Alger Horatio Jr.
Strong and Steady
CHAPTER XXXIV.
DELIVERANCE
Jack might have waded back again across the ditch without inflicting much additional damage upon his already wet and miry clothing; but he fancied that Walter was in his power, and hoped he would capitulate. To this end, he saw that it was necessary to reassure him, and deceive him as to his own intentions.
"Come across, boy," he said, softening his tone. "You needn't be afraid. I didn't mean nothing. I was only tryin' to see if I couldn't frighten you a little."
"I'm very well off where I am," said Walter. "I think I'll stay where I am."
"You won't want to stay there all day."
"I'd rather stay here all day than be on the same side with you."
"You needn't be afraid."
"I am not afraid," said Walter.
"You think I want to hurt you."
"I think I am safer on this side."
"Come, boy, I'll make a bargain with you. You've put me to a good deal of trouble."
"I don't see that."
"You locked me up in the closet, and you've kept me all night huntin' after you."
"You were not obliged to hunt after me, and as for locking you up in the closet, it was the only way I had of saving my money."
Jack did not care to answer Walter's argument, but proceeded: "Now I've got you sure, but I'll do the fair thing. If you'll come across and pay me ten dollars for my trouble, I'll let you go without hurtin' you."
"What's to prevent you taking all my money, if you get me over there?"
"Haven't I said I wouldn't?"
"You might forget your promise," said Walter, whose confidence in Jack's word was by no means great. A man who would steal probably would not be troubled by many scruples on the subject of violating his word.
"If you don't come, I'll take every cent, and give you a beating beside," said Jack, his anger gaining the ascendency.
"Well, what are you goin' to do about it?" demanded Jack, after a brief pause.
"I'll stay where I am."
"I can come over any time, and get hold of you."
"Perhaps you can," said Walter. "I'll take the risk."
"I'll wait a while," thought Jack. "He'll come round after a while."
He sat down, and taking a clay pipe from his pocket, filled the bowl with tobacco, and commenced smoking. Walter perceived that he was besieged, but kept cool, and clung to his plank, which was his only hope of safety. He began to speculate as to the length of time the besieging force would hold out. He was already hungry, and there was a prospect of his being starved into a surrender, or there would have been, if luckily his opponent had not been also destitute of provisions. In fact, the besieging party soon became disorganized from this cause. A night in the open air had given keenness to Jack's appetite, and he felt an uncomfortable craving for food.
"I wish Meg would come along," he muttered. "I feel empty."
But Meg did not come. She stood for a few minutes in the edge of the woods, and watched her husband's pursuit of Walter. She saw his failure to overtake his intended victim, and this made her easier in her mind. I do not wish to represent her as better than she was. Her anxiety was chiefly for her husband. She did not wish him to commit any act of violence which would put him without the pale of the law. It was this consideration, rather than a regard for Walter's safety, that influenced her, though she felt some slight interest in our hero. She went home, feeling that she could do no good in staying. Jack resented her disappearance.
"She might know I wanted some breakfast," he growled to himself. "As long as she gets enough to eat herself, she cares little for me."
This censure was not deserved. Meg was not a good woman, but she was devoted to the coarse brute whom she called husband, and was at any time ready to sacrifice her own comfort to his.
Two hours passed, and still besieger and besieged eyed each other from opposite sides of the bank. Jack grew more and more irritable as the cravings of his appetite increased, and the slight hope that Meg might appear with some breakfast was dissipated. Walter also became more hungry, but showed no signs of impatience.
At this time a boy was seen coming across the meadow. Jack espied him, and the idea struck him that he might through him lay in a stock of provisions.
"Come here, boy," he said. "Where do you live?"
The boy pointed to a small farm-house half a mile distant.
"Do you want to earn some money?"
"I dunno," said the boy, who had no objections to the money, but, knowing Jack's shady reputation, was in doubt as to what was expected of him.
"Go home, and get a loaf of bread and some cold meat, and bring me, and I'll give you half a dollar."
"Didn't you bring your luncheon?" asked the boy.
"No, I came away without it, and I can't spare time to go back."
It occurred to the boy, noticing Jack's lazy posture, that business did not appear to be very driving with the man whose time was so valuable.
"Perhaps mother won't give me the bread and meat," he said.
"You can give her half the money."
The boy looked across to Walter, wondering what kept him on the other side. Our hero saw a chance of obtaining help.
