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diff --git a/old/54367-0.txt b/old/54367-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 4a0183b..0000000 --- a/old/54367-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,16309 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg eBook, A Blundering Boy, by Bruce Weston Munro - - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most -other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of -the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have -to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. - - - - -Title: A Blundering Boy - A Humorous Story - - -Author: Bruce Weston Munro - - - -Release Date: March 15, 2017 [eBook #54367] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - - -***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A BLUNDERING BOY*** - - -E-text prepared by Richard Hulse and the Online Distributed Proofreading -Team (http://www.pgdp.net) from page images generously made available by -Internet Archive (https://archive.org) - - - -Note: Images of the original pages are available through - Internet Archive. See - https://archive.org/details/blunderingboyhum00munr - - - - - -A BLUNDERING BOY. - -A Humorous Story. - -by - -BRUCE W. MUNRO. - - - - - - -Published by -Bruce W. Munro, -Toronto. - -Entered according to Act of Parliament of Canada, in the year one -thousand eight hundred and eighty-seven, by Bruce W. Munro, -in the office of the Minister of Agriculture. - - - - - TO THAT SUPREME AUTOCRAT, - THE SMALL BOY OF NORTH AMERICA, - THIS BOOK IS, WITHOUT PERMISSION, MOST - RESPECTFULLY DEDICATED. - - - - -CONTENTS. - - - Preface XI. - - CHAPTER. PAGE. - - I. The Story Opened 17 - - II. Will’s Lucky Blunder 23 - - III. Will’s Native Village 33 - - IV. The Heroes of this History 39 - - V. An Unpleasant Ride for Will 44 - - VI. Steve’s Retaliation 54 - - VII. The Young Moralist.--A Clever Scheme 66 - - VIII. George Comes Out Ahead 75 - - IX. “Three Wise Men Went to Sea in a Bowl.” 88 - - X. The “Bowl” Comes to Grief 96 - - XI. A Talented Lecturer 106 - - XII. An Extraordinary Mad Dog 112 - - XIII. The Six go to a Picnic 126 - - XIV. Disaster Rather Than Fun 137 - - XV. A Lesson in Ballooning 149 - - XVI. Unheard-of Adventures with Balloons 156 - - XVII. They Prepare to “Giantize” 163 - - XVIII. The Cousins See More Than They Bargained for 169 - - XIX. Within and Without the Demon’s Cave 178 - - XX. A Glorious Triumph 186 - - XXI. Uncle Dick Himself Again 197 - - XXII. Uncle Dick Evolves His Story 204 - - XXIII. The Sage’s Experiment 212 - - XXIV. The Sage Unearths a Treasure 220 - - XXV. The Bitten Boy Takes Revenge 229 - - XXVI. Bob’s Downfall 240 - - XXVII. They Propose to Turn the Tables 245 - - XXVIII. The Tables Turned with a Vengeance 251 - - XXIX. A Horrible Plot.--The Haunted House 260 - - XXX. The Blunderer at Work Again 271 - - XXXI. Will Mends His Ways 276 - - XXXII. The Arch-Plotter Arrives 282 - - XXXIII. “A Lesson in French” 287 - - XXXIV. Henry Takes His Bearings.--A Stampede 298 - - XXXV. Marmaduke Grasps the Situation 307 - - XXXVI. To the Rescue! 319 - - XXXVII. Marmaduke Struggles with Romance 325 - - XXXVIII. The Startlers Themselves are Startled 335 - - XXXIX. Repentant Plotters.--The Heroes Re-united 342 - - XL. The Heroes Figure as Hunters 348 - - XLI. How Will Lost His Deer 355 - - XLII. What Curiosity Cost the Hunters 362 - - XLIII. Things Begin to Get Interesting 370 - - XLIV. Is the Mystery Solved? 377 - - XLV. The Last Blunder.--A Last Conversation 382 - - XLVI. The Story Closed 390 - - - - -PREFACE. - - -Silly as this story may seem, there is a fixed purpose in writing it; -and, like water in a goose-pond, it is deeper than it at first appears. - -The intention chiefly is to be absurd; to cast ridicule on certain -pedants and romancers; and to jeer at the ridiculous solemnity, mystery, -and villainy, that hedge in works of fiction. Disgusted with tales which -cause exceedingly good heroes and heroines to live a life of torture, -only to find a haven of peace and security in the last line of the last -chapter, the writer determined to go over the old ground in a different -way. Now that the story is written, however, he has a horrible suspicion -that in some measure he has totally failed in his design, and that more -often than he cares to own, he has overshot the mark. - -Having endeavored to make the intention tolerably clear, the reader may -now be able to get more enjoyment from this tale. - -The tale aims to attack so-called “vagaries,” as well as great and -contemptible follies. It attacks the frailties of the school-boy with -as much gusto as it attacks the foibles of the romancer. In fact, from -first to last, in almost every chapter, the writer rushes gallantly -to attack something. Not satisfied with attempting to ridicule other -people’s tales, he often indirectly, but not the less insultingly, -attacks this one, as the careful reader will doubtless observe. This was -begun in jest, perhaps; but it soon became a fixed purpose, carried out -in earnest. Even a boy can generally see the drift of our narrative; but -it is often hard for the writer himself to see its true meaning--harder -still to appreciate it. Nevertheless, there is a good deal to be seen in -the story; and doubtless there are some who will see more in it than was -designed to be put there. - -Again, the story is not written to instruct studious and solemn boys, who -mope about the house with grave biographies and heavy ancient histories -in their hands, while without, the sun is shining bright, birds are -warbling their extempore melodies in the fruit-trees, squirrels are -frisking across the garden-walks, and all Nature is smiling. Such people -are not _boys_; they are but figure-heads in creation, who, though they -may, perhaps, find a place in so-called “literature,” will never find one -in the history of nations. This story does not inform those who crave for -knowledge, and yet more knowledge, that the elephant is a pachydermatous -native of Asia and Africa, nor that the monkey is a quadrumanous animal, -with prehensile tail, whose habitat is in tropical regions. Still, the -attentive reader will, in all probability, gather from it that an ass -brays, that a punt leaks, that a school-boy’s pets are mortal, and that -gunpowder is liable to explode when fire is applied to it. It is not -written as a guide and instructor to youth. Its heroes are deplorably -depraved; they love to plot mischief. Yet a boy may possibly learn -something from our work. He may learn that the boy who plays practical -jokes on his school-fellows generally “gets the worst of it,” that he -often suffers more than the intended victim. He may learn, also, that a -boy’s wickedness brings its own punishment. (The writer takes great pains -to correct the culprits--in fact, he never fails to do so after each -offence.) Of course every boy has learned all this before; probably, in -every book he ever read; but as it is a fundamental principle in romance -to enforce this doctrine, it is here enforced. - -Many a writer wishes to make assertions for which he does not always -choose to be responsible. In such cases, he puts the assertion into the -mouth of one of his characters, an “honorable gentleman” fathering it -sometimes, a “consummate villain” at other times. In some instances we -have followed this example. - -The writer here modestly lays claim to a rare, an almost antiquated -virtue: though he excels in Wegotism, he never calls himself an author! -Yet if he were writing an elementary grammar, he might indulge in such -expressions as “The author here begs to differ from Mr. Murray;” or, -“The author’s list of adjectives may be increased by the teacher, _ad -libitum_.” But this story is intended for youths of a reasoning age. In -writing for juveniles of tender years, it is well to weigh carefully -one’s expressions, and to use only choice and elegant expletives. - -Understand, gentle reader, that man only is attacked in this story. -Though the fair sex are occasionally and incidentally introduced, the -writer has too much respect for them to go beyond the introduction, in -this book. Even when Henry personates “Sauterelle” the motive is good. -Understand all this, and read accordingly. - -The moral of this story is intended to be good; but in a story of its -light and fickle nature, the less said about a moral the better. - -The writer has great affection for boys; he respects them, and loves to -see them enjoy themselves, but he is not prepared to say that he fully -understands them. A BOY is a credit to a neighborhood--till he hangs -a battle-scarred cat to the chief citizen’s flag-staff, or destroys -a mill-dam by tunnelling a hole through it, when, of course, he is a -disgrace to the race. Though it is uncertain who is the hero of this -story, Steve and Henry are the favorites. Steve is more or less a _boy_; -but as the story advances the reader will perceive that he improves in -both wit and wisdom. George is one of the boys who “love books;” but he -tempered common sense with study, and never refused to join with his -companions in their frolics or “expeditions.” With little or no benefit -to himself, or, for that matter, to anybody else, George, like most -studious youths of his age, read books entirely beyond his comprehension. -In one hundred pages of scientific reading, he probably understood -and retained one fact; the other facts were either misunderstood or -forgotten, or might better have been. Years ago, when the writer used -to wear out his pockets with bulky jack-knives, and quarrel with other -youngsters about the sagacity of his own dog, he knew a boy who, like -Jim, was subject to “the chills.” But the writer was probably too young -at that time to have an insight into another’s character, and the only -affinity between that boy and Jim is that both were a prey to “the -chills.” It may be objected that it is strange that Charles should be -able to work on the other boys’ feelings so well. Very true; so it is. -Still, he could not have slain a robber-knight, nor outwitted an Indian -scout. Henry is not one of the original heroes, but as he is necessary to -the story he is introduced. - -The writer, disgusted with books in which the heroes are treated with -much respect, endeavours to heap every indignity upon these foolish boys. -In a word, he has no apparent respect for any one, big or little, old or -young, in this volume. To go still further, he has no respect for himself. - -In the case of the blue-eyed heroine and each boy’s mother, however, -there is an exception, and exceptions prove the rule. - -As for Mr. Lawrence’s “mystery,” it does not amount to much, though it -is intended, like everything else, to serve a purpose. Look at it as it -appears, and in ten minutes a bill-sticker could hatch a better plot. -Look at it as it appears, and it is idiotic, yet perfectly harmless; look -at it in its figurative meaning, and, though it is not so good as was -intended, it yet--but we are too discreet to say more on this head. - -The writer respectfully observes that his maniac is not drawn from -nature, but from romance. He never informed himself of the habits of -those unfortunate people--never had the pleasure of even a slight -acquaintance with them--but drew Uncle Dick’s history blindly from -romance. - -As for the villain’s confession, it is thrown in gratuitously, as ballast -to the story, and to pacify the readers of heavy romance. - - “Oh, what a tangled web we weave, - When first we practise to deceive,” - -as many a writer’s confused plot bears witness. Having many objects in -view in writing this story, the reader must make the best of it, if it -sometimes seems disjointed. Still, if the astute reader thinks he detects -a place where this history does not hang together, let him not be too -much elated, for the writer believes he could point out several such -places himself. - -Of course, no boy will read this preface; it would, therefore, be a -waste of time to address a discourse to boys in it. Reader, did you -ever observe the manner in which a boy ignores the preface in his -school-books? If not, you do not know how much scorn a boy’s face is -capable of displaying. - -Nevertheless, this preface may be of use to a boy. Suppose that an -indulgent uncle should be jockeyed into buying a copy of this book -for his little nephew. In such a case, would not this preface make an -admirable “flier” for the little nephew’s dart? Certainly it would; and -the next morning the little nephew’s mamma would find a picturesque dart, -with this elaborate preface fluttering at the end, adorning a panel of -the parlour door. - -“Perhaps,” sneers the reader of mature years, “you think to have a fling -at the almost antiquated custom of writing prefaces?” - -Perhaps so, kind reader, and why not? - -It seems natural for some writers to wish to display their wisdom: some -make a show of hammering out tropes that no one can appreciate; others, -in coining new compound words that won’t find a place in the dictionaries -of the future; still others, in inserting such foreign words and phrases -as may be found in the back of a school-boy’s pocket dictionary. (To do -them justice, however, the latter geniuses, careful not to offend our -noble English, considerately write such words and phrases in italics.) -This writer, on the contrary, displays his _foolishness_ by tackling -things that he afterwards learns are out of his reach. - -The writer seems most at home when attempting to poke fun at romance; -yet he is tormented night and day, so much so that he has no peace, with -romance. In fact, gentle reader, if any human being suffers more in that -way than he, pity him with all your heart, for he must be a wretch indeed. - -Cannot this be explained logically? Perhaps so; but it isn’t worth -anybody’s while to do it. - -Notwithstanding that our preface is so grandiloquent, the story opens, -the reader will observe, very modestly. But if he should persevere a -little way, he will find that the writer soon strikes out boldly. - -Of course this preface was written after the story; but, let the reader -be entreated, if he will excuse the Hibernicism, to read it first. If he -does not, we are only too confident he will never read it. This is not -prophecy, but intuition. - - BRUCE W. MUNRO. - - - - -A BLUNDERING BOY. - - - - -_Chapter I._ - -THE STORY OPENED. - - -William, baptized William, but always called Will, was a boy who -had a habit of committing blunders--a habit which, as will be seen, -occasionally led him into deep disgrace. When a mere boy, his blunders -were of little consequence; but when older they assumed a more serious -form. Most of them arose from want of care, as he did everything without -considering what the end might be. Doubtless, he ought to have been -reproved for this; but as he was only a boy, and as many of his blunders -partook of the ludicrous, his parents laughed at him, but seldom took -pains to correct him. - -Will’s father owned a highly cultivated farm, near one of the great -lakes, and was a man of means. He indulged freely in dignified language, -in illustrated magazines and weeklies, in frequent pleasure trips by land -and water, and in gilded agricultural machines, fragile and complicated, -but quite as useful as ornamental. - -Will’s mother was an amiable lady, who accompanied her husband on every -alternate pleasure trip, and who, by the help of an able housekeeper and -a fire-proof cook, spread a table that excited the admiration or envy of -all who knew her, the housekeeper, or the cook. - -Such were Will’s father and mother, who generally, as he was their only -child, suffered him to have his own way, took notice of all his sayings -and doings, and occasionally jotted them down in a disused diary. But he -was not the kind of boy to be spoiled by such usage; on the contrary he -was a very good boy. - -He was an athletic little fellow, able to undergo great fatigue, and -endowed with so much perseverance and hope that he would fish all day -for trout, and return at dusk with nothing but a few expiring mud-pouts -and two or three forlorn fish worms. He was known to all the villagers, -respected by all his school fellows, and was involved in all their -troubles. But his school fellows did not regard him as a hero; in their -expeditions he was seldom chosen leader; in their “trials by jury” he -was frequently a juryman--in time of need the entire jury--but only -occasionally the judge. - -Will attended school regularly and learned his lessons carefully, whether -he understood them or not. His appetite for learning was keen, but his -appetite for sport was insatiable; no boy, on being set loose from -school, was more demonstrative than he. - -When old enough to be out with his father, he followed him constantly. -About the whole farm there was not a hole into which he had not fallen, -not a stone of any size over which he had not stumbled, and no danger -of any kind, from animals or machines, from which he had not narrowly -escaped. He was often carried bruised, wet and tearful into the presence -of his terrified mother, who vowed that he should never again leave her -sight. But as soon as his wounds were dressed and his wet, muddy, and -sometimes blood-stained garments were changed, he would slip away, to -invite new dangers and contend with old ones. Even when sitting quiet -in the house, learning his lessons, his ink-bottle would unaccountably -pour its contents over his books, his papers, or on the carpet. Yet -Will’s father declared that the boy was neither awkward nor stupid, but -only “inconsiderate” and “headlong.” In proportion as he grew older, Mr. -Lawrence hoped that he would grow wiser, and less “headlong.” - -Having thus touched upon Will’s characteristics, it is now in order to -begin at the beginning, when he was a small boy. - -One day, when the boy had arrived at the age of seven years, a strolling -and struggling newspaper genius was invited to spend the afternoon and -evening at the farm-house. At the supper table this gentleman interested -himself particularly in the boy, and the mother, pleased with this -attention, began to enlarge upon her darling’s talents and cleverness, -till, warming with maternal pride, she became quite eloquent. - -“What do you suppose he did the other day?” she asked. - -Will’s face suddenly became red. His mother did not notice this, but the -newspaper genius did; and while he answered politely, he muttered to -himself, “Hanged somebody’s cat, I should infer from his looks.” - -“Why, he--” began the mother, when she was suddenly interrupted by Will’s -saying, “Please don’t tell, mother!” - -This remark, of course, drew the attention of all three to the boy, and -they saw that he appeared ill at ease, and that his face was painfully -flushed. - -Mrs. Lawrence looked surprised. “Why, Will,” she said, “I’m sure its -greatly to your credit.” Then turning to the guest: “Mr. Sargent, the -other day he gave his papa the boundaries of every country and continent -on the globe; and he did it all from memory, not looking once at a map!” -Mr. Sargent was a polite man; he now expressed the liveliest astonishment. - -“Oh!” burst from Will’s lips, followed by a sigh of relief, “Is _that_ -what you wanted to tell?” - -“What did you suppose your mamma intended to tell me?” basely inquired -the newspaper man, quickly recovering from his astonishment. - -Will hesitated, but finally answered, “I thought it was about the -fire-crackers.” - -The guest’s curiosity was awakened. “What about the fire-crackers?” he -inquired, so courteously that no one could take offence. - -“Oh, he had a bad time with them; that’s all;” said Mrs. Lawrence, coming -to the rescue. - -But Will, who was plainly dissatisfied with his mother’s version of the -affair, explained, with an effort that proved him to be a hero, “I had -some fire-crackers, and they set the chip yard on fire, and nearly burnt -up a cow in the cow-house!” - -Having thus eased his conscience, he relapsed into silence. But it was -evident that his nerves were quite unstrung; the visitor was therefore -not taken wholly unawares when Will, in passing him the “preserves,” -spilt them on his pants. - -With a sigh of resignation the unfortunate took the mishap as a joke, and -asked, as they rose from the table, if Will would bring out some of his -toys. - -“Get out the gun you made yourself,” Mr. Lawrence suggested. - -The boy left the room but soon came in with a rude weapon--which boys -would call a squirt-gun, but which Mr. and Mrs. Lawrence, from ignorance -or flattery, called a gun. But time is precious to some people; perhaps -they called it a gun to save breath. - -The errant newspaper man took up the squirt-gun, to examine it at his -convenience, but lo! another mishap! The infernal machine, or whatever -one may call it, had discharged a black and muddy fluid over his spotless -shirt front. - -Another involuntary “Oh!” broke from poor Will’s lips. “It must be the -poison we had for the red currant bugs!” he groaned. “I thought I had -squirted every drop out of the gun, but--” - -“This is an extraordinary little gun, I’ve no doubt,” said the unhappy -man, in a pet, “but I don’t wish to experiment with it at present. -I should prefer to see some harmless toy, such as a wooden top or a -horse-hair watch-chain. It is always dangerous for me to meddle with -guns, anyway.” - -For once, the newspaper man’s suavity had failed him. - -But Mrs. Lawrence, in her heart, thought that a judgment had overtaken -him for ferreting out Will’s secret. - -The owner of the gun took it and gladly left the room. He did not return -with his wooden tops, but climbed up on the roof of the stable, where he -whiled away the rest of the evening with his new jack-knife and a piece -of cedar. He did not cut his fingers very badly, however. - -The distressed parents were placed in a very embarrassing situation, -but the sufferer’s equanimity soon returned, and the conversation again -flowed on smoothly. - -When the visitor took leave, it is to be hoped that he took with him a -due appreciation of Will’s talents and cleverness. - -Next morning Mr. Lawrence called his son and addressed him thus: “My -son, you are a very heedless boy. Reflect on the sad results of your -heedlessness, and endeavor to use the faculty of reason before you act -in any matter. Think of the annoyance you gave us last night! You ought -never to interrupt your mother, for you may be sure that she would never -tell a stranger anything to your discredit. Will you bear this in mind?” - -“Yes, sir,” muttered the boy, trying to understand the meaning of the big -words. “But,” anxiously, “will he be scolded and whipped, as Jim was when -he got his clothes spoiled?” - -“Are you speaking of the gentleman who passed the evening with us?” - -“Yes, sir.” - -“Then don’t grieve about that, for his parents will not harm him,” Mr. -Lawrence replied with a smile. - -A short time after this occurrence, Will informed his father that a -muskrat had built itself a home by a stream which ran through their farm. - -“Should you like to catch it in a trap?” Mr. Lawrence asked. - -The boy, of course, said yes. Immediately the fond father bought a strong -little trap and presented it to the would-be trapper. The trap cost -ninety cents; a wandering tin-peddler might perhaps be generous enough -to give Will fifteen cents for the pelt of the muskrat. In that event -everybody would be satisfied. But the home of the muskrat would be made -desolate. - -Mrs. Lawrence beheld this trap with horror, and not without reason, for, -within the next two hours, Will contrived to imprison in it several of -his fingers. - -After repeated warnings from his parents, the young hero set out for the -stream, trap in hand. Having successfully achieved the feat of setting -it, he returned and gave his father the particulars. - -“I fear that some more historical animal than a muskrat will come to an -untimely end in that trap,” Mr. Lawrence said dolorously. - -His words were prophetic. - -In the morning, full of hope, Will hurried to the home of the muskrat. -Beyond a doubt, the trap held an animal. But it was neither a musk nor -any other kind of rat; it was a beautiful little greyhound, fast in the -jaws of the trap, and stone dead. - -Will’s tears flowed freely at this pitiable sight, and fear was added to -his grief, when, in the greyhound, he recognized the constant companion -of Senator Murdock. - -“Poor little Pet! How often you have played with me!” the trapper said, -in the interval of his sobs. “Oh, what shall I do, and what will Mr. -Murdock say to me!” - -Just as the boy spoke, the Senator was approaching in his search of the -dog. - -“Ah, my little man,” he said, as he drew near the sorrowing trapper, “can -you tell me where to look for Pet? I’ve lost him this morning, and I -thought you could help me to find him, if any one could. We live so near -that you and Pet are always together. Why, what is the matter?” he asked, -seeing that the boy was crying bitterly. - -“Oh, sir!” was all Will could say. - -But the Senator was now beside him, and, taking in the matter at a -glance, he exclaimed angrily, “What is this I see? Have you, whom I -always considered a moral little boy, have _you_ entrapped my dog! I am -amazed! Poor Pet! Poor little dog!” - -“I didn’t mean to catch _him_,” Will pleaded, “and I am very sorry.” - -“Well, I shall not blame you,” the Senator said slowly. “Your father -ought not to let you set traps so recklessly, and I lay the blame upon -him.” - -“Don’t blame my father, for it is my own fault,” Will replied, ready, at -all times, to defend his father. “I will never do it again, Mr. Murdock; -indeed I won’t.” - -“Hardly, seeing that the poor beast is dead. But help me to get it out of -trap, and I shall take it home and bury it.” - -Then the two, man and boy, legislator and trapper, fell to work, and soon -liberated the dog from his prison. - -If the Senator could have known what danger his white and dainty fingers -were incurring, that is, how narrowly they escaped being pinched, he -would have kept them away from that trap. In fact, considering the state -of excitement into which any mishap threw Will, it is strange that they -were not cruelly mangled. But they escaped without a scratch. - -Mr. Lawrence was deeply grieved when he heard the ignominious fate of the -Senator’s dog. Probably he felt that he himself was blamable. - -But the affair was soon all but forgotten by Will, because, at his age, -such misdemeanors are generally forgotten as soon as the offender repents -of them and is pardoned by the sufferers. - -This chapter, like all the others, is intended to serve a purpose; yet, -lest the reader should fancy that we are writing for the entertainment of -juveniles, we shall relate but two more incidents of Will’s childhood. - - - - -_Chapter II._ - -WILL’S LUCKY BLUNDER. - - -Some two years after this incident, when Will’s parents announced one -fair morning that he was to accompany them on a trip to the city, many -miles distant, far from being in the mood to remember his father’s -injunctions, he was in the humor to commit the most atrocious blunders. - -He was full of eagerness to be off, and his beaming face bespoke his -joy. At his tender age, all the help he could give was of little moment; -but yet, in his eagerness to get ready for the journey, he threw the -household into such confusion that he and his harassed parents barely -reached the platform in time for the train. - -The day was fair, and the prospect from the car window delightful. The -scent of new mown hay (it was the month of June) rendered the trip as -pleasant as an eastern ruler’s dream. (The deeds of eastern rulers, -however, should not always be provocative of pleasant dreams.) - -It was morally impossible for Will to sit still in his seat. For once -the good little boy was regardless of his parents’ wishes; and in spite -of mamma’s entreaties and papa’s commands, he persisted in thrusting his -head out of the window. - -How fortunate it is that wrong doing inevitably leads to punishment! On -this occasion, however, the boy’s punishment was so long delayed that the -sanguinary sword of justice seemed to be rusted fast in its sheath. But -that sword was drawn at last. - -After riding for ten minutes with his head far out of the car, with an -involuntary “oh” he abruptly drew it in, but--hatless. - -The boy’s gestures of excitement and his parents’ evident vexation -attracted every one’s attention. Truly, the parents suffered equally with -the child. It is always thus. - -“I’d put my present for Henry in it, and now it’s gone!” groaned Will, -unmindful of the fact that every one in the car could hear him. - -“It serves you right, little boy,” observed a pious but melancholy -looking old lady, who occupied an adjacent seat. “Now you’ll have to -ride bareheaded,” she muttered. “That’s what comes from disobeying your -parents!” - -“For shame!” whispered a humane, but characteristically lank, -Down-easterner to this meddlesome dame. “Just you let the poor little -fellow alone.” - -Then, noticing Will’s sad condition, he began to search his pockets. Will -saw this and guessed what was coming, for he had often remarked that that -movement on the part of those interested in him was usually followed by -the bestowal of sweetmeats or other good gifts. - -It may here be boldly stated that our hero was not above eating candy, -which he divined was what was coming. - -Will was not mistaken in this instance, for his humane friend soon -approached him and put something round and hard into his hand, saying, -“Don’t fret, little man; here’s a bull’s-eye for you.” - -Quietly as this kind action was done, it did not escape the old lady’s -sharp eyes, and she thus gave vent to her indignation: “O dear, what are -we coming to! Here’s a man rewarding, actually _rewarding_, a boy for -being wicked!” - -However, neither Will nor his parents overheard her virtuous comments. -Will was wholly engrossed with his bull’s-eye, which was about the size -of a ten-year-old boy’s marble. Though originally white and striped with -red bands, it was now more or less discoloured and very sticky. - -Will slipped the bull’s-eye into his mouth, but immediately spat it out. - -“All covered with dirt and sweat, and as hard as an iron button,” he -muttered. “It was kind of the man to give it to me, but I can’t eat it.” - -But what should he do with it? Clearly, the floor would be the best place -for it; and so, while his father’s attention was engaged with a cartoon, -and his mother’s with a wayside chapel, he stooped and laid it softly on -the floor, unseen and unheard. - -Then he chuckled, admiring his great sagacity, not knowing that an -ordinary bull’s-eye may be dropped in almost any part of a railway -carriage in motion without arresting attention. - -Would that a novelist who regularly “anticipates” were here! How he might -expatiate! Beginning thus, he might go on exhausting ink-bottles and -filling pages at pleasure:-- - -“Ah! little could Will dream, little could any one present dream, what -destiny had in store for that bull’s-eye! How different was its fate from -that which the benevolent gentleman supposed it would be!” - -But it is cowardly and wicked in a writer to anticipate. - -The kind hearted Yankee left the car soon after giving Will the -bull’s-eye, so that he was not a witness of what was to happen. - -The rejected bull’s-eye, set in motion by the car, gradually made its -way into the middle of the passage between the two rows of seats, here it -stopped. If noticed by any person, it was not coveted, but was suffered -to lie there in peace. - -Yes, there it lay; its locomotion arrested; its wanderings brought to a -close. - -But hist! who enters? - -It is the “Student of Human Nature.” - -A gaunt yet spiritual-looking man opens the door, and slowly and -pompously, he marches towards the other end of the car. - -His air, his gait, his costume, even to his boots, his cane--all were -peculiar. - -His object in life was to rove hither and thither, studying that grand -theme, Human Nature. Although above conversing with his fellow creatures, -excepting when obliged to do so, his delight was to find some quiet -spot from which he might form opinions of them without being disturbed. -Whether he makes this employment “pay” by writing treatises on the -subject, is a question which only he himself can answer. What he pretends -to comprehend may be, and doubtless is, a noble science; but in his hands -it is only a mockery. - -Only two or three persons in the railway carriage knew the man or his -employment, but his demeanor could not fail strongly to impress the -looker-on. - -His intention, on this occasion, was to take a seat in some dark corner, -from which he might observe the occupants of the car. With stately tread -he approached that bull’s-eye, placed his foot on it in such a way that -it rolled, and with a crash the student fell headlong, with anything but -“studied grace.” - -He was on his feet again before assistance could be offered--this, -however, was not remarkable, as nearly every one present was convulsed -by laughter--and, after glancing malignantly at the cause of his fall, -he scowled horribly on two or three of the loudest laughers, and then -tore his handkerchief out of his pocket. Too late! A flow of blood was -streaming fast from his nose, which organ had apparently been bruised in -his fall. - -A boy with the “nosebleed” is an object alike of laughter and pity; but a -man with a bleeding nostril! Certainly his situation is ignominious. And -the situation of the student on this occasion was more than ordinarily -ludicrous. - -How blind and wilful, how paradoxical men are! What a favorable -opportunity now offered for observing the various emotions depicted -on the faces of those people! Some were expressing their feelings by -their rapidly-working features; others by their waggish gesticulations; -still others by half suppressed interjections. While some looked merely -amused, others looked awe-struck: only two persons seemed sympathetic. -The more solemn passengers looked on with dignified serenity; but a -smile of savage delight, indicative of innate depravity or blasted hopes -and bitterness of heart, played over the wan faces of certain jaded and -woebegone book agents. A few paid no attention whatever, while a great -many made praiseworthy endeavors to keep their facial muscles from -twitching. - -But the Student of Human Nature left this vast mine unexplored, and -hurried out of the car, hiding his bleeding nose in his handkerchief. - -The now notable bull’s-eye was still in sight, and it was plain to all -that it had caused the mishap. The old lady looked at it intently, and -was heard to mutter that she knew no good would come from rewarding the -boy for his wickedness. - -A tender-hearted person is severely punished when his own wrong-doing -subjects another to pain or annoyance. Now Will was tender-hearted: he -lay nestled in a corner of his seat, almost hidden from the occupants -of the car, doing penance by heaving dolorous sighs and shedding a few -remorseful tears. - -His father and mother seemed ill at ease. Presently the former stooped -over him with awful solemnity, and whispered, “Oh, Will! why did you drop -that on the floor, when you could just as well have thrown it out of the -window! Your blunders are sufficiently bad when they affect yourself -alone; but they are lamentable when their results are disastrous to -others. You are old enough now to behave like a little gentleman; promise -me that you will be a good boy.” - -On the instant Will ceased both to heave sighs and to shed tears, and he -earnestly promised to do better for the future. - -In his way, Mr. Lawrence was a philosopher. He knew that any boy on being -addressed in such terms and forgiven, instantly dries his tears, breaks -into smiles, and promises to do great things. He reflected on this, and -spoke as he did because he did not wish his son’s eyes to be red and -swollen with crying when he should reach his destination. - -Soon after the train slowed into the station at which they were to -alight. The good old lady softened so far as to bid the bareheaded boy -good-bye as he stumbled out of the car. The first thing to be done was -to buy him a hat, since his parents had not been so provident as to take -along an extra one. This was managed by leaving him and his father at the -depot, while Mrs. Lawrence went to the nearest hat store. The good soul -also bought some sugar-plums to replace the present which Will had lost. - -As soon as the novelty of Will’s new hat had worn off, so far, at least, -as to allow it to remain quietly on his head, he and his mother went to -spend the rest of the day at the house of a relative, while Mr. Lawrence -made his way to a law office. - -About nightfall the three returned to the depot, took passage by the -cars, and were soon on their way homeward. - -It was still early in the evening, but the family party did not expect to -reach home till past midnight. - -Will was thinking--not of his latest blunders, but of some second-hand -presents that he had received from his cousin, Henry. Mr. Lawrence, who -was accustomed to travel, seemed inclined to fall asleep--in fact, they -had not proceeded far on their way when a gentle snoring evinced that he -was indeed asleep. Will fancied that his mother also seemed tired and -drowsy, and he hastily concluded that his parents would have to depend -upon him to be awakened when the train reached their station. - -This thought kept the boy on the alert, and he took pride in the -confidence thus placed in him. To him, however, the time passed much more -slowly than when going to the city in the morning. This was only to be -expected. Then, the sun was shining bright, the car was full of people, -and his parents were wide-awake and in a humor to talk to him; now, it -was night,--calm and starlit, but night,--the three were almost entirely -alone in the car, and his parents were tired, sleepy, and silent. - -Nevertheless, much as he wished to keep awake, he at last fell into a -doze, from which he was aroused by the train’s coming to a stop and the -brakesman’s shouting out the name of a station. The name seemed familiar, -and Will, rubbing his eyes and yawning, at once began to reason, aloud: -“Our station! I must wake pa and ma, or the train will go on.” - -Both were awakened without delay. - -“What! is this our station already?” Mr. Lawrence asked, with some -surprise. “You must be mistaken, Will--or have I really been asleep?” - -“Yes, sir, you have been asleep: and this is our station.” - -“Then there’s no time to be lost, I suppose;” and Mr. Lawrence snatched -up his valise and started towards the door, followed by his wife and son. - -“I almost wish we had stayed at Aunt Eleanor’s,” he muttered, as he -helped them off the train. “But I _must_ attend to that business in the -morning; and, fortunately, our house is not far from the depot.” - -They stepped out on the platform and the train was off on the instant. -Mr. Lawrence went into the ticket-office, to speak to the night operator, -and, to his consternation, found that instead of being his own village, -he was at another, full twenty miles away. - -His first act was to rush outside and make a vain attempt to signal the -engineer to stop the train. Too late! It had already left the station, -and was moving faster and faster. - -That hope blasted, the unhappy man did not know what course to take, and -he strode up and down the platform like a mad man; while his wife and son -stood meekly by, the one filled with deep displeasure, the other with -agonizing grief and despair. - -Presently Mr. Lawrence halted before the boy, with these words: “Oh, -Will! How could you have made such a blunder? I fail to trace a striking -resemblance between the name of this place and that of our own. You, who -know so much about geography, _you_ to be so grossly ignorant respecting -your own county! In an hour from this time we should have been at -home.--Never mind, Will,” he added in softer tones. “Come, don’t cry; I -suppose you, too, were asleep.” - -“Yes, I must have been asleep,” Will acknowledged. - -The writer does not entertain much respect for Mr. Lawrence, because -he was a man who alternately checked and indulged his son. But, on the -whole, he was a discreet and affectionate parent--at all events, Will -loved and honored him. - -“I say,” Mr. Lawrence cried to a man with a lantern, “I say, when will -the next train going west be due?” - -“Next train for you, sir? In just three hours,” was the cheering answer. - -“Then my business is ruined!” groaned the unhappy man. - -However, this fretfulness at length wore away, and the three resigned -themselves to wait, as patiently as might be, for the arrival of the next -train. Mrs. Lawrence went into the waiting room, while Mr. Lawrence and -Will spent most of the time out on the platform, gazing at the stars and -the signals along the railway-track. - -After Mr. Lawrence had talked himself hoarse about the signs of the -zodiac, the perfection of signals used on the railways, and the -stupendous power of steam, he determined to improve the remaining time -by reasoning with his son on the sin of carelessness. Will--whose ears -were ringing with such terms as _spherical bodies_, _solar immensity_, -_eternal revolutions_, _average momentum_, _preternatural velocity_, -_lunar cycles_, _semaphorical warnings_, and _planetary systems_--sighed -on this change in the conversation, for he loved sonorous phraseology, -but listened humbly. After a long lecture, in which he touched upon -various matters not pertinent to his subject, Mr. Lawrence made a dark -allusion to his “ruined business,” and then wound up with these words: - -“Will, if you continue in your present course, I am afraid your end will -be as terrible as your uncle Dick’s.” - -“What became of Uncle Dick, pa?” eagerly inquired the boy, thinking that -the subject would again be changed. - -Poor boy! he felt his guilt, but he winced under his father’s -polysyllabic reprimands. - -“Listen, Will,” said Mr. Lawrence, “and I will give you a short -account of your uncle. Uncle Dick, my brother, was an eccentric man; -good-natured, but credulous, and always making blunders. In that -particular, he was not unlike you; but his blunders were far more serious -in their results than yours. Early in life he made a large fortune by -lucky speculations. One day he drew all his money from the banks and -collected all that he could from his debtors--for what purpose I never -knew; for, no sooner did he get his wealth into his own hands, than both -he and it vanished, and nothing has since been seen or heard of either. -Some suppose that he was robbed and murdered in the approved way; others, -that he left the country, to return unawares at some future time; while -a few unprincipled barbarians maintain that he has lost his mind. I, -myself, think that by some great blunder, or unlucky speculation, he lost -all his wealth, and prefers to stay away till he can return worth as much -as, or more than, he was before. Poor Dick! his fate is wrapped in awful -mystery.” - -Mr. Lawrence considered himself an apt story-teller, and delighted in -his own narratives. But Will, to whom this story was new and almost -unintelligible, strove to discern even the faintest resemblance between -Uncle Dick’s doings and his own. - -“I do not often speak of my poor brother,” Mr. Lawrence said sadly, “but -I think of him and dream of him, always. But, Will, I know you are good -and sincere in your heart of heart; this misfortune was only a blunder; -and so let us think no more of the matter.” - -Gentle reader, observe that the mournful story of Will’s uncle is told on -the thirty-first page. Observe this carefully, as in the future you may -wish to read it again. - -At that instant, news that nearly made Will a hero was flashed along the -wires. - -Voices, loud and eager, were heard in the office. Mr. Lawrence went in to -make inquiries, and learned that an accident had happened to the train -from which he had been so abruptly hurried by his son. - -The car in which they had been riding had broken loose, been hurled down -an embankment, and wrecked. Only two or three men were in the car at the -time, and they, being awake, had sprung nimbly and saved themselves, -though almost by a miracle. A few persons in another car were jolted and -disconcerted, but no one was hurt. The train was thrown into disorder, -and part of the track torn up; so that the railway would not be passable -for a few hours. - -It was evident to Mr. Lawrence that, had he been in the car with his wife -and child at the time of the accident, they must have suffered a cruel -death, or else have escaped horribly mangled. Suppose that they had not -been asleep, he would still have met with great difficulty in saving them -before the doomed car went to destruction. - -They owed their preservation then, first, to Divine Providence; secondly, -to Will’s blunder. - -Mr. and Mrs. Lawrence were not slow to acknowledge this, and the boy -perceived that, at last, his worth was appreciated. - -In process of time the night wore away; the road was repaired; and -father, mother, and son, pursuing their journey, reached home early in -the morning. - -Mr. Lawrence’s business was not “ruined,” after all; for the man whom he -wished to see was also detained by the accident, but finally made his -appearance; and the business, which was really of importance, was soon -concluded. - -The three slept peacefully and soundly afterwards, for the occurrences of -the last twenty-four hours had exhausted them. - -From that time forward Mr. Lawrence generally passed by Will’s blunders -without rebuke; for he had determined not to reprove the boy again, -unless it should be a vital necessity. - -In this way it chanced that Will’s childish blunder happened for the -best, after all. - -Whereas these two chapters are merely expletive,--that is, are as useful -as the word _it_ in the following verse: - - “For the deck it was their field of fame,”-- - -it would be better to say no more about this blunder of Will’s, but -commence the story proper. - - - - -_Chapter III._ - -WILL’S NATIVE VILLAGE. - - -Another period in Will’s life has come. He is no longer a little boy, -but an agile, robust, crop-headed youngster of fourteen. He has by no -means outgrown the errors of his childhood: on the contrary, they stick -to him more closely than ever; and to speak of Will without referring to -them is--well, is merely a matter of courtesy. His parents have given up -all hope of his ever ceasing to make blunders--in fact, they have come -to expect nothing but blunders from him. They are no longer surprised -at whatever he does, or at whatever happens to him; they would be more -surprised to see him live without making blunders than at whatever might -befall; and remembering how fortunate was his blunder on the train a few -years before, they no longer find fault with him. - -It would be foolish, however, to detail all the minor adventures through -which he passed--foolish and tiresome to the reader. Still, it must not -be taken for granted that all Will’s troubles rose from blunders, as -many of them rose from such mishaps as might happen to any boy. - -In order to make the incidents related in this story perfectly -intelligible, it will be necessary to give a rambling description of the -neighborhood in which they took place. - -Mr. Lawrence’s farm was a short distance out of a busy and flourishing -village, built on one of the great lakes of America. His home, as well as -a few cottages belonging to him, was within the limits of this village. -His farm was highly cultivated and full stocked, and a railway ran -through it and then on through the village. To these natural advantages -add that Mr. Lawrence was an intelligent man and practical farmer, -knowing how to improve his opportunities, and it will be seen that he was -well situated. - -As for the village itself, it contained the ordinary number of -inhabitants and hotels. Here lived “the most skilful dentist in the -state;” but so modest was he that what was formerly a barrister’s office -(this will define the size of the apartment) served him admirably for -a “dentistry;” while an upper room in the same building, “artistically -fitted up,” served him for a “photographic gallery.” Here lived “the -most expert ball-player out of New York.” But his business was not to -play ball;--rather, he did not follow it as a profession;--he kept a -“Yankee notions store,” with a hanging aquarium in the window, and brewed -soda-water and ice-cream. In this gentleman’s “salon” many a rustic -indulged with his first dish of ice cream, eating it at the rate of two -exceedingly small spoonfuls a minute. His actions and the expression -of his countenance declared that it was monotonous, cold, and doubtful -enjoyment; but the village papers, the expert ball-player, and public -opinion, told him that it is an extraordinary delicacy, and he tried hard -to believe so. The rustic would sometimes bring along his sweetheart. -Then he ate his ice cream still more slowly; but probably it tasted -better. Two newspapers (so-called) were printed here, and the villagers -could tell you that each one had been the pecuniary ruin of six or seven -editors. These ex-editors still lived in the neighborhood,--some as -bookkeepers, others as insurance agents,--a warning to all right-minded -men to soar higher (or lower) than the editorship of a village newspaper. -But no one heeded the warning, and no sooner did an editor become -insolvent or entangled in a libel suit than somebody else was ready to -“assume the arduous duty of conducting the publication.” So long as the -new editor had means, excelled in bombast and calumny, was sound in his -political creed and could make vigorous attacks on his “contemporary,” -who supported the doctrines of the other party, all went well for a time; -but sooner or later the end came and then one more ex-editor was thrown -upon the people of the village. - -The principal buildings were the bank, the churches, the town-hall, the -livery stable, the fulling-mill, the chair-factory, the fork-factory, the -Columbia foundry, the hotels, and several private residences. The village -had also its harbor, where vessels plying their trade on the lakes might -worry through the roughest gale that the most talented writer of nautical -romances ever conjured up. - -But there was nothing remarkable respecting either its site, its -size, the regularity or magnificence of its buildings, its commercial -importance, or its antiquity. Further, it was not known to history. - -A very large stream, or small river, flowed through the village, emptying -into the lake. (To be still more accurate: the people of this particular -village customarily called it “_the_ river;” while the base and envious -inhabitants of the neighboring villages--through which flowed no such -stream--took special pains to call it “_a_ creek.”) Several mills of -different kinds bordered this river, adding to the credit and vigor -of the place. About three miles up from its mouth there was a large -and natural waterfall, a favorite resort of the villagers and country -people. The current above these falls was not very swift, but it would be -perilous indeed to be swept over them. Shrubs, and at intervals, trees; -gay little boat-houses, where the ground sloped gradually to the water’s -edge; in the background commodious, ornamental, and pretentious dwelling -houses, habitations, or villas;--such dotted the right bank of the river -above the falls, presenting a fine appearance from the left bank. - -This stream affording good fishing, sportsmen often came to it from -a distance. But they generally lost more in cuticle, clothing, and -valuables, than they gained in fish, sport, or glory; and it was remarked -that they never returned after the third time. - -There were many considerations why the water below the falls was not -the principal play-ground of the juveniles. Being within the village, -swimming was out of the question; on account of sundry sunken logs and -other obstructions, they could not paddle about secure and tranquil on -the crazy old rafts and scows; and lastly, almost the whole stretch of -water below the falls lay open to the mothers’ watchful eyes, and the -boys did not feel inclined to jeopard their lives within sight of those -mothers. To some fastidious youths the water, perhaps, was too dirty, or -“roily.” - -Above the falls, however, all was different. On the upper part of the -river no one ever molested the youngsters, unless they did something -atrocious; here they might swim and paddle up and down the river as much -as they pleased; for, in general, the banks were high, and bushes, rank -grass and reeds and other screens intervened, shutting them off from -outsiders. - -The river was wide and deep at the falls, but above them it grew narrow -and shallow little by little. Five miles up it was a mere brook. -Throughout this long stretch the water was so clear that the most -fastidious did not hesitate even to drink it; and there were secluded -places that as swimming-places could not be equalled. At the falls the -water was so deep as easily to float over any log or brush-wood that -might come into the river from its banks, its source, or other streams. - -One particular spot--a clump of evergreens, where forget-me-nots sprang -up in all their beauty, and where Nature was seen at her best--was held -sacred to lovers. But there were many parts of the river to which -the boys stoutly maintained their claim and of which no one was so -hard-hearted as to dispossess them. And oh! crowning joy! there was an -island in the river! - -At this the reader may think that we are trifling with his feelings; -imposing on his credulity;--he may even refuse to believe in the -existence of so extraordinary a river. Never mind. But if the reader -wishes to enjoy these pages he will refuse to listen to the dictates of -reason, and look on this story as an orthodox romance. - -In winter there was another attraction, that of skating, the danger -of which was a continual source of uneasiness to parents whose youth, -agility, and frolicsomeness had long before given place to gray hairs, -clumsiness, and sober-mindedness. - -As the proprietors of the land along the river were generous-hearted men, -the river was free to all people, and was an actual paradise for boys and -picnickers. - -Although further remarks might be made about this river, it is not -necessary to make them here. It is sufficient to add that as the reader -proceeds, he will observe how admirably this river is adapted to the -exigencies of the story. - -This was the state of affairs in Will’s boyhood. But, alas! all has -changed since that time. A foreign aristocrat has bought up all the -land along the river, which he has fenced in, stocked with fish and -beautified--perhaps, _disfigured_--with sundry little wharfs, capes, -bays, stretches of “pebbly beach,” and floating islands. In conspicuous -places notices may be seen, beginning with “No Trespassing” and winding -up with the amount of the fine imposed on all persons “caught lurking -within the limits.” Consequently, the urchins of to-day, despoiled of -this haunt, have to content themselves with damaging the notices and -slinging stones at the swans that sail gracefully up and down the river. - -There were also smaller streams in the neighborhood, one being in Mr. -Lawrence’s farm. - -To the left of the village stood an extensive grove, swarming with -squirrels, birds, insects, and, of course, mosquitoes. In this grove the -heroes of this story whiled away many a happy hour; and when not on the -river they might generally be found here. - -The lake also was a favorite resort, and on its broad surface they -sailed or rowed hither and thither; always getting wet, often narrowly -escaping death. Sometimes their joyous hearts were elated with a ride on -a tug; but when hard pressed they made almost anything serve them for -a boat. As naturally as a duck takes to water, Will and his associates -took to making little ships, which excited the admiration of all -beholders--sometimes on account of their beauty, but generally on account -of their liability to float stern foremost, with the masts at an angle of -twenty degrees. - -Then there was the school-house,--a fanciful, yet imposing edifice, the -grained and polished jambs of whose mullioned windows had suffered from -the ravages rather of jack-knives than of time,--built in a retired -quarter of the village, and to the boys’ entire satisfaction, quite close -to the river. - -If Will wished to go to the wharf he could walk thither in less than -half-an-hour; to the depot in ten minutes; to the school,--well, in from -twenty to forty minutes. To Mrs. Lawrence’s delight, it was nearly two -miles from their house to the falls. She had not the heart to forbid -Will’s going thither, but she fondly hoped that the distance would not -permit him to go very often; for, according to her view of the matter, -water and danger are synonymous. - -But what are two miles to a boy, when a waterfall, a limpid and -gleaming river, boats, crazy rafts, plenty of fish, and other boys, are -the attractions? In fact, the time was never known, not even to that -venerable personage, “the oldest inhabitant,” in which a boy might not be -seen about those falls. - -It is not strange that the youth of this village were happy, when Nature -had done so much for them. - - - - -_Chapter IV._ - -THE HEROES OF THIS HISTORY - - -Having given this slight and imperfect description of Will’s native -place, his school-fellows must now be introduced. - -The boy whom he liked best was Charles Growler; a youth of his own age, -but possessed with greater abilities, and a universal favorite in the -village. Charles was nimble, strong, and good-natured; ready for any -adventure or exploit, and the very soul of drollery. No matter what might -happen he never lost his temper, his presence of mind, or his keen humor. -He was a very brave boy, rushing headlong into every kind of danger. In -fact, the boys admitted that they had never known him to be afraid. - -He and Will entered school at the same time and had kept together in all -their studies. There was no jealousy or rivalry between them, nothing but -a quiet and laudable competition, which stimulated each one to do his -best. When one could assist the other he did so willingly and gladly. No -boy ever had a more sincere friend than Will in Charles or Charles in -Will. And yet this boy Charles was nicknamed “Buffoon.” Not, however, on -account of clownishness or monkey tricks, but simply on account of his -love of fun. - -George Andrews was another boy of the village, associated with Will and -Charles. He was a good boy, smart and shrewd, but too much disposed to -display his abilities and his knowledge. In his tender childhood he had -overheard a weak-headed fellow drawl out, “Yes, George will make an -excellent scholard; I guess he’s a good scholard a’ready.” This so filled -the young hero with self-conceit that he really believed that he, a mere -boy, was indeed a scholar! Firm in this belief, he never let slip an -opportunity in which he might avail himself of his superior knowledge; -and having read a great deal in all sorts of books,--particularly in -certain musty and ponderous volumes that treated of everything under the -sun--he was able to have his say, it made no difference what subject -was being discussed. But, alas! he was just as apt to be wrong as to -be right; and worse still, his information, like the Dutchman’s wit, -generally came too late to be duly appreciated. He was a few months older -than Will and Charles, and outstripped them both in his studies. The boys -always rejoiced to have him accompany them--partly because of his actual -cleverness, partly because of his immoderate self-conceit, as it was -very amusing to hear him hold forth on a subject of which he really was -totally ignorant. Not at all to his disinclination this boy was dubbed -“the Sage.” - -Marmaduke Baldwin Alphonso Fitz-Williams was a youth, the grandeur of -whose name drove abashed Johns and Thomases almost to phrensy. But the -name befitted the boy, for even at his tender age his mind was occupied -with strange thoughts. He delighted in the romantic; indeed, he had lived -in an atmosphere of romance from his baptism. This heavy cloud of romance -obscured the boy’s ideas, and sometimes caused him to speak and act more -like a hero of fiction than was seemly. When alone he would slide his -hand into his bosom over his heart, whenever the weight of romance and -mystery was more than ordinarily oppressive, and if his heart beat fast -he was satisfied with himself. - -The boy who detects the conception of a nocturnal robbery or murder -in a stranger’s eye, simply because he [the cautious stranger] slips -his hand stealthily into his “pistol pocket,”--in this case the breast -pocket--to assure himself that his watch is still there, is a remarkably -shrewd member of the human race, whose genius and acuteness should be -diligently fostered. And such a boy was Marmaduke. But it was neither -fear nor idiocy that caused him to think thus; it was only an extravagant -imagination. - -Marmaduke and George resembled each other in many particulars: each -one was prompt to arrive at startling conclusions; each one believed -himself equal to any emergency; but George was far more practical than -Marmaduke. Each of these boys took pleasure in learning, and each one -manifested a puerile eagerness to let people see how well informed he -was. For instance, they flattered themselves that they were accomplished -grammarians, and when any reference was made to grammar both looked very -knowing, as much as to say that _they_ apprehended what was meant. - -Marmaduke had a strong will of his own, but, by manœuvring artfully, -Charles could generally make him look at things from his point of view. -The boys took advantage of his love for the marvellous to play mean -tricks on him; but when he found that they were making game of him, he -flew into a passion, and made himself ridiculous. - -Poor boy! Though he is called Marmaduke in this book, his poetic names -were too long for everybody except his parents; and while his teachers -called him Mark, the school-boys called him “Marmalade,” or “Dreamer,” or -something else quite as appropriate and scurrilous. Some envious little -Smiths and Greens did not scruple to call him “Fitty.” - -Next on the list is Stephen Goodfellow, one of the most important -characters in the tale. He was a fun-loving fellow, fertile in devices, -an adept at repartee, and too light-hearted to be serious for more than -five consecutive minutes. In a word, he was the most nimble, sprightly, -ingenious and good-natured boy in the village. At the same time he was -the most reckless of all boys, taking pride in rushing blindly into -danger. Indeed, he affected a stoical contempt for every kind of danger; -jumped backwards off empty schooners with his eyes shut; made friends -with the most unamiable and untractable bull-dogs in the place; lowered -himself into deep, dismal, and unsafe old wells to wake the echoes with -his bellowing voice, and busied himself about the punching and shearing -machine, the steam engine, and the circular saws in the Columbia foundry. -He knew every sailor of all the vessels that put into the harbor; knew -every engineer and brakeman on all the trains that passed through the -village; knew the name and disposition of every respectable dog within -the corporation; knew just where to look for the best raspberries and -the most desirable fish-worms; but he _didn’t_ know an adversative -conjunction from an iambic pentameter. - -To be acquainted with this boy was to like him. By Will and Charles -he was actually beloved, and there was a mutual and lasting affection -between him and all our heroes. He was always ready to lend them his -counsel and assistance when agitating their dark schemes, and when any -waggish trick was in view, or when anything ludicrous was going on, his -approval and support were the first consideration. Some of the urchins -tried to equal Stephen’s feats of dexterity and to ape his sallies and -whimsicalness; but it could not be done, and they only exposed themselves -to his derision and made themselves more envious and unhappy than before. -Stephen was familiarly known as “Stunner;” which, being offensively -vulgar, we, out of respect for the reader’s feelings, have transposed -into Steve. - -If this were the history of a sailor-boy, Steve would assuredly be the -hero; and we should eulogize him so unweariedly and enthusiastically that -the heroes of romance, goaded to frenzy by the praise thus lavished on -him, would commission their ghosts to haunt us. But Steve has nothing to -do with sailor-boys; and as we do not wish to incur the displeasure of -such heroes,--much less the displeasure of their ghosts,--or to compel -anybody to fall in love with him, it will be the wisest course to leave -it for impartial readers to praise him or to condemn him, to love him or -to detest him, as their judgment may determine. - -George and Marmaduke, to the best of their ability, cultivated the -_science of grammar_; Stephen cultivated the _art of dismembering -grammars_, and of blazoning their fly-leaves with hideous designs of -frolicsome sea-serpents; wrecked schooners; what seemed to be superb -pagan temples suffering from the effects of an earthquake; crazy old -jades painfully drawing along glittering circus vans, with coatless -little boys--some took them for monkeys, but probably they were -circus prodigies--sitting _in_ the roof and driving; and all sorts of -monstrosities. We say _grammars_: Stephen’s designs were to be found -chiefly in them. But he was no niggard of his illustrations; for, to his -noble nature, it mattered little whether the book which he illuminated -belonged--so long as it was old and dilapidated--to himself or to -somebody else. - -Last and least was James Horner. He was an infamous coward--in fact, so -infamous that although fifteen years old, even a sudden and loud sound -would unstring his nerves and twitch his facial muscles. As a natural -consequence, he very often heard sudden and loud sounds--in fact, he -heard all sorts of hideous and unaccountable sounds. But the boy was by -no means an entire fool; and he made greater progress at school than -might be expected. It is a lamentable fact--which, however, must be -chronicled--that his playfellows studied to excite his fears, and played -off some of their most farcical, sly, and atrocious tricks on him. Will -and Charles had too much self-respect and sound moral principle to snub -the boy; but Steve seemed to take a savage delight in snubbing him and in -turning him into ridicule. But, though many a sportive trick was played -on him, his confidence in mankind was still so great that he was very -easily deceived, it made no difference how often he was mocked. In this -confidence the others might well have copied after him. On the other -hand, his disposition was unamiable, and under undue provocation he was -a dangerous boy, who could harbour revenge. Nevertheless, he hardly ever -ventured to interfere with the boys’ schemes, but blindly and humbly -followed wherever they might lead. Why our heroes tolerated his company -can be explained on only two grounds: first, because they liked to play -tricks on him; secondly, because this history requires such a character. -When not called Jim, this abused lad was branded “Timor,” which shows how -notorious he was for cowardice. But in process of time this classical gem -became corrupted by the ignorant into “Tim.” - -These five were the school-fellows and associates of Will, and generally -the six might be found together. It was only natural that they should -quarrel sometimes; but, for the most part, they were at peace with -themselves and all other boys. They were all full of mischievousness, but -taking everything into consideration, were as free from sin as boys can -be. - -There is another youth that figures in this tale--Will’s cousin Henry. -He is perhaps the most distinguished hero. However, it is not yet time -for him; and as it is dogmatically and impolitically observed a few pages -back that it is cowardly and wicked in a writer to anticipate, he must -not yet be introduced. - - - - -_Chapter V._ - -AN UNPLEASANT RIDE FOR WILL. - - -One bright morning Will mounted a frisky little pony which had been -reared on the farm, and had always been considered Will’s own--not till -Mr. Lawrence might see fit to sell it, but for all time. The pony was -young and unaccustomed to a rider; but Will and his father thought it -would be prudent to ride it on the road. - -In this belief, however, they were mistaken, for the horse no sooner -found himself on the open road than he set forward on a wild gallop. At -first this was very pleasant, and Will enjoyed it heartily; but when he -attempted to check the animal’s speed a little, he became aware that it -was past his control. - -“Whoa, Go It! Whoa! Whoa! Whoa!” Will screamed beseechingly. - -This only incited Go It to greater efforts, and he redoubled his speed; -while Will collected his wits, stopped shouting at the refractory animal, -and exerted all his strength and dexterity to maintain his equilibrium in -the saddle. The mettlesome horse was soon galloping at a furious rate; -and the luckless rider seeing no one to whom he could appeal for help, -gave himself up as lost, and endeavored to prepare for the worst. - -Very soon he drew near a company of little ragged orphan boys, squatting -in the imperfect shade of a rail fence that boarded the road, gingerly -sticking pins into their ears and assiduously polishing their war-worn -jack-knives in the soil. These heroic little ones involuntarily dropped -their instruments of torture and diversion, and beheld horseman and horse -with ecstatic admiration and delight. Then they collected themselves and -cheered--cheered so lustily that the horse snorted with fright, wheeled -to the left, and vaulted over the fence at a single bound--a feat which -called forth a roar of acclamation from the delighted juveniles. - -“Can’t he jump!” chuckled the sharpest one. - -“Jump?” echoed another. “Guess he can; beats a circus horse all hollow!” - -“I wish he’d jump again,” sighed the smallest one. - -“Ah,” exclaims the punctilious penman of romances which have lofty and -sonorous titles, becoming solemnity, inflated and funereal style, and -blood-freezing adventures--which, alas! too often end in smoke, or at -most, in a marriage that any fool could have foreseen--“Ah, how can this -paltry scribbler, this ‘we,’ discourse with this shameless levity, when -his hero is face to face with death!” - -Instead of evading the penman’s intended question, the following -significant and sapient comments are offered for his leisurely -consideration: - -It is sheer nonsense for a writer to work himself up into a state of -mad excitement about the “imminent dangers” that continually dog the -foot-steps of his persecuted heroes. So long as the hero is of the -surviving kind, he will survive every “imminent danger,” no matter how -thick and fast such dangers may crowd upon him. No assassin was ever -hired that could kill him for any great length of time; no vessel ever -foundered that could effectively swallow him up; no bullet was ever run -that could be prevailed on to extinguish the spark of his life. - -After making such comments, for the reader’s peace of mind we -deliberately affirm that every man, woman, and child figuring in this -tale, is equally imperishable. Having made this candid remark, the -reader cannot impute it to us if he spend a sleepless night while -perusing this tale. - -But it would be wiser to drop idle declamation for the present, and -return to Will and his frisky pony. - -When the horse so nimbly cleared the fence, Will’s feet were torn out of -the stirrup, and he was thrown violently off the animal’s back. As he -lay sprawling on the ground, he looked as little like a hero as can be -imagined. As may be supposed, however, when he struggled to his feet he -was as sound as ever. On casting a glance around him, he found himself in -a field of ripe grain, through which the riderless pony was rushing madly. - -Perhaps a good romancer, regardless of reason and effect, would have made -the boy “heroically” stick to his horse through thick and thin. But a -more careful romancer, like a good physician, would have an eye to the -boy’s system and feelings, and not suffer him to be tortured any longer. - -Will carefully rubbed the dirt off his clothes with the palm of his -trembling right hand, while his eyes darted fierce glances at the gaping -and grinning juveniles outside of the fence, and despairing glances at -his horse within the field. This nice operation consumed three minutes, -and might have consumed many more; but a man who was at hand flew to the -rescue. - -A blustering old harvester, the man who worked the field, saw the forlorn -young cavalier standing dejectedly by the fence, and the frolicsome -pony plunging through the ripe grain, and straightway fumed with awful -indignation. His first proceeding was to catch and stop the pony, after -which he turned his attention to Will. Will advanced a step or so to meet -the puffing farmer and the quaking horse, and was about to mumble his -thanks, when the farmer snappishly cut him short, crying hoarsely: - -“You miserable scamp! How dare you jump into my fields like this? See, -will you, what damage your beast has done!” - -“But, sir,” said Will, “it is not my fault at all; it is an accident. -The pony ran away with me, as you yourself can see.” - -“Accident? What have I to do with your accidents? Don’t you know better -than to ride runaway horses? Don’t you----” - -“Course he don’t; don’t know beans;” yelled one of the little gamins, -encouraged by the farmer’s bullying words to speak his mind. Or perhaps -he thought to win favor with the farmer by reviling the hapless horseman. - -“Course,” chimed in the one who lost and found the most jack-knives. -“Course, what business did he want to git on to a runaway horse for -anyway?” - -“I wish I had a horse, too,” whined the most “ingenuous” one. - -“Guess he ain’t--” - -“Stop that!” thundered the farmer. “Stop that, and get away from this!” - -The little coves snatched up their jack-knives, but did not stop to look -for their pins, and darted off without a word. They ran a few yards and -then squatted in the shade of another fence corner. - -The incensed farmer, also, meekly followed by Will leading the horse, -moved farther up the border of the field. - -When they halted, Will a second time said it was all an accident. - -“Accident or not, I’ll put the law on your track, I will you awful sneak! -See here, how old are you!” - -“I shall be fifteen in September,” said Will, with boyish eagerness to -appear as old as possible. - -“I didn’t ask how old you would be in the future, nor how young you were -in the past,” snapped the furrow-faced chuff. - -Will always kept a careful account of his age, and consequently was able -to answer promptly: “My age, then, is fourteen years, ten months, and -seven days.” - -“Very good,” said the farmer. “Well, I am only calculating,” he added -slowly and coolly, “whether you are old enough to be sent to jail.” - -Doubtless, the hard-hearted wretch expected to see Will blanch at this -implied threat. But, if so, he was wofully disappointed, Will having his -own motives for maintaining his equanimity. - -“You shall be punished, that is certain,” continued the farmer. “Come -along, now; don’t stand there like a stationary scarecrow; come along.” - -Even as the violent old fellow spoke, he made a movement to seize Will -by the coat-collar. But this was more than human nature could bear; and -with a nimbleness that defied capture, Will sprang back, stood his ground -within nine feet of his persecutor, and began boldly: - -“If you mean for me to leave this field, sir, I am quite willing to do -it; but it is not necessary for you to be so rough with me. Because my -horse jumped over the fence and trampled the grain a little, you needn’t -treat me like a convict. You yourself have trampled nearly as much as my -horse; and the whole put together doesn’t amount to much.” - -“Stop there!” cried the farmer. “I was obliged to tramp the grain to -catch your horse. I didn’t wait for _you_ to do it,” insultingly. - -“Yes, sir,” Will said humbly, “my head was bumped pretty hard. My father -will settle your account, but if you would like to put me into prison, -don’t let my youth interfere with that.” - -Meanwhile, Will was leading his pony towards a gate in the fence, which -he reached as he finished speaking. - -The farmer, who followed close behind, said sharply, “You are a pretty -fellow to use such language as all this to me; and it is only a waste of -breath for you to speak at all. According to you, it was great bravery -to jump my fences and rush through my oats; but the law will think -otherwise, and as certainly as I live, you shall be clapped into prison, -or else pay whatever sum I may choose to fine you. I swear it.” - -“That is only what I can expect,” Will said resignedly. - -“Oh, you think I am not in earnest, perhaps, but you will soon find that -I mean exactly what I say. What’s your name?” he asked, abruptly and -uneasily, as if struck with a sudden suspicion. - -“William Lawrence.” - -The questioner was literally stupified. A look of dismay overspread his -grim visage, and he stared helplessly at Will, as if the boy had been -metamorphosed into a devouring monster. - -For a full minute the jurist was mute, and when he did speak, meekness -had entirely taken the place of bravado. “You’ll excuse my little jest, -won’t you, Mr. Lawrence? It is a shabby trick to joke so seriously, I -know; but it was only an idle joke, and doesn’t signify anything. I -_was_ some vexed to see the horse racing through the grain, but only -for an instant. How thankful we ought to be that you escaped unhurt! -To be sure, it was rather venturesome for me to rush forward and stop -the furious horse,” he said, guilefully, “but that is nothing compared -with your gallantry in keeping your seat so heroically. In fact, Mr. -Lawrence, I may say, without flattery, that you are a real hero, and that -this agile little pony of yours is the most spirited that I ever saw. -Indeed, he’s worth his weight in gold! Why, he vaulted over this fence -like--like--like a bird!” - -In spite of himself, Will, nearly laughed at this labored simile. But he -was a strange boy, and enjoyed the faculty of suppressing his laughter -till he pleased to discharge it. Then he would laugh so uproariously that -whoever chanced to overhear him took him for a merry lunatic. - -But there were other considerations why Will did not laugh at the -suppliant joker. In his turn he was astonished, astonished at the -reckless indifference with which the man could lie. But he was not to be -cajoled so easily; boy though he was, such oratory made no impression on -him, and he continued unmoved, even when deferentially addressed as “Mr. -Lawrence.” - -Seeing that Will made no reply, the depraved wretch pursued in the -following strain: “I should like you not to mention this joke of mine, -for already I have the name of being an incorrigible practical joker. -Besides,” subtilely, “you would not like the boys to taunt you about this -runaway.” - -“Oh, I think I saw several boys looking at me as I flew along,” Will, -replied carelessly, “and before this they must know all about the -runaway. Very likely the little boys that moved up towards the village -have spread the news, and perhaps they have told the beginning of your -joke,” artlessly. “At any rate, I must tell my father of this capital -joke, Mr. Jackson, for he likes nothing better than a good joke.” - -The farmer now began to suspect that Will was nearly as shrewd as he -himself; and seeing how useless it was to palm off his threats as a -little joke, he abruptly took a different course, and said, with marked -and significant emphasis, “See here, Mr. Lawrence, I do not wish to -frighten you; but promise not to mention this, and I will let the matter -drop.” - -Will believed that he, also, could use emphasis, and said, with what he -meant to be great significance: “You have not frightened me, Mr. Jackson, -because I knew you as soon as you came up to me. It isn’t worth while for -me to promise anything, for there is my father climbing the fence up near -the little boys, and they’re speaking to him. This way, pa,” the poor boy -shouted, with exultant and heartfelt thankfulness. - -Mr. Jackson looked hopelessly in the direction pointed out by Will, and -muttered doggedly, “Baffled by a boy! He didn’t believe in that kind of a -joke, eh! Yes, that’s where I overshot the mark.” - -How it was that Mr. Lawrence so seasonably hove in sight will be -explained further on. The writer, in common with all staunch romancers, -bears a rooted and virulent hatred to villains, and wishes to dismiss -this one as soon as possible, though he (this villain) is to appear again -in the next chapter. - -Mr. Jackson blanched when Will gave his name, but now he grew black, and -seemed to be overwhelmed with consternation. He felt too cowardly even to -run away. - -Mr. Lawrence soon joined them, and his first question was, “Will, are you -hurt?” - -“Only a very little, pa,” said Will. - -“How thankful I am for that!” Mr. Lawrence exclaimed fervently. “You must -have had a narrow escape, however.” - -“A very narrow escape,” Mr. Jackson echoed tremulously. - -Mr. Lawrence, assured of his son’s safety, now directed his attention to -the farmer. “Well, Mr. Jackson,” he said suddenly, “what seems to be the -matter?” - -This blunt question so unsettled the practical joker’s mind that -he faltered, and at last said, with much emotion: “Matter, Mr. -Lawrence?