding-place on Bruin’s Island, in which he had concealed
himself while the Union forces were passing
through that part of the state, and he knew, too,
as everybody else in the settlement did, that he had
gone there as soon as his connection with the affair
of the buried treasure became known. It was also
noised abroad in the settlement that the fugitive had
been driven off the island by Don Gordon’s hounds,
and everybody wondered where he was now. Bob
thought he knew. There were numerous hills and
gullies on the main shore in the vicinity of Bruin’s
Island, and in one of these gullies he expected to
find the man of whom he was in search.
The moment Bob entered the woods he threw his
rifle into the hollow of his arm and slackened his
pace to a very slow and stealthy walk. His experience
had taught him that hunters sometimes run
upon the game of which they are in search before
they know it; and, although he believed Godfrey’s
camp to be five miles and more away, he was as cautious
as though he expected to find it in the very
next thicket. The sound of rustling branches and
dropping nuts, accompanied by an occasional squeal
of alarm, told him that the squirrels were at work
.pn +1
.bn 128.png
on all sides of him; but Bob paid no attention to
them. He was in pursuit of larger and more profitable
game. He made his way slowly through the
woods, stopping now and then behind a tree or
thicket of bushes to listen and look about him, and
at one o’clock found himself standing on the bank
of the bayou.
The bank, at this point, was in reality a bluff, and
rose to the height of a hundred feet or more. On
each side of it was a densely-wooded ravine, one of
which extended back into the forest, and the other,
after running parallel with the bayou for a short distance,
turned abruptly to the left and was finally
lost in the swamp. They were both excellent hiding-places,
and while Bob stood leaning on his rifle,
wondering which one he ought to explore first, he
saw a thin, blue cloud rising from the bushes which
covered the bottom of the ravine on his right. Most
boys would not have noticed it; but Bob was on
the lookout for just such a sign, and he knew at
once that it was the smoke of a camp-fire.
“There he is,” said he to himself, taking a hurried
survey of the ridge in the hope of finding a path
that led into the ravine. “It must be Godfrey, for
no one else would be likely to make a camp in such
.pn +1
.bn 129.png
a place. Now, if he is at home I must come upon
him before he knows it, for if he hears me he’ll run
off, and that wouldn’t suit me at all.”
Failing to find the path of which he was in search,
Bob selected a place where the bushes grew the
thinnest, and throwing himself on his hands and
knees, crept quickly but noiselessly down the ridge,
pushing his rifle in front of him as he went. Before
starting he fixed the direction of the camp-fire in his
mind, so that it was not necessary for him to stop
and take his bearings. He kept straight ahead,
working his way along with such caution that he
scarcely caused a leaf to rustle, and finally raising
his head above a huge log behind which he had
crept for concealment, he saw the camp-fire close
before him. Godfrey was at home, too. He was
lying on a bed of boughs beside the fire, his head
resting on his hand, the stem of his pipe tightly
clenched between his teeth and his eyes fixed upon
the glowing coals. The boy looked at him in surprise.
Godfrey had never been noted for his neat
appearance, at least since Bob became acquainted
with him, but the young hunter had never seen him
look as he did now. His clothes were all in tatters,
.pn +1
.bn 130.png
his hair, which was not concealed by a hat, was disheveled,
and his face was very pale and haggard.
“I wouldn’t be in his place for all the money
there is in Mississippi,” said Bob to himself, as he
drew back behind the log to make up his mind what
he ought to do next. “It will not be long now
before the cold winter rains will set in, and then
what will he do with himself? He’ll freeze to
death.”
Bob lay quiet behind the log for a minute or two
and then suddenly rising from his place of concealment,
showed himself to the astonished Godfrey,
who let his pipe fall out of his mouth and started up
in great alarm. Bob was so close to him that flight
was useless. He was discovered and there was no
help for it.
“Why, Godfrey, is that you?” exclaimed the
boy, as if the meeting were purely accidental.
“Did you see a spike buck run this way about half
an hour ago?”
Godfrey slowly and almost painfully arose to his
feet, bringing his rifle up with him, and the boy
heard the lock click as the hammer was drawn back.
He looked dangerous, and Bob began to fear that he
had done a very foolhardy thing, in following up so
.pn +1
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desperate a man as Godfrey was known to be when
he was aroused. “Hallo!” he cried. “What’s
the matter with you?”
“Ye can’t shet up my eyes with yer spike buck,”
answered Godfrey, in savage tones. “Ye’r on my
trail.”
“On your trail?” repeated Bob, innocently.
“Yes, an’ I know it. Ye’r a follerin’ me; but
it’ll take more’n one man to tote me to the calaboose.
Ye hear me speakin’?”
“Why, I don’t understand you.”
“Wal, I reckon ye know thar was a furse in the
settlement, an’ that they blamed me fur it, don’t
ye?” demanded Godfrey, impatiently.
“O, is that what you mean?” exclaimed Bob.
He leaned his gun against the log, and walking up
to the fire warmed his hands over the coals. Godfrey
looked sharply at him for a moment and then
dropped the butt of his rifle to the ground. “No,”
continued Bob, “I did not hear of any fuss in the
settlement. I knew that you and that city chap,
Clarence Gordon, played a good joke on Don, and
kept him tied up in your potato cellar all night; but
that can’t be what you are staying out here in the
.pn +1
.bn 132.png
woods for? It has all blown over now. Nobody
ever speaks of it.”
Godfrey looked suspiciously at Bob, and then his
face brightened. Perhaps things were not so bad
after all, he told himself. His brow became clouded
again a moment afterward, however, when he thought
of the highway robbery of which he had been guilty.
But he might have made his mind easy on this
score, for there was no one in the settlement who
knew anything about it, not even the general; for
his brother had never mentioned the circumstance
in his letters.
“Is that all ye heared about me?” asked Godfrey.
“Well, no,” answered Bob. “I understand that
you went home night before last and took the hundred
and sixty dollars Dave made by trapping
quails.”
“Wal, dog-gone my buttons, wasn’t they mine?”
shrieked Godfrey, jumping up and knocking his
heels together. “Haint he my son an’ haint I his
pap? Haint I older an’ don’t I know more’n he
does, an’ haint it the properest thing that I should
have the handlin’ of all the money what comes into
the family? Whoop! Don’t the law give me all
.pn +1
.bn 133.png
the airnin’s of my scamps of boys till they’re twenty-one
years ole?”
“Hold on, now,” exclaimed Bob, who, although
he was not a little startled by Godfrey’s exhibition
of temper, tried to look quite unconcerned. “Don’t
smash things. Everybody knows that it was your
money, and that you had a perfect right to take it.”
“That’s jest what makes me so pizen savage,”
yelled Godfrey, throwing down his rifle, burying
both hands in his hair, and striding back and forth
like an insane man. “It’s mine, an’ I had oughter
have it; but, dog-gone it, I haint got it now.”
The last word was uttered with a wild shriek that
made the words ring again. Bob looked and listened
in great wonder, and stepped back a pace or two.
“Jest look a yer,” cried Godfrey, thrusting his
hand into his pocket and bringing it out through the
hole which Dan had cut with his knife. “I give
half the money to that thar mean Dan o’ mine, but
he got mad jest kase I wanted to take keer on it
fur him; so when I was asleep he cut out the box
an’ tuk hisself off to the swamp!”
Here Godfrey went off into another wild paroxysm
of rage, and Bob sat down on the log and
looked at him.
.pn +1
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.pb
.sp 4
.h2 id=ch08
CHAPTER VIII || BOB IN A QUANDARY.
.sp 2
.dc 0.2 0.65
“YES, sur, that’s jest what that mean Dan o’ mine
done,” shouted Godfrey, swinging his arms
about his head. “I didn’t find it out until this
mornin’, an’ then I cut a big hickory, and tuk arter
him mighty peart, I tell ye; but somehow I couldn’t
ketch the trail. I’ll take arter him agin bright an’
’arly to-morrer, howsomever, an’ I’ll ketch him if I
have to hoof over the hul state of Mississip. I jest
come back here to take a leetle rest an’ kinder plan
my movements, like the generals do afore a battle,
ye know.”
This was not the real reason why Godfrey came
back to his old camp. He believed that Dan was
hiding somewhere in the swamp; and as that covered
a large section of country, where plantations were
few and far between, Godfrey thought it would be
a good plan to replenish his haversack before starting
in pursuit of his graceless son. The bacon and
.pn +1
.bn 135.png
meal he had stolen from Mr. Owens’s smoke-house
(Godfrey wondered why Bob did not say something
to him about that affair) had all been eaten or
wasted, and when night came Godfrey intended to
go out on another foraging expedition. He was
well acquainted in the settlement, all the dogs knew
him, and it would be much easier and safer for him
to break into a smoke-house there, than it would be
in a strange neighborhood.
Bob was very much astonished at what he heard.
He knew that Godfrey had uttered nothing but the
truth, and told himself that he understood the situation
perfectly. Godfrey was called the meanest
man in the settlement, so far as money was concerned.
He had been known to go to the store and
beg for credit when he had cash enough in his
pocket to pay for the goods he wanted. He would
hold fast to a dollar as long as he could, and only
let it go when he found that he could not help himself.
It was not to be supposed that he would willingly
give Dan half the hundred and sixty dollars,
no matter how solemn the promises he might have
made him. The plea that he wanted to take care of
Dan’s share for him amused Bob, who knew that it
was only an excuse on Godfrey’s part for keeping it
.pn +1
.bn 136.png
all; and the boy thought that Dan showed wisdom
in doing as he did. He wondered at it, too. He
didn’t think Dan was half so smart.
“Well, Godfrey,” said Bob, rising from his log
and picking up his rifle, “if any one should serve
me a trick like that, do you know what I would do?
I would hunt him, night and day, until I found him.”
“Yer mighty right, I will,” yelled Godfrey.
“Ye hear me? An’ when I ketch him, I’ll make a
hickory whistle about them ears of his’n till he’ll
think thar’s a harrycane goin’ through the woods.
Now I’m a shoutin’ to ye!”
“Well, good-by, Godfrey,” exclaimed Bob, who,
seeing that the man began to show symptoms of
going into another flurry, thought it best to get out
of harm’s way. “Success to you.”
“I say, Mister Bob,” cried Godfrey, suddenly
calming himself, “yer a monstrous fine boy, Bob,
an’ me an’ my ole woman has allers been amazin’
fond of ye, an’ sot a heap of store by ye. Ye won’t
say nothing to nobody ’bout seein’ me out here in
the bresh, will ye, Mister Bob?”
“Not a word. You may depend upon me, Godfrey.
If they don’t find you till I tell them where
you are, you’ll never be found. Now here’s a go,”
.pn +1
.bn 137.png
thought Bob, as he brought his rifle to a trail, and
struggled slowly up the steep bank toward the top of
the ridge, “and the question is, who is going to
catch Dan first, Godfrey or I? I shouldn’t be afraid
to say that I shall be the successful one, for Godfrey
is going to look in the wrong place. He thinks
Dan is in the swamp, but I don’t. He has shown
himself to be a sly fox, and he wouldn’t be foolish
enough to go down there and get lost in those dense
canebrakes. There are too many bears and wild-cats
in them. Dan is hidden somewhere among these
hills, and so close to the settlement that he can hear
every boat that whistles at the landing.”
Bob was greatly encouraged by what he had
heard during his interview with Godfrey. He
thought it was a very fortunate thing for him that
Dan had stolen the money, for it made it easier for
him to accomplish the task he had set for himself.
He had entertained some serious doubts as to his
ability to outwit Godfrey, but he told himself that,
if he was not smart enough to get the better of Dan
in some way, he ought to go without a breech-loader
as long as he lived. Just how he would set about
it he had not made up his mind. His first hard
work must be, to find Dan. That was the greatest
.pn +1
.bn 138.png
difficulty to be overcome. The others were small in
comparison.
Having, at last, reached the top of the ridge, Bob
sat down for a few minutes to recover his breath,
and eat his lunch, and then set out through the
woods at a rapid walk. There was no need of caution,
now, for it was not at all probable that Dan
would be found anywhere within sight of the smoke
of his father’s camp-fire. Bob seemed to know
where he was going, for he held a straight course,
turning aside for neither gully nor hill, until, at
length, he reached a high ridge, bounded on each
side by a deep and densely-wooded ravine, like the
one in which he had discovered Godfrey. If Dan
was to be found anywhere among the hills, this was
the place in which Bob thought he ought to look for
him. He examined both the ravines as well as he
could, as he walked rapidly along, but nothing like
the smoke of a camp-fire was to be seen. When he
arrived at the end of the ridge he would have been
glad to return, and go over that portion of it which
he had not yet surveyed; but the declining sun admonished
him that it was time for him to turn his
face homeward, and this he reluctantly did.
“I was in hopes that I should have that money in
.pn +1
.bn 139.png
my possession before I went to bed to-night,” thought
Bob, as he shouldered his rifle, and struck a straight
course for his father’s plantation. “But I’ll have
it to-morrow night, unless luck goes against me. I
am sure he is in one of these two gullies; and I will
be out in the morning about the time he is cooking
his breakfast, and then I’ll see the smoke of his fire.
Hallo! Be-he-he!”
That is as near as we can come to spelling the
sound to which Bob gave utterance, just after he
finished his soliloquy. It was a perfect imitation of
the bleat of a fawn. While he was hurrying along,
intent on reaching home before dark, and thinking
busily about Dan Evans, he “jumped” a huge buck
from the top of a fallen tree, just in front of him.
The buck ran as only a frightened deer can, but,
before he had made many bounds, he heard Bob’s
call, and came to a stand-still. He paused but an
instant, but that instant was fatal to him. As he
turned his stately head, the bullet from Bob’s rifle
pierced his neck and he fell, and died almost without
a struggle. Bob ran quickly to his side, and in a
very short space of time, considering the amount of
work that was done, the deer had been cleaned and
hung upon the branches of a small tree, out of reach
.pn +1
.bn 140.png
of the wolves, and the young hunter was once more
on his way home. He reached the house shortly
after dark, and found the family just sitting down to
supper.
Bob fell asleep that night while laying his plans
for the following day, and being wearied with his
long tramp, he slept soundly; but he was up by the
time the first gray streaks of dawn were seen in the
east, and accompanied by a decrepit old negro, who
led a mule as old and infirm as himself, set out for
another day in the woods.
“Mister Bob,” said the negro, as they made their
way across the cornfield, “does yer know dat somebody
was a tryin’ fur to steal dem chickens dis
mornin’?”
“No,” replied Bob. “I didn’t know it.”
“Yes, sar, dar was. Dis mornin’ I heared a
fursin’ out dar an’ I says to myself: ‘Bijah, dar’s
an owl gwine fur dem chickens.’ So I gets up an’
goes to de do’ fur to shoo him off, an’ I sees somebody
in de tree whar de chickens was a roostin’. So
I goes up mighty quiet an’ still an’ he nebber sees
nor hears me till I was plumb under de tree; den he
draps and I retch fur him. But I aint spry like I
was in my young days—no, sar, I aint—an’ I nebber
.pn +1
.bn 141.png
cotch him; but I skeared him mighty bad, an’ ye
jest oughter see dat feller hump hisself.”
“He ran fast, did he?”
“O, yes, sar.”
“Did he take any chickens with him?”
“No, sar. I done made him drap dem.”
“Do you know who he was?”
“O, yes, sar; dat biggest Ebans boy—Dan Ebans.
Yes, sar, dat’s who he was. Mister Bob, ’pears to
me dat de law oughter cotch some of dem white
trash, kase dey’s a heap wusser den de niggers ’bout
stealin’. Yes, sar, dey is so.”
“O, there’s no use in saying anything about it,
Bijah. He didn’t get any of the chickens?”
“No, sar, but he done tried mighty hard.”
“I would not care if he had got every chicken on
the plantation,” said Bob, to himself, “for now I
know that I am on the right track. Dan is camped
closer to our house than he is to any other, or he
would not have come to our hen-roost to steal chickens.
He is well enough acquainted with the woods
to know that the best hiding-place he can find is in
one of those two gullies, and right there is where I
shall look for him.”
Bob found the buck he had killed the night before
.pn +1
.bn 142.png
just as he had left it, and when it had been placed
on the mule’s back, old Bijah set out on his return
to the plantation. As soon as he was out of sight
among the trees Bob turned his face toward the
ridge he had explored on the previous day, moving
along so slowly and stealthily that he had hardly
caused a leaf to rustle. When he reached the high
ground he became still more cautious in his movements,
and every now and then he would stop and
listen, and look sharply in every direction.
Had a city youth been standing by Bob’s side on
the top of the ridge, he would have thought that the
young hunter had undertaken a hopeless task. The
gullies, which ran on each side, were so densely covered
with bushes that an army might have found
concealment in them. More than that, they were
two or three hundred yards wide at the bottom, and
more than five miles long; and how could Bob hope
to discover a single boy in that wilderness? By the
same tell-tale sign that had revealed Godfrey’s presence
to him—the smoke of a camp-fire. He discovered
it before he had gone half a mile. It ascended
in a thick cloud from a clump of bushes on the side
of the opposite ridge, and Bob told himself that Dan
.pn +1
.bn 143.png
had just started his fire, and was getting ready to
cook his breakfast.
“He’ll not have broiled chicken, that’s certain,”
said he, as he threw himself flat on the ground and
began to work his way down the ridge in the direction
of Dan’s camp. “He ran considerable risk when
he tried to rob our hen-roost, and I don’t see what
made him do it when game is so abundant. Probably
he wanted a change.”
Bob crept through the bushes with surprising
swiftness, and at the end of half an hour had approached
near enough to Dan’s camp to take a good
survey of it. Dan was at home, and he was engaged
in a most pleasing occupation, if one might judge
by the smiles which now and then overspread his
face. He was sitting on a log, which he had rolled
up in front of the fire, holding in one hand a small
tin box, and in the other a package of greenbacks.
He held the bills in all sorts of positions, so that he
could see every side of them. He ran his fingers
over them caressingly, spread them out on his knee,
and then holding them out at arm’s length, turned
his head on one side, and looked at them most lovingly.
Bob, who saw it all from his place of concealment,
was equally interested. He had never
.pn +1
.bn 144.png
seen so large a package of greenbacks before, and
his eyes fairly glistened while he looked at them.
“I had no idea that a hundred and sixty dollars
would make such a big bundle as that,” thought
Bob. “It must be all in small bills. That beggar
looks nice with so much money in his possession,
doesn’t he? But he shan’t have it much longer, for
it is mine. I could have earned it if it hadn’t been
for Don Gordon, and I’ll have it if I have to knock
Dan down to get it.”
Fortunately Bob was saved the trouble of putting
this desperate resolve into execution, for just then a
gray squirrel mounted quickly into the branches of
a hickory a few rods away and set up a shrill bark.
Dan heard him, and Bob judged by his actions that
he had not yet had his breakfast. This was the
fact. Dan had been so excited by the success that
had attended the plans he had laid for securing the
whole of David’s money, and so anxious to get safely
out of his father’s reach and find a secure hiding-place,
that he could not take time to hunt up anything
to eat. He had not had a mouthful for the
last twenty-four hours. He did not even know that
he was hungry; but he found it out during the previous
night, and his raid on Mr. Owens’s hen-roost
.pn +1
.bn 145.png
had been undertaken because he thought he could
not possibly go without something to eat until the
day broke and the squirrels began to stir about.
When Dan heard the barking of the squirrel he
placed the money quickly in the box, put on the
cover, and thrusting it under the log on which he
was sitting, hastily drew a few leaves over it to conceal
it. This done he picked up his rifle which lay
on the ground near him, arose from his seat, and
with noiseless footsteps stole off through the bushes
in the direction from which the barking of the squirrel
sounded. He was out of sight in a few seconds,
and this was the time for Bob, who crept quickly
out of his concealment, and making a wide circuit
around the camp, came up behind the log on which
Dan had been sitting. There he paused a moment
and listened to make sure that Dan was still working
his way toward the squirrel, and then reaching
over the log he ran his hand through the leaves
which the wind had heaped against it, until his fingers
came in contact with the box. With eager
haste he seized it, and when he felt it fairly in his
grasp his heart seemed to stop beating, so elated and
excited was he. He held it with a firm grasp, as if
he feared that it might somehow get away from him,
.pn +1
.bn 146.png
and jumping quickly to his feet, turned his back on
the camp and made off. For a few minutes he was
very cautious in his movements; and then, believing
that Dan was too far away to hear any noise he
might make, he broke into a run. He went at his
best speed, holding a straight course for home, until
the report of a rifle echoing through the woods behind
him caused him to slacken his pace to a rapid
walk.
“Dan hasn’t discovered his loss yet,” said Bob,
“for he has only just shot the squirrel.” He held
the box at arm’s length as he spoke, and after looking
at it affectionately for a few seconds, put it into
his game-bag. “Dan will be back to his camp in a
few minutes, and I would give something to know
how he will act when he finds that his money is
gone. His money! It is mine by right, and now
that I have got it I am going to hold fast to it. I’ll
have a new shot-gun now and a jointed fish-pole in
spite of Don Gordon and Dave Evans.”
Bob reached home in due time and his appearance
there surprised the family, who wanted to know why
he had returned at so early an hour, and
where his game was. Bob replied that one reason
why he had come home was because he was hungry,
having eaten no breakfast that morning; and another
.pn +1
.bn 147.png
was because he had seen no game to shoot
except squirrels, and he had grown tired of hunting.
His mother prepared a breakfast for him, but if he
was hungry his actions did not show it. He was
hardly able to swallow a mouthful; and as soon as
he could do so without running the risk of being
questioned, he arose from the table and left the
house. In order to do this he was obliged to
watch his chance and slip out while there was no
one in the room; for the tin box, which he had
taken the precaution to transfer from his game-bag
to his trousers pocket, stuck out so that when he
stood erect no one could help noticing it. He succeeded
in leaving the house without attracting any
one’s attention, and dodging his father, who was in
front of the shed saddling his horse, he bent his
steps down the lane. There was a log lying on the
fence corner, about half a mile from the house, on
which he had sat and dreamed away many an hour
since he had read that advertisement in the Rod and
Gun, and there Bob stopped to feast his eyes on
the contents of the box and make up his mind how
he was going to spend them.
“The gun will cost me seventy-five dollars,” said
he, as he seated himself on the log, straightened out
his leg and began working the box out of his pocket.
.pn +1
.bn 148.png
“That includes shells, wiping rod, loading tools,
and things of that sort. The primers and ammunition
will cost at least five dollars more. A nice
lancewood bass rod will cost eight dollars, a reel
five dollars, and hooks, lines, sinkers and bobbers—say
two dollars more. That makes ninety-five dollars.
Then I shall need a nice game-bag like Don
Gordon’s, a fish-basket and a hunting-knife, and if
they don’t cost more than five dollars they will be
cheaper than I think they are. Say they will cost
ten; that makes one hundred and five. Now what
shall I do with the other fifty-five? Perhaps I had
better buy a new saddle and bridle. If Lester had
only acted like a white boy I would have bought
some decoys, and he and I could have had high old
times this winter shooting ducks and geese. But
I’ll warrant I’ll find some way to spend the money.”
Bob having by this time succeeded in getting the
box out of his pocket, removed the cover, and after
looking up and down the lane, and before and behind
him, to make sure that there was no one in sight,
he took the bills out and counted them. They were
all there, and having satisfied himself on this point
Bob put them back, replaced the cover and laid the
box down on the log by his side.
.pn +1
.bn 149.png
“Now, where shall I put my money?” thought
he. “I must keep it hid somewhere, for of course
it would be dangerous to let any one know that I
have got it. What would father say to me if he
should find it out?”
Bob suddenly paused, and an expression that it
would be hard to describe settled on his face. The
thought that had just passed through his mind called
up another: If it would be dangerous to let his
father know that he had a hundred and sixty dollars
in his possession, would it not be equally dangerous
to let him see the new shot-gun, fish-pole and other
fine things he intended to purchase with the money?
If Mr. Owens would be curious to know how Bob
had acquired so great and sudden wealth, would he
not be equally anxious to know where the gun and
fishing-rod came from?
“I declare that never occurred to me before,” said
Bob, resting his head on his hands and looking
thoughtfully at the ground. “I am no better off
now than I was when I hadn’t a cent in my pocket.
I can’t enjoy the money now that I have got it.
What in the world am I going to do?”
If there ever was a boy who was in a quandary it
was Bob Owens.
.pn +1
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.pb
.sp 4
.h2 id=ch09
CHAPTER IX || THE RUNAWAY.
.sp 2
.dc 0.0 0.65
“I DECLARE I never thought of that before,”
repeated Bob, after he had spent a quarter of an
hour in thinking the matter over. As was generally
the case when he found himself in trouble, he fell to
abusing his luck, which had not served him a better
turn. “I can’t enjoy this money, now that I have
got it,” said he. “My breech-loader and fishing-rod
are just as far out of my reach as they were a
week ago. If I got them, father would ask a
thousand and one questions: ‘Bob, how came you by
that new gun?’ ‘I bought it.’ ‘Where did you
get the money?’ He would be sure to ask me that,
and what could I say?”
If Bob, while he was tossing restlessly about on
his bed, laying his plans for securing possession of
the hundred and sixty dollars, had only taken time
for a little serious consideration, he would have discovered
that he could not help getting himself into
.pn +1
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just such a dilemma as this; but the truth of the
matter was, he was so eager to get his hands upon
the money that he could think of nothing else. He
had succeeded in his efforts, but the money was of no
more use to him than it would have been to Dan
Evans. True, there was one thing he might do with
it, and that was, restore it to its lawful owner.
This thought did occur to Bob, but he dismissed it
at once.
“I’ll never do that in the world,” said he, almost
fiercely. “If it hadn’t been for Dave and his
friends I might have had money of my own by this
time, and I would have got it, too, in such a way
that I should not be afraid to let everybody know
that I had it. But Dave cheated me out of the
chance, and, sooner than give this money up to him,
I’ll tie a stone to it and sink it in the middle of
the lake. Now is there any way that I can get the
benefit of it? That’s the question.”
And it was one that Bob could not answer for a
long time, for he was fairly at his wit’s end. If he
had acted out his feelings, he would have jumped up
and whooped, and yelled, and pulled his hair, just as
Godfrey did when he told how Dan had cut his
pocket open and stolen the tin box. He felt just
.pn +1
.bn 152.png
like it; but, knowing that he could not mend matters
in that way, he controlled himself as well as he
was able, and sat on his log, and thought about it.
He went without his dinner, and stayed there until
it began to grow dark. By that time he had almost
made up his mind to something.
“If I can’t enjoy my money here, I can enjoy it
somewhere else,” said Bob to himself, as he arose
and walked slowly toward the house, after having
concealed the box under the log on which he had
been sitting.