"I'll give you a dollar," he called out, "if you'll go and tell somebody that this man is trying to rob me of all my money. I slept in his house last night, and he tried to rob me there. Now he will do the same if he can get hold of me."
"If you tell that, I'll wring your neck," exclaimed Jack. "It's all a lie. The boy slept at my house, as he says, and stole some money from me. He escaped, but I'm bound to get it back if I stay here all day."
"That is not true," said Walter. "Carry my message, and I will give you a dollar, and will, besides, reward the men that come to my assistance." The boy looked from one to the other in doubt what to do.
"If you want your head broke, you'll do as he says," said Jack, rather uneasy. "He won't pay what he promises."
"You shall certainly be paid," said Walter.
"You'd better shut up, or it'll be the worse for you," growled Jack. "Go and get my breakfast quick, boy, and I'll pay you the fifty cents."
"All right," said the boy, "I'll go."
He turned, but when he was behind Jack, so that the latter could not observe him, he made a sign to Walter that he would do as he wished.
Fifteen minutes later Jack rose to his feet. An idea had occurred to him. At the distance of a furlong there was a rail-fence. It occurred to him that one of these rails would enable him to cross the ditch, and get at his victim. He was not afraid Walter would escape, since he could easily turn back and capture him if he ventured across.
Walter did not understand his design in leaving the ditch. Was it possible that he meant to raise the siege? This seemed hardly probable. He watched, with some anxiety, the movements of his foe, fearing some surprise.
When Jack reached the fence, and began to pull out one of the rails he understood his object. His position was evidently becoming more dangerous.
Jack came back with a triumphant smile upon his face.
"Now, you young cub," he said, "I've got you!"
Walter watched him warily, and lowered the plank, ready to convert it into a bridge as soon as necessary. Jack put down the rail. It was long enough to span the ditch, but was rather narrow, so that some caution was needful in crossing it. Walter had moved several rods farther up, and thrown the plank across. Though his chances of escape from the peril that menaced him seemed to have diminished since his enemy was also provided with a bridge and it became now a question of superior speed, Walter was not alarmed. Indeed his prospects of deliverance appeared brighter than ever, for he caught sight of two men approaching across the meadow, and he suspected that they were sent by the boy whom he had hired. These men had not yet attracted the attention of Jack, whose back was turned towards them. He crossed the rail, and, at the same time, Walter crossed the plank. This he threw across, and then, leaving it on the bank, set out on a quick run.
"Now I'll catch him," thought Jack, with exultation; but he quickly caught sight of our hero's reinforcements. He saw that his game was up, and he abandoned it. His reputation was too well known in the neighborhood for the story he had told to the boy to gain credence. He was forced to content himself with shaking his fist at Walter, and then, in discomfiture, returned to the woods, where he made up for his disappointment by venting his spite on Meg. She would have fared worse, had he known that Walter had found his way out of the wood through her guidance.
CHAPTER XXXV.
THE LAST OF JACK MANGUM
"What's the matter?" asked one of the two men as Walter came up.
"I got lost in the woods, and passed the night in that man's house," said our hero. "He tried to rob me, but I locked him in the closet, and jumped out of the window and escaped. This morning he got on my track, and would have caught me but for the ditch."
"You locked him in the closet!" repeated the other. "How were you able to do that? You are only a boy, while he is a strong man."
Walter explained the matter briefly.
"That was pretty smart," said Peter Halcomb, for this was the name of the man who questioned him. "You're able to take care of yourself."
"I don't know how it would turn out, if you hadn't come up."
"I happened to be at home when my boy came and told me that Jack Mangum had offered him fifty cents for some breakfast. He told me about you also, and, as I suspected Jack was up to some of his tricks, I came along."
"I am very much obliged to you," said Walter, "and I hope you'll let me pay you for your trouble."
"I don't want any pay, but you may pay my boy what you promised him, if you want to."
"I certainly will; and I never paid away money with more pleasure. As I haven't had anything to eat since yesterday afternoon, I should like to have you direct me to the nearest place where I can get some breakfast."
"Come to my house; I guess my wife can scare up some breakfast for you. She'll be glad to see the boy that got the better of Jack Mangum."
"How long has this Jack Mangum lived about here?" asked Walter, after accepting with thanks the offer of a breakfast.
"About five years. He's been in the county jail twice during that time, and there's a warrant out for him now. He's a confirmed thief. He'd rather steal any time than earn an honest living."