--Why, it, it was--you see--I mean, he came,--that is, the -horse--the horse--the horse, the horse, the horse, the horse----” - -Seeing that the embarrassed man was likely to continue repeating these -two words till delirium set in, or till his tongue whizzed equal to the -fly-wheel of a powerful steam-engine, Will cut him short by saying, with -pardonable spite: “Pa, he’s trying to tell you that he wants pay for the -damage that _Go It_ did.” - -To many persons this might have been unintelligible, but not so to Mr. -Lawrence. Gathering a hint from the little boys’ gibberish, at a single -glance he had taken in all that had happened, and knowing the violence of -Jackson’s temper, he could guess at what had passed between him and Will. - -“Let us have a settlement, Mr. Jackson,” he said. - -The farmer seemed to have lost his wits; he could not carry it high, as -he had done with Will. Mistaking the tone in which Mr. Lawrence spoke, -and impelled by a guilty conscience, he dropped on his knees and said -pleadingly, “Oh, don’t turn us all out; don’t turn us all out! Don’t sue -me; I’ll--I’ll pay all the rent!” - -Further comment is needless; the reader will now readily understand why -Mr. Jackson’s roughness gave place to humbleness and wheedling when he -heard Will’s name, and why he so dreaded an interview with Mr. Lawrence. - -The latter gentleman spoke kindly to the supplicant. “Come, come, -Jackson,” he said, “don’t behave like that. In this free country you -shouldn’t play the spaniel to any man. I promise that I will not bring -an action yet; I will grant you one more chance. But come to the house -to-morrow, and we can talk over the matter at leisure. Don’t explain; I -see just what has happened to my headlong boy: but so long as he is not -hurt, I am satisfied. As you hardly know him, I can, from your looks and -his, figure the scene you have had. Now, I don’t like him to be abused -by--but no; never mind that; it can be pocketed. As for the actual damage -done, I think you will admit that ten dollars will settle your claims, -and I am going to pay it to you.” - -Mr. Jackson gathered himself up, looking crestfallen and foolish, and -was so penetrated with gratitude that he refused the money, till forced -to receive it. According to Mr. Lawrence’s notions the man would now be -induced to make strenuous exertions to pay all that he owed. - -Father, son, and pony, now started for home. Having made their way out of -the gate into the road, Will found the forlorn little gamins, hungering -for even a glimpse of the frolicsome leaper, still lingering in their -second position. Poor little fellows, they had not ventured even to climb -the fence. They knew Mr. Jackson--and Mr. Jackson knew them. They cast -reverent glances at Go It, but they beheld Will as one might behold a -traveller returned in safety from a voyage to the planets. - -“I’ll bet he ketched it!” muttered a light-legged member of the group, -with a chuckle that disclosed he spoke from bitter experience. “Won’t the -rest of ’em wish they’d seen this show!” - -The horse Mr. Lawrence had ridden was tied near these urchins. Both -mounted him, and then, leading the runaway and headstrong horse, the -picturesque cavalcade set off. - -“Pa,” said Will, “I’m sorry this happened, and that you had to pay out -that money.” - -“No, Will: say nothing about that. I blame myself for letting you mount -the half-broken nag; I should have had more prudence. But tell me how it -all was, and just what Jackson said to you.” - -Will did so; and in the recital he waxed so eloquent that the rogue was -set forth in his true colors, and appeared so frightful a monster that -Will himself shivered with horror. - -Mr. Lawrence groaned, but, with great presence of mind, said instantly: -“Don’t shake so, Will, or you will lose your balance. Oh, if I had known -this sooner, I should have done differently! But it is too late now to -punish the unprincipled wretch.” - -The reader, perhaps, is curious to know how it was that Mr. Lawrence -arrived so opportunely. When too late to call him back, he saw that -Will was utterly unable to manage the pony. Not stopping to answer any -questions, he hastened to the stable, threw himself on the fastest horse, -and gave chase. Will, of course, was far in advance, but Mr. Lawrence -easily ran him down, and found him in Jackson’s field, as related. - -Mr. Jackson made his appearance at the time appointed; and although he -brought only a part of the rent due, his deportment was so humble and -respectful; his promises were so fair and encouraging; and his apologies -were so ingenious, yet in reality so hollow and ridiculous, that Mr. -Lawrence’s indignation was softened; and the wretch was heard and -dismissed with a mock and stiff politeness that galled him. - -Mr. Lawrence was very forbearing with such of his tenants as were hard -pressed; but this man’s threats to Will had provoked him extremely, and -now, as he brooded over his wrongs, he determined, as soon as the change -could be effected, to lease the farm to a more honorable man. - -When a romancer reaches the colophon of his book, he is the most virtuous -of men, the most impartial of judges, parcelling out reward and judgment -with superhuman justice. Now, according to the laws of romance, Mr. -Jackson, in cutting that field of oats, ought to be thrown from his -reaping machine, and so cruelly mangled that his most implacable foe -would melt into tears of anguish. - -But, alas! it cannot be, as unkind fate compels us to bring him once more -before the reader. - - - - -_Chapter VI._ - -STEVE’S RETALIATION. - - -The news of this, Will’s latest exploit, spread among the village boys, -and reached Steve’s ears. This worthy felt sorry for Will--so sorry that -a bright idea struck him. - -“Here’s a fine chance to show Will how much I think of him!” he mused -radiantly. “Yes, I’ll get a whole gang of us boys together, and we’ll -swoop down on the old villain, and we’ll do it! Oh! what roaring fun it -will be! I guess it’ll teach the old loon to leave honest boys alone!” - -Steve began to work with a will, and soon mustered a squad of idle and -saucy little wretches, who sported Guy Fawkes’ head-pieces, and were not -overstocked with either virtue or clothing. Nevertheless, their apparel -had at least one merit--it could be slipped on or stripped off in a trice. - -Moonlight would be too bright for his dark schemes, and he waited -impatiently for a starlight night. Three days passed with unheard of -slowness. Then Steve convoked a council of his satellites; and after -having enjoined a promise of secrecy, he laid bare his plot in all its -details, and asked if they would stand by him. - -“Guess we will!” they chorused, mad with delight; and Steve needed no -further assurance of their co-operation and fidelity. - -About seven o’clock this worthy young avenger set out, his “gang” at -his heels, and one of the heroes who had seen Will taken over Jackson’s -fence bringing up the rear. This warlike company had no drums, but -their fast-beating hearts served instead; and they marched intrepidly -onward, measuring three miles an hour. Some were burdened with sundry -stout cords, ropes and straps; others were sweating under armfuls of -pine and cedar boughs, which Steve had gathered that afternoon; one -lank stripling was poising a couple of wooden levers on his grimy palms; -Stephen himself was freighted with a clumsy engine, which he fondly -imagined was a piece of wondrous mechanism--in fact, one of the six -mechanical powers. - -Having left the village, they struck out for a pasturage about a mile -and a half to the right. Captain Stephen directed his forces to march in -single file. In vain: they were but raw levies, and in spite of all his -discipline, would persist in straggling or in huddling together. But in -good time they drew up at the seat of war, with every regiment intact, -and eager to engage the enemy. - -As the atrocities they practiced there are unworthy of the most -abandoned renegate, it would be more seemly to lay aside martial -idioms,--particularly, as we do not wish to commit ourself,--and speak of -them as Steve’s minions. - -They peered warily--perhaps, _quakingly_--to the right and left, but not -seeing any bugbears, human or otherwise, they boldly and jauntily flung -themselves over the fence of the pasture field. - -Steve advanced a few steps, then halted, laid his burden gently on the -ground, and whistled a sigh of relief. His followers threw down their -burdens; and, after having ejected a great deal of spittle--purposely -on their hands, accidently on the ground,--they raised a grating -“ye-oh-heave ’er,” that reminded the “mournful whip-poor-will” of a -rooster’s first crow. Now they were ready to go to work. - -In front of them was an old well; disused, perfectly dry, and partly -filled with rubbish. The top was covered with two layers of bulky and -heavy planks, so that the well was safe. Notwithstanding the number of -workers, it was no easy task to remove these planks; but the avenger and -his “gang” griped their handspikes, and toiled, groaned, and puffed with -a will. - -What is toil to a boy when mischief is on foot? In play there are no -difficulties that a boy cannot surmount. Ah! if he would only do his duty -as willingly and efficiently as he builds a dam, how much happier he and -others would be! - -As soon as the planks were removed, the boughs were dropped one by one, -so evenly that they formed a soft couch, only twenty feet from the mouth -of the well. - -Then Steve took up the engine he had constructed, and set it up over the -well. This engine was neither more nor less than a thick and roundish -bar of tough wood, with each end playing in the apex of a rude and frail -scalene triangle. To impart strength and dignity to this contrivance, the -triangles were connected at their base by a long and stout fork-handle; -but whether this fork-handle served to keep the triangles apart or to -hold them together, Steve did not know. A triangle was placed on each -side of the wells mouth, over which the bar and fork-handle directly -passed. Steve pinned his triangles fast to the ground, but finding them -still unsteady, he had them propped with the planks. Then he announced -that it was ready for use. The bar revolved, it is true; but somewhat -reluctantly, and, alas! it wobbled! - -We have said that Steve considered his contrivance one of the six -mechanical powers. Let us examine it further and see if he was right. It -might have been intended for the wheel and axle; but, if so, it lacked -the wheel. Or perhaps it was the pulley, with an extremely elongated -wheelless axle, the triangles taking the place of the block. - -“Now, boys,” said the deviser of this novel engine, “see what comes -from knowing science! I learnt how to make this from George’s -Philosophy. It tells you all about powerful mechanics--no, mechanics -powerful--no,--well, I guess it’s all one in meaning. Now let us go to -work.” - -With a Zulu holloa they rushed towards a couple of donkeys that were -grazing peaceably in the inclosure. - -It will not require a particularly long-headed reader to guess that these -boys were trespassing on Mr. Jackson’s domains, or that the avenger -sought to retaliate on him by means of the innocent donkeys. - -Steve endeavored to ward off the stings of conscience by telling himself -that he was avenging Will; while in reality he was indulging his love of -fun and mischief. His warty and freckle-faced followers were actuated by -the same motive. - -They surrounded the donkey nearest them, resolved to take it prisoner. -After a violent conflict and four or five barked and bruised shins,--for -the beast was agile, as well as headstrong, and resented this nocturnal -abduction,--the seizure was effected, and Stephen adroitly slipped on -a halter. While some tugged at this halter, others pushed warily and -perhaps bootlessly; still others noisily threatened; one entreated; -but, in compliance with their leaders instructions, none belabored. The -school-boy avenger did not wish the poor animal to suffer “more than was -necessary!” - -In a short time the donkey was brought close to the abandoned well. Then -the cords, straps, and ropes were picked up, and so securely bound on the -poor animal that it was utterly helpless, and at the mercy of Steve’s -youthful desperadoes. This was a hazardous attempt, considering all -things; but again, what does a properly organized boy care for danger, -when bent on mischief? - -Stephen, weltering in sweat and already smarting from blisters and -bruises, then called a halt and addressed his “accomplices” in the -following approved strain: “Well, boys, we’ve nearly done it! Oh! won’t -Mr. Jackson be mad when he finds his donkey in the well! Won’t he dance -and holler! I know it’s a scurvy trick; but then he is so scurvy a man, -it serves him just right. I guess he won’t know what to say to himself -when he sees the ass here! At any rate, it will take him all the forenoon -to get him out!” - -Gentle reader, please to observe how rich that harangue is in notes of -exclamation, and ask yourself if they were not invented as a safety-valve -for the emotions of overjoyed schoolboys and bloody-minded or weak-headed -romancers. - -While speaking, Steve had run his hands into the pockets of his most -serviceable garment. He now drew his hands out of those pockets and took -up a strong rope, one end of which he made fast to the donkey, and the -other end he passed over the bar of his engine. Then, the rest helping -him, the donkey was slowly and carefully lowered into the well. Poor -beast, how foully it was degraded! - -Then those wicked boys laughed--laughed till the tears came. - -All but Steve. He could not laugh. The core of an apple that he had eaten -seven years before rose in his throat and choked him--him! the most -uproarious and unconscionable laugher in the village! - -But the truth is, Stephen was beginning to relent. Now that the deed was -actually done, he saw his trick in a different light and conjured up all -sorts of horrors. What if a frightful thunderstorm should come on during -the night, and the donkey should be struck by lightning? What if the -sides of the well should cave in and fossilize it? Or, what if Jackson -should discover the guilty ones and transport him, as “ringleader,” to -Botany Bay? - -These and many other disquieting thoughts rose in the boys mind. He -bitterly repented of his folly, and no longer considered himself a hero. -He pitied the donkey with all his heart; and if he had not shrunk from -provoking the derision of his uncivil and hard-hearted minions, he would -have drawn it out of the well and turned it loose. - -Thus we get an insight into Stephen’s nature. His love of fun often ran -away with his better judgment; but as soon as the mischief was done, he -suffered, more than any one believed, from the agony of remorse. - -But he roused himself and said, “Now, who will slide down on the rope -and set the donkey free? Of course we mus’n’t go away and leave the poor -beast tied fast; for it might get sick and die if it couldn’t move. You -agreed to do it, Pat Murphy.” - -“I reckon we want our ropes and things back again, anyway,” growled a -practical strap owner. - -“Certainly,” Stephen assented, with a faint smile. “Well, Pat?” - -“Shure an’ I’m willin’ to stick to my bargain; only make haste, for mebby -the old feller ’ll be after prowlin’ around to look to his beasts.” - -This was enough to disquiet every member of the “gang.” One excitable -boy, a famous seer of ghosts, instantly beheld a myriad of Jacksons, -hobgoblins, and banshees, hovering dangerously near. In his terror he -uttered a cry of deprecation--which so dismayed little Pat, who was then -in the act of descending, that he lost his hold on the rope and had a -fall of several feet. But the soft boughs and the ass so broke his fall -that he received no hurt. - -Honest Pat’s mind must have been disturbed by a presentiment; for, -just at this conjuncture, Mr. Jackson, who was taking a by-path to the -village, entered the field from another direction. Being still at a -distance, he could not make out the boys clearly, but he could hear their -voices. Now, this Mr. Jackson was not famed for his discretion; and -instead of creeping upon them slyly, he hallooed at them from the place -where he stood. - -Then, for the first time, the boys caught sight of him, and a panic, -which soon became a stampede, ensued. Setting up a dismal shriek of -consternation, the whole “gang” dashed to the fence, squeezed through it, -and ingloriously fled. - -Little Pat heard the hurly-burly, and, clutching the rope, attempted to -scramble out of his narrow quarters. But, alas! no one was holding the -upper end of this rope, and it had not been made fast; consequently, it -rattled down into the well, leaving Pat a prisoner. Poor little Pat! -Believing he was deserted, he gave way to despair, yelled like a fish -peddler, and frisked about like an untutored dancer, now on the boughs, -now on the donkey, beating time to his piteous yet horrible screams -for mercy. This loosened the strap round the donkey’s snout; and an -horrisonous bray of righteous indignation smote upon the night air, -lending variety to a scene already sufficiently ludicrous. But one bray -was not enough to relieve the donkey’s pent-up emotion, and between its -bellowing groans Pat might be heard vociferating shrilly, “Tain’t me! I -ain’t done nothin’! I never did! It’s him! It’s Steve! It’s Ste-e-e-ve!” - -A swarm of outraged hornets could not have hastened the flight of Steve’s -redoubtable desperadoes more than the united exertions of Pat and the -donkey. They flew towards the village as if hounded by demons, and were -speedily out of sight and earshot. - -But where was Stephen! On the impulse of the moment he also took to -his heels; but when he reached the fence his native courage and honor -returned. He stopped, sighed profoundly, and nervously broke a splinter -off a loose rail. He did not know whether this splinter would be of any -service to him, but he mechanically carried it in his hand as he slunk -back to the well. There he sank down in a heap, and awaited Mr. Jackson’s -coming with much perturbation. However, he retained sufficient presence -of mind to pluck a tawdry feather out of his hat band, and then set the -hat fairly on his head. Wretched trickster! he did not consider how dusk -it was, or that Mr. Jackson would probably be more concerned about the -donkey than about a rattle-pated schoolboy’s headgear. - -Now, if ever, he should have indulged in laughter, for the scene was -risible in the extreme. Ah! if he had been an innocent bystander, he -would have overnoised even Pat and the donkey. Alas! he felt his guilt, -and was more inclined to cry than to laugh. - -“Oh,” he groaned, “why did I mix myself with such a pack of nasty little -cowards? I knew all the time that I had no business to meddle with that -ass. Ass?--why, I’ve made an ass of myself! Where will it all end, and -what will Mr. Jackson say to me or do with me?--Well,” with a sigh of -relief, “there’s one good thing: the ass will be let loose again!” - -Stephen’s gloomy surmises were cut short by Jackson himself. “What does -all this mean, you scoundrel?” he roared. “What are you doing here? Where -are those boys? have they all gone and left you?” - -At that instant another hideous bray, followed by a moan of mortal -terror, reverberated in the well, and the new-comer turned and looked in. -A boisterous laugh burst from his lips when he discerned the occupants of -the well. “Oh! this is rich!” he exclaimed, so jubilantly that Stephen -was stupified with amazement. - -Encouraged by Mr. Jackson’s merriment, timorous Pat began with redoubled -energy. “It’s him! I hain’t done nothin’; so don’t tetch me, Mr. -Jackson, for I ain’t had nothin’ to do with it. Lemme go, _please_!” - -Turning to Stephen, Jackson again demanded an explanation. Stephen did -not give a “succinct account of the whole proceeding;” but Jackson -gathered from his faltering confession that a trick lay at the bottom of -the affair. - -“Yes, I understand it all,” Jackson replied; “but I don’t see your -motive. Well, little boy, I might put you to considerable inconvenience; -but it’s so capital a joke--so deep, so surprising, so silly--that I will -let you off. The grudge I owe Lawrence is paid now; paid in full.” - -This last expression was probably not intended for Steve’s ears; but he -overheard it, and asked, with a start, “What about Mr. Lawrence, sir?” - -“‘Lawrence,’ eh? Nothing about him; except that _he_ must settle with -you. That’s one reason why I’m letting you off. Yes, just take your bill -and your story to him; for its his place to deal with you.” - -“I--I don’t know what you mean,” Steve made answer, becoming more and -more perplexed. - -“I see that we don’t understand each other very well. _I_ don’t know -_why_ you put his donkey into this well; and _you_ don’t know--well, -what? You seem puzzled about something; but when I refer the matter to -Mr. Lawrence, I think you’ll find that he will understand it well enough -to send for a magistrate. Then come a lawsuit and all sorts of good -things.” - -When a youthful offender or an ignorant person was the object of his -resentment, this man loved to enlarge on the terrors of the law; but when -he himself was the culprit, he shrank from the bare mention of the word. - -“_His_ donkey, did you say?” Steve said, utterly confounded. “Oh! please -to tell me what you mean!” - -“I mean what I’m talking about. You know, of course, the donkey in that -well belongs to Mr. Lawrence; you know, of course, he pastures both -donkeys in this field, which is leased to me. He will show you that -you can’t make a plaything of his donkeys, and to-morrow you will be -wanted. If this maltreated beast belonged to me, I would have ample -satisfaction!” savagely. - -“I see your mates have left you,” he continued. “Well, I hope you will -enjoy yourself here with the donkeys. I should like to stop and see -the sport; but I can’t, I must go on. You had better haul the donkey -out--if you can. Of course, _I’ve_ no time to help you; and it’s no -concern of mine, anyway; so, good night! Hurrah! your rope is out of your -reach! This is an interesting case indeed! Well, you and your little -friend there can amuse yourselves by endeavoring to adjust matters. You -won’t be entirely alone; for the quadrupeds grazing in this field will -occasionally come and gape at you. The moon will soon be up; appeal to -it!” - -Then, with a mocking bow, he turned on his heel and made off, leaving -Stephen alone with his troubles. - -And this was the retaliation which Steve had planned so craftily! How -wretchedly his scheme had failed! Instead of imprisoning Jackson’s -donkey, he had imprisoned that of his friend Mr. Lawrence. Truly, here -was a case that called for many interjections--for more, in fact, than -hapless Steve could muster. - -And he had been detected in the very act. What would be the consequences? -Would those dark threats of Jackson’s be put into execution? What -penalties might the law inflict on him? What did the LAW say about -feloniously dumping another man’s donkey into a disused well, anyway? -Alas! Steve did not know. - -But, oh! comforting thought! Jackson plainly did not suspect anybody -of playing a trick on _him_. And it was well for Stephen that it was -so, as a suspicion of the truth would have stirred up the waspish old -blusterer’s fury. - -“O dear!” groaned Steve, “I wish I was at home! I wish I hadn’t done it! -I wish--O dear! Well, I will never have anything more to do with those -mean sneaks. Why couldn’t they have stuck by me? Now they’ll go and -spread it all over, and what will people think of me? What will become of -me? Well, I shall be laughed at for a month, that’s very certain.” - -This doleful soliloquy manifests that Stephen was but a boy, and -that he was but human. A man’s great care is (or should be) to guard -his reputation: a boy’s great care is to keep from becoming a -laughing-stock. This is a bug-bear which haunts him (the boy) from the -day when masculine apparel is first girded on him, and which prompts him -to do many things that, to his elders, are foolish and incomprehensible. -It is for this reason that a well-organized boy, however learned he may -be, prefers to use simple words of Anglo-Saxon origin, when he knows he -could make his meaning clearer by using Latin polysyllables. - -But Steve’s disquieting speculations were interrupted by Pat, who -whispered warily, “Is he gone?” - -Now, Steve did not know that this is a polite expression, and he answered -snappishly, “Yes, he _has_ gone.” - -This was good news to little Pat. Forgetting that he had just been -accusing Stephen to Mr. Jackson, he began beseechingly: “Lemme out, -Steve! Lemme out, that’s a good boy. I al’ays knowed you was a good boy, -Steve, didn’t I? Lemme out now, and I’ll do anythin’ fur you.” - -This reminded Stephen of the labor that lay before him. How was he to get -hold of the rope? The one could not climb up the sides of the well; the -other could not climb down; all the cords were bound on the ass. - -However, Stephen searched his pockets carefully, and lighted on a new -and strong fish-line, with a fish-hook affixed. The fish-line was -not long enough to reach down to Pat; but by noosing the end to one -of the handspikes that difficulty was removed. There was now direct -communication between the two boys. Pat was rather fidgety when he saw -the fish-hook dangling under his nose, but he caught it fast to the rope, -which Stephen carefully and fearfully drew up. - -If that fish line had parted, those boys and the writer would have been -placed in a sorry plight. - -The rope was no sooner made fast than Pat scrambled up it, caught up his -shabby coat, and exercised his limbs of locomotion so nimbly that he was -nearly out of sight before Steve could recover from his amazement. This -was a whimsical way of manifesting gratitude! - -“How he scampers!” Steve muttered. “What a pack of little wretches, and -what a mean man Jackson is! I wanted to slide down into the well myself; -and those boys know I agreed to let Pat do it on purpose to please him. -Well, I’ve done with ragamuffins!--I say,” he bellowed to the nimble -runaway, “you needn’t run so fast; _I_ don’t want you: you’re no good, -anyway.” - -Pat knew that Stephen longed for his help; he knew that a boy, when left -in the lurch, speaks somewhat as Stephen had spoken, and yet Pat hurried -on. - -Poor Pat! he was not aware that his unique and valued button ring, the -fruit of several hours’ toil with boiling water, a broken-bladed knife, -and a spoilt file, had been fractured in the well. Unconscious of his -loss, he clapped his hands over his mouth, and bleated playfully and -hideously. - -Stephen now racked his brains to hit upon some feasible plan of taking -the donkey out of the well. Suddenly a happy thought struck him. His eyes -sparkled with joy. “My stars!” he exclaimed, “I see the very way to do -it! I can manage it after all.” - -Then he mused on Jackson’s behavior, and another thought occurred to him. -“I suppose he believed I couldn’t get either of ’em out of the well. Yes, -of course he did; and he thought I should have to go to the village for -help. And then I wonder if he’d have set the magistrate and folks after -me! Ten to one. Well, I can beat ’em all, and keep out of trouble, too.” - -Yes, that was the point. If he had been necessitated to seek help, he -would have been taught a wholesome lesson; but when his own precocity -suggested a way out of the difficulty, he was only hardened in his -mischievousness, and he admired his great cleverness. - -Without further deliberation the deserted and frustrated avenger slid -down the rope, took the halter and a few straps off the donkey, coiled -them around his own neck, and then clambered up. - -This was a foolhardy thing for him to do; for if the fastenings of the -rope had given way, he and the donkey world have been left to their own -resources. But the generality of boys delight in doing such things. With -a careless “I’ll risk it,” they rush headlong into danger, day after day. - -Then Steve set about carrying his plans into effect. He sidled up to the -other donkey and chased it over the pasturage till the moon rose. This -was weary work for him, but at length he caught the donkey, slipped the -halter over its head, and led--or rather coaxed--it up to the well. - -“Well, old fellow,” he said, addressing his first captive, “I didn’t make -any preparations to haul you out, but so much the better. Now, keep your -mouth shut, and don’t be afraid, and you’ll be kicking around this field -before no time. Now, heave away, boys! Ho! Heave ’er!” - -He then pitched on the two lightest planks, exerted all his remaining -strength, and placed them so as to form a floor or platform, extending -from the transverse bars of his engine to the curb of the well. Thus half -the well’s mouth was covered. - -Next, the donkey last caught was hitched to the rope, and by dint of -entreaty, induced to draw its yoke-fellow out of the gloomy prison. - -“Saved!” cried Stephen, in tragic accents, as he turned both donkeys -loose. “Saved! And I have saved you!” - -And then he fell to turning summersets, chuckling, and disporting himself -like a noodle. “_Oh! this is fun!_” he said. - -A heavy fall brought the boy to his senses; and without more ado he -gathered up his belongings and began to whistle “Yankee Doodle,” as only -a boy whose conscience is tranquillized can whistle it. - -The would-be avenger had expended so much of his strength that he was not -in a condition to attempt to replace the rest of the planks, or to carry -home his beloved pulley. - -“Mr. Jackson may arrange those planks himself,” he muttered. “As for the -pulley--well,” with a last fond backward glance, “I suppose he’ll knock -it up into kindling-wood.” - -It was late when Stephen reached home that night. Notwithstanding his -proneness to be mischievous and to play monkey tricks, he was free from -deceit and he was not deficient in moral courage. As soon as he and his -mother were alone, he made a clean breast of it, then walked off to bed, -with tears in his eyes, but loving his mother better than ever. - -Although Mr. Jackson, while returning through the field that night, -should have precipitated himself into the half-open well, there to perish -miserably, yet he did not. The writer does not thirst for the blood of -his villains; but--lest he should be accounted utterly devoid of common -sense--the following statement is offered, by way of consolation, for the -punctilious readers perusal:-- - -Whilst replacing the planks, which were permeated with humidity, he -contracted a catarrhal cold, which did not yield to the apothecary’s -patent medicines till the next spring. - -When Mr. Lawrence heard the particulars of Stephen’s prank, and the -“motive,” he laughed heartily. - -Of course the peace-officers did not gain or lose by the affair; and -Steve observed oracularly, “I knew he was only fooling. He didn’t scare -me a bit!” - -It is not necessary to waste time in tracing Jackson’s career further--in -fact, as he never annoyed our heroes again, he may as well be formally -thrown overboard now. - -It was hoped that this experience would have a wholesome and lasting -effect on Stephen. Alas, no! Stephen Goodfellow was one of the many -irrepressible incorrigibles that flourish in this country. - - - - -_Chapter VII._ - -THE YOUNG MORALIST.--A CLEVER SCHEME. - - -As the school was now closed for “summer holidays,” the boys were free to -do whatever they pleased. - -One bright forenoon the heroic six, full of merry jokes, set out on a -stroll to the woods. Charles and Will led the way, and _why_ they made -for the woods will be seen further on. - -“Now, boys,” said Charley, “wouldn’t it be fun if we should have a -real adventure to-day? something romantic; something worth while--eh, -Marmaduke?” - -Marmaduke’s eyes flashed like a persecuted hero’s whose case appears -hopeless. However, he did nothing desperate, he simply said, “Boys, some -day or another we shall light on something romantic--something awful! -I’ve always felt it. Then we will pry into the mystery until we unravel -it.” - -Will, Charles, and Stephen, furtively exchanged glances. If their designs -should succeed, Marmaduke would have a mystery to pry into sooner than he -bargained for. - -Just as they entered the woods they heard voices; and on looking about -they caught sight of three little boys sitting astride of a decayed log. -One seemed to have a paper of raisins, from which he was helping himself -and the other two. - -“Hush!” Charley whispered. “They haven’t seen us yet; so hide behind the -bushes, and I’ll play a pretty trick on them.” - -Without the least hesitation, without looking to see whether they were -sitting on grass or thorns, they crouched down. Charley “knew himself,” -and the boys obeyed him promptly. - -Seeing that they were all concealed, he advanced boldly towards the three -small boys. - -“Hollo, Tim!” he exclaimed. “What have you got there?” - -“Raisins,” Tim answered laconically. - -“Where did you get them?” was the next question. - -“Maw sent me fur ’em.” - -“Oh, I thought so. Now I can go to work,” Charley muttered, in a -theatrical “aside.” - -“What do you want of me, and what are you a-saying to yourself?” demanded -Tim, becoming questioner in his turn. - -“I’ll give you a whistle for one of them, Tim,” Charley said, so eagerly -that the boys in hiding wondered. Why should such a boy as Charley -wish to purchase a single raisin? Was _this_ a mystery? It seemed so -mysterious that they pricked up their ears, and impatiently waited for -further developments. - -Tim’s thoughts are unknown. He replied indifferently, “Well, if your -whistle’s a good one, I guess I don’t mind; but I’ve give these here boys -so many raisins that Maw’ll think that there new store-keeper cheats -worse’n the old ones. Let’s see yer whistle, anyway.” - -Charles turned his back to Tim, and searched his pockets for the whistle, -a scrap of paper, and a forlorn lead pencil that had once done duty as -the bullet of a popgun. Having found these articles, he scrawled a few -words on the scrap of paper. - -“Can’t you find the whistle?” Tim inquired unsuspectingly. - -“I’m coming,” was the answer. - -Then the gaping ambushed five saw him slip the battered pencil into his -pocket, take the paper in one hand and the whistle in the other, and step -briskly up to Tim. - -Tim reached out the bag, and Charley ran his hand which secreted the -paper far into it. Then he drew out his hand--empty. - -“No, Tim,” he said, “I think you have given away enough already. But -here’s the whistle, all the same. Now, run home, like a good boy.” - -Young Tim tried his whistle somewhat doubtfully, for he was at a loss to -know why it should be given to him for nothing. Big boys did not make a -practice of throwing away good whistles on him, unless they looked for -some return. Generosity so lavish astounded him. - -But the first toot assured him of the soundness of the gift; a smile of -pleasure flitted over his grimy face; and he exclaimed joyously, “Man! -It’s bully, ain’t it?” - -“Oh, it’s a good one,” Charley averred. - -“I--I was afraid p’r’aps it was busted,” Tim acknowledged. - -Then young Tim rose to his feet and wended his way homeward, piping -melodiously on his whistle, unconscious of the bomb-shell hidden in the -bag; while hard behind him, licking their daubed lips as they went, -trotted the two parasitical boys who had been junketing on his mother’s -raisins. - -Charley, grinning and chuckling, hurried back to his comrades. - -“I hope I’ve taught that thieving little sneak-thief a lesson he will -remember,” he said, with a smile intended to be exceedingly moral. - -“Why, what did you do? What on earth’s the matter? Tell us all about it,” -cried a chorus of voices; “we could see something was up, but we didn’t -know what.” - -“Well, boys,” Charles began, “I have often caught that rascal feeding -little boys, and big ones, too, from parcels of raisins, sugar, and other -things; and I thought I would make him smart for it some day. So to-day, -when I saw him at it again, I thought of writing something on a scrap of -paper, and getting a chance to slip it into his bag. You saw me do that, -perhaps. What I wrote was, ‘O, mother! please to forgive me! I stole your -raisins and things, but I won’t do it no more.’ When his mother empties -out the raisins, she will find that, and it will be enough for her. Then -she’ll put two and two together, and then, most likely, she’ll put Tim -and his skate-straps together. That is all, boys.” - -“Good for you, Buffoon!” exclaimed Stephen, to whom this knavish trick -was highly amusing. “Mr. Tim will ‘pay dear for his whistle’ this -time--unless your confession should slip out of the bag!” - -“No, I put it down nearly to the bottom,” Charley replied. “He won’t be -likely to open his bag again, either, for he has eaten and given away -about half of the raisins.” - -“I say, boys,” said Stephen, “isn’t that what they call _philanthropy_?” - -“What?” Charles asked eagerly. - -“Teaching a boy that it’s wicked to steal.” - -“No; it’s the vice of perfidy!” George replied, so promptly that a keen -observer would have said, “This boy is impelled by envy; he wishes he had -been guilty of the same vice.” - -But George was in the right; Charley’s trick was inhumanly treacherous. - -“Did you intend to take one of his raisins?” Jim faltered, a wolfish look -in his eyes. - -Charles’ lips curled with disdain; his nostrils dilated; virtuous -indignation strove for utterance. But he knew that he could not look -so injured that the boy would hang his head in shame; so he resolved to -annihilate him by a single word. To gain time to hit on an expression -sufficiently awful, he demanded threateningly: - -“What do you mean, Sir?” - -Jim’s nerves were always weak, and this jeering question so unstrung -them that he spoke the first words that occurred to him. (By the way, -the phrase was a favorite one of his, one that he used on all occasions; -and according to the tone in which he said it, it implied either doubt, -indifference, petulance, fear, or _profanity_!) - -“I don’t know, I’m sure,” is what he said. - -“You hadn’t better!” Stephen thundered with lowering brow. - -The reason why Steve espoused Charley’s cause so readily was because the -boys still teased him about the donkey; and he rejoiced to find that -another--that other his schoolfellow Charles--could be guilty of the -misdemeanor of playing tricks. Truly, the abusive adage, “Misery loves -company,” is right. - -“It is bad enough for the store-keeper to handle the poor woman’s -raisins; and Charley’s fingers don’t look so clean as a store-keeper’s, -even;” George observed tauntingly. - -“I guess Charley’s fingers are cleaner than Tim’s” retorted Stephen, -always eager to play the part of champion to some aggrieved wight, -especially so now. - -But Charles perceived that his joke was not appreciated as it should -have been; and he turned beseechingly to Will, his firm upholder in all -things. “Will,” he said, “what do _you_ think about it? Did I do wrong?” - -Thus appealed to, Will made answer: “Capital joke, Charley; but you have -begun your career as a reformer rather early in life.” - -This did not satisfy Charley, and he took to his last expedient. - -When a renowned general becomes entangled in a snare which he himself -has spread; when he is caricatured and lampooned in all the newspapers, -and without a friend in all the world, he makes an impassioned and -well-punctuated declamation in his defence, in which he sums up -the difficulties that lay in his way so eloquently; sets forth the -rightfulness of his cause so manfully; represents the disinterestedness -of his actions so carefully; discourses on the purity of his designs -so volubly; harrows up the feelings of the audience, and the disguised -editors so subtly; exposes the fallacies under which his defamers labor -so jocosely; and reiterates his asservations so persistingly, that all -except the most malevolent and perverse are brought to coincide with his -views. - -Charles was now “on his defence.” - -“‘The end justifies the means,’ you know. Now,--” - -“That’s what the Jesuits profess, and they are--” George interrupted. -But, not knowing exactly what the Jesuits are, he stopped short, and -Charley went on without further interruption. - -“Now, that Tim was a rascal, but this will reclaim him. He has been -cheating his mother on a small scale for more than a year. She has sent -him to all the different stores for her groceries, but with the same -results. He is the only one she has to send, and he has a chance to -steal at his leisure. Now, if I had informed her that her son does the -cheating, what would have become of me? Ten to one, she would have called -me a sneaking talebearer, and told me to march off home and get my father -to belabor me. As it is, _Tim_ will probably get the drubbing. There now, -wasn’t my ‘confession’ plan just the thing? Of course it was. You boys -must be blind, or crazy, or silly.” - -No oratory here, gentle reader. But the speaker was only a boy; if he had -been older and more experienced, he would not have omitted to remark, -incidentally, that he had acted “on the impulse of the moment.” - -However, his reasoning, especially the latter part of it, was conclusive. -“Quite right;” said all the boys. Then, as time is _very_ precious to a -schoolboy during the holidays, Stephen added, “Now let us go on; we’ve -fooled away too much time doing nothing.” - -Will and Charles taking the lead, the explorers advanced deeper into the -woods; and taking an obscure pathway, soon found themselves in a quarter -scarcely known to some of the boys. Heaps of brush-wood blocked up the -way, making their progress very slow. But this only exhilarated their -adventurous spirit; and they tore through the brush with smiling contempt -for sundry bruises and scratches. - -All except George, whose mind was still exercised about Charley’s “vice,” -and who took no interest in squeezing through underwood, and stumbling -over heaps of loose and rough brush-wood. - -“Look here, boys,” he said, “why should we overstrain our limbs and -muscles here, when a little way to the north there is a capital spot to -rest? We can learn nothing here, and by floundering about like top-heavy -goblins we shall improve neither our minds, nor our morals, nor our -garments. At any rate, _I_ am going back; _I_ am not going to make an -Amazon of myself.” - -Sooner or later, the most inattentive of readers will be struck with -admiration at the artifice which Charles displays in working on the -feelings of his comrades. - -In this instance, though George had actually turned back, he paused -irresolute on hearing Charles exclaim sarcastically, “George, I’m afraid -you will never become an explorer. Why, if you only knew it, we are -penetrating a jungle now! Think of that! _We_ in a jungle!” - -Though coaxing would not have influenced the sage, this happy expression -did. He cast a sweeping glance in search of Charley’s “jungle,” and then -went on with the others. - -Charles was satisfied, for he knew that however much the boy might -grumble, he would not turn back again. - -A certain word George had spoken, excited Steve’s curiosity. False -pride never restrained Stephen from asking for information, and he said -eagerly, “George, what’s a namazon?” - -George’s smiling face discovered that the right cord had been struck -at last, and, always willing to enlighten the ignorant, he answered -benignly, “Steve, an Amazon is a West African woman warrior, who -fights instead of men. And she fights with a vengeance--harder than a -sea-serpent that I read about the other day. Why, she wears a sword -called a razor, and it’s so strong and heavy that she can chop off an -elephant’s head at one blow with it!--At least” truth obliged him to add, -“I guess she could, if she chose. And she will scale a rampart of briers -and thorns,--no, _brambles_ the book said,--of brambles, all in her bare -feet, and come back all covered with blood and chunks of bramble, but -with her arms full of skulls!” - -Steve’s look of horror only encouraged George to make greater exertions. -But he was forced to pause for want of breath, and his hearer inquired in -alarm, “Where do they get the skulls? Do they kill folks for them?” - -Now, it was very inconsiderate, very disrespectful, very _wrong_ in -Stephen to put such a question. George was wholly unprepared for -it; and it rather befogged his loquacity. After a doubtful pause, -he began blunderingly: “Why, as I told you, they scale a rampart of -bri--_brambles_,--sixty feet high, sometimes--and come off with those -skulls. I--I believe they are put there beforehand; and the feat is -to pounce on them.--I mean, the feat is to scramble over the brambles -barefooted. It is a valiant achievement!” - -Then a bright idea occurred to him, and he continued impetuously, “Why, -Steve, you must be crazy, crazy as an organ-grinder! You don’t know what -a skull is; you don’t know a skull from a dead-head. Why, I’m astonished -at you!” - -“Oh, of course. I see what you mean now; yes, of course they do;” Stephen -assented with alacrity. - -“I might lend you my book about all these things,” George graciously -observed. - -“Oh, thank you!” said Stephen with sparkling eyes. - -Meanwhile, the heroes had been pressing deeper and deeper into the -“jungle,” and would soon be at their journey’s end. But at this critical -juncture the sage’s evil genius again preyed upon his spirits, and he -muttered with filial concern: “A boy’s first duty ought to be to take -care of his clothes, and--” - -“But it never is!” Steve broke in. - -“--and here we are destroying ours!” the sage continued, disregarding -Steve’s impertinent interruption. - -“Never mind the ‘garments,’ George,” Charles replied. “Your old coat -looks as if it might survive the frolics of a hurricane; so, ‘banish care -and grim despair,’ as the second page of our new copy-book says.” - -This was indiscreet in Charles. The aggrieved George was but a boy, and, -naturally, he was angered. “Look here,” he exclaimed, “what is your -object in dragging us through this dismal place? Where are we going? If -you should lead the way to a python’s lair, should I be bound to tag -blindly after you?” - -This reasoning was forcible, and for a schoolboy, poetical. Will--knowing -that their scheme would be disconcerted if George should turn back, and -fearing that he would--bounded forward a little way, and then flung -himself plump into a certain pile of brush. - -“Oh!” he screamed. “Come here! Boys, hurry! Something rattles all around -under me!” - -The others quickly urged their way towards him, some in real, some in -pretended alarm. - -George now proved himself a hero. The vigour of his intellect overawed -the others, and they made way for him respectfully. At length he was -about to derive some advantage from the ponderous tomes whose pages his -grimy thumbs had soiled so often. - -“Yes,” he said, “I know just what you heard. Don’t be excited, Will; keep -very cool. _It’s a rattlesnake!_ The great naturalist says they skulk -around brush-heaps and tangled bushes, ready to pounce on their prey. -I know, for I’ve read all about it; and luckily, I am prepared for the -worst. Now, where are you bitten, and I’ll cauterize it.” - -And the speaker busied himself by stripping his pockets of their -treasures, which he dropped on the ground at random. - -Jim, however, did not view the matter so philosophically. At the bare -mention of the word _rattlesnake_, he turned and tore wildly through -the “jungle,” crying piteously: “Oh! I’ve got the chills! I’ve got the -chills! the chills! the chills! awful chills!” - - - - -_Chapter VIII._ - -GEORGE COMES OUT AHEAD. - - -Meanwhile, Will stepped out of the pile of brushwood and said, somewhat -foolishly, “Now, George, don’t be foolish; you know well enough there are -no rattle-snakes in this part of the country. Put up your instruments of -cauterization, and let us all take a squint under these ‘brambles.’” - -Poor George looked so crestfallen that Will almost relented. “Didn’t you -get bitten?” the former asked blankly. - -“What could bite me, George!” Will asked mildly. - -“Well, _I_ don’t know what,” George said savagely, “But Charles -Goodfellow declares this is a jungle; and we all know, I hope, that -poisonous lizards, and reptiles, and centipedes, and tarantulas, and -all hideous creatures, live in just such a place as this--I mean in -jungles. So, _what_ disturbed you in that brush-heap! Answer that -question!--Botheration!” he continued furiously, “here you’ve led me into -this horrible place, made fun of me, and contradicted me--you, who have -no practical knowledge. And now, to cap it all, I’ve lost my jack-knife, -the best jack-knife in these regions, and I got it only yesterday!” - -Poor George! One thing after another had happened to irritate him, and he -was now in a savage mood. In fact, he was really angry, and the boys had -never seen him angry before. - -Charles felt a pang in the region of his heart, and Stephen was very -uneasy. - -“Never mind George,” Will said soothingly. “I’ll help you to look for -your knife as soon as we see what is under the brush.” - -He stooped over the brush-heap, groping, and then said with awe, as -_he_ supposed: “Boys, here are bones! It was bones that rattled under -me!--George,” conciliatingly, “what does that mean?” - -“Well, I don’t care what it means. My knife is worth more than all -the bones you can find in a whole summer; and I intend to look for -it in spite of everything. You boys may squabble over those bones -till--till--any time you choose.” - -Charley was dismayed. George was too sullen to catch at the bait, and -their little scheme seemed likely to end ingloriously. Was it for this -that they had toiled and plotted? - -But Marmaduke, who had hitherto held his tongue, now came to the front, -saying eagerly, “Bones! Bones! Let me see!” - -He rummaged among the branches, and while Will, Charles, and Stephen, -crowded around him, George looked on “askance.” - -“O-o-h!” gasped Marmaduke, “what a horrible discovery we have made! -Bones! Bones of a mortal! Boys,” with emotion, “SOME ONE WAS FOULLY -MURDERED HERE.” - -“O-o-h!” echoed all the boys, as in duty bound. - -But Steve gave a horrible chuckle, and whispered to Charles, “It works -already with _him_; and,” pointing his elbow at George, “_he’ll_ come -around.” - -The pain in Charley’s heart was not very deep-seated, and it now made -room for exultation. The searcher was left to his own musings, and the -rest were absorbed in the discovery. - -Marmaduke paused a moment, to realize the awfulness of the word _murder_; -then, snatching up the branches, he nervously tossed them out of the way. - -A little heap of white substances was disclosed which--to Marmaduke’s -heated imagination--were all that remained of a human skeleton. - -Now, the writer has so much respect for the feelings of his readers that -he herewith warns them, in all honesty, that what is immediately to -follow, borders upon the grisly; and that consequently it would be well -for the queasy reader of fashionable fiction to skip the rest of this -chapter and all of chapter the twelfth. - -Marmaduke was now in his element; he felt somewhat as a philosopher does -when a new theory in science bursts upon him; he was happy. All boyish -bashfulness forsook him, and he began rapturously:-- - -“Yes, boys, we have made a great, an _appalling_, discovery! We have -certainly stumbled on a dreadful mystery! It now remains for us to solve -this great problem, and gain immortal renown. In the near future, I see -us sitting in the courts of law, with the ferret-eyed reporters; the grim -lawyers; the shrill-voiced foreman keeping order among the honest and -eager jury; the gaping multitude; the venerable judge; and the quaking -murderer, found at last, and his crime unearthed and fastened on him by -_us_. Then the grand old judge, in solemn tones, will turn to us and say, -“You are now called upon to give your conclusive evidence, and charge the -crime--long hidden, but brought to light at last--upon the trembling, -cringing wretch--this murderer!” Oh! what a proud day it will be for us! -Now, boys, an unpleasant duty lies before us, and if any of you wish to -withdraw, do so at once. As for me, I will not drop the matter till the -mystery is cleared up, and the murderer gibbeted. But who ever wishes to -take a bold part with me, must continue in it till justice is satisfied. -Then together we shall reap the fruits of our zeal.” - -This neat little speech amply repaid the boys for all the perils they -had encountered in penetrating into Charley’s jungle. Their delight is -beyond our description. Charley, Will, and Steve, exchanged winks most -recklessly. - -Marmaduke, however, paid no attention to them, but drew a scrap of paper -and a lead-pencil, which he always carried, from his pocket. - -“What are you going to do now?” Steve queried of the romance-stricken boy. - -“I am going to make a memorandum of this affair,” was the answer. - -“Where is Jim?” Will asked, thinking that youth would enjoy the scene. - -“Oh,” said Steve, “his old and convenient disorder seized him when George -spoke of rattle-snakes, and he skedaddled.” - -“Yes,” supplemented George, who was recovering his temper, “there is a -good deal of philosophy in his complaint; for, like most things cold, it -vanishes away when heat is applied; and, to generate heat, Jim sets out -on a run.” - -“Good for you!” Charley said promptly, hoping to induce the boy to -examine and pass an opinion on the bones. - -But George still felt too sore--perhaps, too obstinate--to yield. - -“Look here, Marmaduke,” he said, “how are you going to prove that -somebody was _murdered_ here? Perhaps he was gobbled up by an -unprincipled and broken-down quadruped--say, a shipwrecked gorilla.” - -“Yes,” chimed in Steve, “perhaps a devouring monster of a famished -sea-cow fell on him, and gnawed him, and wallowed him around, and -extinguished him!” - -Marmaduke was now being jeered in his turn. Considering that he was only -a boy, he put up with their banter with stoical unconcernedness; but -his quivering lips and humid eyes betrayed that he felt it, and turning -to Will, he said, “In such a case as this, you always find something -to discover the guilty one,--a pet dog’s collar, a monogrammed metal -tooth-pick, an old card case, a seal-ring, a gold watch-key, a book-mark, -a--a--or something else.” - -“Why, have you found anything?” Steve asked quickly. - -No answer. Silence, in this instance, was peculiarly golden; more, it was -sufficient. - -“Then how do you know, and how are you going to prove it was murder?” - -Then Marmaduke’s indignation was roused, and he scowled upon Stephen -so malignantly that this worthy quailed, unable to bear up under that -“steady gaze of calm contempt.” - -Turning to Will and Charles, the persecuted boy thus explained himself: -“Not long ago, I read in a story how an awful murder was cleared up, -simply because a cast-off wig, that had fallen into the murderer’s pocket -by accident, and belonged to nobody in particular, fell out again at -the fatal moment, and proved the whole crime. You boys might read about -such things from to-day till your hair turns gray; and you would find -that some little trinket, some trifle, turns the evidence one way or the -other, and decides the verdict. Why, where would the romance of romances -be, if it wasn’t so?” excitedly. “I mean to hunt for that lost trinket -when I get ready; it has been here all this time, and it isn’t going to -disappear forever now.” - -“How long has it been here?” asked George, laying stress on the word -_how_. - -“When we stumbled on this mystery,” pursued Marmaduke, too much absorbed -to regard George’s incivilities, “it was about ten o’clock.” - -Having made a note of this, he went on, “the scene was a tangled glade in -a thick jungle.” - -Another note. - -“Fit scene for such a tragedy!” Charles commented. - -“The bones were hidden under brush-wood, which _I_ removed,” and again -his pencil was heard to scribble a note. - -We say, _scribble_. The boy intended to “polish” his notes at a more -convenient season. - -“I say,” interrupted Stephen, “it isn’t _your_ place to take all these -notes; you ought to inform a constable, or, a bailiff,--or, better still, -a detective!” - -Marmaduke scowled at him again, but held his peace. - -“Oh, I see,” continued Stephen, bent on teasing the poor boy; “you’ll -hand your notes over to some detective, so that he’ll see how clever you -are.” - -Then Marmaduke spoke. “Boys,” he said, “I’m astonished at your levity and -indifference in such a case as this.” - -With that, he laid down his pencil and paper, and again examined the -bones, handling them with reverence, and muttering what he supposed to be -their names. - -For some time a fierce conflict had been raging in George’s -mind--curiosity battling with wounded vanity. Which would triumph? - -While Marmaduke mumbled, George took mental notes. Soon a broad grin -spread over the latter’s face, and he said, “Look here, boys; Marmaduke -has named five thigh-bones, and thirty-one ribs! I know, for I’ve kept -count. Now, the skeleton of a common man has no business with so many -thighs and ribs; and Marmaduke isn’t supposed to know the name of a bone -as soon as he sees it. Now, I’ve studied into the matter, and I ought to -know something about it. I’m just going to see them for myself.” - -Curiosity had triumphed! - -This disconcerted poor Marmaduke. He made room for George, and sat down -beside Charles. A look of dismay appeared in his face, and he pondered -deeply. “Boys,” he said, “did you ever hear that anybody was ever -murdered in this neighborhood?” - -“Never!” shouted all four in a breath. - -“I don’t care; it _is_ a skeleton!” doggedly. “I know as much about it -as _he_ does,” glaring at George, “and I will stick to it, it was a -skeleton.” - -“Whatever it _was_ it’s not a skeleton _now_!” roared George. - -Do not take alarm, gentle reader: this history is not the register of any -squabbles among savants: the writer is too tender-hearted to inflict such -a punishment on you. - -George resumed: “That is a foolish conclusion; for there are no human -bones here at all! Not a skull, nor a radius, nor a--, a--” - -At this point Charley interrupted the osteologist by saying, “George, -don’t tell off the parts of a skeleton with such disgusting gusto; have a -little respect, even for bones.” - -“Well, I will;” George assented--the more willingly because he found -himself less versed in the matter than he had imagined. “But it was very -foolish to think of murder. Boys, do you want to know what it is? _I_ -know; _I’ve_ solved your mystery: _I’ll_ reap all the glory!” he cried, -so excited that he lost control of his voice. - -“Well, what is it?” Will asked sharply, perhaps afraid that George had -detected the fraud. - -Groundless fear; George was quite as credulous as Marmaduke. - -Wild with excitement, his voice rang out loud and discordant. He shouted, -at the top of his voice, “Boys, _it’s a fossil_!” - -“A _what_?” Charley demanded. - -“A _fossil_! An _extinct animal_! A _mastodon_! A _gyasticütûs_! (If -this word is new to the reader, let him raise his voice and pronounce -it according to the accents.) Yes; here is a field for a geologist or -naturalist; not for a humdrum, cigar-puffing, bejewelled detective!” - -And the Sage’s form dilated with pride and complacency. His day had come. -He could have it all his own way now; for what did the others know about -geology? - -Poor George! his imagination was as powerful as Marmaduke’s; but he could -not equal him in oratory. - -As for the boys, they were thunder-struck; this exceeded their utmost -expectations. - -Steve was the first to speak. “Don’t yell so loudly, George; there are no -geologists near to hear you;” he said. - -Then again the boys, Marmaduke excepted, huddled around the bones, and -expressed unqualified astonishment. - -“What will you do about it, George?” Will inquired. - -“Travel them around the country for a show;” Marmaduke sneered. - -But George was too much elated to regard such gross indignities. Let -the envious little simpleton rave; hadn’t he read that every great man -has his enemies and detractors? He would ignore the mean wretch and his -insulting words. - -But for all his philosophy, the words did rankle in his breast. - -“Well, what will you do?” Will inquired again. - -“Ship them to a geologist, I suppose;” George said jocosely. - -“Excuse me, George,” Charles broke in, “but I always used to think they -found those old mastodons under ground; and these bones are _on_ the -ground.” - -“EH?” - -“Yes; don’t they dig all those horrid old telegraph poles of bones out of -the ground?” - -George rose, looking very black and wretched. That important fact had -escaped him. His castle in the air toppled down as Marmaduke’s had done, -and all his grand ideas were buried in its ruins. - -“Perhaps I’m wrong,” Charles continued; “but,” proudly, “I’ve read a -little about such things, and I believe they come out of the ground. But -you know better than I do, George; so, which way is it? Which of us is -right?” - -It was cruel for him to ask such a question. George, however, was not -a boy obstinately to persist that he was right, when common sense said -that he was not. In justice to the boy, it must be observed that, -although he was fully aware of his own cleverness, he did not consider -himself infallible, but was at all times open to reason. To be still more -explicit, he was apt to change his opinions very abruptly. - -“No, Charley,” he said, “you are right enough. But I’m astonished to -think we should take those paltry bones for a fossil! Why--” - -“I never did!” Marmaduke interrupted furiously. - -“Why,” he continued, “of course not! A real fossil would be ashamed to -look at such bones; they would be to him what a minnow’s bones are to -ours. I--I didn’t think, boys; I know what a fossil is, of course.” - -George was miserable if he fancied any one thought him ignorant in any -matter; and he was about to give the natural history of the mastodon, -when Steve diverted the train of his thoughts by asking, “If it ain’t a -fossil, what is it?” - -“Well, it’s part of the remains of some very rare animal, I should -say,--a bison; or a wolverine; or a jackal; or--or----” - -It is the needle that breaks the camel’s back. Will, Charles, and Stephen -could suppress their laughter no longer; they shouted and guffawed like a -desperate villain who fancies that he has married the heroine and lodged -a bullet in the hero’s heart. - -“What’s the matter?” George asked in astonishment. - -Another roar of laughter was the only answer vouchsafed. Steve lay on the -ground, and enjoyed the joke heartily; Charles and Will endeavoured to -take it more moderately. - -Then George’s suspicions were excited. “You boys are fooling me!” he -cried angrily. “Why did you coax Marmaduke and me to look at these bones? -Why did you make us speak about them? Why didn’t _you_ have anything to -say about it? Boys, _why_ did we come here at all?” - -After these direct questions an explanation could be delayed no longer. -The three looked guilty and ceased from laughing. “We never coaxed you to -look at them; and you arrived at your own conclusions. You know you did, -George,” said Charles. - -Will explained as follows: “George, we fixed those bones ourselves, on -purpose to draw you and Marmaduke out. We gathered up a heap of bones of -all kinds, from all over, and brought them here, and covered them up with -boughs. Then we six came here to explore the jungle--we found them--and -you did the rest.” - -The victimized boys did not swoon away, but they were more or less -exasperated. That was the worst feature in the “trick”--it provoked anger -in George and Marmaduke, and lessened their faith in human nature. - -“What a mean, hateful, nasty set of fellows!” was George’s natural -comment. “They must be fond of prowling around bone-heaps; and handling -them; and carrying them up and down the country; eh, Marmaduke? They -ought to be told off--clapper-clawed--bastinadoed--soused in hot water! -We’ll fix them some day; won’t we?” - -“Only,” Steve observed, “_we_ didn’t finger the bones as you two did; -_we_ put them into a basket, and then brought ’em here, and dumped ’em -out--without _once_ touching ’em! Therefore, I advise you both to lather -and scrub your paws with all the soap you can find. Scrub ’em hard, boys, -if you know what is good for ’em.” - -“Yes,” put in Will, “it is polite to handle skeletons and fossils, but -not vulgar bones like these.” - -“Oh! what scurvy boys!” was all poor George could say. - -As for Marmaduke, he held his tongue, being too sulky, too horrified, to -do more than gurgle out a few dismal moans. - -“Well, boys,” said Charley, “it will soon be dinnertime; so let us cover -up these mysterious old bones, and start for home and the soap-barrel.” - -But George was recovering his equilibrium, and he thirsted for revenge. A -light that boded no good to his deceivers shone in his eyes; he was bent -on mischief. - -“Look here, boys,” he began, “how do you know these are the same bones -you accumulated? We stumbled around in the woods just as it happened; we -found ourselves here; and Will suddenly found himself floundering in this -brush-heap. Can you _prove_ this is the place you think it is?” - -“It is not likely that there are bones under all these bushes, George;” -said Charley. “Besides, we took notice where we were going, and we’ve -often been here. I’m certain its the place.” - -“No; you can’t be _certain_; absolutely _certain_;” George replied, so -positively that Will, who lacked firmness, wavered, and helped George’s -cause by saying, “Well, the place has a different look, I believe! But -these _must_ be the bones, surely!” - -“It looks different, because we generally came in from the south;” Steve -returned. “Any boy with two eyes isn’t going to get so far astray in -these woods.” - -“Well, what if it isn’t the place we think it is?” Will asked. - -“Oh, you will have to give in that it’s murder,” Marmaduke said. “I knew -it was murder all the time. How do you know that nobody was ever murdered -here? You don’t know anything about bones; George is most likely right.” - -“Don’t make a fool of yourself again, Marmaduke; let us go home,” Steve -growled, and he had taken a step homeward, when a long and doleful cry, -followed by a hideous and piercing scream, electrified all the boys. - -They conjured up all sorts of horrors, and the bravest turned pale with -fright. Suddenly the “glade” became gloomy and awful; bugbears lurked -in the shadows; ghost stories flitted through their heads; the “Phantom -Ship” loomed before them. - -“Don’t talk about murder, boys; I can’t stand it so coolly as you can,” -Will entreated, with a quavering voice that told of abject terror. - -“Oh, what is the matter?” Steve gasped. “What could yell like that?” - -At that instant another shriek, more appalling than the first, rang out, -rose and fell in grating discord, and then died away in the distance. - -It was sufficient; Charley himself believed that they had made a mistake, -and had been desecrating a human skeleton. Was this the ghost of the -murdered one, or was it the perpetrator of the deed? - -Instinctively the demoralized heroes huddled together, and Marmaduke -found comfort in whispering hoarsely, “Now the mystery is going to be -solved. I knew it was mur--” - -One more shriek! The ghost was very near them now, and its lungs were -strong. But it labored under the disadvantage of a cracked voice; or -perhaps it was not “in practice.” At all events, the sound was so -wild, so awful, that they shuddered with horror--they felt their flesh -crawl--cold chills ran down their back. - -This is not exaggeration; the boys were not easily frightened; but the -ghost--who was at an age at which the voice is subject to changeable and -discordant utterance--was exerting himself to the utmost. - -“I won’t budge, no matter what happens!” Steve declared heroically. - -“No, we must stick by each other, boys,” Will added. - -Once again the ghost found voice This time, however, it spoke--spoke -in tones of fury. “Who dares to say there was not murder here!” was -thundered forth. “Who dares to touch my bones! Let--him--be--ware!” - -This was too much. With a yell of horror and dismay, four boys started to -their feet and tore out of the “jungle,” morally certain that a band of -furious demons was hard behind them. - -“Its dangerous to stay,” Marmaduke said, “for that is poetry!” - -_Four_ boys fled; George lagged behind. “They’ve caught Jim’s disease!” -he chuckled ecstatically. “I’ll teach ’em not to palm off old bones on -me! Perhaps they’ll find that I can play a trick that knocks theirs all -hollow!” - -He performed a jig, and then set out in mad pursuit of his comrades. - -We assign no reason for this act; but if the reader was ever a boy, he -will understand. - -George gave a yell of triumph; but it savoured so strongly of fear that -Will, who had gained an open space, called out cheerily, “Don’t be -afraid, George, if it’s you. Come straight ahead; here we are.” - -“What on earth made such a rumpus?” demanded Stephen, already recovered -from his fright. - -“It must have been something; but of course we were not frightened;” said -the others, whose fears the bright sunshine and the twittering birds had -dispelled. - -“The idea of saying I was afraid!” George roared. “I did that myself.” - -“You made that noise?” gasped the four, in one breath. - -“Yes, boys; I was the ghost;” George said complacently. - -“And the murder--?” Marmaduke began. - -“Never was!” George declared. “Boys, last night I was reading about -ventriloquism; and I set to work and practised it. The man that wrote it -said, ‘After five minutes’ practice, the veriest tyro will find himself -able to rout a coward;’ and I guess he was right.” - -“Botheration! we are sold!” Charles exclaimed, in surprise and -mortification. - -“Yes; you fooled me, and I fooled you all. We’re even now.” - -Steve winced when the Sage again made reference to the learned -ventriloquist’s weighty observation, and demanded indignantly, “Why -didn’t you tell us all that before? Why didn’t you ventriloquism as we -came along?” - -“I was only waiting; I intended to do it before night,” George said -honestly. - -“You read too much, George;” Will commented sorrowfully. “We won’t try to -fool you any more.” - -“The worst of it is,” Charles said, with a droll smile, “is that one of -us can’t make fun of another, for we all made fools of ourselves.” - -“There’s Jim,” Steve suggested. - -“So there is! Well, what about the murder?” - -“It certainly is a skeleton,” Marmaduke said grimly. - -“Well, to please you, let us call it an ‘open question,’” George, who was -now in jubilant spirits, observed. - -“Let us go back and look for the lost trinket; that will solve the -problem;” Stephen proposed. - -“Never mind the trinket, boys;” said Charley; “it will keep till another -day. But give me a scrap of paper and a more respectable pencil than my -own ruinous one, and I’ll write something worth while.” - -Wonderingly, Marmaduke handed out the articles asked for, and Charley -wrote as follows:-- - - ONE SLATE PENCIL REWARD. - - DEAD OR ALIVE! - - This reward will be given to anybody who revives a ghost, dead - or alive, to claim these bones and solve this mystery. - - C. GOODFELLOW. - -Then, to prove his fearlessness, he retraced his steps to the bones, -looking as brave as the hero of an orthodox love story, and pinned his -notice to a scrubby tree hard by. - -Tracking his way back to his schoolfellows, he said, “Boys, I’m hungry.” - -Without more ado the heroes turned their faces homewards, each one except -Marmaduke satisfied with his own exploits. Marmaduke jogged on ahead in -sullen silence; and while the sage held forth, with schoolboy oratory, -on anatomy, astronomy, geology, navigation, jugglery, osteology, -whale-fishing, and ventriloquism, the other three amused themselves by -carving baskets out of peach-stones, and wounding their index fingers in -the hazardous attempt. - - - - -_Chapter IX._ - -“THREE WISE MEN WENT TO SEA IN A BOWL.” - - -A few days later the boys gathered together and strolled down to the -beach, hoping something there would turn up to amuse them. - -Two or three schooners and a steamboat were moored at the wharf; but -to-day they excited only a languid interest in the boys. - -“If we could only go out on the lake,” Will murmured, “it would be fun.” - -“Why, where should we go?” inquired one. - -“Oh, just out on the lake for a mile or so; or perhaps we might round the -point and have a swim in our swimming-place.” - -“Well, then,” said Jim, always with an eye to safety and comfort, “why -not get out your father’s boat? Wouldn’t it float us all? And it’s so -safe!” - -“Yes,” said Will, “it’s pretty safe--very safe in the boat-house. And the -key of the boat-house is safer still, at home! That’s the way it goes, -boys; and when I want a boat ride, I generally struggle around the best -I can. It isn’t worth while to trudge home