Alger Horatio Jr.
Bob Burton

CHAPTER XXXI
HOW CLIP WAS CAPTURED

Everything had gone well with Bob so far, and he was looking forward hopefully to the end of his journey, and the final success of his expedition. Now all was changed. He was a prisoner, and though Clip was on board the boat, he was utterly incompetent to take the place of his master. Bob hardly dared trust himself to think of the future. He knew not what would become of his valuable cargo, but that it was lost to him seemed probable. This meant utter ruin, for he and his mother would have nothing to live upon till the next harvest, and meanwhile Aaron Wolverton would foreclose the mortgage. Certainly, Bob had reason to shed tears, and could not be charged with being unmanly if for a time he gave up to a feeling of despondency and almost despair.

Leaving him for an hour, we will accompany the two conspirators on their return to the boat.

Clip was on deck, anxiously watching for the return of Bob. He was beginning to feel a little troubled.

"Can't think what's 'come of Massa Bob," he said to himself. "He said he'd be back in fifteen minutes. If anything's happened to him, what'll 'come of Clip?"

Instead of fifteen minutes, an hour passed, and still Bob had not returned. Clip was seriously thinking of going on shore and looking for him, when two men came to the river bank.

"Hallo!" they said. "Are you Clip?"

"Yes," answered Clip, in some surprise, not understanding how these two strangers could know his name.

"You are sailing with Robert Burton?"

"Yes, massa."

"Where is he?"

"Gone on shore for a walk. Did you see him anywhere?"

"Yes; we come from him."

"Why don't he come himself?"

"The poor fellow has met with an accident. He has broken his leg."

"Massa Bob broken him leg!" ejaculated Clip, turning as pale as his complexion would admit. "How came he to do dat?"

"I can't explain," said Brown. "My friend and I came up just after it happened, and we took him to a house near by, where he was put to bed. He asked us to come for you and bring you to him."

"Yes, massa; I'll go right off," said Clip, with alacrity. Then he hesitated at the thought of leaving the boat. "What'll I do about de boat?" he asked, in perplexity.

"Pooh! no one will run off with it. Probably your friend will want to be brought on board; we will help to bring him. Meanwhile I will stay here and look after things, and my friend will take you to Massa Bob, as you call him."

Clip saw no objection to this plan. He was too simple-minded to suspect a trick, and being very much attached to his young master he was anxious to be taken to him.

He put on his hat and expressed himself ready to go.

"Very well; Minton, show him the house, and see if the boy is fit to be moved."

Clip did not see the wink that accompanied the last words.

The two started on their journey. Clip, though the smaller, walked so fast that Minton was obliged to quicken his pace. He plied Minton with questions till the latter was tired.

"I can't tell you much about it," said the man, at length. "My friend and I saw young Burton lying by the side of the road. He was groaning with pain. We took him up and carried him to a house close by."

"He won't die?" faltered Clip, in a tone of anxious inquiry.

"Oh, no! He's as safe to live as you or I. A broken leg doesn't amount to much."

"I don' see why he lef' the boat," said Clip, mournfully.

"Well, accidents will happen," said Minton, philosophically.

"Do you think we can get him on de boat, massa?"

"Oh, yes. I have no doubt of it. You needn't feel worried. It'll all come right."

Clip, however, felt that there was sufficient reason for feeling troubled.

He was rather surprised at the length of the walk.

"What made Massa Bob go so far?" he asked.

"He said he was just exploring a little – wanted to see the country, you know."

"He couldn't see much in de dark."

"Well, he will explain the matter to you; I can't."

At length they reached the lonely house.

"This is where your friend was carried," said Minton.

Clip thought it was a gloomy place, but his mind was now so occupied with thoughts of Bob, whom he was to see immediately, that he said nothing.

Minton knocked at the door.

It was opened by Joe Springer, whose appearance rather frightened Clip.

"Oh, so you're back?" he said to Minton. "Who is this?"

"It's a friend of the boy with the broken leg," answered Minton, with a significant look.

"Ho! ho!" laughed Joe, to Clip's surprise. He could not understand what there was to laugh at.