"Has he ever stolen anything from you?"
"I've missed some of my chickens from time to time, and, though I didn't catch him taking them, I've no doubt he was the thief. Once I lost a lamb, and I suppose it went in the same direction."
"So there is a warrant out for him now?"
"Yes, and I expect he'll be taken in a day or two. In that case he'll have the privilege of a few months' free board in the county jail."
"Where is the jail?"
"In T–."
"That's the town I'm going to."
"Is it? Do your folks live there?"
"No, I'm travelling on business."
"What's your business?" asked the farmer.
The question was an abrupt one, but was not meant to be rude. In country towns everybody feels that he has a right to become acquainted with the business of any one with whom he comes in contact, even in its minutest details. Walter understood this, having himself lived in a country village, and answered without taking offence:—
"I am a book-agent."
"Be you? How do you make it pay?"
"Pretty well, but I can tell better by and by; I've only been in it a week."
"You're pretty young to be a book-peddler Where do your folks live?"
"In New York."
"You've come some ways from home."
"Yes; I thought I should like to see the country."
"How old are you?"
"Fifteen."
"You'll make a smart man if you keep on."
"I hope I shall," said Walter, modestly; "but I am afraid you overrate me."
"I'll tell you what I judge from. A boy of fifteen that can get the better of Jack Mangum is smart, and no mistake."
"I hope I shall realize your prediction," returned Walter, who naturally felt pleased with the compliment. Like most boys, he liked to be considered smart, although he did not allow himself to be puffed up by inordinate ideas of his own importance, as is the case with many of his age.
While this conversation was going on, they had been walking towards the farm-house in which Peter Holcomb lived. It was an humble one-story building, with an attic above. On each side of it were broad fields, some under cultivation; and there was an appearance of thrift and comfort despite the smallness of the house.
"Come in," said Peter, leading the way. "John," he added, addressing the hired man, who had accompanied him, "you may go into the potato field and hoe. I'll be out directly."
Walter followed him into a broad, low room,—the kitchen,—in which Mrs. Holcomb, a pleasant looking woman, was engaged in cooking.
"Mary," said her husband, "can't you scare up some breakfast for this young man? He stopped at Jack Mangum's last night, and didn't like his accommodations well enough to stay to breakfast."
"You don't say so," repeated Mrs. Holcomb her countenance expressing curiosity. "That's about the last place I'd want to stop at."
"I shouldn't want to go there again," said Walter; "but I didn't know anything about the man, or I would rather have stayed out in the woods."
"Well, Mary, how about the breakfast?"
"I guess I can find some," said she. "Sit right down here, and I'll see what I can do for you."
She went to the pantry, and speedily reappeared with some cold meat, a loaf of bread, and some fresh butter, which she placed on the table.
"I've got some hot water," she said, "and, in about five minutes, I can give you some warm tea. It won't be much of a breakfast, but if you'll stop for dinner, I can give you something better."
"It looks nice," said Walter, "and I don't know when I have been so hungry."
At this moment the farmer's boy, who had served as Walter's messenger, came into the kitchen.
"You got away," he said, smiling.
"Yes, thanks to you," said Walter. "Here is what I promised you."
"I don't know as I ought to take it," said the boy, hesitating, though he evidently wanted it.
"You will do me a favor by accepting it," said Walter. "You got me out of a bad scrape. Besides, you had a chance to earn some money from Jack Mangum."
"I wouldn't have done anything for him, at any rate. He's a thief."
Finally Peter, for he was named after his father, accepted the dollar, and, sitting down by Walter, asked him about his adventure in the wood, listening with great interest to the details.
"I wouldn't have dared to do as you did," he said.
"Perhaps you would if you had been obliged to."
By this time the tea was steeped, and Walter's breakfast was before him. He made so vigorous an onslaught upon the bread and meat that he was almost ashamed of his appetite; but Mrs. Holcomb evidently felt flattered at the compliment paid to her cookery, and watched the demolition of the provisions with satisfaction.
"You had better stop to dinner," she said. "We shall have some roast meat and apple-pudding."
"Thank you," said Walter; "but I have eaten enough to last me for several hours. Can you tell me how far it is to the next town?"
"About five miles. I'm going to ride over there in about an hour. If you'll wait till then I'll take you over."
Walter very readily consented to wait. He was rather afraid that if he ventured to walk he might find Jack Mangum waiting to waylay him somewhere in the road, and he had no desire for a second encounter with him.