for it; because, most likely, -we should find something else to do when we got there. But I think we can -light on a craft of some sort if we scratch around a little.” - -Although Will’s father owned a boat, the key of his boat-house was always -kept at home; and poor Will was about as much benefited as are most boys -whose fathers own boats, and ponies, and carriages. - -“I hanker for a boat ride,” Charley said. “Let us take the punt.” - -“The punt, of course!” Steve chimed in. “The punt is just what we want.” - -“Oh,” groaned Jim, “the punt is dirty and worn out; and it leaks; and it -tips over; and it won’t go; and an awful storm is going to come up!” - -“Look here, boys,” the Sage began, “Jim’s half-way right about that punt; -it’s vulgar! And besides, it isn’t so safe as it ought to be. Only the -other day, I read about some boys that went out in a cockle-shell of -a boat,--I suppose it meant a punt; only, as I told you, punt is very -vulgar, too vulgar for this author, at any rate,--and all got drowned! -And another thing; I’ve been reading about the weather lately, and I -understand just how it goes now.” - -And the Sage looked so knowing that it was difficult for the boys to -suppress their laughter. He was now casting intelligent glances at the -sky, the birds, the grasshoppers, the lake, and even the ground. Soon he -spoke. - -“Boys,” he said, as impressively as he knew how, “I’m saying nothing -rashly, but deliberately and--and--_correctly_. I’ve observed the weather -indicators, and _a dreadful storm is coming up fast_! A storm that will -stun an equinoctial, and tear Germany all to pieces.” - -And the meteorologist’s form swelled with science and satisfaction. - -“Whereas, on account of these gloomy auguries, resolved: that we go -home and hide in the cellar hatchway till the storm is over,” Charles -commented. - -“No, boys; I’m in earnest, and I don’t care to go out in the punt,” -George said firmly. - -“I want to inquire into this drowning affair,” Steve said, “Didn’t you -read about it in a little gilt-edged story-book?” - -“Well, yes, I did,” George reluctantly acknowledged. “But, what of that?” - -“Only this, were they all bad boys?” - -“Come to think, they were.” - -“That accounts for it then. They always put those solemn tales in books -for little boys that get sick, and can’t get out doors, to make ’em -think that a sound boy is always bad, and that it’s better to be sick. -But somehow the superintendent always make a muddle of it, and give all -those books to little girls. My little sisters have got a big cigar box -chock-full of ’em, endwise up, and I never got one!” - -“Yes, I know them; each nine chapters and a preface long,” said Charley. - -“They’re the ones,” said Steve. - -“What do your sisters do with them?” Will asked. - -“Oh, they mostly build houses with ’em on rainy days,” Steve answered. -“Now, we are not bad boys--never were. We are a first-rate crew, so let -us go. But to please you, George, I’ll go and ask that sailor about the -weather. I guess he ought to know, if anybody’s going to.” - -Without loss of time, Steve went up to a sailor a little way off, and -inquired, “Bill, what sort of weather are we going to have to-day?” - -“Weather,” echoed Bill, grinning good-humoredly. “Well, look out for -a rough gale; pretty rough and pretty long. Yes, there’ll be an awful -blow--a hurricane--a typhoon!” he added, remarking Steve’s dissatisfied -looks, and mistaking their cause. “Why, who knows but that there’ll be a -zephyr that’ll swoop the hold clean out of a vessel and carry a door-knob -clean over a flag staff.” - -Stephen appeared more dissatisfied than ever; and the jocose sailor, -who wished to please him, was about to give a startling account of what -the weather _might_ be; but more than satisfied, Steve thanked him, and -returned to the expectant five. - -“Well, what does he say?” Will demanded. - -Stephen dejectedly repeated what the sailor had told him. - -George was not in a humor to say, “I told you so!” On the contrary, he -was furious against the sailor. He allowed his indignation to boil for -a few moments, and then exclaimed, haughtily, “What does that man know -about the weather? Why, he doesn’t know any more about it than a caged -dromedary. Why, he’s nothing but a lubber--a fresh-water sailor--a -stone-boater--a--a--” - -“And, besides,” chimed in Marmaduke, “that isn’t the way a genuine sailor -talks. He must be some disguised--” - -“Yes, of course it isn’t; of course he is;” George broke in. “He is some -disguised vagabond, trying to humbug us fellows. Come along, boys; I’m -going with you in that punt, through thick and thin, in the teeth of -every lubberly sailor, and wishy-washy weather indicator, and high toned -thunder-storm, that ever astonished anybody!” - -This strikes the key-note to the Sage’s character. - -But Stephen was angered. “See here, George,” he exclaimed, “that man is -an honest sailor and a decent fellow, and you just let him alone!” - -The boys, thinking time enough had been fooled away, then made a rush for -the punt. This punt was an old derelict, heavy, unwieldy, full of chinks, -and boasting of only two crazy poles, called “oars,” or “paddles,” or -“sculls,” according to the humor of the wretch who gallanted them. No -one could step into this craft without getting wet; and why it was kept -there, or what use it was to the community, was unknown; for no one, -except a few freckled and grimy street urchins, ever shoved off in it. -Perhaps it was kept for them! - -The six, however, had urged their way round the wharf in it. - -“Come along, Jim!” Steve shouted, seeing that Timor lagged behind. - -“Such a dirty boat to get into!” Jim objected. “And I’ve got my good -clothes on, too!” - -“Come, now, Jim, you and George are altogether too careful of your -clothes. If they are so new and good, or so old and rotten, that you -can’t go with us, then stay at home. Hurry up, you’ve got to go with us,” -and Steve forced him in--an unwilling passenger. - -And so the adventurous boys embarked in this dirty and dilapidated craft, -with which Time, so to speak, had worked wonders. - -“How are we to make the crazy thing go?” Will asked, when fairly afloat, -looking around in vain for any motive power. - -It is always thus with boys. Not till their own imprudence plunges them -into difficulties, do they pause to consider what it all means, and -what they had better do. When a boy is small he clambers upon the roof -of his father’s barn, enjoys the perspective for one brief moment, and -then ruminates as to how he shall get down. His mother sees him, and -with tears in her eyes and dismay at her heart, tears out of the house, -and exclaims, “Oh, Johnnie, why did you get up there?” Then the little -innocent answers stoutly, “Well, ma, I reckoned if I could get up, I -could get down again. Now, you jest watch, and I’ll climb down like a -spider. Don’t be afraid, ma, it’s nice up here; I can see Mr. Morley’s -shed,” (the object which bounds his view.) When older, he “volunteers;” -girds on his uniform with swelling heart; breathes the word _patriotism_ -with lover-like tenderness,--and then! Ah! then he fears to confront his -father. - -“Botheration!” cried Stephen, “we’ve left those oars on shore! There they -are; behind Reichter’s boat-house. Back her up, boys, and I’ll jump out -and get ’em.” - -Poor sea-farers! In their eagerness to be off they had “set sail” without -the “oars.” After a great struggle, they succeeded in urging the punt -back so that Steve could jump ashore. Then the dauntless young voyagers -told off the crew, and struck out gallantly. - -“Now, Tim,” said Stephen, “if you’ll take that old oyster-can, and bale -out this vessel, you’ll feel so much at home that you’ll be happy; and -bye-and-bye I’ll help you.” - -“It has no business to leak,” Jim grumbled. “But I told you it did!” he -added, triumphantly. - -“Of course it does; what’s a boat, if it doesn’t leak?” Steve snorted. - -On they went; drifting, paddling, and sculling; laughing and joking. It -seemed so joyous and secure that even Timor lost his uneasiness. Before -they had determined whither they were going, the abutments of the wharf -were passed, and they were fairly out on the lake. The farther they went, -the higher their spirits rose, and the more jocose they became. Not one -of them troubled himself about a storm. - -“Well, boys, we can round the point, and have our swim right along. Let -us do it,” said Will. - -“Yes, I haven’t had a swim in the lake for three weeks!” Jim solemnly -declared, as he rested a few minutes from baling out the punt. - -The others were duly astonished at this (we say it boldly) neglect of -duty. - -Steve, who was tugging lustily at his oar, called out to George, the -helmsman: “Fetch her around, there, old fellow; brace about for the -shore, will you? Don’t be so lubberly, now, or you’ll keel her over. Hug -her up for the shore, I tell you!” - -“Look here, Stephen Goodfellow, I can navigate this dingy without so many -orders; so, let me alone!” the helmsman retorted, indignantly. - -“Now, boys,” said Will, “if we are mariners, let us behave ourselves. A -captain and his crew always act in harmony, like a drummer’s drum and a -tooter’s horn.” - -“Of course,” chimed in Charley. “They don’t wrangle like a couple of -bumpkins of boys in their collarless shirt sleeves.” - -“What’s a dingey?” asked Jim. - -“I--I believe it isn’t in my dictionary; but it’s a good-for-nothing -craft, that is always an eyesore to the noodle that harbors it,” said -George. - -The punt was headed for the beach; but a decided swell, which had -hitherto been in their favor, was now against them, and progress was -slow. By dint of exertion however, in the course of time, they grounded -their craft at the water’s edge, and sprang out to enjoy their bath. The -gloomy speculations about the weather were forgotten, and not one noticed -the threatening clouds looming up in the west. - -The old sailor had not trifled with them; a storm was brewing. - -Although their swimming-place was somewhat difficult of approach, it -was retired and delightful, the great resort of all the swimmers in the -neighborhood. That was the only drawback; it was too much resorted to by -swimmers. But to-day the boys had it all to themselves. - -“Well,” said Marmaduke, as he plunged into the water, “we boys and the -rest of the folks are acquainted with a good place to swim in, as the -Frenchman would say.” - -“Never mind the Frenchman now, Marmaduke;” replied Will; “English will -float you through the world.” - -Jim had hardly stepped into the water when he cried out, “Oh, boys, the -water is too cold and nasty; I’m shi-i-ivering!” - -“Well, then,” sang out Steve, whose head was bobbing up and down some -thirty yards from the shore, “bundle on your clothes, and play the anchor -to that punt. It’ll drift across the lake, if somebody doesn’t take -charge of it.” - -But it _was_ cold and disagreeable, and their swimming was of short -duration. They waded ashore with chattering teeth, and huddled on their -clothes as quickly as their shivering limbs would permit. - -“Boys, suppose that we go home by land?” Steve proposed. “It wouldn’t be -so very far, and then it would be a change.” - -“That’s a capital idea, Steve; but what would become of the dingey? We -mus’n’t leave it here,” said Will. - -“Then let us make off.” - -Without delay the six took their places in the punt, and shoved off. - -There was now not only a perceivable swell, but also a perceivable -breeze. In a word, the scullers found that it was unnecessary to handle -their sculls, for the punt drifted merrily seaward without a stroke from -them. - -“Look here, boys,” cried the Sage, prefacing his remarks, as usual, with -his darling expression, “we could hardly make the shore a while ago; and -now just see how fast we are drifting out! I don’t believe we could get -back to our swimming place; let us try it.” - -“Let us be glad that we are getting a boat-ride without work,” was -Steve’s foolish comment. - -But his fellow-voyagers considered the matter in a different light, and -tried to back the oars. They could still do so, but only by putting forth -all their strength. Their situation was now so critical that they turned -pale with dread. - -“O dear!” gasped Timor, too frightened to say more. - -“Why didn’t we go home by land!” Steve ejaculated. - -“Pity we didn’t do that,” Will said. “Before we could row ashore, the -swell would be too much for us, wouldn’t it?” - -“Of course it would,” George answered. - -“And we’re almost too far from shore to swim to it,” Charles asked, -rather than said. - -“Couldn’t swim there without getting the cramps, Charley,” Will replied, -in a hoarse whisper. - -“Look to the west!” Jim cried in terror. “Oh, boys! I’ve got ’em! got the -chills! dreadful chills! awful chills! O boys! we shall all be drowned! -We’ll perish! We’ll be drownded! drownded to death! Oh! what a dreadful -storm!” - -All looked towards the west, and saw that a storm was almost upon them. -The black clouds piling up were certainly ominous; the breeze was getting -stiffer every minute; the lake was getting rougher. - -“Well boys we’re caught!” Stephen said gravely. Poor boy! all his mirth -had forsaken him. - -But it was now convenient for George to remember that he had -prognosticated a storm; and, forgetting the incident of the “disguised” -sailor, he exclaimed, “Yes Steve, we’re in a tight place. But I was right -about the storm, boys.” - -Steve was too much flurried to remind the boy that he had arrived at a -different conclusion, scouted the idea of a storm, and determined to -accompany them. - -“Well, boys,” said Marmaduke, “this is a storm at sea: let us enjoy it -while it lasts.” - -“No, Marmaduke, let us be thankful that it is _not_ a storm at sea,” Will -replied. “As for enjoying it, that would be pretty hard work. Don’t you -know that we are in danger?” - -“O dear! what will become of us!” Jim groaned. - -The shock was wearing off now; and Charley found courage to ask, -jocularly, “Is that all you have to say, Marmaduke? I expected something -better from you.” - -Steve put in promptly, though he was still very much discomposed: “Oh, -Marmaduke’s mouth is full of words; he’s only puzzling which to say -first.” - -“Look here, boys,” said the Sage, “how far astray was I about the -weather?” - -“Very far, George; nearly as far as that miserable stone-boater,” Steve -answered maliciously. - -This nettled George, and he asked testily in a grum voice, “What about -the little books now, Steve? Don’t you think they were right enough?” - -“Well, George, it seems like it, surely enough,” Steve acknowledged. - -“Don’t say spiteful things when we are in such danger,” Charles here -interposed. “And besides,” he added, “we are all in the same scrape, and -no one is to blame for it. So, let us lay our wise heads together, and -try to save ourselves.” - - - - -_Chapter X._ - -THE “BOWL” COMES TO GRIEF. - - -The first shock had now passed away, and the foolhardy scullers were -beginning to recover their spirits. Although each one was still almost -quaking with dread, yet each one believed that they would be rescued; -and each one--except, perhaps, Jim--had a theory of his own as to how -it would be effected. They viewed the matter logically. To them, it did -not seem possible that six clever boys, determined, true, and good, (the -writer and the reader may not agree to this) could perish so near home. -They searched their minds diligently, conscience helping them, and many -little things that made them uneasy were remembered; still: _they would -be rescued, they knew it_. - -The punt was now a long way out on the lake; the point was passed; -looking longingly towards home they could discern the vessels at anchor, -the wharf, and several buildings in the village. - -In the confusion of the moment, they had left off bailing out the -ramshackle punt, in which there were, consequently, three or four inches -of water. A dead fish and half a dozen emaciated fish-worms--abandoned, a -few days before, by an amateur angler of ten years--were carried hither -and thither over the bottom of the punt, adding to the ghastliness of the -scene. - -Jim was the first to discover the water washing over his boots. Here was -a new source of distress. Forgetting the storm, which was still more -or less in the distance, his attention was centred upon that water. To -him, in his “good clothes,” it was more to be dreaded than the bellowing -waves, or the approaching storm. Thus, gentle reader, we get an insight -into the boy’s character. - -“O dear!” he said piteously, “my feet are soaking wet in the bottom of -this nasty boat; and I’m cold; and I’m catching cold; and I’ve got the -chills.” - -“Well, then, set on to your feet and bale her out,” Steve growled. “I -guess we don’t want to drown in this old coal-slide of a punt.” - -Heaving an agonizing sigh, Jim snatched up the floating oyster-can, and -fell to work. Poor boy! his toil was monotonous and painful. - -“Is it worth while to row?” Charley asked, not hopelessly, but -speculatively. - -“Perhaps not, but it will keep up our spirits, anyway,” Will said. “Steer -it, George,” he added. “It would seem like giving up all hope, if we -don’t do something to help ourselves.” - -Foolish fellow! he could not realize that it was out of their power to -help themselves. - -“This is a sorry ending for our little trip, and things look pretty black -for us,” George observed, “Charley, how do you suppose we can be rescued?” - -Thus appealed to, Charles assumed an air of importance, and said -knowingly, “If this wind should get much worse, we shall be driven away -out into the lake, and perhaps lost; unless--” here he hesitated. - -“Unless what?” Jim demanded, with much emotion. - -“Well, a passing schooner might pick us up, but there is none in sight.” - -This was _his_ theory. Nothing would have pleased the young Argonaut more -than to be picked up by a passing sailing-vessel; and for this reason, he -was morally certain that, sooner or later, such would be the case. Why he -chose to speak so doubtfully about it, is best known to himself. Probably -the sharp young reader can guess. - -“Or, they might send for us from home; but I can’t see anybody coming -along in a life-boat,” Will said, giving his particular theory. - -“Haven’t any life-boat to send; and I guess they won’t telegraph for -one!” Steve exclaimed rudely. - -“Oh, you mean fellow!” Jim broke in, apostrophizing unpoetic Stephen. -“You made me come, and you’ve got to get me home!” - -“The truth is, we may as well prepare for the worst!” George said, -deliberately and with seeming sincerity. But the grin on his face -belied his words. He was only waiting for a fit time to pronounce his -opinion--the most extravagant of all. - -“George, how long could a fellow live on the water without any food?” -Steve inquired, not at all awed by George’s lugubrious asseveration. - -“Oh, how long?” said George, so pleased to have an opportunity of drawing -on his extensive and miscellaneous reading that he lost track of his own -pet theory. “Well, boys, a shipwrecked sailor once lived twenty-two days -without food; but he was a fat old fellow--a captain, I think he was. -Now, in our case--” - -“Don’t talk nonsense, George;” Will interrupted at this point. “We are -not going to experiment in that way; for _on the lake_,” with significant -emphasis, “we shall not have a chance to see how long we can live without -food, as it’s either saving or drowning with us. Look at those clouds -again. It will rain in a few minutes. But cheer up! I think we shall be -safe at home within three hours; and then this storm will be an episode -in our lives as long as we live. If we could only let the folks on shore -know, they’d soon come along.” - -“Yes, if we could open up communication with the people at home!” Charley -sighed. - -“Boys,” said Marmaduke, with great animation, “I can tell you how to do -that; tie a handkerchief, or something else, to one of the sculls!” - -“Good for you, Marmaduke!” Charles cried, with delight. “You are a -genius!” - -“Yes, Marmaduke, you’ve hit on the very thing!” said Steve. “Now, whose -is the largest?--Mine is;” and two minutes later Steve’s handkerchief was -fluttering as a flag. - -“I--I was just thinking about that, too;” Jim stammered. - -A hearty laugh--the first since they had left their swimming-place--burst -from the boys at this. - -The little white flag on the oar was romantic; it inspired hope in them; -they became fearless, even merry. Each one was sufficiently susceptible -of romance to place the greatest confidence in the saving powers of that -little handkerchief. It was medicine to Jim’s troublesome disorder, while -to Marmaduke it was everything. He sat bolt upright, devouring it with -his eyes, his heart going at high pressure. Environed with romance, with -danger on every side, he made an idol of the little square of linen, -which, but for his sapience, would not have left its owner’s pocket. What -did he care for danger? Though they should float for hours, this would -eventually save them. Thus he sat, gazing eloquently and lovingly on the -white flag. - -Did we say _white_? Alas! it was not white! Two days previous to this, -Steve had made it serve him for a towel. - -Meanwhile, the breeze increased to a gale, and the punt was tossed about -in a manner to make even Steve fidgety, while it made pigeon-hearted Jim -draw groans expressive of unutterable agony. The sinking sun was hidden -by black clouds; the storm was upon them. In fact, their situation was -really becoming desperate. - -“Why is it so dark, boys?” Jim articulated faintly. - -“Why, surely enough, it’s so dusk, so _hazy_, that we can hardly see the -harbor!” George said. - -“My stars, boys, it’s an eclipse!” cried Steve, forgetting his peril -in the excitement of his astounding discovery. “An eclipse! The -down-rightest eclipse that ever was! George,” banteringly, “don’t -you wish you’d brought in something about this eclipse when you were -foretelling the weather!” - -The Sage experienced some of the emotions of a huffish philosopher when -floored by a hulking lout from the copper regions. - -George’s words had directed Charley’s attention towards the harbor. “Oh! -Look! look!” he cried. “They’re coming! coming at last!” - -“Where? where?” cried the others eagerly, stretching over the gunwale of -their crazy craft and peering into the darkness. - -The water-loving boatmen soon descried a long-boat drawing towards them. - -“Help at last!” Will ejaculated thankfully. “And it will reach us barely -in time to save us.” - -“The signal has done it, boys,” Marmaduke observed with complacency. - -“Let us yell!” said Will. - -How they shouted! Their pent-up woes found vent, and they shouted till -hoarseness necessitated them to forbear. - -But the manager of the signal had not shouted, and when the voices of the -others finally died away in a discordant murmur, he said snappishly, “You -needn’t yell like an hobomokko; this flag will guide them to us.” - -“Yes; but it’s better to yell,” Steve panted. “In fact, I couldn’t help -it!” - -“I wish we could stop this punt till they come up with us,” Will said, -“for we are drifting farther from them all the time,” sighing to hear the -water plunk against the punt with remorseless and dreary monotony. - -“Well, we can’t anchor; but they’re rowing hard and coming fast,” Charles -replied. - -“Will, it’s your fault that we came; you proposed it;” Jim said. - -“That may be, Jim,” the standard-bearer replied; “but I think we all -had a hand in it--except, of course, you. But _I_ am the one who has -saved you, and saved us all. This signal of distress has been sighted, -and then immediately they made ready to rescue us,” and he looked -triumphantly at the boys, defying a denial. - -“Oh, yes; I know it’s all right; I ain’t afraid;” Jim said quickly. - -Stephen spoke next. “How everybody will laugh at us!” he said, -elaborating a dolorous sigh and putting on a hideous grimace. - -Now that succor was at hand, this thought began to depress his mind. - -The approaching long-boat was a fascinating sight to all, to Marmaduke -especially. As it drew nearer, the latter suddenly and most unwarrantably -struck the improvised flag and stuffed it into Stephen’s coat-pocket. -Had he become ashamed of it? Could he be so base? No! no! but it was not -needed now! - -In good time the long-boat came within hailing distance. - -“Hollo there, you lubbers!” a voice bellowed. “You’re a pretty lot of -fellers, ain’t you?” - -“Why didn’t he say, ‘Ship, ahoy!’ or ‘Boat, ahoy!’” Marmaduke murmured. - -“You mean, why didn’t he say, ‘Punters, ahoy!’” Steve corrected. - -George felt it incumbent on him to make some reply, so he called back -feebly, “All right!” - -Each boy now began to “feel like an idiot,” as Steve put it. Each one -experienced the feeling that any boy, caught in a similar predicament, -would experience. The writer has suffered in that way, and consequently -knows how to pity those miserable boys. - -The long-boat was soon alongside. It contained several men,--among them, -Will’s and Jim’s father, overjoyed at this happy meeting,--and the sailor -whom Steve had questioned concerning the weather appeared to be leader. - -The rescue came about in this way: When the storm was seen approaching, -the boys were found to be missing, and inquiries for them were at once -instituted. For some time these were fruitless; but at length Mr. -Lawrence, guessing shrewdly that they would be on the water at such a -time as this, went down to the wharf, and came upon and interrogated -the old sailor. “Well,” said the latter, “one of ’em asked me about the -weather, and I expect they all went off on the lake, but I don’t know; I -saw ’em poking around for a boat, I guess it was, and then I went into -the hold of the schooner, and didn’t see ’em any more. We can overhaul -them, Sir, but it will be a long and hard pull.” - -This clue was sufficient; a good glass was procured, and the boys were -descried far out on the lake. Then a boat was manned in hot haste, and -put off to the rescue. - -“Well, younkers,” said the old sailor, “you must hurry up, for there’s -no time to be idled away.” Then, with a sportive wink, (which the gloom -made invisible) he added, “I guess you fellers will believe me next time -I warn you to look out for blows.” - -“Yes, boys, you’ve done a foolish thing, but your mothers will be so glad -to see you that they’ll forgive you,” a good-natured sailor observed. - -The transfer from the punt to the long-boat was soon made, and then one -of the rescuers demanded, “What about this craft? Shall we cast it off, -or tow it into harbor for another set of boys to drown in?” - -But a practical man, who made it an established principle of his life -never to lose anything that came in his way, passed his dictum that the -punt must be preserved at all risks. - -“Of course this will be a warning to all the boys,” he said, “and it -would be a sin to lose a ship-shape craft like this. Just see how well -it floated them! No boy is so wrong-headed that he won’t profit by -experience.” - -So, much to the chagrin of the boys, who now regarded the punt with -deadly hatred, it was hitched to the long-boat, and the flotilla set sail -for home. - -“Speaking of experience,” spoke up a furrow-faced rower, who plied his -oars lustily, “I never knew but one boy that profited by experience, and -he never did it but once, when he couldn’t help himself, so to speak.” - -“What are the details of the particulars, Tom?” asked one. - -“Well, the boy went fishing with a tinker, against orders.” - -“And he profited--?” - -“’Cause he caught cold, and died of too much cough-syrup and remorse.” - -“Boys,” said Mr. Lawrence, seriously, “you have risked your lives for -a moment’s pleasure, and even yet we are in some peril. I do hope, I -sincerely hope, that _you_ will profit by this lesson.” - -The boys turned pale. A second time they realized their danger, and they -breathed a silent prayer of thankfulness for their deliverance. - -“What were you doing to help yourselves?” Mr. Horner inquired. - -“We were trying to steer the punt as well as we could,” Will answered. - -“What?” cried the furrow-faced sailor in astonishment. “Steering? how? -where? why? whew! where on earth were you steering to?” - -“Well, we thought we’d keep it as straight as we could,” Will said, -apologetically. - -“Well,” gasped the sailor, not at all awed by the presence of Messrs. -Lawrence and Horner, “that beats me! To think of a pack of noodles trying -to save themselves by steering, when their craft is going the wrong way!” - -To return to the punt. When Jim saw help approaching, he did not bale -the punt so carefully; consequently, at the time of starting for home, -there was considerable water in it. Fuller and fuller it became; not -only did the water leak in through the cracks, but volumes of it poured -in over the stern. When almost filled, the lumbering and water-soaked -craft quivered a moment on the surface of the waters, then suddenly sank, -snapped the rope by which it was tacked to the long-boat, and disappeared -forever. - -The practical man sighed meekly: the sailors grinned; the rescued heroes -chuckled audibly. - -So trifling an incident may seem a blot on these well-written pages, but -it is related because it discovers the characteristics of boys. - -Will and Jim, awed by the parental presence, said but little during -the voyage homewards. Stephen, however,--whose spirits neither strange -gentlemen, nor blustering seamen, nor chilling rains, nor raging seas, -could damp,--soon recovered his sprightliness, and demanded:-- - -“Why didn’t you come for us in the steamboat there at the wharf? It would -have taken so much less time to reach us.” - -“The steamboat!” echoed a sailor, wondering more than ever at these -boys. “Well, that beats all! A steamboat! You must be a goose! You live -beside the lake, and I’ve seen you poking about the vessels and steamers, -as smart and pert as a homeless peanut boy; and yet you ask me such a -question! Don’t you know, from watching the engineers, how long it takes -to get on a good head of steam? And, s’pose we had come for you in the -steamboat--why, it would have knocked you and your ragamuffin’s punt -endwise!” - -Steve fetched a hollow and piteous sigh, and mumbled something about -knowing something. - -“Yes, of course; but if you had brought along a few gallons of oil,” -suggested the sage, rejoicing in the opportunity afforded for holding up -his knowledge, even in so hopeless a cause, “you could have calmed the -water, stopped the steamer, and picked us up without any trouble. - -“Exactly--_if you had been worth a few gallons of oil_!” was the crusty -blue-jacket’s cutting reply. - -“The life-boat is the right thing to go and save people in,” Marmaduke -commented. - -“Yes, of course it is;” the sage hastened to observe. “I only made the -remark.” - -“I think you are very remark-able boys,” put in Mr. Lawrence. - -“What made you think we were on the lake?” Will inquired. - -“I suppose you caught sight of my--_our_, I mean,--signal of distress?” -Marmaduke said placidly. - -“Your what? ‘Signal of distress?’ Well, that knocks everything else on -head: that is most extraordinary!” the scandalized tar ejaculated. - -Poor fellow! The boys’ observations and inquiries had kept him in a state -of continual bewilderedness. It was he who had expressed his astonishment -so huffishly every time. - -“Yes,” rejoined Marmaduke, “the handkerchief on the oar. That brought -you, didn’t it?” - -“I don’t know anything about any handkerchief on any oar; and you must -be crazy to think we could see one in this darkness,” was the depressing -answer. “But, to be sure,” the sailor added, “I did notice that a pole -with a rag on it seemed to be lowered just before we came up to you; was -that the signal?” - -“Boys, I knew how fond you are of endangering your lives, and when -you were nowhere to be found, I shrewdly suspected that you had found -your way out into the storm--and surely enough, you had!” Mr. Lawrence -explained. - -“Marmaduke, don’t meddle with romance again!” Charles whispered. - -“I never did like sailors, except in stories,” Marmaduke muttered; “they -are always a mean and sneering set of fellows, except on the ocean.” - -“I never knew such fellows,” muttered the sage; “I--I shouldn’t be -surprised if they turn out to be ex-pirates!” - -“I’ll bet they are!” said Steve, who took kindly to this brilliant idea. -“Jim, I say, Jim,” he whispered slyly, “it’s too bad you’re in your good -clothes; for you’ll have to change ’em for the old ones! Now, _we_ can -change for our best.” - -“Let me row!” he said suddenly to the furrow-faced rower, so coaxingly -that the row-locks creaked in sympathy. - -“No, I came to save you, and I’ll be hanged if I don’t,” the man said -roughly. “You did the punting; just leave me alone for the rowing.” - -Poor Stephen! He longed to take a turn with the sailors in rowing, but -this crushed him, and he was mute. - -“They’re not a bit like sailors,” he mumbled to himself, drawing his -water-soaked hat down over his gleaming eye-balls. - -The men’s surliness, on this occasion, was because they were disgusted -with the worthies whom they had come so far to save. - -Soon afterwards they reached the wharf, where a knot of people had -assembled to welcome them. A hearty hand-shaking followed, and then the -six, mighty heroes, in _their_ eyes, were marched off home in triumph. - -At least six families were made happy and thankful that night, for the -boys had had a narrow escape. - - - - -_Chapter XI._ - -A TALENTED LECTURER. - - -A few weeks later, the holidays, like all other good things, came to an -end, and the six returned to school. - -On the opening day a certain great man--great in his own estimation, -at least--was to deliver a speech to the school children. This notable -gentleman bristled with facts and figures; but, alas! he had acquired -so much erudition that he had lost all sense of the fitness of things. -Having learned all that is possible for one mortal to know, and yet live, -he now made it his pursuit to journey through the country, delivering -lectures at the different colleges, and sometimes, as in this instance, -at the public schools. There was nothing wicked about this most peculiar -man; but, with all his learning, he lacked one thing--practical wisdom. - -He was of “slender bulk,”--that is, short and gaunt--saffron-faced, -and had a pugilistic and threatening manner of poising himself while -speaking, his hands, meantime, describing geometrical curves that were -picturesque in the extreme. His eyes were sharp and prominent; his nose -followed suit: and his cane, which was stout and elaborately ornamented, -was worth, to descend to a hackneyed comparison, an emperor’s ransom. - -He employed the same technical terms that he did when addressing the -most polished audiences; and, for that reason, the younger children -looked upon him as a sort of hero, while to George and Marmaduke he was -a full-fledged demi-god. The former (George) listened attentively to the -lecture, and took mental note of the big words, with a view to explain -their import to his less learned schoolfellows, should an opportunity -offer for doing so without too much ostentation. But, alas! poor youth, -many words which were strange to him rolled glibly from the professors -tongue. - -Here we pause--not to make a “digression,” but a vulgar harangue. - -The writer has the temerity to hazard the assertion that there might -be, in some lone corner of the world, an English-speaking romancer, as -familiar with a foreign language as with his own, who could write a tale -about people speaking that language, and yet have his tale so purely and -thoroughly English that the most neuralgic critic could not cavil or -repine. But this is only a rash surmise, and is probably fanciful. - -Or is it only those who have acquired a smattering of another language -that are so eager to lug in words and phrases peculiar to that language? - -When will the mediocre writer of English come to understand that his -meanest, as well as his sublimest ideas, may be manifested with as much -force in English as in any other language? Alas, never! Instead of -saying “such a man is a sharper,” he says, “such a man is a _chevalier -d’industrie_.” What could be more expressive than “he is a devil of -a fellow?” And yet our learned penmen prefer to say, “he is _uomo -stupendo_!” It is a notorious fact, that whatever language a writer is -most conversant in, he draws upon oftenest. Happily, the reading public -are not much bored with scraps from the Esquimau. - -But, protests the reader, there are certain terms, and entire phrases, -that are not yet Anglicized, but that are in everybody’s mouth. - -Very true; against the proper use of such terms and phrases, _in -moderation_, no objections can be raised. - -Having thus prated nonsense enough to incur the deadly hatred of every -sentimental scribbler to the weeklies of rural towns, this interesting -argument may be dropped, particularly as it only heads up to the -following observation:-- - -Our circumforaneous holderforth was one of those who cannot make a speech -without “borrowing from the classics;” but (for the best of reasons, -gentle reader) we kindly suppress his redundancies in that respect. - -After a few introductory remarks, he cleared his throat, and in sonorous -tones began to speak of--hydrophobia! Why he should pitch on that as a -subject of discussion is as great a marvel as the man himself. Possibly, -he had been bitten by an exasperated mad dog at some period in his -life, and could not overcome the temptation of speaking of it now. But -the probability is that he considered himself the fountain-head of all -sciences and theories, of physics and etiology. At all events, whatever -the wiseacre’s motive may have been, it is certain that he spoke of -hydrophobia. - -“My dear little children,” he began, affectionately, “it is of the -utmost importance that you should be made acquainted with the latest -discoveries that science has made with regard to that most subtle -distemper, learnedly called lycanthropy. To those among you who intend to -become physicians on attaining majority, this subject will be absorbingly -interesting. It is not my purpose to trace this dread distemper from the -first mention we have of it down to the present time, but merely to give -you a concise description of its operations in the human system, from -its incipient stages to the final paroxysms, and also to touch upon the -various methods of treatment in repute among those who have conquered -immortality by their researches in that field. - -“Probably none of you ever beheld a rabid canine. When fleshed in the -blood of his victims, he presents one of the most appalling sights that -the imagination can conjure up, and rivals in ferocity the fabulous -monsters of the ancients. But in good time I shall discourse more at -large on his appearance; for the present it is sufficient that I make -apparent the--But,” breaking off abruptly, “it is well that there should -be a thorough understanding between a speaker and his auditors.” - -Then, with that benevolent smile, peculiar to instructors of juveniles -when propounding their knotty questions, he demanded, “Little ones, can -you define _hydrophobia_ for me?” - -The “little ones” stared stolidly and helplessly, but said nothing. -The teacher, Mr. Meadows, looking encouraging--then, beseeching--then, -mortified--then, irritated--then, wicked. Still the “little ones” -maintained silence, both the scholastic and his lecture being -unintelligible to them. - -He repeated his question; and George--who, although he did not wish to -be ranked with the “little ones,” yet feared that the learned man might -consider him equally ignorant if he did not speak--rose prepared to give -a precise and lengthy definition. - -This strikes the key-note to the Sages character. - -But a mischievous little gum-chewer, who doubtless could have answered -with tolerable correctness, if he had chosen to do so, forestalled him by -shouting, at the top of his voice: “Burnt matches and water, Sir!” - -Now, it is probable that the juveniles had a chaotic idea of the -signification of the word, though unable to define it; and as the -youngster just cited was generally correct in his answers, they jumped to -the conclusion that he was correct this time; therefore, with a deafening -shout, some fifty “little ones” yelled: “BURNT MATCHES and WATER, SIR!!!” - -Poor Teacher Meadows! The emotions with which his bosom glowed, were -written on his face; and he hitched uneasily in his seat, with that look -of grave displeasure supposed to be peculiar to aggrieved persons. - -The professor, probably seasoned to such rebuffs, soon recovered his -equanimity, and turning to the older scholars, asked, “Cannot _you_ give -me a satisfactory answer? Come! Anyone! What is hydrophobia?” - -Again an answer quivered on Georges lips; but now Charles forestalled -him. Taking his cue from the gum-chewer, Charley said, “Excuse me, sir, -but you addressed the little folk, and we, quite politely, left it for -them to answer. We know what it means, sir. Hysterphostia is a sort of -influenza that yellow dogs catch when they’re fed on too much picnic -victuals and spoilt molasses. Then they’re turned loose, with tin cans -on their tails, for policemen to shoot at; and everybody that sees them -rushing along the street is sure to inhale quinine hyster--” - -At this point the speaker’s voice was drowned by roars of laughter from -the astonished and delighted boys and girls, and he sat down “amid -thunders of applause.” - -They, at least, appreciated his absurd reply, his pretended ignorance, -and his unblushing effrontery in thus wantonly insulting the august -professor. They had evidently taken a dislike to the scientific -gentleman, who was altogether too knowing for them, and, idiot-like, -rejoiced to see him thus grossly insulted. - -The teacher looked stern and furious, and endeavored in vain to stop the -hubbub. Was his noble patron to be thus shamefully treated by a mob of -ignorant and good-for-nothing school-children, supposed to be under his -training and control? Must not the offenders be made to smart for it? - -The professor himself was electrified. However, he had too much -self-respect to regard anything that a school-boy might say, and after -shooting Charles a look of calm contempt, he resumed his discourse, and -proceeded to enlighten Teacher Meadows’ brazen-faced blockheads. He spoke -long and earnestly on all things relevant to canine madness, and mad -dogs, and at length ventured to propose another question. - -“What should you do,” he asked, “if a mad dog should burst into this -apartment--his bloody eyes starting from their sockets--his mouth -wide open, reeking with its lethal venom, and disclosing his cruel, -hideous fangs--he himself dashing headlong hither and thither, in his -ungovernable fury remorselessly laying low victim upon victim--we -ourselves imprisoned here, utterly unable to extricate ourselves?--Ah! -you may well shudder at the frightful picture! I forbear. But I repeat, -what should you do? Boys and girls, listen:-- - -“All that is necessary is sufficient presence of mind, together with -firm reliance on your nerves, and you will always be able to face and -avert the most appalling dangers. And this is the precept that I wish to -impress upon you: _Strive to acquire the habit of self-reliance, for no -habit is more important._” - -“Yes, yes, boys and girls; mark that; always remember that precept;” good -Teacher Meadows cried, rising from his seat, and smiling approval. - -But the darkened intellect of the juveniles could not take in the weight -of such a precept, and a faint murmur of resentment passed from mouth to -mouth. In the momentary interruption that ensued, Steve, who sat near -an outside door, rose and slipped out quietly. “I guess I’ll show the -professor and the rest of the folks what a _rabid canine_ is like!” he -chuckled sardonically. - -But the scene still lies within the school-house. - -The professor was in earnest, and he certainly seemed capable of making -personal application of his precepts, though, alas! he had never been put -to the test! - -“What should you do in such an emergency?” he again demanded. - -But he did not wish for an answer, and now he had the goodness to tell -the gaping children what he should do. “Without a moment’s deliberation,” -he said, “I should, almost mechanically, muster my strength, and prepare -to ward off the danger. Knife in hand, I should calmly await his -murderous onslaught, and when almost upon me I should disarm his fury by -ruthlessly stabbing him to the heart.” - -To add force and illustration to his words, and to gain credit with his -hearers, the orator whipped out of his pocket a treasure of a knife,--a -knife, the possession of which would have shot a thrill of happiness -through any understanding boy’s heart,--and brandished it wildly, yet -gracefully, slaying myriads of imaginary mad dogs. - -Certainly, he seemed master of the situation; but in an actual attack of -a mad dog he might have experienced some difficulty in getting his knife -out of his pocket, and opened, in time. - -But where was the professor’s dignity? Why should he make himself -ridiculous for the pastime of idiotic school-children? - -Although his spirit revolted at the thought of thus sacrificing himself, -yet his benevolence prompted him to do many strange things for the -instruction of the ignorant; and on this occasion, he labored not to -amuse, but to discipline them. - -“Most magnanimous soul! most disinterested savant!” breaks in the reader, -struck with admiration for our noble-minded professor. - -But when an audible titter ran round the company, the philanthropist -hastily pocketed his weapon. Not to be turned from his purpose, however, -he resumed his discourse, and artfully harrowed up the feelings of his -victims, pausing occasionally to pronounce, and amplify on, some wise and -weighty precept. - -Teacher Meadows nodded his approbation; the tired school-children became -restless and thirsty; their feet went to sleep; they rolled their watery -eyes pleadingly. Still the strong-lunged enthusiast continued to hold -forth, seemingly taking a malicious pleasure in preying upon their -emotions. - -Suddenly a distracted boy beheld an object that utterly demoralized him. -A piercing shriek of agony burst from his lips, and his eye-balls gleamed -like those of an ambushed highwayman. - - - - -_Chapter XII._ - -AN EXTRAORDINARY MAD DOG. - - -It is now in order to follow up giddy-headed Stephen, and see what mad -plot had been hatched in his fertile brain. - -By turning back a little way, the reader will find that that hero left -the audience-chamber immediately after the professor had so vividly drawn -the onslaught of an imaginary mad dog. - -“It would serve the crazy old shouter right to test his courage,” -he muttered. “What business have people to let such a man speak to -chicken-hearted little young-muns, all full of weak nerves, and awful to -bellow? He might scare some of ’em into fits! I know I’m fond of ‘boorish -tricks,’ as George calls them; but if Charley can talk that way about -hydrophobia and yellow dogs, I guess I can safely play this one nice -little trick. Why, this would only be in the interests of common sense! -And,” cheerfully, “_how Jim would yell!!!_” - -Stephen’s mode of reasoning was exceedingly subtile--in fact, like the -speech of the philosopher on whom he contemplated playing a trick, it -is too subtile for our comprehension. But so long as it removed his -scruples, he cared not a goose-quill what others might think. - -“Now,” he said to himself, “let me strike out my plans. First is, to find -my dog Tip; then, to white-wash him and paint him. But,” doubtfully, -“I’m afraid I can’t get any white-wash or any paint. Anyway, it would be -better and more natural if I could get him on the trail of some animal. -Poor Tip! It’s too bad to treat him so; but then it won’t hurt him any, -and if the professor keeps on working up their feelings, I guess there’ll -be a stunning howl when Tip bounces into the room, the very picture of a -‘rabid canine’!” - -If Steve had tarried a little longer in the school, and seen the -professor as he flourished his murderous weapon, he would have thought -better of having Tip play the mad dog. - -Hurrying along through the school-grounds, he finally halted under -a venerable and wide-spreading shade-tree, beloved by all the girls -and boys of the school. There before him, rolled up in a ball, lay a -vivacious-looking dog, sleeping soundly. - -“Eh, Tip!” Steve said. “Good old boy! here you are, just as I hoped.” - -At the first words the dog hopped up briskly, and began to caress his -master, frisking and barking to express his delight, and disporting -himself as only a pet dog can. - -It is conjectured that our young readers may be curious to know what -species of dog this was. Alas! it is impossible to inform them. Neither -his master Stephen nor any other person in the village could affirm -positively to what particular species Tip belonged, but all agreed that -he was a dog of some sort. This much, however, is known concerning -him: He was of medium size and of divers colors, black and white -predominating, a universal favorite with all the heroes and heroines of -this history. - -“Eh, Tip, are you glad to see me? Shall we have some sport? What do you -say to a run in the road?” - -By way of answer, the dog seized his master’s pants with his sharp teeth, -and tugged playfully at them, his way of angling for sport. - -“I guess you’ll do, Tip. You’ve got lots of fun in you, if I can keep you -going;” and Steve swung open the gate of the school-grounds and passed -out with a chuckle, Tip hard at his heels. - -Then this giddy-headed boy and his unsuspecting dog turned a corner -of the fence, found themselves in a dusty and unfrequented lane, and -prepared for action. - -“Now, Tip,” said the young rascal, “if we can make you run up and down -this lane till you get all covered with dust, and dirt, and slobber, our -fortune’ll be made! Come on, Tip; we shan’t need any white-wash nor any -paint. Eh, Tip?” - -Going on a little farther, till they reached the river, this wicked -boy incited his dog to plunge headlong into the water after sticks and -stones. Then, returning to the lane, he urged the wet dog to course up -and down in the midst of the dust--sometimes after sticks, sometimes -after himself. The playful dog enjoyed the sport, and entered into it -fully. Soon he presented a woful appearance, but Steve unpityingly -spurred him on till he began to pant hard. - -“Good!” cried he. “Pant away, Tip, and get yourself well covered with -slobber. That’s it! Run, now,--fetch him, Tip; go for him. There, roll in -the dust!” - -Thus he continued, till the poor dog was fagged out. Then Stephen, even -Stephen, relented, and thought seriously of giving up his proposed -experiment. - -But, ah! the reason was-- - -“I’m afraid, Tip, that if you _run_ back to school, you’ll be too tired -to scare them much, and if you _walk_ back, you’ll lose most of your foam -and slobber. And perhaps we might be too late, anyhow. Upon my word,” he -cried suddenly, “I never planned how I am to get you into the building! I -can’t go with you, and you can’t get in alone!” - -In his indecision, Stephen retraced his steps to the gate of the -school-grounds, opened it, and with his eyes tried to measure the -distance from that place to the castellated school-house--Tip, meanwhile, -recovering his strength and sportiveness. - -On a sudden, Fate interposed in the form of a muscular and war-worn cat, -which appeared leisurely crossing the school-grounds. Tip saw it, and -forgetting his weariness, furiously gave chase. - -“Sic it, Tip! Sic it!” cried Steve, who, in the excitement of the moment, -apparently forgot his trick, and eagerly joined in pursuit. - -Tip soon came up with his hereditary enemy, and a frightful combat -ensued. Instinct or the force of habit impelled warlike puss to fight -stoutly for escape, and he rained blows and execrations, (in the cat -language,) that would have done credit to a battle-scarred pirate, upon -his assailant. - -Tip fought because of his “liking for the thing,” and because his master -was pricking him on to victory by such spirit-stirring exclamations as: -“Oh, sic it, Tip! Go for him! Beat ’em! Maul ’em! Sh! sh! sh!” - -Rabid canine and outraged feline! Would that the professor could have -beheld the combat between them! - -Presently the dog, with a piteous howl, ceased to fight, and rubbed his -head vigorously on the ground; whilst the cat, seizing its opportunity, -scampered away towards the school-house. - -“Poor little Tip!” said Steve remorsefully, as he observed that his dog -was reeking with dust, froth, wounds, and _blood_. - -In a moment, however, Tip was up again and in hot pursuit of the -persecuted feline, but, not wishing to risk another engagement, that -redoubtable warrior found refuge somewhere about the school. Not so Tip. -He dashed straight ahead, and made his way into the very room in which -were all the school-children, together with Professor Rhadamanthus and -Teacher Meadows. - -Steve was close on the dogs heels; but on seeing this, he turned back and -shot off in despair. - -“Oh!” he groaned, “this is worse than I meant it to be! Every one’ll -think that Tip is stark staring mad! O dear me! What shall I do! what -shall I do!” - -Tips arrival was most opportune. Thanks to the professor’s vivid imagery, -all the scholars were perspiring with racking excitement, and so -blood-stained an apparition as Tip could not fail to create a commotion. -Tip still retained sufficient strength and agility to burst impetuously -into the room, and the sudden appearance of an animated mass of slaver, -wounds, and blood, was enough to unhinge the mind of any school boy in -the Union. - -There were more than one hundred boys in the school; more than forty -had a stout jack-knife in their left-hand trowsers pocket; more than -thirty had one in their right hand trowsers pocket; some five had both -a penknife and a jack-knife about their person; about twenty phlegmatic -and chuckle-headed cubs--who took only a languid interest in anything but -peppermint candy, circus serpent-charmers, and noisy fireworks--had their -jack-knives out, and were trying to while away the time by rounding off -the sharp angles of their brand-new lesson-books. As for the others, they -had lost their jack-knives on their way to school, and consequently had -none. Alas, professor! your golden precept was lost on those youths! Not -one, _not one_, drew his knife to “stab the beast to its heart.” - -An awful yell of consternation smote upon the air, as the demoralized -and panic-stricken boys and girls struggled to escape. The young ladies -were too prudent to faint, but they screamed with a voice as shrill and -discordant as their brothers’. It fared worst with the little girls, who -were jostled about and shoved aside without ceremony. Not a spark of -gallantry animated the bosom of those youths; each one strove to save -himself, himself only, and took no thought for the weaker and less active -girls. Rough and lubberly boys, in their struggle to escape, brutally -trod hats and bonnets, books and slates, foot-stools and benches, and -school-mates’ toes, under foot. Such commotion had never been known -in that school. Suddenly a boy stepped heavily on the dog, and poor -Tip howled so lustily that he was heard above all the tumult. This, of -course, added to the panic, and a perfect Babel ensued. - -Then, with a roar of horror and agony, a bouncing boy cried out that he -was bitten! - -What wonder that poor Tip should bite, when he was bedewed with grimy -tears of honor, yanked this way and that way, stumbled over, jammed -against desks, pelted now and then with a stone ink-bottle, and trampled -nearly to death? - -At length the apartment was cleared of all save a few. As it has been -emphatically stated that most of the six were brimming with noble -heroism, perhaps it would be better to say nothing about how they -behaved. Let the reader imagine how _he_ would behave under similar -circumstances. - -By the way, it was very rash and foolish in the writer to speak -of their bravery at all; and it has cost him (or her) no little -annoyance--instance chapter the eighth. In fact, on mature deliberation, -the writer recants all that has been said of their bravery. - -As Will was tearing out of the room,--it may be remarked incidentally -that it happened he was almost the last to do so,--Tip hobbled past him -to get out. Quick as thought, Will caught up a heavy chair, and brained -him on the spot. - -“There,” Will said joyously, “the danger is over now; the dog is dead.” -On giving the dog closer examination, he exclaimed, in surprise: “Why, -it’s Steve’s dog Tip! Poor Tip! Surely he wasn’t mad!” - -Meanwhile, where was the great authority on all things in general, rabid -canines in particular? Where was he with his knife? - -At the first note of danger, he, being nearest the front-door, had leaped -to his feet and ingloriously shown his heels; but not being so familiar -with the internal arrangement of the building as he thought, he fell -heavily down the four steps of the entry. The fall stunned him, and for a -few minutes he lay insensible. Where was the wonderful knife that was to -disarm the fury of all mad dogs? Alas! it was safe in his pocket! - -Before the learned man could grapple with the situation and gather -himself up, the horrified school children were swarming out of the door, -and--over him! Awful magnate that he was, not one among them hesitated to -make him a stepping-stone in this time of fancied danger. In fact, the -next day an immoral boy was heard to say that the professor made a better -door-step than speaker; “for,” as he phrased it, “we slid down over him -at top speed, and got outside all the sooner.” - -As for Teacher Meadows, he had perceived that the peroration was at hand; -and when the dog appeared, he was carefully digesting an “extempore” -little speech, in which he intended to express his gratitude to the -learned man for the very lucid and forcible manner in which the absorbing -topic of hydrophobia had been presented to the “students.” But the advent -of the dog diverted the train of his thoughts, and his nice little speech -was never made. After a vain attempt to stem the hubbub and find where -the mad dog was, he followed the example set by the noble speaker, and -hurried out of the school; for, though naturally brave, he saw that it -was useless to remain. - -Although the dog was slain, it was some time before the quaking -children could be brought to understand that the danger past, and when -at last their fears were quieted, it was found that a great many were -missing--among them, the boy who had been bitten. What a startling report -they spread in the village about that mad dog! As may be imagined, the -strange orator’s name was so much mixed up in their incoherent and -“artless” story, that most of the villagers laid all the blame of the -affair on him. - -Let us return to him, the precept-giving sage, the gifted declaimer. As -soon as he recovered himself, and found an opportunity to do so, he made -good his escape--without even making his adieux to Teacher Meadows! He -reached the depot without molestation; but instead of taking the train -for the next seminary, to rant on his darling themes, he took the first -train for his home, in Boston. - -There he lamented the degeneracy of American youth, and trembled for -the integrity of the Union if those boys should ever usurp the right of -running the machinery of government. - -Now, our wondrous-wise philosopher firmly believed the heart to be the -seat of courage. Being aware that he had played the poltroon on the -occasion of the struggle with the “mad dog,” he became alarmed about the -state of that organ, and consulted one of the most eminent physicians of -Boston, who gravely informed him that the left ventricle was affected. - -Hence you perceive, gentle reader, that the professor must not be -censured for deserting his post as he did; for had his heart been in its -normal condition, he would have proved a far more formidable antagonist -to Tip than the pugnacious grimalkin. - -But Teacher Meadows probably suffered most acutely, and he should be -pitied most. Let us return to him. After mustering the remaining school -children, he demanded threateningly. “Can any of you throw any light on -this mysterious affair?” - -There was silence--unbroken, except occasionally, by an hysterical “Ah!” -or “Oh!” from some tender and cream-faced child, who still quaked with -fear. - -Soon Will spoke. “The dog is dead, Mr. Meadows,” he said. “I killed him,” -with boyish pride, “and I don’t believe he was mad at all; for he was -Stephen Goodfellow’s dog.” - -“Oh, the dog is dead? Well, let me see it; where is it?” Mr. Meadows said -eagerly. - -Will led the way to the place where Tip lay dead, and good Mr. Meadows -vainly tried to determine whether the dog had been mad or not. Poor man! -he was better versed in Latin verbs than in “lycanthropy.” - -“Can any one explain this?” he again demanded. “I never before saw a dog -in so pitiable and unnatural a condition, but as to his being mad--” and -he stopped short, nodding his head in great perplexity. - -“I guess I saw him first,” piped up the chubby hobbledehoy who had been -the first to cry out in terror on the dog’s arrival. “I saw him bolt in -through the winder.” - -“You did not!” exclaimed another. “He came in through the door.” - -“I know it; I only said I saw him bolt in through the winder,” -screamed the first speaker, who was blissfully ignorant of syntactical -constructions. - -“Well?”-- - -“Well?” mockingly. “Don’t you wish you’d seen him bolt in, too?” - -“Oh, you!” furiously. - -“Stop that noise!” cried the teacher, authoritatively. “You must say, -‘burst in.’” Then, swelling with pettishness, he said vehemently, “I -demand an explanation! Some one must know how and where this originated.” - -“I can explain it--mostly,” said Jim (our Jim), stepping forward. - -Poor Jim! It had fared hardly with him; for, besides having his weak mind -nearly thrown off its balance, he had been clawed and pommelled cruelly -in his struggles to escape, and was now suffering with an agonizing -attack of his peculiar disease--“the chills.” - -“_You_ can explain it?” said Teacher Meadows. “Then, wherefore have you -withheld your communication so long?” - -He, at least, had profited by the professor’s discourse; he had caught -that long-winded gentleman’s scholastic phraseology. - -“I--I--was afraid to speak; I--I ain’t well;” Jim stammered. - -“Pray begin your version of it,” said Mr. Meadows, with a weary look, -that told of an aching head and a sore heart. - -“Yes, Mr. Meadows,” Jim said hastily. “While Mr. Rhadamanthus was -speaking, I saw Steve slip out of school and go to the far end of the -grounds, where his dog was sleeping; and then they both got up and they -went outside of the gates; but the fence hid them from me, and so I can’t -tell you what they did outside of the gates.” - -Here the narrator paused to take breath, and Teacher Meadows said, -sharply, “Yes, very good; but why didn’t you pay attention to the -speaker? Instead of idly gaping out of the window at a boy and his dog, -why didn’t you listen to that spirited dissertation on hydrophobia, and -assiduously take notes of the learned remarks? So distinguished a speaker -may never visit our town again; and--” - -“Yes, sir,” interrupted Jim, “but if I hadn’t looked out of the window, I -shouldn’t have known how it all happened.” - -Teacher Meadows was nonplussed. With a zigzag wave of the hand, he simply -said, “Resume; I will not argue the point.” - -Jim resumed. “I was sitting by the window, and I watched until they came -back to the gates. They were too far away for me to see what they had -been doing; but I watched, and pretty soon I seen Tip chasing a whopping -big old striped used-up cat like--like--like--” - -“Like _what_?” angrily asked the teacher. - -Jim started, hesitated, and said, desperately, “I don’t know, I’m sure.” - -“Go on!” said the wearied listener, with a sinister frown. - -“Yes, sir. Well, he caught the cat, and they had an awful fight! I expect -Tip got used up in the fight, Mr. Meadows. Then the cat got away--then -Tip chased after it towards the school--and then the next thing I knew, -Tip was right in the school! That’s all I know about it, sir.” - -“A most succinct relation, James,” commented Mr. Meadows, with a reckless -disregard for the rules of grammar as regulated by logic in his octavo -grammar. “But when you knew all about it, why didn’t you warn us in time? -Then this misfortune would not have happened.” - -“I--I was frightened myself, sir,” Jim acknowledged. - -“Where was Stephen? You left him at the gate,” said the teacher. - -“No, sir; I wasn’t with him; I didn’t do anything to him;” Jim said -innocently. - -“I guess he ran off after the fight,” ventured a boy. - -“Here comes Steve now,” a scholar announced. - -And a minute later the boy under discussion hove in sight, but so changed -in appearance that he seemed another boy. Light-hearted and light-headed -Steve was now a haggard, woebegone wretch, who looked as if his -conscience had goaded him over the verge of frenzy. From a distance he -had heard and seen the uproar at the school; and, far from felicitating -himself on the “success” of his trick, he had undergone torments. In -fact, the thought had been forced home to him that there is a higher -purpose in life than that of playing coarse practical jokes, and that he -had frightened the children more than even the orator, Mr. Rhadamanthus. - -Yet the boy had at least one good quality; he was always ready to -shoulder the blame of his misdoings, and he never tried to take refuge by -telling a lie or by distorting the truth. - -“Stephen Goodfellow,” began Mr. Meadows, severely, “let me hear you in -your defence. According to all accounts, _you alone_ are the guilty one; -so give me your version of this scandalous affair.” - -“Yes, sir; I did it all;” Steve said, meekly. “It was my dog Tip; but he -wasn’t no madder than I was.” - -“Then he must have been remarkably sane!” commented the teacher. - -We need not weary the reader by detailing the trickster’s “version.” -When he had rehearsed his story from beginning to end, Teacher Meadows -said, in deliberate and awful tones that cut Steve to the quick, and -fairly made his hair stand on end: “I have a few remarks to make, but I -will not detain you long. Your ‘trick’ may have been strikingly novel -and daring, the inspiration of a genius; but that it was dishonorable -and brutal, unworthy of a citizen of this glorious republic, I presume -no one will attempt to deny. You have created a great sensation in -our peaceful little village, but what you have done will not redound -to your credit; you have forfeited the esteem and friendship of your -school-fellows; you have, I doubt not, mortally wounded the feelings of -Professor Rhadamanthus, the great philosopher and able speaker, as well -as cast opprobrium upon our school; you have terrorized the children, -and even fatal results might have ensued; and by sequestering yourself -from the scene of conflict, you have laid yourself open to the stigma of -cowardliness. Though great harm has been done, I will not punish you, for -the odium of this affair and the prickings of your conscience will be -sufficient punishment. Your dog, the sportive Tip, is dead, as I suppose -you know. You will acknowledge that no one except yourself is to be -blamed for that. But one word more: I advise you all to hasten to your -homes, to try to forget this shameful occurrence, and never to practice -cowardly tricks.” - -Steve did not know that Tip was dead, and he gave a convulsive gasp and -then burst into a flood of tears, for he loved his dog. Poor fellow, -his heart was so full of grief and remorse that his eyes mechanically -pumped the tears cut of their reservoir. And that reproof! His former -misdemeanors had generally been overlooked by the kind-hearted teacher, -and this oratorical reproof stung him to the quick. - -As for the teacher himself, his own eloquence had a wonderfully soothing -effect on him. No one, except a few gaping, trembling school-children, -was there to hear him, it is true; but for all that, he was pleased with -his little speech, and--surprised at it! In fact, it did his headache as -much good as an application of hartshorn and alcohol. - -Fearing, perhaps, that the teacher might change his mind and re-open -school, the juveniles set off for home at a round pace. Steve was not -wholly avoided by the boys; on the contrary, several gathered round him, -to condole with him or to blame him, as the case might be. Not a few -envied him the “notoriety” to which he had attained. - -“Well, Steve, are you a ‘citizen of this republic’ or not?” Charles -anxiously inquired. “I couldn’t settle that point from what Mr. Meadows -said.” - -The unworthy citizen smiled mournfully, but said nothing. - -“Steve,” Charley pursued, “I hope that between the phenomenon Mr. Prof. -Rhadamanthus, yourself, and your dog, the ‘little ones,’ ‘big ones,’ and -every one present, will have a tolerably clear idea of hydrophobia and -mad dogs.” - -“Please don’t speak of Tip, boys,” Steve said pleadingly. - -“No, Steve, we won’t,” George replied. “But really, now,” he added, “I -wasn’t so flurried as the rest of them; and I took it coolly; and I -doubted all the time whether the dog was mad. You see, I’ve read a good -deal on the subject lately, and he hadn’t the build of a dog that would -go mad. Mad dogs always look--” - -At this point the Sage was interrupted by a burst of laughter, in which -even Stephen joined feebly. - -“Then, George, I suppose you understood that lecture?” Will asked. - -“Y-e-s,” George said, with some hesitation. - -“Steve, it was me that killed your dog;” Will said doubtfully. [Though -the writer has heard hundreds of boys say, “it’s me,” “it’s him,” etc., -he never knew but one boy to say, “it is I.” That boy did not say it -because he knew it to be correct, but because necessity compelled him to -do so. The phrase occurred in a sentence which he was reading.] “It was -me that killed your dog; but I thought I was killing a mad dog at the -time. I’m sorry for it, Steve.” - -“No, Will; you did all right: I don’t blame you a bit;” Steve replied. - -“Don’t!” said Marmaduke, softly. “Respect Steve’s grief, and talk about -something else.” - -The excitement in the village was appeased at last; but great indignation -was felt towards Stephen when it became known that he was the author of -it all. - -The poor boy who had been bitten was in great terror, and his parents -sent for the doctor in hot haste. That worthy--who had a theory of -his own about hydrophobia, and was only waiting and longing for an -opportunity to put it into practice--chipperly trod his way to the rescue -with a case of surgical instruments, and was about to perform some -horrible operation on the hapless youth, when the news came that the dog -was not mad. Then he applied a soothing poultice to the bite, and wearily -plodded his way back to his office, full of bitterness because he had not -been able to try his little experiment. - -The bitten boy, however, was of a malicious disposition, and he vowed to -take dire revenge for the indignities heaped upon him. - -Stephen’s position was not one to be envied. He was so thoroughly ashamed -of himself that he latibulized in the house for four livelong days; and, -for a boy of his restless disposition, that was unheard-of penance. What -passed between him and his scandalized parents would not benefit or -interest the reader, consequently it is not recorded here. He mustered -his resolution and took to reading his sisters’ “little books,” which he -had always abhorred and eschewed with the unreasonable and implacable -hatred of boyhood, and gladdened his mother’s heart with his staidness -and meekness. For one whole month he refrained from playing off or -studying up any trick, and those most interested in him began to hope -that his reformation in that respect was sincere. - -Alas! such hopes were built on quicksands! His father, taking pity on the -_dogless_ boy, had bought him a frisky Newfoundland pup, which he cared -for lovingly and almost idolized; and as the memory of poor Tip gradually -faded from his mind, he forgot the many morals and precepts that had -been held up to him by his well-meaning parents. In a merry moment Steve -named this pup “Thomas Henry;” but as this provoked the laughter of his -school-fellows, in sheer desperation he nicknamed it “Carlo.” - -At the end of that one month, the street urchins got tired of teasing -him about mad dogs, and he recovered his spirits and his love of -mischief, and returned to his former pursuits with gusto. In a word, -Stephen became himself again. - - - - -_Chapter XIII._ - -THE SIX GO TO A PICNIC. - - -About this time a picnic was planned by the villagers, to be held in -a grove beside the river. Everything was arranged beforehand, so that -no hitch might occur; but, for all that, a hitch _did_ occur, since -seventeen plum-cakes and five hundred and nine tarts were baked. A fire -was to be lighted on an “island” in the river, and another on the shore; -and over those fires, something, no one could have told exactly what, -was to be boiled. Boats were to be provided to ferry the picnickers to -and from the said island. By the way, this pigmy island was prettily -clothed with grass and flowers, and presented a fine appearance from -the river; therefore, by the poetical, it was appropriately named “The -Conservatory.” It was also roundish in shape, and therefore, from the -vulgar, it received the unique nickname of “The Saucer.” Our heroes -generally gave it the latter name. - -The children of the school, of course, to be present in all their finery, -with their elders in attendance, to keep them from destroying themselves. - -Now, Stephen knew all the plans that had been formed, and it occurred -to him that it would be a capital joke if he should take a bunch of -fire-crackers along with him, and introduce it secretly into one of the -two fires. - -“Of course,” he said to himself, “I wouldn’t poke ’em in while any of the -ladies or little youngsters were around; I’d do it while none but boys -were there. No; for I don’t want to get mixed up in any more tricks!” - -The longer Steve meditated this, the more determined he was to do it; for -he had not yet learned that an action, harmless in itself, may lead to -unpleasant, if not serious, results. - -On the day before the picnic, he applied to a shop-keeper for the -crackers. In vain; the “Glorious Fourth” was passed too long. “But, -to accommodate you, I can get some in a few days, I suppose,” the -shop-keeper said, with great benevolence. “How many bunches do you want?” - -“No, I want them to-day, or not at all;” Steve said, as he turned to leave -the shop. - -But he did not give up hope yet. He thought of Will, and the next minute -was on his way to see him. By what fatality was he sent there? - -“Oh, yes, Steve; I happen to have a whole bunch of them;” said Will. “You -see, I had more than I wanted last Fourth, so I was saving these, but you -can have them all.” - -“Yes,” said Stephen; “but I guess you’re the only boy I ever heard of -that couldn’t fire off all his crackers. Why, I could make use of a -barn-yard full of them!” - -“So could I, Steve; but I scorched my hand, and _had_ to stop firing -them.” - -“Yes, I remember it, Will; that’s the reason I came to you. But I don’t -see why you didn’t fire ’em when your hand got well.” Then to himself: -“Just like Will; wonder he didn’t scorch his head off.” - -“Well, Steve, let us look for those same crackers,” said Will. - -But they had been mislaid, and the two boys conducted the search almost -at random. In length of time they came upon a little wooden box. - -“Here they are, Steve!” Will exclaimed. “This is the very box I put them -in; but I don’t know how they got here, among father’s guns. But then I -wasn’t keeping track of them--in fact, I had forgotten that I had them -till you spoke about them.” - -“Thank you, Will!” said Steve, with a broad grin, as he took the box. - -Then, with thumb and forefinger, he tried to open it, to take out the -crackers and gloat over them. But he could not force it open. “What’s -the matter with this box, Will?” he asked. “I can’t open it at all.” - -“That’s queer,” said Will; “likely the lid has swollen. Well, take them, -box and all, Steve; and if you break it in opening it, it won’t be any -great loss.” - -Steve mumbled a feeble remonstrance, but pocketed the box and turned to -go. - -“But what are you going to do with the fire-crackers?” Will suddenly -asked, as a dread suspicion entered his mind. - -Steve looked disconcerted, and said something like, “Oh, you’ll see.” - -Now, when a boy falters and says, “you’ll see,” it is generally safe to -infer that he is plotting mischief. - -Will evidently thought so, for as Steve whisked out of the house and over -the gate, he said to himself, “I believe Steve is working up some trick -again. And to-morrow is the picnic! Well, Stunner, I’ll just keep an eye -on you!” - -On reaching home, Stephen found that he could not open the box without -tearing it to pieces, and he decided that he would put the fire-crackers, -box and all, into the fire. - -“That’ll be the easiest way to open the pesky old box,” he said. “Of -course the crackers won’t go off till it is burnt, but a rousing old fire -will soon burn it.” - -Having formed this determination, the boy’s mind was at rest. If, -however, he had succeeded in opening the box, he would have found not -fire-crackers, but _gunpowder_; for Will had made another blunder, and -given him a box filled with powder. This box belonged to Mr. Lawrence; -he having bought it a few days before, filled it with powder, and put it -away among his guns. The reader now understands that it was not the box -Will thought it was. The reason why Steve could not open it, was because -the lid caught with a hidden spring. - -If that box should be introduced into the fire, it would make more of -a “stir” than fire-crackers, and give somebody a little employment in -setting things to rights. - -The next day was the picnic. The sun shone bright, and promised a -peerless September day. This was agreeable; and the juveniles flocked -to the scene in good time, with a hungry look in their eyes--a look that -always plays over a boys visage when pursuing his way to a picnic, or -“anniversary.” Stephen, of course, was there; full of animal spirits, and -with the box straining the lining of his coat-pocket. - -A fire was soon lighted on the island, but Steve did not find an -opportunity to put his crackers into it so soon as he expected; for, warm -as the day was, the little boys crowded eagerly around it, discovering -their delight in exultant shouts, and heaping on more brush with -never-ending amusement. - -Steve idled about patiently a few minutes, and then determined to leave -the island for awhile, till the youngsters had either sought some newer -source of pleasure, or else burnt their fingers or scorched their -garments. - -Unknown to Steve, Will, who had guessed how and when the boy intended to -use the fire-crackers, was watching him sharply. Will had also discovered -the mistake that had been made, and consequently was all the more anxious -to keep a watchful eye on Steve. He had planned, moreover, to turn the -tables, and play a knavish trick of his own on incorrigible Stephen. - -Mr. Lawrence had said to him, “Now, Will, seeing that Steve is preying -on my valuables, you must make the best of it, and teach the idleheaded -fellow a lesson. You may do whatever you please; but don’t let an -explosion take place. The powder, I think, got damp the other day, and so -it wouldn’t explode for some time--even if he should drop the box plump -into the fire. In fact, unless he has succeeded in opening it, which is -doubtful, he will probably put it into the fire. Let him do it; you can -snatch it out again. If, on the other hand, he has forced the box open, -both his trick and your trick will be spoiled. Perhaps that would be -best. Now, Will, above all, _do not frighten other people_.” - -It will be seen that Mr. Lawrence had guessed Steve’s intention. -But he was wrong in permitting his son to meddle in the trick. The -straightforward way would have been to tell Stephen what the box really -held, and then he would have given it up directly. - -No doubt, gentle reader, you are tired of these beggarly little “tricks.” -But have patience a little longer, O reader, for when this last trick is -finished, we shall wing our way along smoothly throughout the rest of the -book without any tricks whatever. - -When Will saw Stephen leave “Conservatory Isle” he thought himself at -liberty to take his ease for awhile, and coolly taking possession of an -unoccupied boat, rowed over to the shore. - -While drifting along the shore, a spruce gentleman hailed him, and asked -to be ferried across the river. - -“Yes, sir,” said Will, placing the boat in a favorable position for the -gentleman to enter it. He sprang in lightly, saying, “I’ve forgotten -something over there: take me as fast as you can.” - -In nervous haste to do his best, Will gave the boat a vigorous shove, -and then looked his passenger full in the face. The latter also looked -at Will. The recognition was mutual; for if Will recognized the peculiar -features of the newspaper genius whom he had shot with poison in his -youth, the newspaper genius likewise recognized the remarkably talented -son of the lady who had been his hostess when he visited the neighborhood -some years previously. - -Letting his emotions get the better of his principles, the man uttered a -cry of horror, mechanically rose to his feet, and fetched a random leap -for the shore. But the motion that Will had communicated to the boat -had placed it some distance from the shore, and the impetus of the leap -adding to that distance, the leaper found himself in deep water, in the -exact position the boat had occupied a moment before. Any boy at all -acquainted with the navigation of boats, rafts, or anything floatable, -can substantiate this. - -Then the unfortunate man said something very wicked--too wicked, in fact, -to be set down in a story like this. Then he struggled to reach the -shore, but Will said, politely, “Don’t try to get ashore, sir, or you -will get covered with mud. The best thing to do is to climb into the boat -again; I’ll help you.” - -This was clearly the wiser proceeding of the two, and the man, feeling -very foolish, scrambled out of the water into the boat. - -Bending a ferocious gaze on the innocent boatman, he asked roughly, “Can -you row?” - -Will proudly answered in the affirmative, and the disgusted -picnicker--elaborating a dolorous sigh as he flirted his eyes over his -tousled and mud-spattered garments, and experiencing an emotion of regret -as he thought of a new cabinet photograph of himself, that was tucked -away in his coat-tail pocket--said snappishly:-- - -“Then take me to some sheltered place where I can wring out my clothes a -little, and afterwards I’ll find my way to the fire on the island. Can I -get dry there in peace, and alone?” - -“I think so, after a few minutes,” said Will, tugging stoutly at his oars. - -“Well,” mused the dripping newspaper man, as he sat dejectedly in the -boat, with his head resting on his disordered cravat, “I--I--was very -foolish to jump overboard; but it is strange that I should encounter this -wretch when I least expected it. Much amusement I shall have to-day, in -these wet clothes. Well,” firmly, “I will never return to this village -while this bane of my life inhabits it!” - -After landing the luckless Mr. Sarjent at a sequestered spot, Will -pointed his way back to the island, to look after Stephen. He arrived -just in time. Steve and a choice band of his school-fellows were grouped -about the fire, and the little folk had sought other quarters. - -At first Will feared that he was too late; but he was reassured on seeing -Stephen dodging around the fire, evidently trying to shove the box into -it without being observed. - -Keeping a vigilant look-out, Will soon had the pleasure of seeing Steve -poke the box into the extreme edge of the fire. - -“Good!” Will chuckled. “Pa was right--and so was I. I can snatch it out -without any trouble, and then won’t Steve wonder what has become of it! -Just wait till I play my little trick on him!” - -As soon as Steve looked in another direction, Will sidled up to the fire, -adroitly drew out the box, and slipped it into his pocket. - -He had scarcely done so when Steve whirled around and saw him. - -“Will!” he cried excitedly, “come away, or you’ll be burned!