“Rochdale isn’t the only place in the world. I
have always wanted to go out on the plains, and I
don’t know that I shall ever have a better chance
than I have now. I’ll take time to think about it,
at any rate.”
This soliloquy will serve to indicate the train of
thought that Bob had been following out all the
afternoon. Like many foolish boys, he had often
imagined that he would be much happier than he
was if he were only free from the restraints of home.
He longed to be his own master. He had made
more than one attempt to induce his father to permit
him to go out into the world to seek his fortune, but
Mr. Owens had always refused; and Bob, in one of his
.pn +1
.bn 153.png
angry moods, had told himself that he would go some
day, no matter whether his father was willing or not.
He had read wonderful stories of life on the plains;
of boy-hunters, and trappers, and Indian-fighters,
who had made themselves famous by their deeds of
valor, and Bob, believing every word of it, longed to
be with them, and join in their exciting adventures.
For a year it had been a cherished hope of his that
he might some day see that wild country, and the
brave young bordermen who were supposed to live
there; and when he fell to dreaming about it, as he
often did, he was so completely carried away by his
imagination, that he fancied himself already there
and taking part in the thrilling scenes so graphically
described in his favorite yellow-covered books.
When he came to himself again, his home would
seem more distasteful than ever, and the life he led
there would become almost unbearable. And yet it
is hard to tell why Bob was so dissatisfied with his
lot in life. He had almost everything that any reasonable
boy could ask for; his father and mother
could not have been kinder, and Bob was obliged to
attend school only six months every year, and was
permitted to do nearly as he pleased during the rest
of the time. Perhaps, if he not been allowed so
.pn +1
.bn 154.png
many idle hours it would have been better for him,
for then he would have had less opportunity to
indulge in day-dreaming.
Bob, as we have said, was full of glorious ideas,
and this was one of his pet ones. He never allowed
himself to dwell upon it without becoming highly
excited. He was excited now—as much so as he
was when he first felt David Evans’s money in his
grasp. He had suddenly conceived a violent passion
for the wild, free life of a hunter, and a corresponding
distaste for the quiet comforts and pleasures of his
home. What was there about home, he asked himself,
that should make him desirous of remaining
there? There was no one with whom he could associate,
now that he and Lester were at swords’
points, and the only way in which he could pass the
time was to loiter about the house with nothing in
the world to do. If he went down to the landing he
would be certain to meet some one there who knew
all about that bear fight and the burning of the
shooting-box. More than that, he would probably
see Don and Bert Gordon, who, dressed in their
natty riding-suits and mounted on their stylish ponies,
would canter by, paying no more attention to
him than if he were a crooked stick lying by the
.pn +1
.bn 155.png
roadside. Bob’s own mount was not a very elegant
affair, but it was as good as the most of the boys in
the neighborhood owned. He rode a large, rawboned
horse, which, although a fine traveller, was
by no means a handsome animal, and his saddle and
bridle had been patched so often that there was very
little of the original material left in them.
“Even if everything was all right, I should be
ashamed to go down to the landing any more,” said
Bob to himself. “I look like a beggar beside Don
and Bert Gordon. If I go hunting I must use an
old muzzle-loading gun and a game-bag that Godfrey
Evans would turn up his nose at, and it would
be just my luck to meet those Gordon fellows with
their breech-loaders and hunting-suits, looking as
though they had just come out of a band-box.
They are almost always sure to turn up just when I
don’t want to see them. They act as if they tried
to meet me when they are fixed up in their best, to
let me see how rich they are and how poor I am.
They make it a point, too, to pass me without saying
a word to me.”
This was very far from being the truth. Bob’s
lively imagination, which led him to believe that he
would be happier anywhere else in the world than
.pn +1
.bn 156.png
he was at home, had cheated him into believing
that Don and Bert purposely slighted him. But
they meant to do nothing of the kind. They
always bowed politely and spoke to him every time
they met him, and would have been glad to live on
friendly terms with him, if Bob had only been
willing to let them. But Bob had long had an
idea that not only they, but everybody else in the
settlement, abused him, and when he fell to thinking
about it, he always became angry. He was
angry now and desperate, too.
“I’ll not stay here any longer, to be put upon
and insulted by those who think they are better
than I am; because they have more nice things to
make them happy,” thought Bob, as he slammed
the gate violently behind him. “I’ll end all my
troubles at once, this very night.”
Bob had made up his mind to run away from
home; and having determined upon his course, he
never faltered nor paused for a moment to consider
what might be the consequences of the act. He ate
his supper in sullen silence (he was so irregular in
his habits that no one thought it worth while to ask
him where he had been during the day), and having
satisfied his appetite, put on his hat, and went back
.pn +1
.bn 157.png
to the log in the fence-corner where he had dreamed
away the afternoon. He found the box where he left
it, and after crowding it into his pocket, he returned
to the house. He stopped at the shed on the opposite
side of the road, and when he had made sure that
there was no one to observe his movements, he took
his saddle and bridle down from the peg on which
they hung, and hid them in the tall weeds that grew
in the lane, taking care to mark the spot so that he
could readily find it again. This done, he stole cautiously
along a cross-fence that led to the barn-yard,
and there he found his horse running loose in company
with others belonging to his father. The animal
followed him into the little log building in which
he was always fed, and Bob supplied him with a good
supper of corn.
“You’ve got a long journey to make, Jack, before
you see the sun rise again,” said he, “and you’d
better eat while you have the chance. It will be the
last time you will ever carry me. I hope the next
horse I own will be rather better looking than you
are. I hope, too, that you will carry me to Linwood
in time to catch the first boat that goes up the river,
for I don’t want to stay in Mississippi an hour longer
than I can help!”
.pn +1
.bn 158.png
Bob closed and fastened the door to keep his horse
in and prevent the others from disturbing him at
his meal, and went into the house. Without saying
a word to any member of the family he made
his way into his own room, and set about making
other preparations for his flight. His first care
was to count the money; and having made sure
that none of it had been spirited away, he took
out sixty dollars, which he thought would be enough
to bear his expenses, and put them into his pocket-book,
after carefully wrapping them up in several
pieces of newspaper. After that he produced from
one of the bureau drawers an old buckskin money-belt
that had somehow come into his possession.
In one of the pockets he found a piece of oiled
silk, and in this he wrapped the rest of the money.
“I’ve heard that that is the way travellers do
when they cross the ocean,” said Bob, to himself.
“Steamboats sometimes burn or sink, and
if one has to take to the water, he wants his
money well protected. There are such things as
pickpockets, too, and I don’t intend that they
shall get much out of me.”
As Bob said this he buckled the belt around
his waist, under his clothing, and went into his
.pn +1
.bn 159.png
closet after a valise. He brought it out and looked
at it with undisguised contempt. It was in good
order, but it was old-fashioned, and looked very
unlike the neat travelling-bag Don Gordon carried
when he went to visit his friends in Memphis. It
was the only article of the kind that Bob owned,
however, and after telling himself that he would
throw it away as soon as he had an opportunity
to buy another, he went into his closet again to
bring out the clothing he intended to take with
him. “Here’s something else I shall throw
away,” said Bob, as he folded up his Sunday coat
and pushed it into the valise. “I’ll throw away
all these clothes when I reach the plains, for then
I am going to dress in buckskin, the way the rest
of the hunters do. But the plains are a long way
off yet; it will take some time to reach them,
and some time longer to capture and cure the
skins I shall need to make me a complete suit;
so I’ll take two suits with me, in order to have a
change in case of emergency.”
Bob selected the best he had, and when he had
crowded into the valise all that it would hold, he
closed and locked it, putting the key into his
pocket. The valise he hid under the bed, so that
.pn +1
.bn 160.png
it would not be seen by any one who might chance
to come into his room. By this time it was nine
o’clock, and Bob thought he had better go to bed.
He did not go out into the sitting-room again,
for the family were all there and he did not want
to see them. He wanted to be alone, so that he
could think about the glorious life upon which he
was so soon to enter. He did not care if he
never saw any of his relatives again. That was
what he thought then, but before many days had
passed over his head he would have given the
whole world, had it been his to give, if he could
have exchanged just a word with one of them.
Bob settled himself snugly in his comfortable
bed, but he did not go to sleep. He was afraid
that if he did he might sleep too long, and he
had so much to think about that it was no trouble
for him to keep awake. He heard the clock in
an adjoining room strike every hour until midnight,
and then he arose and prepared for action. It
was the work of but a few minutes for him to
put on his clothes and lower himself and his valise
out of the window to the ground, and he did it
without disturbing any of the family. In half an
hour more he had saddled his horse, which he led
.pn +1
.bn 161.png
out into the lane through a gap in the fence he
made for the purpose (he was afraid to lead the
horse through the gate, for it was close to the
house, and the sound of the animal’s hoofs might
have aroused somebody), and had put nearly a
mile between himself and his home. He left it
and the settlement without a single feeling of
regret, but still he could not help taking note of
the familiar objects on which his eyes rested as
he galloped along, and which he never expected to
see again. Here was the tall pecan tree which
he and Don Gordon and Joe Packard, in the days
when they were better friends than they were now,
had visited regularly every autumn to gather the
nuts that so plentifully covered the ground, and
from whose topmost branches Bob had brought
down the only fox squirrel he had ever seen.
There were the ruins of the bee-tree that he and
the same boys had cut down, and from which they
had secured a tubful of the finest honey. Off to
the right was the little maple grove where he and
the Gordon and Packard boys had once camped
for more than a week and played at making maple
sugar. Farther on was the landing; and there was
the post-office with the old, weather-beaten boxes
.pn +1
.bn 162.png
on which he had so often sat on mail days and
awaited the arrival of the carrier, ranged in a row
in front of it. Other boys would sit there in the
days to come, as he had done in the days gone by,
and Dave Evans would come dashing down the main
street at the top of his speed, just as the old carrier
had done, and throw off the mail-bag with a
shout, and Silas Jones would pick it up and hurry
into the store with it, and not one of them would
ever give a thought to himself or ask where Bob
Owens was now.
“No, sir,” said Bob, bitterly, “there’s no one
here who cares whether I live or die. If I had
been rich I would have had more friends than I
wanted.”
The main street was deserted, and the landing
looked gloomy enough when seen by the light of
the moon, which just now began to emerge from
behind the thick clouds that had hitherto obscured
it. Bob had time to take only one glance at it
as he flew along, and in a moment more it was
hidden from his sight by the little grove in which
were held the shooting-matches that came off nearly
every week in Rochdale at this season of the year.
Bob could not forget the many happy hours he
.pn +1
.bn 163.png
had spent in that same grove, and he turned more
than once in his saddle to look at it. It was the
last familiar object he would see along the road,
and in leaving it behind he seemed to be severing
the last link that bound him to his home. He
kept it in sight as long as he could, but a bend
in the road presently hid it from his view. Then
Bob faced about in his saddle, dismissed all thoughts
of the pleasures and comforts he was leaving behind,
and speedily became absorbed in dreaming of the
new scenes and new adventures that awaited him
in the wild country toward which he was hastening.
Bob was bound, in the first place, for Linwood, a
little landing about the size of Rochdale, situated
twenty-five miles further up the river. He had
never been there—in fact, he had never been
so far away from home in his life—and all he
knew about the place was, that the road which ran
along the river bank was the shortest route that led
to it, and that steamboats stopped there whenever
a signal was displayed upon the bank to indicate that
there were passengers or freight for them. Bob
intended to remain at Linwood until he could board
some steamer bound up the river. Where he would
.pn +1
.bn 164.png
go after that, and what he would do, he didn’t
know. He had not yet taken time to think of it.
Bob kept his horse in a steady gallop for an hour
or more, and then, believing that he had placed a safe
distance between himself and his home, he allowed
the animal to slacken his pace to a walk. His progress
was very slow after that. Besides, as soon as
the moon went down it became pitch dark, and Bob,
on one or two occasions, got bewildered by turning
into a log-road, and never discovered his mistake
until he found himself in the thick woods. He went
a long distance out of his way, and was delayed more
than three hours. It was nine o’clock when he
came within sight of Linwood.
It was about this time that Bob met the first person
he had seen during his journey. It was a
horseman, and Bob passed him a mile below the
landing. The man looked sharply at Bob’s nag,
which walked with his head down as if he were wearied
with his night’s journey, then stared hard at
the boy, and drew in his reins as if he were about to
stop and speak to him. Bob, however, did not
want any conversation with him, so he put his horse
into a gallop, and went on his way; but the keen
glances which the stranger had bestowed upon
.pn +1
.bn 165.png
himself and his steed excited his curiosity, and,
when he had gone a few rods, he turned in his saddle
and looked back. To his surprise he saw that
the man had stopped his horse in the middle of the
road, and was also looking back. He did not turn
away his head and move on, as people generally do
when they are caught in the act of observing
another’s movements, but kept his eyes fastened
upon the boy, as if he had resolved to see where he
was going and what he intended to do. Bob became
uneasy at once.
“Who is that?” thought he, and, as he asked
himself the question, he hurriedly recalled the names
of all the planters with whom he was acquainted
who bore any resemblance to the man he had just
passed. “I am sure I don’t know who he is, but he
must know who I am. If he does not, why did he
look at me so sharply, and pull up his horse as if
he was going to say something to me? He’s there
yet,” added Bob, once more turning about in his
saddle, and looking behind him.
Yes, the man was there yet, and, more than that,
he stayed there as long as Bob was in sight of him.
The runaway, who grew more and more uneasy
every minute, faced about, now and then, to look at
.pn +1
.bn 166.png
him, and when he turned down the road that led to
the little cluster of houses on the river bank, the man
turned his own horse, and rode slowly after him.
When Bob came around the bend in the road, he
saw all there was of the little settlement of Linwood.
He noticed that, in some respects, it was like Rochdale.
It could boast of but one street, and that led
from somewhere back in the country, straight
through the town (if such it could be called) to a
long shed on the bank, which Bob was glad to see
was filled with bags of shelled corn. He was glad
to see it, for he knew that the corn was awaiting
shipment, and that the first boat that went up
the river would be signaled to stop and take it
aboard.
The settlement consisted of the store, in which the
post-office was located, a shoemaker’s and blacksmith’s
shop, and one or two private residences, all
of which were built on one side of the street. The
store was the most imposing building, and, like the
one in Rochdale, was the headquarters of all the
idlers in the country for miles around. The proprietor
had good-naturedly provided for their comfort
and accommodation, by placing a row of empty dry-goods
boxes in front of his door for them to sit on,
.pn +1
.bn 167.png
and, when Bob came in sight, every box was occupied.
Hearing the sound of his horse’s feet, one of the
idlers looked up, said something in a low tone to his
companions, and, an instant afterward, a dozen pairs
of eyes were fastened upon Bob, as if they meant to
look him through.
.pn +1
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.pb
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.h2 id=ch10
CHAPTER X || BOB’S FIRST ADVENTURE.
.sp 2
.dc 0.0 0.65
“I WONDER if they never saw a white boy and a
spotted horse before,” thought Bob, who could not
bear to have any one stare at him. “I hope they
will know me the next time they see me!”
He rode to a rack on the opposite side of the street
where the horses belonging to the idlers were hitched,
and after dismounting and tying his own animal, he
took the valise down from the horn of his saddle, where
it had hung during the journey, and crossed over to
the sidewalk. He bowed and wished the idlers good-morning,
as he passed through their ranks, but they
only stared at him the harder; and Bob, wondering
at their rudeness, kept on and went into the store.
A boy about his own age, who was standing in the
door, and whom Bob took to be the clerk, for he had
a pen behind his ear, and a pair of scissors sticking
out of his vest pocket, made room for him to pass,
and one of the men on the sidewalk arose from his
.pn +1
.bn 169.png
box and followed him in. This was the proprietor,
as Bob afterward learned.
“Mornin’, stranger,” said he. “What kin I do
fur ye?”
“Good-morning, sir,” answered Bob. “Is there
any place about here where I can have my horse fed,
and get a good breakfast for myself?”
“Been a travellin’ a good piece, I reckon, aint
ye?” said the man. “Yer creetur looks kinder leg-weary.”
“Yes, he and I are both tired. We have come
from Rochdale since midnight.”
“Came right peart, I reckon, didn’t ye?”
“I didn’t waste any time, for I want to catch the
first boat that goes up the river,” replied Bob. “Do
you expect one along soon? I see there is a good
deal of freight on the bank.”
“Wal, I dunno how soon she’ll come, but we’ll
stop her when she does come.”
Hearing the sound of footsteps behind him, Bob,
who had thus far stood with his back to the door,
turned round, and saw that about half the idlers had
followed him into the store, and ranged themselves
in front of the counter as if they wanted to hear
what passed between Bob and the proprietor, while
.pn +1
.bn 170.png
the other half had crossed to the opposite side of the
road and were gathered about his horse, which they
appeared to be examining with a great deal of interest.
While Bob was looking at them, one of the men
pointed to a spot on the horse’s flank and struck his
open hand with his fist, as if he were emphasizing
something he was saying.
“We sometimes do fur hungry folks what come
here to ketch boats,” said the grocer. “We done
had our grub long ago, but I reckon mebbe Betsy
can fix ye up suthin’. I’ll go an’ see.”
As the man said this he took Bob’s valise from his
hand, and disappeared with it through a door in the
rear of the store. He was gone about five minutes,
and when he came out he announced that Betsy would
have some breakfast ready very shortly, and while
she was preparing it, he and Bob would put the
horse in the stable and feed him. Bob followed him
across the street, and while he was unhitching the
animal the grocer stood by and gave him a good
looking over. “Whar did ye get this creetur, stranger?”
he asked at length.
“My father raised him,” was the reply. “He
has never had any owner but me.”
“An’ what might yer name be?”
.pn +1
.bn 171.png
“Owens.”
“An’ whar might ye hang out when yer to hum?”
“Two miles east of Rochdale.”
“Why couldn’t ye take a boat thar as well as
here?” asked the man, looking steadily into Bob’s
face.
“Because I had some business to transact a few
miles below here, and I could save time by coming
to Linwood,” answered the boy, without the least
hesitation. “I should have lost a day or two if I
had gone back to Rochdale.”
“Yer goin’ up the river, ye say: how fur?”
“St. Louis.”
“How long ye goin’ to be gone?”
“A week or two, at least.”
“Want me to keep yer horse fur ye till ye come
back, I reckon, don’t ye?”
“O, no. As soon as he has finished his breakfast
I’ll put the saddle on him, tie the bridle fast to it so
that it can’t fall off, and turn him loose. He’ll find
his way home all right.”
While this conversation was going on Bob had followed
the man through a pair of bars, that gave entrance
into a yard in the rear of the store, and into a
shed where there was a long trough, with a couple of
.pn +1
.bn 172.png
rope halters made fast to it. Bob put one of these
halters on his horse, after relieving him of the saddle
and bridle, saw him supplied with a good breakfast
of corn, and then followed the man back to the house
and into the kitchen, where a woman, whom Bob
took to be the Betsy of whom his host had spoken,
was busy laying the table, and superintending the
cooking of some ham and eggs. In compliance with
a signal, conveyed by the wave of the man’s hand, Bob
took possession of the nearest chair, while the man
himself went out into the store, closing the door behind
him. The latch, however, did not hold, and the
door swung open two or three inches. Bob scarcely
noticed this at the time it occurred, but his attention
was called to it in a very few minutes.
The woman who was preparing breakfast did not
prove to be very sociable, for she never spoke to her
guest (although the boy more than once caught her
in the act of staring very hard at him), until she
had placed the ham and eggs on the table, and
then she invited him rather curtly to “set up.”
After that, as if she considered that she had done
her whole duty, she went into another room and
shut the door behind her, leaving Bob to wait on
himself.
.pn +1
.bn 173.png
“These are the queerest people I ever saw,”
thought the boy, as he drew his chair to the table.
“They act as if they don’t want me here; and
if that is the case, why don’t they say so? This
isn’t the only house in the settlement at which I
can obtain a breakfast. Perhaps they are Yankees,
and afraid that they won’t get pay for what I
eat.”
Bob was too hungry to follow out this train of
thought any farther. He devoted himself entirely
to the viands before him, and had just poured out
a second cup of coffee and helped himself to a second
egg, when his attention was attracted by the
sound of voices in the store. He distinctly heard
his own name pronounced, and after listening for
a few moments he caught some words that made
his cheek blanch. The men in the store must
have been excited about something, for they talked
in pretty loud tones, and every syllable they uttered
came plainly to Bob’s ears through the open door.
“Wal, Aleck, what does he have to say fur himself?”
asked a voice.
“He says his name is Owens, an’ that he lives
two mile from Rochdale,” Bob heard his host
answer.
.pn +1
.bn 174.png
“So’s my grandmother’s name Owens,” said the
one who had first spoken. “I tell you, Aleck, he’s
the fellow we have been a lookin’ fur, an’ you, bein’
a justice, had oughter make out a warrant at once.”
“’Pears like he’s mighty bold to bring the hoss
back here where he b’longs,” said another. “He’s a
powerful peart, honest-lookin’ boy, too.”
“Mebbe it aint the hoss we think it is,” said the
grocer. “He says his pap raised him, and seems to
me he don’t look like Tom’s lost creetur, nuther.”
“Wal, we’ll know in a few minutes, fur Tom will
be here directly. Sam’s jest gone arter him. What
brung this boy up here, any how?”
“He’s goin’ to St. Louis. He tells a mighty
straight story, but thar’s one thing about it that
don’t look jest right to me. Arter the hoss has
done got through eatin’, he’s goin’ to put the saddle
onto him an’ turn him loose to find his own way
back to his hum.”
“Aha!” exclaimed one of the idlers, whose voice
Bob had not heard before. “That shows that the
creetur don’t b’long to him. If he did, he’d take
better care on him nor that. Somebody would be
sartin to pick the hoss up for a stray afore he had
gone a mile. Here comes Tom, now.”
.pn +1
.bn 175.png
Bob heard a shuffling of feet, as if the idlers were
moving in a body toward the door, then some subdued
words of greeting, followed by more stamping
of feet, which gradually died away as the men moved
off together. Presently, Bob heard the sound of
voices in the back yard, and rising from his chair he
stepped to a window and looked out. He saw a
dozen men there, and they were walking toward the
stable. When they reached it the grocer went in
and brought out Bob’s horse, and the others gathered
about him and examined him closely. When their
investigations were concluded the animal was led
back into the stable again and the men came toward
the house.
“Why, I really believe they take me for a horse-thief,”
thought Bob, and the idea amused him.
“Thank goodness, I am not as bad as that. I expect
to steal horses from the Indians some day—Wild
Bill and Texas Jack and all those fellows do
it, and there’s no harm in it; but I’ll never steal
from a white man. I only hope I shall be lucky
enough to find the Comanche chief who rides that
white pacer. He’s the horse I’ve got my eye on,
and he’s worth having, for he is so swift that he can
.pn +1
.bn 176.png
beat anything on the prairie out of sight in a five-mile
race.”
Bob, who was not at all disturbed by the knowledge
that the grocer and his friends suspected him
of being anything but an honest boy, walked back
to his seat at the table and helped himself to another
egg. A few seconds later the men entered the store
and Bob heard the clerk inquire:
“Well, Tom, is it your horse?”
“No; but he looks enough like him to be his
brother,” was the reply.
“There!” said Bob, to himself. “I hope they
are satisfied now.”
“Don’t make no difference whether it’s Tom’s
hoss or not,” said a voice, which Bob afterward found
belonged to the constable. “That thar boy is no
good; if he was, he would not want to turn that
creetur loose to find his way back to his hum, twenty-five
miles away. Bein’ a suspicioned person we
have a right to know all about him. You say,
Aleck, that he come up here to see somebody on
business. Who was it, an’ what was his business?”
“I dunno,” answered the grocer. “I didn’t
think to ask him about that.”
“Wal, we’d best find out about it. Thar’s some
.pn +1
.bn 177.png
hoss-thief or another some whar about here, an’ if
this chap is the feller, we’d oughter hold fast to him
now that we have got him. It won’t be no trouble
at all to take him back to Rochdale an’ see if anybody
thar knows him, an’ if he’s all right he won’t
mind goin’ there with me.”
These were the words that made Bob’s cheek
blanch. His heart began to beat rapidly, and his
hand trembled, as he put down his cup of coffee.
He saw, now, that it was not so very amusing, after
all, to be suspected of being a horse-thief. He certainly
would mind going back to Rochdale. It was
the very place that he wanted to keep away from.
“What in the world would I say to my father, if
I allowed myself to be taken back there?” thought
Bob, who was now seriously alarmed. “What could
I say to him? What reason could I give for leaving
home during the night, and riding off through the
country for twenty-five miles? I tell you, if I was
only back there, I’d stay; but the trouble is, I can’t
go back without letting everybody know that I ran
away. Of course, all the folks in the settlement
will find it out some day, but I don’t want to see
them after they do find it out.”
Once more Bob was in a quandary, but he was not
.pn +1
.bn 178.png
long in discovering, as he thought, a way to get out
of it. While he was looking all around the room,
as if seeking some way of escape, his eye fell upon
his valise, which the grocer had placed upon a chair
in the corner. The sight of it suggested something
to him. Hastily snatching up his cap, he crossed
the floor with noiseless steps, seized the valise, and
hurried to the door which led into the back yard.
He opened it very carefully, stepped quickly across
the threshold, and found himself confronted by a tall
fellow, dressed in butternut clothes, who stood leaning
against the fence, whittling the top rail with his
knife, and whistling, softly, to himself. Something
told Bob that the man had been stationed there to
watch him, and, at first, he did not know whether to
go back into the house or keep on toward the stable,
where he had left his horse; but, after a moment’s
reflection, he decided that the boldest course was the
best, and so he closed the door and walked off. He
tried to look unconcerned, but his face was pale, and
he trembled in every limb. The sequel proved that
he had cause for uneasiness, for, before he had made
a dozen steps, the man of the fence called out:
“Wal, I say! Hold up, thar!”
Bob’s first impulse was, to take to his heels, but
.pn +1
.bn 179.png
he thought better of it, and obeyed the man’s command
to “hold up!” “What do you want?” he
asked.
“Wal, nothing much, now, only we don’t want
you to go away without saying good-by; that’s all.”
“Why don’t you want me to go away?” asked
Bob.
“’Kase why, for a reason. We want to know
something about that hoss of your’n first.”
“The proprietor of the store already knows all I
have to tell about both myself and my horse,” returned
Bob.
“Wal, it don’t just suit us,” said the man, shutting
up his knife and putting it into his pocket.
“The constable has been waiting for you to get done
your breakfast, and then he’s going to ride down to
Rochdale with you. If you live thar you must have
friends who can vouch for you.”
“But I don’t want to go back to Rochdale,” exclaimed
Bob. “It will delay me, and I can’t afford
to waste any time.”