The farmer absolutely refused to accept pay for breakfast, though Walter urged it. It was contrary to his ideas of hospitality.
"We don't keep a tavern," he said; "and we never shall miss the little you ate. Come again and see us if you come back this way."
"Thank you," said Walter, "I will accept your invitation with pleasure, but I shall not feel like calling on Mr. Mangum."
"I've no doubt he would be glad to see you," said Peter Holcomb, smiling.
"Yes, he was very sorry to have me leave him last night."
Walter thought he had seen the last of Jack Mangum; but he was mistaken. Three days later, while walking in the main street of T–, with a book under his arm, for he had received a fresh supply from the agent at Cleveland, he heard the sound of wheels. Looking up, he saw a wagon approaching, containing two men. One of them, as he afterwards learned, was the sheriff. The other he immediately recognized as Jack Mangum. There was no mistaking his sinister face and forbidding scowl. He had been taken early that morning by the sheriff, who, with a couple of men to assist him, had visited the cabin in the forest, and, despite the resistance offered by Jack, who was aided by his wife, he had been bound, and was now being conveyed to jail. He also looked up and recognized Walter. His face became even more sinister, as he shook his fist at our hero.
"I'll be even with you some day, you young cub!" he exclaimed.
"Not if I can help it," thought Walter; but he did not answer in words.
He was rather gratified to hear the next day that Jack had been sentenced to six months' imprisonment. He felt some pity, however, for Meg, who might have been a good woman if she had been married to a different man.
CHAPTER XXXVI.
JOSHUA BIDS GOOD-BY TO STAPLETON
Leaving Walter busily engaged in selling books, we will glance at the Drummond household, and inquire how the members of that interesting family fared after Walter's departure.
Joshua's discontent increased daily. He was now eighteen, and his father absolutely refused to increase his allowance of twenty-five cents a week, which was certainly ridiculously small for a boy of his age.
"If you want money you must work for it," he said.
"How much will you give me if I will go into your store?" asked Joshua.
"Fifty cents a week and your board."
"I get my board now."
"You don't earn it."
"I don't see why I need to," said Joshua. "Aint you a rich man?"
"No, I'm not," said his father; "and if I were I am not going to waste my hard-earned money on supporting you extravagantly."
"There's no danger of that," sneered Joshua, "We live meaner than any family in town."
"You needn't find fault with your victuals, as long as you get them free," retorted his father.
"If you'll give me two dollars a week, I'll come into the store."
"Two dollars!" exclaimed Mr. Drummond. "Are you crazy?"
"You think as much of a cent as most people do of a dollar," said Joshua, bitterly. "Two dollars isn't much for the son of a rich man."
"I have already told you that I am not rich."
"You can't help being rich," said Joshua, "for you don't spend any money."
"I've heard enough of your impudence," said his father, angrily. "If you can get more wages than I offer you, you are at liberty to engage anywhere else."
"Tom Burton gets a dollar and a quarter a day for pegging shoes," said Joshua. "He dresses twice as well as I do."
"He has to pay his board out of it."
"He only pays three dollars a week, and that leaves him four dollars and a half clear."
"So you consider Tom Burton better off than you are?"
"Yes."
"Then I'll make you an offer. I'll get you a place in a shoe-shop, and let you have all you earn over and above three dollars a week, which you can pay for your board."
Joshua seemed by no means pleased with this proposal.
"I'm not going to work in a shoe-shop," he said, sullenly.
"Why not?"
"It's a dirty business."
"Yet you were envying Tom Burton just now."
"It'll do well enough for him. He's a poor man's son."
"So was I a poor man's son. I had to work when I was a boy, and that's the way I earned all I have. Not that I am rich," added Mr. Drummond, cautiously, for he was afraid the knowledge of his wealth would tempt his family to expect a more lavish expenditure, and this would not by any means suit him.
"You didn't work in a shoe-shop."
"I should have been glad of the chance to do it, for I could have earned more money that way than by being errand-boy in a store. It's just as honorable to work in a shop as to be clerk in a store."
Though we are not partial to Mr. Drummond, he was undoubtedly correct in this opinion, and it would be well if boys would get over their prejudice against trades, which, on the whole, offer more assured prospects of ultimate prosperity than the crowded city and country stores.