--The--the -fire is very hot, you know,” he added, by way of explaining his -solicitude. - -“So it is,” Will assented, stepping back. To himself he added, “Poor -Steve! you thought I should be blown up by the fire-crackers, did you? -Well, it is a good thing you don’t know it is gunpowder, and it’s a good -thing I am here to prevent a catastrophe!” - -Stephen waited eagerly and anxiously for the supposed crackers to go off. -He imagined that the boys would be struck with amazement and horror to -see the fire suddenly snap, and hiss, and roar, and vomit forth ashes and -coals. Then he would explain how it was done, and the boys would cheer, -and laugh, and say, “That’s a bully trick, Steve!” And then they would -saunter off, filled with admiration and envy, forced to admit that in -originality and daring Steve had no equal in the county. - -But as no explosion took place, Steve became uneasy. He was of a restless -disposition, and a trifle was sufficient to make him fidgety. He had not -observed that the box was fabricated of wood that would not readily take -fire, and he expected to hear the crackers detonate almost immediately. - -“Surely it ought to be burnt clear through by this time!” he mumbled to -himself. “What in the world is the matter? O dear! I hope they will go -off before the people come here to see to things! Why didn’t I at least -see how thick the pesky box was!” - -“Oh, come along, boys, there’s no fun here, and it’s as hot as -pain-killer,” an owl-eyed booby exclaimed. “Come along, boys; let’s leave -this here Saucer.” - -The others coincided with him, and they were actually getting into an old -boat, to punt their way across the river, when Steve said imploringly, -“Oh, don’t go, boys! Stay just a little longer, and you’ll see sport.” - -“‘See sport’?” sneered one. “Sho! I guess all the ‘sport’ you’ll see -here, will be to see yourself sun-struck! No; it’s too hot here.” - -And before the trick-player could give them a hint as to what the “sport” -would be, he experienced the vexation of seeing them leave the island in -a body! It was hard to be cheated thus! But the worst was yet to come. A -man was descried rapidly drawing near the island, in a gay little boat -decked in holiday attire. A few minutes later this man made the island, -and Steve recognized Mr. Lawrence. Good man, he came to see that the -powder was in safety. - -Will, who was the only one left, except Steve, stepped into the boat as -his father stepped out, and whispering, “All right, Pa,” rowed lightly -away, with a wicked chuckle of triumph. - -Mr. Lawrence inclined his head in token of approval, and edged his way -up to Stephen. “Good morning, Stephen,” he said. “I see you have a fire -lighted early in the day.” - -“Yes, sir,” Steve quavered. “O dear!” he groaned, “if people are going to -keep on coming here like this, the fire-crackers will go off right before -them! And then,” drawing an abysmal sigh, “there would have to be an -explanation.” - -Mr. Lawrence walked round the fire two or three times--so close to it -that poor Steve shuddered. “If they should go off now,” he groaned, “Mr. -Lawrence would be scorched and hurt!” - -Stephen became very uneasy. His heated imagination magnified the power of -fire-crackers, and he feared that there would ultimately be a deafening -explosion. Indeed, it seemed to him that they must be gaining strength -with each succeeding minute. - -“Well, Steve,” said Mr. Lawrence, familiarly and pleasantly, “I hear you -are quite an expert in playing tricks. Your adventure with my donkeys, -now, was amusing, it is true; but, Steve, if you would keep clear of such -scrapes, it would be better for you. For instance, that experience with -the dog--that must have been very distressing to you, wasn’t it?” - -“Yes, sir,” Steve acknowledged; “it was.” - -“But I am pleased to hear of your good behaviour since that time, and I -hope that your reformation is real. I do not wish to vex you, Steve; I -take the liberty of speaking to you thus because I know you are good at -heart, and because you have always been a loyal friend to my son.” - -Such “advice” had been dinned into the sufferer’s ears so incessantly -lately that he had come to expect it and to endure it with fortitude. -Still, he could not but see that Mr. Lawrence meant well, and he mumbled -“Yes, sir,” very meekly. - -But his mind was filled with great dread. “If they should pop off now,” -he ruminated, “what would Mr. Lawrence think of me? He would think it was -all my doings, of course, and that I am as bad a boy as ever! How mad he -would be! Oh, why didn’t I leave those fire-crackers alone!” - -“It is very warm on this island, Mr. Lawrence,” he said. - -Mr. Lawrence, however, was in no humor to take hints from a school-boy, -and he simply said, “So it is, Stephen. Why do you stay here, in solitude -and misery? Why don’t you get up and enjoy yourself with the other boys? -Surely you find no amusement in keeping up this useless little fire!” - -Steve looked confused, but contrived to say, “It needs some one to watch -the fire, sir; it might do a great deal of harm.” - -“Oh, no, Stephen; it wouldn’t be any great loss if the fire should burn -up the whole island, and all the brush and firewood piled up on it. It -couldn’t spread any farther, of course. Come, come, Stephen; don’t make a -martyr of yourself by staying here and broiling your face. The face looks -better bronzed by the sun and the fresh air than by fire, anyway; though -some ladies are not aware of it.” - -“Yes, sir; but the fire might go out.” - -“I wish it would, Steve; I wish it would; for no one would light it -again. It was a downright shame to make a fire on this little gem of an -island; but some picnickers have more romance than poetry. Well, I am -going, anyway; good-bye.” - -A good look at Steve’s face showed Mr. Lawrence that the graceless -trickster desired to be left alone. “I think this will be a lesson to the -poor boy,” he said in himself “for he is evidently suffering torments.” - -Steve’s relief was great when he found himself alone. “Let me think how -it was,” he muttered. “Will didn’t know where the box was. He found a box -like his own, but was it the same? He didn’t open it, and I couldn’t; so -perhaps there were no fire-crackers in it, after all!” - -A gleam of hope shot through his wrung heart; but that gleam was soon -effectually put out by this appalling thought: - -“He found the box among his father’s guns--what if there is powder in it!” - -He started up in horror. “But no,” he reflected, “if it had been powder, -it would have exploded as soon as the box got hot, or on fire. Now, was -Will playing a trick on me? No, for he didn’t know anything about it till -I asked him for the fire-crackers; and I followed him around while he -looked for the box. Oh, it must be some blunder of his.” - -Steve could not shake off his doubts and fears, and his excited -imagination conjured up all sorts of horrors. - -He had just resolved to find the hateful box, or scatter the fire to the -several winds, when a melancholy-looking individual, whose approach he -had not perceived, landed on the island, made his way hurriedly to the -fire, and sat down close beside it. - -Stephen drew back in desperation, while the new-comer snatched up a stick -and savagely stirred up the rather dull fire. - -“Sir,” Stephen began hesitatingly, “don’t sit so close to the fire; you -might get burnt.” - -“Hold your tongue and let me alone, if you please! Can’t you see I’m all -wet?” fiercely shouted the new-comer. - -Stephen now observed that the man’s pants were clinging unnaturally -close to his legs, as though he had been fording the river for scientific -or other purposes, and that his entire appearance was woebegone. He -waited a few minutes, and then ventured to accost the intruder again. -“This is a miserable fire, sir,” he said, “and I think there is a good -big bright one on shore.” - -“_Can’t_ you let me alone! There is no one here except _you_, and I -_must_ dry these clothes.” - -“If it’s powder, I suppose it might explode yet, and he’d be killed or -badly wounded,” Steve thought, in agony. “Shall I tell him? No, he would -laugh at me, and take me for a downright fool. If he would only move -away, I’d poke that fire till I was satisfied. What a day of suffering -this has been for me! The women will soon be coming to the island--if it -should explode then!” - -Once more he warned the shivering picnicker. “Sir,” beseechingly, “it is -dangerous to sit there; I--” - -“Dangerous!” cried the stranger, his face showing surprise and contempt. -“Do you take me for an ass, or are you one?” furiously. “A few years ago, -I was very indulgent in my dealings with boys; but the more I see of this -evil--this curse of civilization--the more impatient and exasperated -I become. I don’t want to corrupt your morals, bub, or I would swear! -But say one word more to me, throw out any more insinuations about this -fire’s being dangerous, and I will begin the assassination of every boy -under twenty by making you the first victim! So, be careful! I tell you, -my patience is exhausted!” - -Of course the reader recognizes the speaker as the man who jumped -out of Will’s boat. But it will not be easy to recognize him as the -polished gentleman who dined with Mr. and Mrs. Lawrence in days gone by. -Nevertheless, we assure the reader that we are positive he is the very -same. - -This murderous threat seemed to amuse and comfort Mr. Sarjent, but Steve -quailed beneath it. “Shall I make a confidant of any one?” he asked -himself. “Not of George, for he would investigate matters, and maybe get -burnt. Charley would tell me the box holds some horrible, new-fangled -explosive, that will stay in the fire a long time, and get stronger and -stronger, and then go off like a blowed-up pirate, and tear this island -out by the roots! Perhaps it is! Who knows? Perhaps its some terrible -poison that will suddenly strike us all dead, or else make us all idiotic -for life! Oh! I shall go crazy! Shall I speak to Will? I--I’d be ashamed -to do that. Pshaw! I couldn’t speak to anybody, if I would, for there’s -no one near, except _him_.” - -Stephen’s brain was now in a whirl; the strain on his nerves was too -great to last long. - - - - -_Chapter XIV._ - -DISASTER RATHER THAN FUN - - -Leaving the newspaper man and the player of tricks to their different -trains of thought,--the former enveloped in steam arising from his pants, -the latter environed with gloom, and doubt, and mute despair, arising -from his own misdeeds,--we shall shift the scene to Will paddling away in -his boat. - -“I can safely leave Steve now, while I look up Charley and the other -boys,” Will thought, as he plied his oars. - -Charley was soon found, and Will told him all about Stephen and the -fire-crackers. Charley, of course, was delighted with Will’s artifice; -and together the two planned to torment poor Stephen still further. -With the co-operation of the other boys, they determined to execute the -following programme: First, to bury the gunpowder under a large stone, -on the shore farthest from the picknickers, with a boy in charge to fire -the train at the proper time; secondly, to lure Stephen into a boat, row -him down past the “arsenal,”--the sounding name Charles gave to the place -where the powder was to be buried,--and when the explosion took place, -let him infer that a catastrophe was the upshot of his trick. - -In fiendish atrocity, this little plot probably outherods anything ever -planned by boys. Their only hopes of success was that Steve would prove -an easy victim. But they need not have been afraid; they were destined to -carry their scheme. - -Truly, as the ancient Romans used to say, “Fortune favors the brave.” -Only, the ancient Romans probably said it in Latin. - -“We can do it, Will,” Charles said, confidently, “and it will do poor -deluded and misguided Stunner a good turn, if it teaches him to leave -tricks to you and me. All that is necessary is, to lay our plans well, -keep Steve’s back to the place where the explosion will come from, and -play our parts with sober and horrified faces. The hole in the ground -will be gazed at and admired about the time the picnic folks get the -feast spread, and our little game will sharpen our appetites like a -whet-stone. Now, let us go and find George, and Jim, and Marmaduke, and -go to work.” - -These worthies were hunted out forthwith; and when the plot was unfolded -to them, they signified their readiness to take part in so good a trick -against Stephen. - -Jim threatened to do his best; but, in his own mind, determined to keep -at a safe distance when proceedings actually began, though he locked this -wise determination in his breast--which was capacious enough, if not -strong enough, to keep it. - -“It won’t amount to much, boys,” George observed, “because, you know, wet -gunpowder has lost most of its virtue.” - -“Why, how’s that?” Charles demanded. “Where did you find out that? Why, -gunpowder hasn’t any virtue, anyhow.” - -“No, of course not, what has powder to do with virtue?” Will chimed in. - -“I tell you it has; don’t contradict folks that know!” the sage -indignantly retorted. “Don’t you remember, John Hoyt, on that island, -wasn’t afraid of being blown up, because he knew the powder had lost its -virtue?” - -“Y-e-s,” Charles reluctantly assented, “but I never could understand how -John knew that, when he’d always lived on that island, and never seen or -heard of powder before.” - -“I don’t understand that, either,” said George; “but John was right; he -knew--or if he didn’t, the man that wrote the book did!” - -That settled the question; the Sage had triumphed. - -At length everything was arranged to the plotters’ satisfaction, and the -Sage was detailed to fire the train. - -“You won’t see much of the fun, George,” said Charles; “but you will -understand the business. I never knew you to bungle anything; don’t -bungle this.” - -“You can’t expect much from wet gunpowder, but if you do your part as -well as I intend to do mine, _all right_!” George replied with spirit. - -They picked out a very good place to fire the powder, so far away from -the scene of the picnic that no one would be likely to intrude on them. - -“The boats are wanted very much just now,” said Will; “I wonder whether -we can get one or not.” - -Now, those boys knew that they were doing wrong, and the writer ventures -to assert that they all cherished a secret hope that they would not -succeed in carrying their little game. - -But presently a bulky old gentleman (bulky is not used in contempt, -but because it is well known that bulkiness and generosity are twin -brothers), who owned a staunch little boat, told them to use his boat -as much as they pleased. He did not suspect, however, that a party of -dare-devil boys wanted it for their own exclusive use, but supposed that -one or two of them purposed rowing indolent pleasure-seekers up and -down the river. Had he guessed their nefarious designs, he would have -moderated his generosity, and set out in quest of a peace-officer. - -Thus put in possession, the four pulled stoutly for the island. They -were in some doubt as to whether Steve would still be there, for not one -dreamed that he had taken the matter so much to heart. - -“Steve was a little uneasy when I left him,” said Will; “how do you -suppose he feels about it now?” - -“Oh!” said Charles, “he’s all right, I’ll wager. You may depend he hasn’t -been moping over those fire-crackers all this time. No, he’s as lively as -a baulky horse by this time; but our explosion will muddle his wits, all -the same.” - -“He’ll get his dander up when he finds it out,” Jim observed. - -“I wonder if the boats are all gone, and he’s fast on the island,” -Marmaduke speculated. - -“Boys,” said Will, “if that wet and muddy fellow that I told you about, -went back to the island, as he said he should, perhaps he has kept Steve -from finding out that--” - -“Pshaw! I tell you, Steve is all right!” Charles reiterated. - -“Then, if the boy is all right, what is the use of our trick?” Will -demanded. “We can’t scare him worthy a cent, if he’s all right.” - -“I don’t make out what you’re driving at, Will. At first, you were eager -to scare him; and now, you are talking in riddles.” - -“I--I’m beginning to relent,” said Will, sheepishly. - -“Well, we’ll see how he is, and settle that accordingly.” - -“There they are!” said Marmaduke, sighting Steve and the ireful newspaper -genius. - -The boys recklessly waved their oars, and enthusiastically chorused a -stentorian hollo. - -Stephen, hearing his schoolfellows’ greeting, quickly turned round, and -returned a faint, but joyous, hollo. - -“How kind they are to come!” he said to himself. “Now, I guess it will be -all serene; for they can soon tell me what to do. Well, the boys always -were better to me than I deserved. I’ll tell them just how it is, and I -don’t believe they’ll laugh at me a bit.” - -“More boys!” groaned the steaming Mr. Sarjent. “More boys coming to -torment me.” - -The plotters soon landed, and crowded around Stephen. - -“What a fire, Steve,” said Charley. “It smells as if you’d been burning a -witch.” - -“Come on, Steve,” said Will; “we’ve got a good boat, and we’re off for a -cruise before they set the tables.” - -Steve’s face brightened, then clouded, and he said, hopelessly, “I can’t -go.” - -“Can’t go?” echoed Charley. “Why, Stunner, what’s the matter with you? -You look like a phantom, and here you sit, like an Indian idol; taking no -exercise, having no fun, and doing nothing! Come now, you’ve got to go -with us.” - -“Charley,” Steve whispered, “don’t joke with me, nor make fun of me, for -I can’t stand it. Charley, if you should have some old fire-crackers done -up in a box, and you should put ’em into a fire, what do you suppose they -would do?” - -“Do?” said Charley. “Why, if they were _old_, as you say, they might be -mildewed, for all you or I know, and burn up with the box, like so much -solid wood--or else squib and hiss a little, and then go out.” - -This novel and striking idea was too much for Steve’s fevered brain. -Mildewed fire-crackers! His head swam; but with an effort he recovered -himself, and flashed Charles such a look of gratitude that the plot came -within an inch of crumbling into a woeful ruin. - -“Poor fellow!” thought Charles. “Here he is fretting about those crackers -yet! It is mean to play this trick on him, when he is so worried and -excited. But then he is _male-spirited_, as my father says, and I know he -would like to get hold of as good a trick himself.” - -“Well, Steve, will you go?” Will asked impatiently. - -“’Pon my word, I believe Steve has been afraid to get into a boat ever -since we were out on the lake!” Jim exclaimed maliciously. - -“Don’t stay on _my_ account, bub,” sneered the man in the water-soaked -garments. “I shall not be lonely without you.” - -Stephen had been recovering his spirits ever since the boys arrived; and -Jim’s taunt roused him to anger, while these last outrageous words stung -him to the quick. - -“Bub!” he repeated to himself. “That’s twice he called me _bub_! I can’t -stand being called that; I never knew a boy that could. Botheration! -I’ve a great mind to go with them, after all! _They_ will treat me well, -and not bother me, nor call me--no, I won’t say that horrid word again. -Well, surely, whatever was in the box, is burnt up now!” - -Seeing that Stephen still hesitated, Mr. Sarjent took in the situation, -bent a gorgon look on him, and again acted the huffer. “I made a -blood-curdling threat a while ago,” he said; “I see I shall have to put -it into execution, or else you will have to leave. Go, all of you!” - -“My stars, Timor! I’ll show you whether I’m afraid to get into that boat, -or to do anything else!” Steve cried, in desperation. - -Then he caught up a stick and thrust it into the fire here and there, -in spite of the peevish and browbeating stranger’s remonstrances. Of -course he saw nothing of the box. Though not quite satisfied,--for it was -impossible to get entirely over his uneasiness so quickly,--he stopped -with a sharp-- - -“Boys, I’ll go!” - -Jim, as recorded above, had no burning desire to go with the boys; but, -for all that, he found himself in the boat, and the boat on its way from -the island. Then he became alarmed, but seeing no help for it, determined -to make the best of it. Two facts are well-established: first, he who -accuses another of cowardice is commonly a downright coward himself; -second, no right-minded boy can be called a coward without doing some -foolhardy thing to prove the contrary. - -Poor Steve! The artful boys had quietly had him sit with his face towards -the island, and he stole uneasy glances towards it, as if still fearing -an explosion. By degrees he became calmer; the fresh, sparkling water -revived him; and at length he became even merry. Yet his gaiety was more -assumed than real, though the others did not know it. They were delighted -with the success of their plot, and thought that he would be as pleased -as anybody when the shock of the explosion should be over. - -“Let me row,” he said suddenly. - -“No, no!” Charles said hastily. “We are going to give you a free ride, -Steve; so, sit where you are, with your back against the gunwale, and -watch the picnickers.” - -Steve complied with this request, little knowing why it was made. - -The boat glided along smoothly and swiftly, and presently a bend in the -river hid the island from sight, and soon afterwards the merry-makers. -Stephen still lolled comfortably in the same position. But as the -distance between them and the island increased, he became restless again. - -They were now approaching the falls, and would soon be opposite to George -and his mine--the “arsenal,” as Charley called it. - -Charley was afraid that Stephen might ask embarrassing questions about -the fire-crackers, or their course, and he kept up so lively a flow of -conversation that the poor boy could not edge in a word. - -It was downright cruelty to humbug the boy in this deliberate and -underhand way, and we do not wish to palliate their guilt. The reader, -however, must bear in mind that these boys are not the sinless and -noble-hearted youths who generally figure in stories, but are at all -times mischievous, though rarely cruel or wicked. - -As they neared the falls, Charles suddenly ceased to talk, and Steve -seized the opportunity to ask eagerly, “Will, can you tell me what was in -that box? I almost concluded that some mistake had been made, and that -perhaps you had found it out since. _Were_ they fire-crackers?” - -Will answered hesitatingly, as though ashamed of himself: “Why, yes, -Steve, sure enough, a mistake was made. This morning I discovered that -instead of fire-crackers, I gave you a box of my father’s, full of wet -gunpowder.” - -Steve’s face blanched. Not being so learned as George, it seemed to him, -in his present state of mind, that wet gunpowder must be more dangerous -than any other kind. - -“That’s why it didn’t go off; but, if it’s there, it will go off yet!” he -muttered. - -Will observed the look of dismay on the boy’s face, and said soothingly, -“Pshaw, Steve! Don’t be frightened; _wet gunpowder_ has no virtue; don’t -trouble about it or the fire.” - -Charles and Will, having thus eased their conscience, and Steve’s -anxiety, felt that all the warning that duty required had been given; and -unshipping their oars, let the boat drift with the stream--taking care, -however, to keep close to the bank where George lurked in ambush. - -But Stephen, in his awakened uneasiness, did not heed Will’s comforting -remark, nor did he wonder how Will could know anything about what had -been done with the box. - -“Boys, we’re near the falls!” Jim cried, in terror. “Stop the boat!” - -But this warning was disregarded, and Charley struck up “Yankee Doodle,” -the signal agreed upon with George. - -Stephen, of course, did not know what this meant; but Jim did, and he was -oppressed with gloomy forebodings. - -Mark this: Stephen faced the _right_ bank of the river, while George -was on the _left_ bank. The island was hidden by a bend in the river. -Consequently, if an explosion should take place, Stephen would naturally -jump to the conclusion that it had taken place on the island. - -The boat slowly but steadily neared the falls. It certainly would have -been prudent to stop their downward course, but no one, except Jim, -appeared to be aware of this. Charley whistled bravely, though he -wondered why no sign came from George, whom the high bank, fringed with -bushes, effectually concealed. - -Then the archplotters themselves became uneasy; and concluding that the -powder had no virtue whatever they shipped their oars in mournful silence. - -What was George doing meanwhile? As soon as the boys left him, he set -about digging his mine. “Now,” he mused, “I shall not be so foolish as -Stephen; I shall pry the box open, and see what is in it. It may be only -a paint box, for all I know.” - -By means of his jack-knife he forced off the lid, and found that it was -powder--genuine powder--perfectly dry. But alas! the tried and trusty -business blade of his knife was snapped off short! - -Now, as the reader knows, George was a philosopher, and he took his good -fortune and mishap philosophically. “By the end of the week,” he said, “I -may be sorry about this knife, but I can’t be now!” - -Then, picking up and gloating over the box: “Dry as the sun! How capital! -Won’t I make the most of it! But what a blundering family those Lawrences -are! Even Mr. Lawrence himself has made a mistake; he thought the powder -had got wet. Well, they beat all the folks to blunder that I ever saw; it -must run in the family.” - -With a chuckle of ineffable satisfaction, he sat down to map out his mode -of procedure. “I understand how to make the most of good gunpowder,” he -mused; “what fun it would be to have a loud explosion--one that would -stun even Will and Charley! I can do it, _and I will_!” - -He arose and began to work as only a boy whose mind is bent on mischief -can work, gathering up heaps of stones and rubbish; that soiled his -picnic clothes, almost beyond restoration. Then he laid the box of powder -in the bottom of his mine, placed a heavy stone on the wrenched-off lid, -and piled the accumulated stones and rubbish over it so scientifically -that a warlike explosion would be a foregone conclusion. The “train” was -very simple--only a little pile of chips, twigs, and shavings, and a -cotton string that led down to the powder. - -When he heard the signal, he set fire to the train; but it took the fire -some time to burn its way down to the powder. In his anxiety to see -whether it would ignite, he neglected to place sufficient space between -himself and his mine; therefore--but the consequence may be guessed; it -is sufficient to say that he was neither killed nor seriously wounded. - -Charles and Will had taken only a few strokes with the oars, when -suddenly a tremendous explosion took place. With a roar like that of St. -George’s Dragon the mine had sprung, and a cloud of stones and sundry -other things rushed up into the air, only to descend with fury on the -surrounding regions. Its effects were startling. Charles and Will were -wholly unprepared for such a finale, and their faces showed the liveliest -amazement as they stared blankly at each other, struck dumb with -consternation. - -Before they had time to think, the stones came whistling down all around -them--the larger ones striking the water with a heavy and sonorous -thud--the smaller ones singing and hissing like bullets. - -There was no help for it; they were obliged to sit still and take their -chances. Jim screamed himself black in the face, while Marmaduke vainly -attempted to realize grandeur or romance in their perilous situation. -Poor Stephen! with a ghastly face he kept his seat, apparently unable to -move or speak. - -All excepting Stephen escaped injury. He, poor fellow, had his arm broken -by a falling piece of stone. The boat, however, did not come off so well; -two stones bored two large holes through the bottom of it. - -The water poured in through these holes, and Jim, boohooing and fearing -he knew not what, jumped overboard. This roused the two plotters, Charles -and Will, and they shouted, “The oars are gone--we can’t row! Jump out -and swim for the shore, or we’ll all be taken over! Come, Steve, _don’t_ -be frightened; _don’t_ mind. We did it all, Steve; we did it, and George -fired it.” - -But Stephen’s brain was in a whirl, and he did not understand them. - -“Save Jim! He’ll be too frightened to swim,” Will cried. “Steve and -Marmaduke can swim well enough. Hurry! we’re near the falls!” - -Will and Charles sprang out of the boat for Jim, grappled him, and, -after a violent struggle with the current, towed him ashore, safe, but -perilously near the brink of the falls. All three had nearly been swept -over! Marmaduke joined them a moment later. They did not know that -Stephen’s arm was broken, and believing that he was safe on shore above -them, their first thought was for George. - -“Oh! he must have been blown to atoms!” Will groaned. - -His agony far exceeded Stephen’s on the island--in fact, the tables had -been turned in an unlooked-for manner. - -“Yes, we must see about him,” said Charles, with pale face and unsteady -voice, a gnawing pain in the region of his heart--a sensation that is -experienced only when a person is strongly moved. - -Scrambling up the bank, they saw George--bruised and bleeding, but -looking supremely happy--peering into a jagged hole in the ground. - -“Hallo, George!” Will called out. “Are you hurt?” - -“Oh, a little,” said George. “Yes,” he added, “I--I’m pretty sore.” - -“We were afraid you were destroyed.” - -“Well, I never thought of the stones flying about so; I only thought of -the noise;” George avowed. “But,” with a self-satisfied smile, “how did -you like it?” - -“Like it?” said Charles. “Why, it was awful! I’d no idea that gunpowder -is such strong stuff: this must have been pretty virtuous, after all!” - -“Well, boys, I opened the box, and the powder was as dry as a bonfire. -So I fixed things to make a noise; but I never thought the stones would -shoot so--I mean, I knew it, of course; but I didn’t _calculate_ for it. -It was a fine sight, though, to see them shoot up into the air. How did -it appear to you?” - -“‘_Appear!_’ Well, the stones broke two holes through the boat!” Will -growled. “But where is Steve? haven’t you seen him?” - -“Seen him? No, where can he be? How did he take it, anyway?” - -“I think he was very much frightened, he looked so queer,” said Charles. -“Oh, boys! where is he? Perhaps he was hurt!” - -Then they flew to the bank. But the most searching glances failed to -discover either the boat or Stephen. - -“Steve! Steve!” they shouted, in convulsive grief. - -“Oh, who saw him last?” Will asked. “Was he in the boat, or swimming?” - -No one could answer the question, and the boys’ pale faces betrayed how -their conscience was reproaching them. - -In truth, Stephen’s broken arm, together with the shock of the explosion, -had rendered him helpless, and he had been swept over the falls in the -boat. - -It would be dramatic to break off here, leaving the reader a prey to -fruitless inquiries as to Stephen’s fate, drop down among the hungry-eyed -little picnickers in the grove that bordered the river, and give a -glowing description of what was going on. But as this story has very -little to do with the picnic, and as most readers would a little rather -hear about Stephen, I will deliberately transgress the laws of romance, -and tell how it fared with him. - -The explosion was distinctly heard by the merry-makers, and the picnic -broke up in confusion. Crowds of excited people were soon skirting the -winding banks of the river, and Stephen was found and fished out of -the water, more dead than alive. He was immediately taken to his home, -and a surgeon was called in. The surgeon set the broken arm, and after -examining the boy carefully, said that although severely bruised, he was -not hurt internally. But Stephen’s sufferings were not over yet. The -fright and the shock proved too much for him; fever set in; and it was -long before he rejoined his school-fellows, and several months before he -recovered his health and strength. - -Mr. Lawrence, “a sadder and a wiser man,” blamed himself for having -indirectly contributed to the disaster. He reproved his son in these -words: “I must say, Will, that you and your companions showed a -deplorable want of honor in your dealings with poor Stephen this day.” - -The man in whose field the explosion had taken effect set up a howl -of righteous indignation on seeing the “chasm” in the ground; and did -not stop to consider that the youngsters had only altered the physical -features of a little plot of stony and untilled ground by changing the -position of a few ancient stones, and by removing a few others into the -bed of the river. - -The portly and benevolent old gentleman said sadly, as he gazed upon -the wreck of his sometime gay little boat, “Well, it is now manifested -that a boat cannot be taken over these falls without being shattered -to flinders. But, of course, nothing can kill a modern _boy_; _he_ is -indestructible.” - -The observing reader of this history will remark that whatever these boys -meddled with generally came to a dishonorable end. - -And the “reformers” themselves, what of them? Probably, in the whole -United States there could not have been found three more miserable boys -than Will, Charles, and George, as they trudged home that day from the -scene of their exploits--the clothing of the first two uncomfortably -wet--the frame of the other smarting with pain. But their forlorn and -dilapidated appearance excited no pity from the horrified villagers. - -Mr. and Mrs. Lawrence, in despair, sent their son to his aunt Eleanor’s, -to spend a few days, hoping that he would there reflect on the folly of -his doings, and amend. He and the others suffered tenfold more shame than -Stephen after the scandal about the “mad dog.” - -Boys, listen to the moral of this unconscionably dreary chapter: - -It is quite right and desirable that you should, under proper tuition, -learn the uses and the usefulness of gunpowder; but, if you know of any -_trick_ in which it is to be an agent, think of Stephen, and hang back. - - - - -_Chapter XV._ - -A LESSON IN BALLOONING. - - -Perhaps no one will be able to take in the moral lurking in the following -chapters--except, it may be, some atramental old critic, who can discern -a “hidden meaning” where no meaning, “hidden” or otherwise, is intended. -Our only hope of escape from such critics is that they will consider this -story entirely beneath their notice, and so pass it by in silence and -contempt. - -Will was sent to his aunt’s. This would have been, perhaps, a wise -proceeding, if his aunt had been a severe old maid--but she was not. She -was, on the contrary, a loving and cheerful woman, with a mettlesome, -rattle-headed, yet resolute, son, Will’s “Cousin Henry.” - -Will’s rueful mien excited the compassion of the entire family to such -an extent that they did their utmost to divert him. Cousin Henry, with a -noble disregard of self, gave up his school for two weeks, and devoted -himself wholly to Will’s services. The sequel was, the two were soon -sworn bosom-friends, pledged to stand by each other to the close of life. - -Now, as this Henry was a hare-brained sort of fellow, permitted to do as -he pleased, it may readily be supposed that he and Will were not long in -getting into trouble. - -“Will, did you see my balloon when you were here last?” Henry asked one -day. - -“Balloon? No; can you make a balloon?” Will inquired, in some surprise. - -“Of course I can. American boys can make or do anything. All we want is -some tissue paper for the cover; whalebone or cane for the ribs; a piece -of wire; and a piece of cotton batten dipped in alcohol to make the gas.” - -“I never heard of such a balloon,” Will replied. “_How_ do you make the -gas?” - -“Why, just set fire to the batten,--that will be fastened under the mouth -of the balloon by a bit of wire, you know,--and that’ll soon make the -gas. Then away it goes, like a rocket.” - -“I should think it might set something on fire,” said Will. - -“Well, let it set. There are fire-engines enough in the town to put it -out,” Henry replied, with easy indifference. “But, Will,” he added, -“don’t be afraid; I’ve rigged lots of them, and they never set anything -on fire yet.” - -Ah, Henry! You did not observe that your balloons were generally -fabricated so fragilely that it was impossible for them to do any harm! - -“Then let us make one!” Will rejoined with alacrity. - -The cousins, without delay, repaired to Mrs. Mortimer’s apartments, to -look for some of the things required. Henry rummaged in a careless way -that quite shocked poor Will, and at last issued from the room, leaving -everything in appalling disorder. Next, Mr. Mortimer’s valuables were -overhauled, and last of all, the hero’s own. - -“Now we’ve found everything we need, Will, even to the tools,” he said. -“Let us go to work.” - -“Won’t you straighten up things, Henry?” Will ventured to ask. - -“Straighten! Creation, no! Don’t you know it’s fall house-cleaning time? -I don’t fool away _my_ time in straightening!” with virtuous indignation. - -Choosing Henry’s room for a workshop, the two fell to work. -Notwithstanding the fact that the science of aëronautics was entirely -new to him, Will suggested so many improvements that Henry was both -astonished and delighted. - -“We shall have a famous balloon!” he exclaimed. - -“Why shouldn’t it be as good as any you ever made?” Will asked mildly. - -“Why, yes, of course; why shouldn’t it. _I_ don’t see,” Henry answered, -not at all disconcerted. - -“Will, would you like to go with me to the Demon’s Cave some day?” he -asked abruptly. - -“I never heard of the ‘Demon’s Cave.’ Where is it, and what is the Demon?” - -“Then I can tell you all about it while we work. The ‘demon,’ Will, isn’t -a ‘what’ but a ‘who;’ and a terrible sort of a fellow he is. Everybody -around these parts knows all about him; some foolish people are afraid -of him, some even pretend that he is a ghost! Some people that ought to -know better say he’s an escaped criminal; but,” in a positive tone, “my -father always knows what he is talking about, and he says the poor fellow -is more or less crazy. He lives in a queer sort of a cave, or hovel, or -hole, in a bank of earth. I’ve heard lots of the boys say that there are -several rooms inside; but _they_ don’t know; how should they?” - -“Did you ever see him?” Will asked eagerly. - -“I never got a good look at him, because he stays denned up like a bear -in winter; but one night, a long time ago, some of us boys went howling -and yelling around his cave, and he came out at us and chased us like a -hungry wolf. The boys ran away like velocipedes, and I--I ran too. The -demon was as fierce as a humbugged pirate [Henry was fond of comparison], -and he caught one boy, and mauled him like a Spanish blood-hound. That -was the only time I ever saw the demon; but that was enough for me.” - -Will became interested in the man, and he inquired: “What did he look -like?” - -“Look! How can I tell? I was only a little boy then, or I shouldn’t -have ran away. Well, let me think. Will,” suddenly, “did you ever see a -correct picture of Satan?” - -“No!” Will said, with horror. - -“Well, _I_ have, and it wasn’t half so ugly as the demon. That’s enough -to say about his looks, isn’t it? And his clothes! Why, Will, they set -him off so well that he looked like a shipwrecked Turk, dressed up in a -savage’s stolen spoil!” - -Will endeavored to grasp the meaning of this, but Henry hurried on. - -“Well, Will, at any rate, he lives there all alone, and has for years. -Some folks say he has lots of money; and likely they are right, for what -else can he live on?” - -“Why, does he buy food at the market?” Will asked. - -“No; didn’t I tell you that he keeps shut up like a nun in a coffin? They -say a friend of his goes there every once in a while with victuals and -things; and likely the demon pays him for them. All the boys say that he -has a poultry-yard full of hens and chickens somewhere in his cave. I’ve -heard, though, that he prowls around at night, and gets his living that -way. Very likely a little of both; for he is often seen out in the night. -For all you or I know, Will, he may have a chest full of gold, like a -hermit in a story-book for little girls.” - -“Then it’s a wonder he doesn’t get robbed,” Will observed. - -“You’ve hit it, Will!” said Henry. “A whole gang of thieves broke into -his cave once, so the story goes, thinking they would carry off his -money, if he had any. But the demon was too clever for them. He hid -himself in a dark corner, and frightened the robbers nearly to death. -They rushed out of the cave like bumble-bees on a holiday.” - -“And didn’t they steal anything?” - -“They didn’t see anything to steal, Will. The demon had either put his -treasures out of sight, or else he hadn’t any. But I don’t know whether -the story is true or not; perhaps it is only a concocted one.” - -“Why do the people let him stay there?” was Will’s next question. “Why -don’t they take him out of his cave, and take care of him?” - -“For several reasons. He is harmless when he is not molested; he lives -there quietly, and likely wouldn’t leave his cave unless taken away by -force; and no one likes to interfere with his affairs. Of course the -people keep an eye on him, and won’t let him suffer.” - -“Why do they call him ‘the Demon?’” - -“Oh, that’s only a nickname he got. Didn’t you ever notice, Will, how -people like to give outlandish nicknames? They’ll pick up the silliest -old hunks they can find,--a man that doesn’t know enough to put on his -own hat, even,--and ornament him with the name of some vanquished hero. -Don’t you see, the ‘Demon of the Cave’ sounds pretty strong; it’s sure -to make a stranger turn around and look over his left shoulder, as if he -was afraid of himself. Yes, the people in this country like to give big -nicknames; they nickname even the Evil One!” - -“And doesn’t any person know where this man came from, nor who he is?” - -“No, the people here don’t seem to know anything about him before he came -to these parts; but there are all kinds of stories about him.” - -“Poor fellow!” Will said, softly. “He must have a miserable life there, -all alone. Does he have any fires in his cave?” - -“Oh, yes; I believe he keeps a good fire all day long; but it must be -cold there in winter. I think he gets his firewood prowling around in -the night,--not that he _steals_, but he gathers up rubbish and old -boards. They say he cooks his food nicely over his fire. There is a -spring, or underground well, of some kind in his cave, so that he does -not suffer from want of fresh water. But, Will, I could go on talking -about him for hours. There are all kinds of stories about him, stories -that would make you turn black and blue, and shiver all over. When we go -to bed to-night, I’ll tell you some of the worst.” - -“You can’t scare me that way, Henry; so you might as well tell them now.” - -“Oh, well, they don’t amount to very much, anyway. All the boys say he’s -a cannibal, and every few weeks he steals somebody, and eats him up. -There was a man missed here once, Will, and he never came back again; so, -of course, they say he was taken off by the demon. The man never came -back again to say where he had been; and so the story got going, and it’s -going yet. The boys say that sometimes he has awful fits of madness, -and tears everybody that he meets all to pieces. Oh, there are lots of -stories, Will; but if they don’t frighten you, what’s the good of telling -them? They’ll scare some boys, though. There’s one little boy that goes -to school that the boys make a habit of frightening very often, by saying -that they’ll take him to the Demon’s Cave. Then he bellows, and rams his -fists into his eyes, and punches ’em nearly out, and swears he’ll shoot -all the boys when he gets big enough.” - -“And do you tease him, too?” asked Will. - -“No, Will; I don’t. I hate to see a boy with the nosebleed, and this -little fellow bellows so hard, and pommels himself so much, that he -nearly always gets it. You see, one attack of nosebleed doesn’t get -rightly cured before another comes on.” - -“I see,” said Will. - -“Well, Will,” after a pause, “would you like to go and see this cave and -the demon some day?” - -“Yes, Henry, I should like nothing better;” Will said, with boyish -eagerness. “How far away is it, and when shall we go?” - -“Well, it’s about three or four miles from our house, and we can go -to-morrow night, if it should be pleasant. I’ve always wanted to get -inside of that cave, Will, to see whether any of the stories about it are -true. We will get into it when we go, or perish on the spot, won’t we?” - -Will was quite willing to go and see the place where the demon lived; -but, “to beard the lion in his den!” that was asking too much; -especially, as he had resolved not to get into any mischief during his -stay at his aunt’s. - -“Come, Will; _you_ are the only boy I would ask to go with me. I’ve -always wanted to go, but I could never find the right boy to have along. -_You_ are the very chap; _you_ have nerve; _you_ wouldn’t run away, if -the demon should be in one of his fits of fury. And you would enjoy it; -you would have it to think of and dream of when you were an old man!” - -This last argument, not proving conclusive, Henry continued: “Just think -how the boys would envy us! You could tell the boys at home, and make ’em -jealous of us for life; and I could stir up the boys that I know, and -make them so mad that they would chew India rubber and think it was gum!” - -Will was only a boy, and he could, not withstand so seductive an -argument. “Well, Henry,” he said slowly, “_I’ll go._” - -“Of course; you would always be sorry if you didn’t.” - -Now that he had secured Will’s promise to go, he ventured to hint at the -propriety of taking pistols. - -“Pistols!” Will exclaimed, with horror. “Surely, we don’t want pistols! -Why, we might as well turn highwaymen, and be done with it!” - -But Henry was a year older than Will, accustomed to have his own way, -and he would not yield to the boy’s entreaties. His stronger nature soon -overruled Will’s scruples, and he consented to do whatever Henry thought -best, though feeling ill at ease. - -“Of course, Will, we don’t think of shooting at anything--not for all the -world;--but the plan is to get behind an old tree near the cave, fire a -pistol to draw the demon out, and then rush in while he is looking to -see what made the noise. Don’t you see? Perhaps we shan’t need to fire a -pistol at all; but it will be best to have them.” - -“Why should we take more than one, and why should we put in a ball?” Will -asked uneasily. - -“One apiece, Will; and we must have both loaded, for we don’t know what -might happen. Now, don’t be frightened; we won’t do any harm, nor break -any laws; I know how to manage things too well for that.” - -“I promised to keep out of mischief,” Will said, dolefully. - -“I know it, Will; and I’m going to help you keep your promise. We can be -very careful, and what fun it will be!” - -“I’m afraid somebody will get shot,” mournfully replied the assistant -balloonist. He was beginning to repent of his promises to Henry; and in -his heart of heart he knew it would be extremely ridiculous, not to say -wrong, for two hare-brained youths to set out on a nocturnal expedition, -with loaded pistols. - - - - -_Chapter XVI._ - -UNHEARD-OF ADVENTURES WITH BALLOONS. - - -The little balloon was now completed, and the demon and his affairs were -forgotten. The balloon was rather clumsily constructed, it is true; but -it promised to float well, and the cousins were enchanted with it. They -bore it tenderly out into the back-yard, arranged it for flight, and were -about to fire the prepared cotton batten, when Henry cried excitedly: -“Wait, Will! Wait a minute! I’m going to fix a car under it! I see a -little old straw-hat of the baby’s here in the yard, and I’ll just hitch -it on for a car. Of course; what’s a balloon without a car?” - -Henry hastened to do so, and the little bonnet was tied fast to the -balloon, immediately under the gas-producing apparatus. Then he set fire -to the batten; very soon the balloon quivered; and then up it rose, a -really pretty sight. The boys shouted, cheered, and flung out their arms -in wild delight. - -It rushed up like a rocket--it flew along--it soared--it became -smaller and smaller--the “car” took fire--the whole balloon blazed--it -wavered--it fell headlong--it lit on the roof of a public building--it -set it on fire! - -The boys had watched its ascent with enthusiasm, cheering lustily; but -when it took fire, their enthusiasm cooled, and in proportion as the -balloon burned brighter, their hearts grew heavier. When it fell, their -spirits fell with it. They grew sick with fear on seeing flames burst -forth on the roof of the building, and looked at each other in utter -helplessness. Henry was the first to collect himself, and he gave the -alarm by shouting “Fire!” in thundering tones. - -Several householders, Mrs. Mortimer among them, flew to their doors at -the dreadful cry of _fire_, to see whether their own buildings were the -ones menaced. The fire was soon pointed out; the fire-engines rushed -gallantly to the rescue; the hoses were adjusted; and the firemen sprang -to their work. The two boys got over their terror sufficiently to throng -to the scene of action. To Henry it was a familiar sight; but to Will it -was entirely new, and he enjoyed it, in spite of himself. - -The fire was soon extinguished, and but little harm was done to the -building. The whole affair, from the time when Henry attached the “car” -to his balloon till the last spark was extinguished, took up only a few -minutes. - -As the cousins returned to the house, they felt that all was not over yet. - -“That’s the worst thing, almost, that ever happened to me,” said Will. - -“Never mind it, Will; its over now, and not much harm done. I wouldn’t -let that trouble me a minute. We boys in the city, don’t count _that_ -as much; we’re used to all sorts of horrible things happening to us; we -get hardened to it; we expect it. But it was all that dismal straw-hat; -_that_ did the mischief. If I hadn’t flung it into the back-yard the -other day, our balloon might be soaring around yet! Well, it’s burnt up -now, from stem to stern.” - -“Yes, Henry; but it isn’t a very good way to keep out of mischief; it--it -makes me feel very miserable. George would say we are _incendiaries_.” - -“Who’s George? Somebody that is nobody, I guess. Well, at any rate, that -isn’t the word. _Giantize_ is a great deal better. _To giantize_, Will, -is to eat like a giant; to do big things; to astonish the natives; to -be a hero; to rescue captives. We’ll _giantize_ to-morrow night when we -rescue the man--if there _is_ a man--in the Demon’s Cave. Some day, Will, -I’ll take you to a bookstore, and show you a weekly paper with continued -stories in it, and continual heroes in the stories. These heroes are -very, _very_ strong, and good, and brave, and handsome; and they make it -a settled business to giantize.” - -“Oh, I know what those papers are, Henry; I know a Mr. Horner that takes -two or three of them; and he gets so excited over the stories that -sometimes he can’t sleep at night. But his boy Jim--Timor we call him--is -the biggest coward that ever ran away from a lapdog.” - -The boys sat down to dinner with little appetite. Mr. Mortimer made -inquiries about the fire, and they acknowledged their share in it. To -say that Mr. Mortimer was vexed would hardly express the state of his -feelings. In the afternoon a deputation of the City Fathers waited on -him, and he and the two cousins were closeted with them some time. -What passed between them was never made known; but as they took their -departure one of them observed: “Yes, that makes it all right. Well, I -never realized before that a straw-bonnet would set fire to a roof. I -must tell my boys never to make balloons; or, at least, to make them -without cars. By the way, what was it that you dipped in alcohol to make -the gas?” - -Will was too confused to make a reply. Not so Henry. “Cotton batten, sir, -is what we used,” he said, “but a sponge is better still.” - -After they had gone, he said to Will: “Now he’ll get himself into -trouble! His boys are always trying experiments; and if he tells them -about our balloon, they’ll go to work and make one that’ll set the whole -place on fire! Oh, they’re awful boys! Only a few days ago they poisoned -off a dog with some dangerous gas, and drove the house-keeper’s cat into -hysteric fits. Why, Will, their mother can’t keep a tea-kettle three -weeks before they swoop down on it; and turn on a full head of steam; and -plug up the spout; and batten down the lid; and blow it all to nothing. -Oh, that man will have his hands full of sorrow before long.” - -“But what does their mother say about it? Surely, she doesn’t like to -keep on buying new tea-kettles! And their father,--doesn’t he get mad?” - -“Oh, as long as the boys don’t get hurt, their parents think they are -smart; and they tell everybody that goes into the house that when -the boys grow up, they will revolutionize chemistry and remodel the -steam-engine.” - -Then the two talked of exploits that they had achieved; adventures that -had befallen them; and perils through which they had passed. Henry said -that he had had the mumps, the measles, and the small-pox; Will said he -had had the sore throat, the chicken-pox, seven boils, lots and lots of -warts, and the measles, too. Henry said a circus horse once kicked him -hard, and a circus monkey once stole his handkerchief; Will said he once -shot a cat with his father’s gun, and it fled away and lived all winter -with the bullet in its heart. Henry said that was nothing; he once shot a -deer, and if somebody else hadn’t come along and killed it, he believed -his ball would have killed it. Will said he could beat that, for he was -nearly drowned once. Then Henry said he one day drank so much water that -he nearly died; and the next day those smart boys that he had spoken of -set him on fire, and scorched his coat till he couldn’t recognize it. - -Then they talked of other things, and Will told his cousin all about his -school-fellows. Then Henry again referred to the demon and his wickedness. - -Judging by the performances of the last few hours, Henry would be a -strange companion to visit the Demon’s Cave with, at night, and armed -with loaded pistols, “ready,” as he phrased it, “to defend themselves in -case of danger.” - - * * * * * - -It was morning. The cousins were standing in the commons. A crowd of -people was assembled. In the centre of the inclosure a colossal balloon -(do not smile, gentle reader) towered up into the air. Its manager, Prof. -Ranteleau, was haranguing the people. In a few minutes he would ascend in -his balloon--who wished to accompany him? He was an adept in the science -of aëronautics, and would insure every one a safe, novel, and delightful -voyage through the aërial regions. When they had sailed among the clouds -to their satisfaction, he would return and descend on the common. - -A few people said “good-bye” to their friends, and climbed into the car. -The cousins did likewise. The fastenings were cast loose; the professor -seated himself with a complacent smile; and with a great lurch the -balloon began to ascend. - -The people began to make poetical remarks upon the “sublimity,” the -“immensity,” the “profundity” of the scene, before the car was fifty feet -above the ground. - -Will and Henry sat still and looked on; for to their untutored minds the -scene did yet seem particularly sublime. - -But the balloon rapidly gained in speed, and soon whirled its occupants -along at an astonishing rate. Things below became more and more -indistinct, and were gradually lost to view. Then the balloonists felt -in their pockets for sundry barometers and thermometers; buttoned their -over-coats up to their ears; and prepared to enjoy themselves. - -The professor reached out his hand to adjust some part of the mechanism. -But a valve refused to open, the bulky monster gave a great lurch -forward, and he perceived that it had become unmanageable! His benign -countenance assumed an air of woe, but he hoped that all was not yet -lost. He was deceived. - -Suddenly the balloon careened over, and sailed through the air in a -horizontal position, very unpleasant to the balloonists. Striking a -certain parallel of latitude, it circled round this world of ours like -a beam of light. In vain the professor attempted to get control of the -unwieldy monster. Dropping their barometers and thermometers, the unhappy -æronauts clutched the sides of the car with an agonized grip. Nothing was -now said about the “sublimity” of things below; for no one durst cast his -eyes to the ground. - -Soon they were circumnavigating the world in the twinkling of an eye; and -the balloon increased in speed till it exceeded the wildest calculations -made by man respecting motion. The wretched travelers of the sky could -no longer maintain their hold, and were one by one flung from the fated -balloon like missiles from a catapult. They went whirling through space -with a rotary motion, like balls from a rifle; while, from a peculiarity -in the way in which they were flung, they took a different course from -that taken by the balloon, more downward and southward. - -Thus the pedagogue’s question, whether anything can be discharged from a -motive power in motion, is set at rest forever. - -In spite of the awfulness of his situation, Will could not help pitying -whatever obstacle they should bring up against, for there would be a -frightful collision. - -For the thirtieth time the Rocky Mountains rose before them, and a -large man, built on the approved Dicken’s model, was shot from the -balloon. To the spectator’s horror, he went right through one of the -loftiest mountains, just below the limit of perpetual snow, tearing a -hole eight feet in circumference through the solid rock. When the “hardy -mountaineer” comes upon that hole, he will call it a “freak of nature,” -and be at a loss to account for its usefulness. “Ah! he didn’t ought to -come!” the professor managed to articulate. But he was not heard, for in -an instant an ocean of ether rolled between him and his words. - -One by one the unfortunates were hurled from the balloon, till out of -thirteen only the professor and the two cousins remained. The monster -circumnavigated the globe one hundred times; then quivered, hesitated, -slackened its speed, and finally, taking a new start, it left the -earth entirely behind, and swiftly drew near one of the planets. It -redoubled its exertions, and soon exceeded its former velocity. The air -became warmer and warmer, nearer and nearer they came to the planet. The -professor determined to make one more effort to check their wild flight, -and took his right hand from the support it clutched, to pull a rope -leading to a valve. - -That movement was fatal: the professor himself was shot out of the -balloon. He, however, took an upward course. The balloon seemed to -know that he was gone; and quivering with joy and relief, it once more -assumed a perpendicular position. The boys relaxed their hold, and gladly -stretched their stiffened limbs. But its velocity seemed only to increase. - -Six seconds later, the boys felt an awful crash above them. The balloon -had overtaken its latest projectile, the professor, and a great collision -was the result. Then the gas coming from the professor’s throat, and -the gas inside of the balloon, met; and an explosion that jarred the -planet they were drawing near,--though it was still three thousand miles -away,--took place. - -The balloon immediately collapsed, and then a strange thing happened. -Will dilated till he reached the dimensions of the last exhumed New -Jersey fossil, and then a cry of pain broke from his lips. He opened his -eyes. - -A calm September sun was shining into the bedroom window; the birds were -singing gayly outside; while down stairs he heard Henry’s merry laugh. - -“A dream!” Will exclaimed, in great relief! “Only a dream. But it seemed -more real than any dream I ever had! Oh, dear! Even in dreams I get into -trouble! What will become of me next? Shall I always keep on making -blunders? Shall I always get into disgrace, like an idiot or a bothersome -dog?” - -After a pause, he continued: “Well, I do feel a pain, sure enough! I -suppose I ate too much pudding for dinner.” - -In this observation he was partially correct. Boys, listen to this -glorious precept: _Never eat heartily when you feel as Will felt that -afternoon._ - -“I wonder how a genuine balloon would behave itself?” Will mused, as he -jumped out of bed. “Not much like Professor Ranteleau’s, surely. If I -could see George, now, I guess he could tell me all about it. Perhaps -Henry knows how it would be. Well, I don’t care for such dreams; they -make me feel homesick. Poor Stephen! I wonder how he is this morning. Oh! -Oh! this is the day for the visit to the Demon’s Cave!” - -Having said that, he went down stairs in search of Henry. - - - - -_Chapter XVII._ - -THEY PREPARE TO GIANTIZE. - - -The boys spent the day in suppressed excitement, not caring to engage -in any amusement, but roaming about the house and making their -“preparations.” After much wandering through the building, they gathered -up everything they thought would be needful. - -“It’s a great pity we haven’t more weapons,” Henry said. “Now, Will to -go armed rightly, we should have revolvers, not pistols. Seven-shooters, -with a box of cartridges apiece, would make us very formidable, and then -we ought to have other weapons. Well, I’ve a compass, anyway; you must -take it, Will, for you don’t know the way so well as I do. These pistols -of mine are very good, for pistols; but after all, they are only pistols.” - -Henry was wrong in being ashamed of his firearms. They were very neat -and highly ornamented pocket-pistols, which his father had given to him -some years before, under a promise not to use them till he should be old -enough to do so with safety. He had strictly kept that promise. - -There was nothing wrong with them; but Henry got out his father’s oil -can, and the two boys toiled over them for upwards of an hour. The oil -in the little can ran low, and a pile of greasy rags rose beside them; -but when they at last desisted from their labors, a sweet smile of -content lit up their grimy features, and unthinkingly they drew out their -handkerchiefs. - -“Oh!” cried Will with a look of dismay. - -“Never mind,” said Henry, composedly. “Just keep yours, and I’ll keep -mine, and they’ll make the very best kind of a slate-cloth, and when they -get worn out for that, the ragman will buy them at a cent a pound. Now, -Will, just look at these pistols; they are as clean as a snow-storm!” - -This sublime comparison restored Will’s cheerfulness, and together they -wended their way outside to wash. - -“Will,” he said, “to show you how _very_ careful I am, we won’t load this -pair of pistols till just before we go. All the accidents you read about -in the newspapers come from loaded pistols and revolvers lying around -loose; so we’ll cheat fate, and not load them till the last minute. And,” -he added, “to be still more careful, _you may load them both yourself_.” - -But where Will was concerned, Fate was not to be cheated so easily; in -fact, on this occasion, Henry was “only playing into her hands.” - -For some reason, neither of the boys said anything to Mr. or Mrs. -Mortimer about their intended expedition, wishing, according to their -account, to have a “tale to tell” the next morning. Although they kept -saying to each other that they would be doing nothing wrong, it is -probable they feared Mr. Mortimer might think they would be better at -home than at the Demon’s Cave. To do them justice, it must be stated -that neither meditated doing any harm; they wished only to effect an -entrance into the cave. They were certain that they would reach home by -bedtime; and then, the affair being all over, they could narrate their -adventures at their leisure. They were observing boys, and knew well -enough that when they returned in triumph and safety, their little prank -would be excused; and far from being blamed, they would be regarded with -admiration--even lionized. - -Yes, Will and Henry were wise in their day and generation. - -In the morning Henry had said to his mother: “Ma, could you get supper -earlier than usual to-night? Will and I want to go out about sundown. -We’ll tell you all about it afterwards.” - -Mrs. Mortimer supposed, of course, that everything was all right, and -never thought of questioning them as to whither they were going. She, -good soul, promised to get an early supper on purpose for them, and even -proposed that they should take some eatables with them. The boys heartily -agreed to this--not that they cared to eat on the way; but they thought -it would become them, as armed heroes, to take along a knapsack of food. - -When supper was announced the impatient knights-errant hastily ate it. -Then Henry put some tempting sandwiches--the eatables his kind mother had -prepared--into his satchel, or knapsack, and called to Will to get ready. - -“Now, Will,” he said, as they flew up stairs to his room, “we must hurry -like a train of cars behind time. It is getting late, and you must -load the pistols as fast as you can, while I change my boots. Here is -everything you want in this drawer, and you know just where to lay your -hand on whatever you want.” - -“Oh, yes,” said Will. - -“See, Will, here’s a big jack-knife for you, and another for me. They’re -the toughest and grittiest old fellows you ever saw; stick this one into -your pocket.” - -So they armed their persons with these formidable and bulky knives. Did -they expect to kill anyone, or to be killed themselves? - -Will felt no uneasiness about taking a pocket-knife, however big it might -be; but he looked at the pistols with awe. - -“You secured the compass before supper?” asked Henry. - -“Yes.” - -“Then don’t stand fooling, Will, but load the pistols.” - -The sun had set, and the boys’ bedroom facing the east, it was somewhat -dark within it. Will knew he must hurry, for it was getting late, and -Henry would soon be ready. His old dread about taking the pistols -returned, and his hand trembled with suppressed excitement as he snatched -them up. - -“I’ll load ’em,” he said desperately, “but I don’t like to do it.” - -“Don’t be chicken-hearted at the last minute, Will; you know I rely on -you to help me;” Henry called out, from the adjoining room. - -“Never mind,” Will replied confusedly, as he opened the drawer of which -Henry had spoken. There were many things in this drawer, arranged in -excellent order, Henry thought; but to anyone else, everything seemed -to be in appalling _dis_order, as though thrown into it at random. -Boxes, strings, cords, fishhooks, slate-pencils, lead-pencils, discarded -buttons; a glass ink-bottle that a blue-eyed girl had once given him -for prompting her against the rules; a top that a dead brother had spun -in days gone by; a diary that began with a grand flourish and ended -miserably on the fifth page; and several other things, were stowed away -in that drawer. If the reader wishes to know _exactly_ what its contents -were, let him look into the sanctum of such a boy as Henry. - -Groping among these things, Will found his cousin’s powder-flask, poured -a generous charge into the barrel of both pistols, and then rammed in a -wad. - -“Ready?” asked Henry, as he slipped on the second boot. - -“Oh, yes; in a minute;” Will replied, becoming very much confused. - -Fumbling in the drawer again, he drew out a box which he supposed held -the bullets. Tearing off the lid without stopping to examine what the -soft black balls really were, he dropped one into each barrel, and -secured it with a wad. - -Poor boy! Of course he had made a blunder, and mistaken artificial balls, -that Henry had made for his little brothers pog-gun, for leaden bullets! -These balls were made of tow, soaked in water, and then rounded into -shape. They were excellent for a pop-gun, but rather out of place in a -pistol. - -Poor knights-errant! They were not armed even so well as Henry imagined. -In case of an attack from the demon, all that they could rely on would be -their jack-knives. - -Unconscious of his mistake, Will observed, with a sigh of relief, “There, -they’re loaded! I’m not much used to loading pistols, Henry; but I know -better than to put the balls in first!” - -“Then why didn’t you say so before?” Henry demanded, as he stepped into -the room. “You are too nervous, Will; you ought to take things coolly, as -I do. Of course the pistols are all right; but let me see them.” - -Taking them up, he said, with an amused smile: “It’s pretty dark here, -Will, _but I think I could see the caps, if they were on_!” - -“Oh!” was all poor Will could say. - -Henry hurried to his drawer, found his box of caps, and speedily remedied -Will’s neglect. But he did not see the mistake Will had made about the -balls. - -Then each boy thrust a pistol into his coat pocket, and looked every inch -a redoubtable hero. - -“Never mind shutting up the drawer, Will; never mind doing anything;” -Henry cried impatiently. “It is nearly a quarter to seven; so let us -hurry, and we’ll swoop down on the demon just in the nick of time.” - -As they passed out of the house, Henry’s little sister asked where they -were going. - -“Wait till we come back, Topsy, and we’ll have a whole story-book full of -tales to tell you,” said Henry. “We are going to do something wonderful, -and perhaps we’ll find something to bring back to you. Topsy, tell your -baby brother that if we meet Jack the Giant Killer, we’ll smash his head -for him.” - -A minute later, the boys were fairly on their way to the cave. - -“Henry, there is a question I want to ask you,” said Will, as they strode -along. “It will be so late when we get home, and we shall be so tired; -why didn’t we start early in the afternoon?” - -“Ho! what