“It needn’t delay you longer than to-morrow.
Let’s go round where the boys are.”
The “boys” were the idlers, whom Bob and his
captor found sitting on the dry-goods boxes in front
of the store. One of them, a fat, red-faced, jolly-looking
.pn +1
.bn 180.png
man, arose from his seat as the boy came up,
and, placing one hand on his shoulder, remarked,
that he should be obliged to hold him, in the name
of the law, until Bob could satisfy him that he was
all right, and that he had come honestly by the
horse he had brought into the settlement that morning.
Bob hardly heard a word the officer said to
him, for he was too nearly overcome with bewilderment
and alarm to hear anything. Besides, he was
thinking too busily; trying to conjure up some plan
for bringing himself safely out of this, the worst difficulty
he had ever been in. He had longed for a
life of excitement and adventure, but he had not
looked for it to begin before he had been twelve
hours away from home. It looked, now, as though
his first adventure was destined to be his last. It
certainly would be, if he allowed the constable to
take him back to Rochdale.
Having performed his duty, and placed Bob under
arrest, the officer for the next half hour paid no
attention to his prisoner. He returned to his seat
on the dry-goods box, and talked with his friends
about the crops and the weather, leaving Bob to
commune undisturbed with his own gloomy thoughts,
and to stand or sit, as he pleased. The idlers improved
.pn +1
.bn 181.png
the opportunity thus presented to stare hard
at the supposed horse-thief, and Bob was greatly
relieved when the constable, having at last talked
himself dry of words, arose from his box with the
remark, that he reckoned they had better go home.
Bob gladly obeyed the order to pick up his valise and
follow him; and as they walked toward the officer’s
house, which was located on the main road, about
half a mile from the landing, he began to make
some inquiries regarding the treatment he might
expect: for this was a matter that troubled him not
a little. To his great joy and surprise, he found
that, if he was willing to behave himself, he would
be placed under very little restraint. The constable
said he could not go to Rochdale with him that
day, as he had some important business of his own
to attend to, but he would start with him early in
the morning, and, if Bob could prove to his satisfaction
that he was an honest traveller, as he represented
himself to be, he would be very glad of it.
Meanwhile, as there was no “cooler” in the settlement
to put him into for safe-keeping, Bob must
remain under the eye of the constable all the time.
If he would promise to make no attempt at escape,
he would be allowed the free use of his hands and
.pn +1
.bn 182.png
feet; but, if he would not make that promise, he
(the officer) would be obliged to put a pair of handcuffs
on him. Bob’s blood ran cold at the mere
mention of such a thing. He hastened to give the
required promise, adding emphasis to it by declaring
that the sooner he was allowed an opportunity to
show that the good people of Linwood were badly
mistaken in him, the better he would like it. The
constable seemed entirely satisfied, and from that
moment scarcely looked at his prisoner. Probably
he thought that, because Bob was a boy, he had
nothing to fear from him.
Bob accompanied the officer wherever he went during
the day, but he did so with apparent willingness
and without wailing to be told. He spent the most of
the time in the woods, where the constable had some
negroes employed in getting out timber for him, and
on two occasions the latter went over a ridge where
his ox-teams were at work, leaving Bob to himself
for more than an hour each time. “I wonder what
he will do with me when night comes,” Bob asked
himself over and over again. “He must watch me
closer than he does now or I may be missing before
daylight. I’ll not go back to Rochdale if I can help
it. I’ll risk anything first.”
.pn +1
.bn 183.png
When Bob went to the officer’s house that night
he was treated more like a guest than a prisoner.
The constable’s wife said nothing to indicate that she
knew he was under arrest, and when supper was over
Bob was surprised to hear the man remark that he
believed he would go down to the store for an hour
or two, and see what was going on there. He went,
and did not return until nearly ten o’clock. Then
he began to make some preparations for the safe-keeping
of his captive during the night, but they did not
amount to much, and Bob’s heart beat high with
hope. The officer simply drew a settee into the
front room, and placed it opposite the sofa, which
stood on the other side of the fire-place. “I am going
to sleep here,” said he, “and when you get tired
you can lie down there.”
Suiting the action to the word the officer stretched
himself upon the settee, and in less than ten minutes
was soundly asleep. Bob sat in an easy-chair
by the fire and looked at him; and as he looked he
fell to thinking of the wonderful exploits of some of
his favorite heroes, and comparing his present situation
with those in which they had so often been
placed. They always succeeded in bringing themselves
safely out of the most desperate scrapes.
.pn +1
.bn 184.png
Even when they were tied to the stake by their savage
foes, they found means to outwit them and effect
their escape. Wild Bill and Texas Jack would
laugh to find themselves in a predicament like this
Bob was in, and if he was ever going to be as famous
as those two men were, it was high time he was
making a beginning. While Bob’s thoughts ran
along in this channel he narrowly watched the slumbering
officer, and finally calling all his courage to
his aid, he picked up his hat and valise, opened the
door, and stepped out on the porch. There he
paused for a moment to make sure that the way was
clear, and then, after taking a parting glance at the
constable, he closed the door and ran toward the
landing. It was after eleven o’clock, and the streets
were entirely deserted.
A few minutes’ rapid running brought Bob to the
store. Here he became very cautious in his movements,
for he knew that the grocer and his family
occupied the rear portion of the building. He
climbed over the bars through which he had led his
horse in the morning, and made his way toward the
shed at the end of the lot. He found his horse
there, and the animal appeared to be glad to see him,
for he welcomed him with a low whinny of recognition.
.pn +1
.bn 185.png
“I never expected to mount you again, old fellow;
but you must carry me a little farther on my
way up the river, and then you must go home. I
wish I could go with you,” said Bob, who was more
than satisfied with his short experience with the ways
of the world. “If I could only go back without
letting folks know that I ran away, I’d start this
minute.”
While Bob was talking thus to himself he was
busy putting the saddle and bridle on his horse; and
when that had been done, he opened his valise and
took from it a suit of clothes, which he proceeded to
put on with all possible haste. He knew that his
flight would be taken as evidence of guilt, and that
every effort would be made to recapture him; so he
thought it best to disguise himself as well as he could
by putting on another hat and exchanging his gray
suit for a black one.
“I am going to get as many miles away from Linwood
as I can between this and daylight,” said Bob
to himself, “and then, as I can’t disguise my horse,
I’ll turn him loose, and go on to the next landing on
foot. Hallo! what’s that?”
Bob happened to be looking through the stable
door toward the shed on the bank under which the
.pn +1
.bn 186.png
bags of corn were stored, and saw a bright flame
suddenly arise from behind it. Wondering what
could be the cause of it, he stepped to the door to
take a nearer view, and distinctly heard the pounding
made by the paddle-wheels of an approaching
steamer. “It is a signal,” thought he. “There is
a boat coming up, and the owner of that corn wants
her to land and take it aboard. Now, if I can get
on to her deck without being recognised I shall be
all right.”
The approach of the steamer brought about a
change in Bob’s programme. He hastily finished
dressing himself, bundled the clothes he had taken
off into his valise, and seizing his horse by the bridle
led him around the stable out of sight of the house.
There he found a low fence which ran between the
yard and an adjoining field. His horse easily
jumped over it, and Bob led him toward the nearest
piece of woods, looking back now and then to make
sure that he was keeping the stable between himself
and any one who might happen to be passing along
the road toward the landing. When the dark shadows
of the trees hid him from view, he turned
toward the road, threw down a portion of the fence,
and led his horse through the gap. Just then the
.pn +1
.bn 187.png
hoarse whistle of the steamer indicated that her pilot
had seen the signal fire.
“Good-by, Jack,” said Bob, choking down something
that seemed to be rising in his throat, and
patting the horse’s glossy neck as he spoke. “I am
sorry I have abused you, Jack, and thought so little
of you because you are not handsome and stylish
like Don Gordon’s pony. I wish I could take back
every blow I ever struck you. If I could go back
with you, old fellow, you would have better treatment
than you ever had before; but I must leave
you now, and you must find your way home as best
you can.”
Bob, however, did not leave the horse then nor
for half an hour afterward. He could not bear to
part with him. He led him into the bushes out of
sight of the road, took off his bridle, so that he could
eat on the way home if he became hungry, and then
stood with his arm around the animal’s neck and his
cheek resting against his mane. In the meantime
the steamer came up to the landing and began taking
on the freight that was stored under the shed.
Presently the sound of her bell awoke Bob from his
reverie.
.pn +1
.bn 188.png
.pb
.sp 4
.h2 id=ch11
CHAPTER XI || THE CUB PILOT.
.sp 2
.dc 0.2 0.65
IF the dumb brute at his side had been a human
being, capable of understanding and appreciating
his feelings, Bob would not have parted from him with
greater reluctance. But there was no help for it.
The ringing of the steamer’s bell indicated that the
freight was nearly all aboard, and the next time it
rang, which would be in a very few minutes, it would
sound the signal for casting off the lines. Bob had
purposely remained away from the boat as long as
he could, for he knew that he would run something
of a risk in attempting to board her. What if the
constable had discovered his absence and was watching
for him at the landing? Or what if some of
the numerous idlers he had seen at the store in the
morning should happen to be there and recognise
him in spite of his disguise? Bob was obliged to
take his chances on this; and for fear that the boat
.pn +1
.bn 189.png
might be searched, in case his escape had been discovered,
he thought it best to keep away from her
until she was ready to back out into the stream.
She was getting ready to do it now.
The first stroke of the bell seemed to put new life
into Bob. He led his horse into the road, turned
his head toward home, and giving him a parting slap
to put him in motion, threw his valise over his shoulder,
and ran toward the landing at the top of his
speed. He hurried down the main street just as
any honest traveller would have done who was a little
behind time, and while on the way told himself that
if it were only as dark at the landing as it was there
in the road, he could effect his escape without the
least difficulty. But the landing-place was lighted
up so brilliantly that objects could be plainly distinguished
for a hundred yards around. The huge
fire which had brought the boat to the shore was
kept well supplied with resinous wood, and in addition
to that there was a flaming torch on the steamer’s
forecastle. In boarding the vessel Bob would be
obliged to pass along the gang-plank in the full glare
of both these lights, and in plain view of every man
who might happen to be at the landing. His courage
almost failed him when he thought of it; and
.pn +1
.bn 190.png
perhaps if he had not just then recalled some of the
thrilling scenes in the lives of his favorite bordermen,
Wild Bill and Texas Jack, he would have
turned back.
“They wouldn’t turn back if they were in my
place,” said Bob, to himself. “The more danger
there was in any undertaking, the better they liked
it. I am in danger now, and it is a good time to
show what I am made of.”
With this thought to encourage him Bob kept on
toward the shed in which the corn was stored—or
rather in which it had been stored, for he saw that
there were not more than half a dozen bags of it
remaining. He saw, too, that there were several
men standing near the fire. Some of them he put
down as steamboat men, and in the others he was
sure he recognised some of the idlers he had seen
at the store that morning. But he did not take a
second look in order to satisfy himself on this point.
He turned his head partly away from them, and
passing through the shed fell in between two of the
deck-hands who were going up the gang-plank with
bags of corn on their shoulders. The nearer he approached
to the end of the plank, the easier he
breathed; but just as he was about to step on the
.pn +1
.bn 191.png
steamer’s deck, he happened to look toward the man
who was standing under the torch beside the clerk,
checking the bags as they came aboard, and was almost
ready to drop when he saw that it was the
horseman he had met in the morning—the one who
had stopped in the road and watched his movements
so closely. The man looked at him as he stepped
upon the forecastle, but did not appear to recognise
him; and Bob, trembling all over with apprehension,
hurried on past the stairs that led to the boiler
deck, and made his way through the engine-room to
the after-guard. There were some boxes piled
there, and Bob quickly concealed himself behind
them.
“I did it, didn’t I?” said he, drawing a long breath
of relief. “Five minutes more will tell the story.
If I am allowed to go in peace, so much the better
for me; but if that constable comes down here to
search the boat, I’ll take to the water. He is not
going to carry me back to Rochdale. That much is
settled.”
Bob had been in his concealment scarcely more
than five minutes when the bell sounded the signal
for letting go the lines. The steamer began to move
almost immediately, one engine working forward and
.pn +1
.bn 192.png
the other backward to throw her bow away from the
bank. Then Bob felt perfectly at his ease. He
arose from his hiding-place and leaned over the rail
to take a farewell view of the little settlement which
would always be associated in his mind with the most
unpleasant incidents of his life. The first person on
whom his eyes rested was the owner of the corn—the
man who checked the bags as they came aboard.
He seemed to be looking directly at the runaway,
and as it was not yet too late for him to hail the
steamer and bring her back to the shore, Bob thought
it would be a good plan to get out of his sight. Besides,
some of the officers or deck-hands might have occasion
to come back there, and what would they say to
him if they found him hidden away among the boxes?
He did not want to attract any attention if he could
help it, so he picked up his valise and made his way
toward the forward part of the vessel. He stopped
for a few minutes in the engine-room to watch the
working of the machinery, and was walking slowly
along the main deck when he was startled by
the sound of a commotion on the forecastle. There
was a hurrying of feet, accompanied by loud cries of
“Stop her! stop her!” and then a body of men,
composed of officers, passengers and deck-hands,
.pn +1
.bn 193.png
rushed to the port side of the forecastle and looked
over into the water.
“There’s a man overboard, cap’in!” shouted the
mate, looking up at the master of the steamer, who
was standing on the hurricane deck, “and he’s going
right under the wheel. Stop her!”
Just then, a gentleman came down the stairs from
the boiler-deck, in two jumps, and ran quickly to the
side. “Who is it?” he exclaimed.
“Georgie Ackerman!” replied a dozen voices, in
concert.
“And he can’t swim a stroke!” cried the gentleman,
throwing off his coat and hat. “Neither can
I; but I will save him or go down with him. There
he is! I see his head!”
Bob saw it, too, and in an instant afterward he was
in the water beside it. Securing a firm hold of the man’s
long hair, he raised his head from the water so that
he could breathe, and swam with him away from the
steamer. He knew he was in no danger of being
drawn under the wheel, for it was working backward,
and that, in some degree, counteracted the
force of the current. The real peril to be apprehended
was, that the steamer, which was rapidly
swinging around, might run over him, and force
.pn +1
.bn 194.png
him down under the water. In order to avoid this,
Bob, who had all his wits about him, swam with his
utmost speed until he was out of the influence of the
eddy caused by the wheel, and then he struck the
current, and was carried down the stream at the
rate of four miles an hour.
The man floundered and struggled desperately at
first, making blind clutches at the empty air, and
trying to turn about so that he could take hold of
Bob, and it was all the latter could do to manage
him. But after he had recovered his breath, wiped
the water from his face, and brushed the hair out of
his eyes, he became calmer, and gave Bob the first
opportunity he had had to see what he looked like.
The steamer’s torch had by this time been transferred
from the starboard to the port side of the forecastle,
and by the aid of the light it threw out Bob
saw that the person he had rescued was not a man,
but a boy about his own age. He felt much easier
after he made this discovery. He was afraid of a
drowning man, but he did not doubt his ability to
manage almost any boy of his own size in the water.
“Say, you!” exclaimed Bob, shifting his grasp
from the boy’s hair to his collar, and giving him a
little shake to stir up his ideas.
.pn +1
.bn 195.png
“All right!” was the reply. “Who are you?
Anybody I know? I don’t recognise your voice.”
Bob was so surprised at the calmness with which
the boy spoke, that he did not answer immediately.
“I hope you have got a good hold of me, whoever
you are,” continued the boy; “for if you let go I
shall go down like a chunk of lead. I can’t swim.”
“Well, can you understand what I say to you?”
“O, yes! I am not frightened now.”
“You are a cool one! that’s a fact,” said Bob.
“Now, don’t kick and thrash about any more, for
that makes it hard for me to keep you afloat. Remember,
that every portion of your body that is out
of the water helps to sink you, while that which is
in the water helps to buoy you up. So keep your
arms by your side, and throw back your head. That
will give you the best chance to breathe. They’ll
send a boat after us directly.”
“I wish they would do it now,” said the boy, who
implicitly obeyed every one of Bob’s orders. “If
they let us stay in this current much longer they
will find us at New Orleans. I don’t want to go
there unless I can go in my boat.”
“Do you belong on the steamer?”
“Yes; I am the cub pilot!”
.pn +1
.bn 196.png
.if h
.il fn=p192.jpg w=600px
.ca
Saving Georgie Ackerman’s Life.
.ca-
.if-
.if t
.sp 2
[Illustration: Saving Georgie Ackerman’s Life.]
.sp 2
.if-
.pn +1
.bn 197.png
.pn +1
.bn 198.png
“I say, George!” shouted a voice.
The boys looked up when they heard the hail, and
saw that the strong current had already carried them
a hundred and fifty yards below the steamer, whose
bow was swinging around toward the landing again.
On her hurricane deck were a group of men, one of
whom was the captain. He it was who had hailed
the young pilot.
“I say, George!” repeated the captain, “who is
that in the water with you?”
“I am sure I don’t know,” said George, in a low
tone. “Who are you, fellow?”
“I am Bob Owens. But don’t tell him that!”
added Bob, quickly. He knew that if George pronounced
his name in a tone of voice so loud that the
captain could hear and understand it, it would also
be heard and understood by the men about the fire,
who would recognise it on the instant. “Just tell
him that I am a passenger.”
“Is he swimmer enough to take you to the
shore?” asked the captain, when he had received
George’s reply. “We can’t send our yawl after
you for she would sink before reaching you, she is
so leaky!”
“I can take care of him,” shouted Bob.
.pn +1
.bn 199.png
This answer seemed to satisfy the captain, for he
turned and walked toward the pilot-house, while the
rest of the group remained to watch the boys.
“That yawl is like everything else about the old
Sam Kendall—nearly played out,” said George.
“She has four boats, and I don’t believe that any
of them would float until they could be pulled across
the river. You are not going to let go?” he added,
as he felt Bob loosen his grasp on his collar.
“O, no. I didn’t jump into the water to let you
go after I caught you. I want to get you in such a
position that I can tow you ashore. Put your hand
on my shoulder and keep it there. That’s the way.
Now fall back alongside of me so that—don’t, be
afraid,” he added, as George seized his collar and
held on with all his strength. “Let go!”
The boy pilot was either blessed with more than
an ordinary share of courage, or else he had unbounded
confidence in Bob, for he did just as the
latter told him, and without any words or hesitation.
He let go his hold, but he didn’t sink, Bob’s hand
being promptly thrust out to support him.
“You mustn’t clinch me that way,” said Bob,
earnestly; “for if you do, you’ll drown us both.
Don’t do it again.”
.pn +1
.bn 200.png
“I won’t,” answered George. “I was afraid I
was going under.”
“You needn’t be afraid of that. The weight of
your finger on my shoulder will keep your head out
of water, and that is all you want. Now, fall back
so that I can have plenty of elbow-room. That’s
the idea.”
George placed his hand upon Bob’s shoulder, allowed
himself to swing back out of the way so that
the swimmer could freely use his arms, and in this
manner was towed toward the shore. Bob turned
his head once or twice to say an encouraging word
to him, but finding that George was not in the least
frightened, he did not speak again until he reached
the shore. It was hard work to swim so long a distance
in that swift current, with his boots and all his
clothes on, and dragging a boy behind him as heavy
as himself, and he needed all his breath. He struck
the bank fully a mile below the landing, and in an
almost exhausted condition. George was obliged to
help him out of the water. He recovered his breath
in a few minutes, however, and as soon as he was
able to stand upon his feet, he divested himself of
his coat, pulled off his boots and stockings, and rolled
up the legs of his trousers.
.pn +1
.bn 201.png
“It will be easier walking now,” said he, by way
of explanation. “These wet things are heavy, and
I am so tired that I don’t want to carry any unnecessary
weight.”
But this was not the reason why Bob pulled off
some portions of his clothing. He knew that he
would be obliged to board the steamer in full view
of the men at the landing, and he had been thinking
about it ever since he began towing George toward
the shore. He had escaped recognition once, it is
true, but that thought did not encourage him. He
was famous now, and everybody would want to take
a good look at the boy who had nerve enough to
jump overboard and save another from drowning.
He was glad that his valise was safe on board the
boat. With that in his hand his detection would
have been almost certain.
After resting a few minutes, the two boys scrambled
along the bank toward the landing, but before
they had gone half a mile they discovered a party of
men coming in search of them. When they had approached
a little nearer George informed his rescuer
that he knew four of them—the captain, first mate,
and Mr. Black and Mr. Scanlan, the two pilots belonging
to the steamer. Bob recognised one of them,
.pn +1
.bn 202.png
and after running his eye over the party a second
time, told himself that there was also another whom
he had met somewhere very recently. He was not
as glad to see them as George was to see his friends.
One was the owner of the corn that had just been
placed on board the steamer, and the other was—no—yes,
it was the constable. Bob stopped, rubbed
his eyes, and looked again; but there was no mistake
about it.
About half an hour after Bob left the house, the
officer awoke and found that his prisoner was gone.
He ran at once to the stable to see if his horse was
gone also. He was, and this led the constable to believe
that Bob had mounted him and fled up the
river. Being an easy-going sort of person, who did
not think it worth while to do anything to-day that
could be put off until to-morrow, he decided not to
begin the pursuit until morning. Then he would
raise a squad of men and scour the country in every
direction.
After finding that the horse was gone, the constable
went down to the landing and questioned the men
who were standing about the fire. They were greatly
astonished to find that Bob had escaped, and declared
that he could not possibly have boarded the boat
.pn +1
.bn 203.png
without being seen by them, for they had been at the
landing ever since the steamer arrived. The officer,
however, thought it best to be sure on this point, so
he went on board the Sam Kendall, accompanied by
some of his friends, and gave her a good looking
over. He looked in almost every place except the
one in which Bob was concealed, and went ashore
firm in his belief that his prisoner would be found
farther up the river. Bob, of course, knew nothing
of this, but he did know that the constable was
within speaking distance, and the sight of him deprived
him so completely of his little remaining
strength that he was obliged to take hold of a bush
to keep himself from falling.
“What’s the matter, Bob?” asked George, who at
once sprang to his side and threw his arm about his
waist to support him. “You’re just tuckered out,
aint you? I don’t wonder at it. Lean on me till
the men come up. Hurry on, Mr. Black!”
The men were coming as fast as they could, and
in a few minutes more were near enough to seize
George by the hand, which they did one after the
other, greeting him as though they had never expected
to see him again. Then they turned to Bob,
.pn +1
.bn 204.png
who stood leaning against the bank, with his dripping
coat muffled about his head and face.
“Don’t ask him to talk to you now,” exclaimed
George, just in time to check a volley of questions.
“He hasn’t breath enough to say a word. It was all
he could do to get me ashore. Take him by the arms,
a couple of you, and give him a lift!”
This request was addressed to no one in particular,
but the two men who happened to be standing
the nearest to Bob were the ones who complied with
it. Then Bob wished most heartily that George had
held his peace, for the men who put their strong arms
through his to help him along, were the constable
and the owner of the corn. Bob’s heart seemed to
stop beating, and he trembled so violently that he
could scarcely walk; but he dared not refuse their
offers of assistance. They mistook his agitation for
weakness and helped him very tenderly over all the
rough places. They did not speak to him, for they were
wholly engrossed with George’s account of his adventure,
which he was giving to the two pilots who
were supporting him. All Bob heard of it was that
George was sitting on the boiler-deck railing, watching
a steamer that was going down the river, and the
first thing he knew he was in the water. He praised
.pn +1
.bn 205.png
Bob’s skill as a swimmer, and seemed lost in admiration
of the courage and coolness he had exhibited,
but Bob heard none of it. They were nearing the
landing now, and there was that huge fire still burning
brightly on the bank. Bob was afraid to pass
it, but his good luck had not yet deserted him, and
his disguise served him a good turn. The passengers
on deck, and the idlers on the bank, all looked
at him with the greatest interest and curiosity, but
none of the latter recognised in him the “peart and
honest-looking boy,” who had ridden that spotted
horse into the settlement a few hours before. He
was assisted up the gang-plank and to the steps that
led to the boiler-deck; and there he sank down as
if he were unable to go a step farther.
“Don’t stop,” said George, seizing him by the
arm and trying to pull him to his feet. “Come up
to my room, and get your wet clothes off. You’ll
catch cold if you sit here in this keen wind.”
Bob was well aware of that fact, but he did not
say so, for he was afraid to speak, even in a whisper,
for fear that the constable, or that other man, would
know his voice. He stopped there because he
wanted to get away from them both, and he hoped
they would leave the steamer without a moment’s
.pn +1
.bn 206.png
delay. He saw the captain run up the stairs, and
his heart bounded with delight when he heard the
bell ring. The constable and his friend, and the
idlers who had followed the boys on board, made all
haste to get ashore; the lines and gang-plank were
hauled aboard; the engines were set in motion again,
and when Bob saw the steamer’s bow swinging
toward the middle of the river, and the stretch of
clear water between her guards and the bank growing
wider, his courage and strength all returned to
him. He went back after his valise, which he had
left on the main deck, and accompanied the cub pilot
to his room in Texas. His dripping garments, and
George’s, were given into the charge of the porter,
who carried them into the galley, and when Bob had
restored his sluggish circulation by a vigorous rubbing,
and put on his warm, dry suit, he felt none
the worse for his long swim. He and George talked
incessantly while they were thus engaged, and, by
the time they were dressed, began to think they were
very well acquainted with each other.
“How far up the river are you going?” asked
George, as they went out into the cabin and took
their seats by the stove.
“I am going to St. Louis.”
.pn +1
.bn 207.png
“Do you live there?”
“No; I don’t live anywhere,” replied Bob, who
thought that, since he was fairly out in the world, it
was time for him to begin to ignore the existence of
home and all his relations.
“No father or mother, brothers or sisters?”
“No. When my hat is on my head my family
is all covered.”
“I know how to sympathize with you,” said
George. “I am almost alone in the world myself.
The only relations I have are an uncle and cousin.
My uncle is my guardian, and he is aboard the boat
now. What are you going to do when you reach
St. Louis?”
“I am going to buy a mustang and a hunting
outfit and go out on the plains.”
“What is your idea of starting from St. Louis?”
“Why, don’t all the hunters and trappers fit out
there? I understand that it is the headquarters of
the fur trade.”
“It used to be; but it is a smashing big city
now, and the hunters fit out at other points. Why
don’t you go to Denver? That is hundreds of
miles farther on. You see that western country is
.pn +1
.bn 208.png
settling up rapidly, and if you want to find fur-bearing
animals you must go to the mountains.”
Bob looked down at the floor in a brown study.