"I hope the poor boy's more comfortable," said Minton.

"I reckon so," answered Joe, with another grin.

"Has he been quiet?"

"Yes, he hasn't made any noise; but he's been walking round the room."

"Walkin' round wid a broken leg!" repeated Clip, amazed.

"What a fool you are, Joe!" exclaimed Minton, in a vexed tone. "How could he walk round with a broken leg?"

"I only meant it for a joke," said Joe, in a half-sullen tone. "How did I know his leg was broken?"

"My friend, here, was not in when we brought the boy," said Minton, in an aside to Clip. "Now, Joe, we'll go upstairs. Clip, here, has come to keep his friend company."

"I hope he'll like it," returned Joe, with another incomprehensible grin.

"Well, get a light, and show us upstairs."

Clip thought the house far from pleasant.

He had just started to go upstairs, when a little girl ran crying through the door of the adjoining room.

"I want to go home," she cried. "I want to go to my papa."

She was followed by a tall, gaunt woman, who seized the child in her bony grasp.

"You're a very naughty girl," she said. "Your papa sent you to stay with me."

"No, he didn't. My papa doesn't know you."

"If you talk like that I'll give you a whipping. I am your aunt – your father's sister."

"No, you're not. I wouldn't have such an ugly aunt."

"Of all the perverse imps, this 'ere one is the most cantankerous I ever see," said the woman.

"I should think you'd ought to be able to manage a little girl," said Joe, roughly.

"So I be. There's only one way of managin' one like her. I've got a strap in the other room, and she'll feel of it if she keeps on."

Clip followed Minton up the steep, narrow staircase, and the two paused before the door of the chamber occupied by Bob Burton.

"He is in here," said Minton, briefly.

He opened the door, and by the faint light of the lantern, Clip recognized the figure of a boy stretched out on a pallet in the corner.

Bob looked up, and when he saw Clip, he sprang to his feet.

"You here, Clip?" he asked.

"Yes, Massa Bob. Which of you legs is broke?"

"My legs broke! Neither."

"The man told me you broke you leg," said Clip, bewildered.

He turned to appeal to Minton for a confirmation of his words, but the door was shut, and his conductor was already on the way downstairs.

CHAPTER XXXII
THE BOYS IMPRISONED

"Now sit down and tell me all about it, Clip," said Bob. "So you were told my leg was broke. Who told you?"

"De two men."

"I think I know the two men. One of them brought you here. Where is the other?"

"He stayed on board the boat till we come back."

"Was there anything said about our going back?" asked Bob, in surprise.

"Yes, Massa Bob. Dey said you leg was broke, and you wanted me to come for you. De man said we would take you back with us."

"Clip," said Bob, sadly, "these men deceived you. We are in a trap."

"What's dat?"

"They have made us prisoners, and I don't dare to think what they will do next."

"Dey won't 'sassinate us?" asked Clip, who had picked up the word somewhere.

"No; but I'll tell you what I think they will do. They will take the boat down the river, and sell the grain in St. Louis, and run off with the money."

This was the conclusion to which Bob was led by Clip's story.

"We won't let 'em, Massa Bob," said Clip, in excitement.

"How shall we help it, Clip?"

"We must get out, and run away."

"I wish I knew how," said Bob.

"If we can get out, we'll take a boat to the city, and git there ahead of 'em."

Somehow Clip's words seemed to reassure Bob. Misery loves company, and the presence of his trusty friend and servant perceptibly lightened Bob's spirits.

"You are right, Clip," he said. "To-morrow we will see what we can do. We can't do anything to-night."

"Who is de little girl, Massa Bob?" asked Clip, suddenly.

"What little girl?"

"Haven't you seen her? De little girl downstairs."

"I haven't seen her. Tell me about her."

Clip described her as well as he could, and succeeded in conveying to Bob a general idea of her appearance, and that of the woman who had charge of her.

Bob listened, thoughtfully.

"You don't think the little girl was any relation to the woman, Clip?" he said.

"No, Massa Bob; no more'n you is relation to me. De girl was a little lady, and de woman was awful ugly."

"Did the little girl say anything in your hearing?"