a question! Why, Will, I’m astonished at you! What would be -the fun in going in daylight? Don’t you see, _night_ makes everything -solemn and romantic, and spurs a fellow on to be very brave--so brave -that he wouldn’t be afraid of the skeleton of a devil-fish. Will, do you -ever read novels? stories? legends?” - -“Yes.” - -“Well, don’t the heroes do all their noble deeds at night? Villains and -ruffians prowl around at night, and the heroes know that, and lay their -plans to grapple them. Will, when different nations go to war, like two -dogs over a bone, if they can only manage to do the fighting at night, -they always do. And then what a battle there is.” - -He held forth in this strain till he became almost eloquent; but wound -up by saying, with great inconsistency, “Besides, it isn’t night at all; -it’s only evening.” - -To all this Will meekly assented. - -“As for being tired,” Henry continued, with intense disgust, “you’re no -true boy, Will, if you care a straw for that, when such sport is in view.” - -“No, of course not!” Will hastily replied. But he asked himself whether -his cousin had any of Marmaduke’s notions. - -“Well,” after a pause, “I _did_ have a reason for coming at this -particular time. I know a good-natured fellow that comes along this way -every evening with a team. I see him coming now; and he’ll give us a -ride, as sure as our pistols are loaded. He’ll set us down not far from -the cave, and that will be a great help; and, Will, if you are tired, ten -to one we’ll get a ride going home!” - -Will began to think his cousin was a strangely contrary boy. - -Mr. Mortimer’s house stood in the suburbs of the town, which the boys -had now left entirely behind. Eagerly they hurried on, but the teamster -soon overtook them, and as Henry had said, he offered them a ride. As -they rattled on over the dusty road, they felt that this world is very -beautiful, after all; and that it is a fine thing to have a teamster for -a friend. - -When they left him they were within a quarter of a mile of their -destination. - -It was between two hills that they alighted, the road coming down one, -crossing a bridge that spanned a little stream, and then going up -another. The land on either side was low,--even marshy in places,--and -used principally for pasturage. To the left of the road there were no -banks; but to the right, for a long way up the stream, there were high -and steep banks, with a wide valley between them. It was in one of these -banks that the cave was situated. - -The cousins ran across the road, and down into the valley, on their way -to the demon’s abode. The teamster watched them as he drove along, and -muttered: “So _that’s_ where the rascals are going! Well, let ’em go; -I reckon they’ll soon come howling back again, very much the worse for -wear, and rather broken in wind!” - - - - -_Chapter XVIII._ - -THE COUSINS SEE MORE THAN THEY BARGAINED FOR. - - -Will was about to follow the stream, but Henry called out to him, “Don’t -go there, Will, for the ground is too soft after the rain. Besides, we -must be careful; the demon may be prowling around; and he might see us. -Let us follow this steep bank for a little way, and then we shall find a -path leading right up to the top of it.” - -It was a desert place, far from any habitation--a wilderness within sight -of a town. High above them rose an almost perpendicular bank, of _earth_, -not _rock_; while directly opposite rose a similar bank, nearly as high. -Between these lay the pasture-land. Will and Henry were sensible of the -desolation of the place; it fired their enthusiasm, and warmed their -blood; and they peered into the shadows as though they imagined a whole -band of demons lurked near, ready to spring upon them. - -If they should be attacked, as Henry seemed to fear, so far from help, -his pistols and pocket-knives would be frail weapons of defence. - -They soon reached the path leading upwards, and began to ascend. - -“Henry, wouldn’t it be better to go boldly up to the door of the cave, -and knock?” Will asked. “Surely, the demon would let us in, and show us -around; and if he should, of course, he would let us out again.” - -“No, Will; that wouldn’t do at all. The demon never lets any one into -his cave; and as I told you, the story runs that whoever he _takes_ in -never gets out again. If we should knock at his door he would be on his -guard, and I doubt whether we should be able to get in at all. Besides, -it wouldn’t be poetical to get in that way. No; we must entice him out, -and then rush in like a whirlwind.” - -“But how are we to get out again?” - -“Now, Will, I don’t mean _you_ when I say it; but that is a coward’s -thought. I never troubled myself about that--in fact, I never let such an -idea come into my head. If we had wanted to get in that way, we should -have stayed down in the valley. By going around on the top of the hill, -as we are, we can lay a trap that the demon will certainly fall into. You -see, Will, if we want to get fun out of this expedition, we must have a -plot. I don’t blame you for being nervous, Will; those trick-playing boys -at your place have unsettled your nerves, and unstrung your faculties; -but if you stay with me long enough, I’ll string them up till you are -ready for anything.” - -Will heaved a sigh, blinked painfully, and said, “Thank you!” - -Henry resumed: “Yes, Will, I think we can safely leave that question till -we get ready to go out. Some way will be found then, never fear. The main -point is to get in; it will be easy enough to get out.” - -“Let us stop a minute, and look around,” Will said, as they strode warily -along on the brow of the hill. - -“By all means, Will. Here,” stretching out his arms, and speaking with -theatrical vehemence, “here is scenery! This is where the travelling -photographers come to astonish themselves!” - -A splendid view was obtained from this elevation; the country could be -seen for a long distance, and glimpses were caught of three or four towns -besides Henry’s. - -But the writer seems to forget that he is not a school-girl writing a -prize composition in description of some far distant and romantic land of -which she, in her younger days, had learned a piece of poetry, difficult -and tiresome, but studded with beautiful metaphors that fired her budding -genius. - -A great many dumb beasts, but no human beings, were in sight. - -Henry soon broke the silence by saying, “Come, Will, we must go on.” - -They hurried along on the brow of the long hill, conversing in low tones. -Still no appearance of the demon. There was a well-beaten path, evidently -worn by the demon himself, which they followed. After following this path -for a few minutes, Henry suddenly stopped, and said in a hoarse whisper: - -“Will, I think we are directly over the cave. Hush! Keep very still, and -look out for danger; but be as collected as a desperado. We are two to -one; so there is nothing to be afraid of. Now, Will, crouch down, and -we’ll lay our plans right over the demon’s head. He can’t hear us, and I -want to make everything clear to you. Don’t you see, Will, its a striking -idea to plot and scheme over the very cave itself?” - -“Yes, it’s just like outlaws,” said Will. - -“Well, by going on a little farther, we shall find another path leading -down this hill into the valley. We must take that path, so that we can -come up to the cave from behind. The demon will never suspect any one of -coming from that direction, and he will be trapped nicely. We can get -behind the big old tree you see down there, and then fire! You see, Will, -we had to come this roundabout way over his cave; it would never do to -pass in front of it, and run the risk of being seen.” - -Will saw, and admired Henry’s stratagem. - -“It makes me think of Robinson Crusoe and his cave,” he whispered, as -they rose and went on. - -Soon they reached the path leading downwards, which they descended -warily, and then found themselves once more in the valley. A few steps -ahead was a monstrous old tree, lying flat on the ground, and jutting out -towards the opposite bank; while farther along, round an angle, was the -entrance into the cave. Any person behind that tree would be effectually -hidden from that entrance; and, of course, that entrance would be hidden -from him. - -Henry’s plan was to fire, and then keep a sharp look-out over the tree -till the demon should come out and place some distance between himself -and his cave, looking for the cause of the loud noise. He imagined that -what with the angle, the surrounding cliffs, and the echoes that would -follow, it would be impossible for a person in the cave to tell the exact -place from which the report came. When the demon should be at a safe -distance from his cave, Henry and Will would dash into it. - -Henry thought they would be perfectly safe; for would they not be -protected on every side, except from the rear? - -From the rear! - -When they reached the foot of the hill, they paused and looked warily, -even fearfully, up the valley. But it was fast getting dark, and they -did not see a man who crouched against the cliff in time to escape -observation. - -He was the man commonly called the Demon. - -The cousins turned and proceeded slowly and circumspectly toward their -ambush, fearing every minute that the demon might appear in front of -them. As they went they conversed in whispers. The man, or demon, -followed so closely behind them that he heard every word; and yet so -carefully did he tread that they were not aware of his presence. As -will be seen, he gathered the whole plan of attack from their whispered -conversation, and took his measures accordingly. - -“Now, Will, we must settle the last details of our plot,” Henry said. -“You may fire your pistol, Will, but I’ll keep my fire till I see whether -we need it or not. I’ll climb the trunk of the tree, when we think it is -safe, from your shoulder, and then pull you up. Of course we can jump -from the tree to the ground, and then, to run for the cave!” - -“But suppose the demon isn’t in his cave?” - -“That’s just what we’re afraid of, Will, and we are only taking our -chances. He ought to be in at this time of night, eating his supper and -tormenting his captives--if he has any. He _must_ be in! I feel that we -haven’t come all the way here for nothing; I feel that we are in for a -grand adventure! And what will the demon say when he finds two armed boys -in his den!” - -“Suppose he won’t come out when I fire? He may be too cute to rush out, -and leave the door open, and straggle off.” - -“Oh, do quit supposing! If he won’t come out, we will shove our way in. -If he is a good old man, we must cheer him up, and help him; but if he is -a wicked old knave, with captives and treasures, we must set them free, -and plunder him for the National Treasury. Here we are at the tree, Will; -get out your pistol ready to fire. No, wait! Let me take a look over the -log, to see that he isn’t prowling around there.” - -After much scrambling, Henry succeeded in climbing upon the tree. Will -stood by, fumbling idly with the pistol. The demon, a few steps behind, -pressed close against the cliff, and remained unseen. - -“I don’t see anything of the demon,” Henry whispered, from the trunk of -the tree. “Don’t fire till I slip down, because he might pop out quick, -and see me. In a minute or two, I’ll venture up again.” - -Before he had finished speaking he was on the ground; and, as bravely as -a war-worn general, he said, in a higher key than Will’s proximity made -necessary: “FIRE!” - -Of course every accomplished story-teller, when he “gets into the thick -of it,” must pause deliberately, and give prolix descriptions of people -or places about whom or which the general reader cares next to nothing. -It is unjust to the impatient, but powerless, reader; but it is the -custom. We must plead guilty of this time-honored meanness, and seize the -present opportune moment to introduce the demon as he appeared at that -time. - -He was a tall, powerful man, with light, active movements, worthy of a -soldier. His features were regularly formed, and apparently he had once -been a fine-looking man. Now, however, he was haggard and stooped from -long-continued privations. His eyes had a ferocious glare,--not pleasant -to beholders, but supposed to be an attribute of maniacs,--a suspicious -look, as though he dreaded some enemy were lurking near, ready to spring -upon him. In fact, his entire appearance showed that he was always on his -guard. His long and intensely black hair waved about his shoulders in -wild profusion; whilst his beard, likewise black, reached far down his -breast. His clothing, old and tattered, was in keeping with his general -appearance. - -All taken together, he looked like a madman; and if Marmaduke could have -seen him, he would have been in ecstacy, thinking that at last he had -found one of Dickens’ monstrosities. - -The “gentle reader” has not been kept in suspense very long, but the -narrative may now resume its course. - -The demon crept stealthily out of the shadow, and, unperceived by the -boys, stole swiftly, but noiselessly, upon them. When Henry said “fire!” -Will raised his pistol with a trembling hand, and cocked it, preparatory -to firing into the air. But before he could do so, the demon sprang -upon him, and the luckless boy found himself encircled by two long and -powerful arms--an embrace anything but loving. - -With a gasp of intense terror, he turned and saw by whom he was held. To -his heated imagination, the demon appeared a monster. - -Henry, also, turned around and saw him. With a cry of dismay, he threw up -his arms, and struck the pistol, which still dangled in Will’s nerveless -hand. - -How it happened--whether Will unconsciously pulled the trigger, or -whether the blow did it--can never be known; but with a stunning noise -the pistol discharged its contents, and then fell to the ground. - -To Will’s consternation, Henry staggered; flung his arms out wildly for -support; gave a moan of pain or terror; and also fell, heavily. The -charge had struck him somewhere--but where? - -At this catastrophe, Will forgot that the demon’s arms encircled him, -forgot everything but that he had shot his cousin Henry. A boy does not -swoon away, or else he would have done so; but he was horror-stricken: -the terrible word _murder_ seemed to be hissed into his ears by unseen -spirits, and he was unable to move or speak. - -The demon, heaving a sigh, lifted him easily off his feet, and bore him -away. Will made no resistance, for his brain was in too confused a state -to perceive what was going on. His eyes were fixed on the prostrate form -of Henry, and the demon strode on with him, following the length of the -tree. Soon the end of the fallen tree was reached; and as the demon -turned and walked towards his cave, Will caught a last look of Henry, who -was still lying flat on the ground. - -All this happened in a very short time, of course; for the demon paid no -attention to the report of the pistol, but immediately marched off with -our doughty hero. - -The reader, unlike him, is aware that the pistol, though heavily loaded -with powder, instead of a leaden bullet held a ball made of tow. - -Will grew calmer, but offered no resistance to his captor. - -The entrance of the cave was now disclosed. Before them an almost -perpendicular cliff rose several feet towards the sky, twisting into -strange shapes to the south, and on the north jutting out irregularly -some distance westward, thus forming the angle spoken of before. Exactly -in the centre there was an opening in which a strong and heavy door was -hung. Two or three grated openings, which served for windows, were to be -seen high above the door, and several feet apart. - -The _outside_ of the cave was somewhat formidable, as no doubt the demon -wished it to be. What was the _inside_ like? - -Will did not care to know. Suddenly he put forth all his strength, and -struggled manfully and furiously to break away from the demon. But the -latter, without a word, folded his arms more tightly round him, and held -him fast in a grip that put an end to all the poor boy’s hopes of escape. - -Advancing with the would-be knight-errant, the demon arrived at the door -of his cave; and manipulating some complicated contrivance which took the -place of a lock, the secret of which was known only to himself, the door -opened and captor and captive passed in. - -So, this was the way in which Will was to gain admittance into the -stronghold! A great improvement on Henry’s little plan! - -A spacious apartment was disclosed, the floor bare, but the roof and -sides covered with planks, to prevent the earth from crumbling in. It was -very dark inside, as during the day but little light came in through the -openings mentioned, during the night, none. A fire was struggling to burn -in the middle of this dismal hole, but its feeble light only added to the -gloom. Round the walls on benches and rude tables all sorts of things -were lying; blankets, old clothes (_our_ “recluse” had more than one -suit), trays, bowls, some other kitchen utensils, even eatables, being -grouped together in confusion, with a view to convenience rather than -neatness. In fact, the demon seemed to take no pride, no interest, in the -affairs of the household. In one corner a big pile of firewood proved -that the occupant could make himself quite comfortable. In spite of all -his misery, Will distinctly heard the cackling of hens and chickens, -evidently the brood of which Henry had spoken, in another apartment. - -The cave was now stifling from a horrible smoke arising from the -smouldering fire. When the demon was present he blew away the smoke by -means of a huge fan suspended from the ceiling; but it accumulated in his -absence. - -Although there were several bye-rooms, each one of which served its own -purpose, this was the principal one--the one in which the demon lived. - -Of course Will had no time to see what we have dimly outlined, for the -demon hurriedly crossed this room and opened a door leading into another, -much like it, excepting in its furniture. Here there were no rude benches -or tables. A comfortable and even handsome bedstead stood against the -wall, with a few sheets and quilts, and one old buffalo-robe, upon it. -There was an attempt made at covering, or carpeting, the floor; and in -one corner there was a crazy stove, or oven, clumsily built of refuse -bricks. Above this stove there was a chimney, which managed to dispose -of most of the smoke when a fire was lighted--that is, it took it into -another and larger room. - -This was the bedroom, in which the demon slept as peacefully as a knight -in his moated castle. - -Having thus, “by slow degrees, by fits and starts,” cooped Will up in -the Demon’s Cave, description may rest awhile and the narrative may be -resumed. - -The demon laid our hero gently on the bed, and then, for the first time, -he spoke to him. “Poor boy!” he said, in a not unpleasant tone. “Perhaps -you did not wish to do me any harm, but I shall keep you here till--” - -He stopped abruptly. - -There was nothing threatening in this, yet Will trembled. His thoughts -were doubtless of Henry. - -The demon turned and left the room, fastening the door behind him. Then -he left the cave, taking the precaution of fastening the outside door, -also. - -“There was another one,” he murmured; “I must see to him.” - -Swiftly he retraced his steps round the tree, and arrived at the scene -of conflict not more than five minutes after he had borne Will away. But -Henry was nowhere to be found! He had vanished, leaving nothing, not even -a drop of blood, behind him! - -“Was there another?” the demon asked himself, dubiously. “What is it? -Have I dreamed, or is this some new device of the enemy?” - -Seeing the pistol which Will had discharged, he picked it up and returned -to the cave, not making the slightest effort to look for the missing -knight-errant. - -Will remained inactive as long as the demon was near, but as soon as he -heard him go out, he leaped off the bed and made a desperate attempt to -open the door. He put forth all his strength--but in vain: the door was -rock. - -Then he groped about the room, to see if he could find some other means -of escape. Again in vain--no outlet presented itself. - -“I am a prisoner!” he groaned. “And what a terrible prison! But, oh! poor -Henry! Was he dead? Have I killed him? Oh, this is too much!” - -Then he recollected that his cousin had insisted that there were captives -hidden away in the cave, and in a voice that--we grieve to say it, but -truth is inexorable--quavered with fear, he shouted: “Is anyone hidden -here?--Speak! Any captives here?” - -His own voice mocked him, and he started back in terror. - -Evidently, no captives there. - -But Will was not comforted. Hobgoblins crawled over the floor, and -ground their teeth under the bed--demons crowded round him and jabbered -ominously--human skeletons rattled their dry bones horribly, and pointed -their fingers jeeringly at him--his murdered cousin came to him, and -looked him full in the face with a sad, reproachful smile. - -Will could endure it no longer. With a cry of horror and agony he flung -himself on the bed, and buried his face in the old buffalo-robe. - -At that moment the Demon of the Cave returned and entered his dwelling. - -This is a convenient, suitable, and orthodox place for the chapter to -close; so let it close. - - - - -_Chapter XIX._ - -WITHIN AND WITHOUT THE DEMON’S CAVE. - - -What had become of Henry? - -The ball had struck him in a tender place; and not seriously hurt, but -very much frightened, he fell headlong with a groan of--fear! - -While the demon was carrying off Will he lay still and made use of his -wits. - -He reflected logically as follows: “Whatever Will loaded my pistols with, -it certainly wasn’t a genuine bullet! So it would be useless for me to -fire this pistol at the demon--useless--wicked--and against the laws!” - -Gentle reader, mark that; read it carefully two or three times; muse on -it; and remember that you yourself were once a boy--or, if not, your -father was. - -“Oh, how my side smarts! There’ll be a blister, surely!” Henry groaned. -“Well, the best way to help Will will be to lie here perfectly still till -the demon gets entirely out of sight, and then hop up and scramble away. -Where shall I go? To the road? I must look for help somewhere, or Will -may be killed! It won’t do to yell for help here, for no one except the -demon could hear me. Yes, I must keep still a little while!” - -As soon as the demon was well out of sight, Henry arose. But he found -himself more bruised than he had thought. - -“Now, to save Will--and myself,” he muttered. “What a capital idea,” -he chuckled, as a happy thought struck him. “They think I’m dead, very -likely, and so the demon won’t be on the watch for me! Of course; and if -I can’t get help, I’ll swoop down on him and do the rescuing myself.” - -As fast as he could he went back to the path, thinking to climb the hill -and hurry to the road. A lingering fear that the demon might return and -look for him lent speed to his feet, and he walked with long swift steps. -In his generous heart he resolved to liberate Will at all hazards; and if -he could devise no other means of doing so, he would return and “beard -the lion in his den.” - -When he reached the foot of the hill he chanced to look back, and saw -a man standing by the tree. It was the demon, looking for him. To his -intense relief, the man turned and went slowly back towards the cave. - -“I am safe now,” he thought. “He won’t come to look for me again. But -does he think I am dead, or carried off? Well, at any rate he will see me -before long!” - -Eagerly he turned to climb the hill, thinking meanwhile:--“Poor Will! No -telling what that cruel demon may do with him! Oh, dear! we are both in a -very bad scrape! O my pistols!--I must hurry!” - -What with scrambling up hills and rushing down them, Henry’s limbs were -already becoming stiff, and he found it hard work to climb. He succeeded, -after making great and desperate struggles, in getting nearly to the top -of the hill; when he took a false step, slipped, was thrown off his feet, -and--in spite of all his efforts to save himself--slid headlong down to -the very bottom. An avalanche of stones and dirt thundered down in his -train. - -A little mound of earth brought him to a standstill, and a cry of pain -escaped his lips. - -In spite of the pain he suffered, his first words were characteristic of -him. “Well,” he said, grimly, “I’ve blotted out the demons path up that -hill! His nice little path is now in ruins in this valley!” - -But, with a groan of agony, he ejaculated: “Oh! my foot is broken all to -pieces! Oh! O--o--h!” - -For a little time it was difficult for him to keep from screaming with -the pain. - -As soon as he felt a little better, he took off his boot and stocking, -and carefully examined the injured foot, muttering meanwhile between his -groans: “Oh, I hope the demon didn’t hear that noise! How the stones -rattled and thundered! If he heard, he will come rushing out to attack -me, and I am not able to help myself a bit! Oh, what a catastrophe this -is!” - -Poor Henry! That time-honored accident, which, in romance, befalls all -heroes of the chase, had befallen him. “He had sprained his ankle!” - -Only, in this instance, no lovely huntress was to find him, and have -him tenderly conveyed to her dwelling. No sporting companions were with -him, hastily to construct a litter, and smuggle him into the castle -of some incarcerated maiden, whom, making light of his suffering, he -would release from her “turret prison;” and then, drawing the wicked -jailer--her scheming, hunch-backed uncle--out of his concealment, he -would fall upon him, and slay him, without mercy. - -No; no love-marriage was fated to result from that adventure; Henry was -to lie there all alone; and suffer. - -It was sad, but our hero bore it patiently and philosophically. He -believed that he should not be molested by the demon, and that was some -consolation. But Will? Alas! All hope of rescuing him, so far as Henry -was concerned, was at an end. That grieved him more than anything else. - -Slowly the time wore away. As the demon did not come out again, Henry -thought that the noise made by the falling stones had not been heard in -the cave. He was full of anxious and remorseful thoughts for himself as -well as for his cousin; and, much as he revolved the affair in his mind, -he could hit upon no feasible plan of deliverance. - -“If I had only told our folk where we were going,” he reflected, “they -would hunt for us when they find us missing. But now they will be uneasy, -and not know where on earth we are! No; they won’t have the slightest -clue to track us! Oh, dear! What is going to become of us? How is this -spree to end? What about my ankle? What on earth! Well, now are we to -stay here all night? Will in the cave, and I here? ‘So near, and yet so -far!’ My stars! I’ve read that in stories, but I never guessed what it -meant! ‘So near, and yet so far!’ The man that wrote those words knew -more than I ever shall, anyway! Oh! What will the demon do to poor Will?” - -Henry could reason logically, and now, as well as his aching ankle would -permit, he reviewed the whole scheme of visiting the Demon’s Cave. In the -light he now had it seemed very foolish, whichever way he looked at it. - -“It was a humbug,” he acknowledged to himself; “but after all it is just -what all heroes do, and I don’t see why we should not have managed it -better.” - -His sprained ankle pained him intensely; he began to feel the effects -of his involuntary ride down hill; the place where the “bullet” struck -him smarted and itched in a manner to make him writhe. In a word, he was -miserable in both body and mind. - -He reverted to the scene of conflict! “What could have been wrong with -that pistol?” he asked himself angrily. “_Something_ struck me--but -_what_? Certainly, not a bullet. My father says that a big dose of -powder will drive almost anything hard and solid into the flesh. Now, -this struck me, and hurt me; but it didn’t punch a hole through my -vest. Well, if I could only unload this other pistol, I should know to -a certainty.--What became of the pistol Will fired? If he carried it -off with him, he may suddenly scare the demon out of his wits!--Now, -I wonder whether Will loaded my pistols wrong on purpose!--Well, -this _is_ rum old sport, sitting here like a dying gladiator, and -not able to turn over for fear of howling with pain! No; I can’t -budge from this spot!--Botheration! I won’t take Will to see any more -curiosities!--Surely, the demon won’t hurt him!” - -Thus the boy continued, speaking disjointed sentences just as the spirit -moved him. - -As no help came to him, he, the irrepressible, began to despond. It -seemed to him that Death only would come to his release. Suddenly, he -thought of the glass ink bottle hidden behind “Robinson Crusoe” in his -drawer. He dwelt on it for the space of three minutes, and then, between -a sigh and a groan, he said: “I wish I knew whether _she_ would care if I -should die here--alone, and in pain! Would _she_ be sorry, or would she -go to school as light-hearted as ever, and let some other boy sharpen her -pencil? I wonder whether she would borrow Johnny Jones’ history! Oh! how -I despise that boy! I wish I could see him leave the country! I wish now -that I had given her my history out and out; _that_ would keep my memory -green in her eyes.” - -Now, as Henry seldom or never soared higher than comparison,--to make -our meaning clearer, as he was not in the habit of apostrophizing -his treasured glass ink-bottle as an animated being of the feminine -gender,--we must conclude that the veil is lifted from a romance in his -life. - -Do not laugh at him, reader; his woes were actual. In fact, we venture -to assert that every member of the sterner sex, from the age of sixteen -or seventeen till he is happily married, if he has any _feeling_, any -_heart_, any _soul_, suffers more or less acutely from jealousy of a -rival, real or imaginary. - -After a time the moon came out, and dimly lighted up the valley. Henry -was not afraid of goblins; and in sheer desperation he resolved to wait -doggedly till something should happen. - -Notwithstanding all his woes, he began to feel hungry. Then he -recollected that he had set out with a knapsack of sandwiches slung over -his shoulder. - -“It will amuse me, and turn my wandering thoughts into a different -channel,” he muttered, as he felt for the knapsack. - -Alas! In sliding down hill his knapsack had been torn into ribbons, so -that the carefully prepared sandwiches were strewn along the hillside. - -His thoughts were “turned into a different channel;” but he was not very -much “amused.” - -In this way, the time passed with Henry. He could not, or would not, make -an effort to move from the heap of earth which had arrested his downward -course. - -Having thus disposed of him, how did it fare with Will? - -When the demon re-entered the cave, he, according to his custom, fastened -the door. Next he kindled a good fire on the smouldering coals of the old -one; and then, having stepped up to the room where Will was a prisoner, -he unlocked and opened the door and told him to come out. Will did so -with alacrity. - -The demon said no more, but pointed out a seat, and quietly prepared to -get supper. He took a fat bird out of his pouch, and roasted it carefully -over the fire. Then he fixed part of a chicken, a delicious fish, and -sundry other eatables, each on a separate stick, where the fire would -cook them. To Will’s astonishment, he suddenly appeared with a few slices -of bread, which he put on a toaster and toasted while the other things -were being cooked. Now, who ever read about a hermit that toasted bread? - -By the way, the demon, like the writer in inditing these few chapters, -had several “irons in the fire” at once. - -When everything was ready, he set a table with the food thus prepared, -and took a pan of skim-milk from a crazy cupboard built in the wall. - -“Sit down and eat,” he said to Will; “I’ll speak with you afterwards.” - -Will was in no humor to care about eating, and as it was yet early in -the evening he was not hungry; but not liking to refuse the strange -man’s hospitality, he sat down to the table and “ate like an emigrant,” -as Henry would have phrased it. He afterwards told his friends that the -“victuals were very good.” - -After supper the demon cleared off the table and put everything in the -room in far better order than it was when the hero was taken into it. - -Up to this time scarcely a word had been spoken between them. Will was -filled with dread that he had killed, or at least severely hurt, his -cousin. He, of course, did not know that Henry was in full possession -of his senses as he lay on the ground, nor that he was doing this only -to disarm the demon. The wildest fears flashed through his brain; his -sufferings were more intense than Stephen’s had been on the island. He -blamed himself; he blamed Henry; he blamed the pistols; he blamed the -demon. Yet he felt himself utterly unable to escape. And he was troubled -on his own account. What did the demon intend to do with him? Why did -he detain him there? These questions perplexed the boy; and not knowing -what else to do, he tried hard to think it all a dream. But no; it could -not be a dream, for in a dream there is never any smoke to make one -sneeze. Then Henry’s wild tales about the demon’s cannibalism and cruelty -recurred to him. Certainly, the demon’s look was forbidding--almost -ferocious; but Will did not think him capable of torturing any one. He -had too much good sense to think that the man would do him any harm; but -still he feared him, and felt ill at ease in his presence. - -He had had no particular desire to come on this wild-goose-chase, because -he wished to keep out of mischief during his stay at his aunt’s. He was -not so mercurial, whimsical, and romantic, as his cousin, and he had -consented to go as much to please him as for any other reason. - -“I think I shall have to get pa to shut me up, if I ever find my way -back home,” he mused, in his despair. “No matter what I do, something -always comes to grief. I thought surely it would be safe to fly a little -balloon, when Henry had always done it. But no; it must come down, and -set a building on fire! How is it that everything goes wrong with me? -Am I a blockhead, or a fool? Oh dear! I get into worse scrapes every -time; but _this_ is the worst yet--_this_ beats them all! If Henry and I -survive this, I suppose we shall stumble into something that will finish -us entirely! Now, I knew it was wrong to start with loaded pistols, and I -didn’t want to do it. Then, _why_ did I? I deserve all this misery for my -foolishness. But poor Henry! It seems to me now that he _must_ be alive. -Oh! If I could only know!” - -Then he began to wonder how it was that the demon had come upon them so -suddenly. “He was there all at once,” Will said to himself, as he glanced -furtively at the “recluse.” “Did he come from the cave, or the valley, -or the bank, or a hollow in the tree, or the clouds? All I know is, he -wasn’t anywhere near, till suddenly he had me in his arms! And Henry was -as much surprised to see him as I was! Well, the man must be a wizard--or -else a witch, or a humbug! If I could only get away!” - -It has been shown that Henry reflected that no one would know where to -look for them. The same appalling thought occurred to Will. But, like an -inspiration, it came to him that the teamster who had given them a ride -eyed them narrowly as they went up the valley. - -“Now, if that teamster will only do us as good a turn as the sailor did -when we paddled away in the punt,” he said to himself, “we may be saved -yet!” - -Boy-like, the hero pinned his faith on the teamster, and felt -considerably happier. In fact, five minutes more, and he had settled it -in his own mind that, sooner or later, they would be saved through him. - -Some writers, with fiendish ingenuity, seem to set themselves -deliberately to work to unstring the nerves of their weak-headed readers, -so that they shall plunge headlong into unfortunate speculations, and be -ruined. - -But the writer of this history is actuated by no such motives. He, -good soul, uses no guile with his readers, wishes to deprive no one of -needful sleep, and would shrink with horror from tampering with any one’s -business or intellect. - -When the writer was a boy, he read a strong and exciting romance, written -by a master-hand. There were no idle dissertations in it; every chapter, -every paragraph, every sentence, every line, rang with meaning; and it -was so forcibly written that it would captivate a stronger mind than his. -He [your humble servant, “the writer,”] was not content with one perusal, -but read it again, and then lent it to three other boys, who read it with -equal avidity. When returned, he might have been tempted to read it for -the third time; but, alas! those boys, in their eagerness to read, had -apparently neglected to wash their hands; and had turned over the leaves -so hurriedly that it was in a state of dilapidation. - -The writer has nothing to say against that romance. He learned many -things from it, and unhesitatingly pronounces it the best he ever read. -It is still green in his memory--in fact, he looks back on it to-day -with feelings of respect and admiration. But it distracted his thoughts -from his lessons, and muddled his wits to such an extent that he fears -sometimes they are muddled yet. - -Behold the result. A reaction set in, and all preposterous romances, that -one excepted, have become to him an abomination. - -Hence outbursts like the one above. - - - - -_Chapter XX._ - -A GLORIOUS TRIUMPH. - - -We have strayed so far from our subject that the reader may be at a loss -to take our original meaning. If so, when the boys are saved let him -refer to Will’s soliloquy and what immediately follows, and light will -burst upon him. - -Will drew nearer the fire, and looked at the demon with wondering eyes, -as every fifteen minutes or so he swung the huge fan suspended from the -ceiling. This fan effectually cleared the apartment of smoke, but what -became of the smoke was to Will an appalling mystery. - -As time passed, and no relief came, Will’s uneasiness returned. His -anxiety about Henry became intolerable; he could endure it no longer. -Better even to anger the demon than sit in silence and suffer torments. -When he went out, surely he must have seen Henry. - -This hero was one of those extremely patient people who, lest they should -incommode somebody else, will endure untold agony, when a simple question -might set all their doubts and fears at rest. - -“Sir,” he ventured to ask, “do you think he was badly hurt? -Or--or--didn’t you go to look for him?” - -The demon, who had been sitting beside the fire for the last half hour, -with his head resting on his hands and his elbows supported by his knees, -started violently. He had evidently been so deeply absorbed in thought -that he had forgotten another was present. - -“Ha!” he cried excitedly. “Ha! What is this?” (Madmen always say “ha!” -generally twice.) Then, recovering himself, he added, “Yes, yes; I’m -going to speak to you presently. What did you say just now?” - -Will repeated his question. - -“Ho! There _was_ another with you, then!” he exclaimed. “I was afraid -that I had been mistaken again. I am deceived so often that I don’t know -when to believe even myself. Then there was another. But he had gone when -I went out to see. Who was he?” - -Will was thunder-struck. Could he rely on this strange man? If Henry -had gone, he could not have been killed. But where could he be? Had he -forsaken him, his cousin? No; he could not believe that Henry, so noble, -brave, and true, could be guilty of such treachery. Then had he been -found by some one, and taken away? If so, why did he not return with a -band of men to save his cousin? In truth, Will was mystified. If he had -known that the poor boy was near him, lying helpless on the ground, -exposed to the cold night air, and moaning with pain, he would have -thought their case a desperate one indeed. - -At length he collected himself sufficiently to answer the demon’s -question by giving his cousin’s name. - -“And who are you?” asked the madman. - -“William Lawrence.” - -“Why did you two come here?” the demon asked abruptly. - -This was an unexpected question; Will was not prepared to answer it. “To -see the cave,” he said at last. - -“Did you two come alone, or is some one else lurking near?” - -“No, sir; we came entirely alone.” - -“That is well. You did not come to do me any harm?” - -Will thought he could safely say “no” to that. - -After a pause the demon said slowly, as though he had settled it in his -own mind: “You are a good little boy. I like you; you must stay with me; -I want a fine little fellow like you to be with me all the time.” - -Will was struck dumb with consternation. He could not appreciate the -compliment thus paid him. - -“No, sir,” he said imploringly, “I cannot stay here at all. You must let -me out, and I must find my cousin and go home.” - -“No, I cannot let you go! You shall live with me for the rest of my life. -Sit down!” he cried, as Will started to his feet. - -Then he darted to the door, and placed his back against it. - -“But what would my parents say to that? They would never let me stay -here,” Will protested. - -Luckless boy! In his distress he knew not what to do or say. - -“_Parents?_ Have you _parents_?” the demon inquired. - -“Certainly I have,” said Will, with great dignity. - -“Then, why did they allow a little boy, you are only a boy, to come here -at this time of night?” - -Will could say nothing in his defence. He hung his head in confusion. - -“Well, I shall keep you here till morning, at least. If I should let you -go now, how do I know what you two might plot against me? No! Here you -are; here you stay!” - -Will was only a boy, and he did not consider that a strong man is seldom -or never afraid of the machinations of school-boys, so he said earnestly: -“If you let me out immediately, I promise that we will go: home as fast -as possible.” - -The demon continuing inexorable, the boy said desperately, “Sir, we have -friends who will certainly come for us, if you do not let me out.” - -“Say no more,” replied the demon, “for I cannot let you go. Listen: -People take it into their heads sometimes to molest me, _but I always -come out all right_! _I teach them a lesson that they remember!_ Your -punishment will be to remain till I choose to set you free.” - -The horrible stories told by Henry again flashed through the prisoner’s -mind, but he was not terrified. Looking intently at the demon, he fancied -that instead of wickedness he saw playfulness in his eye. - -“He is only trying to frighten me,” was Will’s thought. - -The demon had moved back to the fire after making his last remark, and -presently Will, seeing no other means of escape, sprang to his feet and -rushed headlong towards the door. He had barely reached it when the demon -was upon him. Once more two long and sinewy arms encircled the helpless -boy, and he was borne struggling back to the fire. - -“Treacherous boy!” cried the demon. “I’ll settle your fate in the -morning; now you will have to be locked up in your room.” - -Without another word he carried Will into the bedroom already described, -and laid him upon the bed. - -“Get in between the quilts, and you will be comfortable,” he said, as he -turned to go. - -Again the door was fastened, and again our blundering hero found himself -a close prisoner in the demon’s bedroom. - -His thoughts were far from being pleasant. “If I had had the cleverness -of any other boy, I should not be here now,” he muttered. “By my own -silly questions and answers I only made matters worse. Henry, Charley, -George, or even Marmaduke, could have outwitted him easily; Steve would -have made _him_ a prisoner, ten to one, and escaped at his leisure. Oh! -this is horrible! I _must_ get away!” - -He jumped lightly off the bed, and knelt before the door. By good -fortune, he found a crack through which he could observe every movement -made by the demon. - -“Well, this is a good beginning!” he said, hopefully, “I shall watch till -he goes to bed, and then try again.” - -But the demon, with provoking composure, sat and dozed before his fire. - -Time passed exceedingly slowly to poor Will. He thought it must be near -the middle of the night, while it was not yet ten o’clock. - -At length the madman arose and opened a concealed door in the wall. Then -he lighted a candle, passed in, and shut the door softly behind him. - -Will, like all boys, had a touch of the romantic, and he was delighted -to see Henry’s suspicions verified. His spirits rose, and he chuckled -joyously: “Well, it’s a regular robbers’ den, after all. Concealed doors -and everything to match. If Henry is only alive, and I can get away, it -won’t be so bad, after all! And now that he’s gone I guess I can manage -it, after all!” - -He waited a few minutes, and then began to fumble at his door. While in -the outer room with the demon, he had taken notice of the way in which -this door was fastened, and seen that it was by means of a heavy bolt on -the outside. He had also observed that in the door, above the bolt, there -seemed to be an opening, covered with a shingle that slid back and forth -on the inside. - -Feeling carefully for this shingle, he found it, took out a pin which -held it fast, and shoved it back. - -“The demon ain’t so careful as he wants to be!” Will said sagely. -“Surely, here is a loophole of escape! I wish I could ease my feelings by -heaping up big and meaning words, as Henry or George would do.” - -He waited a few moments in some uneasiness, fearing that the demon might -have heard him tampering with the lock; but as all remained quiet he put -his hand through the opening, and shoved back the bolt. - -The door opened, and Will stood in the outer room. - -Having taken the precaution of shutting and bolting his door, he was -warily drawing near the front door, when a strange sound proceeding from -the demon’s hiding-place attracted his attention. - -He heard the clink of money. - -Will paused. “I’ll see what this means,” he said heroically, “but I’ll -not run the risk of being captured. No; I’m too near freedom to throw -away my chances just to see a crazy man finger his money.” - -Picking up a stick from the smouldering fire, he softly approached the -concealed door. - -Poor boy! Experience should have taught him better than to play the -Robber-Kitten--but when does experience profit a boy? - -His usual luck befell him; he stumbled and fell prostrate with a crash. - -The demon must have heard him, for he had barely regained his feet when, -with a cry of dismay, the concealed door was flung open. On seeing Will, -the demon did not stop to shut it, but darted upon him with fury. In his -headlong course he struck against a stone and fell heavily. - -Will waited to see him rise, and stood ready to defend himself. But -the demon lay upon the floor immovable. His head had struck some hard -substance, and he was insensible. - -Presently Will went up to the demon. “Poor fellow!” he said -compassionately, “he is badly hurt! His fall was serious; mine was only a -stumble. I can’t go away and leave him in this state; I must help him.” - -Tenderly he raised the powerless man, and exerting all his strength, he -dragged him to a bench close by, and laid him on it. Then he saw that the -demon’s head was severely hurt. - -“Now, if he wakes up and finds me taking care of him, he won’t hurt me; -so I shall go and get some water to bathe his head,” was Will’s next -thought. “Henry said there was a spring, or water of some kind, in the -cave, but there is certainly none in this room. Well, I must leave him -and look for some.” - -Snatching up a little pail, he hurried into the room which the demon had -just left. Here he stopped a moment to look about. The room was very much -like the two already described; there was a rude couch in it, but it was -scantily furnished. The demon had evidently given up his “best bedroom” -to Will. - -Our hero’s wandering eyes soon rested on the most noticeable “chattel” in -the room,--a large and strong box, the lid of which lay open. In this box -there was a little pile of silver coins. - -“Hello!” he said, “The demon has some money, after all! This is what he -was jingling and counting, I suppose. Well, there’s no water here; I must -go on.” - -If Will had stopped to count the demon’s treasure, he would have found it -a very modest fortune. In round numbers it amounted to only five dollars. -($5.00.) - - O, golden legends of our youth, - O, thrilling tales of riper years, - How cruelly do you deceive! - -A door stood open, leading from this room into a larger one. - -“I’d better try this,” Will muttered. “It looks dark enough and big -enough for a cavern, and there ought to be water in it, if anywhere.” - -Having made his way into this apartment, Will found it to be spacious, -but dark and desolate. A solitary lamp, which burned feebly, was of -little avail in such darkness. After taking a few steps he heard the -purling of water; and on reaching the spot he found a little stream of -pure water, which doubtless emptied into the brook in the valley, running -over the ground. He filled his pail and hurriedly retraced his steps, -noticing several openings into the outer room, concealed there, but -visible here. - -“Well, this demon _is_ a queer fellow!” he soliloquized, as he went -along. “He seems to have all kinds of hiding-places here, that nobody -knows about. Now, what in the world does he do with so many rooms, and -why does he keep a light burning in this hole? Perhaps he keeps it -burning all the time on account of the darkness. I don’t wonder he has -money; it must take a fortune to live here, for it is just the same as -living in a castle. Well, I’ve explored his secret regions till I’m tired -of it; and I guess Henry was right when he said a band of robbers fitted -it up for a menagerie.” - -A minute later he was again with the demon, whom he found still -insensible. Taking out his handkerchief, he bathed the man’s head gently, -and did everything he could to restore consciousness. But all in vain. - -“Oh, dear!” he cried, “I shall have to leave him and look for Henry. I’m -sure Henry is alive, but I must find him, and then we can come here again -and help the demon.” - -He arose and left the cave. - -The writer has a great deal of boldness in attempting to depict the -emotions of his numerous heroes in their joys or sorrows; but he declines -to say anything about the meeting of the cousins on this occasion. It was -affecting in the extreme. - -As time passed and the boys did not return, Mr. and Mrs. Mortimer became -very uneasy. Being fully aware of their son’s recklessness, they did not -know what danger he and Will might, even at that moment, be incurring. -All day the two had been whispering mysteriously together, as though -contriving some dark scheme; and perhaps, like Don Quixote and his -squire, they had set out in quest of adventures. - -“Why couldn’t they have said where they were going, anyway?” Mr. Mortimer -growled impatiently. - -Mrs. Mortimer was a woman who permitted her son to do very much as he -pleased, never interfering with his plans of amusement as long as he kept -within proper bounds. - -“Henry said he would tell me all about it when he came back; and he -seemed, to be in such a hurry that I didn’t like to question him,” she -said mildly. “I--I think it must be all right.” - -“Let us go up to the boys’ room,” Mr. Mortimer said; “perhaps we can find -a clue to their whereabouts.” - -They went up-stairs immediately. The cousins had not shut the drawer, and -a single glance into it told that they had been loading pistols. - -“Oh! this is horrible!” groaned Mr. Mortimer. “Wasn’t that boy Will sent -here because he got into disgrace about gunpowder?” - -“Yes,” Mrs. Mortimer said faintly. - -“Yes; and now, after trying to destroy the boys in his own village, he -has come here, to put an end to our Henry!” he continued fiercely. “Till -_he_ came, Henry’s balloons were all right, and I was proud of them; but -see how _he_ tampered with his model! Henry never dreamed of loading his -pistols, and going out with them. Henry is full of life, I know; but this -is all that boy’s doings.” - -This was unjust to poor Will; but what parent would have laid the blame -on his own son? - -Seeing that his wife was ready to burst into tears, he moderated his -anger, and said soothingly, “Oh, they’re all right, Nelly; Henry knows -enough to keep out of danger, if Will doesn’t. But I can’t stand this -suspense any longer; I’ll go out and hunt till I find them; and I’ll let -you know as soon as I get on their track.” - -As he went out of the house he muttered audibly: “Well, I must send word -to this boy’s mother to keep him in leading-strings till he’s twenty-one. -How easily we manage Henry! It’s all in management, of course; and if -Mrs. Lawrence would do as well as her sister, Will would be a very good -boy. As it is, he can’t behave himself even away from home; and now the -two are deep in some horrible powder trick!” - -How grieved Henry would have been if he could have heard his father speak -slightingly of his elaborate plot as a “trick”! - -Boys, here is another pretty precept, which you will do well to commit to -memory: _Never associate with those who are smarter than yourselves; for, -if you do, you will be blamed equally with them when they lead you into -mischief._ - -After many fruitless inquiries, Mr. Mortimer at length met with a youth -who told him that about dark he had seen Henry and another boy riding off -with a teamster. Mr. Mortimer felt relieved, and sent word to his wife; -but for some time he could trace them no farther. At last, however, he -found the very teamster,--he having returned to the city,--and from him -he learnt where the boys probably were. - -Having assembled a body of men, he set out for the cave forthwith, and -reached it a few minutes after Will had joined Henry. A happy meeting -took place, and tears of joy and thankfulness trickled down the cheeks of -the knights-errant. Henry was tenderly carried to the road, and put into -a vehicle in waiting. - -Meanwhile, Will was speaking to Mr. Mortimer about the demon. He -listened attentively; and seeing no better way of settling the matter, -he determined to take the unfortunate man home with him. Then, after -fastening up the cave against intruders, the entire party returned to -town. - -On the way, Henry and Will recounted their exploits glibly; the former -nobly taking to himself all the blame, or heroism, the latter putting in -a word now and then to enforce the others remarks. Poor boys! Now that -the affair was over they wished to make the best of it. Mr. Mortimer -listened patiently, and gradually it dawned upon him that his own son had -planned this expedition to the cave. However, as long as _Henry_ had done -it, it must be all right. He did not reprove them for their foolishness; -he was troubled about many things, and feared that his son’s injuries -were more serious than they seemed. - -When the cousins entered the town they found that there was something of -a commotion among the people. Prominent citizens stopped Mr. Mortimer to -express their congratulations, and to see the youths who had “bearded -the lion in his den;” while the little street Arabs gave vent to their -feelings by shouting, “Bully for you!” “Henry’s a bouncer!” “Up with yer -hands, and off with yer hats; Henry’s the boy for to b-u-s-t um!” - -“Will, I guess we’re heroes, after all!” Henry chuckled, “When I was -suffering down there at the foot of the hill, I almost concluded that -we’d made fools of ourselves; but this doesn’t seem like it!” - -“Yes; but I wish they wouldn’t take so much notice of us.” - -“Fiddle! Will, you ought to live in the city!” - -The party moved on. A golden head leaned out of the upper window of -a certain house which they were approaching; the beautiful blue eyes -glanced anxiously up and down the street; a well-known voice--the voice -of the girl who had given Henry a glass ink-bottle--asked timidly of a -passer-by: “Have they found them yet?” - -A certain boy--by name, the estimable Johnny Jones--was loitering near, -blinking with sleep and jealousy; and he took it upon himself to answer -jeeringly: “Found them? Oh, yes; they’ve found the heroes, and they’re -carting them home in the wagon that’s just here.” - -The golden head was drawn in quickly, but the window was not shut. - -The heroes were so near that they heard all. Then again the street Arabs -ran alongside; again they took up their cry. - -Poor Johnny Jones! His envy, or jealousy, was almost too much for him. - -And Henry? - -His heart bounded with delight; he was supremely happy. To hear such -words from _her_ lips was ample recompense for all that he had suffered -or might yet suffer. - -It was nearly five years later; Henry was just twenty-one. He and a -beautiful woman, dressed in bridal costume, were stepping into a railway -carriage that was to take them to a steamer about to set sail for Europe. - -“Will,” he said suddenly, “pull off your hat quick, and bow! I--I can’t; -I’m too stiff.” - -Wonderingly, and, alas! how awkwardly, Will raised his hat. - -After they had passed the house Henry began to wonder what Johnny Jones -had been doing there. Had he been talking to _her_? His eyes flashed -fire; he was miserable. - -Foolish boy, he was troubling himself needlessly. And if he had been more -a philosopher, he would have known that Jonny Jones, in saying those few -jeering words, had forever ruined his cause in the eyes of--------. - -When the cousins reached home, Henry’s remaining pistol was unloaded, and -a hearty laugh followed; for all knew, of course, that both pistols must -have been loaded alike. - -Henceforth, he could have the pleasure of telling his school-mates that -he had been “shot.” There was, however, one drawback: there was no wound -to heal, and there would be no scar to show to doubters. - -Henry was thoroughly warmed; his ankle was rubbed with sundry liniments -and carefully bound up; and then the young adventurers were sent to bed. - -“Well, Will, among other consolations there is this: we don’t sit up till -ten minutes to twelve every night, do we?” - -“No. And we did it, Henry, after all! I explored the whole cave, and I’ll -tell you all about it to-morrow; I’m too tired now. Besides, _we rescued -the demon_!” - -This proves that the heroes had not profited by their sufferings. - -Meantime, the people of the house had been taking care of the madman. -Under their careful treatment he recovered sufficiently to be able to sit -up and converse. - -He also had a “tale to tell,” but deferred telling it till the next day; -and by one o’clock the whole household was wrapped in slumber. - - - - -_Chapter XXI._ - -UNCLE DICK HIMSELF AGAIN. - - -The exposure of that night brought on a severe attack of rheumatism, and -the next day Henry was tossing about on his bed in agony. His sprained -ankle also was very painful. - -A doctor was sent for in haste; and under his treatment and Mrs. -Mortimer’s watchful care, the boy recovered slowly. - -Will was so grieved to see his cousin suffer that he almost fell sick -himself; and he took up his stand at the bedside, so that he might attend -to his slightest wish. - -“I don’t mind being sick so much,” said Henry, as Will was peeling an -orange for him, “because it proves that a fellow’s mother and--and--and -_friends_ care for him, and want him to get well; but, I don’t want the -rheumatism, because it’s mostly old men and hardly used soldiers that -suffer with it.” - -“What should you like to have?” asked Will. - -“Well, Will, I don’t mind telling you. Will, I’ve always had a hankering -to be wounded so that it would leave an honorable scar--a scar that I -could be proud of, you know.” - -The morning after the rescue the demon had a totally different air. He -no longer regarded strangers with suspicion, but frankly and promptly -replied to all who spoke to him. His eyes were calm and benign, no longer -having that “hunted look” which seemed so terrible. In a word, the demon -was no longer a madman; “the blow on his head had restored his reason.” - -In real life this is, we believe, an uncommon occurrence; but in romance -it is becoming intolerably common. It is inserted in novels that are -otherwise good; it haunts some writers like an evil spirit; it is tricked -up in a new garb, sometimes, to throw the unsuspecting reader off his -guard; but if it is there, sooner or later it will crop out--often when -least expected, least desired. - -In fact, whenever the practised reader picks up a tale in which a -_harmless_ maniac figures, his suspicions are at once aroused, and he -flings it aside with a gesture of contempt. - -Having called Mr. Mortimer to his side, the disenthralled man said, with -a pleasant voice, “Sir, I do not know where I am, and I should like -to ask you a few questions. Last night I was not in a humor to make -inquiries, as I was so tired and weak; but this morning I am much better -and stronger. May I ask your name?” - -Mr. Mortimer was surprised at and pleased with the man’s improved -appearance. - -“I am happy to see that you are so much better, sir,” he said. “As to my -name, it is Mortimer; may I, in turn, ask yours?” - -“Certainly, sir; I am Richard Lawrence.” - -Mr. Mortimer started. He perceived that the man who spoke was in full -possession of his reason, quite as sane as he himself. In former years -he had been intimately acquainted with Dick Lawrence; the story of the -“mysterious disappearance” was familiar to him; and he thought that at -last the mystery was to be solved. - -He seized Lawrence’s hand and shook it heartily. - -“Don’t you remember me, old friend?” he said. “Don’t you remember when -you beat me in that race, so long ago? And besides, we are almost related -to each other; for, as you surely remember, your brother and I married -sisters.” - -A long conversation followed between the two reunited friends. The events -of other years were spoken of with peculiar pleasure, and Mr. Mortimer -told his friend what had been taking place in the world of late years. - -“Well, now, I had almost forgotten!” Mr. Mortimer suddenly exclaimed. -“Your nephew Will is in this very house! You will remember him as a very -little boy; and now he is a--a--now he is a great big boy. I must bring -him in immediately.” - -He hurried out of the room and soon returned with Will, saying -apologetically, “You must excuse me, Will, but when two old friends meet, -they forget that there are boys still in the world, and remember only -that they were once boys themselves.” Then to his guest: “Mr. Lawrence, I -have the pleasure of introducing your nephew Will, who is on a visit to -my son. I think it is safe to say that you owe your deliverance to these -hare-brained youths. You will hear graphic particulars of it afterwards.” - -A happy meeting took place between uncle and nephew, the former being -highly pleased with his new-found kinsman. - -“Yes,” Mr. Mortimer resumed, “this is your nephew Will; a fine little -fellow, who had a strange interview with you last night. Have you any -recollection of it?” - -“Not the slightest; so far as I know, I have not seen the boy since, -since--when?” - -“Ten years, uncle.” - -“Then you know nothing about your life in the cave?” Mr. Mortimer asked. - -“You are speaking in riddles, Mr. Mortimer.” - -“My son, Will’s cousin, is ill to-day, or I should present him; for he, -dear boy, was instrumental in your release,” the fond father observed, -wishing that his son should receive due honor for his good deeds. - -Mr. Lawrence was impatient to see his brother, but there were several -matters to attend to before this could be done. - -“There is a strange tale yet to be unfolded, Mr. Mortimer,” he said -musingly. “I must visit the town where insanity first took hold of me. -There are many things not clear to me; but I believe that by going there, -I shall be enabled to unriddle the mystery. A foul wrong was done to me -in that place, and I will have justice. As I intimated, I know absolutely -nothing of what took place while I was insane; but I believe all that can -be made clear by making diligent inquiries of people living in R----. -Yes, I shall go to this place in a day or so; then take a run down to my -brother’s; and come back just in time to go home with Will. But first of -all, I shall visit the cave where I spent so many years; and you and my -nephew must accompany me. I am full of curiosity to see the place, but I -suppose I shall have to be piloted through it.” - -A day or so afterwards Mr. Lawrence felt stronger, and the three set out -to explore the cave. Will thought that he was going to the Demon’s Cave -under very different circumstances, and sighed because Henry was unable -to accompany them. But Henry was destined never to enter that cave. - -When they arrived at the place, they perceived that some one was there -before them, as the door stood open. As they passed in they heard -a confused murmur of voices, together with whistling, singing, and -hallooing. Evidently, the intruders were trying to keep up their spirits -and intimidate any goblins that might be hovering near. A great fire was -blazing in the old place, but the explorers seemed to be in the largest -cave. - -Suddenly the new-comers were heard, and a howl of horror came from the -explorers. - -“Oh, golly! It’s the demon or somethin’ else!” wailed one. - -Then two wild and fearful eyes peered out through the concealed door, and -a voice quavered: “N-o-o, it ain’t the demon; but I guess we’d better -clear!” - -Seven gaunt youths stole through the concealed door; glanced fearfully -at the new-comers; and then broke and fled tumultuously out of the front -entrance. - -The two men smiled; the boy laughed. - -“A boy is the same creature that he was when I was young,” Mr. Lawrence -observed. - -“They’re the very fellow’s that cheered us the other night,” said Will. -“I guess they wanted to be ‘bouncers’ too.” - -“Now, why in this world did the little rogues make a fire?” Mr. Mortimer -queried. - -“That question is easily answered,” said Mr. Lawrence. “When a boy comes -upon a heap of wood, the temptation to kindle a fire, if he has any means -of doing so, is too great for him to resist.” - -“And you see nothing here that is familiar to you?” asked Mr. Mortimer. - -“No; everything is strange to me; and I must apply to Will to lead the -way.” - -“Uncle, how queer it is that I should know more about your cave than you -do!” said Will, grinning foolishly. “It doesn’t seem that you are the -same man that picked me up and carried me off.” - -“That’s because I’ve visited the tailor and the barber, Will.” - -“Well, uncle, if I hadn’t been through the cave that night, we shouldn’t -know anything about the money.” - -“Money!” cried both men, in a breath. - -“Yes,” Will replied. “I found a little pile of money, but so many queer -things happened since that I forgot all about it. Come this way, uncle; -it is in this room.” - -“Your lost fortune!” Mr. Mortimer exclaimed. - -“Perhaps,” sighed Uncle Dick. - -“If those explorers have not enriched themselves with it!” - -But the treasure was found untouched. - -“Is _this_ what you found?” cried Mr. Mortimer, with disgust. “_This_ is -intolerable--monstrous--outrageous! This--this--” - -“No, I think it’s all right,” said Mr. Lawrence. “There is a mystery -behind it, but when that mystery is cleared up, I think we shall find -that this is all there is left.” - -“I guess the boys didn’t see it,” Will observed, “or else they were -afraid to meddle with it.” - -“No,” said Uncle Dick, “a boy has more honesty than most people imagine. -Well, Will, what there is, is yours. Take it, Will; it won’t fill more -than one pocket; but I wish, for your sake, it were a fortune indeed.” - -“If I hadn’t left these inside doors open, the boys wouldn’t have been -able to explore these two rooms,” Will presently remarked. “Now, I wonder -whether they found those hens and chickens! _I_ didn’t, but I didn’t look -for them.” - -“‘Hens and chickens!’” growled Mr. Mortimer. “What’s the matter now, -Will?” - -“Why, Henry said the demon--I--I mean my _uncle_--had lots of hens and -chickens here, and I heard them clucking several times while I was in the -cave; but I never saw’ a scratch of them.” - -“Perhaps the young explorers made away with _them_,” Uncle Dick suggested. - -“No, uncle, they found their way here only because I had left the -concealed doors open,” Will said. “I guess the hens are some place else.” - -“We don’t know how many hidden chambers there may be here, nor what -secrets they may hold,” Mr. Mortimer sighed despairingly. - -“There can’t be many more,” Uncle Dick replied. “We’ll say there is one -more apartment, in which my nephew’s hens are cooped up. Now, unless -they set up a cackling, how are we to know where to look for them? I -think we had better leave them to their fate. No! Will, listen! When we -get back to town, speak about these hens incidentally to some little -tobacco-chewer, and within an hour a force of would-be desperadoes will -troop down to this cave, and liberate these hens or perish in the ruins -of the general demolition!” - -To economize time and space, to ease the reader’s anxiety, and to -maintain the reputation of this history for exactness and solidity, it -may here be stated that although Will set a band of street Arabs on the -track of those miserable hens and chickens, they were never found, and -the probability is that they are slowly becoming fossils. - -The three then made a burning stave serve for a torch, and marched -through the cavern in which Will had found the water. Then they returned -and went into the “best bedroom.” - -“I have a fancy that there is money buried here,--buried, or concealed in -some article of furniture,” Mr. Mortimer observed. - -“I doubt that,” said Uncle Dick. “Now, if your son were well, he and Will -might come here and ransack every cavern. What a pity we interrupted -those boys! They would have amused themselves here all day, and would -certainly have found whatever there may be to find! Poor little fellows, -their fun had just begun! Well, they will be back again, and then they -are welcome to all the spoil they can carry away.” - -Having fastened the outer door, the party returned to the city. - - - - -_Chapter XXII._ - -UNCLE DICK EVOLVES HIS STORY. - - -The next day Mr. Lawrence, leaving his nephew still with Henry, went to -the town of which he had spoken. Here insanity had taken hold of him, and -here he expected to unravel his mysteries. - -The two boys laid their heads together, and arrived at the conclusion -that the world is not hollow, after all; and that if they were not heroes -yet, a few years would make them so. - -“The stuff is in us, Will; all we have to do is to work it up.” - -“Yes, Henry; and when you come to see me, the people in our neighborhood -had better be prepared. There are no captives for us to rescue, but I -guess you can hit on something good.” - -“Why, Will,” said Henry, smiling his delight, “you are almost getting to -be like any other boy! You--you talk sensibly. What has come over you?” - -“Well, when I saw that good came from our journey to the cave, and that -we rescued my uncle, I concluded that I had been wrong and you right. I -guess it’s safe to play tricks with you, anyway; and----” - -“‘Tricks!’” echoed Henry, scowling horribly. - -“No, no!” Will hastily declared. “I--I--mean--Henry--Don’t be vexed, -Henry; I meant _stratagems_!” - -The affronted patient softened. “Yes, that is the word you meant, Will,” -he said, “but you always ought to say what you mean. I always do; and so -I never have to stumble, and correct myself, and appear as though I don’t -know what I’m talking about.” - -Will’s eyes expressed a mild rebuke. - -Henry was not fluent in making apologies; on this occasion he simply -said, with a look of pain that spoke volumes in his behalf: “It’s in my -left knee, Will; hand me that bottle, please.” - -“Next time I venture on any more stratagems,--if I ever do venture on any -more,--I’ll warn all the sailors and teamsters in the settlement, so -that I can be rescued just in the nick of time,” Will Said good humoredly. - -“Yes, as long as they didn’t follow too close at your heels, and spoil -the fun. Well, Will, I knew I could cure you if you stayed with me long -enough; but I didn’t expect to do it so soon.” - -When the patient was easy Will read to him. The books that pleased them -most were about mustached heroes who cruised in Polynesia, discovering -“sea-girt isles” which Captain Cook and later navigators had missed, and -which almost invariably held captive some ragged individual, who, after -divers adventures with pirates and Chinamen, had finally succeeded in -nailing $795,143 up in a mahogany coffin, only to be shipwrecked with it. - -In after years Will looked back on those days spent with Henry as the -pleasantest in his boyhood. He had no haunting dreams; got into no -disgrace; and, except when he thought of poor Stephen, felt no reproaches -of conscience. - -One day the mother of the girl who had given Henry a glass ink-bottle -came in to inquire personally after his health. - -“I heard you were getting better, Henry, but I thought I should like to -come and see for myself,” she said pleasantly. - -“I wonder now if _she_ didn’t hint to her mother to do this!” Henry -thought to himself. “I believe she did; but I wish I knew. Why can’t -folks tell the truth, anyway, and say right out how it is! How am I to -find out! I know when _she_ had a bad cold, I hinted till my mother went -there to ask about her! Botheration! I _will_ know!” - -“It’s very good of you to take so much interest in me,” he ventured, -slightly emphasizing the word _you_. - -“Yes, Henry, when I saw the doctor call here twice yesterday I thought I -must step in and see you.” - -The boy was silenced, but not satisfied. - -“I’ve brought a book for you, Henry, that I think you will like,” she -said, taking a handsomely bound volume out of her reticule and laying it -on a stand at Henry’s elbow. - -He picked it up. “_Her_ book!” he thought exultingly. “I know it’s hers, -for I’ve heard her speak of it. She sent it to me! Of course she did. -_She sent it!_” - -Once more his heart bounded with ecstasy; once more he was supremely -happy. The blood rushed to his face; his lips quivered; his hands -trembled. - -The visitor remarked this, and turning to Mrs. Mortimer said -sympathetically, “Poor boy! How patiently he bears it!” - -Then, stepping up to the bedside, she laid her hands on his head, kissed -his forehead gently and affectionately, and asked softly, “Is the pain -very bad, Henry?” - -It seemed to Henry that his heart stood still. - -“It is _her_ mother,” he thought, “and she has kissed me!” - -Their eyes met. A woman perceives many things intuitively; Henry’s secret -was hers from that moment. For all answer she kissed him again. From that -day the two were firm and true friends. - -When Henry found himself alone he examined every leaf of that book -carefully. - -“_She_ sent it,” he muttered, “and perhaps there is something written in -it. She may have written, ‘I hope you will like this book, Henry;’ or, -‘This is the story we spoke of, Henry;’ or, ‘When will you be able to -start to school again, Henry?’” - -The observing reader will perceive that in each of those sentences the -hero’s own name occurs. Henry was capable of strong feelings; in some -respects he was a boy; in others, a man. - -At last, at the top of a useless fly-leaf, he came upon two initial -letters. They were not hers; they were not his. The writing was very bad; -he could not recognize it. He did not consider that a book-seller often -scrawls a cipher or two on the fly-leaves of his books. He was mystified. - -Jealousy, however, soon suggested an explanation; jealousy pointed out -that those characters were written by _her_, and that they stood for “J. -J.” - -Once more he was miserable. - -He saw Johnny Jones in his true colors; saw all his defects, all his -emptiness, all his insignificance, all his baseness. And yet he was -jealous! - -The lover very often feels his rival to be the most despicable person on -the face of the earth; and yet, at the same instant, he fears that rival, -despicable as he is, will steal away the heart of his beloved. - -To a man whose thoughts never rise above the earth on which he -walks, this may seem preposterous; but it is true, and may easily be -explained--so easily, in fact, that the writer leaves it for some one who -can do so more ably and clearly than himself. - -It has been said that Henry was fated never to explore the Demon’s Cave. -He never did. - -The City Fathers, fearing, in their wisdom, that the cave might become -the haunt of evil characters or the lair of some wild beast, convoked a -council, and drew up a document which began and ended thus: - -“Whereas, ... - -“Resolved, that said cave be forthwith demolished.” - -Then five men and two hundred and seventy-three or seventy-four boys fell -to work upon it, and executed this command to the letter. The Demon’s -Cave had served its purpose: it was no more. - -The view from the opposite bank was marred; but the City Fathers knew -that they had done their duty, and their conscience was easy. - -After an absence of a week Uncle Dick returned to Mr. Mortimer’s. He -had visited the little city; solved his mysteries; and been to see his -brother. - -He made himself comfortable in an easy chair, and while those interested -in him listened attentively, he romanced as follows:-- - -“Several years ago, when I was still a young man, by prudent and lawful -speculations I amassed a fortune. But I was not satisfied; I still wished -for more; and one day when a stranger came to me with wonderful stories -about making colossal fortunes in a far-off part of the world, I listened -eagerly, and secretly resolved to settle my affairs and hasten away with -him. I should need every dollar I possessed to embark in this scheme, -the stranger told me; and the sooner I could get away, the sooner I -should return to my native country a rich man. - -“I kept my purpose hidden from my nearest friends, and got together all -my money as secretly as possible. I was not to deposit this money in a -bank, and draw it as I needed it; oh, no! I must pack it up snugly in a -strong trunk, and take it all with me. This man, Black, advised me to -‘keep my own counsel to the very last;’ and I also knew that my people -would oppose my taking up with an entire stranger, and embarking in such -a wild-goose chase. Consequently he, and I, and the trunk of funds, -stole away like criminals, leaving only a short note of farewell and -explanation behind us. By the way, Mr. Mortimer, my brother tells me that -he received no such note, and I must infer that Black found means to -destroy it. - -“I knew that I was acting dishonorably, but I excused my conduct to -myself by thinking I should soon return in triumph, worth millions. At -that date, enormous wealth was the summit of my ambitions; and it must -come suddenly and easily; petty speculation had become tiresome to me, -and I wished to wake up some morning and find myself a nabob. - -“In a certain city--the place to which I went after leaving you--we -halted, ‘to complete our arrangements,’ as my betrayer put it, if I -remember rightly. Having entered a small and out-of-the-way building, -which he called his own, probably correctly, I was assaulted by him and -another villain who was unknown to me. I remember distinctly Black’s -saying to this man, ‘Now, Bill, a heavy blow on his head, and he is dead. -Then his trunk of money is ours!’ I started to my feet, but at that -instant a furious blow was struck at my head, and I, poor fool, knew no -more. - -“My object in going to that city last week was to see whether I could -learn what had happened to me from the time of that attempted murder -till I appeared here as the ‘Demon of the Cave,’ In this I succeeded -very well. It seems that the police were on these men’s track, and that -they broke into the building just after I had been knocked down. The -villains, Black and his accomplice, doubtless thought me dead, or else -meant to deal another blow, but had not time. Their crime was bootless; -for they were thrown into prison, tried in due time, and sent into penal -servitude, where they are still. - -“Then I was taken to an hospital; but as I had scarcely anything with -me, except my clothes and my chest of money, no clue could be found to -inform my friends of my whereabouts. So they kept me on there, within a -few hundred miles of my home, and took the greatest care of me. The cruel -blow on my head had taken away my reason, and all the doctors of the -hospital could not restore it. - -“What puzzles me is that my friends did not find me in process of time, -as the whole affair was published in the newspapers. Well, I suppose they -thought of me as being far away and that I could not possibly be the -madman in K. Hospital. I never saw the account in the newspapers, and the -description of the madman may not have tallied with the Uncle Dick of the -country village. - -“And now comes the most extraordinary part of my story. I was ill in the -hospital for several weeks, and meanwhile the authorities took charge -of my chest. It seems that I was aware my money was in it, and with all -a maniac’s cunning I kept watch over it. One day, when my bodily health -and strength were quite restored, both I and my chest of treasure were -missing! - -“So the story runs; but there I am bothered; there is mystery. From -that day all is dark to me; all is a blank; and I can only speculate. -I am left to suppose, then, that I made off with my chest of money; -roamed over the country in search of a home; came upon the cave in this -neighborhood; and established myself in it! - -“Now, that is contrary to reason--in fact, it would require a powerful -imagination to put any faith in such a cock-and-bull story. - -“I have a notion that a great deal of my money was taken either by -dishonest servants while in the hospital, or else by thieves after I left -it; and I think even that I was robbed of the whole amount, and came upon -some money in the cave. How could a lunatic make his way through the -country with a chest of money, and not be molested? It is impossible. In -fact, Mr. Mortimer, from the moment I left the hospital till I took up -my abode in the cave, it is all a muddle to me. It may be explained some -day; but it is all a muddle to me now. - -“From inquiries I made in this place, I found that a dealer brought me -supplies while I lived in the cave, and that I paid him for them. I -hunted him out, and he told me he made my acquaintance through another -man, when I first came here. He is a simple, honest, old man, incapable -of cheating even a madman; and I am satisfied that he acted fairly with -me, and had no hand in my coming to the cave. - -“But who is the other? I believe the whole question hinges on that; and -if we could meet with him, I would force the secret from him. The dealer -affirms that he knows nothing about this man; he saw him only once; and -then he told him (the dealer) to send supplies to an eccentric man who -intended to live for a short time in what was then called simply, ‘The -Cave.’ But, alas! it continued through ten years! - -“While living in the cave, I am told that I was continually on the watch -against robbers; which proves conclusively, I think, that people of that -calling preyed upon me either before or after I left the hospital. - -“Mr. Mortimer, as far as I can make it out, this is my story. It is not -much, but I have made the best of it.” The next day Mr. Lawrence and -his nephew set out for home. The long-lost man had, at length, after an -absence of ten years, returned. - -He lived with his brother, and for a few weeks, did nothing. Ten years -in a cave had undermined his health, but as soon as his constitution -regained its natural vigor, he went into business on his own account. At -forty he found himself penniless, and obliged to begin life anew; ten -years were as though they had not been, and he had summarily got rid of a -fortune. - -He was of a cheerful and hopeful disposition, and did not grieve about -this; still, he could not help thinking what misery would have been -spared if he had not trusted himself implicitly to a villain. - -For the present Uncle Dick must sink into oblivion. He will be -resuscitated, however, at the proper time. - -Will was received by his parents with open arms. He had behaved nobly; -he was a little hero. All the praise must be given to him, of course. -Had he not rescued his uncle, alone and unaided? Had he not done all in -his power to help that uncle when he lay helpless in his cave? Had he -not stayed by him and tended him? Had he not explored the horrible place -known as the Demons Cave? He had; he had done all this; and yet come off -without a scratch! - -Of course, Henry meant well, but he had no hand in rescuing Uncle -Dick--he had not even entered the cave. Henry was a good, a manly little -fellow, but in that affair he had been only a figure-head. - -Will found that Stephen was recovering fast. His school-fellows crowded -round him and listened eagerly while he dilated on his cousin’s and -his own exploits. Now that the affair was happily over, he delighted -in telling them about his “adventures” in the cave, and Marmaduke, -especially, delighted in hearing them. To him, Henry was a mighty hero. - -The affair with Stephen sobered the others for a time, and when the poor -boy again appeared among them, nothing they could do for him was left -undone. He was a martyr in their eyes, and they willingly left off their -own sports to talk to him. Under these kind attentions, what wonder is it -that the boy soon recovered his health, strength, and spirits? - -The whole tribe of heroes kept clear of tricks and misdeeds till the -following summer; but Will, of course, committed his diverting little -blunders daily. But it would be foolish to chronicle them. - -As for Henry, he recovered rapidly, and when Will and his uncle left he -was a great deal better. He missed Will very much, but he did not suffer -a relapse. He put his remaining pistol carefully away, vowing to load it -himself, if he should be tempted to use it again. As for the one which -Will discharged, it was lost the night of the expedition to the cave. - - - - -_Chapter XXIII._ - -THE SAGE’S EXPERIMENT. - - -It is summer again. The six are enjoying themselves as usual, but are -playing no tricks worthy of mention. Considering all things, it is -surprising that they have kept out of mischief so long. - -But the Sage was revolving a certain matter in his mind. He had been -reading about Capt. Kidd the pirate, and the treasures he is said to have -buried. He did not believe there were any such treasures,--at least, he -thought he did not,--and to show how erroneous all those old traditions -are, he resolved to make what he called an experiment. - -“Look here, boys,” he said to his school-fellows, “wouldn’t it be capital -to look for gold some day; some of Capt. Kidd’s gold, you know!” - -“No, George, I guess we don’t know much about it; so go ahead and tell -us,” Stephen replied. - -“You’ve heard the stories about his buried treasures, of course. Well, -let us follow the directions, and look for a stray treasure some night.” - -“What directions?” Stephen asked. That day he seemed to be in a humor to -persecute somebody. - -“Why, the directions given in fortune-telling books for finding buried -treasures,” George said good-humoredly. “I have a good necromancer’s -book, and I have studied this thing all out. So, suppose we go to work -and try it, just to prove how nonsensical all such stories are, and what -a humbug necromancy is. Boys, it would be sport.” - -“The very thing!” Charles exclaimed. “Now, tell us all about it.” - -“Well, I’m glad some one can understand my meaning,” the Sage said -smilingly. “We must go along the banks of some river at night, when the -moon rises just as the sun sets. When the moon throws the person’s -shadow four feet up into an evergreen, any evergreen tree, stop and say -over some enchantment. Then shoot an arrow straight up into the air, and -it will strike the water--at least it ought to strike it. Shoot another, -and it ought to fall at your feet. Shoot one more, and it will light -on the ground exactly over your treasure. But you must dig for it with -paddles.” - -“Paddles!” cried the boys. - -“Yes, dig two feet with paddles, or the treasure will escape. Then you -may take spades, or anything you choose, to dig with; and six feet down -you’ll find it.” - -“How wonderful!” Marmaduke exclaimed languidly. - -“How foolish, you mean,” wise Will observed. “Really, George, I used to -think you had more common sense. Who cares about paddles, and arrow’s, -and necromancers, and moons, and shadow’s, and rivers, and--and--now, -George, you know such tomfoolery isn’t worth listening to.” - -“Of course I don’t believe it,” George replied earnestly; “I only want to -expose it.” - -Charles and Stephen had been whispering together and exchanging winks -while the others were speaking, and the former now said, with feigned -seriousness: “Certainly you don’t, George. It’s a likely story that -a boy like you believes in a bald-headed, goggle-eyed, broken-nosed -necromancer, that never washes his hands, nor blows his broken nose, nor -combs his whiskers, nor cuts his toenails. No, George, you read too much -science to believe in such a dilapidated ruin as a necromancer must be; -but, as you say, it would be roaring fun to follow his directions. How -right and praiseworthy to expose the superstitions of the wicked old -necromancer! Boys, let us go, by all means!” - -George looked at the speaker rather suspiciously; but seeing how grave -and earnest he appeared, never guessed that he was laughing inwardly. -He replied warmly, “You’re a true friend, Charley. You understand my -motives, and see what little faith I put in the old necromancer. Now, -boys, you must give in that we could get a great deal of amusement out -of this. Honestly, couldn’t we?” - -“It’ll be the best fun we’ve had yet!” Steve declared. “But doesn’t he -give any more directions, George?” - -“Oh, yes. There is a page of what you’re to do and say, and if we should -conclude to make the experiment I’ll learn it, for you mustn’t take the -book along with you.” - -“Of course not,” Charles said promptly. “Well, you’ll go, won’t you, -Will?” - -“Wouldn’t miss going for anything!” Will replied with decision. - -Without stopping to wonder at the sudden change in Will’s and Steve’s -opinions, the sage continued, “According to the almanac, this is the very -night for us to go, because the moon rises as the sun sets.” - -“Exactly;” commented Stephen. “And the river is our river, of course. As -for the evergreen, I know where there is a fine tall one near the river. -We must start just at the right time to have the shadow according to the -rule when we arrive at the evergreen. Now, boys, I’ll scare up a good bow -and half a dozen arrows; and Charley, I’m sure, can bring a long-handled -spade; and Will can supply us with an oar or two. If the book says -anything else is needed, George, you must see to it, for you, of course, -will be our leader.” - -George gracefully acknowledged this tribute to his merit. - -Jim now spoke for the first time. “But what has all this to do with -Captain Kidd?” he asked. - -Ever since Will’s experience in the cave he had been filled with lofty -ideas, and now, in his wisdom, he thought this the first weighty remark -that had been made. - -George replied thus: “We don’t know of any other man that would be -foolish enough to bury treasures, Jim, so let us suppose that we are -looking for one of Kidd’s.--All in sport, of course.” - -Will looked at the Sage with pity that was not akin to love, and -observed, “Now, George, I haven’t been reading the history of Captain -Kidd, as you have, but I know well enough that he never buried any money -in these parts _because it stands to reason he was never here_! Perhaps -he buried some along the sea-coast, but certainly none in this far-off -wilderness--as it was then.” - -This argument was irrefutable; the Sage was mute. With all his reading, -all his knowledge, was he to be insulted thus? - -In fact, he looked so woe-begone that Charles came to his relief, saying, -“Never mind Mr. Kidd, boys; let us follow the necromancers orders -blindly.” - -All agreed to do this, and soon afterwards they separated. - -All unknown to them, they had had a listener. The conversation had taken -place in the school-grounds, and a great over-grown boy had seen them, -and drawn near enough to hear every word. As a wood-pile was between -him and the heroes, he escaped notice. This “great, hulking lubber,” as -Charles called him, was the boy who had been bitten by Stephen’s dog -several months before, and who, as was intimated, thirsted for revenge. -Ever since that time he had dogged the six, in the vain hope of detecting -them in some evil scheme. - -He was a cowardly, treacherous boy, this Bob Herriman, or he would not -have played the eaves-dropper on this occasion. He now resolved to -precede the boys, hide himself in the evergreen, and do his best to -torment them. - -Most horrible revenge, truly! - -“I’ll get there ahead of ’em,” he muttered, “and climb the tree Stepping -Hen (the opprobrious nickname by which, in his anger, he privately knew -Stephen) spoke of! I think I know the very tree. I’ll yell, perhaps, or -scare ’em awful in some way, and if they do any harm to anything, I’ll -tell on ’em! Oh! what fun!” - -Then this embryo villain strutted away, with a mischievous look--a look -that boded ill to the Sage’s experiment. He was an _immoral_ boy, while -Will and his companions were only _boyish_, and full of animal spirits. - -The boys longed for night to come, as they imagined they could easily -confute the vile and slovenly old necromancer’s errors, and find food for -laughter. Some time before sunset they turned out in force, and mustered -just below the falls. Everything that could possibly be made useful was -on hand. George, poor boy, had freighted himself with a coil of heavy -rope, but he bore up bravely, and strode onward without a groan. - -When they were fairly started, Charles suddenly in-inquired of him: “What -in the world have you brought that rope along for, George?” - -“To draw the treasure home with,” was the somewhat startling answer, -coolly given. - -“The treasure!” Charles cried. “Why, I thought you ‘put no faith’ in -that! and besides, you can’t draw gold and silver with a rope!” - -“Don’t be foolish,” the Sage replied. “I believe in no treasure at all; -but you must _pretend_ to believe in it, or else you will never get it. -As for taking it home with a rope, the book says it will be in a huge -chest, bound with iron bands. Therefore, I bring this rope along to make -the spirits believe I believe in their beliefs.” - -Having made this logical explanation, the Sage panted for breath, but -drew himself up proudly, and looked defiantly on his tormentor, crushing -him beneath his eloquence and his aspect. - -Charles finally uttered an “Oh!” of relief, and then the procession moved -on. - -As the sun sank lower and lower, the boys hastened more and more. Will -had calculated the time very accurately, and said it was foolish to -hurry; but his school-fellows were aware of his failing, and for fear he -had made a mistake, they were too impatient to proceed leisurely. - -Notwithstanding the ridicule which the boys cast upon George for his -strict observance of all the “directions,” they did not wish to omit any -of them in making the experiment. Accordingly, all were anxious to arrive -at the evergreen just in time to have the moon throw a shadow on it four -feet high. - -And by some strange chance they did. - -As soon as the tree came in sight, Steve exclaimed, “There it is, boys! -The very same, identical, self-same tree!” - -“Its very close to the water,” George growled, as he made a vain effort -to ease his aching shoulders. - -“It’s from two to five feet from the water,” Steve replied. “That’s -plenty of room to go between it and the shore, and plenty of room to -measure the fine shadow there will be.” - -“Then we must draw cuts to see whether it’s the right evergreen, as the -book says.” - -This was done, and they found that this was the tree intended. - -Again they marched on, and presently stood before the mystic tree. - -The Sage halted, and threw down the coil of rope with a sigh of relief. -“The coast is clear, boys,” he said, joyously. “There is no one here -swimming, or out boating, or shooting squirrels, or----” - -“Or fishing for water-snakes and crunching peppermint candy,” Steve put -in, as a finale. - -For a moment George looked vexed; but this was Stephen’s way, and he knew -no insult was intended. - -If the boys had known that this very evergreen, under which they stood, -harbored an enemy, they would have acted differently. Bob Herriman had -ensconced himself in this tree, and even while Steve spoke, he was trying -to rub the gum off his hands and clothes, and glaring wickedly down at -the heroic six and the equally heroic dog, Carlo. - -“Well, boys,” George observed, “I must go on alone, with Steve close -behind to measure my shadow. If we all go crowding along together, -somebody will get shoved into the river.” - -The wisdom of this was so apparent that the rest waited patiently while -the other two went on. - -George walked cautiously along the bank of the river, and when the rising -moon threw a faint shadow of his figure on the bark of the evergreen, he -halted. Stephen, however, stepped up so briskly and boldly, and so near -the brink, that shovelfuls of loose earth rattled down into the water. -When he reached George he whipped a homemade folding ruler out of his -pocket, and applied it to the shadow. - -“Just four feet!” he cried, excitedly. - -George looked on complacently, and the boys in waiting, hearing Steve’s -remark, uttered a shout of surprise and delight. - -“Stop! stop!” George cried, angrily: “I cannot allow such a noise!” - -A dead silence ensued. The four moved on till they had passed the tree, -and then George and Stephen joined them. - -“That tree is very thick up among the branches,” Jim observed. - -“Never mind that,” Charles said. “Now, George, it’s time to go to work. -Are you sure you know the verses?” - -“_What_ verses?” the Sage asked, indignantly. - -“Why, the necromancer’s, of course.” - -“You call it ‘verses,’ do you? Well, Charley, a boy generally does. But -you should say ‘poetry.’ Now, this is genuine poetry--an ode, an--an----. -Well, the book says it’s an Apostrophe, or Address to----” - -“Fiddle-sticks! George, do you know it?” - -The Sage made no answer, but, facing the river and the moon, he drew -himself up proudly, and merely observing that he must have silence, -cleared his throat for action. - -The rest were all behind him, and so escaped notice. Then each one -took out his handkerchief and dammed up that organ which is the seat -of laughter. By this means they succeeded in choking back all their -merriment, and behaved so well that poor George was highly gratified. - -It must have been a comical sight to Bob Herriman in his tree. At all -events, he gazed at the different actors with open mouth and ears, while -the Sage delivered the following: - - ADDRESS TO THE BENIGN SPIRITS OF RIVERS AND STREAMS. - - O, all ye spirits, sprites, and elves, come, listen unto me, - A humble mortal who would seek light on some points from ye. - To _me_ ’tis known, bright roving sprites, that countless treasures rust - In caves, in seas, in shady dells,--or even in the dust. - To _you_ ’tis known, O spirits bright, where millions may be found; - Where gold and silver, precious stones, and gems of earth abound. - Why should ye not disclose the place where some of these lie hid? - In awful depths, in gloomy wastes, or flowery bowers amid? - From those who put their trust in you, O spirits, elves, and sprites, - Why will ye always flee away, not giving them their rights? - Tell me, I pray you, airy sprites, and fairies good and kind, - Where I, through your great influence, may some lost treasure find. - Tell me, O all ye sprightly elves and fairies that I see, - And I will your most faithful friend and servant ever be. - I long for wealth, for ease and peace, for honour, fame, and might; - O spirits, hasten--hasten---- - -George hesitated, stammered, stopped! The necromancers rhymes were too -much for his already overstocked brain. He made one more desperate -effort, but Charles, with his habitual promptness, cut him short, -shouting: - - “----hasten us out of this sad plight!” - -At this, the others tore out their handkerchiefs and laughed derisively. - -George wheeled round quickly, and just in time to see five handkerchiefs -shoved into as many pockets. He did not know what they had been doing -with their handkerchiefs, but he was angry, and he said, snappishly: -“Look here, if you boys can’t behave any better than that, you had better -stay at home! I didn’t come here to amuse gigglers, and I won’t do it. -No; I’ll stop right here; I won’t go on with the experiment.” - -Charles knew’ that this was only an idle threat, but he said, hastily: -“Now, George, you’re too old and too sensible to be vexed because we -laugh at what is comical. To-morrow you’ll laugh yourself. And besides, -what did we come here for? To rout the necromancer, or to be routed -ourselves?” - -“Of course; we came here to enjoy ourselves and have some fun,” chimed in -Stephen. - -“Yes, but you might behave yourselves,” the Sage growled. “Now, where was -I? Oh, pshaw! it’s all a muddle! Only two or three more lines, and it -would have been finished. Well,” brightening up, “perhaps the charm isn’t -spoilt; and, Steve, hand me your bow and arrows.” - -The boy still felt aggrieved, and he now fired furiously towards the sky. - -The arrow rushed into the air, and came down a moment later, striking the -water fairly. - -The archer’s face beamed with smiles; he spoke. “Boys, that is as it -should be; and when we get warmed up in this game, it will be sport.” - -“It will certainly be _warm work_ if we dig down six feet in this dirt,” -Will growled. - -The boys changed their positions before George shot the next arrow, and, -as luck would have it, Will took his stand near a horrible, miry hole -which had been scooped out by the river in a great overflow that very -spring. He threw his paddles down carelessly, and fixed his eyes on the -experimentalist. - -That worthy now fitted another arrow to the bowstring, and after taking -deliberate aim at a star overhead, he gravely “fired.” - -Every head was bent to observe the arrow’s flight, and each one was -prepared to spring aside if it should come down too close to him. Each -one except Bob Herriman. He, poor wretch, had placed himself in so -cramped a position that he could not see it fly. - -Having made this clear to the reader, surely he will guess what happened. - -The arrow descended fairly in the evergreen, struck a branch, glanced, -and Mr. Bob received a stinging blow on the back of the head. He -wriggled and nearly fell out of the tree. His mouth flew open, and a -half-suppressed ejaculation escaped him. - -The arrow then struck the ground in such a manner that it ran along it, -and finally ceased its wanderings within a few feet of George. - -“How strangely everything is fulfilled!” he said, with evident -satisfaction. - -The boys grinned--even Marmaduke was amused at the Sage’s behaviour. - -“I believe that tree is inhabited,” Stephen remarked. “I’m sure there was -a great rumpus in it when the arrow’ struck it, and I thought I heard a -groan.” - -“Go to grass, Stunner!” said Charles. “You don’t know a groan from a -wasp’s nest.” - -“I guess you’re about right, Charley;” Will added. “I guess George’s -arrow smashed an ancient and worn out bird’s nest.” - -Let it be understood that none of these boys were aware of Bob Herriman’s -presence. They accompanied the Sage only to see to what extremes he would -go, and to while away the time. But probably they had hopes that some -unforeseen incident would happen to cause merriment. - -Again George fired deliberately into the air, and again the arrow was -narrowly watched. This time it came down so perilously near Stephen’s dog -that Stephen was grievously offended. - -But as this was the last arrow to be shot upward, and as all wished the -proceedings to be continued, he was soon pacified. - -George looked complacently at the arrow, and at last seemed ready to make -use of the paddles and spade. With some pompousness he traced a circle -round his arrow, and looked so important that the boys could hardly -suppress their laughter. But it seemed to them, boys though they were, -that practical George was out of his sphere. - -“Now, William,” he said, “bring me those paddles of yours.” - -Will smiled to hear himself addressed by his full name, and turned to -pick them up. - -Steve, still thinking about his dog’s narrow escape from injury, snarled: -“Don’t _William_ him, or he’ll make you _wilt_.” - -“Stop!” the Sage shouted to Will, even as Steve spoke. “I forgot. It is -necessary that an arrow should yet be shot.” - -“As your grammar would say,” supplemented wicked Stephen. - -The Sage took no notice of these jeering words, but continued: “Yes, I -must shoot an arrow through the very middle of the evergreen.” - -Bob Herriman, who could hear every word, now had reason to be alarmed. Up -to this time he had looked on calmly, intending to keep still till the -boys should be very much engrossed, and then terrify them all in some -mysterious way--how, he had not yet determined. Now, however, he lost -sight of everything except his own safety, and not stopping to collect -himself, he gave vent to the most ear-piercing, heart-appalling howl, -shriek, and roar, combined in one, that the boys had ever heard. - -Boys, imagine a deep-chested lad of sixteen mechanically drawing in a -full breath, and then suffering it to escape in one long cry of mortal -terror. - - - - -_Chapter XXIV._ - -THE SAGE UNEARTHS A TREASURE. - - -The effect on the boys was startling. - -In the confusion of the moment, George probably took it for one of his -“sprites;” and he dropped Steve’s bow, stepped on it, and broke it. - -Marmaduke felt that there must be something ghostly and necromantic in -such a cry, coming, in the hush of evening, from a shapely evergreen that -rose beside a rolling, moonlit river. - -Jim was seized with a painful attack of his chills, and ran bellowing -homewards. - -Stephen, impetuous and heedless as ever, picked up a stone and threw it -furiously into the tree. - -The reader of fiction does not need to be told that “all this happened in -an instant.” - -Where the stone struck Mr. Herriman is not known; but with a crash he -fell headlong to the ground, rolled over twice,--roaring, meantime, with -rage, pain, and terror,--and before the thunderstruck boys could recover -from their stupefaction, he had disappeared in the water. - -Then Stephen, with great presence of mind, exclaimed: “Boys, I told you -that tree was inhabited!” - -“Save him! Save him! Whoever he is, save him!” Charles cried. “Get -George’s rope, and throw it out to him!” - -He and Stephen made a rush for it, and stumbled over each other, but -finally managed to get all but a few inches of it into the water. There -their rescuing ceased. - -Mr. Herriman, whose feet touched bottom, floundered and sputtered about -in the water like a madman. He could easily have made his way to the -shore, but apparently he had lost his wits. Every other second he gave -utterance to some pithy interjection. Doubtless he would have yelled -continually; but every time he opened his mouth a small cupful of water -and animalcules poured down his throat, and well-nigh choked him. - -A panic seized upon the boys, and although chattering and gesticulating -like monkeys, they were powerless to help him. And so Bob struggled in -the river, in some danger of being drowned. - -But a deliverer was at hand. Carlo awoke to what was going on, and, more -sensible than the boys, plunged into the river, and an instant later was -beside demoralized Bob. He caught first his coat, then his pants, then -his coat again, Bob insanely striking him off each time. - -The truth is, it galled the boy to be rescued by Tip’s successor. - -The noble dog persevered in his efforts, however, and Bob, eventually -seeing the folly of resisting, suffered himself to be towed to the bank. - -Then the brave boys exerted themselves, and succeeded in hauling -bewildered Robert Herriman on shore. - -His first act betrayed his cowardly nature. - -“Get out, you brute!” he said, and struck the gallant dog which had just -saved him, and which stood by, wagging his tail to express his delight. - -Then, with a jeering laugh at the dog’s low growl, he darted away from -the now enraged boys. - -He ran a few’ steps, then halting, he picked up a stone, and heaved it -among the experimentalists. - -“Take _that_ for throwing stones at me!” he said derisively, as he took -to his heels again. “Look out for your dog, Stepping Hen, and good-bye -till I see you again,” he shouted as he ran. - -This was more than human nature could bear. With fury in their eyes, and -uttering a warwhoop that electrified the flying wretch, they all broke -into a run and gave chase, determined to wreak dire vengeance on him. - -Bob yelled fearfully,--well he might,--and redoubled his speed. - -The pursuers were gaining on him, when a wild cry, a beseeching, almost -despairing, appeal for help, reached their ears. - -They stopped and stared vacantly at each other. The look each one put on -seemed plainly to inquire, “What next?” - -“It’s Will,” Charles said. “Where on earth is he?” - -“Follow the sound,” the Sage said, philosophical as ever. - -The pursuit was instantly given over, for all the boys bore Will too much -love to neglect him. One and all, the four ran back to the scene of their -late exploits, and Herriman escaped. - -“Who saw Will last?” George asked anxiously. - -“The last I saw of him,” said Steve, “was when you told him to bring the -paddles.” - -In fact, poor Will was so startled at Bob’s appalling cry that he had -tumbled backwards into the pit. He and his paddles. In the confusion that -ensued he was not missed, but was left to his own resources while the -others were engaged in “rescuing” and dealing with Rob. - -Unhappy boy, he found himself in narrow quarters. The hole was large at -the top, but small at the bottom, and he was unable to climb out of it. -Soon he found himself sinking into the horrible, sickening mire, which -gave way beneath him. - -He heard the shouts of his companions, and struggled manfully to save -himself--and his paddles. - -Why didn’t he cry out for help immediately? That is very easily explained. - -Will got into trouble so often and made so many egregious blunders--which -invariably provoked the laughter of others--that he had fallen into -the habit of keeping as many of them secret as possible. He had a -preternatural horror of being made a laughing-stock, and consequently, -when he found himself out of sight in a pit, he was desirous to work his -way out of it before he should be missed. - -Besides, after his exploits in the cave, this experiment of the Sages -was but ignoble pastime, and it would ill become him, the hero who had -delivered and cured his insane uncle, to come to grief in this slimy hole. - -He struggled heroically to gain dry land, but the more he struggled the -deeper he sank in the mire. At last, hearing his comrades chasing some -one, he concluded that he should have to cry out for help, or else be -left to a horrible fate. - -But it grieved him to think that he was not missed and searched for. - -“Whatever is the matter, among so many there might be _one_ to think of -me,” he muttered, sadly. “Don’t I amount to a button, that they don’t -miss me? Or is something awful going on?” - -Then, with great reluctance, he shouted for help. - -When the four gathered round the hole, they beheld its tenant with wonder. - -“How in this world did you get down there?” Steve asked. - -“Fell down,” Will said, laconically. “I knew there was a hole in these -regions, and, botheration! I found it, and tumbled overboard into it! But -say, what was all that row about?” - -“So you’ve missed all the fun!” Charles said, pityingly. - -Then the boys told him all that had happened. - -“But why didn’t you yell for us to help you at first?” Steve asked. - -“Why didn’t you miss me?” Will retorted, sourly. - -The boys could not be blamed for this. Probably not more than ten minutes -had elapsed from Bob’s first cry of terror till Will’s cry for help; and -they had been very much excited and distressed all that time. - -“This is no way to get Will out!” Charles said, angrily. “Stop talking, -Steve, and bring George’s rope here.” - -“George’s rope!” said Will. “That will be the very thing! Get it, Steve; -you’re used to hauling donkeys out of pits, you know, so show us your -skill.” - -The boys laughed for a full minute, and Steve said, as he darted away for -the rope, “Will, that’s blunder number ten thousand seven hundred and one -for you.” - -The rope was found, but it was wet from end to end. However, it proved -more useful than when the boys attempted to rescue Herriman with it, and -Will, with considerable detriment to his clothes, was pulled out of the -hole--his paddles, too. - -Although coated with disagreeable slime up to his watch pocket--which, by -the way, contained fish-hooks instead of a watch--he took it coolly, as -became a redoubtable hero. - -In order to turn the conversation from himself, he said, hurriedly, “Now, -go into details about Herriman, and then I must pack off home.” - -Foolish boy, he need not have been alarmed; he was an object of pity -rather than of laughter. - -“We told you about Herriman,” growled Steve. “I wish I could have got -my claw’s on that boy; I would have made him strain his voice and his -muscles!” - -“You had better go home this minute, Will,” Charles said, kindly. “As -for Herriman, Steve, I guess he has strained his voice and his muscles -and his joints enough already. Well, Will, I’ll go home with you, and -tell all about Herriman as we journey along. Stephen, I suppose you will -stay here to go on with the necromancy business, which was so meanly -interrupted. Be sure to bring home Will’s paddles and everything else.” - -“Yes, the necromancer must be routed,” Steve replied. “I’ll see to -everything; good-bye.” - -“Good-bye,” said Charles and Will, as they plodded off. - -“I say, Will,” Charles said, with a grin, as soon as they were out of -hearing, “I say, Will, by to-morrow I guess I’ll be the only one to see -any fun in this business; for Jim ran howling away, Bob got the worst of -it, you robbed the hole of much mud, Steve’s dog was insulted several -times, and before Steve gets through with the Sage and Marmaduke, all -three will be sick of it.” - -Thus let them go. - -The sport seemed to have lost much of its zest after all these -interruptions and departures; but George and Stephen mended the bow as -well as they could, and then the former, with due solemnity, shot an -arrow through the tree lately occupied by Herriman. - -If the complicated plot of this and the preceding chapter has not proved -too great a strain on the reader’s memory, he will probably remember that -the next thing to be done was to dig. - -Marmaduke came up with the paddles, and tried to make a spade of one of -them; but it rebounded and jarred his hand till it ached. - -“Stop!” screamed the Sage. “You’ll spoil the charm! The sods must be -raised with something sharp, of course. _Boys_,” solemnly, “_they must be -raised with a knife that has slain something!_” - -“Slain!” Marmaduke repeated, aghast. - -“Yes; and I’ve brought along a knife that once killed a deer and a lion.” - -“George, this is going a little too far; what business have you to tote -around a hunter’s weapon?” Stephen inquired. “Why, if _you_ had fallen -into the river with that horrible knife hitched fast to you, you would -have been ruined.” - -“Don’t be jealous, Steve,” George said, sarcastically. “You know there -isn’t a boy in the State that owns such a knife as this; you know it has -a romantic history; you know my grandfather willed it to _me_; you know -it once saved Seth Warner’s life; you know an old Turk once----” - -“Yes,” interrupted Steve, “I know; I’ve heard you talk about that knife -ever since I first knew you. But if you don’t look out, it will come to -grief like all your other wonderful knives--you’ll lose it.--Well, never -mind, George; I was only surprised to think you could bring along that -keepsake--no, relic--to dig up sods! So,” mildly, “go on, George.” - -George “went on,” and soon the sods were raised, and a circle of earth -exposed. Then the paddles were used very laboriously, first by one and -then by another. It was hard work, but at last a hole was scooped out, -and Steve, in despair, took up the spade and dug with ease. - -“How do you suppose Herriman came to be in that tree?” George asked. - -“That’s a mystery,” Steve replied. “Likely he was prowling around, and -saw us coming, and scrambled into the tree to hide himself. Well, I never -hankered to make a squirrel of myself in an evergreen.” - -“Let me dig,” George now said. - -Stephen handed over the spade to him, and after a vigorous attack with -it, with a thud that startled the three, he struck something very hard. - -Visions of gold and precious stones flashed through their mind; George -trembled with excitement; Marmaduke was in ecstacy; Steve was bewildered. - -George stopped for a moment, panting and eager; then he turned to digging -again--so furiously that the sweat streamed from every part of his body. - -Not a word was spoken. - -Dirt enough was soon removed to discover--what? - -An iron-bound box! - -Again the Sage paused. Although Steve was as much excited as the others, -he thought this a fitting time to observe: “Well, George, we have exposed -the necromancer’s fable, and it is getting late; so let us pack up and go -home.” - -“Go home?” echoed George. “Go home--without seeing what we have found?” - -“Certainly. It can’t be a treasure, you know; _because it isn’t six feet -down in the ground_!” - -George was thunder-struck. But he soon rallied, and made answer: “Well, -so many queer things have happened, perhaps the spirits got demoralized, -and raised the box.” - -“No they didn’t,” Steve retorted; “spirits never get demoralized. And -besides, I’m ashamed of you, George, for staying here any longer. You -know you don’t believe a single word of it,” with cutting irony. “So, let -us do what the copy-book tells us, and make the most of time while we are -young. Let us hurry home.” - -Whilst this talk was going on, Marmaduke--much to the secret satisfaction -of both boys--was busy, trying, by using the spade and paddles as levers, -to get the iron-bound box out of the hole. Not finding it so heavy as he -expected, he succeeded without much effort. - -Now that it was out of the ground, George, Stephen, and Marmaduke, -pounced on it, pried off the lid, and found--what? - -A heap of mouldy old boots, a cracked cow-bell, a worn-out vest, several -broken articles, a few door-knobs, a defaced copy of the Constitution, -rusty nails, the works of a clock, the rudder of a toy ship, a heavy -flat-iron, the head of a medieval image, rubbish, all sorts of things. - -Steve, foolish boy, laughed till he was obliged to sit down. As for the -other two, they were, to use a polite expression, “deeply chagrined.” - -As soon as Steve recovered himself he said, “This is some of Crazy Tom’s -work! Of course you two have heard of him; he used to live in these -parts, and spent all his time gathering up all kinds of trash, and the -boys say he buried it sometimes. Now I know that story is true. Oh! what -a treasure we have found! Our fortune is made!” - -George and Marmaduke were familiar with the legends respecting Crazy Tom, -and they were mute. - -“Oh dear,” groaned Steve, “we must get this box back into the hole, and -shovel in the dirt, before we can go home.” - -This proves that there was something good in Stephen, after all. A great -many boys would have gone away, leaving everything in confusion. - -“There might be something valuable in it,” Marmaduke suggested. - -“Yes, of course,” Steve replied. “But I don’t know who’d want to rummage -among all these disgusting old things.” - -George and Marmaduke thought of the bones in the woods, and with one -breath, both said, “No!” - -“To be sure,” Steve continued, peering into the box, “if we could find -some fellow that hadn’t any respect for himself, we might hire him to -handle its contents, and separate the good from the bad. Now, I’ve a good -mind to take out this----Roanwer!” - -“What’s the matter?” - -“Matter!” roared Steve, starting back. “My gracious! That box is -inhabited with some awful looking grubs!” - -Without further parley the lid was laid on, the box shoved into the hole, -and the dirt shoveled in. - -“Steve,” said George suddenly, “I believe you knew about this. Why were -you all at once so eager to go, and why did you pick out this tree, and -guess the box was Crazy Tom’s so quick?” - -“Now, George, don’t be foolish. I came for the fun of it, that’s all. -Now, didn’t you shoot all the arrows, and didn’t I do all I could to help -you? Didn’t I work hard digging? Why did I know about where Crazy Tom -buried his treasures? Why, George, are you losing your wits? Come, now, -be sensible; and think it’s a great joke.” - -George looked full in Stephen’s honest face, relented, and said -desperately, “Well, I suppose it is very funny; but I’ve made an awful -fool of myself.” - -Everything except the big rope was taken home. It was enough for the Sage -to carry it when in excellent spirits, unruffled temper, and fired with -“enthusiasm.” Now, his spirits were broken,--for the time only,--his -temper was soured, he himself was sore and weary, and the rope was -“forgotten.” - -The three wended their way homeward in a different frame of mind. Steve -was so light of heart that he chuckled to himself and his dog, and -swung his arms furiously. Marmaduke was uneasy about his lessons for -the next day; George was glum and miserable, full of bitterness against -necromancers, sprites, and Crazy Toms. - -“I’ll never meddle with nonsense again,” he muttered, as he jogged on. -“And as for Captain Kidd----” - -From that day, he had another name--the Necromancer. It was not much -used, however. - - - - -_Chapter XXV._ - -THE BITTEN BOY TAKES REVENGE. - - -After that, George renounced all literature that treated of the magical -arts, but his reading was as varied and extensive as ever. He carefully -avoided the subject of necromancy, but when his companions referred to -it, he put up with their jokes and cruel remarks about “iron-bound” -“treasure-chests” with the calm indifference of a true philosopher. - -Charles was mistaken in saying that he would be the only one to see any -amusement in the affair after it was all over, for Stephen never tired of -calling up George’s look of misery when the box was opened. - -“Oh, if you and Will had only waited!” he often sighed to Charles. - -Stephen almost forgot the insults heaped on himself and his dog during -the earlier part of the evening, and as Bob Herriman prudently kept out -of his sight for a few days, he almost forgave that wretch his wickedness. - -One day he asked George if he might see the book of necromancy. - -At first the Sage was inclined to be vexed at such a question; but -finally, pointing upwards, he said, with a peculiar smile: “Well, Steve, -I guess the _smoke_ of it is up there. And now, don’t say any more about -it, please.” - -“George, that night we passed through an _experience_ instead of an -_experiment_;” Stephen replied solemnly, looking wondrous wise. “I -promise not to bother you about it any more.” - -Stephen kept his word religiously. - -As for Will, strangely enough he took no cold, but was minus one suit of -clothes. - -Bob Herriman kept out of the boys sight for a few days. He had several -very good reasons for doing so. In the first place, he was sore and stiff -from many bruises; secondly, his cowardly nature dreaded meeting with the -boys for whom he had lain in ambush, and whom he had exasperated beyond -endurance; and thirdly, he wished to avoid Steve’s dog, which he now -feared. - -On account of this, the boy kept quiet near home, although his parents -probably thought him at school. In these “holidays” he worked out a plan -for revenge. - -Revenge for what? - -The only answer that can be given is that the boy was so vindictive in -his nature that he wished to do the boys and the dog some injury--simply -because he had fallen out of the evergreen; been humiliated, stunned, and -hurt; had an unpleasant struggle in the water; and generally “got the -worst of it,” as Charley put it. - -At last he hit on a plan that pleased him greatly. - -Suppose that, in order to lend variety, animation, and dignity to these -pages, we forbear giving the details of his plot, and keep the reader in -a state of mild suspense and wonder? Such a course would smooth our task, -and not seriously disturb the readers peace of mind. - -Although a raft has not been referred to specially as one of the -attractions of the river, yet, for all that, an ill-made and -disproportioned, but substantial and floatable one was moored a mile -above the falls. Many hours had been spent by the boys in building and -repairing this raft, and many times they had sailed proudly up and down -the river on it. It was a source of great amusement to them all. - -Some ten days after the adventure last narrated, Bob Herriman built a -little “house,” which, seen from one end looked like a hen-coop, from the -other like a dog kennel, while a stupid person behind might take it for a -clumsy woodbox, another equally stupid person in front might take it for -a modern home-made bee-hive. One end was three feet wide, the other three -feet six inches. By laying a brick underneath it, its roof was level, -with the spirit-level. By placing it on a perfectly smooth floor, without -the brick underneath it, it rocked gently--just sufficiently, in fact, to -lull a person to sleep. Briefly, Robert was not intended for a carpenter, -and this “house”--which was almost worth its weight in nails--to be still -further disproportioned, was much wider than it was long. Its width has -already been given; its length was two feet and two, three, four and five -inches. Its height was in exact proportion to its width and length. The -door of a disused cupboard was brought into use, and once more did duty -as a door. - -Boys, exercise your ingenuity, and draw a correct picture of that -“house.” It may help you to understand Bob’s plot. - -Into this building its architect put several things which he thought -would be needed to carry out his schemes successfully. - -Every Saturday afternoon Stephen and his dog went swimming in the river. -The other boys generally, but not always, swam with him. This was -well-known to Herriman, and he took his measures accordingly. - -The next Saturday Bob set out immediately after dinner, getting a boon -companion of his to take his contrivance in a light waggon to the falls. -This boy, whose thoughts never soared above the driving of his nag, asked -no questions, and scarcely noticed the “house” or its contents. At the -falls Bob set it down carefully, and then the two went their several -ways--the youth with the waggon turning back and going to market, the -plotter getting his building laboriously up the hill by the falls. The -few people near stared at him in wonder, but said nothing. - -When this wicked boy got his contrivance a few rods above the falls he -stopped, took out of it and stowed away upon his person whatever water -might damage, and then took an enormously long and very strong cord, -which had hitherto been inside, and tied one end fast to a staple in what -was supposed to be the roof of the “house.” - -Having done this, he shoved the unwieldy thing into the river, and eyed -it wistfully. - -“No, it isn’t coming to pieces,” he exclaimed, joyfully, as he saw that -his work bore the strain of floating in the water. - -Then he grasped the rope--which will be described presently--and towed -his invention--it _was_ an invention--rapidly up the river. - -Arrived at the raft, he fastened this thing (we don’t know what else to -call it) firmly on it. Then was shown the beauty and usefulness of the -staple spoken of. Bob ran a strong cord through it and through some of -the many staples and rings which were planted in the raft. - -You perceive, gentle reader, that this boy was much better at scheming -than at building. - -Then he loosened the rope from the--let us call it _cage_--from the cage, -and tied it fast to a ring in one end of the raft. This rope, or cord, -was new and strong, and was actually one thousand feet in length! Bob -did not believe in doing things by halves--but he had another object in -view when he procured the long rope. Excepting a few yards at the end -made fast to the raft, it was as yet coiled up neatly. About the middle a -heavy iron ring, or sinker, was attached. - -Bob arranged everything to his satisfaction, and had just set the raft -afloat and made it stationery with an anchor, in the form of a sharp -stick, when he espied Stephen and Carlo coming for their customary bath. -He himself was screened by friendly shrubs and trees, but Stephen was in -plain sight. - -All that he had to do was to remain quiet and keep the raft to its -anchor, and Stephen, he felt assured, would not see him. - -In this belief the crafty plotter was right. Stephen hurriedly undressed -a few rods below him, and plunged headlong into the river, Carlo beside -him. Carlo, however, seemed uneasy, as though he suspected the presence -of an enemy. - -Bob examined the raft to see that it was securely anchored, and then -stepped lightly ashore, an old muzzle and some pieces of rope in his -hands. Unobserved, he stole along behind the shrubs, trees, and ridges, -till he gained a hollow which completely hid him from Stephen, and then -he stopped. Probably no boy in the neighborhood knew the lay of the land -better than Mr. Bob. - -Suddenly, he uttered a cry like a squirrel’s, which produced the effect -he thought it would. - -Both Stephen and his dog, not far away, heard it. Steve immediately -stopped swimming, and said, “Sic it, Carlo! Sic it! Fetch him out!” - -Bob chuckled, again uttered the cry, and was rewarded by hearing Carlo -flying towards him. “Now, to keep out of the dog’s sight till he gets -into this hollow,” he muttered, suiting the action to the word. “If Steve -should come, too,”--and he grew pale at the thought,--“I’ll get the worst -of it! But Steve won’t come.” - -In this conclusion Bob was quite right; for Stephen preferred a good -bath to a doubtful chase after a squirrel. Besides, he could not hunt -the squirrel without dressing himself; and before that could be done, -Carlo would probably have caught it, or else have given up the pursuit. -Therefore, Stephen wisely determined to enjoy his bath, and let his dog -hunt alone. - -Crafty Bob had considered all these points, and felt quite easy in his -ambush. He was wise in his day and generation. - -“Sic it!” Stephen cried again; and Carlo, with his nose bent to the -ground, ran hither and thither, trying to get scent of the “squirrel.” - -Bob gave another encouraging squeak, and the dog plunged through the -shrubbery into the hollow. - -He feared the dog, and knew the risks he was running; but revenge spurred -him on, and he remained collected and resolute, while Carlo, quite -surprised, was taken at a disadvantage. - -They grapple with each other, almost human dog and almost brutal boy, -have a severe struggle, and fight desperately; but in the end, Bob slips -his muzzle over Carlo’s nose, fastens it, and then binds his feet with -the cords and straps. - -Bob is master of the situation. - -Swiftly he dragged the helpless animal by the way he had come, till he -arrived at the raft. It was the work of but a minute to haul it on board, -tear up the “anchor,” and shove off. When fairly afloat, the door of the -cage was opened, and Carlo ignominiously thrust in. - -Thus the reader perceives that this mysterious cage was to do duty as a -prison. Had not its manufacturer been perusing some of the “literature” -of the present day when he contrived his plot? Only, he varied the -stereotyped form by abducting an heroic dog instead of an heroic fool. - -Stephen gave up his whole attention to the delightful and thoroughly -boyish pastime of swimming. In all probability he thought no more of his -dog, believing him to be in full pursuit of the “squirrel.” But Bob had -no sooner got under way than Stephen spied him. - -Contrary to all the laws which regulate the actions of the heroes of -romance, he engaged in conversation with the depraved youth. A hero in -a book would have looked the other way in dignified silence when such a -wretch came in sight, but not so Steve. - -“Hollo!” he called out. “Why, Bob, I haven’t seen you since the night you -yelled so bravely, and fell overboard into this very river. Have you got -the plasters off your bruises yet? You ought to be as tender as pounded -beef-steak after all your tumbles that night. - -“But I say,” in a quarrelsome tone, “what are you doing with our raft? -That raft isn’t common property; it belongs to us.” - -“Who is ‘us’?” asked Bob, mockingly. - -Now that he was on the raft, all his impudence returned. He knew that he -could work his way into deep water before Stephen could reach him; for, -unlike most rafts built by boys, this one was managed with ease, and -propelled with something like swiftness. - -“Who is ‘us’?” Steve echoed in amazement. “You know well enough that -that raft belongs to us four--Will, and me, and Charley, and George, and -Marmaduke, and myself--” - -Bob could not deny the justness of Steve’s claim on the raft, so he -waived the question, and cut him short, saying derisively, “Steve, I -reckon you’d better stop, if you can’t count straighter’n that.” - -“Well, you have no right to use it,” Steve replied. “What are you doing -here anyway? Are you spying on me again?” - -“Where is your dog? I thought he always followed you,” Bob observed, -oaring briskly away. - -“Carlo? So he does. He went after a squirrel a minute ago. ’Pon my word,” -as if the thought had just struck him, “it’s very strange that I don’t -hear him bark! Now, what’s the matter! Carlo, Carlo, Carlo, Carlo.” - -Bob had now floated the raft down stream into deep water, and with a -burst of idiotic laughter, he swung it half-way around. Up to this time, -that side of the cage which looked like a dog-kennel had been toward -Stephen; but the side which looked like a hen-coop was now, in turn, -presented to him. - -The raft had drifted down so far that it was nearly opposite to Stephen; -and now, for the first time, he beheld his beloved dog, bound and -helpless, in the clutches of an enemy. - -An agonized cry of astonishment and horror broke from his lips. - -Bob’s revenge had begun, and like all approved villains, he was destined -to have a short, but brilliant, career. - -“Why don’t you swim out and save your dog, Stepping Hen?” he asked -mockingly, well knowing that he could soon out-strip an ordinary swimmer. - -“Oh, just wait till I catch you, you abominable sneak!” yelled Steve. -“I ought to have taught you a lesson before! Oh dear! O-o-h! Carlo! -C-a-r-l-o!” - -But Carlo could only whine piteously. - -“Stay where you are,” Bob yelled back, “and when I get across the river -you’ll ‘see sport,’ as you said on the island, at the picnic.” - -Lustily and swiftly this thirster for revenge worked his way across -the stream, jeering at poor Stephen’s threats and entreaties. The raft -grounded near the bank, and, the coil of rope in his hand, he jumped -ashore, and shoved it off. Then, oh most humane action! he jumped on -the raft again, opened the door of the cage, and cast off the cords and -straps that bound Carlo’s feet, thus leaving the poor beast at liberty to -struggle feebly in his narrow prison. Having made the door of the cage -fast, he landed once more, this time, however, getting his feet very wet. - -To set the dog free was evidently an after thought, or he would have -done so before, and so have saved himself time, trouble and a wetting. - -Meanwhile, poor Stephen danced excitedly about in the water, shouting -and gesticulating wildly. In fact, the poor boy was at his wits’ end. He -made several desperate efforts to swim after the “jolly young waterman,” -but failed in each effort. He lacked George’s great self-possession, and -allowed his anger to get the better of his judgment. Thus he acted, and -there he remained, until his teeth chattered and his limbs turned into -what is known familiarly to the boys as “goose-flesh.” Then he rushed out -of the water, and pulled on his clothes promiscuously. - -To the frantic boy’s horror, he next saw Bob running _up_ the stream, -along the bank whilst the raft, with the dog still on it, was drifting -_down_ the stream. - -“The scoundrel!” Steve gasped. “Is he going to run away, and let my dog -drift over the falls?” - -Such was not the case. Bob’s _left_ hand was toward Stephen, while in his -_right_ hand he carried and unwound as he ran, the coil of rope. No; Bob -was only “paying out the cable.” But Stephen was too far off to see this. - -This one thousand feet of cord, however, did not work so harmoniously as -Bob had imagined it would; it became most mysteriously and provokingly -entangled at every step. The sinker on the cord kept the greater part of -it under water; and when Bob at last reached the end of it, and turned, -he changed it from his right hand to his left hand, so that it was still -out of Stephen’s sight. - -Bob stood still a moment, puffing and perspiring, and the raft stopped -drifting and pulled gently, very gently on the cord. Then he moved on -slowly, and to Stephen on the opposite bank, there seemed to be no -connection between him and the raft. - -If Steve had looked narrowly, however, he would certainly have seen the -cord coming out of the water in front of Bob; for, if a boy can see the -string leading to his new kite when his mischievous brother is flying it -nearly a quarter of a mile away,--mark this, we do not say that any one -else could see it,--then surely, in spite of the distance between him and -Bob, he could have seen what little of the cord there was in sight. - -But Steve’s attention was centred upon the raft, where his dog was. - -Let not the peruser of this work of fiction suppose that the raft was -really one thousand feet below Bob. By no means; sundry loose knots, -kinks, or snarls, shortened the distance greatly. - -But it was undoubtedly a long way below him. - -“Hollo, Stepping Hen!” Bob yelled. “Don’t you see that _your_ raft and -the dog are sailing towards the falls? Why don’t you stir around and save -’em?” - -Stephen heard him distinctly, and it seemed to him that Carlo’s doom was -sealed. He was now running madly up and down the margin of the river, in -the vain hope of finding some craft on which he might set out in pursuit. -But he could find nothing that would serve his turn. - -Bob saw the boy’s dilemma, and like all orthodox villains, when -successful in their wickedness, he could not conceal his delight. His -powerful imagination saw a log in each broken twig, a huge boulder in -each little stone, a frightful chasm in each slight depression in the -ground; and he passed along by leaps that bore considerable resemblance -to those of an Alpine hunter. He writhed his whole body, distorted his -features, rolled his intensely blue eyes, hallooed, sang and uttered -original and untranslatable interjections, expressive of triumph. - -Such actions could not but be injurious to his system; but--fortunately -for himself and the rest of the world,--as Bob afterwards invented and -patented an ingenious saw-horse--they were to be of short continuance. - - - - -_Chapter XXVI._ - -BOB’S DOWNFALL. - - -To Stephen’s intense relief, he now saw Charley and George coming towards -him from the village. He welcomed them with feverish delight. - -“Hollo, Steve!” Charlie shouted. “What performance is that on the other -side of the river? Who has set our raft afloat, and what is that thing on -it?” - -A hoot of defiance came booming across the river from Bob. He still felt -himself secure; and instead of one witness of his triumph, there would -now be three. - -Stephen ran to meet the new-comers, and told them all that he knew about -the matter, not sparing the arch-villain. - -Their expressions of hopelessness and anger exceeded even Stephen’s. - -“Isn’t there anything we can float over on?” Charles asked. - -“Not a thing. Do you suppose I’d be here if I could cross?” Steve -retorted, angrily. - -“Take it coolly, boys,” the Sage advised. “We are not going to let that -Herriman have it all his own way; surely we can work some plan to outwit -him.” - -Bob looked on in ecstasy, and hallooed as barbarously as a wild Indian on -the war-trail. His plans had succeeded in every particular--almost beyond -his expectations. Why should he not rejoice and be merry? - -This shifting of the scene from one bank of the river to the other is not -conducive to the reader’s happiness or the writer’s reputation. It would -be better to single out one party and let the other go. - -After a critical examination of how matters stood, the Sage said -abruptly, “Look here, boys; there is room for hope. In the first place, -Bob and the raft are moving at the same rate; second place, he has a -cord fastened to the raft, with the other end in his left hand--but it’s -an enormously long cord; third place, Will crossed the river in the -village, and he will soon be coming up on the other side. Now, look at -Bob and the raft, and see for yourselves.” - -But before he had finished speaking, Steve and Charley had descried the -rope in Bob’s hand. - -“Oh, George!” cried Stephen, “you _are_ a philosopher!” - -George was right about Will. A few minutes later, he was seen coming up -on the other side of the river, and accompanied by Marmaduke and Jim. - -Thus the whole band of heroes was assembling! Gentle reader, when that -event takes place, you know that the villain’s downfall is at hand. - -Stephen and Charles, beside themselves with delight, screamed to the -three heroes to pounce on Bob and save Carlo. - -The Sage--puffed up with pride at hearing himself called a philosopher -by Stephen, who never flattered anybody--took another survey of affairs, -and remarked: “Look here Steve, that raft is only drifting slowly, and by -swimming out I could easily reach it, and then let Carlo free. The only -objection to this plan is, that I should have to stay on the raft without -my clothes on until I could get to them again. But there is no one to -see me, and I don’t mind when Carlo’s fate hangs by a--a--tow-line. And -by doing so, Will and the rest can chase Bob; for Bob will move nimbly -somewhere in a minute or two.” - -This striking idea took well with Charles and Stephen. - -“Oh,” groaned the latter, “why didn’t I think of doing that before you -came up!” - -Will, Marmaduke, and Jim, hastened on, taking in the whole plot at a -glance. - -“Look out for Bob!” they heard from the three on the opposite bank. “See -to Bob; we’ll take care of Carlo.” - -Bob, however, had awakened to a sense of his danger. He saw Will, -Marmaduke, and Jim, approaching; but not so soon as the boys across the -river, as the intervening shrubs and inequalities in the ground obscured -his view. - -In all his nice little calculations he had not thought of, nor provided -for, such a casualty as this. In the midst of his triumph why should -three boys all at once come upon him? Why should they be coming up on his -side of the river, when he had never known them to do so before? - -But there was no time to be lost in idle speculation. - -Should he fly? Then in which direction? To fly towards home seemed -madness, for the three would have to be passed, and he knew well that at -least one, Will, could outrun him. Or he might go _up_ the river, as he -would have a start in his favor. But he was already a long way from the -village and his home; of course he would be pursued; and where would the -pursuit end? - -His wild behaviour now gave place to gravity, and his last exultant shout -died away on his lips. - -He considered a moment, and then rejected both these possible means of -escape, and determined to take what seemed the only course left open to -him. The raft was under his control--he would haul it up and sail away on -it! - -If Bob had been a boy of George’s sententious terseness, he would have -said, “I can defy my enemies when I am on the raft.” If he had been a -hero of romance: “So shall I balk my persecutors, and frustrate their -evil designs.” But being neither, he simply said to himself, “I’ll mount -the raft; and then let ’em sing and holler as much as they want to! And -the dog will be under my thumb, too!” - -If Bob had reflected a little longer, perhaps he would not have resorted -to this extreme measure; for, although he would be at liberty to float -whither he pleased, in reality he would be as much a prisoner as the dog. -Five resolute boys and one willing-hearted candle-holder, Jim, would -sooner or later contrive some plan to entrap him. - -Not a little to the boys’ astonishment, he now began to draw the raft -hastily towards him. He worked as though his life depended on his -agility; and as the rope came in hand over hand, it fell in a loose coil -at his feet. If the raft had caught on a snag or run into the bank, he -would have been left in a sad predicament; for the faster he drew in the -rope, the faster Will bounded towards him. It was a strange, exciting -race--not a race for life, but a race between meanness and its inevitable -punishment. - -The three on the opposite bank could not at first guess Bob’s intention. -George was undressing himself preparatory to swimming out to the raft; -but this manœuvre caused him to desist, and with the other two he stood -stupidly gazing at the plotter, eagerly awaiting further developments. - -But when the truth dawned upon him, he cheered Will so heartily that all -the boys, together with the squirrels and birds, took up the cry, and -made the place ring again. In fact, there was danger that all this hubbub -might draw on them the wrath of some peace-loving paterfamilias. - -Bob had reason to fear that the boys would take dire vengeance if they -should overhaul him, and he toiled worthy of a better cause. Yard after -yard of the rope passed through his hands, but notwithstanding all his -efforts, he saw that Will was gaining on him. Although at his wit send, -he yet had the sagacity to pull steadily and not too fast--that might -break the rope. - -At last the raft was alongside; and having gathered up the folds of the -rope,--which he durst not leave behind, because that would put it in the -power of Will easily to secure boy, dog, and raft,--he made a desperate -and final effort, and sprang almost at random. - -At the time of the leap Will was almost upon him. - -Bob sprang courageously, but wildly. Alas! “the best-laid schemes of mice -and men--” the rest is not English. - -The tangled rope in his hands proved his downfall; it coiled round his -feet with a merciless grip, and he alighted on the raft in a sorry -plight. There he lay, sprawling and struggling, a most ludicrous sight. -The more he struggled to free himself, the more tightly he was encircled -by the terrible coils. Boys, the youth who becomes entangled in one -thousand feet of rope is to be pitied. - -To add to his misery, shout after shout of laughter burst from the entire -six. _Their_ hour of triumph had, in its turn, come. - -The impetus given to the raft carried it on a little farther, but Will -soon reached it, sprang, and almost fell over struggling Robert. No need -to make him a prisoner; both hands and feet were bound fast by the long -rope. - -Will’s first act was to liberate poor Carlo, and take off his muzzle. - -Bob groaned and shivered, but the noble dog stretched himself and frisked -about the raft, scarcely noticing him. - -“Carlo, Carlo, come, Carlo,” Stephen called joyously. - -Carlo plunged into the river and swam towards his master, who, half -beside himself with exultation, cried: “Steer for this port, Will; and -bring the prisoner.” - -“All right!” Will shouted back, and put the raft to the bank to take on -Marmaduke and Jim, who soon came up. - -The raft sank low under the weight of the four, but still it floated -them; and Will and Marmaduke took up the oars and began to work their way -slowly across the stream. Jim sat on the cage and pretended to steer; but -his eyes roved from the prisoner to the boys on the opposite bank, and -then, by way of the oarsmen, back to the prisoner. - -The hearts of the six beat loud with triumph; but poor Bob’s heart -sank, and beat very faint. “Oh,” he gasped piteously from among the -serpent-like coils of the rope, “Oh, let me go! For mercy’s sake, let me -go! Don’t take me over to Stephen and his dog; and I’ll promise never to -meddle with you boys any more.” - -Will looked pityingly at the abject creature, but answered with firmness: -“No, Bob, I must take you to Stephen. You have played a mean trick on -him, and he must settle with you. But,” whispering in his ear, “I guess -you’ll survive.” - - - - -_Chapter XXVII._ - -THEY PROPOSE TO TURN THE TABLES. - - -Bob saw that it would be useless to crave further for mercy, and he -remained sulky and silent; but Jim looked in vain to see him blubber. No; -in everything except age Bob was an orthodox villain; and an orthodox -villain never whimpers when his schemes topple about his ears. On account -of his youth and inexperience, he had not provided himself with poison in -the event of failure--nay, he did not even attempt to roll off the raft -into the river. - -“This is rather a home-made rabbit-house, eh, Will?” Marmaduke observed, -inclining his head towards the cage. - -“It’s kindy weak,” Jim chimed in. “It looks strong enough to hold me, but -it keeps cracking every minute.” - -“Hush!” breathed Will. - -He had many fine qualities. Even at his early age, he could respect the -feelings of a fallen foe. - -“Hello there, Steve,” he said, as they drew near the group of three. “I -killed Tip, but I’ve saved Carlo, so my mind is easy.” - -The three returned Will’s grin of pleasure with a shout of applause. So -eager were they to welcome the victors that they tore off their boots -and stockings, rolled their pants _nearly_ up to their knees, and waded -out till the water was two or three inches _above_ their knees. Youth -manifests its enthusiasm very recklessly at times. - -At this moment Will experienced some of the triumph of a conquering hero. - -“Now, Bob,” Charles began, as they floated the raft into its harbor; -“now, Bob, you will be tried by us for your misdoings.” - -“He has surely had punishment enough; let him go;” said tender-hearted -George, sitting down on the bank and looking pityingly at the wild-eyed -captive. - -“Yes, Steve; let him go; for how on earth can we punish him?” Will -supplemented. - -“No!” Charles said resolutely. “The boy who can float another boy’s dog -over these falls is a scoundrel, and--” - -“I never did!” Bob here put in. - -“And,” continued Charles, “_he ought to be court-martialed_!” - -Bob did not know what this meant; neither did Charles; the former looked -awe-struck, the latter, wise and august. - -Steve, however, added promptly: “Of course. His father must have -court-plastered him the other night for his bruises; and now we must -court-martial him for his wickedness.” - -“Well,” said Marmaduke, seating himself with great composure, “I am going -to be neutral.” - -Poor boy, he thought “neutral” had an imposing look in his history, and -he would seize this opportunity to illustrate its beauties. - -With that, the entire six sat down in a circle around the raft. Charles -and Stephen were resolved on punishment. Jim also. For some reason, -George and Will were in favor of pardon. - -“Well, boys,” said Will, “of course you can do what you like, but I -believe I should let him go--box, and rope, and straps, and all. I -perished poor Tip, but I’ve rescued Carlo, and I’m satisfied.” - -No doubt Will thought this a very genteel expression. Not so Marmaduke: -he sprang to his feet with a gesture of surprise, and said earnestly, -“Oh, Will! _perish_ is a neuter verb!” - -Will flushed, and moved uneasily from right to left. - -“What is all this nonsense about neuters and neutrals?” Steve asked, -angrily. “What do we care about your neuters? Botheration, you boys have -put off this trial long enough. But,” with a mischievous twinkle in his -eye, “tell us what a _neuter verb_ is; and then, I hope, we may go on.” - -Marmaduke was ill prepared for such a question, and he was never prompt -in giving explanations. His face blanched, he sank dejectedly to the -ground, took off his hat and toyed with it nervously; took out his -handkerchief and feebly tried to blow his nose; looked appealingly at -the Sage; and at last began, hesitatingly: “Well, hem, Steve, _Stephen_, -I’m afraid I can hardly make it clear to you, because--because--well, -you know, Stephen, you don’t understand grammar very well. Well, -_perish_--but,” brightening and rising, “I’ll just illustrate it for you. -Now, you see, I’m standing up. Well,” suiting the action to the word, “I -_sit_ down when _I_ go to the ground; but,” suiting the action to the -word, “I _set_ down my _hat_--or _you_, or _any other boy_, or a _thing_, -or a _word_ in a book.” - -Marmaduke put on his hat and picked up and pocketed his handkerchief with -the air of a man who has triumphed. - -“Yes,” Steve admitted, “you make it pretty plain, Marmaduke; but these -neuter verbs, and conjunctions, and things, were always a muddle to me. -But,” guilelessly, “tell me this, and then we must attend to Bob: Is it -right to say, I _sit_ myself down, or I _set_ myself down?” - -Poor Marmaduke! He was struck dumb; he had a new view of neuter verbs. -A look of woe that would have melted a heart of stone passed over his -face. He arose and took a seat where Steve could not see him, muttering -confusedly: “A neuter verb can’t do anything, but active verbs do.” - -Stephen chuckled: “I always knew those rules in the grammar wouldn’t work -both ways.” - -Charles and Will did not seem inclined to help Marmaduke out of his -difficulty--probably they were as much puzzled as he. As for George, he -was not at all disconcerted: _when he understood a thing, he knew that he -understood it_. He looked on with supreme indifference, not thinking it -worth while to give his views. - -“See how Bob behaved himself the night of the experiment,” Charles -observed, coming back to the matter in hand. “He will always be trying to -do us some harm if we let him off this time.” - -“Yes,” chimed in Steve, glancing at the helpless captive, who was still -on the raft, “we let him go that night and see how he has rewarded us for -our mercy!” - -“You wouldn’t have let him escape if it hadn’t been for me;” Will -corrected. - -“We didn’t hunt him down the next day, as we might have done!” Steve -rejoined, as though that settled the question. - -“I hope we are hardly such a set of cold-blooded fellows as that!” George -said. “And besides what great harm did he do that night?” - -“Oh, you, George Andrews!” Stephen retorted wrathfully. “I suppose you -think we’re harping on your performances that night, but we’re not.” - -“You had better not, Stephen Goodfellow!” said George also becoming -wrathful. “You promised that you wouldn’t speak of that to me again.” - -It is a lamentable fact, hinted at in the outset of this history, that -these heroes quarreled occasionally. When one of these differences took -place, each one had the strange, boyish habit of calling the other by his -christian name and surname. If you doubt this, fair reader, [she for whom -this is written will understand,] be so good as to play the eavesdropper -on two small and quarrelsome juveniles disputing about the color of an -absent playmate’s marble. - -“I’m not; I’m keeping my word;” Steve replied seriously. “But perhaps -your mind is running on _clemency_, that bothered you so much the other -day.” - -“Perhaps _yours_ is running on the term ‘_Lynch law_!’” - -At this juncture neutral Marmaduke, who was beginning to recover his -equanimity, and who doubtless felt spiteful towards Stephen, hopped up -and declared, in the tone of a dictator rather than of a peacemaker: -“Gentlemen, the jury have disagreed; the case is dismissed.” - -“Marmaduke Fitzwilliams,” cried Charles, rising in his turn, “four or -five boys don’t make a jury; you don’t know what you’re talking about.” - -“Lawyers would say, _constitute_ a jury,” Marmaduke corrected. - -“Well, let ’em say it; _we_ are not lawyers;” Charles roared. - -“It would not be acting politically to punish him ourselves,” the -neutral one contended. “There is a whole court-house full of men in the -village, that make it a business to punish people.” - -Poor Marmaduke! He seemed to have a preternatural longing to figure in -the courts of justice. - -“Marmaduke,” George said musingly, “don’t you suppose you are out of your -reckoning when you say ‘acting politically’?” - -“Yes, what does ‘politically’ mean, any way?” Stephen inquired, thinking -to ensnare the boy once more. - -This time, however, Marmaduke answered without hesitation. -“Why,” said he, “it’s an adverb, and adverbs always mean, _in a -manner_--_politically, in a political manner_.” - -Steve did not seem much enlightened, and Charles with a merry twinkle, -asked, “Always?” - -“Always!” firmly. - -“Oh, then, _politically_ ought to mean, _in the manner of a policeman_; -_abed, in the manner of a bedstead_; and so on.” - -Marmaduke looked aghast, and Charles the persecutor continued -mercilessly: “_Alongside, in the manner of a man who wears a long side._” - -The neutral one was now quite discomfited, and he arose and stole back -to his seat, trying to collect himself and make out what “in a manner” -really signifies. - -But Steve yelled after him: “And _to go_ means _in the manner of a -goner_.” - -At this dreadful outrage it is a wonder that Words did not take to -themselves a voice to howl in the offender’s ear: “We cannot all be -adverbs!” - -As for Marmaduke he was utterly demoralized. - -“Whatever you do, boys, don’t leave Bob to stiffen in his coils on that -raft,” Will meekly suggested. - -Charles and Stephen were so eager to have some one side with them that -they took it for granted that Will, for very weariness, was now in -favor of punishment; and Stephen, on the spur of the moment, made this -startling observation: - -“Why not do with Bob as he did with my dog? He has got himself all in a -jumble on the raft--let us give him a ride up and down the river. It will -be good for his constitution.” - -Strangely enough, this idea was favorably received by the boys. They -laughed, and applauded Stephen. - -“It would be a very light punishment,” he continued, pressing home his -advantage. “Don’t you all agree to it? Come, Will, what is your opinion?” - -“It was you Bob was molesting, Steve, and you must stir up your -conscience to see what it says, and then go ahead,” Will answered. “You -put it very mildly, but I suppose your meaning is, to cram Bob into -Carlo’s prison, untangle the rope, and then float him around as he -floated Carlo around.” - -“Y-e-s,” Steve assented, somewhat discomposed at this plain statement of -his views. - -“I’m tired of all this,” George exclaimed, with a sigh. “Fire ahead, -Steve, and do whatever you like.” - -“Hurrah, then,” Charlie cried gladly, “let us give Bob an airing.” - -At this instant Marmaduke again appeared before the boys, and opened his -mouth to make some sage remark; but Stephen,--now all animation,--in -tones whose cheerfulness took away the harshness of the words, silenced -him, saying: “Stop your noise, Marmaduke. You’re a neuter verb, you know; -and they mustn’t do anything.” - -“Perhaps you ought to consult Bob himself,” Will suggested. “He might -observe some valuable observations about his punishment.” - -“Let the prisoner speak,” chimed in the irrepressible neutral one. - -“Well, Bob,” said Charles languidly, “moisten your lips and tongue, and -let us have your views. In the first place, what was your plot? What did -you intend to do with Carlo?” - -Bob scowled at the speaker and was silent. But finally, having thought -bettor of it, he did as directed, and said, “I was only going to fool you -fellers; I never meant to do more’n scare him,” looking at Stephen, “and -then I was going to let his dog go. But,” sorrowfully, “you came along -and spoilt it all.” - -“Suppose Carlo had gone at your heels when you let him out of the box?” -Charles asked. - -Bob turned pale and muttered something in confusion. - -“Well, what do you say about our turning the tables on you?” George asked. - -“Nothin’,” the prisoner answered stoically, still playing the part of -an orthodox villain. No; he, a boy of nearly seventeen years, would not -again beg for mercy at the hands of his inferiors--in age; and he awaited -his punishment with well-feigned indifference. - -If the boys had been better versed in human nature, they would have known -that this passive submission on his part boded evil to their future -welfare. - -Although Bob was acting like an orthodox villain, the six, in taking upon -themselves to judge and punish him, were not acting like orthodox heroes. -By no means. They were not the irreproachable youngsters who figure in -octodecimo volumes. They all had an idea of the fitness of things; and -all--even George and Will--thought it just and right that Bob should -know, by actual experience, what Carlo’s feelings had been during his -imprisonment. - - - - -_Chapter XXVIII._ - -THE TABLES TURNED WITH A VENGEANCE. - - -The six judges arose, and stood before the culprit. - -The cage was critically examined, and Steve seemed to find it very -amusing to point out its defects. Bob was pestered with questions about -it, but he maintained a sullen silence, submitting doggedly to the -inevitable. - -“We must put you into narrow quarters for a little while, Bob,” Stephen -said good-humoredly, “and try to disentangle a few leagues of this good -cord.” - -Two of the heroes supported Bob while Steve freed him from the rope. The -discomfited plotter was too stiff to make much resistance, yet when he -found himself free he struggled nervously, but feebly, to break away from -his tormentors. Then Jim, who was trying to make himself useful, threw -open the door of the cage, and Charles and Stephen dumped him gently in. - -Now, Bob had not built the cage for such a purpose; consequently, he did -not sit comfortable in it--worse still, it threatened to burst asunder. -But it did not. - -His feet and legs were got inside somehow, but his head was mercifully -left out, exposed to the sun and air. His hat had fallen off when he -sprang upon the raft, and been taken over the falls; but George, more -humane than the others, took off his own hat, and placed it firmly, but -gently, on the exposed head. - -Unknown to the soi-disant judges, the boy was wedged so fast in his cage -that he was powerless to help himself. Thus he was virtually a prisoner -in the very prison that he had prepared for another! This was turning the -tables with a vengeance! This was poetical justice! - -Poor little villain! He must have been in an exceedingly cramped and -uneasy position; but his pride and his orthodoxy came to his relief, and -he would not complain to the pitiless arbitrators of his fate. - -“Look here, boys,” George cried, “if you are bound to punish him, you -ought to kick out the end of that box, so that he could sit up straight, -like a man, and be comfortable.” - -“Yes, it _is_ too bad,” Steve said pityingly. “But it will soon be over; -and if we should go to tampering with the box, we might kick Bob in the -stomach. Besides, Bob looks more forlorn than he is; and we have no -business to destroy his boxes and things.