He began to see, now, that he had made some mistakes
in his calculations. He supposed that all he
had to do to enter upon the life of a trapper was, to
provide himself with a horse and rifle at St. Louis,
and plunge at once into the wilderness, where he
would find all sorts of game, from a mink to a grizzly
bear. He was not very well posted in geography
and history, for, while he was at school, he
made it a point to neglect his books as much as he
could; but he had gained an idea from some of the
dime novels: he had read that St. Louis was a little
hamlet—a fort, with a few log cabins clustered
about it—and that, when he arrived there, he
would find himself on the borders of civilization,
and surrounded by Indians and trappers.
“What makes you select that mean business,
anyhow?” asked George. “Do you know anything
about it?”
“O, yes! I have had a good deal of experience
in hunting.”
“Did you ever make any money at it?”
“I never tried.”
.pn +1
.bn 209.png
“And you never will, no matter how hard you
try. You’ll go hungry half the time and ragged
and dirty all the time. If you go alone you
will be certain to fall in with some rough characters
who will steal everything you’ve got and leave you
stranded in the wilderness. Then what would you
do? You don’t know the country, and suppose you
should lose your way and get snowed up? That
would be the last of you. I have seen lots of hunters,
and I know just what sort of men they are and
what sort of lives they lead.”
“Where did you ever see any?” asked Bob, in
great surprise.
“In Texas, where my home is. I own a big cattle
ranche a little way from the Rio Grande (or
rather I shall own it when I become of age; my
uncle holds it in trust for me now), and I lived there
all my life until about eighteen months ago. Then
I went up the Mississippi on a pleasure trip with my
uncle and cousin. I fell in with Mr. Black and Mr.
Scanlan, the pilots on this boat, and they said so
much about life on the river that I decided to follow
it; and here I am.”
“I wonder that your uncle allowed you to go so
far from home,” cried Bob.
.pn +1
.bn 210.png
“O, he didn’t care. He lets me do just as I
please. But I am going to leave the river as soon
as this trip is ended. I wrote to my uncle telling
him of my decision, and he came up to urge me to
stay until I become a full-fledged pilot; but I have
made up my mind to go home, and I want you to go
with me. I need a friend more than any other boy
in the world, (I may tell you why some day), and
you must be a friend to me or you would not have
risked your life to save mine.”
“Don’t your uncle and cousin live at your house?”
“Yes, but they are—they and I don’t—will you
go?”
Bob did not answer at once. He needed a friend
as much as George did—he was already so homesick
that he would have been glad to get away and
cry over his folly—but it was hard to give up the
plans he had cherished for so many long months.
“I tell you, Bob,” added George, earnestly, “I
know what I am saying when I assure you that you
never can succeed in any such wild scheme as this.”
“I’ll have plenty of fun and excitement anyhow,”
said Bob, “and that is what I want.”
“There is a great deal more fun in drawing an
easy-chair up in front of a comfortable fire on a blustering
.pn +1
.bn 211.png
winter day and reading about it,” returned
George, who told himself that he knew right where
Bob had got all his foolish notions. “All you know
about this life that you want to enter upon, you got
out of some book; and I will venture the assertion
that if you could see the man who wrote it, you would
find that he had never been within five hundred
miles of the plains, that he had never seen anything
wild larger than a pigeon, and that he couldn’t tell
a rifle from a shot-gun if he should see them together.
Why, Bob, the men who are born hunters don’t
make anything at it. Take them as a class, and you
will find them poor, miserable fellows. If excitement
is what you want, go home with me. The
Mexicans are playing havoc with the stock-raisers
down there—Uncle John says they stole two hundred
head of cattle not more than a month ago—and
they will give you excitement enough to satisfy you.
Besides you will have a fine horse to ride, plenty to
eat and a tight roof to shelter you. That’s more
than you will have on the plains, I tell you.”
As George ceased speaking the door opened and
one of the pilots came into the cabin.
.pn +1
.bn 212.png
.pb
.sp 4
.h2 id=ch12
CHAPTER XII || GEORGE AT THE WHEEL.
.sp 2
.dc 0.3 0.65
“WHY, George,” exclaimed the new-comer, “I
thought you had turned in long ago.”
.ni
“O, no,” answered the young pilot. “I am
going to stand my regular watch to-night. Mr.
Black is at the wheel, I suppose? Mr. Scanlan,
this is Bob Owens, the boy who saved my life.”
.pi
The pilot greeted Bob very cordially, and said a
great many complimentary things to him, praising
the courage he exhibited in jumping overboard to
rescue one who was unknown to him.
“He will know me better before he sees the last
of me,” said George. “I am going to take him to
Texas with me.”
“I hope you won’t go,” said Mr. Scanlan. “You
have made a good beginning, and you ought to stay
with us until you learn the river. It will not take
you more than a year longer, and then you can earn
your two hundred and fifty dollars a month very
easily.”
.pn +1
.bn 213.png
“I think from some things that have happened
that I had better go home and see what is going on
there,” replied the boy. “I am going into the pilot-house
now, Bob, and you must go with me and see
what a good steersman I am,” he added, hastily, as
if he wanted to turn the conversation into another
channel. “But before we go we’ll have a cup of hot
coffee and a bite to eat.”
As George said this he stepped up to the table,
and throwing back the cloth which covered it, disclosed
to view a substantial lunch. It was placed
there every night for the accommodation of the
officers who were to stand the mid-watch. The exciting
scene through which they had just passed had
not taken away the boys’ appetites, and they disposed
of a good share of the nice things the steward
had provided. When they had eaten all they wanted
George drew the cover over the table again, and led
the way into the pilot-house. Mr. Black greeted
them very cordially and was as profuse in his compliments
to Bob as Mr. Scanlan had been.
“I don’t want you up here to-night, George,”
said he, after he had spent a few minutes in conversation
with Bob. “Go down, and turn in. Let Bob
sleep in my bunk.”
.pn +1
.bn 214.png
“O, I have money enough to pay my fare, and
secure a stateroom,” said Bob.
“The rooms are all full—we’ve got a big passenger
list this trip—and so we shall have to take care
of you,” replied George. “But you don’t want to
go to bed now, and neither do I. I am going to
take the wheel.”
“But I am afraid to trust you with it,” said the
pilot.
“Why, don’t you suppose I know this part of the
river?” demanded George. “I’ll hold her jackstaff
on that clump of tall trees up there in the
bend until her starboard smoke-stack bears on that
clearing off there to the right, and then I’ll——”
“I understand all about that. You know the river
here as well as I do; but there’s something besides
snags and bars that we’ve got to look out for this
trip.”
While this conversation was going on, Bob seated
himself on the elevated bench in the back part of
the pilot-house, and looked about him with the
greatest interest. Everything was new and strange
to him. He had never travelled on a steamboat
before, and he felt much more uneasy and anxious
now than he did when he was battling with the current
.pn +1
.bn 215.png
two hours before. Guided by the skilful hands
of Mr. Black, the Sam Kendall was plowing her
way up the river through darkness so intense that
one unaccustomed to such things would have supposed
that her pilot must be blessed with more than
ordinary powers of vision to be able to follow the
channel. The tall trees on the bank loomed up
darkly against the cloudy sky, throwing a sombre
shade almost across the river, and leaving only a
bright, silvery streak in the middle, which showed
as plainly as the “night-hawk” on the jackstaff.
Now and then the river, for a short distance in advance,
would be illuminated for a moment by a
bright glare from below, as the sooty, perspiring
firemen threw open the furnace doors to replenish the
roaring red-hot mass under the boilers, and then, their
task done, and the doors closed again, the darkness,
which seemed blacker than before, would once more
shut out everything from view. It was long past
midnight. The passengers, who had been awakened
by the commotion which arose when it was discovered
that the boy pilot had fallen overboard, had all
retired to their staterooms again, and there was no
one stirring on board the steamer except the firemen,
two engineers, the watchman, who had just made
.pn +1
.bn 216.png
his rounds, and our three friends in the pilot-house.
Yes!—there was one other wakeful person, and he
made his appearance a good deal sooner than he was
wanted.
“You say we must look out for something besides
bars and snags, this trip,” said George. “What
else is there to stand in fear of?”
“Fire!” replied Mr. Black.
George opened his eyes and looked at the pilot.
“Yes. That’s worse than snags and bars; and
when you have had one boat burned under you, you’ll
never want to see a spark of fire again as long as you
live. I don’t see why folks patronize such a tub as this,
anyhow, and they wouldn’t if they knew as much
as I do. She is a rotten old hulk, and when she is
under way she shakes as if she was about to fall to
pieces. She’s got a cabin full of passengers, a cargo
worth sixty thousand dollars in the hold, and the captain
owns a big share in it. More than that: the boat
is insured for thirty thousand dollars, and she isn’t
worth ten.”
“Well?” said George.
“Well,” repeated the pilot, “it is a singular fact
that every boat, and two or three valuable cargoes
in which Captain Chamberlain has been interested,
.pn +1
.bn 217.png
have come to some bad end. Now mark my words,
George: The old Sam Kendall has run out the full
length of her rope. She’ll lay her bones between
here and St. Louis.”
“Nonsense!” exclaimed George. “I know why
you say that. There isn’t a word of truth in it.”
“George,” said Mr. Black, solemnly, “I am a
good deal older than you are, and know just what I
am talking about. Now you know why I don’t want
to trust you alone with the wheel. But I’m pretty
hungry, that’s a fact, and would like a cup of coffee.”
“The lunch is all ready. Bob and I have just
come up from there.”
“Then I guess I’ll run down for just a minute,
and while I am gone don’t you let that wheel go out
of your hands for anybody except Ed. Scanlan.
Do your hear?”
“I do,” replied George, as he laid hold of the
spokes, “and I’ll remember, too.”
Mr. Black went out of the pilot-house, and Bob
and George were left to themselves. The former
was in his glory now. He loved a steamboat, as
some boys love a horse, and others love a dog and
gun. A sense of the responsibility that rested on
him made his heart thrill. There was that big
.pn +1
.bn 218.png
steamer, swaying and groaning as she tore up the
river as fast as her powerful engines could send her,
a hundred and more passengers sleeping quietly in
their berths below, sixty thousand dollars worth of
freight stowed away on the lower deck and in the
hold, and this mighty craft, with her cargo of precious
lives and valuable property, was in his keeping,
and moved obedient to the slightest motion of
his puny arm. What confusion he could create, and
what a waste of life and money he could cause in
one short minute, if he chose to do so!
“Now, Bob, isn’t this glorious?” exclaimed
George, with great enthusiasm.
“I——yes: but what makes her shake so? and
how awful dark it is!” replied Bob, who trembled a
little in spite of himself. To his inexperienced eyes
it looked as though George were heading the boat
squarely toward the bank.
“O, every steamer shakes more or less, but none
quite so badly as this one. She is almost ready to
die of old age. Her hull is not half strong enough
for her engines.”
“I can’t understand how you can see where you
are going. Can you see the water?”
.pn +1
.bn 219.png
“Not very plainly; but I can see the trees on the
bank, and they are what I go by.”
“I wish I was out there among them,” said Bob.
“I’d rather camp out alone than be here. What did
Mr. Black mean by saying that this boat is going to
lay her bones between here and St. Louis?”
“O, is that what troubles you? Well, it is all
moonshine.”
“But what did he mean by it?”
“I am almost ashamed to tell you. I don’t know
whether you know it or not, but river men are just
as superstitious as sailors. I once heard a seafaring
man in New Orleans say that if rats deserted a ship,
it was a sure sign that something was going to happen
to her. River men have some equally absurd
ideas. One of their sayings is, that a minister and
a gray horse will sink any boat that floats. If that
is the case we are bound to go down, for a minister
who owned a gray horse boarded us at New Orleans
and went with us as far as Donaldsonville. That’s
what troubles Mr. Black; but it doesn’t trouble me
half as much as this bad piece of river does that
we’re coming to now. There is a sawyer about here
somewhere that has been doing a good deal of damage
of late. The John Barleycorn went down in
.pn +1
.bn 220.png
this very bend about two weeks ago, on just such a
night as this, and twenty-five of her passengers and
crew went down with her. I’ll ring the bell, and
when we touch the bar I shall know just where to
look for the snag.”
Attached to a ring in the roof of the pilot-house
was a long rope leading out of the window to the
tongue of the huge bell which stood on the forward
part of the hurricane deck. This rope was for the
use of the pilot, who, when he wanted to know how
much water there was in the channel through which
his boat was passing, struck the bell once or twice,
according as he wanted the lead thrown on the starboard
or port side of the forecastle. George laid
hold of the rope, and just then the door opened and
the captain came in. The young pilot did not take
a second look at him after he found out who he was,
for he was a man he did not like. He rang the bell
for the lead, and moved over to the other side of the
wheel; the captain seated himself by Bob’s side on
the elevated bench, and looked out of the window;
and the watchman came up and took his stand on the
hurricane deck, near the bell, to pass the word.
“Where is Mr. Black?” asked the captain.
.pn +1
.bn 221.png
“Gone down to lunch,” answered George; and
just then the watchman sang out: “No bottom.”
“This is Dogtooth bend, isn’t it?” asked the
captain.
“No, sir; it is Drayton’s.”
“Deep four!” shouted the watchman. (Twenty-four
feet.)
“And did Mr. Black leave you here alone to take
the boat through this bad river?” continued the
captain.
“Yes, sir; for he knows that I am man enough
to do it. I have taken her through here on a worse
night than this, and during a worse stage of water,
too.”
“Quarter less three!” shouted the watchman.
(Seventeen feet and a half.)
“I don’t like this arrangement,” said the captain.
“You are not a licensed pilot, and if you sink the
boat I shall lose my insurance.”
“Mark twain!” (Twelve feet.)
“You’ll be on the bar the first thing you know,”
exclaimed the captain, jumping to his feet. “The
water is shoaling rapidly. Slow down at once.”
“I’ll be safe over it in two minutes more, for there
is water enough where I am going,” replied George,
.pn +1
.bn 222.png
who wished the captain would mind his own business
and let him give the whole of his attention to steering
the boat.
“Nine feet!” shouted the watchman.
“Stop her!” commanded the captain.
“No need of it, sir, for we are over now,” said
George; and so it proved, for the next word was,
“no bottom.” George rang the bell to show that he
was done with the lead, and the captain continued:
“The snag the Barleycorn picked up is about here
somewhere, isn’t it?”
“Yes, sir, two hundred yards above; and worse
than that, a portion of the Barleycorn’s wreck lies
right in the channel.”
“Well, you had better go down and tell Mr. Black
to come up here. I’d rather trust him than you.
I’ll take care of her until he comes,” said the captain,
moving toward the wheel.
“I am able to take care of her myself,” replied
the young pilot.
“But I don’t think it safe to trust you. This is
my boat, and I’ve got considerable at stake. Give
me the wheel.”
“I’d rather not do it, sir. Mr. Black told me
.pn +1
.bn 223.png
particularly to give it into the hands of nobody except
himself or Mr. Scanlan.”
“Well, Mr. Black is under my orders and so are
you. Let go of the wheel!”
The captain made an effort to push George away
from his post, but the boy clung to the spokes with
all his strength, and looked out of the window for
the watchman, intending to send him below to call
Mr. Black; but the watchman having performed the
duty of passing the word had gone his way, and
George was left to fight his battles alone.
“Will you let go of that wheel?” demanded the
captain, in savage tones.
“No, I will not,” replied George, firmly. “I
know what you want and so does Mr. Black. You
want to sink this boat and get the insurance money
on her; but you can’t do it while I am in the pilot-house!”
This bold declaration arrested the arm which the
captain had raised to strike the young pilot. He
stood motionless and speechless for a moment with
his clenched hand in the air, and then the blow fell,
and the boy dropped to the deck. He lay stunned
and bewildered for a moment and then staggered to
his feet and looked out. The dreaded snag could be
.pn +1
.bn 224.png
dimly seen through the darkness, and, worse than
that, the Sam Kendall was out of the channel and
heading toward it at full speed. George thought of
the sleeping passengers below, and made a desperate
effort to save them and the boat. He seized one of
the ropes leading from the post which supported the
wheel down to the engine-room, and gave it a furious
jerk. It was the stopping-bell, and the engineer
was quick to respond to it. George then tried to
reach the backing-bell, but the captain turned fiercely
upon him and struck him to the deck again. But
George had saved the boat. The port engine was
stopped almost immediately, while the one on the
starboard side continued to work as rapidly as ever;
and although the captain threw the wheel over as
quickly as he could, he was not able to make the
helm overcome the tremendous power of the huge
paddle-wheel. The bow of the steamer swung
rapidly away from the snag, and the passengers slept
on, all unconscious of the danger they had so narrowly
escaped.
George scrambled to his feet again in a sadly demoralized
condition. The captain’s last blow was almost
too much for him. He leaned upon the bench for
a few seconds, and when he had somewhat recovered
.pn +1
.bn 225.png
himself he saw that the pilot-house door was open,
that there was no one at the wheel, and that the
steamer was swinging around toward the bank with
fearful velocity. To spring to his post, stop the
starboard engine, start the other, and bring the boat
back into the channel with her head up the stream
was the work of but a few minutes. Just as he had
succeeded in doing it Mr. Black hurried in and
seized the wheel.
All these incidents occupied but a very short time in
taking place. The captain was not in the pilot-house
more than three or four minutes, and during
that time Bob sat on the bench, alternating between
hope and fear, and watching the singular scene that
was transpiring before him. He looked on with
mouth and eyes wide open, but could do nothing.
He expected every instant that the boat would blow
up, or fall in pieces, or do some other equally dreadful
thing, and he would have given everything he
possessed to have been safe on shore. He breathed
easier when he saw Mr. Black come in; but if he
had only known it, there was another and a harder
test of his courage close at hand.
“What are you ringing so many bells for,
.pn +1
.bn 226.png
George?” asked the pilot. “Did she take a sheer
on you?”
“No, sir; but I made her take a sheer on the
captain, I guess,” was the faint reply.
“The old man!” exclaimed Mr. Black. “He
hasn’t been in here!”
“Hasn’t he, though? My head tells me a different
story. He knocked me away from the wheel
because I wouldn’t give it up to him, and tried
to run the boat on the snag that sunk the Barleycorn.”
Mr. Black was profoundly astonished. He looked
toward Bob, who nodded his head significantly, and
then began to inquire into the particulars of the
case. By dint of much questioning (the boys could
not tell their story connectedly, one being somewhat
muddled and the other greatly excited and alarmed),
he finally gained a pretty good idea of what had
happened in the pilot-house during his absence. He
made no comments, but, having learned all he
wanted to know, devoted himself entirely to the
work of steering the vessel, and at the same time
he seemed to be thinking busily. George sat by
Bob’s side on the bench, gradually recovering from
the effects of his struggle with the captain, and at
.pn +1
.bn 227.png
the end of half an hour declared that he was all
right, with the exception of a slight headache.
“Well, you had better go down and sleep it off,”
said the pilot.
“O, no!” replied George; “I want to steer.
You must remember, Mr. Black, that I shall not
have many more opportunities to handle the wheel.
As soon as we reach St. Louis, I shall——What’s
that?”
The pilot and the two boys held their breath and
listened.
“That’s so; what is it?” exclaimed Mr. Black;
and had there been light enough in the pilot-house
to enable the boys to distinguish his features, they
would have seen that his face was as pale as death.
There was the sound of a terrible commotion below,
which was plainly heard above the puffing of the
exhaust pipes, and the pounding of the paddle-wheels.
Hoarse voices shouted out hurried commands,
and uttered cries of alarm; heavy feet ran
to and fro; and then suddenly a greater uproar arose
in the cabin, as if the passengers had been aroused
from their sleep to find themselves confronted by
some terrible danger. A moment afterward one of
the engineers on watch shouted one word through
.pn +1
.bn 228.png
the trumpet leading from the lower deck to the
pilot-house, which almost paralyzed two of those
who heard it, and explained it all.
“Fire!” shouted the engineer.
The two boys sprang to their feet in great dismay,
and, for a few seconds, stood looking at each
other, without possessing the power to move or
speak. Bob knew, instinctively, that something
dreadful had happened, but he did not fully realize
the danger of their situation.
“He don’t—he can’t mean to say that the boat is
on fire!” he managed to gasp, at last.
“That’s just the trouble,” answered Mr. Black.
“Why, how—how——”
“There’s no telling how the fire started, if that
is what you want to know. What did I tell you,
George? I am not surprised at it, for I have been
looking for this, or something just as bad, to happen
to the old tub for a long time. It is a wonder to
me that she has stayed above water as long as she
has. But she’s a dead duck now. She’ll go like
a tinder-box.”
“Well, we don’t want to go with her,” cried
George, in great excitement. “Turn her toward
the bank. Run her ashore!”
.pn +1
.bn 229.png
He sprang forward to assist Mr. Black in swinging
the boat around, but no sooner had they laid out
their strength on the wheel than something seemed
to give away all at once, the wheel flew out of their
grasp, and George fell to the deck all in a heap,
while Mr. Black only saved himself by clinging to a
stanchion.
“What’s the matter?” cried George, as he scrambled
to his feet.
“The tiller-rope has parted and the boat is unmanageable,”
was the appalling reply. “She’ll
burn and sink in the deepest part of the channel,
and I can’t swim a stroke.”
When Bob heard these words he sank down on the
bench almost overcome with terror. Just then Mr.
Scanlan came bounding up the steps to the hurricane
deck, carrying his boots in his hand and his coat
over his arm. “What’s the matter with you in
there?” he demanded. “Are you both asleep?
Don’t you know that we are all in a blaze below?
Run her ashore.”
“We can’t. The tiller-rope is burned off!”
“Burned off,” repeated Mr. Scanlan, as he came
rushing into the pilot-house. “I thought the
watchman said the fire was in the galley. Well, I
.pn +1
.bn 230.png
swan!” he added, as Mr. Black gave the wheel a
turn to show that the rope was no longer connected
with it. “We must be burned half in two already.”
“Who-whoop!” shouted George, through the
trumpet.
“Hallo!” shouted one of the engineers in reply.
“We have no control over the rudder, and will
have to do the best we can with the wheels,” said
George.
“All right,” was the engineer’s answer. “It is
getting smoky, but we will stay as long as we can.”
Mr. Black rang to stop, and then to back the port
engine, leaving the other still working ahead, and
this brought the Sam Kendall around until she lay
directly across the channel, her bow pointing toward
the left bank. Then he slowed down on the starboard
engine, came ahead strong on the port, and the
boat shot rapidly across the river, while the three
pilots stood awaiting the result with no little anxiety.
If there was water enough to float the steamer, her
bow would soon touch the shore; but scarcely had
this thought passed through their minds when there
was a concussion that almost knocked them off their
feet, rattled the smoke-stack guys furiously, and
caused the tall chimneys to reel and sway about as
.pn +1
.bn 231.png
if they were on the point of falling overboard. The
boat had run on the bar, two hundred yards from the
bank, and gone on, too, with sufficient force to remain
wedged fast; for, although the engines were
backed with their full power, they could not start her
an inch.
.pn +1
.bn 232.png
.pb
.sp 4
.h2 id=ch13
CHAPTER XIII || THE BURNING OF THE SAM KENDALL.
.sp 2
.dc 0.2 0.65
“THE jig is up!” shouted one of the engineers
through the trumpet, and his voice sounded as
if he were half choked. “Impossible to stay here
any longer. Too much smoke. Can’t breathe!”
“Well, stop her and ship up before you leave,”
shouted Mr. Scanlan, earnestly. “Come ahead
strong, and perhaps she will work closer in.”
One of the engineers obeyed the order, but the
other had no doubt been driven away from his post
by the smoke or the flames, for his engine continued
its reverse motion, while the other was working
ahead. The result of this antagonism of forces was
to hold the Sam Kendall perfectly motionless, in
spite of the current. Her bow was fast on the bar
(there were seven feet of water there, however, so
that those of her passengers and crew who could not
swim were in as much danger as they would have been
.pn +1
.bn 233.png
had the boat been anchored in the middle of the
river), and when the hog-chain braces were burned
away, she would break in two and sink in the
channel.
During this time the fire had made rapid progress,
and now thick clouds of smoke were rising on all
sides, and the banks of the river were lighted up
with a lurid glare, showing that all below the hurricane
deck was a mass of flames. There was no one
on this deck except the pilots and Bob Owens. The
captain had not been seen since the alarm was given.
The pilots had done all that men could do. With
such courage and steadiness as they exhibited they
might have succeeded in placing the boat in such a
position that every one on board of her could have
escaped to the shore, had they not been crippled at
the start by the breaking of the tiller-rope. They
could be of no further use in that pilot-house.
“The jig is up with us, too,” said Mr. Scanlan,
gazing wistfully toward the trees on the bank which
were rendered plainly visible by the light of the
flames. “If I could live my life over again, my
first hard work would be to learn to swim. Now,
boys, you have never seen anything like this before,
but I have, and a word of caution may be of service
.pn +1
.bn 234.png
to you. When you take to the water, as we’ve all
got to do now, be sure there is no one near you. A
drowning man’s grip is like a vise. Now let us go
and see if we can help anybody.”
Bob followed his companions out of the pilot-house,
but stopped at the foot of the stairs and stood appalled
at the scene presented to his gaze. Up to
this time he had moved like one in a dream, and
did not seem to realize what was going on around
him; but now he was fully alive to the dangers
which threatened him, and he was frightened indeed.
The deck on which he stood was so hot that he could
not bear his hand upon it, and the flames were bursting
out from both sides of the doomed steamer, whose
frail, fanciful upper works burned like so much paper,
and the light they threw out enabled Bob to
see a long way up and down the river. The dark,
muddy surface of the stream was dotted with men
and women who had taken to the water and were
floating down with the current on tables, chairs, or
whatever else they could lay their hands upon before
trusting themselves to the treacherous element. As
he gazed, he saw more than one unfortunate slip off
his frail support, and after making a vain effort to
recover it, throw his hands above his head and sink
.pn +1
.bn 235.png
out of sight. Bob stood and trembled while he
looked.
“Come, come, boys!” exclaimed Mr. Black, hurriedly;
“this is no time to be idle. The forecastle
is crowded with passengers who must be saved.”
These words recalled George to his senses, and
they even put a little life into Bob Owens. The latter
began to think that he had never known what
courage was. Here were these men who could not
swim, and who, consequently, were in just as much
danger as any person on board the boat, thinking
of others instead of themselves. Bob’s first impulse
after he became thoroughly waked up, was to look
out for number one; but he was restrained by the actions
of the pilots. He was no coward—he had
proved that to everybody’s satisfaction. He was
simply inexperienced, and needed an example to
stimulate him and show him what ought to be done.
The sequel proved that he was an apt pupil, too.