"She asked to be taken back to her fader."

Suddenly there came into Bob's mind the story about a little girl abducted from St. Louis.

"Clip," he said, "I think the little girl has been stolen from her home. I think it is the same one we heard about the other day."

"I pity de poor girl. De ol' woman shook her, and treated her bad."

"If we could only run away from this place and take the little girl with us, it would be a capital idea. I would like to get her away from these wretches."

"I'm wid you, Massa Bob," said Clip, enthusiastically.

"Hush!" said Bob, suddenly raising his finger.

A little girl's voice was heard, and it was easy to judge that she was ascending the stairs.

Bob put his ear to the keyhole.

"Take me home to my papa!" said the poor child. "I don't want to stay here."

"I'll whip you," said a harsh voice, "if you are not good. It's time little girls were a-bed. I'm going to put you to bed, and you can sleep till morning."

"I don't want to go to bed."

There was a little scream, for the woman had slapped her.

"I'd like to get at that woman, Clip," said Bob, indignantly.

They heard the door open – the door of the room adjoining.

The partition was very thin, and it was easy to hear what was going on. Not only this, but Clip discovered an auger hole about eighteen inches above the floor, of sufficient size to enable him to look through it.

"Who was that black boy?" he heard the little girl say. "He's a funny-looking boy."

"He's come to stay here with the other boy," answered the woman, glad to find something of interest to take the place of the complaints.

"Where are they?" asked the girl.

"They are sleeping in the next room, so you need not be afraid if I go down and leave you."

"May I play with them to-morrow?"

"Yes, if you will be a good girl," said the woman, willing to promise anything.

Then there was a little pause, spent in undressing the child.

"Now, get into bed, and go to sleep as soon as you can."

"Will you take me to my papa to-morrow?"

"No," answered the woman, shortly. "Your papa wants you to stay with me."

"Won't I never see my papa again?" asked the child, almost ready to cry.

"Yes; perhaps he'll come to see you next week," answered the woman, fearing that the child might sob and compel her to remain upstairs.

"Clip," said Bob, who had taken Clip's place at the hole in the partition, "there's no doubt of it. The girl has been stolen. I wish I could go into the room, and asked her about her father and her home."

He went to the door and tried it, but it was firmly locked, and it was quite useless to try to get out.

Meanwhile, Joe and his wife were conversing downstairs.

"Joe," said the woman, "I hope I'll get rid of that brat soon. She's a heap of trouble."

"We shall be well paid," said Joe.

"Who's to pay us?" asked the woman.

"Brown. He's the man that's got charge of the job. She's got a rich father, who'll shell out liberal to get her back."

"Did he pay you anything in advance?"

"I squeezed five dollars out of him."

"Where is it, Joe?"

"Don't you wish you knew, old woman?" said Joe, with a grin. "I can take care of it."

"Half of it belongs to me."

"How do you make that out?"

"Haven't I the care of the child? It don't trouble you."

"It's all right, old lady. You won't be forgotten."

"How much more is Brown to pay you?" asked the woman, appearing dissatisfied.

"Forty-five dollars."

The woman's eyes sparkled. To her this seemed a vast sum of money.

"And how much am I to have?"

"What do you want money for?" demanded Joe, impatiently.

"I do want it, and that's enough."

"Well, I can't say yet, old lady, but maybe you'll get ten dollars."

"Altogether?"

"Of course. Ain't that enough?"

"No, it isn't. We ought to divide even."

"Pooh, you're a woman. You don't need money."

An unpleasant look came over the woman's face, but she said nothing.

"Come, old woman, I've got something that'll put you into good humor. See here!"

Joe produced from an out-of-the-way corner a suspicious-looking jug.

"Do you know what's in this?"

"What is it?" asked the woman, looking interested.

"Whisky. Get some boiling water, and I'll make you some punch. We'll make a night of it."

His wife brightened up. Evidently she did not belong to the Temperance Society, any more than her husband. She moved about the room with alacrity, and, assisted by her husband, brewed a punch which was of considerable strength. Then they put it on the table, and set about enjoying themselves.