--Now, where’s the rope, and -then we will hurry through with it and let Bob out.” - -About three hundred feet of the cord were disentangled, and once more the -raft was set afloat with a prisoner on it. - -In order to humble Bob still further, Steve intended to let Carlo carry -the end of the rope in his mouth for a little way. But now he had not the -heart to do it. As the raft floated along lazily, Steve essayed to give -a shout of triumph, but it died away in his throat. - -The dog, however, began to gambol, sneeze, and bark, in an extraordinary -manner. During the trial he had been the only really neutral one, and now -he seemed to enjoy himself more than any of the self-styled judges. Bob -looked on in some uneasiness, but he need not have been alarmed, for the -dog made no motion to swim out and attack him. - -The boys did not exactly understand it, yet somehow they seemed to take -no pleasure in floating Herriman down the stream; and instead of an -exultant procession along the bank, they marched solemnly onward, hardly -speaking, and each one becoming more and more ashamed of himself. George -had a theory of his own about this, but he did not make it known. - -Seeing that matters had gone so far, Steve and Charles did not wish to -stop till Bob had had his ride; but they felt ill at ease, and their -conscience almost persuaded them that they were in the wrong. - -So with the entire five (Jim being, as the reader has doubtless divined, -a mere supernumerary in this history, although he figures conspicuously -once or twice.) From the moment they placed the boy in his cage they -began to relent. - -To any person coming upon them, this risible spectacle would have been -presented: six boys marching gravely down the stream; some three hundred -feet in advance a raft drifting lazily along; on said raft a box, from -which protruded an enormous head,--large enough for a genius,--neatly -covered with a now battered but once respectable--nay, fashionable--straw -hat. - -Thus the raft drifted till within a quarter of a mile of the falls. Then -Stephen said, “Ever since I went over the falls I’ve felt too nervous to -prowl around very near them; so let us pull her up stream now, and let -Bob go when we get into port.” - -All agreed to this, and the rope, which had hitherto been slack, was -pulled taut. The raft stopped its downward course, and was drawn towards -them--perhaps, half a foot. - -Then something that might have been expected from the beginning happened. - -The rope broke! - -Unknown to them, the jagged edge of the raft had worn the rope all but -in two while Bob was hauling the raft towards him. In this place it now -parted. - -There was consternation among the self-constituted punishers. In truth, -it is impossible to describe their terror, anguish, and remorse. All -through their own foolishness a fellow-creature was in imminent danger. -To be swept over the falls in his helpless condition meant Death. And -whatever was done must be done quickly. - -The boys felt as guilty as criminals _ought_ to feel. - -“Bob,” Charles screamed, “climb out, and jump into the river, and swim!” - -“Oh, he can’t! he can’t!” Will cried, seeing that Bob was struggling -desperately and vainly to get out of the box. - -“George,” Steve cried wildly, “you spoke about swimming to the raft while -Carlo was on it--swim now! Quick!” - -“Of course,” the Sage replied, still a philosopher, but a perturbed one. -“Yes, of course, I’ll go.” - -To add to the confusion, stunning screams now came from Bob. He forgot -that he was a villain; all his orthodoxy and stoicism forsook him; and he -again brought his stentorian lungs into play. Far from having impaired -his lungs on the night of George’s “experiment,” he seemed only to have -strengthened them; and now he howled and bellowed like a wounded giant. - -Cannot this be explained logically? The age of the romancer’s younger -villains ranges between twenty-seven and thirty-nine; while the age of -older villains varies greatly among different authors, and, much to the -reader’s sorrow, is not always given. From this it would seem that Bob -was too young to set up for a knave. - -In view of this, the reader, having more discernment than the writer, -suggests the following: The only reason why Bob had taken it so coolly -was because he knew the boys too well to fear any harm from them. -Besides, he had heard all that was said during the “trial,” and he saw -that the boys’ anger towards him had abated. But when he found that the -raft was no longer under their control, he naturally became alarmed. - -Yes, Bob again began to discharge atrocious and high-sounding -interjections. - -All the boys saw that George was more composed than they; and by mutual -consent, he was left to plan a rescue. His coat had been off ever since -he prepared to swim to Carlos relief; and now he stripped off the rest of -his clothes, plunged into the river, and swam boldly for the imperilled -boy. - -He had, however, more self-confidence than self-possession; or he would -have run down the bank till opposite to the raft, and so have gained -time. He now swam as fast as possible; but the raft was some distance in -advance, and steadily drawing nearer the falls. - -The boys watched George anxiously, but were too demoralized to aid him in -any way. - -“Hello, you vagabonds!” was thundered behind them. “What does all this -noise mean?” - -The heroes were startled; and on turning, were appalled to see a burly -rustic coming towards them at a round pace. - -“Oh, dear,” groaned Will; “why does this fellow want to come here just at -this time?” - -“Oh, dear,” echoed Charles, Stephen, Marmaduke, and Jim. - -“What does all this mean, you young villains?” roared the new-comer. - -“A boy is floating over,” Marmaduke gasped. - -“Well, do you mean to let him float? Why don’t you -get up and save him? Oh, you awful boys! This is -murder--parricide--manslaughter--abduction--gravitation--parsimony! -What do you suppose the law’s going to say about this? It--it is -un-con-sti-tu-tion-al!” - -The five trembled--Jim exceedingly. In fact, he seemed on the point of -betaking himself to flight. - -“I say, I’ll persecute you all for litigation!” the new-comer next -observed. - -He was an ignorant, brutal man, an inhabitant of the village. In his -boyhood he had been snubbed by old and young; and now, in his manhood, he -took delight in bullying all the boys he met. - -“George Andrews, there, is trying to save him,” Will said, pointing at -the swimmer. - -“Humph! much _he’ll_ do!” growled the rustic. “Well, I’m going to set -here (at this Marmaduke shuddered) till that boy is lost or saved. Its my -duty to the Government, and I’ll do it if it takes all day.” - -His duty to the Government, however, did not prompt him to take an active -part in rescuing Bob, and he stretched himself along the bank and looked -on with dogged composure. - -George did not know of this man’s arrival. He swam bravely, but gained -on the raft very slowly. His heart sank when he saw this, but he kept on -hopefully, and just at the critical moment the raft grounded on a snag, -and was held fast. Bob was saved! Not through human agency, however. - -Bob ceased from howling, and George called out cheerily: “You are all -right, Bob; and I’m--” - -At that instant a little wave washed down his throat and effectually cut -him short. - -He had never swum so close to the falls, but he proceeded warily, and -managed it so that the shock of striking the raft eased it off the snag. -Then he scrambled on board, took up an oar, and for a full minute feared -that the current would carry them both over. But the raft was brought -under control, and slowly, very slowly, rescuer and rescued left their -dangerous position. - -“Bob, when we get a little farther up, I’ll try and get you out of that, -and then we can go faster, if you will help.” - -The joyful cries of the boys now attracted his attention, and, to his -horror, he perceived that some person was with them. - -“Oh, Bob,” he groaned, “who is that man on the bank?” - -Bob peered in the direction indicated, and said, hesitatingly, “I--I -guess it’s somebody else.” - -“Now how mean!” George growled. “I can’t land till that fellow goes away; -and here I am in a great hurry to get my clothes on, for fear a crowd -should gather round us! Bob, did you ever moralize how it is crowds -gather? Let anything happen, and a crowd is sure to come along to see how -it will end.” - -“No, I never morry-lice,” Bob replied, good-humoredly. - -“Well,” said the Sage, fetching a great sigh, “I don’t know but that you -are just as well off.” - -One by one the five were now coming along the bank, each one looking -pleased, yet crest-fallen. - -“C-can we help you in any way, George?” Marmaduke asked. - -George looked his indignation. However, he soon recovered his -equilibrium, and said, frigidly, “If one or two of you would bring my -clothes down here, and if the rest of you would stay up there with that -man, to keep him from coming here, I should be very much obliged to you -all.” - -This was done, and George brought the raft to the bank and dressed, -screened by three of his doughty school-fellows. - -“I’ll see you all again,” shouted the law-abiding rustic. And he walked -away, muttering learnedly about “burglarious incendiarism.” - -George was soon dressed, and then he set about liberating Bob, who was -still cooped up in his cage. - -“I’m afraid this will have to be broken open,” George said. - -“Break it, then!” said Bob, glaring fiendishly at his sometime darling -contrivance. - -The Sage, with the help of the other boys, then forced the top, or roof, -off the cage; and Bob was again at large. Poor boy! he did not linger, -nor make any threats, but after mumbling in George’s ear, “you’re the -best of them all,” set forward at a business-like pace. - -Then, at last, the boys got over their fright. - -George was quite satisfied with himself, and he looked about him with a -peaceful expression on his face that the others tried in vain to assume. -But now and then he would glance furtively up and down the river, to the -right and to the left. - -“What are you looking for, George?” Steve finally asked, breaking the -silence. - -“I--I--well, its rather strange that a crowd doesn’t come. Now in all -that you read, in newspapers or stories, a crowd always gathers.” - -“Not generally in murders--in the stories,” Marmaduke corrected. - -“Well, this is a pretty nice business!” Will said, ruefully. “I--I’m -ashamed of myself!” - -“So am I,” said Charles and Stephen. - -“George, I couldn’t possibly have swum out and saved that boy,” Charles -admitted, frankly. “My heart was beating like a----” - -“Yes you could,” George interrupted, not wishing to receive more praise -than he deserved. - -“How is it that it turned out so badly?” Steve asked. “Bob used us very -badly; and _we got the worst of it when we punished him_!” - -“We ought to have been merciful, and let him go as soon as Will gave him -up to us,” George commented. “That’s a good way to cure some people of -meanness,” he added, in a “moralizing” mood. - -“Well, now!” Steve ejaculated. “Jim has made off too! I guess he -skedaddled while Mr. Reiter was around.” - -“Yes; and Bob has left the spoils in our hands!” Will observed. “What -shall we do with them?” - -“They are not ours, but Bob won’t hanker for them,” Charley replied, -jocosely. “Suppose we let the prison float over the falls, with the long -rope dragging behind. Perhaps we should not be so melancholy doing that -as we were when we made a floating battery of Bob.” - -“Hurrah! Hurrah! Bravo! Well done! That’s just what we want! Now, we -can sail up to our harbor on our raft, and tow this oriental bird-cage -behind, and let it drift away whenever we choose.” - -This felicitous expression was made by Stephen, of course. - -This programme was carried out, and then the boys went home, feeling -that they had had a little satisfaction from Herriman, after all. - -Although a crowd refused to gather on the banks of the stream, yet the -news of this exploit travelled throughout the village,--which established -moralizing George’s theory,--and as each hero passed through his doors, -a storm of righteous indignation burst over his devoted head; for very -properly, honest parents were scandalized to find that their children -could commit such atrocities. - -Whether Bob still meditated vengeance is not known, as shortly after this -occurrence, Mr. Herriman borrowed some of Mr. Horner’s romances, which so -unhinged his mind that he turned gold-hunter,--or silver-hunter, he was -not morally certain which,--and removed, with his family, to a far-off -Territory, and the six heard of Bob no more. - -Poor Bob! The horror of being swept over the falls made a deep, but not -lasting, impression on his mind. - -As for the six boys, they profited little by that lesson. - -It would be wise to close this chapter here; but doubtless the reader is -aware that the writer of this tale is not wise. - -That night Marmaduke waded through the verb and adverb in five different -grammars:--one, a dog’s-eared, battered, and soiled volume, which his -father was supposed to have studied in his youth; another, a venerable -ruin, which, tradition said, had been his grandfather’s; still another, -his mother’s, whose bescribbled fly-leaves held the key to a long-buried -and almost forgotten romance; his little brother’s “Elementary;” and his -own “Logical and Comprehensive.” - -What wonder is it that the poor boy went to bed with an aching head, -feeling, like Stephen, that it is “all a muddle,” and that he did not -understand it at all? - -The object is not to ridicule the noble science of grammar, but to point -the finger of scorn at those grammarians who suppose that _children_ can -understand that science; and also to check those juveniles who flatter -themselves that they are perfect in it. - - - - -_Chapter XXIX._ - -A HORRIBLE PLOT.--THE HAUNTED HOUSE. - - -The summer holidays were again at hand. Before school closed, however, -the head master, Mr. Meadows, intended to give a prize to the “student” -who should write the best composition. Each one was at liberty to choose -his or her own subject; and the whole six--except, perhaps, Steve and -Jim--were resolved to do their best to win. - -Of course this prize was to be given with due ceremony and parade. Still, -it was not thought that any thing specially noteworthy would take place, -and the affair would not be brought up except to show the mournful -blunder made by Will. - -A few days before this, the four most distinguished heroes--Will, -Charles, Stephen, and George--assembled at their favorite resort, a mossy -bank bordering the river. Here they hatched a horrible plot--a plot -far exceeding in enormity and inhumanity the pitiful one contrived and -executed by Bob on this same river a week or so before. - -In order to show that these boys had no notion to what lengths their -unchecked fancy might lead them, their whole conversation on this -memorable occasion is given. - -“Boys,” Charles began, “I wish we could plan some amusement for the -holidays--something that would make it lively.” - -“I think we have had enough of playing tricks,” Will said with disgust. - -“We are older and wiser now than we used to be,” Charles replied, “and we -should have more sense than to get ourselves into trouble any more.” - -“What about Bob’s punishment?” asked George. “Didn’t we get into trouble -enough then, and is that so very long ago?” - -“Exceptions prove the rule!” Charles triumphantly retorted. - -“Well, what is it that you mean to do?” Steve inquired lazily. - -“Oh, I don’t know; nothing in particular;” Charles answered. “But let us -lay our heads together, and plan something startling.” - -“Very good; but who is the one to be startled?” the Sage asked. -“According to all accounts, we boys have startled the inhabitants of this -village quite enough. Only the other day I heard a good old lady say, in -speaking of us, ‘Those awful boys! They carry consternation with them!’” - -“Of course;” put in Steve. “And now that we’ve got our reputation up, we -must keep it up. It would be very wrong for us to let our talents dwindle -and rust away; so, Charley, if any new idea has come to you, let us know -it.” - -“You all know the old house away up this river?” Charles asked. - -“Well, I guess we are acquainted with it,” Will replied. “But what about -it? What could we do there?” - -“It seems to me that it would be a good thing to go there and inspect it. -I never went through it, but I should like to do that now. And when we -get there, we should feel so romantic that we might hit on something--we -might even lay a plot!” - -“What would the owner say to us for inspecting his house?” George asked. - -“Don’t you know that it has no owner?” Charley asked, in some surprise. -“I’ve heard my father say that there has been a sign with ‘For Sale’ -on it swinging there for twenty years. It’s such a crazy wreck that no -person will rent it; and I guess by this time it is a heap of ruins, and -not worth tearing down and carting away. There is only half an acre of -ground belonging to it, and likely that is full of great weeds. The man -who owns the place has more property, and he lets this go to ruin without -remorse; but every year he comes along and picks the ten or twelve apples -and pears off the old trees in the yard. He doesn’t care any more for it, -and the house has been empty so long that it’s called ‘Nobody’s House.’ -No one cares to live in such a place, so lonesome and gloomy, and with -those ghostly fruit-trees and the neglected fence, all looking like -spectres. In fact, there is a story that the place is haunted!” - -“You seem to know all about it, Charley,” said Steve. “I’ve seen it a -long way off, and I’ve heard that it is haunted, but that is all.” - -“Yes, I asked pa to tell me about it, for I want to go and explore the -place some day,” Charles replied. “And it seems to me that it would be -fun for us _all_ to go some day. What a hubbub there would be if we all -got there together! And I’m certain the ‘owner’ wouldn’t care, if we tear -the old ruin all to pieces.” - -“That’s a good idea!” said Steve, with sparkling eyes. - -“Don’t you see, we might even take up our quarters there, it’s so far out -of the way,” Charles continued. “No one would come to molest us; for more -people than you suppose, believe the house is haunted, and never go near -it.” - -“I see what you’re thinking of,” said Steve. “You mean to bring that old -ghost back to life!” - -“Well, that might be done for a little by-play, but that isn’t what I -meant,” Charley returned. “I know that boys in stories try to raise a -ghost or two sometimes, when everything else fails them, but it wouldn’t -be a profitable business for us. We don’t want to copy after such -vagabond heroes; let us strike out in another line.” - -“Well, if you have laid any plot, tell us what it is,” Stephen said -impatiently. - -“Boys, I want to hatch a plot, with that shell of a house for our -head-quarters; but I want your help, for I don’t know how to go to work. -As I said before, I haven’t thought of any thing yet.” - -“Don’t tell us what you ‘said before,’ Charley;” said Will. “It sounds -too much like a lecturer reminding the people of what he has said, just -as if he thought they didn’t pay attention enough to him to remember a -word of his speech.” - -“Well, boys, I have an idea at last,” Charles said slowly, after a long -pause. “Let us persuade some one to go there, thinking a great villain -has a prisoner there.” - -“Pshaw! Who would believe that!” said George, contemptuously. - -“Wait till we get everything arranged,” Charles rejoined grimly. “This -is a good idea, George, and I can prove it to you. And now that I have -thought of it, I am going to work it out. We might even compose a letter, -begging for help, and seeming to come from some lonely prisoner in that -house, guarded by jailers and villains, and afraid of being put to death.” - -“I don’t know who would be foolish enough to be caught by such a letter,” -George replied laughingly. - -“Well, let us try it, anyway; and if we succeed it will be capital -sport,” said Stephen, interested already in the scheme. “But who will be -the victim, the fellow to be imposed on?” he asked suddenly. “Surely none -of us, after what we have said, will be foolish enough to be trapped.” - -“Hardly,” said Charles, with a smile. “But Marmaduke isn’t with us; let -us make him the dupe.” - -“Why single out Marmaduke?” asked Will. - -“Well, the victim must be one of ourselves, and Marmaduke knows nothing -about our plot, of course. And besides, he is so full of mysteries and -romance that if he should get such a letter, he would believe every word -in it, and be mad to plan a rescue. His notions about such things are so -queer that it will do him good to be wakened up.” - -“If Marmaduke is the one to be awakened,” George said, “I think your plan -may succeed very well; because, poor fellow, he is always expecting to -light on some prodigious mystery. I must give in, Charley, that it would -be fun to drop such a letter some place where Marmaduke would be sure -to find it, and then we could hide ourselves and see the result. How he -would rave at the thought of rescuing a captive!” - -“Doesn’t it seem to you, boys, that it would be rather a mean trick to -play on anyone, especially on a schoolfellow?” Will asked. - -“Certainly it seems mean,” Charles replied, “but it is only for fun, and -Marmaduke would enjoy it at the time, and soon get over his anger when -we explained everything. Of course, we will be and careful not to do -anything _too_ wicked.” - -“Well, it is bad to stir up such a boys anger,” Will persisted. - -“Let me improve on your plot,” Steve ventured to say. “Let us suppose -that a beautiful French young lady was stolen by an enemy of her father’s -and brought over to America, and imprisoned in ‘Nobody’s House.’ Let her -write a wild appeal for help, which we will drop in Marmaduke’s path.” - -“That’s going a little too far,” Charley said decidedly. “I shouldn’t -like to meddle in such a desperate game as that.” - -“Wouldn’t a French captive be apt to write a letter in her own language?” -Will asked, as though he were overseeing that scheme. - -“That would be the fun of it,” Stephen answered. “A letter in genuine -French would draw a less romantic boy than Marmaduke.” - -“Very true,” said George. “But could you write such a letter?” - -“Of course not--Mr. Meadows himself couldn’t, perhaps. Ten to one, -Marmaduke would think he could do it perfectly.” - -“Marmaduke may be rather foolish,” said Charles, “but I doubt whether he -would write such a letter, and then be imposed on by it!” - -“Do you take me for a fool?” cried Stephen, with theatrical indignation. -“Now, Will’s cousin Henry can scribble French like a supercargo, Will -says--let us get him to do it.” - -“The very thing!” cried Charles and George in a breath. “Come, Will, we -are going to do this, and you must help us,” the former requested. - -“I don’t like your ideas at all, boys,” Will replied, “but if you are -bound to do it, why, I don’t want to be left out, and so I’ll write to -Henry, and get him to come here. He spoke of coming soon when he wrote -to me last; and now I’ll ask him to hurry along as soon as the holidays -begin.” - -“You’re a jewel, Will!” all three exclaimed in excitement. - -“Oh, we’ll hatch a famous plot, won’t we, boys?” and Steve, the speaker, -clawed the ground as though he were a demon or a hag. - -“It’s my turn to suggest something now,” the Sage observed. “When -Marmaduke sets out for the prison-house, we, of course must go with him. -Let Henry and Stephen, or whoever we may think best, slip on in advance, -and represent the prisoner and the fiendish villain when we arrive.” - -A shout of acclamation greeted this new proposal. - -“The plot is getting pretty thick,” said Steve. “And now, what about the -ghost in the back-ground?” - -“Oh, we might manage to have a ghost appear to Marmaduke, but we can -attend to that afterwards,” Charles returned. “Now, Will,” he added, “its -your turn to improve on our plot--what do you suggest?” - -“I shall leave that for my cousin to do,” Will answered. “Unless I’m out -of my reckoning, he will make improvements on the original plan that will -astonish us all; for it is as natural for Henry to lay plots as it is for -Steve to play tricks.” - -“Yes, Henry will make great improvements,” Charles commented. “Well, now -that it is settled that the thing is really to be, we must all vow to -keep it to ourselves, because if any more boys get hold of it they will -spoil everything.” - -“Very true,” George observed. “Now, if we want our plot to work well, we -must go to this old building and explore it thoroughly, from the cellar -floor to the rafters. But our plot can’t come off till holidays begin, -nor till Henry gets here and understands it, so there will be plenty of -time.” - -“If it is such a crazy old hulk,” Will said gravely, “ten to one -something will give way, and bury us all under the ruins.” - -“We must take our chances,” Steve said heroically. - -“There is one great objection to all this,” Will continued. “This -building is so far from our homes in the village.” - -“Yes, that is too bad,” Steve sighed. “But we won’t mind that when we -consider all the fun in store for us. Why not go to the place now? Eh? -There’s lots of time, and we are so far on the way.” - -“Hurrah!” cried the conspiring four. “Let us be off, as Steve says.” - -They arose, and turned their faces up the river. The untenanted house -which was to be the field of operations was two miles farther up the -river, which flowed past it, but which, at that place, was so narrow that -it would require a very wide stretch of imagination to call it anything -else than a brook, or creek. - -Stephen’s first proposal had been received, when fully explained, as so -decided an improvement that he now suggested another addition to the -plot. “Boys,” he said, “let us make a man of straw, or something, to look -like a scarecrow, and then stow it away in the house a day or two before -we do the rescuing. Then when Marmaduke and the rest of us arrive, we can -seize on it as the villain, and hang it to a fruit tree. Marmaduke can -be rescuing the prisoner at the time, and he’ll certainly think we are -hanging the persecutor.” - -“We will see about that afterwards,” said George. - -“Marmaduke has been more or less a Frenchman in his ideas ever since the -day he proudly wrote, ‘Nous a deux chiens,’ or in English, ‘We has two -dogs,’” Charles observed, intending to be very sarcastic. - -But he could not speak French well--in fact, he could not speak it at -all. However, the others thought this must be a very weighty remark, and -so they laughed approvingly. - -Then Charles continued, as though he took a fatherly interest in the lad: -“Perhaps this great conspiracy of ours may induce him to become a good -American again.” - -Will’s conscience was now at work, and he said as severely as he knew -how: “It’s a shame to serve a boy of his notions such a boorish trick, -and you boys needn’t flatter yourselves that such a performance will do -him a bit of good. Let us explore the house as much as we please; but let -us give up the intention of preying on him.” - -“No!” cried the others, with fixed determination, “We have hit on this, -and we’ll go through with it, if it makes our hair turn gray! Will, if -you want to leave us, after all, why, go ahead; but you would be a very -foolish fellow to do it. Come, now, give your reasons--what is there so -very wicked and horrible in our plot?” - -“I am not a moralist, boys, and so I can’t explain it. All that I know -is, that it seems a mean thing to do. And, yes, I have a presentiment -that something terrible will happen.” - -“So have I, boys,” Steve chimed in. “I have the worst kind of a -presentiment. But just to prove that presentiments are superstitions and -nonsense, I’m bound to help Charley work out his plot.” - -“Well, then,” said Will resignedly, “if you _will_ do it, I promise to -stick by you through thick and thin.” - -“Then it’s settled, boys,” said Charles eagerly. “And whatever happens, -we four will stick by each other, and hold on to our plot.” - -“Yes,” commented the sage, bringing his learning into requisition, “we -four are a cabal, a faction, a junto, a party of intriguers, a band of--” - -“--Of good-for-nothing school-boys,” Charles said quickly, not wishing to -be ranked as a greater personage than he was. - -In due time the house was reached. It was a forlorn-looking building, -truly, and in a solitary place; but it was hardly so dilapidated as -Charles supposed. It was now old, uncared for, and weather beaten; but -when new, had been a handsome and pleasant house, suitable for a small -family. It was a story and a half in height, with four or five rooms on -the first floor and as many on the second. If built in a less dreary, -locality, it probably would never have been without a tenant. But the man -who built this wayside dwelling must have had more means than brains. - -Even the rough boys of the village shunned this place; consequently, -after all these years, there was still here and there a whole pane of -glass in almost every window-sash. As for the doors, the best of them -had been taken away, and the two or three that remained, were, as may be -supposed, worthless and useless. - -The floor of the first story was still sound. Up the creaking stairs the -plotters went recklessly, and found a state of even greater desolation -than below. The rooms here had never been particularly elegant, and now -they were filthy and horrible with accumulated dust, mould, and rubbish. -The roof was full of holes, through which the water evidently streamed -whenever it stormed. The roof was originally set off with two picturesque -chimneys; but inexorable Time had already demolished one, and was playing -havoc with the other. - -Next they went to explore the cellar; but the earth had caved in and -partially filled it up, and it was so dark and loathsome that even the -hero Stephen hesitated to descend. Then, as the front door had been taken -away and the entrance secured with boards, they crawled through a window, -and once more gained the pure air. - -All things considered, even a pirate would have shrunk from passing a -night in this house. But a peaceable, home-keeping ghost, in search of a -summer residence, could not have found a more suitable one than this. The -parlor would have served him admirably for a bed-room, while the dining -room could have been fitted up for a laboratory; and in case any chance -comers should intrude on him, he could have buried himself in the cellar, -where he would have been perfectly safe. - -In fact, this was an excellent building for a ghost’s headquarters; but -it would require unlimited faith in romance to believe it a likely place -for a prison-house. - -Evidently the plotters were dissatisfied with it, and Steve said -disconsolately, “Well, such a rum old bomb-shell of a hole I never saw! I -guess our plot will have to find other quarters, or else be given up.” - -“Oh, we can come here and tinker it up,” Charles said hopefully. - -“Yes, it’s bad enough; but it’s a good deal better than Charley seemed -to think,” Will observed. “As Steve says, or means, it isn’t exactly the -place that a French villain would choose for a prison, when the whole -world is before him.” - -“Did we decide how the Frenchman was to bring his prisoner from France -to our sea-coast, and then on to this place?” George asked, beginning to -have a just appreciation of the difficulties that lay before them. - -“It will be safe to leave all that for my cousin to arrange,” Will said -proudly. “He will make everything clear in the letter, I’m sure.” - -“Of course he will,” Steve said promptly. “Now, I say, boys, there is one -thing that puzzles me: this place is worth exploring and I should like -nothing better than to ransack it again; but why have we never been here -before?” - -“Exactly;” chimed in the Sage, as another doubt arose in his mind. -“Charley, if this place is really so worthless, and if it is free to all, -why haven’t we been in the habit of coming here often, to fool away our -time?” - -Charley reflected a moment, and then said, boldly, “Well, if we look at -it as a play-house, it’s too far gone for that; and if we look at it as -a heap of romantic and interesting ruins, it isn’t gone far enough,--not -destroyed or broken down enough, for that;--so why should we want to come -here, except on account of our plot? There’s nothing else to draw us; -and ten to one we should never have thought of coming here at all, if it -hadn’t been for the plot. And as for being a place worth keeping up, I -don’t know about that; but the man it belongs to doesn’t seem to think it -is. Why, boys, we can have it all to ourselves; it will be just the place -for our prison.” - -“Well,” said Steve, “by the time we get it cleaned, and scoured, and, -tinkered, and made respectable and ship-shape, we shall all be good -housekeepers, and housemaids, and masons, and carpenters, and tinkers, -and--and--. Boys,” suddenly, “we needn’t stand here staring in at this -window, when we haven’t been through the garden yet.” - -The yard, or garden, was then viewed, as suggested; and certainly it -did not seem as though care or labor had been bestowed on it for many -years. It was overrun with a growth of luxuriant weeds and thistles; and -Charles,--the head plotter till Henry should arrive,--after escaping, by -a hair’s breadth, from being swallowed up in an out-of-the-way and only -partially covered old well, concluded that they had had glory enough for -one day, and proposed that they should go home. - -So the heroic four turned their faces homewards, and jogged on, plotting -and exultant. - -That night one of them was troubled with fitful and uneasy dreams, -in which he saw Marmaduke struggle manfully with frightful monsters, -fashioned of old clothes and villains; whilst hideous French whales -soared overhead, winked their wicked eyes, and swore they would catch -every boy and dismember him in the deserted and spectre-peopled house. - -When the dreamer of this dream awoke, he muttered: “Well, this is a -presentiment; but, to prove that presentiments are humbugs, I’ll go -through with this plot of ours, if--” - -Further comment is needless. - -It is cruel in a romancer to anticipate, but sometimes it is necessary in -order to make both ends meet. In this case, it is justifiable; therefore -it may be said that as soon as the holidays began, frequent journeys -were made to ‘Nobody’s House,’ and the sound of the hammer and the saw, -together with strains of popular airs, rang out in its deserted chambers. -The plotters worked with a will, and with the utmost disregard for the -noxious vermin which abounded in their midst, and which they did not -attempt to exterminate. Their efforts were rewarded; for the house was so -transformed that the ghosts, who, in their heart of heart, they fancied -inhabited it, would have failed to recognize it. - -In the upper story a dangerous place was found, where a person might fall -through the floor. This was marked out and avoided. - -In this world everything proves useful one day or another; and this -house, after lying idle all these years, after being a nuisance to its -owner, a by-word in the community and a reproach to it, was at last to -prove of the greatest usefulness to these boys and to the writer of this -history. - -It is now in order to return and chronicle the events that took place -before the holidays opened. - - - - -_Chapter XXX._ - -THE BLUNDERER AT WORK AGAIN. - - -Will was now at work on a very learned dissertation on “Philosophical -Ingenuity.” That is the name he gave it,--but the name had nothing -in common with the subject, “Socialism” would have been quite as -appropriate,--and according to his views, he handled it in a graphic, -original, and striking manner; and he was firmly convinced that he should -make a very good thing of it. - -Poor boy, it was too bad, after all the pains he took. - -What was too bad? - -This. The same evening on which he wrote out his composition for the last -time, he sat up late and wrote to his cousin Henry, inviting him to come -and pay them a visit in the holidays. - -When this boy (Will) gave Stephen gunpowder instead of fire crackers, and -again when he loaded Henry’s pistols with wads, his mistakes were glossed -over, and he himself was laughed at, rather than blamed. But _now_ the -truth must be made known; he cannot be excused any longer. Right over his -eyes, where the phrenologists locate order, there was a depression. - -There, the secret is out, and the writer’s conscience is easy. - -Boys, it is hard to have to deal with a hero who is not a paragon; but -you must be indulgent, and we will do our best. - -After finishing and directing the letter to his cousin, Will went to bed -and slept peacefully, little dreaming of the thunderbolt which would soon -burst over his head, and which he himself had prepared. - -Next morning he found his writing materials strewn over his table in -great confusion, and in a lazy, listless manner he set to work to put -them to rights. - -In order to keep his composition, or “essay,” perfectly clean, he -intended to put it into an old envelope. Alas, poor boy, he made a -blunder, as usual; and mistaking the composition for the letter, he -thrust it into the envelope directed to Henry, which he sealed on the -spot, and stowed away in his pocket. Then he put the letter into the old -envelope and put it carefully away in his satchel. - -Not one boy in fifty could possibly have made so egregious a blunder, but -nothing else could be expected from Will. - -On this eventful day, the “essays,” as Teacher Meadows saw fit to call -them, were to be read, and the prize was to be delivered over to the -“successful competitor.” - -Full of his expected triumph, Will set out for school. He _knew_ that -_his_ composition was good, and he could judge what the _others_’ would -be. He was a little uneasy about George and Charles, but as for the -rest--pshaw! the rest couldn’t write! - -He imagined he saw his schoolmates watching him as he went home that -evening with about the biggest book ever printed. He even heard their -disappointed tones, and saw their sullen and envious looks, as he passed -through the streets. - -And that old lady who often cast admiring glances towards him--she -would call next day and say, “Well, Mrs. Lawrence, your boy is just the -smartest boy in the whole village.” - -In a day or so Stephen would drop in and let him know what was said about -it by the villagers in general, the schoolboys in particular. - -And when his uncle and aunt heard the news, they would certainly be -overjoyed, and send him (just what he wanted, of course) a monkey! As -soon as it could be done, his father would buy him a little gun. - -Full of these dreams, he went on, stopping at the post office to send, as -he supposed, his letter to Henry. - -Time wore away, and the hour for the “essays” to be read, came at last. -Teacher Meadows took his seat, and they were laid on the desk before him. -Good man, he himself would read them all, lest the “composers” should -not do themselves justice. - -Only a dozen or so had competed for the prize, but all these had done -their best, and the handwriting was so plain that it was a pleasure to -read it. - -A few of the competitors’ parents and “well-wishers” were present, “to -see justice done to all,” as they pleasantly put it. But they served -only to increase the master’s pompousness and self-esteem, and the -“essayists’” bashfulness and inquietude; while they themselves were -surely neither very much instructed nor very much delighted. - -In fact, the truth was probably forced home to the more intelligent of -the audience, that schoolboys and schoolgirls who would soar to the -pinnacle of fame by attempting to write beyond their capabilities, -generally find themselves floundering about in the slough of ignominious -failure. - -Mr. Meadows certainly read the different compositions with great care and -earnestness, and took as much pains with the worthless ones as with the -tolerably good ones. - -By some chance, Will’s was the last to be read, and dead silence was -observed till it was finished. - -Whenever a new idea had struck the boy, he had set it down without the -slightest regard to consecutiveness; and if the same idea was afterwards -seen in a different light, he had promptly expressed his views, though in -the midst of a paragraph. - -A mere handful of words had been sufficient for him on this occasion, and -these were repeated with unwearied persistency. A schoolboy writing a -letter excels in repetition, at least. - -If either Mr. or Mrs. Lawrence had reviewed it for him it would not have -been so incomprehensible. - -The letter ran as follows: - - DEAR HENRY,--I am going to write to you all about us boys and - our doings, and tell you all about a great plot that all of us - are going to have. I received your letter of last month safe - and sound, and I expect you expected to hear from me right off. - But, Henry, I’ve had all sorts of things to do, and just now - we boys are trying for a prize. I expect it will be a beauty. - I would not write till it’s all over, but we boys want me to - write to you right off to come down and help us in a plot we’ve - got made up to impose on one of our number. I’ve been puzzling - over my essay for the prize for nearly three weeks or more (the - boys here don’t know that) or I should have written before; - and so, just to please them, I’m sitting up late and writing - to-night instead of day after to-morrow. - - They expect it will be the most tremendous fun that ever was, - and of course it will. I’m rather tired of playing tricks, but - they say this isn’t playing tricks at all. In your last letter - you asked me if the boys were the same rum old poligars that - they used to be. I don’t know what that means, Henry, but I - guess the boys are just the same--only worse. Well, Henry, I - guess I’ll try and give you a better idea of them than I did - when I was with you. You know all their names; so first there - is Charley. He is a capital good sort of a fellow, and he often - helps me. But he is a very queer sort of a fellow, and he - thinks it’s tremendous big fun to use big words when he talks - with us--well, so do the others. It seems natural for George to - use them, but I don’t know why Steve does. I expect he thinks - it’s tremendous big fun too. - - Stephen is a great fellow to play tricks. My father says if he - lives, and keeps on at this rate, he and the law will meet with - violence some of these days. - - But I hope Stephen will never get into such trouble. He makes - us laugh more than all the other boys put together, and I - expect when you come down and we get fairly started rescuing - the captive, we’ll laugh ourselves sick in bed. Marmaduke, he’s - the one, is not to see you till in the haunted house. - - Charley likes to have me tell him stories about the demon. - Marmaduke--he’s the next one to tell about. We boys are not - very well satisfied with the way we get on in French. We - haven’t a genuine Frenchman for a master, as you have. We - all like Mr. Meadows, but he has not the knack of making us - understand French, though he is a splendid teacher in other - things. But the boys all say that Marmaduke is satisfied. - - Because he can write “A red-haired sailor dressed in blue - says the physician’s house is burnt,” “The king’s palace is - built on the river,” “The neighbor’s wicked little boy has - stolen the carpenter’s hammer,” and so on, he thinks he and - the French language understand each other. Mr. Meadows himself - isn’t satisfied with the Method he uses. One boy here says - the reason he doesn’t get a better one is because he studied - it when he was a boy, and, etc., etc. But that is a very mean - thing to say, eh, Henry? and I don’t believe it a bit. That’s - the reason we want you to come, to write us a good letter in - French. George is a nice boy. He always says, look here, boys, - when he has something on his mind. He reads a great deal, but - it doesn’t spoil him from being a boy a bit. Ask him what - he reads, and he’ll say, Oh, anything from an almanac to an - unabridged dictionary, and I expect that is so. Marmaduke is - just the wildest boy in his notions that I ever saw. The boys - mean to take advantage of this, and delude him. But I have - explained all that. Jim always, generally, goes with us, and he - is the most first-rate coward that I ever saw. We’ve shut him - out this time. But he is a nice fine boy in lots of things. - - In reading over what I’ve written I’m afraid I haven’t - explained our plot at all, Henry; but it’s too long to explain - now, because I’m tired, Henry, and I expect to see you soon, - Henry, and then I can explain it better than I could in - writing. Perhaps I’ve written too much about the boys, but you - know just how much I think of them. They are all good fellows - and we would do almost anything for each other. We don’t care - much for the other boys here, only ourselves. I can tell you - this much about our plot, we pretend to rescue a prisoner out - of an old house. George calls it the necropolis, and Charley - the scare-crow’s factory; but Stephen has a better name--at - least, it sounds better. He calls it the Wigwam of the Seven - Sleepers. Last time I forgot to ask you to excuse my writing, - so I might as well now, this time. I’m too tired to write any - more this time, and my letter is pretty long, anyway. Don’t - wait to write again, but come as soon as possible next week, - for our plot will come off as soon as possible. - - I am, I was, and I always mean to be, - - YOUR SLEEPY COUSIN WILL. - - - - -_Chapter XXXI._ - -WILL MENDS HIS WAYS. - - -Teacher Meadows read this remarkable letter as though uncertain whether -he were asleep or awake. It would be difficult to describe the effect on -the “audience.” They were not particularly emotional people, but this -letter seemed to affect them strongly. - -Poor Will! his cup of sorrow was full! The first words told him the -mistake he had made, and he listened, with the anguish of despair, while -Teacher Meadows read on remorselessly to the end. He could neither creep -under his seat nor steal out of the apartment. He knew that every eye was -fixed upon him--oh, what would people think! Once, when the letter was -nearly finished, he ventured to glance towards some of his school-mates; -but their faces were so full of anger, astonishment, and horror, that he -hastily looked in another direction. - -But in the midst of all this suffering, there was one consolation--his -parents were unable to be present. He knew how grieved they would feel, -and so he rejoiced at their absence, and bore his misery as patiently as -he could. - -And yet he was tortured almost beyond endurance. Oh, why had he written -so freely about his school-fellows in this letter? Why had he written so -disrespectfully about Mr. Meadows, who was always so kind to him? - -Teacher Meadows, who scarcely ever spoke unkindly to his pupils, now said -to the hero, in a constrained and harsh voice: “I cannot understand how -any boy could think such a subject--say, rather, _want_ of subject--and -so free an expression of his views, could possibly win him the prize.” - -In a low and faltering voice, Will said something about “a great mistake.” - -“Oh, a _mistake_,” said Mr. Meadows. Then he added sarcastically: “That -is too bad; for if your friend Henry had received this letter, he would -have had a _very_ vivid idea of your comrades’ characteristics and of -your teacher’s incapacity.” - -Then, remembering that others were present, he checked himself, and said -more mildly, “Will, I am disappointed in you; I had formed a much better -opinion of you. There, let it pass; I shall say no more about it.” - -Poor boy, he was certainly to be pitied! Censure was to him intolerable; -and censure before all these people! Truly, he was being punished for his -carelessness. - -After all, he had not said anything so very wicked about either teacher -or school-fellows; and perhaps an impartial judge would have decided -that, all things considered, the writer of such a letter deserved the -prize. But Mr. Meadows’ judgment was biassed; he felt insulted; and he -thought otherwise. - -“But,” chuckles the astute reader, “surely Marmaduke could not be duped -after that!” We beg your pardon, gentle reader; but if you think that, -you are not skilled in the art of writing stories. - -Marmaduke, also, was unable to attend school that day; and if you read -the letter carefully once more, you will perceive that it is so vague and -incoherent that no one except the four in the plot could make anything -out of it. Those who heard it would not perceive that any great danger -menaced Marmaduke; and even if they should warn him to be on his guard, -he would hardly connect this letter with the one he was to receive in due -time. No; Marmaduke would be as unsuspicious as ever, no matter how much -he might be warned. - -And thus it happened that Will’s muddled wits preserved the plot. - -But the other boys! Ah, they had reason to feel aggrieved and insulted! - -All except George were indignant at poor foolish Will. Mr. Meadows had -decided that the odds were in favor of George, and, much to the chagrin -of four ink-loving youths who _knew_ they would win, he bore away the -prize. He was a philosopher, but not a stoic, and now supreme content -played over his visage. In fact, he felt so joyous and exultant that he -could laugh at Will’s blunder. - -Not so, the others. Out of sight and hearing of the people, they pounced -on Will, (figuratively speaking,) and glared at him with the most -ferocious and horrible expression of countenance that they could put on. - -Even good-natured Charles was vexed to be thus openly criticized, and he -said sullenly, “Well, Will, I guess you needn’t call our plot mean after -this.” - -Will heaved a sigh, but said nothing. - -“Look here, boys,” the winner of the prize interposed; “suppose that one -of us had been asked by a cousin a long way off to give an opinion of his -school-fellows, would it have been as mild and as sincere as the one Will -gave? I know that a great many boys would have said far meaner things -than Will did; for, when a boy comes to speak of his school-fellows, he -will hardly ever say a word in their praise. I’ve often wondered why it -is,” musingly, “and I think sometimes a boy is a blockhead, anyway. Well, -perhaps it isn’t so; perhaps I’m mistaken. Come, Charley; be just to poor -Will.” - -“Listen to the orator!” mockingly observed a defeated competitor [not -one of the six]. “He talks as though he made it a business to study a -‘school-fellow’s’ habits!” - -“The prize has made an oracle and a hero of him,” chimed in another, who -probably felt that there was more or less truth in the Sage’s remarks. - -“What’s the name of his prize, anyway?” queried still another defeated -one, with considerable interest in his tones, but not deigning to glance -towards the victor. - -“Oh, it’s some mighty _good_ book, I suppose;” answered the first -speaker. “In fact, so _good_, that it’s _bad_!” - -The four inky-fingered youths who _knew_ they would win, thought this so -comical that they laughed derisively. - -George’s eyes flashed fire and his blood boiled, but he said, as calmly -as he could, “I’ve often noticed that boys that guess at things hardly -ever hit the mark. Now, your ideas about this prize are very wild; for -it’s about a midshipman’s cruise round the world.” - -The four defeated ones scowled at him, and one of them said, as he turned -to go, “Well, boys, we might as well be off, for these fellows don’t care -for us, they say.” - -And they strode away, leaving the four plotters together. - -It may not be pertinent to the subject to picture here so dark a side of -life, but now the reader will understand why the six avoided the society -of the other boys of the village, and clung to each other. Poor fellows, -with all their faults, they were free from such jealous passions. - -As soon as they found themselves alone, George said eagerly, “Come, -Charles, don’t be too hard on Will.” - -“Well, George, I don’t know but that you’re right in what you said,” -Charles admitted; “but it was very unpleasant for us, and what will -people think?” - -“Pshaw! what do we care about that!” the Sage exclaimed contemptuously, -hugging the prize to his bosom. “After all, I don’t know but that Will -said more in favor of us than against us; and wasn’t it worse for him -than for us? If he can bear it, _we_ can.” - -“George is quite right,” Stephen declared. “Will is more to be pitied -than all of us put together.” - -“I don’t want anybody’s pity,” Will said sourly. - -“Marmaduke and Jim got it the worst,” said Steve. “The only thing that -troubles me at all, is that our plot is spoiled;” in a doleful tone. - -“Spoiled! How is it spoiled?” the Sage inquired. “Marmaduke wasn’t there -to hear the letter, and no one else could make any sense out of it.--I--I -mean,” he added quickly, “no one would know what it meant.” - -“Well, how are we to patch it up again?” Charles asked uneasily. - -“I think we had all better make up friends with Will this minute, and -get him to write to his cousin again,” George said, smiling brightly. - -Charles and Stephen were of the same opinion, but poor Will was in a bad -humour, and he said sullenly, “I won’t write to him any more; so that you -needn’t make up with me on that account.” - -The boys were appalled. George’s words had revived hope in their breast, -but now it seemed that their darling scheme must fail; for, without -Henry to write the letter and help them forward, it would be only a -humdrum affair; and unless Will would send for him, he perhaps would not -come--or, if he should come, he would spend all his time with Will, and -have nothing to do with them. Consequently, the three crowded round Will, -made him so sensible of his own importance, and played their parts so -well, that he finally smiled, relented, and promised to do any thing they -wished. - -“And you will write soon, won’t you?” Charles asked eagerly. - -“Yes; I’ll write as soon as I can;” Will returned. “Say, boys,” -anxiously, “do any of you know what Mr. Meadows did with my--my letter?” - -“Yes; he kept it for a witness against you;” wickedly and promptly -answered quick-witted Stephen. - -“Jim is the next one for us to deal with,” said George; “and,” sighing -profoundly, “there’s the rub!” - -Then Charles, who had been reading a novel of the “intensely interesting” -sort, said jocosely, “Perhaps we can buy his silence.” - -“As the nervous old gentleman said when he gave a nickel to a little boy -to stop his noise,” Steve subjoined. - -“He will have to be soothed and let into our councils,” the Sage -observed, “and perhaps it will be just as well, because we shall need -more than five to manage our plot, and ‘the more, the merrier,’ you know.” - -“I know something, too; I know that ‘too many cooks spoil the pudding,’” -said Steve, in a tone of melancholy foreboding. - -“Stephen Goodfellow, we are not cooks!” Charles retorted. - -Soon afterward the plotters separated; Will, to go sorrowfully homeward; -George, to hasten gladly to his parents and be congratulated on his -success; Charles and Stephen to find, “soothe,” and let into their -councils, the boy called Jim. - -It is sufficient to say that Jim was overjoyed to take part in their -plot, though vexed at them for having kept him in the dark so long, and -at Will for having spoken of him as a “first-rate coward.” - -Thus the bad effects of the exchanged composition were remedied, though -mischief enough had been done by causing Teacher Meadows to have a bad -opinion of Will. And Will, foolish boy, fancied that by this means he had -been cheated out of the prize. - -Perhaps it was the best thing that could possibly have happened to him, -for, from that day forward, he cultivated order so assiduously and -determinedly that in course of time he became more orderly than even -George. He vowed to wreak dire vengeance on himself if such a mishap -should ever again befall him, and it was noticed by his mother and -schoolfellows that his ridiculous blunders were on the decrease. With -all his belongings in perfect order, it was much easier to keep out of -trouble; especially, as he was also more circumspect in all his movements -than heretofore. - -An additional advantage. Two bumps, one over each eye, took root, and -grew, and grew, and continued to grow, till they bulged out exceedingly. -Not knowing the cause of this, Will continued to cultivate order, and -his bumps continued to grow and bulge out, till he became the most -distinguished looking youth in the village. - -Boys, never mind the bumps, but take the moral to heart, and if any of -you are untidy, reform before your want of order exposes you to disgrace -and pain, as Will’s did him. - - - - -_Chapter XXXII._ - -THE ARCH-PLOTTER ARRIVES. - - -On the next day Will wrote another letter to his cousin, in which he -invited him to come and pay them a visit. He gave a rambling explanation -of the “essay,”--which, he thought, would not only puzzle, but also -astound, poor Henry--and avoided mentioning his school-fellows at all. -In fact, he had resolved in his mind that hereafter, in writing letters, -he would confine himself to the matter in hand, and not discourse on the -virtues and vices, the wisdom and folly, of his school-fellows. As for -the plot, he said simply that they had “a game on foot,” filling up his -letter by giving an interesting record of the weather for the past month, -and a touching account of a lump on his horse’s hind leg. - -Will posted his letter with a light heart, feeling that his presentiments -must have related to the exchanged composition, and that now all would be -well. - -In the eloquent words of sundry novelists: “It was well for him that he -could not look into the future.” - -The holidays had now begun, and, as was said above, the plotters spent a -great part of their time in fitting up the deserted house, which was to -be the scene of their comedy--or tragedy, as the event should prove. - -Having done this, the plotters, Jim included, again assembled in solemn -council, to deliberate on certain features of their plot. They wished -to make themselves thoroughly acquainted with all the details, so that -everything should work smoothly. - -“Now, when Henry comes,” said Will, “we must meet him at the station, and -keep him out of Marmaduke’s sight till he sees him in the ‘Wigwam’ as -the captive. Marmaduke will be all unprepared, and will take him for the -captive without a doubt.” - -“Yes,” Charles assented; “but will Henry consent to be rigged out as a -French captive?” - -“Oh, he will have to do that,” said Will; “he will have to do whatever we -tell him; and _we_ shall have to do whatever he tells us. Oh, we shall -work together just like a--a--like a--” - -“Like the works of a clock,” suggested Steve, never at a loss for a -simile, however inapt it might be. - -“Well,” Charles observed, “let us make a being of straw, or old clothes, -to look like a discomfited tramp in effigy, and then hang him out of a -window up-stairs. Marmaduke will take it for the persecuting captor, -of course. And besides, we shall want something to do while Henry and -Marmaduke are rescuing each other. This is your idea, Steve,” he added, -“and I give you all the credit for it.” - -All the plotters were in favor of doing this, and so _that_ question was -settled. - -Jim--who bore the plotters a grudge for not having acquainted him with -their designs till forced to do so--was suddenly struck with a peculiarly -“bright” idea. He said nothing to them, but chuckling grimly to himself, -he muttered fiendishly: “It would serve ’em right, I guess, anyway!” - -Stephen was suddenly struck with a horrible fear; he gasped faintly: -“Boys!--say, boys! Oh, dear! Boys, won’t the French young lady be -supposed to speak in her own language? And how could Marmaduke understand -that?