Bob looked all around for Mr. Scanlan, but could
not see him. Mr. Black and George were standing
near the starboard wheel-house, looking over
the side; and when Bob came up he found that they
were watching their partner, who was trying to
get one of the steamer’s boiler-deck boats into the
.pn +1
.bn 236.png
water. Some one had evidently been there before
him, with the same object in view, for the railing
was cut away, and the bow of the yawl was hanging
out over the side, so that a strong push was all that
was needed to send her into the river. It was fortunate
that such was the case, for the fire was so
hot, and the smoke so dense and stifling, that no
one could stay there two minutes and live. Mr.
Scanlan seemed to be courting death by staying
there half so long. The flames flew into his face,
scorching his hair and whiskers, and now and then
thick clouds of smoke would roll over him, completely
hiding him from view. He threw the long
painter up to Mr. Black, pushed the boat overboard,
and, with Bob’s help and George’s, climbed
back to the hurricane deck. He ran to the opposite
side of the boat to obtain a breath of fresh air,
wiped the smoke from his eyes, brushed off the
sparks of fire that clung to his clothing, and hurried
to the assistance of Mr. Black, who, by walking
along the deck, was drawing the boat toward the
forecastle, where some of the passengers and crew
had retreated out of reach of the flames.
No language can describe what Bob saw when he
looked down upon that forecastle. He never forgot
.pn +1
.bn 237.png
it: it troubled his sleep for many a night afterward.
Men, women and children were gathered there;
some crouching timidly at the foot of the jackstaff,
watching the fire, which was rapidly approaching
them, and others running frantically about searching
for missing relatives or friends, or shrieking with
terror, and appealing for the help which never came.
Strong men fought for the possession of a plank or
chair, and some jumped recklessly into the water,
seized upon the first object that came within reach,
which was oftentimes a fellow-being struggling
desperately for his life, and held on with a death grip
until both went out of sight together.
.if h
.il fn=p232.jpg w=600px
.ca
The Burning of the “Sam Kendall.”
.ca-
.if-
.if t
.sp 2
[Illustration: The Burning of the “Sam Kendall.”]
.sp 2
.if-
Bob took it all in at a glance, and then turned
his attention to the yawl, which Mr. Black had by
this time drawn up to the forecastle. The frightened
men shouted with delight when they saw it.
A general rush was made for it, in spite of the
remonstrances of Mr. Black, who called frantically
for somebody to keep the crowd back, assuring them
that, if they would only act like reasonable beings,
there was time enough to save every soul on board
the boat. But the crowd on the forecastle paid not
the slightest attention to him. Probably they never
heard his voice at all. They ran in a body toward
.pn +1
.bn 238.png
.pn +1
.bn 239.png
.pn +1
.bn 240.png
the yawl, which in a minute more would have been
filled so full that she would have sunk beneath her
load, had it not been for an unlooked-for incident
that happened just then.
The first to reach the boat were a couple of firemen
(we are sorry we do not know the names of the
cowards, so that we could publish them, for this circumstance
really happened), one of whom jerked
the painter from Mr. Black’s grasp, while the other
put his shoulder against the side, and with one
strong push sent the yawl far away from the burning
steamer. It was a cruel disappointment to those
who were left behind, and the panic among them
was greatly increased. As for the pilots, they could
scarcely contain themselves. They stamped about
the deck and implored and commanded, but all to no
purpose. Their words fell upon deaf ears.
“Is there no one below there who has a pistol?”
shouted Mr. Scanlan. “If there is, let him shoot
them—shoot them down like dogs. Come back
here. There’s time enough to save you and all the
rest!”
But the firemen did not come back. They pulled
straight for the shore, and when they reached it,
they sprang out and ran up the bank. The yawl,
.pn +1
.bn 241.png
which they did not attempt to secure, swung around
broadside to the shore and floated off with the current.
“Now it is time for us to look out for ourselves,”
said Mr. Black, as a gust of wind brought a thin
tongue of flame up from below and sent it curling
across the deck. “Come on, all of us. Where’s
Bob?”
“Why, I saw him here just as those men ran off
with the yawl,” replied George. “But he doesn’t
seem to be in sight now. What shall I do if he has
deserted me? Bob, where are you?”
No answer was returned, and Bob was not to be
seen. He was gone, and the pilots could not stop
to look for him, for their own situation was becoming
dangerous in the extreme. The boat was burned
nearly in two, and portions of the hurricane deck
were falling in every moment. They would run a
great risk by going down among those frightened
people on the forecastle, for they could not swim,
and if they found anything to serve as a life-preserver,
some one would be sure to take it away from
them. Their only way of escape was by the derrick
at the stern. With one accord they hastened toward
it, the deck bending and smoking under their feet,
.pn +1
.bn 242.png
and seizing the guys that supported the derrick, they
swung themselves down to the after-guard.
And where was Bob all this while? He was safe,
and exerting himself to prevent further loss of life
among the passengers and crew. We said he was
inexperienced, and needed an example to wake him
up and show him what ought to be done. He had
two good ones in Mr. Black and Mr. Scanlan. He
wanted to assist them in some way, but he did not
know how to go about it until he saw the cowardly
firemen running off with the yawl; then he decided
upon his course in an instant. He knew that the
men intended to make the best of their way to the
shore, and that they would have no further use for
the boat after they got there. If he could only secure
the yawl after they abandoned it, he might be able
to bring it back to the steamer in time to save somebody.
He ran to the side and looked over. The
river at that moment happened to be clear of people,
and Bob jumped off without hesitation. It was a
high leap from the hurricane deck to the water, but
he took it with perfect confidence, and when he arose
to the surface struck out vigorously for the shore.
The current carried him down the stream in spite of
all his efforts to prevent it, but this proved to be a
.pn +1
.bn 243.png
point in his favor; for by the time he had accomplished
half the distance he had to swim, the firemen
had reached the bank and deserted the yawl, which
was now floating slowly down the river. The current
carried it at about the same rate of speed that
it carried the swimmer, so that she happened to be
at the very point where he touched the shore.
To climb into the boat, discard his dripping coat,
which prevented the free use of his arms, catch up
the oars, and turn the yawl’s head toward the burning
vessel, was the work of but a few seconds. He
laid out all his strength, but the current was strong,
the boat too heavy to be easily propelled by one person,
and she seemed to move through the water at a
snail’s pace.
Bob soon became aware that he was seen, and that
his approach was awaited with no little anxiety and
impatience. Entreaties, commands, and offers of
heavy rewards were addressed to him; but he was
doing his best already, and the promise of millions
of money and the prospect of saving every imperilled
life, would not have added to his strength or
powers of endurance. He knew that the yawl would
not carry all the men and women on the forecastle,
and his first thought was of the three pilots. If he
.pn +1
.bn 244.png
could save them, the work of saving the passengers
and crew would be comparatively easy, for they
would know just how to go about it. He had seen
them all on the hurricane deck when he was climbing
into the boat, but they were not to be seen there
now. The steamer was so nearly in ruins that it
did not seem possible that any one could live on her
much longer, and Bob, alarmed for the safety of his
friends, ceased his efforts at the oars, and stood up
in the boat to look for them. To his great joy he
saw three heads bobbing up and down in the water
near the stern of the steamer, and one of them he
was sure he recognised.
“Hold out just a minute longer, George!” he
shouted. “I’m coming!”
Bob sprang to his oars with redoubled energy,
and pulled to the rescue of the young pilot, unmindful
of the cries and entreaties of those on the forecastle,
who saw that he was rowing away from them.
He reached the steamer in a few minutes, but looked
in vain for his friend. He pulled around the stern
of the boat several times, and eagerly scanned the
river in every direction, but not a living being was to
be seen. Convinced, at last, that he had been mistaken,
and hoping to find George and the two pilots
.pn +1
.bn 245.png
among those on the forecastle, Bob pulled around
the steamer again, and, fully sensible of the danger
he was about to encounter, stopped a few feet from
the guards, on which were gathered fifty or more
frightened people, all pushing and crowding one
another, and calling to him to bring the yawl nearer.
“Go back, every one of you!” shouted Bob.
“Come one at a time, and I will save you all!”
“Bring that boat up closer!” cried several voices
in concert.
“I’ll not come an inch nearer until you all go
back!” yelled Bob, in reply. “Let the women
and children get in first. I can take them ashore
and come back in time to save the rest of you. Why
don’t you stop shouting, and pushing, and listen to
what I am saying to you?” screamed Bob, who saw
that not the least attention was paid to his words.
“Go back, I say!”
But he might as well have appealed to so many
stumps or rocks. His arguments would have made
just as much impression upon them. While he was
talking he gave a stroke or two with his oars, now
and then, to keep the yawl from drifting down the
stream, and once in his excitement he sent the bow
of his craft altogether too close to the steamer for
.pn +1
.bn 246.png
safety. He saw his mistake on the instant, but it
was too late to correct it, for his boat was half full
of men and women before he had time to think
twice. They jumped in on top of one another;
those who fell into the water and were able to reach
the gunwales began to climb in over the sides, and
Bob was borne down, and held, as though a mountain
had fallen on him. He struggled desperately to
free himself, for something told him that the boat
was sinking. Feeling himself relieved, for one
instant, of the immense weight that held him down,
he managed to get upon his feet, and, catching up
an oar, sprang overboard just as the water began to
pour in over the sides of the yawl. Remembering
Mr. Scanlan’s words of warning, he struck out
vigorously to put a safe distance between himself
and the drowning people, and was frightened almost
out of his senses when he saw a powerful man
spring out of the yawl, and make the most strenuous
efforts to seize him. As quick as thought, Bob
thrust the blade of his oar into the outstretched
hands which closed upon it with a grasp of iron.
“Don’t desert me, boy,” cried the man. “Save
me and I will make you rich!”
“I’ll do the best I can for you,” replied Bob,
.pn +1
.bn 247.png
“but listen to me, now, and don’t try to take hold
of me,” he added, quickly, seeing that the man was
coming hand over hand toward his end of the oar.
“Go back, or I will leave you to take care of yourself.”
“This oar won’t hold me up,” exclaimed the man,
who, frightened as he was, could hear and understand
every word Bob said to him.
“Yes, it will. A chip as large as your hand
placed under your chin will enable you to keep your
head above water. Take hold of the blade and keep
yourself off at arm’s length and I will tow you
ashore.”
The man did not pay as much attention to his
directions as the cub pilot had done, for he continued
to work his way toward Bob’s end of the oar,
and finally reached out his hand to lay hold of his
collar; but Bob was too quick for him. He went
down like a piece of lead and came up at the other
end of the oar.
“Go back where you belong,” he shouted, as the
man turned about and came toward him again. “I
don’t want to desert you, but if you don’t keep
away from me I shall be obliged to do so.”
.pn +1
.bn 248.png
“This oar won’t hold me up,” repeated the man
in terrified tones.
“It won’t if you try to climb on top of it, but it
will if you just keep hold of it with your hands. As
soon as I see something large enough to float you I
will bring it to you.”
“Bob, is that you?” exclaimed a familiar voice.
Bob looked up in great surprise, but could see no
one, for the smoke rolled over him in a thick cloud,
completely shutting out the steamer from his view.
But he heard a slight splashing in the water near
him, and when the smoke lifted a little he discovered
the cub pilot clinging to the rudder. “Why,
George,” he cried, “how came you there?”
“I let myself down by this rope,” was the reply;
and, as before, George did not seem to be in the
least alarmed. “The pilots and I went into the
engine-room after some boards to serve as life-preservers,
but it was so smoky in there I couldn’t stay.
They got some, but I didn’t.”
“Where are they now?” asked Bob.
“Gone down the river on their boards. They
tried to take me with them, but the current carried
them off, and I couldn’t swim after them. How am
I ever going to get away from here?”
.pn +1
.bn 249.png
“I’ll get you away, you may depend upon that,”
was Bob’s encouraging reply. “Now, sir, I will
give this oar up to you. Just keep your hands on
it, as I told you, and it will float you.”
“O, boy, don’t leave me!” cried the man, as Bob
let go the oar and struck out to his friend’s assistance.
“Come back here and take care of me.”
“Uncle John!” cried George, in great amazement.
Uncle John (if it was he) was much too terrified
to pay any attention to his nephew. He continued
to call for Bob long after the smoke had concealed
him from view, but the boy did not answer him. He
knew that the man was in no danger, if he would
only follow the instructions that had been given him,
but it was not so with George. The latter had
nothing to support him, and, when the fire came
farther aft, and compelled him to let go his hold on
the rudder (as it would in a very few minutes), that
would be the last of him.
The young pilot felt perfectly safe when Bob came
in sight, but even then he was not out of danger,
for it was all Bob could do to reach him. He was
obliged to swim some distance against a strong current
in order to do it, and had the boat been ten
.pn +1
.bn 250.png
feet farther away he would have failed in the attempt.
As it was, he was entirely out of breath when he
seized the hand George extended to him, and it was
fully five minutes before he could speak to him.
George saw that he was almost exhausted, and waited
patiently for him to recover himself.
“Was that man your uncle?” said Bob, at length.
“What made you ask about him?” inquired
George.
“O, I was just thinking,” said Bob, indifferently.
“Yes, and I can tell you what you were thinking
about. You think it strange that he should want
you to save him, and leave me to go down.”
“O, when men are as frightened as he was, they
are not themselves,” replied Bob.
“There’s something in that; but would you believe
me if I were to say that, if he were the best
swimmer in the world, he would not try to save me
if he saw me sinking?”
“No, I wouldn’t,” replied Bob, promptly.
“Then I won’t say so. Isn’t it getting a little
too hot and smoky here?”
Bob thought it was; and having by this time fully
recovered his breath, he was ready to trust himself to
the current again. George, being duly instructed,
.pn +1
.bn 251.png
placed his hand upon his shoulder, allowed himself
to swing back out of reach of Bob’s arms, and in
this way was towed from the burning steamer. Bob
swam as straight across the river as the current
would allow him to go, and at the end of twenty
minutes seized some overhanging bushes on the
bank. He helped George to climb out, and George
in turn assisted him; for by this time Bob was
nearly exhausted.
“What would have become of me if you hadn’t
been on the boat? This is the second time you
have saved my life,” said George, gratefully.
“Shall I tell him who and what I am?” thought
Bob, as he seated himself on the ground, panting
loudly. “If he knew that I am a runaway and a
thief—for I am a thief,” added Bob, whose recent
experience seemed to have opened his eyes to some
things to which he had been blind before—“if he
knew that, would he ever speak to me again?
Would he be so anxious to have me go home with
him?”
Bob was in a very sober frame of mind just now.
He had been near to death twice since he left home—how
near no one knew except himself. On both
occasions while he was towing George toward the
.pn +1
.bn 252.png
shore, he had overtaxed his strength, and it was all
he could do to save himself and his new friend.
During those moments of suspense it seemed to him
that he lived over every hour of his life. He thought
of his home and those he had left there as he had
never thought of them before. It was right on the
end of his tongue to say to the young pilot—
“George, I have told you a pack of falsehoods.
I have a home, three sisters, and as kind a father
and mother as ever lived. I stole a hundred and
sixty dollars and ran away so that I might spend
the money for a breech-loading gun and a jointed
fish-pole.”
How worthless these things seemed to Bob now!
He would willingly have given up all hopes of ever
owning them for just one look at his mother’s face.
He did not speak the words that arose to his lips,
for he knew that in order to be consistent he must
follow them up by going home and facing the consequences
of his folly. He wasn’t brave enough to do
that then, but he did it afterward, and, besides, he
made all the reparation in his power. He did it,
too, at such cost to himself that every one who knew
the circumstances was willing to forgive him.
.pn +1
.bn 253.png
.pb
.sp 4
.h2 id=ch14
CHAPTER XIV || A SPECIMEN TRAPPER.
.sp 2
.dc 0.2 0.65
THE boys, warned by their recent narrow escape,
sat on the bank in gloomy silence and watched
the Sam Kendall as she was slowly consumed before
their eyes. They noticed that her forecastle was
deserted now, and Bob shuddered when he asked
himself how many of those he had seen there a short
half hour before had found a watery grave. Presently
the hog-chain braces parted with a loud crash,
and the flames blazed up brightly for a moment as
the stern of the vessel floated off with the current.
In a few minutes it disappeared around the bend.
“That’s the last of the Sam Kendall,” said
George, sadly, “and, although I know that she was
an unseaworthy old tub, I couldn’t feel worse if I
were compelled to stand by and see my own home
burned up. Indeed she was my home—the only
one I had.”
.pn +1
.bn 254.png
“Why, I thought you had a home in Texas, and
that you are going back there,” said Bob.
“I am going back to Texas, but I am not going
home. I wouldn’t be welcome. There are two persons
who would be glad if I should never show my
face there again.”
“Who are they?” asked Bob.
“That man who wanted you to save him and let
me go down is one of them, and his son, my cousin
Ned, is the other. You see, my father died about
four years ago, leaving all his property in trust to
Uncle John, whom he appointed my guardian, and
who was to take care of it until I became of age.
Then he was to turn it over to me, less a certain sum
which was to be paid to him for his services. If
anything happened to me, the property was all to go
to my cousin, Ned.”
“Well?” said Bob, who now began to exhibit
some interest in the narrative.
“Well, they want that property and have tried
hard to get it. Uncle John tried to-night. You
saw that a good many of the passengers were aroused
from their sleep by the confusion that was created
when I fell overboard, didn’t you? Uncle John was
not one of them.”
.pn +1
.bn 255.png
“What was the reason?”
“I will tell you what happened, and you can draw
your own conclusions. While I was sitting on the
boiler-deck railing watching that steamer, I heard a
stealthy footstep behind me, and before I could turn
around to see who was coming, I felt a pair of hands
on my back, and got a push that sent me overboard.”
“Do you mean to say that your uncle pushed you
over?” demanded Bob, greatly amazed.
“That is just what I mean. You wondered that
he would let me go so far from home! He would
furnish me with money enough to take me to Europe,
if I asked him for it, and be glad to let me go. You
see the more I travel around the more danger I am
in.”
“Well, you have one consolation,” said Bob, after
thinking a moment. “You’ve got money, and can
have all the nice things you want.”
When Bob said “nice things,” he meant breech-loading
shot-guns, sail-boats, jointed fish-poles, and
handsome saddle-horses.
“But I would change places to-night with any
bootblack in St. Louis who has a home and a kind
father and mother,” said George, earnestly. “What
.pn +1
.bn 256.png
surprises me is that not one boy in ten appreciates
his blessings.”
“That’s so,” thought Bob. “You don’t, for one.
You have money and don’t care for it. If I had it
I shouldn’t be here now.”
“There’s Tony Richardson, for example,” continued
George. “I used to run on one of his father’s
boats, and became well acquainted with him. I envied
him, and often thought he must be the happiest
boy in the world; but he was the most discontented.
He wanted to go to sea, but his father wouldn’t let
him; and the next I heard of Tony was that he had
stolen fifty dollars and run away. But he didn’t
stay long, I tell you. The next trip but one that I
made down the river, I saw somebody on the levee
in New Orleans whom I thought I recognised; and
when I went up closer to him I found that it was
Tony Richardson. But he didn’t look much like the
spruce young fellow who used to come into the pilot-house
when we were running up to the coal fleet, and
ask me to let him steer for me. He looked worse
than any tramp I ever saw. He felt so ashamed of
himself that at first he denied that he was Tony
Richardson; but I very soon gave him to understand
that he couldn’t fool me, and then he told me
.pn +1
.bn 257.png
the story of his adventures. He had shipped at
New Orleans on a coasting vessel bound to Rio, but
before he had been twenty-four hours out of port one
of the crew stole the money he had left, the mate
gave him a black eye because he didn’t obey some
order he did not understand, and by the time Tony
reached Havana he had had quite enough of the sea.
He deserted as soon as his vessel touched the shore,
and hunted up a steamer that was about to start for the
States. He tried to ship on her, but she didn’t want
any more hands, so Tony stowed himself away in
the hold, and never came out until the vessel was
three or four hours out at sea. Of course the captain
couldn’t turn back to put him ashore, so he had
to bring him on. When I found him Tony was looking
for a chance to ship as deck hand in order to
work his way back to St. Louis. He is at home
now, and the last time I saw him he told me that he
had made up his mind to stay there.”
“But what makes you think that your uncle wants
to get rid of you?” asked Bob, who did not care to
hear any more about runaways and their experience.
He knew more about the matter already than George
could have told him if he had talked until daylight.
“I know it because he has shown it so plainly.
.pn +1
.bn 258.png
Everybody in our neighborhood knows what he is
trying to do, and I have been warned more than once.
I shouldn’t be here now if I hadn’t had somebody
besides Uncle John to look out for me. Mr. Gilbert,
our nearest neighbor, used to be one of father’s
herdsmen. He has exercised a fatherly care over me
for years; and when I told him that I was going to
leave home to become a pilot, he declared that it was
the best thing I could do. I would be safer anywhere
in the world, he said, than I was there in
Texas.”
“Then I should think you would be afraid to go
back,” said Bob, who now wished that George had
not taken so great a liking to him. If he was in
danger of his life, as his conversation seemed to
imply, Bob did not want to go with him any nearer
to Texas than he was at that moment. He did not
long for a life of adventure as he did a few days
before.
“I am going back because Mr. Gilbert advises
it,” replied George. “I am going to have a new
guardian appointed in Uncle John’s place. He is
selling off everything he can lay his hands on, and
the first I know I’ll not have a single head of stock
left.”
.pn +1
.bn 259.png
This was but one of the many topics of conversation
which engrossed the attention of the two boys
during the half hour that they stood there on the
bank, beating their hands and stamping their feet to
keep them warm, and even this was not carried on
as connectedly as we have written it. They would
talk awhile about the steamer (all they could see
of her now was a bed of coals, which marked the spot
where her bow was still hard aground), and speculate
concerning the fate of her passengers and crew.
Then they wished that Bob had a coat, and that
they had some matches, so that they could start a
fire; wondered how far away, and in what direction,
the nearest house lay from them, and asked each
other how long it would be before a boat would come
along and pick them up, and, when she came,
whether she would carry them up or down the river.
Then there would be long intervals of silence,
during which their very ideas seemed to freeze up, so
that they could not talk at all. George had a good
deal to say about himself, hoping that he might
induce Bob to give him some scraps of his own history;
but in this he was disappointed. Bob preferred
to listen.
The story of the young pilot’s life, as Bob heard
.pn +1
.bn 260.png
it that night, made him open his eyes. We should
be glad to report it here, but it is too long. We may
take it up again at some future time, together with
the history of the adventures and exploits of that
other runaway, Tony Richardson. Our business,
just at present, is to see what became of Bob in the
end, and how much he increased his happiness by
running away from home; and what we have told of
George’s story is simply to explain what happened
afterward.
“This will never do,” exclaimed George, at
length. “I can’t stand this any longer. I am getting
so cold I can hardly talk plainly.”
“Where shall we go?” asked Bob. “There may
not be a house within ten miles of us.”
“I don’t care where we go so long as we keep
moving. Let’s take a last look at the Sam Kendall
and start out. I hope all the passengers and crew
escaped with their lives.”
“So do I, but it is hardly probable. I could
have saved every man, woman and child on that
forecastle if I could only have made them listen to
reason. You and I could have made half a dozen
trips with the yawl between the vessel and the shore
.pn +1
.bn 261.png
before she broke in two. Hark! Wasn’t that the
bark of a dog?”
The two boys listened a moment, and presently
the sound that had attracted Bob’s attention was repeated.
It was so faint and far off that they could
scarcely hear it, but it put new life into them.
“It is a dog, sure enough,” said George, “and
where there is a dog there must be a house somewhere
about. Let’s see if we can find him.”
With a farewell glance at the glowing bed of coals
that pointed out the wreck of the steamer, the boys
crawled to the top of the bank and turned their faces
in the direction from which the barking of the dog
sounded. They had undertaken a task of considerable
difficulty, as they found before they had gone
many yards, for the woods were so thick and dark
that even Bob, who could find his way in the night
almost as well as he could in the daytime, was often
at fault. The distant watch-dog was accommodating
enough to give a yelp or two for their guidance
every few minutes, but they did not seem to be
drawing any nearer to him, and finally the animal,
as if dissatisfied with the slow progress they were
making, became silent.
Bob led the way for a mile or more through darkness
.pn +1
.bn 262.png
so intense that he could not see the nearest
trees, and when at length he and his companion became
so weary and disheartened that they talked
strongly of giving it up as a hopeless task, and sitting
down and waiting until daylight came, they
worked their way out of a dense thicket through
which they had been stumbling for the last ten minutes,
and found themselves in a smooth, well-beaten
path. They made more rapid headway after this,
and when they had gone a few rods farther, Bob announced
that he could see a faint light shining
through the bushes. It looked to him, he said, as
though it was shining through cracks between logs;
and if that was the case there must be a house close
at hand. Believing that they had stumbled upon
the home of the watch-dog, and that he might not
like it if he and George approached his master’s
dwelling without giving some notice of their presence,
Bob halted in the path and shouted out the
warning so familiar to every one who has travelled
through the rural districts of the South—
“Hallo, the house! Don’t let your dogs bite!”
It was well that Bob was thoughtful enough to
take this precaution, for he had scarcely finished
his hail when such a chorus of hoarse yelps and
.pn +1
.bn 263.png
growls arose out of the darkness that the boys’ hair
fairly stood on end. At the same instant a loud
rustling among the leaves and bushes told them that
they had aroused, not one dog, but a dozen, and that
they were coming. They had nothing with which
to defend themselves, and it would have been of no
use to run, even if they could have seen which way
to go. In a moment more they would have been
surrounded by the fierce animals; but just then a
door was jerked open, a flood of light streamed out
into the darkness, and a bare-headed and bare-footed
man appeared with a club in his hand.
“Begone, ye brutes!” he shouted, throwing his
club into the midst of the pack, which scattered
right and left, and concealed themselves in the
bushes. “Come on, strangers, whoever ye be, they
won’t pester ye. Some more of the Kendall’s passengers,
I reckon, aint ye?” he added, when the
boys came up. “I reckoned so, ’kase one on ye
haint got no coat on.”
“Yes, we were on the Kendall when she was
burned. Have you seen any of the passengers or
crew?” asked George, hoping that, if he had, Mr.
Black and Mr. Scanlan might be among the number.
“Yes, I picked up one, an’ I might have saved
.pn +1
.bn 264.png
more if I had only had a boat. I used to be a right
peart swimmer in my young days, but the rheumatiz
an’ ager pester me so bad that I can’t go into the
water no more. Howsomever, when I stood thar on
the bank an’ heard somebody a callin’, I jest jumped
in and jerked him out.”
“I am glad you were able to do that much,” said
Bob, when the old man paused, as if to give the
boys an opportunity to say something in praise of
the deed he had performed.