"Here's your health, ol' woman!" said Joe, and he tried to sing a stave of an old drinking-song.

Together they caroused till a late hour, and then fell into a drunken sleep, which lasted till a late hour in the morning.

About seven o'clock the little girl woke up, and, as is usual with children, wished to be dressed at once.

"Aunt," Bob heard her say, "I want to be dressed."

But no one came at her call.

After a little waiting, she got out of bed and went downstairs, but returned in a minute or two, crying.

Bob called through the partition.

"What's the matter, little girl?"

"There's nobody to dress me. Are you the boy that came yesterday?"

"Yes. Where is the woman that put you to bed?"

"She's downstairs – she and the man. They're lying on the floor. I can't wake them up."

An idea came to Bob.

"Come to our door, little girl, and see if you can draw back the bolt. We are fastened in."

"Will you take me to my papa?"

"Yes; I will try to."

The child came to the door, and, following Bob's directions, with some difficulty slipped back the bolt.

"Clip," said Bob, in a tone of triumph, "We're free. Now do as I tell you, and we'll get away, and reach St. Louis ahead of the boat."

CHAPTER XXXIII
A LUCKY ESCAPE

"Now," said Bob to the little girl, as they descended the steep and narrow staircase, "will you do as I tell you?"

"Yes," answered the child, placing her hand confidingly in his.

"Then make as little noise as possible. We don't want them to wake up. If they do they will prevent your going away."

"Will you take me back to my papa, certain sure?"

"Yes."

"Oh, I am so glad."

"Clip," said Bob, warningly, "mind you remain perfectly quiet. We must go through the room where the man and woman are sleeping. Any little noise might wake them up."

"Don't be afeared for me, Massa Bob," said Clip.

The staircase led into the main room below, so that, as Bob said, it was necessary to pass through it.

Entering the room on tip-toe, they witnessed a reassuring, but disgusting spectacle. Joe Springer was stretched out on the floor on his back, breathing heavily; while his wife, seated in a chair, rested her head on the kitchen table. She, too, seemed to be in a drunken stupor.

The little girl regarded the woman nervously, remembering the harsh treatment she had received from her.

There was one more ordeal, and one more danger to run. The outer door was locked, but the key was in the lock. There was a creaking sound as Bob turned it. But he opened the door successfully, and once more they breathed freely in the clear air of morning. As the door opened they heard a muttered sound from Joe Springer. It sounded like "more whisky!" He was probably dreaming of his potations of the previous night.

Bob hurried along his two companions till they had reached a point some half a mile distant from the place of their imprisonment. Then he thought it best to question the little girl.

"What is your name?" he asked, gently.

"Don't you know my name?" asked the child, in surprise. "My name is Maud."

"What is your other name?"

"Pearson – my name is Maud Lilian Pearson."

"Just as I thought, Clip," said Bob, triumphantly. "This is the little girl that was stolen from her parents in St. Louis."

"Yes; my papa lives in St. Louis. Will you take me to him?"

"Yes, Maud. Only be a good little girl, and do as I tell you."

"And you won't let that ugly woman take me away?"

"No; we will hide you away from her. Did she treat you badly?"

"Yes; she shook me, and said she would whip me. She said she was my aunt; but it isn't true."

"Who brought you to her?"

Maud thereupon described the man whom we know as Brown, the abler one of the confederates who had stolen the ferry-boat.

"I wonder whether our boat is gone?" said Bob.

"Mebbe we can see from the hill," suggested Clip.

There was a small elevation near by. Bob ascended it, and looked towards the point where his boat had been tied up. There was no sign of it. It had disappeared. Though still early, Brown and Minton, fearing interference, had cut loose about four o'clock, and were, by this time, several miles on their way to the great city.

"It's gone, Clip," said Bob, sadly.

"Never mind, Massa Bob, we'll catch 'em," answered Clip, energetically.

"Yes, if there is any boat starts down the river to-day."

This, however, was something which he was not sure of. Moreover, he felt that the sooner he got away from Joe Springer and his estimable wife, the better. But where could he take refuge? Not at the hotel, for Springer would find him out and reclaim the little girl. While he was considering, in his perplexity, what course to pursue, he fell in with two boys, who appeared to be about fifteen years of age. They regarded Bob and his party with curiosity.