This conversation was not particularly satisfactory to Joshua. As he now received his board and twenty-five cents a week, he did not care to enter his father's store for only twenty-five cents a week more. Probably it would have been wiser for Mr. Drummond to grant his request, and pay him two dollars a week. With this inducement Joshua might have formed habits of industry. He would, at all events, have been kept out of mischief, and it would have done him good to earn his living by hard work. Mr. Drummond's policy of mortifying his pride by doling out a weekly pittance so small that it kept him in a state of perpetual discontent was far from wise. Most boys appreciate considerable liberality, and naturally expect to be treated better as they grow older. Joshua, now nearly nineteen, found himself treated like a boy of twelve, and he resented it. It set him speculating about his father's death, which would leave him master, as he hoped, of the "old man's" savings. It is unfortunate when such a state of feeling comes to exist between a father and a son. The time came, and that speedily, when Mr. Drummond bitterly repented that he had not made some concessions to Joshua.
Finding his father obstinate, Joshua took refuge at first in sullenness, and for several days sat at the table without speaking a word to his father, excepting when absolutely obliged to do so. Mr. Drummond, however, was not a sensitive man, and troubled himself very little about Joshua's moods.
"He'll get over it after a while," he said to himself. "If he'd rather hold his tongue, I don't care."
Next Joshua began to consider whether there was any way in which to help himself.
"If I only had a hundred dollars," he thought, "I'd go to New York, and see if I couldn't get a place in a store."
That, he reflected, would be much better and more agreeable than being in a country store. He would be his own master, and would be able to put on airs of importance whenever he came home on a vacation. But his father would give him no help in securing such a position, and he could not go to the city without money. As for a hundred dollars, it might as well be a million, so far as he had any chance of securing it.
While he was thinking this matter over, a dangerous thought entered his mind. His father, he knew, had a small brass-nailed trunk, in which he kept his money and securities. He had seen him going to it more than once.
"I wonder how much he's got in it?" thought Joshua. "As it's all coming to me some day there's no harm in my knowing."
There seemed little chance of finding out, however. The trunk was always locked, and Mr. Drummond carried the key about with him in his pocket. If he had been a careless man, there might have been some chance of his some day leaving the trunk unlocked, or mislaying the key; but in money matters Mr. Drummond was never careless. Joshua would have been obliged to wait years, if he had depended upon this contingency.
One day, however, Joshua found in the road a bunch of keys of various sizes attached to a ring. He cared very little to whom they belonged, but it flashed upon him at once that one of these keys might fit his father's strong-box. He hurried home at once with his treasure, and ran upstairs breathless with excitement.
He knew where the trunk was kept. Mr. Drummond, relying on the security of the lock, kept it in the closet of his bed-chamber.
"Where are you going, Joshua?" asked his mother.
"Upstairs, to change my clothes," was the answer.
"I've got a piece of pie for you."
"I'll come down in five minutes."
Joshua made his way at once to the closet, and, entering, began to try his keys, one after the other. The very last one was successful in opening the trunk.
Joshua trembled with excitement as he saw the contents of the trunk laid open to his gaze. He turned over the papers nervously, hoping to come upon some rolls of bills. In one corner he found fifty dollars in gold pieces. Besides these, there were some mortgages, in which he felt little interest. But among the contents of the trunk were some folded papers which he recognized at once as United States Bonds. Opening one of them, he found it to be a Five-Twenty Bond for five hundred dollars.
Five hundred dollars! What could he not do with five hundred dollars! He could go to the city, and board, enjoying himself meanwhile, till he could find a place. His galling dependence would be over, and he would be his own master. True it would be a theft, but Joshua had an excuse ready.
"It will all be mine some day," he said to himself. "It's only taking a part of my own in advance."
He seized the gold and the bond, and, hastily concealing both in his breast-pocket, went downstairs, first locking the trunk, and putting it away where he found it.
"What's the matter, Joshua?" asked his mother, struck by his nervous and excited manner.
"Nothing," he answered, shortly.
"Are you well?"
"I've got a little headache,—that is all."
"Perhaps you'd better not eat anything then."
"It won't do me any harm. I'll take a cup of tea, if you've got any."
"I can make some in five minutes."
Joshua ate his lunch, and, going upstairs again, came down speedily, arrayed in his best clothes. He got out of the house without his mother seeing him, and made his way to a railway station four miles distant, where he purchased a ticket for New York.
He took a seat by a window, and, as the car began to move, he said to himself, in exultation,
"Now I am going to see life."