“I shan’t be able to walk ag’in fur a month, I
know,” continued the man. “He’s in the house
now, takin’ a wink of sleep, an’ restin’ while his
clothes is dryin’.”
“What sort of a looking man is he?” asked
George.
“O, he’s a chunky, good-lookin’, gray-whiskered
an’ gray-headed——”
“That’s enough,” said George, with a deep sigh
of regret. “It isn’t either of my friends, for they
are not gray-headed. May we go in and sit by your
fire?”
“Yer as welcome as the flowers in May. Sorry
I haint got a bed to offer ye, but that fellar’s got
the only one I own.”
.pn +1
.bn 265.png
“We are greatly obliged to you, but we don’t
want a bed. We only want to stay long enough to
get dry and warm, and then we’ll strike out. I am
anxious to find my partners. How far is White
River Landing from here by the road—if there is
one?”
“A matter of ten miles, an’ ye can’t miss the
way.”
The boys followed the old man into the cabin,
and Bob, who was in advance of George, looked
about to find the passenger who had been rescued
by their host. He was lying on the floor, in the
darkest corner of the room, wrapped up in a tattered
blanket, and his clothes were drying in front of the
fire. A couple of stakes had been driven into the
dirt-floor, and the garments were hung upon them.
As Bob looked at the man, he was sure that he saw
him turn his face to the wall and draw the blanket
over his head. He merely noticed the act, but
thought nothing of it.
The building in which the boys now found themselves
was a log cabin, built in the most primitive
style. There was a roaring fire on the hearth, which
threw out so bright a light that everything in the
interior could be plainly seen. The cabin looked as
.pn +1
.bn 266.png
poverty-stricken as the owner, and he looked worse
than Godfrey Evans. It was destitute of every comfort;
the only things in the shape of furniture that
the boys could see being a rifle, resting on a couple
of pegs over the door, an axe leaning in one corner,
and a battered coffee-pot, frying-pan, and a few tin
dishes, which were piled promiscuously in one another.
The sight of the coffee-pot suggested something
to Bob. “George,” said he, “don’t you think
a cup of hot coffee would be very refreshing?”
“’Taint to be had in this yere ranche, stranger,”
said the old man, quickly. “Ye see I aint had no
luck yet. It’s just a trifle too ’arly in the season.”
“Luck!” repeated George.
“Yes. I kalkerlate to have a right smart chance
o’ trappin’ here on the sunk lands jest as soon as cold
weather sets in in ’arnest.”
As the old man said this he went out to bring in
another stick of wood for the fire, and George turned
and looked at Bob without speaking. “O, I know
what you are thinking about,” said the latter.
“You want to know how I would like to live like
this.”
“That’s just it,” replied George. “How would
you? This man is a fair specimen of a professional
.pn +1
.bn 267.png
trapper. You can see that he is ragged and dirty,
and that he has nothing to wear on his head or his
feet. He talks about cold weather setting in in earnest!
What will he do then? If he doesn’t starve
he’ll freeze. I’ll warrant he’s hungry now,” added
George; and to prove it he said to the man when he
came in, “If you can’t give us a cup of coffee can
you dish us up something to eat? Anything, no matter
what it is.”
“Sorry I can’t do it, stranger,” was the reply.
“I eat the last of my bacon a week ago.”
“What in the world does he live on, then?”
asked Bob, when the old man had gone out after another
stick of wood.
George pointed silently toward the corner in
which the pots and pans were stowed. Bob looked
and saw there about half a peck of corn in the ear.
Parched corn was all the old man had to eat now
that his bacon was gone. What his dogs lived on
was a mystery. Bob took another look around the
cheerless hovel, thought of the comfortable home he
had so recklessly left, and asked himself if this was
the wild, free and glorious life that he had wasted so
many hours in dreaming about.
As there were no chairs in the cabin the boys
.pn +1
.bn 268.png
were obliged to hold their clothes in front of the fire
in order to dry them. While they were thus engaged
they talked over their plans, and made up their minds
just what they would do—or rather George laid the
plans and Bob agreed to them. They conversed in
low tones, so as not to disturb the sleeping passenger,
and kept their eyes directed toward his corner more
than half the time, hoping that he would turn over,
and give them a view of his face, for they wanted to
see who he was; but he did not move more than two
or three times while they were in the cabin, although
Bob was sure that he once detected him in the act of
turning his head slightly as if to hear what they
were saying. If George had seen it his suspicions
might have been aroused.
After Bob had wrung the water out of his clothes,
he did not neglect to overhaul the contents of his
money-belt. He had examined them while he and
George were changing their wet clothing in the latter’s
stateroom on board the steamer, and then they
were found to be all right, the precautions he had
taken having proved amply sufficient to protect the
bills from injury. Of course some of them were wet,
but they were not defaced. He had then, in accordance
with George’s advice, put all the bills into his
.pn +1
.bn 269.png
belt; and after wrapping the oiled silk around them
he had further protected them by inclosing them in
a roll of thick brown paper. This made rather a
bulky package to go into his belt, but the bills were
effectually protected, as he found when he examined
them by the light of the trapper’s fire.
“It is lucky that you are so wealthy, Bob,” said
the young pilot, after they had satisfied themselves
that the money was not injured, “for if we were
strapped I don’t know what we should do. Mr.
Black pays me twenty-five dollars a month for steering
for him, but even if we should find him, which
I don’t much expect to do, I couldn’t get any money
from him, for he will have to go to St. Louis before
he can collect any himself. I could get all we need
by writing to my friends in Texas, but it would take
two weeks at least to get an answer from them, and
where would we find food and shelter in the meantime?”
“We might be fortunate enough to run across
your uncle somewhere,” said Bob. “He’ll be
picked up by the first boat that goes up or down the
river, if he held fast to that oar and did as I told
him.”
“I certainly hope he has been picked up long before
.pn +1
.bn 270.png
this time,” replied George. “But he wouldn’t
give me any money.”
“Why, I thought you said he would give you
enough to take you to Europe!”
“So he would; but he wouldn’t give me a red
cent to take me home. He doesn’t want me there.
I’ll go, all the same, if you will stand by me.”
“I will,” replied Bob, promptly.
At the end of an hour the boys were thoroughly
dried and warmed. By this time the day began to
dawn and they make ready to start for White River
Landing. After they had received particular directions
from the trapper in regard to the road they
were to follow, they presented him with a five-dollar
bill, which Bob, at George’s suggestion, had kept
out of his money-belt for this purpose, and without
waiting to hear his expressions of gratitude, bade
him good-by and left the cabin.
No sooner had the sound of their footsteps died
away than the rescued passenger threw aside the
blanket that enveloped him, and sat up on his hard
couch. “Say, you,” he exclaimed, roughly addressing
the old man, who stood in front of the fire turning
the greenback over and over in his hands as if
.pn +1
.bn 271.png
to satisfy himself that it was genuine, “are my
clothes dry yet?”
“I reckon they be,” replied the host, feeling of
the garments, one after the other. “I’ve ’tended
to ’em purty clost.”
“Then hand them to me and go out on the bank
and hail the first boat that goes down the river. So
George is going to take that fellow to Texas and
make a brother of him, is he?” continued the passenger,
as the old man hurried from the cabin to
obey his order. “I think not. If either of them
gets there after what I have heard, it will be my
own fault.”
Just then the whistle of a steamer echoed through
the woods, and a few minutes afterward the old man
burst into the cabin exclaiming: “I’ve stopped her.
She’s the Silver Moon, an’ hove in sight just as I
reached the bank. She’s roundin’ to, now.”
The passenger hurried on his clothes, and without
stopping to thank the old man for the services
he had rendered him, rushed out of the cabin.
Reaching the bank just as the Silver Moon’s gang-plank
was being shoved out, he boarded the vessel,
which came about and resumed her journey toward
New Orleans.
.pn +1
.bn 272.png
.pb
.sp 4
.h2 id=ch15
CHAPTER XV || THE LOST POCKET-BOOK.
.sp 2
.dc 0.2 0.65
THE boys had no trouble in following the road
that led to the little collection of houses known
as White River Landing. The ten miles did not
seem very long to them, for George beguiled the
way with many thrilling and amusing incidents
drawn from his own experience, and the journey was
completed almost before they knew it.
They found the little settlement in a state of intense
excitement. The news of the burning of the
Kendall had spread through the country for miles
around, and the planters had come in by dozens to
learn all the particulars. No sooner did the boys
appear in sight than they were surrounded by a
crowd of men who asked questions much faster than
they could answer them. George told their story,
making Bob out a perfect hero (the latter was not a
little abashed when he found himself stared at as if
he had been some curious wild animal, and could not
.pn +1
.bn 273.png
help asking himself what these men, who complimented
him so highly, would have thought of him
if they had known how he came to be on board the
Sam Kendall); and when the narrative was finished
one of the listeners, who proved to be the storekeeper,
seized Bob by the arm and led him away.
“Come with me,” said he. “A brave boy like
you shall not be allowed to run around in his shirtsleeves
on a cold day like this.”
He conducted Bob to his store, one side of which
was filled with clothing, and told him to help himself
to the best coat he could find. Bob objected,
declaring that he had money enough to buy all the
clothing he needed, but the merchant would not listen
to him. He had made up his mind to do something
for the boy, and he had his own way. When
Bob came out of the store a few minutes later he
wore a much better coat than the one he had lost.
He found George still in conversation with the
planters. They told him that every canoe and yawl
that could be found had been brought into service;
that a good many of the passengers and crew had
been rescued while they were floating by the landing;
that the wharf-boat was loaded with furniture
and portions of the cargo that had been picked
.pn +1
.bn 274.png
up; that some of the passengers had gone to
New Orleans on the Silver Moon and another
boat whose name they did not mention, to make a
new start for St. Louis; and that those who remained
at the landing were being cared for by the settlers
while waiting for a boat bound up the river. Then
George made inquiries concerning his partners.
They were well-known pilots, and some of the planters
said they were personally acquainted with them;
but they had seen nothing of them.
“I am afraid I shall not find them,” said George,
sadly, as he and Bob made their way toward the
wharf-boat, which they found filled with the charred
remains of the Kendall’s cargo.
“They may have been picked up before they
reached the landing, or they may have floated by
without being seen,” said Bob.
“There is some consolation to be found in that,”
replied George, brightening. “If they are alive,
I’ll see them some day. I owe a great deal to them.”
During the two hours that they remained on board
the wharf-boat the boys were never left alone. They
had a crowd of eager listeners around them all the
time. They talked until they were tired, and were
glad, indeed, when some one announced that a
.pn +1
.bn 275.png
steamer, bound down, had just come in sight. A
strip of canvas was stretched around the railing of
the hurricane deck, bearing the words “For New
Orleans,” and that told the boys that she was the
boat they were waiting for. They boarded her as
soon as her gang-plank was shoved out, and were at
once surrounded by another crowd of people, who,
having seen the smoking wreck of the Kendall
(which was still fast on the bar), wanted to know
how it came there. George told the captain all
about it, and put a stop to further inquiries from
the passengers by elbowing his way to the office
and asking for a stateroom, to which he and his companion
were promptly shown. When they had closed
the door behind them they both gave a sigh of
relief, and Bob began to pull off his coat.
“Are you tired enough to go to bed?” asked
George. “I shall not wait until night. I am going
into the pilot-house to keep watch. We may pick
up somebody, you know.”
“I am not going to bed,” answered Bob. “I
want to take out money enough to pay our passage.
Have you any idea how much it will be?”
“Passage!” repeated George. “Why, man,
.pn +1
.bn 276.png
we’re shipwrecked. Who would take money from
us? We are not supposed to have any.”
“But, they might ask us for some.”
“No, they won’t. You’ll see that we will get the
best of everything, and not a word will be said to us
about money. Hold fast to all you’ve got. You’ll
need it, if you are going to buy repeating rifles and
revolvers, and hunting-knives, as you said you were,
when we reach Galveston. You can’t get a Winchester
rifle for less than forty-five dollars, and you
will find that the cartridges for it will cost you a
snug sum too.”
Bob put on his coat again, and the two boys sat
on the lower bunk and waited until the steamer was
under way, and the passengers had had time to disperse
about the boat, and then they opened the door
and hurried into the barber shop. They washed
their hands and faces, brushed their hair and
clothing, blacked their boots, and, having thus
greatly improved their appearance, made their way
toward the pilot-house. At the head of the stairs
which led to the hurricane deck, George stopped
and pointed down the river.
“Do you see that long point running out from
the left-hand bank?” said he. “If we make a landing
.pn +1
.bn 277.png
within the next fifty miles, without being hailed,
we shall make it there. It is Rochdale.”
Fortunately for Bob, George just then turned his
back and started toward the pilot-house, so he did
not see the sudden start the runaway gave when
these words fell upon his ear. He was going toward
his home again as fast as a strong current and a
swift boat could take him. Suppose the steamer
should make a landing there! He would conceal
himself, of course; but what good would that do?
Some of the many idlers who were always to be
found about Silas Jones’s store would come aboard,
and they would be sure to hear all about the burning
of the Kendall. They would be equally sure to
hear his name mentioned, for George had given it
with his own to the captain, in the hearing of all the
passengers. That would excite their wonder, and
would be almost certain to lead to an investigation;
and how would he feel when he was hunted up and
pulled out of his hiding-place, with David Evans’s
hard-earned money on his person, and five dollars
of it gone? How heartily he wished now that he
had given it into the hands of its lawful owner! If
he had done that, he would have made himself famous
.pn +1
.bn 278.png
in the settlement, and everybody would have thought
he was the best fellow in the world.
“Come on, Bob,” exclaimed George. “What are
you standing there for?”
As Bob could not leave the boat unless he jumped
overboard, he had nothing to do but to go on with
her, and trust to luck; so he followed George into
the pilot-house, and, with his companion, was
warmly welcomed by the man at the wheel. He sat
on the bench by George’s side, while the latter related
the story of their adventures in detail, and,
fastening his eyes on the point before him, thought
of the little settlement there, and the people who
lived in it. When there was a pause in the conversation
he managed to say to the pilot:
“Do you stop at—I mean—what is your next
landing?”
“I don’t know,” was the reply; “but I can soon
find out. Who-whoop!” shouted the pilot, through
the trumpet that led down to the office.
“Ay! ay!” shouted the clerk.
“Anything for Rochdale?”
“Nary thing,” was the encouraging response.
The pilot then went on to tell what the name of
their next regular landing was, and how far down
.pn +1
.bn 279.png
the river it was located, but Bob heard none of it.
He had learned that the boat was not going to stop
at Rochdale, and that was enough for him. But,
would she be signaled from the shore? That was
the question he kept asking himself, and it was answered
about two hours afterward, when they came
within sight of the landing. How his heart throbbed
as he drew near to the familiar place, and how glad
he would have been if he could have gone back there
with everything just as it was before he stole that
money! He noticed, with no little uneasiness, that
there was a larger number of idlers than usual congregated
on the levee, and he gazed anxiously at
them, expecting every moment to see a white handkerchief
waved in the air. But his fears proved
groundless. The steamer held steadily on her course,
and in a quarter of an hour more Rochdale was out
of sight. Bob was very miserable and gloomy after
that. He did not recover his usual spirits until the
steamer landed at New Orleans; and then the sights
and sounds of the city, which were new to him,
seemed to draw his attention to other matters, and
to put a little life into him.
As soon as the boat was made fast to the levee the
two boys went ashore, and George led the way to a
.pn +1
.bn 280.png
hotel, which was much frequented by steamboat men.
He seemed to be well acquainted there, for he had
scarcely entered the door before he was surrounded
by pilots and engineers, who were eager to hear
more about the burning of the Kendall than the
newspapers had been able to tell them. George
talked until he was tired, and then he and Bob
signed their names to the register, and went in to
dinner. When they had disappeared through the
door of the dining-room, a man who had followed
them unnoticed from the steamboat-landing to the
hotel, and who had taken care to keep in the back-ground
while George was talking with his friends,
stepped up to the desk, looked at the register, and
turned and went out.
Having disposed of a good dinner, the boys left
the hotel, intent on seeing as much of the city as
they could in one short afternoon. They intended
to remain in New Orleans that night, and take the
steamer which sailed for Galveston the next evening.
They roamed through the streets until dark, George
pointing out to his country friend all the objects of
interest they passed, and, after purchasing a few
necessary articles of clothing (which required the
outlay of ten dollars more of David Evans’s money),
.pn +1
.bn 281.png
they returned to the hotel. When they wanted to
go to bed Bob placed his money in the hands of the
clerk, and was shown to a room adjoining the one
his friend George was to occupy. He went to sleep,
thinking of the folks at home, and bemoaning the
folly of which he had been guilty in leaving them,
and, about midnight, was awakened by a rapping at
his door—a whispered rapping, so to speak, as if the
person who was outside wanted to arouse him and
no one else. Bob started up in some alarm, and,
when the sound was repeated, called out:
“Who’s there?”
“Watchman, sar,” replied the person outside.
“What do you want?”
“I’se got a letter for you, sar.”
“A what?”
“A letter what a gemman gave me to give you,
sar.”
“A letter!” thought Bob. “Who in the world
can be writing to me? It isn’t George, of course,
for he knows that I am in the room next to his own.
It can’t be that——great Moses!”
Bob was frightened by something that just then
occurred to him. Could it be possible that his father
had learned of his whereabouts, and that he had
.pn +1
.bn 282.png
come to the city by rail to intercept him and take
him home again? Bob trembled all over, as he asked
himself the question, and recalled the fact that
David Evans’s money was fifteen dollars short. As
he could see no other way out of the difficulty, he
resolved that he would not receive the letter at all.
He would wait until the watchman went down stairs,
and then he would put on his clothes, and leave the
hotel with all possible haste. He lay down again,
and, as he drew the quilts over him, exclaimed:
“You’ve made a mistake, boy. That letter is for
somebody else.”
“De gemman done tol’ me to give it to Mr.
Owens, in number twenty-six,” was the reply.
Bob groaned. Very reluctantly and with much
fear and trembling he got out of bed, and having
hunted up his candlestick—knowing that he was inexperienced,
George had told the clerk that it might
not be quite safe to trust him with the gas—he struck
a light, and as he opened the door a black hand
holding a small piece of paper was thrust in. It
was a very small piece of paper, but still it was large
enough to contain words that might almost knock
Bob over. He closed the door, hurried to the light
and unfolding the note, read as follows:
.pn +1
.bn 283.png
“I have just found a steamer that will sail for
Galveston within half an hour. I am on board of
her now. Get your money from the clerk and come
at once. You will find a carriage at the door and
the driver knows where to take you!”
Bob drew a long breath of relief, and with an exclamation
of surprise he dropped the note and began
to pull on his clothes. He was relieved to know
that the note was not from his father, and surprised
to learn that George had so suddenly changed the
plans he had formed the day before. What had
happened to induce him to leave the hotel at that
time of night to hunt up a steamer?
It took Bob but a few minutes to dress, and when
he had put the note into his pocket he blew out the
candle and hurried from his room. He lost his way
two or three times by turning into the wrong halls
and going down the wrong stairs, but he managed to
find his way to the office, at last, and asked for his
money and his bill. The clerk handed out the
greenbacks, which were enclosed in an envelope, and
Bob was waiting to learn how much his bill
amounted to, when he was greatly astonished to
hear a familiar voice behind him exclaim:
“What in the world are you doing here?”
.pn +1
.bn 284.png
Bob turned and saw the cub pilot standing before
him. He had no collar or vest on, and it was plain
that he had dressed in something of a hurry before
he left his room.
“Where are you going?” asked George, seeing
that Bob held his money in his hand.
“Why, I was going out after you,” answered Bob,
as soon us he could speak.
“And where did you expect to find me? I
haven’t been out of my room before to-night.”
“Didn’t you write me a note stating that you had
found a steamer that was going to sail for Galveston
inside of half an hour?”
“I!” exclaimed George, in great amazement.
“No, sir.”
“There!” said Bob. “I told the watchman he
had made a mistake. Here’s the note.”
George read the note, and so did the clerk; and
then the watchman, who happened to pass by at that
moment, was called upon for an explanation. “Where
did you get this note?” asked the clerk.
“From dat gemman out dar in de carriage, sar,”
was the prompt reply.
“Let’s go and see if it is any one we know,” said
George.
.pn +1
.bn 285.png
The two boys hurried to the sidewalk, and, when
they reached it, found there was no carriage there.
The watchman, who had followed close at their heels,
seemed to be very much astonished.
“The gentleman, whoever he was, found that he
had made a mistake, and so he drove off,” said
George, as he tore the note into the smallest possible
fragments, and put them into his pocket. “It is of
no consequence. Let’s go back to bed, Bob.”
They stopped for a few minutes at the desk, to
compare notes with the clerk and the watchman;
and, when everybody was satisfied that it was the
man in the carriage, and not the darkey, who had
made the mistake, Bob saw his money put back into
the safe, and he and George went up-stairs. The
latter went into Bob’s room, and, when he had
closed and locked the door, proceeded to explain how
he had happened to follow Bob to the office.
“I heard some one pounding on your door,” said
he; “but I couldn’t hear what he said to you.
Knowing that you had no friends in the city, my
curiosity was excited, and so I came out to see what
was going on; but I found your room empty. It
was lucky that I followed you to the office, for I
learned something by it. You remember that rescued
.pn +1
.bn 286.png
passenger we found in the old trapper’s cabin,
don’t you? That was my Uncle John.”
Bob looked bewildered, but said nothing.
“He overheard every word of our conversation,”
continued the young pilot. “He wasn’t asleep at
all. He knows that we are going to Texas together,
and he means to prevent it, if he can.”
“What would he have done with me, if he had
got me into that carriage?” asked Bob, drawing a
long breath. “And why does he want to trouble
me? I never did anything to him.”
“No, but you carry the purse,” replied George.
“If he could manage to send you back up the river
to St. Louis, or across the gulf to South America, it
would leave me in a bad fix, for I have no money.
He wants to keep me away from home, and he
thinks he can do it by separating us. Now, Bob,”
added George, earnestly, “we must never lose sight
of each other until we reach Texas, if we can
help it!”
The boys spent an hour or more in talking the
matter over, and then George went into his own
room. Bob locked and barricaded his door, and
tumbled into bed again, but not to sleep. Thinking
of the trap he had so nearly run into, kept him
.pn +1
.bn 287.png
awake. It was anything but pleasant for him to
know that he had an enemy in a man with whom he
was not acquainted, whom he would not have recognised
if he had walked into his room at that moment,
and who might at any time, when he was off
his guard, get him into his power and ship him off to
South America, or some other out-of-the-way place.
Bob did not ask himself what his favorite border men
would have done under similar circumstances, and
in fact he never thought of them now. He no longer
looked upon them as objects worthy of emulation.
He and George were very careful after that. They
were scarcely out of sight of each other during the
following day, and it was not until they were safe on
board the steamer, bound for Galveston, and George
had searched high and low, to make sure that his
uncle was not on board, that they began to breathe
easily.
The journey across the gulf was made without the
occurrence of any incident that was worthy of note.
Neither of them enjoyed it, for the sail grew monotonous
after a while, and, as they had nothing to read,
and had exhausted almost every topic of conversation,
they could only sit and think—one, of his happy
boyhood’s home, toward which he was hastening,
.pn +1
.bn 288.png
and where he knew he would not be welcomed by
those in possession, and the other of the loved ones
he was leaving behind, and whom he might never
see again. He hoped he might see them again, however,
and laid plans accordingly. He wouldn’t spend
any of David’s money for a hunter’s outfit, as he had
intended to do. If he had had it all in his possession,
and could have reached home without spending
any of it, he would have turned about at once; but,
as that was impossible, he would go on, and seek employment
as soon as he reached his journey’s end.
George had told him that herders received forty dollars
per month, and that, in Bob’s estimation, was a
large sum of money. At that rate it would take
him but a little over four months to earn as much as
he had stolen from David Evans. As soon as he
could save the amount he would send it to David,
and, as soon after that as he could earn enough to
pay his expenses, he would start for home. “And
when I get there, if ever I do,” added Bob, with
tears of penitence in his eyes, “I’ll stay, if I have
to live on a crust of bread a day.”
This was the way Bob talked to himself while he
was sailing from New Orleans to Galveston, and he
meant every word of it. But he had not yet reaped
.pn +1
.bn 289.png
the full reward of his folly, and something happened
to prevent him from carrying out his plans.
It was night when they reached the end of their
journey, and the long wharf at which the steamer
landed was so dark that the boys, after getting out
of the circle of light made by the dim lanterns that
hung over the gang-plank, could hardly see where
they were going. There was a crowd on the wharf,
too, and in passing through it the companions became
separated for so long a time that Bob began
to fear that they should never find each other again.
He was so greatly bewildered by the noise and confusion,
and was jostled about so roughly that he became
completely turned around and came near walking
off the wharf into the bay; but at last, to his
great joy, he ran into the arms of George, who was
in search of him, and following in his lead, soon
found himself standing on solid ground once more.
Then George came to a stand-still.
“I am not at all acquainted with the city, although
I have been here a number of times,” said he, “so
we will wait for a guide. Here comes one now.”
As George spoke a wagon heavily loaded with
trunks rattled off the wharf and turned up the street.
The boys followed it, and by keeping it always in
.pn +1
.bn 290.png
view, were finally led to the railroad depot, which
was the place they wanted to find. Their route now
lay by rail to Austin, the capital of the state, and
thence by stage to the little Spanish town of Palos,
which was within a few miles of George’s home.
When the boys entered the depot they found a
train all ready to start. The engine was hissing,
baggage-men were banging trunks about in the most
approved style, and a crowd of people, all anxious to
purchase tickets, were gathered about the window
of the office. “Pitch in with the rest,” said George.
“Push and crowd as hard as you can. It’s our
only chance of getting off to-night. But hold on!
perhaps you had better give the money to me. I
am more experienced in such matters.”
Bob had found it very inconvenient to go to his
money-belt every time he wanted a bill, so just before
the steamer landed he had transferred all the
greenbacks to his pocket-book and thrown the belt
overboard. Being quite willing that George should
take the responsibility of procuring tickets for them,
he thrust his hand into his pocket, and to his intense
amazement and alarm found it empty. He felt in
the other, but there was nothing there either. Then
he examined his clothes everywhere, but nothing in
.pn +1
.bn 291.png
the shape of a pocket-book could be found. All
this while George stood holding out his hand, and
looking first at the crowd about the window, and
then at the train, as if mentally calculating their
chances for getting away on it. Wondering at last
why Bob was so long in finding the pocket-book, he
turned to look at him, and found that he had backed
up to a truck, on which he was sitting with his chin
resting on his breast and his hands hanging by his
side.
“What’s the matter?” cried George, springing
forward. “Are you sick?”
“No; but my money is gone!” was the faint reply.
“Gone!” gasped George.
Bob could only nod his head.