Bob eyed the boys closely, and decided that they could be depended upon. They seemed to be just the friends he was in search of. He introduced himself, and learned that their names were John Sheehan and Edward Bovee.

"Can you tell me, boys, when the next steamer will start for St. Louis?"

"Yes," answered John; "there is one at seven o'clock to-morrow morning."

"That is the earliest?"

"Yes," said John.

"Do you know of any private house where we can stay till that time? I am willing to pay a fair price."

"You can come to our house," said Edward Bovee. "I am sure my mother will take you in. But you won't get as good meals as at the hotel."

"I don't mind that. I shall be glad to stay at your house. Could we go there to breakfast?"

"Yes; follow me, and I will lead the way."

Edward Bovee led the way to a neat cottage, where his mother, a pleasant-looking lady, welcomed them, and readily undertook to keep them till the boat started for St. Louis. Bob, feeling the necessity of concealment, took Mrs. Bovee into his confidence, and readily secured the co-operation of the good lady, who took a motherly interest in little Maud.

Now that the children have found a safe retreat, we will return to Joe Springer and his interesting wife.

About half an hour after their young prisoners had escaped, Mrs. Springer raised her head from the table, and looked about her in a bewildered way. The bright sunshine entering at the window revealed to her that she had spent the night in a drunken stupor, even if Joe's prostrate form had not been a visible reminder. She went to her husband, and shook him roughly.

"Get up, Joe!" she said. "It's morning."

He opened his eyes, and looked around him with stupefaction.

"What's up, old woman?" he asked.

"I am, and you ought to be," she answered, sharply.

"Where's the whisky?"

"You've had enough. Now get up and hustle round, if you want some breakfast. I'll go up and dress the little girl."

Mrs. Springer went upstairs, but came down again two steps at a time, in a state of high excitement.

"Joe," said she, quickly, "the little gal's gone!"

"What?"

"The little gal's gone! Run out and see if you can't catch her. If we lose her, we lose fifty dollars!"

"Are the boys all right?"

"Yes; the door is bolted. They couldn't get out."

This was true. Bob had taken the precaution to lock the door, after leaving the room. For this reason, it was half an hour later before Joe discovered that all his prisoners had escaped. Then, as might have been expected, there was a wild scene of recrimination, ending in a fight, in which Mrs. Springer did her part, for she was by no means a weak or delicate lady, but a woman without fear, who believed in the right of self-defense. The worthy pair instituted a search throughout the village, but failed to discover any trace of the lost children. The next morning, however, Joe Springer got up unusually early, for him, and strolled to the steamboat-landing. The boat was already out in the stream, when on the deck he discovered Maud and the two boys.

"Stop the boat!" screamed Joe, in excitement.

"What's the matter?" asked the man beside him.

"Those three children. They have run away!"

"From you?"

"Yes; from my house."

"Why, man, you must be drunk. You have no children."

"I had charge of 'em, particularly the little gal! Stop the boat, I say!"

"Has that man any claim on you?" asked the captain, who chanced to be standing near Bob.

"Not the slightest," answered Bob.

"Or the little girl?"

"No; her father lives in St. Louis, and I am taking her to him."

"Stop the boat!" screamed Joe, frantically.

"He's drunk!" said Joe's neighbor. "He doesn't know what he's talking about."

This settled the matter so far as the captain was concerned. Bob paid the full passage-money for the party, and they were enrolled as regular passengers.

Towards the middle of the afternoon a surprise awaited them. They saw, not far ahead, their own boat, which was drifting down the river, with Brown at the helm.

"Do you see that, Clip?" asked Bob.

"Yes, Massa Bob."

"Quick, hide! Don't let them see us. I have no objection to their working their passage down to the city. When they get there, we will be on hand to take possession."

"Dat's a good joke! Won't they be s'prised, dough?" said Clip, showing his white teeth.

So the steamboat swept by, carrying the three children past the two conspirators, who fancied them safely housed in Joe Springer's house up the river.