“Why, it can’t be possible. Are you sure of it?
Have you looked in all your pockets? Try again.”
The thought that perhaps he might have overlooked
the pocket-book infused a little hope and energy
into Bob, who sprang to his feet and went
through the search again, George lending assistance.
But there was nothing to be found. While they
were thus engaged the crowd about the window grew
.pn +1
.bn 292.png
smaller and smaller, and finally, just as the last man
seized his ticket and started on a run for the cars,
the bell rang and the train moved slowly out of the
depot, leaving the two boys sitting on the truck and
staring blankly at each other.
.pn +1
.bn 293.png
.pb
.sp 4
.h2 id=ch16
CHAPTER XVI || DAN MAKES A DISCOVERY.
.sp 2
.dc 0.2 0.65
“HOW in the name of wonder did you manage to
lose that money?” asked George, as soon as
he could speak. “Where and when did you see it
last?”
“I had it in my hands not ten minutes before we
left the boat,” replied Bob, hardly able to keep back
his tears. “It was safe, too, when I came off the
gang-plank, for I took pains to satisfy myself of the
fact. When we got into that crowd I was pushed
about, first one way and then the other, and, now
that I think of it, I am sure I felt a hand in my
pocket.”
“Very likely you did,” answered George.
“Your pocket has been picked, that is the long and
short of the matter, and here we are, alone in a big
city, without a cent to bless ourselves with, and not
a friend within hundreds of miles of us.”
.pn +1
.bn 294.png
Bob was greatly alarmed, and even George, with
his eighteen months’ experience with the ways of
the world, was sick at heart. They sat in gloomy
silence for several minutes, and then George brightened
up a little and spoke more cheerfully.
“It isn’t as bad as it might be,” said he, “for
we know where we can get money. If I can find
somebody in the morning who is good-natured enough
to give me writing materials and a stamp, I’ll drop
a line to Mr. Gilbert, and he’ll see us through. But
it will be two weeks before we shall hear from him,
and where are we going to sleep and what shall we
get to eat while we are waiting? That’s what
bothers me. We must hunt the city over for work.
I am willing to do anything honest.”
“Where are we going to sleep to-night?” inquired
Bob, whose courage was all gone, and who felt as if
he would like to crawl into a hollow log out of sight,
and give full rest to his feelings in a copious flood
of tears.
“We can’t sleep anywhere,” replied George.
“Can’t we find a dark stairway somewhere?”
asked Bob, who remembered that the heroes of some
of his favorite books, who afterward became rich
enough to ride in their carriages, had passed more
.pn +1
.bn 295.png
than one night in that way when they first set out
to seek their fortune.
“It wouldn’t be safe,” returned George, quickly.
“There are policemen at almost every corner, and
they would be sure to find us and arrest us as vagrants.
They’ll not trouble us as long as we keep
moving, and that is the only safe thing we can do.
We’re bound to have a hard night of it, Bob, but the
sun always brings the day.”
And they did have a hard night of it. They
walked the streets for long hours, and became so
weary and footsore that they would have been glad
to lie down in the first clean place they could find
and go to sleep. The sun brought the day, it was
true, but it did not bring any improvement in their
circumstances. At an early hour they found a man
opening a grocery store. George went in and told
him their story; and the man, after listening to it,
gave him the writing materials he needed, and also
a liberal supply of crackers and cheese; but he
could not give him work, and neither could he tell
them of anybody who wanted to hire a boy.
The two friends sat on a box in front of the store,
while they ate their crackers and cheese, and then
set out to find the post-office. The letter, which
.pn +1
.bn 296.png
George had written at the grocer’s desk, having been
mailed, their next hard work was to find something
to do; but their efforts in this direction met
with no success. True, they found several business
men who wanted help, but they had no use for a cub
pilot, or for a boy who had never done anything in
his life; and, besides, they asked for something the
wanderers could not produce, namely, letters of recommendation.
The boys roamed the streets all that
day, without anything more to eat, or without stopping
to rest; and, when night came, they were almost
exhausted, and utterly discouraged. Even
George, who had thus far tried to keep up a light
heart, was gloomy enough now.
“We can’t walk the streets to-night as we did last
night,” said he; “and there is only one place that
I know of where we can go to sleep, and that is the
station-house.”
George had spoken of this several times during
the day, and explained to Bob that the station-house
was the place where destitute persons went to obtain
a night’s lodging. He added one item of information
that, made the cold chills creep all over Bob, and
that was that if they once went in there they could
.pn +1
.bn 297.png
not get out until morning, for they would be locked
in.
“I believe I’d rather die for want of sleep, than
go to such a place as that,” thought Bob, putting his
hand first into one pocket and then into another, as
he had been doing all day, in the vain hope of finding
the missing pocket-book tucked away in some
remote corner. “It seems to me that I couldn’t
breathe if I were locked up—I couldn’t, possibly—hal-lo!”
While Bob was talking thus to himself he made a
discovery that was almost as welcome as the discovery
of a gold mine would have been at any other time.
In the watch-pocket of his trousers he found a little
round ball of paper, and when his fingers came in
contact with it a thrill of hope shot through him.
Gradually slackening his pace, and allowing George
to get a few feet in advance of him, he slyly pulled
out the ball, opened it, and found that it was a fifty-cent
piece. He had put it in there very carelessly,
thinking nothing of it; but it was worth something
to him now. His fingers closed about it as eagerly
as they had closed about the tin box, when he pulled
it out from under the log where Dan Evans had
hidden it.
.pn +1
.bn 298.png
“No station-house for me to-night,” thought he.
“This will bring me supper and lodging. It isn’t
enough for both, so George must look out for himself.
I’ve saved his life twice, paid his expenses
almost ever since I met him, and I think it high
time I was taking care of number one. Now, how
shall I slip away from him?”
This was the problem which Bob now devoted
himself to solving. It did not prove to be a very
difficult one, for it solved itself. He continued to
walk very slowly, while his companion hurried along
as if he wanted to leave some of his gloomy thoughts
behind him, and presently he was nearly half a block
ahead of Bob. He looked back now and then, to see
if Bob was coming, and then hurried on as before.
Bob kept his eye on him, and, as soon as the opportunity
presented itself, he turned into a side-street
and broke into a run. He was so weak and tired
that he could scarcely stand upon his feet, but the
prospect of a good supper and a bed to sleep in put
life into him, and for two or three blocks he ran at
the top of his speed. He turned into every street
he came to, and, when he thought he had put a safe
distance between himself and his companion, he
.pn +1
.bn 299.png
stopped and sat down on a door-step to recover his
breath.
“I had to do it,” thought Bob, who could not
help feeling sorry when he thought of George wandering
hungry, friendless and alone through the
streets of the city. “I couldn’t stand it any longer
without food and sleep, and I have just enough
money to see me through. Now I wonder if I can
find that place again!”
Once on the previous night, and two or three
times during the day, the boys had passed an eating-house,
over the door of which was a huge lantern,
with a notice on it containing the information that
supper and lodging could be had there for fifty cents.
This was the place Bob wanted to find, and, to his
great joy, he went almost straight to it. He kept a
sharp lookout for fear that he might run against
George before he knew it; and, when he reached the
eating-house, he stopped and looked all around to
make sure that he was nowhere in sight. Then he
went in, laid his fifty cents on the counter, and informed
the proprietor that he wanted supper and a
bed to sleep in. He was shown to a place at one of
the tables in the room, and ate as only a hungry boy
can eat. When he had satisfied his appetite he was
.pn +1
.bn 300.png
conducted to his room, and sank into a heavy slumber
almost as soon as he touched the bed. He was
aroused in the morning by a loud and long-continued
rapping at his door, accompanied by cries of “Breakfast!
breakfast!” He got up, but there was no
breakfast for him. He resumed his wanderings
about the city, not knowing where to go or what to
do. He could not go home—O! how he wished now
that the steamer had been hailed when she passed
Rochdale, and that he had been discovered and compelled
to go ashore. He could not find work, and
he could not live much longer as he was living now.
He was a miserable runaway. Once during the day
he came very near encountering the boy he most
wished to avoid. While he was passing one of the
numerous hotels in the city, he saw George follow a
gentleman in there. As soon as Bob caught sight
of him he turned and walked in the opposite direction.
“He has either found work, or else he has been
begging, and that gentleman is taking him in there
to give him his breakfast,” thought Bob. “Begging!
Must I come down to that?”
Bob had shot very wide of the mark. George had
not found work, and neither had he been begging.
.pn +1
.bn 301.png
He had found Mr. Gilbert, the very man to whom
he had written the day before, and the two had spent
a good portion of the night and all the morning in
looking for Bob. The latter had not bettered his
condition by running away from George.
Bob spent the forenoon in wandering about the
streets, and was growing very hungry and almost
desperate when his eye caught a notice that attracted
his attention. It read: “Men wanted for the U.
S. Cavalry service.” Bob looked at it for several
minutes, then put his hands into his pockets and
moved on with his eyes fastened on the sidewalk, as
if he were thinking deeply about something. When
he came to a crossing he went over to the opposite
side of the street and read the sign from there.
Then he came back again and read it while standing
in front of it. After that he looked in through the
open door and saw three or four men in fatigue uniform
sitting beside a long table, which was covered
with papers and writing materials.
“There’s a chance to get plenty to eat and a place
to sleep,” thought Bob, as he walked on again,
“and I don’t know that I can do any better. I
can’t go home; I don’t know anything about such
work as they have to do in a city, and I can’t live
.pn +1
.bn 302.png
in this way. I’ll ask them if they will take me, at
any rate.”
As Bob said this he turned about and walked
toward the recruiting-office. He walked rapidly, as
if he feared that his courage might fail him, and
when he reached the door he went in without stopping
to think about it. When he went in he was a
free boy; when he came out he was not so, having
sworn away his liberty for five years. Perhaps then
he regretted the step he had taken as heartily as he
regretted that he had run a way from home; but it
was too late to mend the matter. He could no
longer go and come as he pleased, and neither was
there any such thing as running away. But he was
sure of something to eat and a place to sleep in, and
that was what he wanted. He had a long term of
years before him in which to think over the mistakes
and follies of his life, and let us hope that it was of
benefit to him.
And what were the people in Rochdale doing all
this while? Let us go back and inquire. Let us return
to Dan Evans, whom we have not seen since
Bob stole David’s money from him.
“Thar!” said Dan, to himself, as the report of
his rifle rang through the woods, and the squirrel,
.pn +1
.bn 303.png
after turning two or three somersets, struck the
ground with that dull thud so gratifying to a hunter’s
ears, “I reckon I’ve done got a breakfast now.
If ye’d only showed yourself a little sooner I
wouldn’t had to go up to Owens’s hen-roost, dog-gone
it! That ole nigger Bijah done cotched me in
the tree, an’ he knowed me, too; but I don’t keer
fur that. The only thing that bothers me is to
know what I am goin’ to do next. I can’t go hum,
kase Dave an’ the ole woman won’t let me stay thar’,
an’ thar aint no other place in the settlement whar
I kin stay. My circus-hoss, an’ my fine guns that
break in two in the middle, an’ all the other nice
things I was goin’ to buy with my money, are up a
holler stump, kase I can’t use ’em while I’m livin’
out here in the woods.”
Talking thus to himself Dan re-loaded his rifle,
picked up his squirrel and slowly and thoughtfully
retraced his steps toward his camp. He was now
learning the lesson that Bob Owens was destined to
learn a few days later, and that was that the possession
of money does not by any means make one
happy. Dan had more in his hands now than he
had ever hoped to earn by his own labor, and he
had never been more miserable and discontented in
.pn +1
.bn 304.png
his life. He was lonely out there in the woods, and
he would have been almost willing to give up the
money, if by so doing he could bring himself back
to his old mode of life again. When he was handling
the money he was in ecstasies; but the unwelcome
thought that it was of no earthly use to him
would always force itself upon him sooner or later,
and then he would think strongly of taking it back
to his brother, with the assurance that he had stolen
it from his father on purpose to return it to him.
He thought strongly of it now. He was not so stupid
but that he could see that he was getting rather
low down in the world. He had no clothes except
those on his back, and they afforded him but very
little protection against the keen morning air—only
three or four more matches in his pocket and but a
dozen bullets and powder enough to shoot half of
them. What should he do when his matches and
ammunition were all gone?
“I dassent go to the landin’ to spend none of this
money,” thought Dan, as he seated himself on the
log beside the fire and began skinning the squirrel,
“kase folks ’ll know it’s Dave’s money I’m spendin’,
an’ then I’ll get into a furse, sure pop. Other
fellers, like them Gordons, kin get along jest as smooth
.pn +1
.bn 305.png
and easy as failin’ off’n a log, an’ here’s me who’s
been a toilin’ an’ slavin’ ever since I was knee-high
to a duck, an’ jest look at me! Whoop!” yelled
Dan, who grew angry while he thought about it.
“That’s what makes me so pizen savage agin everybody!”
Dan’s thoughts ran on in this channel as he was
dressing the squirrel and preparing it for the spit,
and while it was roasting he sat with his elbows on
his knees and his head resting on his hands, looking
steadily into the fire. But after the squirrel was
done to his satisfaction and he had eaten a portion
of it and his ravenous appetite had been somewhat
appeased, he began to take a more cheerful view of
things.
“I’ve got the money, anyhow,” thought Dan,
holding a leg of the squirrel in one hand and running
the other through the leaves that were piled
against the log on which he was sitting. “That’s
something I kin crow over. It’s a heap of comfort
to know that that thar mean pap an’ Dave of our’n
didn’t cheat me outen my share of them greenbacks
as slick as they thought they was a goin’ to. Wal,
now, whar’s them greenbacks gone to?”
Dan laid his squirrel carefully down upon a piece
.pn +1
.bn 306.png
of bark which he had provided to serve as a plate,
and kneeling beside the log, scraped away the
leaves, but without discovering the object of which
he was in search. The expression of astonishment
which came upon his face gradually gave away to a
look of alarm, and the rapid movements of his hands
grew more rapid still as the fact seemed to dawn
upon him that the box which contained his treasure
had most unaccountably disappeared. At last the
leaves were scraped away the whole length of the
log, and Dan, with a wild yell, bounded to his feet.
He stood motionless for a moment, and then dropping
on his knees again, looked under the log, thinking
that perhaps he had pushed the box under farther
than he had intended, and that it had fallen
into some little hollow out of sight. But there was
no little hollow under the log that Dan could discover,
although he ran his fingers over every inch
of the ground. Dan’s eyes seemed ready to start
from their sockets.
“It’s gone, an’ I’m a busted man,” he exclaimed,
casting frightened glances on every side of him.
“One of them thar haunts that lives in the gen’ral’s
lane has done come here an’ run off with it. This
ain’t no place fur me!”
.pn +1
.bn 307.png
Dan reached rather hurriedly for his rifle, and
was about to desert his camp with all possible haste,
when he happened to discover something that made
him take an altogether different view of the matter.
The bushes behind the log had recently been disturbed—Dan
was hunter enough to see that—and a
second look showed him that some heavy body had
passed through them. With his cocked rifle in his
hand, Dan stepped over the log to make a still closer
examination, and found that the trail that led through
the bushes was so plain that he had no difficulty in
following it. It conducted him directly to the place
where Bob Owens had been concealed while he was
watching Dan; but from that point it gradually grew
fainter, and, when it reached the more open woods,
it disappeared altogether. Almost the last sign of it
that Dan could find was the print of a boot-heel in
the soft earth. This he examined as closely as he
could, through eyes blinded with tears of vexation
and disappointment.
“’Taint pap, nor Dave, nuther,” said he, at length.
“Nary one on ’em couldn’t git them big hoofs o’
their’n into a boot with sich a heel as this yere; but
somebody was snoopin’ around not more’n five minutes
ago, an’ who could it have been? Somebody
.pn +1
.bn 308.png
’sides pap knowed I had the money; but who was
it?”
This was a question that Dan could not answer,
nor was it answered at all until long months afterward.
The loss of the money was a severe blow to
him, and he could see nothing but a gloomy future
before him. Up to this time he had felt comparatively
safe, for he knew that, if he made up his mind
to do so, he could win his way into his mother’s good
graces and David’s very easily, by simply returning
the latter’s money; but now this chance for a reconciliation
was taken from him, and the thought almost
drove him wild. How he lived through the next few
days he could not have told to save his life. He
roamed the woods day and night—his gloomy thoughts
tormented him so that he could not keep still—shivering
in the cold morning air, going hungry more
than half the time, and all the while tortured by
fears of some impending evil. At last the day came
when his matches were all expended, and he had not
a single charge of powder left in his horn. He had
resolved to make a raid on Mr. Owens’s hen-roost
that night, although he could not for the life of him
tell how he was going to cook the chickens after he
got them, and was on his way to the plantation, when
.pn +1
.bn 309.png
he came to the road which led from Rochdale to the
county-seat. As he was about to climb over the
fence, he heard the clatter of hoofs close at hand,
and drew back into the bushes just in time to escape
discovery by the approaching horseman.
.pn +1
.bn 310.png
.pb
.sp 4
.h2 id=ch17
CHAPTER XVII || CONCLUSION.
.sp 2
.dc 0.25 0.65
THE horseman came in sight a moment later, and
Dan looked at him in the greatest amazement.
It was his brother David; but what a change had
come over him since Dan last saw him at the cabin!
If he was always dressed as he was now, the people
in the settlement could no longer speak of him as
“that ragamuffin, Dave Evans.” He wore a new
suit of gray jeans, a pair of serviceable boots without
a hole in them, and—which Dan did not fail to
notice—were neatly blacked, a wide-brimmed felt
hat, and, more wonderful than all, a collar and necktie.
He was mounted on a high-stepping colt which
Dan had often seen running in General Gordon’s
stable-lot, had a saddle and bridle that looked as
though they might just have come out of the store;
and, strapped to the saddle was a mail-bag which
Dan had seen so often that he recognised it at once.
David passed swiftly along the road and was out of
.pn +1
.bn 311.png
sight in a few seconds, but Dan had plenty of time
to take in all these little details, and to note that his
brother’s face wore a happy, contented look, as if he
felt at peace with himself and all the world. Dan
contrasted his situation with his own, and grew angry
at once.
“Wal,” said he, as soon as he had recovered from
his astonishment, “if that thar little Dave of our’n
hain’t got to be a mail carrier! I done heared that
the ole one was agoin’ to quit, but who’d a thought
that one of our tribe would a stepped into his boots?
Boots, mind ye; an’ them’s something me an’ Dave
never owned afore. He must be makin’ stacks of
greenbacks, as much as ten or twelve dollars a month,
mebbe,” added Dan, laying down his rifle and leaning
half way over the fence to take another view of
the boy who was lucky enough to be earning money
so rapidly. “Now, I’ll jest tell ye what’s the gospel
truth: things must be lookin’ up to hum right peart
when thar’s that much comin’ in.”
Dan forgot that he was hungry, and did not give
another thought to the hen-roost he had made up
his mind to rob that night. He went back into the
woods and wandered aimlessly about, paying no heed
to the direction he was taking, and was presently
.pn +1
.bn 312.png
aroused from his reverie by the sound of an axe.
He looked up and was surprised and a little alarmed
to find that he was in the neighborhood of his home.
The potato cellar, which had once served as a prison
for Don Gordon, was close in front of him, and
through the tall trees, which the autumnal winds
had already stripped bare of leaves, he could see the
cabin.
Dan was about to turn away and plunge into the
woods again, when, he noticed that there was some
one at work in the yard behind the house. He was
sure that it could not be his brother, for David had
not yet had time to go to the landing and deliver
his mail. It could not be his father either, for Godfrey
was hiding in the woods as well as himself; and
besides, the man who was at work in the yard wore
a white shirt—Dan could see it plainly through the
trees—and that was something Godfrey had not
owned for long years. But Dan wanted to see who
it was, so he crept nearer to the fence, and when he
obtained a fair view of the workman he almost let
his rifle fall out of his hands in his astonishment.
It was his father after all; but Dan could hardly
bring himself to believe it until he had rubbed his
eyes two or three times and taken as many good
.pn +1
.bn 313.png
looks at him. Godfrey was dressed like a gentleman.
There was not a hole to be seen in any of
his garments, his hair and whiskers were neatly
combed, he wore a hat with a brim to it on his head,
boots instead of shoes on his feet, and, what surprised
Dan more than anything else, his sleeves were
rolled up and he was walking into the wood-pile as
if he were in earnest. Two or three times while the
boy was looking at him he stopped, took off his hat
and wiped the perspiration from his forehead.
“Wal, of all the things I ever heared tell on this
yere is the beatenest,” thought Dan, as soon as his
mind had become settled so that he could think at
all. “Looks like pap in the face, but don’t act like
I ever seed him act afore.”
Dan took another good look at his father and
asked himself what in the world could have happened
to bring him home and set him to work; and
while he was revolving the problem in his mind he
ran his eye about the premises and saw that sundry
little improvements had been made during his absence.
The little log structure which was called
the corn-crib, although Dan had never seen any
corn in it, had been thoroughly repaired, and the
golden ears protruded from every crack between the
.pn +1
.bn 314.png
slats, showing that it was well filled. The miserable
apology for a stable which sheltered the only
mule Godfrey owned had been newly covered; a
little shed had been erected against the rear wall of
the cabin and was filled to the roof with dry fire-wood;
the holes in the house had been freshly
chinked; the rags had disappeared from the windows,
their places being supplied with new lights of
glass; the chips and other rubbish that had for so
many years been accumulating in the back yard had
been cleared away; and in short, the place looked,
as Godfrey would have expressed it, as though white
folks lived there. The change was so great that
Dan could hardly argue himself into the belief that
it was his old home; and when his mother came
down the road, as she did a few minutes later, he
became fully convinced that he was either dreaming
or else that his eyes and ears had entered into a conspiracy
to deceive him. As soon as Godfrey saw
his wife coming he jumped over the fence and took
the heavy basket she was carrying out of her hand.
“Why, Godfrey, how nice things begin to look,”
exclaimed Mrs. Evans, and Dan could not remember
when he had seen her smile before.
“Don’t they, though,” replied Godfrey. “I tell
.pn +1
.bn 315.png
ye, Susie, I haint felt so peart since the good ole days
when we had niggers to do our work for us. It’s a
heap of comfort to know that yer a trifle forehanded,
aint it? The critters is well provided with shelter
an’ corn; thar’s taters enough in the cellar an’ bacon
enough in the smoke-house to run us till I kin
’arn some more; the shed is full of fire-wood; an’
now it kin blow an’ snow an’ freeze jest as soon as
it dog-gone pleases!”
Godfrey and his wife went into the cabin, and
Dan turned about and crept back into the woods.
“Things is a lookin’ up to hum right peart,” said
he, to himself, as he sat down on a log to think over
what had just transpired. “Pap’s got a pair of
store boots; Dave’s mail carrier; mam looks like a
lady; thar’s glass windows to the house, an’ here’s
me—jest look at me!” added Dan, glancing down
at his ragged clothes. “Now I’ll tell ye what’s the
gospel truth: Pap’s the feller that crept up an’
stole them greenbacks while I was out shootin’ that
squirrel,” continued Dan, who just then forgot the
conclusions at which he had arrived when he found
the print of the boot-heel in the soft earth. “He
was afeared to spend the money, so he brings it back
to Dave, makes up with him an’ the ole woman,
.pn +1
.bn 316.png
an’ everything goes as slick as ’lasses, an’ nobody
don’t care no more for me nor if I wasn’t Dan at
all.”
There are boys, and men, too, in the world who
can not bear to see other people happy, and we are
by this time well enough acquainted with Dan to
know that he was one of this class. He was not
happy—he could not be with his disposition—and
it would have afforded him infinite satisfaction if he
could have found some way to render his relations,
who now seemed to be getting on so nicely in the
world, as miserable as he was himself. It hurt him
to know that they could enjoy themselves while he
was away from home. Why didn’t they come out
into the woods and search for him, and when they
found him take him to the cabin, put good clothes
on him and act as though they were glad to see
him? “That’s what they had oughter do,” exclaimed
Dan, “an’ to pay ’em for not doin’ it I just
wish I had them hundred and sixty dollars now. I’d
like to see Dave get ’em again.”
Dan scraped a few dry leaves together under the
lee of the log, and went supperless to bed that night.
He lay almost within a stone’s throw of the cabin,
and could hear the door slam every time any one
.pn +1
.bn 317.png
passed in or out. He fell asleep just before daylight,
and when he awoke he started up in great
confusion, for he saw his brother sitting on a log
near him. Dan was not more surprised to find him
there than he was to notice that he had on another
suit of clothes and a pair of warm mittens. David
must be getting rich.
“Dan, you don’t know how glad I am to see you
again,” said David, as soon as his brother was fairly
awake. “Where in the world have you kept yourself?
Father and I have been in the woods every
day looking for you, but could find no traces of
you.”
This announcement arrested the angry words that
arose to Dan’s lips. He must have been missed at
home, or else his father and brother would not have
spent time in looking for him.
“You shake as though you were half frozen,”
continued David, glancing at his brother’s blue cold
hands and face. “Get up and come into the house
with me. There’s a good fire there.”
“Wal, I dunno,” replied Dan, sitting up on his
bed of leaves, and speaking as plainly as his chattering
teeth would permit. “Mebbe I ain’t wanted
thar.”
.pn +1
.bn 318.png
“Why, yes, you are, What put that notion into
your head?”
“Ye heared me tell pap whar yer money was, I
reckon, didn’t ye?”
“Of course I did; but I don’t bear you any ill
will for that.”
“Nor mam, nuther?”
“No, nor mother, either. I wish I had never
earned the money, for it has made us a world of
trouble. But, we’ve, begun all over again, and are
going to do better, all of us. Come on, now, Dan;
mother wants to see you, and so does father.”
But Dan didn’t know whether to come on or not.
He felt that he had forfeited all right to his home,
and that he would be justly punished if he were
never permitted to cross the threshold again. But,
he was cold, hungry, and utterly discouraged; and,
after David had argued with him a few minutes
longer, he allowed him to lift him to his feet and lead
him toward the cabin. He hesitated at the door, but
David pushed him in, and Dan was not a little
astonished at the reception that was extended to him.
His mother kissed him and cried over him, his father
wrung his hand until Dan was almost ready to cry
himself, and then he was placed in a chair in the
.pn +1
.bn 319.png
warmest corner. As soon as he could handle a knife
and fork, a plate filled with the most substantial
breakfast he had ever eaten under that roof was
passed over to him, and Dan did ample justice to it.
He was left pretty nearly to himself, for the family,
knowing what his feelings must be, did not trouble
him with any questions. He sat in his chair—it was
a chair, too, he noticed, and not a nail-keg with a
board placed over the top of it—with his head hanging
down and his chin resting on his breast; but his
eyes were roving everywhere, and they found much
to excite his wonder. The cabin had been furnished
with a new table and a few chairs during his absence;
two comfortable beds had taken the places of the
miserable “shake-downs;” the cracked and broken
dishes had given way to new ones, and everything
was as neat as it could be kept. Dan felt out of
place there.
When Godfrey and David had finished their breakfast
they sat down in front of the fire to whet their
axes, after which the former, with the remark that
they had a hundred cords of wood to cut for General
Gordon, bade his wife and Dan good-bye, and the
two left the cabin. Dan felt much more at his ease
after they were gone. The nice, warm breakfast he
.pn +1
.bn 320.png
had eaten, and the thorough thawing-out he had undergone,
brought his spirits back to him again, and
he began to make some inquiries in regard to several
little matters that had aroused his curiosity.
“Say, mam,” said he, “what brung pap hum?”
“The general was the cause of his coming home,”
replied Mrs. Evans. “He found your father in the
woods, and talked to him in such a way that he
promised to come back and turn over a new leaf;
and I am glad to say that he has done it.”
There was one thing Mrs. Evans did not tell Dan,
(probably she was not acquainted with the fact herself),
and that was, that if Godfrey had not taken
his old commander’s advice, and returned to his
home and gone to work in earnest to support his
family, he would have been in jail before another
day had passed over his head. Godfrey himself did
not know this, for the general had made no threats.
He had gained his point by argument.
“How come Dave carryin’ the mail?” asked Dan.
“The general has the contract, and he hires David
to do the work,” was the answer.
“He must be makin’ a pile of money, I reckon,
aint he?”
“Thirty dollars a month.”
.pn +1
.bn 321.png
Dan opened his eyes in great surprise. “How
much’ll that be in a year?” he asked.
“Three hundred and sixty dollars.”
“Whew! We’re gittin’ rich, aint we, mam?”
“O, no! There’s not a cent coming into the family
except what your father and David earn by their
daily labor. David is heavily in debt.”
“How came us by all these yere nice things
then?”
“Well, David had just fifty dollars in money.
Ten dollars of it he earned by breaking Don Gordon’s
pointer, and the rest he received from Silas
Jones for two young bears that were caught in that
trap on Bruin’s Island. Some of the money was
used to pay our grocery bill, and the rest was spent
on the house. David owes the general a hundred
dollars for that colt he rides, and he is worth every
cent of two hundred.”
“Wal now, mam,” said Dan, with some hesitation,
“that ain’t all the money we’uns have got. Whar’s
them greenbacks Dave got fur ketchin’ them quails?”
“Why, didn’t you cut your father’s pocket open
and take the box?” asked Mrs. Evans, while an expression
that Dan could not understand settled on
her face.
.pn +1
.bn 322.png
“I did, an’ sarved him right, too, fur tryin’ to
cheat me outen my share that he promised, honor
bright, to give me!” exclaimed Dan. “Didn’t he
give it back to Dave?”
“He certainly did not.”
“Wal, I don’t know whar it is, more’n the man in
the moon.”
Mrs. Evans’ face grew a shade paler, and, after
looking steadily at Dan for a few seconds, she leaned
back in her chair and covered her eyes with her
hand. Here was another disappointment in store
for the young mail carrier. He and his parents had
been indulging in the hope that, when Dan returned
to his home, the money for which Dave had worked
so hard would be restored to him. Dan thought, by
the way his mother looked at him, that she did not
believe his story, so he hastened to assure her that
he told nothing but the truth, following it up with a
minute account of the manner in which the thief—whoever
he was—had operated to secure possession
of the box. His mother was satisfied that he stated
the facts as they occurred, and there the matter was
dropped.
David learned of the loss of his money when he
came home that night, and although it was a severe
.pn +1
.bn 323.png
blow to him he bore up under it, rode his mail route
regularly twice a week and spent the other four days
in helping his father cut General Gordon’s wood.
Dan loitered about the house doing nothing, and
finally began to act a little more like himself. The
feeling that he had lost all his rights to a home under
his father’s roof gradually gave away to the
opinion that he was of vastly more importance than
anybody else. One day he said to his mother—
“Now, mam, I’ve waited just long enough for
’em. I don’t want to be treated this yere way no
longer. Ye hear me?”
“You have waited long enough for what?” asked
his mother.
“Fur my good clothes an’ a pair of store boots
like Dave an’ pap have got.”
“You can have them just as soon as you earn
them.”
“’Arn ’em!”
“Certainly. That is the way your father and
David got theirs.”
“An’ how long did it take ’em?” asked Dan, who
was not a little shocked and enraged to learn that
he must work for his nice things before he could own
them.
.pn +1
.bn 324.png
“About a week. You ought to earn a dollar a
day by cutting wood, and the general will give you
all the work you can do.”
“An’ while I am workin’ down thar must I wear
these yere rags?” exclaimed Dan. “I’d look purty
if Don an’ Bert should come along on them circus
hosses of their’n, an’ wearin’ their shiny boots an’
nice clothes, wouldn’t I? No, sir! I must have
something better fust. I’ll speak to Dave about it
jest as soon as he comes home to-night.”
“Why, David can’t help you,” replied his
mother. “He has to work hard for everything he
wears.”
“Can’t help me?” yelled Dan, “an’ him ’arnin’
a’most four hundred dollars a year! Ye don’t think
no more of me in this house nor if I was a yaller
dog. His credit is good at the store fur six months,
kase I done heared Silas tell him so.”
But Dan didn’t speak to David about it, for his
father spoke to him. When Godfrey came home
that night he carried on his shoulder two axes, one
of which looked as though it had just come out of
the store. He put his own axe in the corner where
it was usually kept, and with the new one in his
hand he approached Dan’s chair. “Thar, sonny,”
.pn +1
.bn 325.png
said he, cheerfully, “see what a nice present I brung
ye. It’s the fust one I’ve give ye in a long time,
aint it? Take hold on it. ’Twon’t hurt ye.”
“What shall I do with it, pap?” asked the boy,
as he took the axe in both hands, holding it as awkwardly
as though he had never touched one before.
“Wal, Dannie, I’ll tell ye,” replied Godfrey,
placing his hand on his son’s shoulder and speaking
in a confidential tone. “When the gen’ral found
me loafin’ about in the woods like a lazy wagabone
as I was, he says to me: ‘Godfrey,’ says he, ‘this
is the principle we go on up to our house: them
as don’t work can’t eat!’ I’ve thought of them
words a heap of times since I come home, an’ I
made up my mind that if rich folks do that way,
poor folks had oughter, too. Now, I notus that
yer amazin’ willin’ to set here in this yere
cheer an’ warm yourself by the fire that Dave makes
up every mornin’, an’ yer scandalous fond of drinkin’
the store-tea an’ coffee made outen the water that
he brings from the spring; but I never seed ye cut
no wood yerself nor tote no water. Now, sich doin’s
as them won’t work in this yere house no longer.
Ye’ve had a powerful long rest, an’ to-morrer mornin’
I want to see that thar new axe sharper’n a
.pn +1
.bn 326.png
razor, so’t ye kin go with me an’ Dave to chop wood
up to the gen’ral’s.”
Dan listened to this speech in silence, and could
not muster up courage enough to make an impertinent
reply, as he certainly would have done if his
father had talked to him in this way a month before.
But his father had never before talked to him in
this way. If he had yelled and flourished his fists
and jumped up and knocked his heels together, Dan
would have met him half way; but he could not understand
this quiet, earnest manner that Godfrey
seemed to have fallen into of late. He didn’t like
it either, for he was sure that it meant business.
At any rate, the axe was sharpened that night with
David’s assistance, and at daylight the next morning
Dan might have been seen in company with his
father and David wending his way toward the general’s
wood lot.
Order having been rëestablished under Godfrey’s
humble roof, and the Evans family being once more
on the road to prosperity, the little settlement of
Rochdale, which had been stirred from centre to circumference
by the incidents, exciting and amusing,
that we have attempted to describe in this series of
books, once more fell back into its old habits, and
.pn +1
.bn 327.png
peace and quietness reigned. The settlers, like so
many hibernating animals, seemed to have crawled
into their holes for their winter’s sleep, and only
showed themselves to the world on mail-days, or when
five long whistles announced that some steamer was
about to touch at the landing. On these occasions
it was remarked that two persons, who had never
been known to miss a boat or a mail-day, no matter
what the weather might be, were never seen at the
landing now. They were Godfrey Evans and Dan.
The latter, at first, would have been glad to resume
his lazy habits, but his father kept him steadily at
work, and at the end of the first week presented
him with the money he had earned. This was a
great encouragement to Dan, and from that time forward
work was not quite so distasteful to him. Dan
doesn’t hunt as much now as he did a few months
ago, and neither does he own a breech-loading shot-gun;
but he is a thrifty, hard-working boy, and has
placed a very nice little sum of money in Don Gordon’s
hands for safe-keeping, besides refunding that
ten dollars, the loss of which had occasioned David
so much trouble and anxiety.
As for Godfrey, there was no sham about his
reformation. He went to work in earnest to make
amends for the long years he had spent in idleness,
.pn +1
.bn 328.png
and, in order that he might begin right, he told the
general the story of that highway robbery, and
handed over to him the first twenty dollars he could
save out of his earnings, with the request that it
might be forwarded to Clarence Gordon’s father.
Then he breathed easier. He felt as if a mountain
had been removed from his shoulders.
Don and Bert Gordon kept on the even tenor of
their way, and, having seen David established as
mail carrier, set to work, with the assistance of Fred
and Joe Packard, to build another shooting-box on
the site of the one that was burned by Lester Brigham
and Bob Owens. They knew now that it was
not Godfrey Evans who set fire to it, for their father
told them so: but he did not tell them who the guilty
ones were, and they never tried to find out. The
new shooting-box was finished in a week’s time, and,
as Don had predicted, it threw the old one far into
the shade. Lester Brigham went over there one
night to look at it, but he left it just as he found it.
Lester was not the boy he was once. He was as
much alone in the world as though there had not
been another youth of his age within a hundred
miles of him. How he passed his time no one knew
or cared to ask. He often thought of his old friend,
.pn +1
.bn 329.png
Bob Owens, and wondered what had become of him.
Of course everybody knew that he had run away
from home, but no one dreamed that he took David’s
money with him when he went. The general impression
seemed to be that Godfrey and Dan could
produce it at any moment, if they saw fit to do so.
David faithfully fulfilled the duties of mail carrier
during the winter, and at the end of six months he
was all out of debt, and had a nice little sum of
money laid by for a rainy day. One morning he
rode down to the post-office after the mail that was
to be carried to the county-seat, and Silas Jones
handed him the following note, which he read as he
galloped along:
.sp 2
.pm letter-start
.ti +4
“Friend David:
It may surprise you to know that father has just
turned over to me the hundred dollars you paid him
for that colt, and that I hold it subject to your order.
Father intended to return it to you all the time, and
to make you a present of the horse; but he didn’t
let anybody know it, for he wanted you to believe
that you had got to work for your nag before you
could own him. He doesn’t want you to get into
the way of leaning upon any one, or of thinking
that you will always have a friend to lend you a
.pn +1
.bn 330.png
hand when you get into a tight place. You have
shown him that you are able and willing to take care
of yourself, and so he wants to help you.
.ti +10
Yours,
.ti +15
Don Gordon.”
.pm letter-end
.sp 2
It was, indeed, a surprise to David. He was just
a hundred dollars richer than he thought he was.
During his ride he could think of nothing but the
general’s kindness, and he made the mental resolution
that he would prove himself worthy of it. When
he returned to the landing that afternoon, he waited
until Silas had distributed the mail, in order to purchase
some groceries for his mother, and found that
there was another surprise in store for him. When
the postmaster gave him the general’s mail, which
David always carried home now, he gave him also a
letter addressed to himself. He did not recognise
the handwriting, so he did as a good many people do
when they receive letters from an unknown source:
he looked at the envelope, and tried to guess whom
it was from. Then he put the general’s mail into
his pocket, took his purchases under his arm, mounted
his horse, and having started him toward home
pulled out the letter again and tore off the envelope.
The first thing that caught his eye was a check for
fifty dollars.
.pn +1
.bn 331.png
“There!” exclaimed the young mail carrier, “I’ve
opened a letter intended for somebody else; but if
there’s another Dave Evans about here, I don’t know
him.”
David looked at the check again, then at the signature
at the bottom of the letter. It was from Bob
Owens, and read as follows:
.pm letter-start
“No doubt you will be surprised when you receive
this, for I don’t suppose that you or anybody else in
Rochdale ever expected to hear from me again. I
owe you a hundred and sixty dollars and fifty
cents, and hand you herewith a check for fifty of it.
It is the first money I ever earned in my life. I
should have been glad to send it before, but this is
the first I have received. I am a private soldier in
the regular army. My pay is small, and out of it I
have to buy everything I wear, so my savings do not
amount to any great sum. You probably know by
this time how I came into possession of the money.
I followed Dan to his camp, saw him hide the box
under a log, and go out to shoot a squirrel for his
breakfast. When he was out of sight I slipped up
and took the box, and ran away from home to spend
the money. I have never regretted the act but once,
and that has been every moment I have lived since I
left Mississippi. I hope you have not suffered for
.pn +1
.bn 332.png
want of the money. Have all the patience with me
you can, and I will send you the rest just as soon
as I can earn it.”
.pm letter-end
Then followed a postscript requesting David to
acknowledge the receipt of the money, and telling
him where to send his letter. It also contained the
information that Bob had just written a letter to his
father (he said he knew he did wrong in keeping
him in suspense so long, but he could not find it in
his heart to write to him until he could tell him that
he had taken the first step toward making amends
for some of his misdeeds), and, for fear that the
letter might miscarry, he (Bob) would be glad if
David would see Mr. Owens, and give him his son’s
address.
“That clears Dan, and father, too,” said David,
as soon as he had found his tongue. “I didn’t want
to think hard of them while they are trying their
best to do what is right, but somehow I couldn’t
help feeling that that money was hidden in the
woods, and that it would some day be brought out
for the benefit of somebody besides mother and myself.
Am I not the luckiest fellow in the world?
Whatever else Bob Owens may be now, he is an
honest boy.”
This was the opinion of everybody who heard of
.pn +1
.bn 333.png
this act of reparation on the part of the runaway.
It made him more popular in the settlement than he
had ever been while he was at home. People now
remembered of reading in the newspapers a long account
of the coolness and courage he had exhibited
on the night the Sam Kendall was burned; and
some of those who had had the most to say about
Bob, when he first ran away, now began to see that
there were some good things in him, and predicted
that he would come out all right in the end. Bob
is in the army now. He is on the plains, among
the Indians, right where he wanted to be; but he
would be glad, indeed, if he were a long way from
there. The only thing that prevented him from
being with General Custer, when that gallant soldier
and his command were massacred by Sitting Bull
and his warriors, was the receipt of an order, that
very morning, detailing him as one of the guard of a
wagon-train. Bob doesn’t think as much of that
wild country as he did once. His feelings have undergone
a very great change since the day he stole
the money belonging to the Mail Carrier.
.sp 4
.nf c
THE END.
.nf-
.sp 4
.pn +1
.bn 334.png
.pb
.sp 4
.ce
Famous Castlemon Books.
.hr 20%
No author of the present day has become a greater favorite
with boys than “Harry Castlemon,” every book by him is sure
to meet with hearty reception by young readers generally. His
naturalness and vivacity leads his readers from page to page
with breathless interest, and when one volume is finished the
fascinated reader, like Oliver Twist, asks “for more.”
.hr 20%
.nf c
By Harry Castlemon.
.nf-
.hr 5%
.in 4
.ti -2
GUNBOAT SERIES. By Harry Castlemon. In
box containing the following. 6 vols. 16mo. Cloth,
extra, black and gold $7 50
(Sold separately.)
.ti -2
Frank the Young Naturalist. Illustrated. 16mo. 1 25
.ti -2
Frank in the Woods. Illustrated. 16mo. 1 25
.ti -2
Frank on the Prairie. Illustrated. 16mo. 1 25
.ti -2
Frank on a Gunboat. Illustrated. 16mo. 1 25
.ti -2
Frank before Vicksburg. Illustrated. 16mo. 1 25
.ti -2
Frank on the Lower Mississippi. Illustrated.
16mo. 1 25
.sp 2
.ti -2
GO AHEAD SERIES. By Harry Castlemon. In
box containing the following. 3 vols. 16mo. Cloth,
extra, black and gold 4 50
(Sold separately.)
.pn +1
.bn 335.png
.ti -2
Go Ahead; or, The Fisher Boy’s Motto. Illustrated.
16mo. $1 50
.ti -2
No Moss; or, The Career of a Rolling Stone. Illustrated.
16mo. 1 50
.ti -2
Tom Newcombe; or, The Boy of Bad Habits.
Illustrated. 16mo. 1 50
.sp 2
.ti -2
ROCKY MOUNTAIN SERIES. By Harry
Castlemon. In box containing the following. 3 vols.
16mo. Cloth, extra, black and gold 3 75
(Sold separately.)
.ti -2
Frank at Don Carlos’ Rancho. Illustrated. 16mo. 1 25
.ti -2
Frank among the Rancheros. Illustrated. 16mo. 1 25
.ti -2
Frank in the Mountains. Illustrated. 16mo. 1 25
.sp 2
.ti -2
SPORTSMAN’S CLUB SERIES. By Harry
Castlemon. In box containing the following. 3 vols.
16mo. Cloth, extra, black and gold 3 75
(Sold separately.)
.ti -2
The Sportsman’s Club in the Saddle. Illustrated.
16mo. Cloth, extra, black and gold 1 25
.ti -2
The Sportsman’s Club Afloat. Being the 2d volume
of the “Sportsman’s Club Series.” Illustrated.
16mo. Cloth, extra, black and gold 1 25
.ti -2
The Sportsman’s Club among the Trappers.
Being the 3d volume of the “Sportsman’s Club
Series.” Illustrated. 16mo. Cloth, extra, black and
gold 1 25
.sp 2
.ti -2
FRANK NELSON SERIES. By Harry Castlemon.
In box containing the following. 3 vols. 16mo.
Cloth, extra, black and gold 3 75
(Sold separately.)
.ti -2
Snowed up; or, The Sportsman’s Club in the
Mountains. Illustrated. 16mo. 1 25
.ti -2
Frank Nelson in the Forecastle; or, the Sportsman’s
Club among the Whalers. Illustrated. 16mo. 1 25
.ti -2
The Boy Traders; or, The Sportsman’s Club among
the Boers. Illustrated. 16mo. 1 25
.pn +1
.bn 336.png
.sp 2
.ti -2
BOY TRAPPER SERIES. By Harry Castlemon.
In box containing the following. 3 vols. 16mo.
Cloth, extra, black and gold $3 75
(Sold separately.)
.ti -2
The Buried Treasure; or, Old Jordan’s “Haunt.”
Being the 1st volume of the “Boy Trapper Series.”
Illustrated. 16mo. 1 25
.ti -2
The Boy Trapper; or, How Dave filled the Order.
Being the 2d volume of the “Boy Trapper Series.”
Illustrated. 16mo. 1 25
.ti -2
The Mail Carrier. Being the 3d and concluding volume
of the “Boy Trapper Series.” Illustrated. 16mo. 1 25
.sp 2
.ti -2
ROUGHING IT SERIES. By Harry Castlemon.
In box containing the following. 3 vols. Cloth,
extra, black and gold 3 75
(Sold separately.)
.ti -2
George in Camp; or, Life on the Plains. Being the
1st volume of the “Roughing It Series.” Illustrated.
16mo. 1 25
.ti -2
George at the Wheel; or, Life in a Pilot-House.
Being the 2d volume of the “Roughing It Series.”
Illustrated. 16mo. 1 25
.ti -2
George at the Fort; or, Life Among the Soldiers.
Being the 3d and concluding volume of the “Roughing
It Series.” Illustrated. 16mo. 1 25
.sp 2
.ti -2
ROD AND GUN SERIES. By Harry Castlemon.
In box containing the following. 3 vols. Cloth,
extra, black and gold 3 75
(Sold separately).
.ti -2
Don Gordon’s Shooting-Box. Being the 1st volume
of the “Rod and Gun Series.” Illustrated.
16mo. 1 25
.ti -2
Rod and Gun. Being the second volume of the
“Rod and Gun Series.” Illustrated. 16mo. 1 25
.ti -2
The Young Wild Flowers. Being the third volume
of the “Rod and Gun Series.” Illustrated. 16mo. 1 25
.in 0
.pn +1
.bn 337.png
.pb
.sp 4
.nf c
Alger’s Renowned Books.
.nf-
.hr 25%
Horatio Alger, Jr., has attained distinction as one of the most
popular writers of books for boys, and the following list comprises
all of his best books.
.hr 25%
.nf c
By Horatio Alger, Jr.
.nf-
.hr 15%
.sp 2
.in 4
.ti -2
RAGGED DICK SERIES. By Horatio Alger,
Jr., in box containing the following. 6 vols. 16mo.
Cloth, extra, black and gold $7 50
(Sold separately.)
.ti -2
Ragged Dick; or, Street Life in New York. Illustrated.
16mo. 1 25
.ti -2
Fame and Fortune; or, The Progress of Richard
Hunter. Illustrated. 16mo. 1 25
.ti -2
Mark the Match Boy; or, Richard Hunter’s Ward.
Illustrated. 16mo. 1 25
.ti -2
Rough and Ready; or, Life among the New York
Newsboys. Illustrated. 16mo. 1 25
.ti -2
Ben the Luggage Boy; or, Among the Wharves.
Illustrated. 16mo. 1 25
.ti -2
Rufus and Rose; or, The Fortunes of Rough and
Ready. Illustrated. 16mo. 1 25
.sp 2
.ti -2
TATTERED TOM SERIES. (First Series.)
By Horatio Alger, Jr., in box containing the following.
4 vols. 16mo. Cloth, extra, black and gold 5 00
.ti -2
(Sold separately.)
.ti -2
Tattered Tom; or, The Story of a Street Arab. Illustrated.
16mo. 1 25
.ti -2
Paul the Peddler; or, The Adventures of a Young
Street Merchant. Illustrated. 16mo. 1 25
.ti -2
Phil the Fiddler; or, The Young Street Musician.
Illustrated. 16mo. 1 25
.pn +1
.bn 338.png
.ti -2
Slow and Sure; or, From the Sidewalk to the Shop.
Illustrated. 16mo. $1 25
.sp 2
.ti -2
TATTERED TOM SERIES. (Second Series.)
In box containing the following. 4 vols. Cloth,
extra, black and gold 5 00
(Sold separately.)
.ti -2
Julius; or, The Street Boy Out West. Illust’d. 16mo. 1 25
.ti -2
The Young Outlaw; or, Adrift in the World. Illustrated.
16mo. 1 25
.ti -2
Sam’s Chance and How He Improved it. Illustrated.
16mo. 1 25
.ti -2
The Telegraph Boy. Illustrated. 16mo. 1 25
.sp 2
.ti -2
LUCK AND PLUCK SERIES. (First Series.)
By Horatio Alger, Jr., in box containing the following.
4 vols. 16mo. Cloth, extra, black and gold 6 00
.ti -2
(Sold separately.)
.ti -2
Luck and Pluck; or, John Oakley’s Inheritance.
Illustrated. 16mo. 1 50
.ti -2
Sink or Swim; or, Harry Raymond’s Resolve. Illustrated.
16mo. 1 50
.ti -2
Strong and Steady; or, Paddle Your Own Canoe.
Illustrated. 16mo. 1 50
.ti -2
Strive and Succeed; or, The Progress of Walter
Conrad. Illustrated. 16mo. 1 50
.sp 2
.ti -2
LUCK AND PLUCK SERIES. (Second
Series.) In box containing the following. 4 vols.
16mo. Cloth, extra, black and gold 6 00
(Sold separately.)
.ti -2
Try and Trust; or, The Story of a Bound Boy. Illustrated.
16mo. 1 50
.ti -2
Bound to Rise; or, How Harry Walton Rose in the
World. Illustrated. 16mo. 1 50
.ti -2
Risen from the Ranks; or, Harry Walton’s Success.
Illustrated. 16mo. 1 50
.ti -2
Herbert Carter’s Legacy; or, The Inventor’s Son.
Illustrated, 16mo. 1 50
.pn +1
.bn 339.png
.sp 2
.ti -2
BRAVE AND BOLD SERIES. By Horatio
Alger, Jr., in box containing the following. 4 vols.
16mo. Cloth, extra, black and gold $6 00
(Sold separately.)
.ti -2
Brave and Bold; or, The Story of a Factory Boy.
Illustrated. 16mo. 1 50
.ti -2
Jack’s Ward; or, The Boy Guardian. Illustrated.
16mo. 1 50
.ti -2
Shifting for Himself; or, Gilbert Greyson’s Fortunes.
Illustrated. 16mo. 1 50
.ti -2
Wait and Hope; or, Ben Bradford’s Motto. Illustrated.
16mo. 1 50
.sp 2
.ti -2
CAMPAIGN SERIES. By Horatio Alger, Jr., in
box containing the following. 3 vols. 16mo. Cloth,
extra, black and gold 3 75
(Sold separately.)
.ti -2
Frank’s Campaign; or, the Farm and the Camp.
Illustrated. 16mo. 1 25
.ti -2
Paul Prescott’s Charge. Illustrated. 16mo. 1 25
.ti -2
Charlie Codman’s Cruise. Illustrated. 16mo. 1 25
.sp 2
.ti -2
PACIFIC SERIES. By Horatio Alger, Jr. 4 vols.
16mo. Cloth, extra, black and gold 5 00
(Sold separately.)
.ti -2
The Young Adventurer; or, Tom’s Trip Across
the Plains. Illustrated. 16mo. 1 25
.ti -2
The Young Miner; or, Tom Nelson in California.
Illustrated. 16mo. 1 25
.ti -2
The Young Explorer; or, Among the Sierras. Illustrated.
16mo. 1 25
.ti -2
Ben’s Nugget; or, A Boy’s Search for Fortune. A
Story of the Pacific Coast. Illustrated. 16mo. 1 25
.hr 20%
.ti -2
The Young Circus Rider; or, The Mystery of
Robert Rudd. Being the 1st volume of the “Atlantic
Series.” Illustrated. 16mo. Cloth, extra, black
and gold 1 25
.sp 2
.pb
\_
.ul
.it Transcriber’s Notes:
.ul indent=1
.it Missing or obscured punctuation was corrected.
.it Typographical errors were silently corrected.
.it Inconsistent spelling and hyphenation was made consistent\
only when a predominant form was found in this book.
.if t
.it Text that was in italics is enclosed by underscores (_italics_).
.if-
.ul-
.ul-