--that is, if Henry could speak it right along?” - -The plotters were appalled. With consternation in every face, they stared -at each other in utter hopelessness, whilst their beloved plot tottered -on its foundations. - -But presently the Sage, with his customary philosophy, came to the -rescue. Said he: “Look here, boys, all that is necessary is to have -the captor and the wicked jailers teach the beautiful captive to speak -English, broken English, a little. Alas, it seems to me that this captive -will be an endless trouble to us, and I think Henry will wish himself -himself again. Yes, I shall be glad when its all over.” - -“Never mind;” said Stephen. “Now, this broken English will settle _that_ -question; but, Will, can Henry speak broken--I mean _cracked_--English?” - -“Of course he can,” said Will confidently; “he can do anything.” - -The self-styled conspirators breathed freely, for their plot was now -established on a firm foundation. - -The work of fashioning a “being” progressed rapidly; and the day -before Henry arrived they put the finishing touches to an object that -was a monstrosity indeed. If the curious reader wishes to know what -this object, or “being,” or monstrosity, looked like, let him turn -to the picture of the fourth giant in his baby brother’s “handsomely -illustrated” “Jack the Giant-Killer.” The resemblance between that giant -and this “being” is striking. - -Yes; they had hit upon their vocation at last; and if they should remove -to the haunts of savages in the Polynesian islands, or in the unexplored -regions of Africa, and set up in business as idol-makers, their fame and -fortune would soon be an accomplished fact. - -But this story drags already; so let it be sufficient to add that the -“impostor,” as they fondly called it, was lovingly and secretly conveyed -to the lone house, and hidden away till it should be needed. - -Thus time passed with the plotters. They often had great difficulty in -keeping all their movements and plans a secret from Marmaduke; more than -once he came upon them in their journeys to and fro, and it was only by -using the greatest tact that they prevented him from following them to -the old building. - -Poor Marmaduke! he was at a loss to know why the boys should act in so -strange a manner. He would come upon them sometimes, seated, and talking -earnestly; but the moment they caught sight of him, all were silent. At -last he began to think that he had offended them in some way--how, he -could not guess. However, the time when he should be rudely awakened was -at hand. - -Henry Mortimer, the boy-lover of the sweet little blue-eyed heroine, -was somewhat surprised to receive through the post a very learned -dissertation on “Philosophical Ingenuity;” but two days afterwards -Will’s letter of explanation and invitation followed it, and then he was -all eagerness to be off, as he anticipated having a delightful visit -with his cousin and his aunt. But there were other reasons why he was -glad to go away from home for a few days, or even weeks. _His_ school, -also, had closed for the holidays; and consequently, he saw but little -of--(It must be tiresome to the reader to see the writer of this history -continually using circumlocution in speaking of this little girl, but -as there are private reasons why her name should not be made known, -he [the helpless reader] will have to make the best of it.) Moreover, -a handsome and clever youth, a first cousin of the little blue-eyed -heroine’s, was spending the holidays at her parents’, with her elder -brother; and Henry’s feverish imagination (poor boy, he was jealous as -ever) immediately conjectured that he and she would fall in love with -each other! To be sure they were first cousins; but Henry had latterly -taken to the bad habit of reading English novels, and so he let his -fears get the better of his judgment, and thought it only logical that -she should eventually shake him off, and marry the cousin. As if to -confirm his fears, he had seen her, the heroine who had given him the -glass ink-bottle, walking down the side-walk, accompanied by the stalwart -cousin. This had worked his jealous passions up to boiling heat, but -feeling his utter helplessness, he had affected to be unconcerned; and -now, to prove how little he cared, he would go away on a visit, and -stay--well, _perhaps_ he might stay two weeks. - -Preparations were immediately begun, but it was hard for Mr. and Mrs. -Mortimer to part with their son, if for only a short time. The “game on -foot” hinted at in the letter troubled the latter--the more so, as she -was aware of her son’s recklessness, and was firmly persuaded that her -young nephew was totally devoid of common sense. But, at last, when the -holidays were a week old, the redoubtable hero departed, with repeated -warnings to keep out of danger, and to be very, _very_ careful of -himself, ringing in his ears. - -The same day Will was delighted in two different ways. He received a -telegram, directed to _himself_. Delight number one. - -The telegram ran as follows:-- - - “Your cousin Henry will be there to-morrow morning; meet him. - - “M. MORTIMER.” - -Delight number two. - -Will hastened to inform his fellow-plotters of this good news, and joy -reigned among them all. - -The next morning came, and with it came Cousin Henry. Each one of the -heroes, except Marmaduke, was at the depot to welcome him; each one was -struck with his commanding appearance; each one thought what a beautiful -heroine he would make. Proudly, but very awkwardly, Will introduced them -to each other, and then proposed to his cousin that he should bind a -handkerchief loosely over his head, so that it should partially conceal -his features. - -“What for?” asked Henry, with surprise. “I haven’t the tooth-ache, nor -I’m not ashamed to be seen.” - -“Yes, but there’s a boy here not in our plot; and if he should happen to -see you, all would be spoiled,” Will pleaded. - -“We might meet him, any minute, Henry, for he’s always prowling round at -this time of day,” Stephen chimed in. - -Stephen and Henry looked each other full in the face: congenial spirits -met. - -“Well,” said Henry resignedly, “go ahead, and trick me out as you -please.” Then, a woe-begone look overspreading his face, he added: “There -is no one here to know me, so that it makes no difference how I am -trussed up.” - -Ah! his heart was with the loved ones at home, and he cared little what -these boys did with him. - -But “tricked out” and “trussed up!” Those words took well with the simple -village boys; they held their breath for admiration. - -Then the cleanest handkerchief (which was Henry’s own) that could -be found, was bound about his head, so as to flap over his mouth -unpleasantly, and wanton in the sultry July breeze. - -Needless precaution, for nothing was seen of Marmaduke. - -Weary as Henry must have been after his long journey, he was hurried away -to one of the boys’ retreats, in a retired quarter of Mr Lawrence’s -garden. At first the boys were quite reserved, for Henry had been -represented to them as a very extraordinary personage; but in the course -of half an hour they became as well acquainted with him as if they had -known him from the days of the plesiosaurus dolichodeirus. - -For a full hour they talked almost at random; narrating their late -adventures with Bob, touching gingerly upon Will’s last lamentable -blunder, and giving a minute, but bewildering and disjointed, account of -their darling scheme. - -Then, after Henry had received confused notions of various matters, the -party dispersed; and the poor boy was allowed to see his aunt and uncle, -wash, partake of some food, and snatch a wink of sleep. - -They had appointed to meet early in the afternoon, to discuss their plot -in all its bearings, and to have Henry compose the vexatious letter; but -he and Will spent a short but very pleasant time in each other’s company, -and when the hour came for them to repair to the rendezvous, the former -had grasped the boys’ idea, and mapped out his own course. - -To say that Henry was delighted with this plot, would be to do him gross -injustice--in fact, to speak out boldly, since yesterday the writer has -racked his brains in a vain endeavor to hit upon some single adjective -that would adequately describe the boy’s ecstasy. - - - - -_Chapter XXXIII._ - -“A LESSON IN FRENCH.” - - -“Here we are!” Steve joyously exclaimed, as the last one of the plotters -arrived at the rendezvous in Mr. Lawrence’s garden. “And now, then, let -us go to work.” - -“Are you perfectly sure this Marmaduke will believe the letter is -genuine, and fly to the rescue?” Henry asked dubiously. - -“He would believe anything, Henry,” Charles rejoined “And the more -romantic the letter is, the more he will believe it.” - -“Why,” said Steve, “I shouldn’t be surprised if he falls in love when he -meets you all tricked up--tricked _out_--as a heroine!” - -Henry smiled grimly, but said nothing. - -“Oh, no,” said George dogmatically. “Henry’s eyes are blue, and so are -Marmaduke’s; and you know--at least, I’ve often read--that people alike -in that respect seldom fall in love with each other.” - -Oh, how indignant Henry was! Who was this impertinent little boy, who had -opinions (and such opinions!) on all topics? - -“Are you in the habit of reading love-stories?” he asked curiously. - -“No,” said the Sage slowly, “I’ve never read many genuine love-stories; I -don’t care much for them; they’re not solid enough.” - -“You’ll see the day when you’ll care to read nothing else,” said Henry, -melodramatically. - -Perceiving that the plotters were looking at him intently, he said -hurriedly, for he did not wish these boys to guess his secret, “You -haven’t told me yet when the plot is to come off.” - -“We never settled that ourselves; but if to-morrow evening is pleasant, -let us go then,” said Will. - -“We have had so many unfortunate expeditions in the night that I think we -had better set some other time,” the Sage observed. - -“The evening is the time, of course;” said Henry decisively. “We can take -care of ourselves, I think, if we try. To-morrow forenoon I must disguise -myself and go and see this old house with some of you; and then, as we -are coming back, if the rest of you could come up with Marmaduke, I could -hide, and look on while he ‘finds’ the letter. Have you settled that -point yet?” - -“Yes,” said Charles, “we planned to fix the letter in a bottle, and fling -it into the river a few rods above him. The river, you know, flows past -the house; so that when he reads the letter he’ll think the prisoner -threw the concern into the river, and that it floated down. Marmaduke -will think that is romance itself.” - -“I understand,” Henry commented; “and when we write the letter we can say -something to that effect. Now, what do you say to mixing up a priest in -the plot?” - -“A priest?” they asked, at a loss to guess his intent. - -“Yes, a poor old priest, that found out the villain in his capturing -schemes, and had to be seized and brought along, or else made away with. - -“I--I don’t--see why,” Charles stammered. - -“Will tells me that Marmaduke is to suppose I’m the captive, and that I’m -to be dressed accordingly,” Henry said lazily. “Now, if you boys can’t -see what I mean, keep your eyes and ears open, and when the time comes, -there will be so much the more sport for you.” - -The plotters did not see what Henry was driving at; but, thinking it must -be an “improvement” that had suggested itself to him, they were content -to wait. - -“Now, we must all swear that none of us will laugh, no matter how droll -things may be,” Will observed. - -Henry could never be guilty of such a misdemeanor. He was a boy who could -do and say the most absurdly ridiculous things without the slightest -smile on his face; and the others had tolerable control over their facial -muscles. - -“Don’t be too hard on Marmaduke, Henry;” said Charles, still at a loss to -conjecture to what use the imaginary priest was to be put, and beginning -to fear that some great danger menaced hapless Marmaduke. - -“I will be careful,” Henry replied. - -“About the letter--let us write it,” Steve cried, impatiently. - -“I have the materials to write it in the rough,” said Henry. “To-night I -shall polish it, and write it off on French note paper, and to-morrow I -shall hand it over to you.” - -“Make the letter very strong,” Charles suggested. “The more extraordinary -and whimsical it is, the more poor deluded Marmaduke will be delighted. -Poor fellow, if it is hard to make it out, he will stammer over it till -his face and hands get damp with sweat.” - -“Doesn’t he understand French very well?” Henry asked. - -“None of us do,” Charles dolefully acknowledged. - -“Well, is he in the habit of wandering through the dictionary?” - -“I--don’t--know,” said Charles, wondering what Henry was driving at now. - -“Well, then, I will run the risk,” said the master-plotter, like the hero -he was. - -Not allowing the curious boys to ask any questions, he continued: “As -you don’t understand French very well, I must read the letter carefully -to you to-morrow, for it would be jolly fun if none of you could make it -out. Well, fire ahead, and I’ll write; but after I polish it, your letter -may be very different from the original draft.” - -With that he produced pencil and paper, and then slowly, like a -blood-thirsty author hatching his plot, a draught was made of the letter; -each particular, as it occurred to the boys, being set down at random. -When finished, it was, like Will’s letter, so incoherent that it would -give a person a headache to read it. But in their own room that night -Henry wrote and “polished,” whilst Will looked for words and phrases -in his dictionary. They worked long and carefully, and about midnight -the letter was transcribed for the last time; and with dizzy head and -heavy, blinking eyes, poor Henry tumbled into bed, saying, drowsily, “I -have portentous ap--apprehensions that by--by to-morrow night--I shall -need--need some--some Cayenne pepper mixture.” - -But he slept long and well, and felt himself again the next morning. - -We give the letter in French, just as Henry wrote it. This is not -done because of a morbid love of writing something in a foreign -language--which seems to be so strong in some people, whether they -understand it or not--but because of three very good reasons: First, -to show the length to which the boys went in carrying out their plot; -secondly, to give the good-natured reader an insight into Henry’s -character--for a man is best known by his writings; thirdly, because it -is a well-known fact that intelligent youths who are studying a foreign -language have an eager desire to read, or attempt to read, whatever they -can find in that language; and it is well to gratify such healthy desires. - -After holding forth in this strain, perhaps it will be as well to -observe, that the youth who expects to perfect himself in French by a -careful perusal of this letter will be most bitterly deceived. - -One word more: Henry, and Henry only, is responsible for this letter, -therefore all the praise must be given to him. But is it reasonable to -suppose that the French Academy will survive the publication of this -letter? - -The envelope enclosing the letter bore the following superscription: - -“A celui qui trouvera: Lisez le contenu de cette lettre sans délai!” - -“To the finder: Read the contents of this letter without delay!” as Henry -read it to the boys. - -That is good; that is orthodox. - -The letter ran as follows: - - O lecteur, je suis prisonnière! Un méchant homme m’a prise, et - m’a emportée de mon pays. Je suis la fille d’un des seigneurs - de la France, le Duc de la Chaloupe en Poitou. Un des ennemis - de mon père--quoiqu’il soit le meilleur homme du monde, il ne - laisse pas d’avoir ses adversaires, mais c’est parce qu’il est - favori de notre empereur puissant, Napoléon trois--je répète, - un de ses ennemis, un faquin impitoyable--un _misérable_--un - DÉMON, considéra tous les moyens de le perdre. - - Enfin, voyant qu’il n’a pas d’autre moyen de blesser mon papa, - ce monstre résout de lui dérober sa fille. Il ourdit finement - sa trame, et conspire à dresser des embûches pour m’attraper. - Il fait emplette d’un yacht à vapeur, un vaisseau bon voilier, - et il l’équipe. Puis il ancre dans une petite crique, près du - château de mon père. Ne songeant pas au danger, mon précepteur - et moi nous sortons pour voir ce vaisseau étranger; et en nous - promenant le long du rivage le capitaine nous prie d’aller - à bord, pour en faire le tour. Nous le font; mais à peine - sommes-nous montés sur la tillée, qu’on nous saisit et nous - enferme dans deux petites cabines! O perfide! il s’empare - facilement de sa prise! Et moi! Depuis ce moment j’ai éprouvé - beaucoup de malheurs. - - Ses drôles ingambes se mettent en train; l’équipage lève - tout de suite l’ancre; le pompier vole à sa pompe à feu; les - matelots déferlent les voiles; bientôt le yacht vogue; tout à - l’heure il marche à pleines voiles. La fenêtre treillissée de - ma cabine, ou prison, donne sur la demeure de mes ancêtres, et - je vois courir ça et là nos serviteurs, avec des cris aigres - de chagrin et d’horreur. Trop tard! le maroufle s’évade avec - sa captive! Oh, mon cher père et ma chère mère! Qu’êtes-vous - devenus! - - Le yacht a marché quelques heures quand il entre un homme dans - ma cabine, suivi de mon précepteur, le bon prêtre. Je reconnais - Bélître Scélérat, l’ennemi de mon papa! C’est lui qui m’a - captivée. “Tranquillisez-vous,” me dit-il; “je ne vous ferai - pas de mal. Je suis l’ennemi de votre père le duc, mais je ne - suis point votre ennemi. J’en userai bien avec vous, tant que - vous n’essaierez pas de vous échapper. Ce prêtre sera votre - instituteur comme a l’ordinaire; et vous pouvez y être aussi - heureuse que si vous étiez chez vos parents.” Je le prie de - me rendre, mais j’ai beau supplier. Le prêtre, à son tour, - raisonne avec lui, mais le monstre hausse les épaules et il est - sourd à nos prières. - - Après un voyage de long cours nous abordons en - Amérique--c’est-à-dire, je crois que c’est ce pays. Un complice - de mon capteur l’aide a transporter le prêtre et moi dans - le sein du pays, où l’on a préparé une prison pour nous. Je - fus captivée le cinq mai; c’est maintenant le dix juillet. - Il y a donc soixante-six jours que je n’ai vu mes parents! - J’ai passé le temps dans solitude et tristesse. Le bon prêtre - m’encourage, mais il est le seul sur qui je puisse compter. Ah! - je deviendrai folle si personne ne vient me secourir. - - Il semble que je sois près d’un chemin de fer, parce que - j’entends quelquefois le hennissement du cheval de fer. La - prison dans laquelle je me trouve couronne la cime d’une - petite colline, auprès laquelle il serpente un beau courant. - Quant à la prison, elle est fortifiée en forteresse; et le - prêtre et moi nous sommes gardés comme des bêtes sauvages par - les guichetiers durs. Le voisinage est la solitude même. Pour - surcroît de malheur, la place est l’abord de revenants! J’avais - coutume chez moi de rire de l’idée de spectres, mais j’ai vu - dans cette prison une infinité d’affreuses apparitions, de - lutins ailés. - - Bélître Scélérat nous traite passablement, c’est-à-dire, il - ne nous menace pas. Il ne nous voit pas souvent, comme il - va partout le pays, pour conférer avec ses agents, ou bien - il court la mer en forban. Ses geôliers, pourtant, ont soin - de nous, et ils nous gardent rigoureusement. Je n’ai jamais - été hors de l’enclos, et toutes les fois que j’y vais pour - aspirer de l’air frais les geôliers montent la garde pour me - surveiller. Bélître Scélérat dit qu’il m’affranchira aussitôt - que mon papa lui paiera une rançon énorme; mais il ajoute qu’il - compte me tenir prisonnière long-temps, pour que mon papa paie - la rançon promptement. - - J’ai écrit cette lettre en secret, et j’ai dessein de la mettre - en sûreté dans une bouteille. Puis j’essaierai de la jeter - dans le ruisseau, dans l’espérance que quelqu’un la trouvera. - Lecteur, ayez pitié de moi! Venez à mes secours, ou c’est fait - de moi! Je vis en espoir d’être sauvée. Suivez le cours dans - lequel vous trouvez cette lettre, et vous arriverez à la maison - qui est ma prison. Si vous ne pourrez me délivrer, envoyez ma - lettre au Duc de la Chaloupe, et il viendra avec une armée pour - me sauver. Hélas! peut-être mon illustre père est-il mort! - - Si le lecteur est à même de me sauver qu’il se dépêche car - Bélître Scélérat ne sera pas à la maison cette semaine, et les - gardes sont plus poltrons que braves. Ainsi mon élargissement - se fera aisément! Mon père le duc récompensera qui que ce soit - qui me sauve, j’en suis sûre. Peut-être sa majesté l’empereur - desire-t-il encore un général. Voulez-vous être ce personage - honoré? Mon père le duc est un de ses conseillers:--le sage - entend à demi-mot! - - J’écris mon placet en français, parce que je n’entends bien - aucun autre langage; mais si le découvreur n’est pas en état - de le prouver,--c’est-à-dire, si je suis en Amérique, où l’on - ne parle point français, il ne faudra pas qu’il la détruise. - Il pourra trouver aux environs quelqu’un qui sait le français, - car ma langue incomparable est sue par toutes les parties de la - terre. - - J’attends ma liberté. Venez avec des hommes braves, et les - projets de mon persécuteur seront renversés. Hâtez vous. - - SAUTERELLE HIRONDELLE DE LA CHALOUPE. - -This is the letter as Henry wrote it. Lest the reader should not be able -to make out this “langue incomparable” as rendered by him, we give the -translation which he gave to his admiring fellow-plotters next morning. - - Oh reader, I am a prisoner! A wicked man has captured me and - taken me away from my country. I am the daughter of one of the - lords of France, the Duke de la Chaloupe, in Poitou. An enemy - of my father--although he is the best man in the world he has - his enemies, nevertheless, but it is because he is a favorite - of our mighty emperor, Napoleon the Third--I repeat, an enemy - of his, a pitiless scoundrel--a _wretch_--a DEMON, cast about - to hit upon some plot to ruin him. - - Seeing that he had no other means of harming my father, this - monster resolved to rob him of his daughter. He hatched his - plot artfully, and conspired to lay an ambush to entrap me. He - bought a steam yacht, a fast sailer, and manned and equipped - it. Then he anchored in a little cove, near my father’s castle. - Little dreaming of danger, my tutor and I went to see this - strange ship, and while we were walking along the shore, the - captain invited us to go on board, to examine it. We did so; - but we had scarcely got on the main deck when we were seized - and shut up in two little cabins! O treacherous man! how - easily he got possession of his victim! And I? From that time I - have experienced many misfortunes. - - His agile knaves sprang to their work; the crew weighed anchor - immediately; the engine-driver flew to his engine; the sailors - unfurled the sails; soon the yacht was under way; presently she - sailed away under full sail. The grated window of my cabin, or - prison, looked upon the home of my ancestors, and I saw our - retainers running to and fro, with shrill cries of grief and - horror. Too late! The villain escapes with his captive! Oh, my - dear father and mother! What has become of you! - - The yacht had sailed a few hours when a man entered my cabin, - followed by my tutor, the good priest. I recognized Bélître - Scélérat, the enemy of my father! It was he who had captured - me. “Compose yourself,” said he, “I will do you no harm. I am - the enemy of your father, the duke, but I am not your enemy. I - will treat you well, so long as you do not attempt to escape. - The priest will be your tutor the same as before; and you may - be as happy here as if you were with your parents.” I implored - him to return me, but I implored in vain. The priest, in his - turn, reasoned with him, but the monster shrugged his shoulders - and was deaf to our entreaties. - - After a long voyage we landed in America--at least, I believed - it was that country. An accomplice of my captor assisted him to - convey the priest and me into the heart of the country, where a - prison had been prepared for us. I was captured May fifth, and - it is now July tenth. Sixty-six days, therefore, have passed - since I saw my parents! I have spent the time in solitude and - sadness. The good priest encourages me, but he is the only one - on whom I can rely. Ah! I shall go mad if no one comes to help - me. - - It seems that I am near a railroad, because I often hear the - neigh of the iron horse. The prison in which I find myself - crowns the top of a low hillock, past which winds a fine - stream. As for the prison, it is fortified equal to a fortress; - and the priest and I are guarded like wild beasts by the - remorseless turnkeys. The neighborhood is solitude itself. For - greater misfortune, the place is the resort of ghosts! At home - I used to laugh at the idea of ghosts, but I have seen a great - number of hideous apparitions, of winged hobgoblins, in this - prison. - - Bélître Scélérât treats us tolerably, that is to say, he does - not threaten us. We do not see him often, as he goes all over - the country, to confer with his agents, or else he cruises as a - pirate. His jailers, however, take care of us, and they guard - us rigorously. I have never gone out of the enclosure, and - whenever I go there to breathe the fresh air, the jailers mount - guard to watch. Bélître Scélérât says that he will set me free - as soon as my papa pays him an enormous ransom, but he adds - that he intends to keep me a prisoner a long time, so that my - papa shall pay the ransom promptly. - - I have written this letter in secret, and I intend to secure it - in a bottle. Then I shall try to throw it into the stream, in - hopes that some one may find it. Reader, have pity on me! Come - and help me, or it is all over with me! I live in hope of being - saved. Follow the stream in which you find this letter, and - you will arrive at the house which is my prison. If you cannot - release me, send my letter to the Duke de la Chaloupe, and he - will come with an army to save me. Alas! perhaps my illustrious - father is dead! - - If the reader is in a position to save me, let him make haste, - for Bélître Scélérât will not be at home this week, and the - watchmen are more cowardly than brave. Thus my release will - come about easily! My poor father will reward whoever saves - me, I am sure. Perhaps his majesty the emperor might wish one - more general. Should you like to be that honored person? My - father, the duke, is a counsellor of his:--a word to the wise - is sufficient. - - I write my petition in French, because I do not understand any - other language well; but if the finder is not able to make it - out--that is to say, if I am in America, where French is not - spoken--he need not destroy it. He will find some one in his - neighborhood who knows it, for my incomparable language is - known throughout the world. - - I am waiting for my freedom. Come with brave men, and the - schemes of my persecutor will be overset! Hasten! - - SAUTERELLE HIRONDELLE DE LA CHALOUPE. - -If Henry had been an authorized translator, he would have exerted himself -and made the translation entirely different from the original; as he was -only a school-boy, he gave a close, but not excellent, rendering of it; -and by employing the past tense instead of the present, all sublimity was -lost. In fact, like everything else translated into _English_, it did not -equal the original. - -In the whole of this letter not a single reference is made to the beings -of Mythology, to the state of affairs in France, to the goblins of the -Hartz Mountains, to Macaulay’s New Zealander, nor to our own Pilgrim -Fathers! This neglect is intolerable; but remembering that Henry was only -a boy, we must judge him with leniency, and give him credit for writing -in a straightforward and business-like style. - -The boys listened with rapt attention while Henry read this letter. To -them, it was grand, sublime, awful; and from that moment Henry was looked -on as a superior being, as far above ordinary mortals as an average -American citizen is above any “crowned head” in Europe. - -Their admiration was graciously acknowledged by Henry. But he made -several innovations, some of which took the embryo villains by surprise. -In their wildest dreams they had never soared so high as to think of -giving the imprisoned one a title--and Henry had made her a duke’s -heiress! Ah! they were not so well acquainted with the ways of the world -and the laws of romance as Henry. - -But perhaps what pleased the plotters more than anything was the liberal -use made of notes of exclamation. Charles counted them carefully, and -reported their number to the gaping boys. The more the better, in this -case, at all events, thought Steve. Poor innocent! he did not know that -villainy and notes of exclamation go hand in hand. - - - - -_Chapter XXXIV._ - -HENRY TAKES HIS BEARINGS.--A STAMPEDE. - - -“I must have a copy of that letter;” Charles declared, emphatically. - -“Yes; as a lesson in French, it’s worth from twenty to thirty of Mr. -Meadows’,” Stephen chimed in. - -He, however, had no great desire to obtain a copy and buzz over it. -(Steve always buzzed when he “studied.”) - -“I don’t doubt that Marmaduke will believe in it,” Henry said, with -pardonable conceit in his own production; “but the question is, will he -act on it? I know if I should come upon such a petition, I should let -somebody else do the rescuing, and fly the other way as if I were pursued -by--” - -“A demon!” Steve interposed, grinning foolishly. - -“No,” continued Henry, “by worse than a demon--by an _algebra_!” - -Stephen hated the study of algebra--hated it with deadly hatred; hence he -smiled in sympathy. - -“Yes,” Charles commented, “most boys would be apt to run away; but -Marmaduke isn’t like most boys.” - -“Henry, there is one point I don’t quite understand,” George observed. -“Why do you say in the letter, ‘if you cannot rescue me, send this letter -to my father’? Suppose that Marmaduke should take it into his head to -send it! Then--then--” - -“Well, George, I put that in to make the letter seem less like a fable. -Don’t you know that a person in trouble would naturally say or write -something to that effect; and besides, right under that I wrote, ‘perhaps -my father is dead.’ Therefore, he will hardly send the appeal off to -France; but if he speaks of it, use your wits and persuade him to hurry -to the rescue.” - -The plotters held their breath for admiration, and their honor for Henry -increased. To them he was a wiser and greater being than any of the grave -heroes who figured in their dog’s-eared, mutilated histories--wiser than -the great Solon--deeper than the emissaries of Mephistopheles--more -learned than--than--but here their well of eloquence ran dry, and they -could not express themselves further. - -Will was quite happy now; his cousin had come; the plot was well under -way; the genius who was to direct it was admired, honored, reverenced. It -was glory enough for him to have such a phenomenon for a near relative. - -But George was bold enough to point out another irregularity. Said he: -“Look here, Henry, we didn’t give any account of the journey from the -coast to the prison! Marmaduke is very particular to have little things -explained; and that is passed by.” - -“George, don’t be foolish;” Will returned angrily. “Henry couldn’t -explain everything; and the letter is long enough as it is.” - -“Of course; no one can improve on it;” Charles declared. - -“Leave that to Marmaduke,” said Steve. “His imagination will soon find -the ways and means.” - -“Yes,” chimed in Charles, “his imagination will supply all defects--but -there are none. The letter is perfect perfection.” - -“That about ‘the general’ is a happy thought,” Stephen remarked. -“Marmaduke will snatch at that like a hungry hawk.” - -“Yes, I changed your draft a good deal, and added new points,” Henry -observed. “But it is greatly improved by them, I think,” he added -complacently. - -Alas! Henry was beginning to have a very good opinion of himself. Two -days before he was not aware that he was so clever. - -But the Sage, actuated by--what? seemed determined to criticize the -letter still further. “Henry,” said he, poring over the letter with -knitted brows, “Henry, near the end you have written, ‘if the reader is -not able to make this out,’ and so on. Henry,” smiling pleasantly, “I -didn’t know you were an Irishman before, but that sounds like it!” - -Henry was about to reply, but Charles took up the defence, saying: -“George, give me that letter; you do nothing but find fault with it. -Don’t you see that Marmaduke will take that passage as a piece of refined -French na--nave--_knavery_! Botheration! You know the word I mean, Henry.” - -“Naïveté?” Henry suggested. - -“Yes, that’s it. Marmaduke will take it for na-a-a-a--. Yes; for that;” -he concluded, gulping down a sob, and becoming somewhat flushed and -perturbed. - -“Charley, listen to a little sound advice,” Henry said, with the air of -a great philosopher. “In the first place, that isn’t the right word in -the right place. Second place, never speak in a foreign language, nor -whisper even a syllable of it, till you know it, and not then, unless you -are learning it, or unless it is necessary. Some people who can write -their address in French strike out in print in the village ‘Weekly’ with -half-a-dozen meaningless words, that they themselves don’t understand. -But the printer, who knows even _less_, and cares for no one’s feelings, -always makes an interesting muddle of it all. So, Charley, take warning -and steer clear of such nonsense. English is the best, as long as you are -where it is spoken.” - -All looked admiringly at the oracle, Charley by no means angry at being -thus reproved. - -“How did you manage to get the pretty French names?” Jim asked, -innocently enough. - -Will scowled at the boy, but Henry answered readily: “They are not real -_names_, Jim; only _common nouns_. I relied on Marmaduke’s ignorance -of French to bring in some rather uncommon words instead of names. -Besides, I didn’t know of any names long enough, and grand enough, and -sonorous enough, to suit the occasion; but still, some of these words -may be family names for all I know or care. First name, _Sauterelle_, -a grasshopper; second name, _Hirondelle_, a swallow; Patronymic, _de -la Chaloupe_, of the longboat. Now _Bélître Scélérat_ really means -_Atrocious Scoundrel_; but _Scheming Scoundrel_ sounds better in -English--it has a true poetic ring. Of course, boys, when he finds the -letter and you help him to make it out, you will read the words as they -are in the letter, not as I have explained them.” - -The plotters’ admiration knew no bounds. The substitution of _nouns_ for -_names_ was, in their eyes, the very acme of wit; and Henry was no longer -an ordinary hero, but a veritable demi-god. - -How learned this boy must be, and how ignorant they must seem to him! In -fact, this so worked on the feelings of one boy (it is immaterial which -one, gentle reader,--no, we _defy_ you to guess which boy it was) that, -in order to demonstrate _he_, at least, knew the difference between nouns -and names, he laughed so hard, so monotonously, and so patiently, that -long-headed Henry perceived the cause, and was, very rightly, disgusted. - -“Well, boys,” said Henry, “I haven’t seen the prison-house yet, and if -you will bundle me up in your disguises, we’ll set out for it, ‘The -Wigwam of the Seven Sleepers,’ as George says Stephen calls it, and -arrange everything as it should be and is to be.” - -At this time they were in Mr. Lawrence’s garden. Will ran to the house -and soon came back with a headgear which Charles compared to a Russian -Jew’s turban, but Henry said it looked like a knight-errant’s sun-bonnet. -Then Steve, not wishing to be outdone, said it was one of Father Time’s -cast-off nightcaps. Then, having fitted it, whatever it may have been, -to Henry’s head, and pinned it fast to his coat collar,--he had first -changed coats with George, and turned his neck-tie wrong side out,--the -plotters declared that he was admirably disguised, and they set forward -in high spirits. However well Henry might plot, they were not adepts in -the art of disguising; and this strange garb, far from concealing Henry’s -features, served only to attract the attention of passers-by. - -But they had not gone far when Henry pulled his Scotch cap out of his -pocket and put it forcibly on his head. Then Charles mildly suggested -that if a handkerchief were tied so as to pass over one eye, Henry might -stroll through the streets of his native city without danger of being -recognized. - -“Well,” Henry said, reluctantly, “if you can tie it to give me the -appearance of a wounded soldier, go ahead; but if it makes me look like -an old woman sick with the neuralgia, I’ll--I’ll--no, you mus’n’t.” - -A handkerchief had no sooner been tied over Henry’s eye so as to suit -all concerned, than it occurred to Stephen that one amendment more was -needful to make the disguise complete. - -“Your ears are peculiar, Henry,” he said, “and very pretty. Now, -Marmaduke always notices people’s ears,--at least, I _guess_ he does,--so -let me pull the flaps of the sun-bonnet clear over them.” - -But good-natured Henry was only human,--or perhaps if his ears were so -pretty, and somebody else had said they were, he did not wish to hide -them,--and now he turned his one blazing eye full upon the boy, and said, -almost fiercely: “Stephen, let me alone! I can barely manage to work my -way along the road, as it is! Don’t you know, Steve,” he added mildly, -“that it is hard enough for a fellow to get along in this world with all -his five senses in full play?” - -“It is too bad for Henry to go all the way there and back twice in one -day,” Charles kindly observed. “Couldn’t we manage it for him to go only -once, say in the afternoon, and then wait till Marmaduke and the rest -come on?” - -“No; I want to go now, with you all;” Henry said, firmly. “Suppose -that I should take a pailful of supper with me, and not go till the -afternoon--what if Marmaduke shouldn’t come, after all! Something might -happen, you know, that he could not or would not come; and then,” putting -on a comical smile, “I should have to stay in that dreadful haunted house -for who knows how long?” - -“Yes, it is better for Henry to get familiar with the old ruin while we -are with him--I mean, it is better for us to go with him,” Will said. -“Then to-night, about half an hour before Marmaduke and the rest of us -start, he and Stephen will leave in advance of us, with a bundle of -disguises and lanterns; so that when we, the rescuers, arrive, the place -will be lighted and the captive clothed properly.” - -“And the priest shaved,” Steve chimed in. - -“Exactly,” Henry commented. “And, Steve, I can meanwhile drill you to act -the part of a priest, shaved or not shaved. Don’t fret about the extra -travelling, boys,” he added; “for if my boots dilapidate while I’m here, -I’ll add them to the pile of rubbish in ‘Nobody’s House,’ and patronize -one of your shoemakers.” - -In due time the plotters arrived before the house. It was no longer the -grim wreck described to the reader at the time the boys first visited it. -No; thanks to their industry and ingenuity it was in much better repair; -and, yes, it looked very much like--like a prison?--no! very much like a -gigantic hen-coup. - -“Why,” Henry cried in pleased surprise, “I wasn’t so far out of the way -after all when I ventured to write about its being fortified equal to a -fortress! But say, boys, where did you get the iron bars for the windows?” - -“Irons!” Charles echoed, in ecstasy. “If _you_ take ’em for iron bars, -Marmaduke certainly will! No, Henry; no iron there; nothing but painted -laths nailed on. We had two good reasons for putting on those laths; -first, because in nailing up a crack every pane of glass left shivered -itself all to flinders, and therefore the empty window-frames had to be -hidden; and next, we put them there to make the place look like a grated -prison.” - -“And they do;” declared Henry, stripping off his “disguise” and heaving a -sigh of relief. - -“Yes, and they made _me_ nail on all their laths,” said Stephen, “because -I was foolish enough to say I could straddle a window-sill and whittle -out a steamboat, or do anything else. You see that top window to the -right?--Well, I was sitting there, struggling to drive an obstinate nail, -when suddenly I pitched head over heels down to the ground!” - -“Hurt yourself?” Henry inquired. - -“No-o-o; but their hammer disappeared and lost itself ever since!” Steve -chuckled. - -“Stephen wouldn’t consider that he was in a post of honor,” Charles -observed, “and when the hammer could not be found, he said, ‘serves you -right.’” - -“I guess _you_ would have said it, too, if _you_ had had _your_ best -coat-pocket and flap torn off on a nail that YOU pretended to drive!” -Stephen wrathfully retorted. - -“What? Did you have an encounter with a nail in your way down?” Henry -inquired. - -“I did.” - -“Steve didn’t tell us about all those losses,” Charles commented; “but he -said he was going home, and he went.” - -“It’s the first I’ve heard about the coat-pocket,” the Sage observed. - -“Hurrah! where did you make the acquaintance of this awful door!” Henry -exclaimed. “It--it looks like the door of a castle in the air.” - -“No, Henry, it’s too strong for that,” Will corrected. “That door used -to be our raft; but we had to make a door, and there was nothing else to -make it of; so we hauled it up stream, pounced on it, and tore it all to -pieces.” - -This was too true. The gallant old raft, which had served so useful a -purpose as a source of amusement, had been sacrificed by the remorseless -plotters to fill up the gap in the front doorway. But they, in their -eagerness to further their daring scheme, would not have hesitated to -destroy anything to which they could lay claim. - -“It was too bad to waste a good raft on this old hen-house,” Henry -observed. - -“Oh, a prison without a door would be rather too much for even -Marmaduke;” Will replied. “And the timbers of the raft are here yet, and -we can build it over again next week.” - -“Henry,” said Stephen, who had quite recovered his equilibrium, “it is in -front of this door that the sentries do the patrolling, and ground their -muskets, and----and----what else do sentries do, George?” - -“Will,” said Henry, grimly, as his eyes roved over the yard, or orchard, -“I guess it would need several pretty smart and nimble sentries to -prevent any one from escaping from _this_ ‘inclosure.’” - -Then they opened the door and passed in. By the way, there was something -very remarkable about that door--so remarkable, in fact, that the writer, -who has had great experience in the building of playhouses (don’t look -for this word in a dictionary, O foreigner, but ask any little boy to -interpret it for you,) here pauses to note it. Though made by boys, it -not only played smoothly on its hinges, but even entered the door-case, -and admitted of being fastened! - -“It must have cost you fellows a good deal to fit up this old hulk,” -Henry remarked, as the boys showed him proudly through the house. - -“Cost!” Stephen exclaimed warmly. “I should think it did cost! Besides -that hammer that I lost, an old worn-out axe perished somewhere around -here, after Will had hewed a pair of new boots all to pieces while -dressing the new door. Among the five of us, we’ve worn out two suits of -clothes, and made three hats ashamed of themselves, just since we started -to tinker up this prison house. I’ve used all the salve and plaster in -our house, and the day before you came I got another cut. That reminds -me, Henry, when Will hewed his new boots he cut his big toe nearly clean -off--come here, and I’ll show you the bloody mark.” - -“Never mind,” said Henry. “I’ve just noticed, Steve, that the doors and -walls and windows are thick with bloody gore.” - -“Well, it’s all ours,” Stephen declared. “We’ve broken a band-box full -of old tools and things, and destroyed all our jack-knives. We have used -heaps of nails, and--and--all sorts of things. Henry, we have suffered!” - -Really, in heroism and fortitude these boys equalled the ancient -Spartans; for they would have encountered any danger, undergone any -hardship, to secure the success of their plot. Yes, they toiled as if -they had a better cause in view. - -The “Imposter” was next unearthed. It excited Henry’s liveliest -admiration; and Steve said, as they deposited it in its hiding-place, -“we’ll make it hot for you to-night, you old Atrocious Scoundrel, you!” - -“Why, this is Mr. Atrocious Scoundrel, isn’t he, boys?” Henry said, -beaming with delight. - -“Of course he is,” the rest answered promptly. - -But hold! Did not the letter state that this personage was away from -home, that is from the prison? Surely, here was an oversight! Here was a -quicksand! In good truth, the plot was too much for those boys to manage, -and it had turned their brain. - -_It had turned their brain._ Mark that, gentle reader, for it may help -you to understand what is to follow shortly. - -A guilty look was on Jim’s face whilst the boys spoke thus, but it -escaped their notice. No, they did not suspect that there was treachery -in the camp--least of all, that Jim was the traitor. - -Then Henry donned his various “disguises,” and the little band of little -plotters set out for the village. But Henry had not taken fifteen steps -when he stumbled headlong over a submerged wheel-barrow (submerged in -dense grass and rank weeds, gentle reader) and fell heavily. - -“What the mischief!” he ejaculated. “Is this a demoralized sentinel, or a -trap set by the hobgoblins?” - -“It’s a wheel-barrow, Henry,” Will explained, “that belongs to this -place.” - -“Oh it _belongs_ here, does it?” Henry asked, struggling to rise. - -“Yes, it’s a _fixture_, Henry, a _fixture_;” piped up Steve, who had -stumbled upon this word in a time-worn document a few days before. - -Then Henry essayed to trundle it out of the way; but its wheel howled so -piteously for grease that he desisted, saying in disgust, “Why this is as -rusty and as worthless as an heir-loom.” - -“Oh, we mostly turn it upside down and straighten nails on it,” Steve -said, deprecatingly. - -“Now,” said Henry, as they strode on, “when you rescuers come, I shall -be just behind the front door, and Stephen will be in another room or -up-stairs.” - -“All right,” replied one of them. - -As they were proceeding towards home, Will suddenly espied Marmaduke -walking leisurely up the river. Although they had prepared for such -a contingency they did not expect it. Did they put faith in their -“disguise,” and advance calmly to meet him? Not for one moment! Instantly -the greatest consternation prevailed, and they stopped and stared at each -other in blank hopelessness. - -“Oh, this is awful!” groaned Charles. “Our--plot--” - -“Is ruined!” Steve gasped. - -“O dear!” sighed Will. “Henry, do--do you suppose--” - -Marmaduke continued to advance, and presently he hailed them. - -Then Will lost all control of himself, and cried wildly: “Oh, Henry, we -must run for it!” - -“Yes, Henry; unblind your eye, and _run_!” Steve counselled. - -The Sage, who had just hit upon a stratagem to get out of the difficulty, -endeavored to restore order. But he was too late, as usual; and so, -seeing that the boys were bent on flight, he had sufficient presence of -mind to shout: “Split, boys, split; so that when Marma--” - -But Henry had already torn off the handkerchief, and he and the other -demoralized plotters were flying as though pursued by a regiment of -light-armed Bélître Scélérats. - -When Will and his relative gained the security of their own chamber, the -latter said frankly: “Well, there is a lot of nice fellows here, and I -like them well.” - -“Yes,” said Will, “but you haven’t seen Marmaduke yet!” - -“Will, I never ran away from anybody before--and this fellow is only a -harmless and innocent schoolboy!” - - - - -_Chapter XXXV._ - -MARMADUKE GRASPS THE SITUATION. - - -Early in the afternoon, according to agreement, the boys betook -themselves to the banks of the stream. Here Marmaduke was to be -entrapped. Henry, with his peculiar “disguises” still about him was -securely hidden in a tree, from which he would be able to see and hear -the whole performance. - -Charles had spent the noon in making himself tolerably familiar with -the letter, which he now had in a bottle in his pocket. The others were -gathered round the tree which was Henry’s hiding-place. Stephen was not -with them, he having gone to look for the victim and induce him to come -to the river. - -Just as the plotters were beginning to fear that Marmaduke would not -come, after all, he and Stephen appeared, striding along towards them. -They were then all excitement, knowing that if their plot succeeded it -would be now or never. Charles quietly moved a few rods farther up the -river, and concealed himself behind a convenient bush. - -At this the enraptured reader is heard to mutter that along that -extraordinary river all the bushes seem to grow just where they will be -most convenient. - -“Hello, Marmaduke! how are you?” Will asked, in friendly tones. - -“Hello, then! Boys, I’m vexed; how is it that you shun me, and run away -like shooting stars whenever you see me?” - -“Well, old fellow, let us make up friends, and have no more hard -feelings,” Stephen said cheerfully. - -Marmaduke did not know why there should ever have been any “hard -feelings;” but, not wishing to press the matter, he heaved a sigh of -relief, heartily said “all right,” and sat down among them. - -Then they were at a loss to know what to talk about. But finally Will hit -upon the topic of mowing-machines, and then each one was called upon to -give his views. Then the conversation flagged, and for full five minutes -there was silence, during which Marmaduke tranquilly pared his nails, -while the plotters looked at each other in growing uneasiness. Where -could Charley be? Why didn’t he fling the bottled letter into the river? - -“Boys, what are your plans for the holidays?” Marmaduke suddenly -inquired. - -At that instant a faint splash, the bottle striking the water, was heard -by Jim. - -“There it is!” he blurted out. - -The plotters knew what he meant, though the dupe certainly did not. -Nevertheless, it seemed to them that such blunders must be put down; and -accordingly they bent their brows, and cast such annihilating glances at -the offender that he quailed, and felt decidedly “chilly.” - -Will arose and said, “Let us stroll up a little way.” - -All cheerfully agreed to this proposal, though Marmaduke probably -thought that by “stroll” Will meant a tramp of perhaps three or four -miles. They had taken only a few steps when all except Marmaduke saw the -bottle floating lazily along. The question was, how should they draw his -attention to it without arousing suspicion? - -Stephen was equal to the emergency. Stooping, he picked up a smooth -stone, gave it a legerdemain fling, and it shot forward, performing all -sorts of whimsical gyrations. As Stephen had foreseen, all the boys, -Marmaduke included, observed every movement of the stone from the instant -it left his hand. Then he repeated his trick with a second stone, and lo! -the second stone fetched up very close to the bottle! In order to keep up -appearances and carry out the deceit, he was about to cut a geometrical -curve with still another stone, when Marmaduke exclaimed, “Boys, what is -that floating down stream! It looks like a bottle.” - -Crafty Stephen! His ruse was entirely successful. - -“It _is_ a bottle!” Jim cried, in _intense_ excitement. “A bottle! A -floating bottle! Isn’t that very strange, boys?” - -“Yes, it’s rather curious, but it isn’t a natural phenomenon, so don’t -make so much stir about it,” Will said, fearing that Jim might overdo the -matter. “I’ll strip off my clothes and swim after it, boys, unless some -of you would like to take a plunge into the water.” - -“Let us go out on our raft; that would be the proper way to get it!” -declared ceremonious Marmaduke, not knowing that the raft had been turned -to better account. “Come; the raft isn’t much farther up; let us get it -out, and we can soon overtake the bottle.” - -Ah, plotters! your troubles were beginning already! - -“Pshaw!” cried Stephen, in seeming disgust. “It would be a loss of -time to go up stream to sail after a wayfaring bottle like that. But -we must get it, of course.----Now, hello, who is this fellow whistling -and paddling on a home-made punt across over from the other shore down -towards us? ’Pon my word, it’s Charley, without his clothes on! No; -they’re strapped over his shoulders. Well, this is funnier than Jim’s -wonderful bottle!” - -Stephen’s astonishment was not feigned, for the boys had not planned -how Charles was to rejoin them after setting the bottle afloat, and his -sudden appearance in this guise was a great surprise to them all. - -On Marmaduke’s arrival, Charles had paddled across the river on a stout -plank, launching the bottled letter on his way, and drifted down by the -opposite bank till abreast of the boys. Then, having turned his rude -canoe, he struck out for them boldly; and the inference was that the boy, -being on the right bank of the river and seeing his comrades on the left -bank, had hit upon this semi-savage means to join them. Thus Marmaduke -never suspected that there was any connection between Charley and the -floating bottle. - -But Jim felt insulted at Stephen’s last words, and he muttered sullenly: -“_’Taint_ my bottle! _I_ never put it there!” - -“You look like an alligator, Charley;” Marmaduke hallooed. “Where do you -come from?” - -“Oh, I’ve been prowling around,” Charles shouted back. - -“There’s an old bottle about opposite us,” Stephen yelled; “heave ahead -and bring it here; we want to see what it means.” - -“The raft would be the best to get it,” Marmaduke murmured. - -Ah! if he could have known that the plank bestridden by Charley was the -foundation timber of their late raft! - -“You see that our plot is working!” Stephen mumbled in the Sage’s ear. -“He will believe it all!” - -Charles directed his barge to the mysterious bottle, seized it, and then -worked his way to his companions on the bank. While he unstrapped and -huddled on his clothes the bottle was passed from one to another. - -Marmaduke, who had hitherto taken only a languid interest in the matter, -exclaimed feverishly, on seeing that the bottle held a paper, “Give it to -me! It’s mine, because I saw it first!” - -In a trice he had the paper out, and was endeavoring to make out -its contents. As these have already been given, it would be only a -wanton waste of time and foolscap for the reader to reperuse them with -Marmaduke. It might afford a hard-hearted reader considerable amusement -to hear his absurd interpretations, but it is both unwise and immoral -to laugh at the mistakes and the ignorance of others. It is sufficient, -therefore, to say that the great difference between Henry’s style and the -style of teacher Meadows’ Method bewildered the young student. - -Charles waited impatiently to read for him, while the rest moved down -the river and took up their stand under the old tree in which Henry was -ensconced. - -Marmaduke and Charles soon followed, and presently the latter ventured to -say, “Perhaps I could help you, Marmaduke.” - -“No you couldn’t; it’s French, and I understand French just as well as -you do,” was the ungracious answer. - -“Oh, is it? Well, perhaps if we should put our heads together we might -be able to decipher it; for,” he added, truthfully enough, “I’ve taken a -great interest in French lately, and studied it tremendously. But, say, -how did French get into that bottle?” - -“Let me alone; I understand French;” Marmaduke growled, becoming more and -more bewildered. But at last, after ten minutes’ unceasing study of the -letter, he turned so dizzy that he was fain to give it up in despair. -“Here, read it, if you can,” he said, handing it to Charles. “All I can -make out is that it speaks of nobles, and steamboats, and castles, and -anchors, and priests, and sailors, and an English king’s yacht, and -America, and pumpers, and--and--castles, and--and General Somebody--.” - -Charles had made himself tolerably familiar with the letter, but he could -not yet read it very readily. However, his memory served him well, and he -managed to get the main points. But after all the time and learning Henry -had squandered on the letter, it was too bad that it should be “murdered” -thus. Marmaduke listened eagerly, too much absorbed to wonder how it -was that Charles could read so much better than he. As for the other -auditors, to all appearance they were at first more startled than even -Marmaduke. - -“Well, boys,” said he, as Charles folded the letter, and wriggled -uneasily in his damp clothes, “well, boys, you jeered at me about the -bones, but at last we have stumbled upon romance! Here is something -mysterious! - -“Boys, let us solve the mystery! If we were only gallant knights of old, -what glorious deeds we should perform!” - -The speaker strutted up and down as pompously as a schoolboy can, while -the plotters exchanged villainous winks, and glanced eloquently at the -boy in the tree. - -“Read that again!” was the command, and Charles dutifully obeyed, the -dupe listening as eagerly as at first. The others made no remarks, but -endeavoured to look grave and horror-stricken, while the master-plotter -overhead was highly entertained. - -“Oh, the monstrous villain! How durst he steal away a French noble’s -daughter?” Marmaduke exclaimed vehemently. “And she, the heroine, how -bravely she endures her lot! What a heroine!” - -“Well, what shall we do about it?” Will asked, anxious that Marmaduke -himself should propose going to the rescue. Foolish plotters! they -supposed he would strike in with their views without any demur! - -“Why, we must send it to our Government; it is a fit subject for our -new President to deal with. There will be negotiations about it between -France and America; we shall become known all over the world as the -finders of the letter; and finally the illustrious prisoner will be -delivered with great pomp. Yes, boys, we must write to Washington -immediately.” - -The plotters were appalled. Marmaduke was rather too romantic. He viewed -the matter too solemnly. - -There was silence for a few moments, and then Charles said quietly, as -though it made little difference to him what steps Marmaduke might take, -“I hardly think that would be the best way, Marmaduke, because, as you -say, there would be negotiations between the two countries, and the -imprisoned lady might remain a hopeless captive a long time before the -business could be settled and herself set free. We are too chivalrous to -let her pine away in solitude; and besides, by rescuing her ourselves our -renown would be increased millions!” - -These words, (especially the last dozen of them), so sonorous, so -eloquent, so logical, had a telling effect on Marmaduke. - -“You are right!” he exclaimed. “Yes, my brave companions, we will to the -rescue! We may revive the days of chivalry! Now, who will dare to go with -me?” - -Then those wicked plotters laboured to suppress a burst of laughter, and -declared that they would all “dare” to accompany him on his hazardous -expedition. - -Henry in the tree looked on in wonder. “What sort of a boy was this! He -talks like a sixty-year-older!” he muttered; “well, I didn’t expect him -to bring on the heroics till he met me as ‘Sauterelle,’ O dear! this limb -isn’t so comfortable as it used to be.” - -“Oh, what a glorious day this will be for us!” the enraptured one -continued. “The emperor will dub us all knights! I must have that letter, -Charley; but read it again first.” - -Charley did so, but the letter was growing decidedly monotonous to him. - -“Boys,” said Marmaduke musingly, “it seems to me that there are hardly -interjections enough in it--no expressive ones at all, and, you know, a -good Frenchman never says _anything_ without several strong interjections -and expletives.” - -“If she was a French soldier, that would be quite right,” Charles -admitted carefully. “But, she is the daughter of a noble duke.” - -“If she were,” Marmaduke corrected, triumphing even in defeat. But he was -open to reason, and said no more about interjections. - -From time to time every boy except Marmaduke was irresistibly tempted -to shoot a cheering glance toward Henry; but whenever this worthy could -catch an offender’s eye through the leafy branches, he scowled so -horribly that the offender instantly beheld something very attractive -down the river. - -“Now then, let us draw our conclusions,” said Marmaduke; “first, where -can this prison be?” - -“The letter says up this stream,” the Sage returned. “I--I guess perhaps -it must be ‘Nobody’s House.’” - -“That place! George, you are getting very crazy to say that! Well, we -shall see as we go up the river; for, of course, as soon as we see the -prison we shall know it’s the prison. Now, boys, see what an interesting -fact is given us. The letter is dated July 10th, yesterday; therefore it -has been floating only one day! How fast the current has swept it along!” - -The boys had paid no attention to the date that Henry affixed to the -letter, but they did not think the velocity very great. - -“But, boys, there are some things strange in this;” Marmaduke observed. -“In fact, there is one thing very strange--yes, _very_ strange.” - -The plotters, Henry included, quaked with fear. Was their ingenious -scheme, the much-loved plot, which had cost so much “blood and treasure,” -to come to nought? Had Marmaduke detected some flaw in the letter which -had escaped their notice? Were they about to be unmasked in all their -wickedness? - -O plotters, your scheme, which was based and reared on fraud, was to -proceed successful to the end. - -“Wh-what is wrong?” Charley asked, with a quavering voice, his lips of -that “ashy hue” which good romancers delight in introducing. - -“Why,” Marmaduke began, “don’t you observe, sometimes the writer -addresses the finder distantly in the third person, and then again -familiarly and imploringly in the second person! Now, that is ridiculous. -Grammar says not to mix the second and third persons together in writing; -use either the one or the other.” - -At this, Henry crammed the strings of his headgear, together with his -fingers, far into his capacious mouth, and forgot that the limb on which -he roosted was no longer comfortable; whilst the others heaved an audible -sigh of relief, perceiving that Marmaduke, instead of wishing to find -fault with the letter, wished only to display his great knowledge of -things and people in general, grammar in particular. - -But the plotters, one and all, had been in ignorance of this gross insult -to grammar. Whether Henry had not been aware of the rule as quoted by -Marmaduke, or whether he had been too sleepy to observe it, is an open -question. It is stated (he stated it himself, of course, for no one heard -him), however, that he muttered in his throat: “Certainly, this Marmaduke -is no boy at all! His language is too far-fetched for a Yankee boy. Yes; -he is some stunted old crack-brained dwarf of sixty!” - -As soon as Charley could collect himself sufficiently he replied in -these words: “I presume that the captive was in too disturbed a state of -mind to pay particular attention to such minor matters as grammar. And -besides, her grammars were probably at home in France, for likely she -didn’t go aboard with a satchel of school-books in her hand. Now, the -_person_ considered most was evidently the _person_ who should fly to the -rescue.” - -“Don’t treat her woes so lightly,” Marmaduke said angrily, beginning to -suspect that the boys were making fun of him. - -“That ghost story is queer; what do you think of it?” asked Will, anxious -to have the grammarian’s opinion of that. - -“Well, you know the French are a more excitable and romantic race than -we are,” was the answer. “In her solitude and misery perhaps she fancies -that ghosts are hovering near, for all French people have a powerful -imagination.” - -Ah! the boy overhead was gifted with a more powerful imagination than any -one believed. - -“Or,” continued Marmaduke, recollecting what he had read in a book at -home, “or, who knows but that it is some trick of Scélérat’s to terrify -her? Perhaps the monster thinks to drive her distracted!” - -“Perhaps he does,” sighed Steve. - -“Marmaduke, how do you suppose Bélître Scélérat managed to transport the -prisoners from his yacht to this prison?” George had the curiosity to ask. - -The deceived one ruminated a moment and then said sagely: “Well, as -modern Frenchmen are so perfectly at home in balloons, for all we know -they came that way. It would not take long, and the authorities could not -overhaul them.” - -“The very thing!” cried delighted Stephen. “And when we go to the rescue -we can capture the balloon, if it is still there! Yes, I’ve heard before -that Frenchmen love balloons.” - -“Stephen,” shouted Marmaduke, “you have no finer feelings.” - -“Well, let us hurry to the rescue!” Charles said impatiently. “Come, when -shall we go?” - -“I am to be your leader in this, because I take more real interest in -the prisoner than any of you,” Marmaduke returned. “Yes, _I_ must be the -favored one to restore her to freedom. As to when the rescue can be made, -I can’t possibly complete my arrangements till next week.” - -The boys stared blankly, knowing that it would never do to defer the -“rescue” till the next week. Marmaduke would certainly detect the -imposture before that time. - -Charles, however, soon recovered his equanimity, and said calmly: “That -would be very wrong, for don’t you know the writer says she shall go mad -if not rescued immediately? And she urges the finders to come this week, -as Bélître Scélérat will be away. We are only boys, of course; but we are -pretty lively boys, and more than a match for all his jailers.” - -“Yes; but I want to meet this very man, this Scélérat.” - -“O dear!” groaned Will, “if he is so anxious to meet the Atrocious, I’m -afraid he’ll pounce on the ‘impostor’ as we go to hang it!” - -Poor Will! The plot had quite turned his brain! - -“Try chivalry again,” Stephen whispered to Charles. - -“Well, we are too chivalrous to put off the rescue, only because one of -us wishes to encounter this Bélître Scélérat,” cunning Charley observed. -“At least,” he added, “I hope we are too chivalrous--in France they would -be.” - -In his hands chivalry was a mighty lever, one by which foolish Marmaduke -could be turned, and made to act as they saw fit. - -“Well, then, let us go this evening,” Marmaduke answered. - -The plotters were delighted. By skilful management their would-be leader -proved very tractable. - -Will, who had hitherto held his peace, now exclaimed with unfeigned -enthusiasm, “How eagerly Sauterelle will welcome us!” - -A grievous frown darkened the champion’s brow. Confronting Will, he -thundered: “How dare you boys speak of her in that way?--her, the -daughter of one of France’s proudest nobles! When it is necessary to -mention her name, speak of her as the Lady de la Chaloupe.” - -Henry did not know whether to feel complimented or not. He was slowly -forming a very unfavorable opinion of Marmaduke, not knowing that the -boy was now in his element, and hardly responsible for his actions. When -nothing mysterious occurred to arouse him, Marmaduke was very much like -any other boy; but let him stumble upon a mystery, and he was entirely -changed. - -But Stephen, fearing that Marmaduke did not yet sufficiently realize the -magnificence of the duke’s genealogy and title, said excitedly, “That -Duke Chalopsky is the descendant of a whole gang of peers, and lords, and -such people, just like any other duke; isn’t he Marmaduke?” - -Will trembled and whispered, “Hush!” - -The deceived knight-errant felt insulted, and asked, haughtily, “What do -_you_ know about it, Stephen Goodfellow?” - -Stephen quaked, but finally answered meekly, very meekly, “Oh, I’ve -studied about dukes that ran back to the Conquest of something or other, -and so I thought likely he did.” - -The Conquest! Marmaduke’s face brightened; he smiled; he spoke. “O-o-h, -Stephen!” he said, “your notions of history are as much a muddle as all -your other notions! But I haven’t time to enlighten you now. Now, boys,” -he continued, affably, “let us take a lesson from Will and his cousin -when they set out to hunt the demon. We must not carry firearms, but we -must go armed with pikes and sabres.” - -“Where shall we procure ‘pikes and sabres?’” Steve, no longer confused, -but smarting and angry, sarcastically asked. “_I_ can’t imagine, -unless we carve ’em out of broomsticks and staves, and such ‘pikes and -sabres’ don’t amount to much. So, let us go to the rescue armed like -the dusty warriors of the forest--with hatchets, and bows, and George’s -grandfather’s great knife, and slings, and levers, and catapults, and -arrows.” - -Steve probably meant _dusky_ warriors. However, either expression is -correct. - -Marmaduke very properly paid no attention to Steve’s insulting -suggestions, but condescended to ask, “How many jailers do you suppose -there will be?” - -“There were to be three, weren’t there, boys?” Will blunderingly replied -to him, and asked of the others. - -“Why, how do _you_ know?” Marmaduke asked in surprise. “The letter says -nothing about the number of jailers; so, how can _you_ tell? What do you -mean, anyway, Will?” - -Will looked so disconcerted that Marmaduke, although his faith in -Sauterelle was still unshaken, began to suspect that the boys were trying -to impose on him in some way. - -At this crisis the traitor Jim grinned, and said, “Well, you fellows -needn’t make faces at me after this! Will has said worse than I did.” - -Let it not be supposed that Jim’s treachery lay in seeking to overthrow -the plot. By no means; he rejoiced in it, and spoke as he did only to -revenge himself on the others for scowling at him so wickedly, as related -in the beginning of this chapter. Such was Jim, who could bear malice -for a long time; while the others, although they might be very angry for -a few minutes, soon subdued their passions, and _never_ “nursed their -wrath.” - -And yet these unguarded words nearly made an end of the entire plot. It -was now in real danger; again it tottered on its foundation. Only the -greatest tact and presence of mind could save it from utter destruction. - -Charles was the one to avert such a disaster, and he said jokingly, -as though the salvation of the plot did not depend on him: “Here are -two extraordinary juveniles; one thinks because a white man in his -school-book was captured by Indians and guarded by three jailers, _every_ -captive is bound to have just three! The other thinks because a boy makes -a face at him he is brewing some great wickedness!” - -It was not so much the words he said as the nonchalant way in which -he said them. The happy boldness of acknowledging that somebody had -“made faces” at Jim disarmed Marmaduke, and for the time, at least, his -suspicions were allayed. - -Will had too much sense to be offended at being thus ridiculed. If he had -answered back sharply, a quarrel would certainly have ensued, and then -the plot would as certainly have been blown up. As for Jim, though sulky -and wrathful, he also held his peace. - - - - -_Chapter XXXVI._ - -TO THE RESCUE! - - -The plot was saved; but the plotters saw that a great deal of immoral -scheming was required to keep it up, and that, after all, it was -a volcano which might at any moment--not exactly “hurl them to -destruction,” but tear itself to pieces. - -The time and place of meeting were then appointed, and all the boys -departed for their respective homes; all excepting Will and Stephen, who -lingered to escort Henry. - -As soon as the homeward-bound party was out of sight, the latter -slid down from his perch, stretched himself with many a groan, and -readjusted the knight-errant’s sun-bonnet, as, the plot being now so near -completion, he was very anxious to take every precaution. - -“Well,” he growled, “it took you a mighty long time to arrange matters; -and that tree is the most abominably uncomfortable and hard-hearted tree -that I ever saw. Boys,” dolefully, “I don’t like this hiding around in -strayed forest trees, and it is a good thing you persuaded him not to -wait till next week, for I couldn’t have kept out of his sight so long.” - -“Well, what do you think of him!” Will asked eagerly. - -“Oh, he is as much like a musket as a boy,” Henry replied indifferently. -“But,” with some show of interest, “what did he mean by wanting to sail -out on the raft, just to get the bottle?” - -“Oh,” said Will, “Marmaduke thinks if it is worth while to do anything, -it is worth while to do it with great ceremony. If the raft had been -where he supposed it was, and if we had let him alone, he would have -spent half an hour floating around after the bottle, and very likely have -got as wet as if he had gone in swimming for it with his clothes on!” - -After digesting this explanation, Henry proposed that they also should go -home. Will and Stephen were agreed, and the trio slunk off towards the -village as fearfully as if a minion of the law were in hot pursuit. Now -that their plot was an accomplished fact, it would be very unfortunate if -they should be caught napping. - -After supper Henry was joined by Stephen, and the two archplotters set -out for “Nobody’s House” in the most exuberant spirits. Already Henry -felt a little tired, (let it be remembered that he had not yet recovered -from the effects of the preceding day’s journey,) and he was obliged to -get Stephen to carry a mysterious-looking bundle which he had brought -away from his aunt’s. This bundle contained the fantastic “disguise” in -which Henry was to figure as Sauterelle. - -From the tender age of two years, Stephen had been a regular attendant -of picnics, where he had imbibed many extravagant notions, and arrived -at a very boyish and extremely absurd conclusion respecting lovers. -According to his views, a lover is a young man, who, after perfuming his -handkerchief and smearing his head with hair-oil, escorts a young lady -to a picnic, breaks her parasol, fails to provide ice-cream enough, and -finally sees her escorted home under the protection of his hated rival. - -“Henry,” he said, as they hurried on, “I saw Marmaduke tricked out for -the rescue, and, he didn’t mean me to find it out, but I did; he had put -hair-oil on his head, and, as he had no scent, _on his handkerchief, -too_! Henry, I was so--so--” - -“Demoralized?” - -“That’s the word, Henry. I was so demoralized that I said, without -thinking: ‘why, Marmaduke,’ said I, ‘you look more like a genuine lover -than any boy I ever saw!’” - -“And what did he say to that?” - -“Nothing; but he looked so insulted and heart-broken that I apologized, -and told him he was a bully boy, and I always was a fool, anyway. Well, -Henry, when he comes to the rescue, things will be lively, according to -that, eh?” - -“Well, Steve, I once cured a brave boy of his bravery, and if I don’t -cure this fellow of his romance and credulousness, I shall at least make -awful fools of us both.” - -“How did you cure a boy of being brave?” Stephen asked eagerly, regarding -Henry with respect and admiration. - -But here the writer remorselessly shifts the scene to the others. - -As soon after the departure of Henry and Stephen as was prudent, the -“brave men” who were to be the rescuers--Will, Charles, George, Jim, -and the heroic “leader,” Marmaduke--assembled and set out for the -rendezvous, armed very much as Stephen had suggested. - -Visions of figuring on future battle-fields of Europe as Marshal -Marmaduke Fitz-Williams flitted through the hero’s brain, and he strove -to deport himself with as martial an air as possible. But such an air -hardly ever sits easy on a school-boy’s shoulders. - -“Comrades,” he began, using, as far as he knew how, the identical -phraseology of a French soldier when addressing his companions in arms, -“comrades, we are embarking in a hazardous undertaking, but the nobleness -of our work will spur us on to deeds of victory. It is a noble deed that -we are called on to perform--the release of a daughter of one of the -potentates of earth! Let this thought inspire us with enthusiasm! Let -us fly to the rescue, fixed in the resolution to win or die! We shall -warrior like the doughty knights of old!” - -Poor hero! he had yet to learn that _warrior_ is not used in that way. -His eloquence, however, was entirely lost on his hearers, it being too -grandiloquent for even the Sage to appreciate; and like many another -orator, he but “wasted his sweetness on the desert air.” - -“Fellow-soldiers,” he continued, “I will use my influence to procure your -promotion, and you will all one day be renowned generals of the empire.” - -Alas! about the time the speaker took to singing love-songs and reading -love-stories that empire was disrupted! - -“That about the emperor’s wanting one more general was a good stroke, eh, -Will?” Charles whispered. - -It would be foreign from the purpose to record all Marmaduke’s bombastic -speeches as he and his fellows marched to the field of battle. Let it be -taken for granted that in due time they drew up before the fortress. - -Marmaduke reconnoitred the grim old building with its grated windows -and formidable door, and soon decided that here was the prison, though -it was patent to all that he was disappointed, having expected greater -things--having, in short, expected to see a structure bearing more or -less resemblance to the Bastile itself. - -Marmaduke screened himself behind the dilapidated fence, and called out, -in commanding tones: “Hist! I call a halt!” - -As his troops had already halted, they sat down, thinking that if Henry -and Stephen were not yet prepared to receive them this delay would be in -their favour. - -“Corporal James Horner, do you perceive a sentinel on guard before the -prison?” the would-be commander asked. - -“Corporal Horner,” who could not see that part of the prison so well as -the questioner himself, was struck with awe, and answered timidly, “No, -sir, I don’t see nobody.” - -“_Sir_ to me! You would do better to call me _General_.” - -“Yes, sir,” Jim returned, feeling his terrible chills creeping on. - -“Lieutenant Lawrence,” said the young general, “keep order among your -forces! Positively, no straggling!” - -The newly-made lieutenant executed his superior’s orders promptly and -effectually. “If he keeps on at this rate,” he whispered to George, -“there will be fun enough to last for a year! Oh, if Henry and Steve were -only here to enjoy it!” - -“Silence in the ranks!” roared the general. “Commodore Charles Growler, I -call a council of war.” - -This was too much for the more deeply read George, and he cut short the -general’s programme, saying: “A _commodore_ commands a squadron of ships. -There are no ships here that I know of--only a _squad_ of boys.” - -The general was nonplussed. He even felt inclined to dismiss this -arrogant fellow from the service; but fears of encountering a swarm of -armed jailers induced him not to dismiss so good a warrior as the Sage -was known to be. So, after deliberating a moment, he said, meekly enough, -“Boys, we are only losing time here. Let us make a charge, and burst the -door open, and then we can fight our way right on.” - -Burst open the door! Then indeed the timbers of their raft would be -destroyed! But this was no time to reason with Marmaduke, and they -consented to the sacrifice cheerfully. - -Charles very readily came upon what had once been a pump; and after great -and violent efforts the corporals, lieutenants, commodores, generals, -etc., succeeded in raising it to their shoulders; and then, with -soldier-like disregard for the hideous grubs which nestled on it, they -marched, with martial tread, to force an entrance into the prison. - -“This will do instead of a genuine ram,” the general observed -deprecatingly. “Such people as we are often have to resort to various -shifts to do what they wish to do.” - -“So do _boys_,” Charles commented sarcastically, but without a smile. - -“Charge!” cried the general valiantly, when about thirty feet from the -door. - -A blind rush was made; but barely five steps had been taken when the -general, who of course led, tripped over a stone, and the entire “squad” -fell headlong, the “ram” and its grisly inhabitants descending on their -backs with a cruel thud. - -Of course no bones were broken, gentle reader, for it is impossible to -kill a hero, and, as a general rule, impossible to hurt one. And all -these were heroes. - -Yet much of their enthusiasm escaped with the “ohs!” that started from -each pair of lips. - -“Such little accidents are disheartening,” the general gasped, as he -struggled to his feet; “but we are above letting them deter us from our -duty. Charge again! Only, be more careful.” - -As he alone was blamable for the mishap, this advice was superfluous. - -The ram was shouldered again, somewhat reluctantly; a furious charge -was made; and the ram was brought against the “blood-bought” door with -considerable force. A peal of thunder ensued, and the nowise strong door -was shattered, fatally. Truly, this was effecting an entrance in warlike -style. - -But a catastrophe might have been the result. Henry was seated in the -hall, not aware that the besiegers were at hand, and little dreaming that -they intended to force an entrance. When the door was suddenly burst -open, he was started into action in an unlooked for manner--the flying -timbers striking his crazy chair so forcibly that it gave way, flinging -him headlong to the floor. - -More startled than hurt, Henry sprang to his feet, and recognizing Will -and some of the others, shrieked, in accents unmistakably English: -“Saved! Saved!” - -The appearance presented by the rescued one was superlatively ridiculous. -None of the boys had seen him attired in this disguise, and they were -thunder-struck at the metamorphosis. Even Marmaduke stared aghast at the -sight he beheld. - -In a spirit of mischief Stephen had clothed Henry thus, saying, “Poor -Marmaduke; he’ll never know; he’ll think you’re dressed up in the height -of fashion. But he _will_ think that Paris fashions, in crossing the -seas, lose much of their beauty; and while _your_ costume is all right, -_other_ people’s must be all wrong!” - -As a hoodlum boy would have put it: _He looked like all possessed!_ - - - - -_Chapter XXXVII._ - -MARMADUKE STRUGGLES WITH ROMANCE. - - -Kings, ghosts, sea-nymphs, heroes, heroines, all beings, are made to act -and speak in romance just as the exigencies of the plot demand; and yet -it is intimated, in the same breath, that “it is all quite natural, just -as it would be in real life!” In this story every one certainly acts as -the writer pleases, but, so far as he knows, these boys behave as like -boys under similar circumstances would behave. In this chapter, however, -there is an exception, where a change from nature is necessary; and -without a moment’s hesitation, they are made to throw off all restraint, -and talk and act as befits the occasion. In a word, the boys are here no -longer boys, but the noble beings of romance. - -We do not pretend that any boys would carry on a conversation in their -high-swelling strains, the narrative being couched under such strains -for a particular and well-meant purpose. The object being, throughout the -story, to cast ridicule on all sorts of things, this freedom to write in -whatever style is most pertinent to the matter under discussion is our -prerogative, and we use it. In short, we act here on the principle, that -a writer should be hampered by no conventionalities or restrictions that -interfere with the plan of his story. - -It seems to be a well-established principle, that love cannot be -expressed in romance except in a poetic form. We do not believe this -holds good in real life, yet, wishing this story to be accounted a -romance, we have thought it well to abide by the rule in this instance. -After a short deliberation, we have decided to write their passionate -colloquy as though it were only prose; but the intelligent reader can -easily read it as verse--in fact, if he chooses, he can set it all to -music. - -After digesting this preamble in connection with what goes before, the -reader of mature years, if not entirely witless, will be able to grasp -our meaning and discern our motive--or motives, for in this chapter the -aim is to kill several birds with one stone. But the boys--for whom, -after all, the story is written principally--had better skip this turgid -preamble, because a boy always likes to believe a story is more or less -true, and we should be grossly insulted if any one should insinuate that -_this_ story is true. - -Considered in this light, the chapter appears to be only a piece of -foolishness, after all. But, in a measure, it may be considered logically -also. For instance, there seems to be a “vein of reason” running through -it all, and if the reader is on the watch, he will see that this “vein -of reason” crops out frequently. After this preamble it opens _very_ -rationally. - -“Considered logically,” says the reader, “how could this Henry, a -veritable lover, stoop to play the fool, as he did? How could he do this, -if he had any respect for his passion, or for the one whom he loved?” - -Considered logically, gentle reader, Henry was a _boy_; his heart was -sore from fancied slights; he was desperate; it occurred to him that, -placed as he was, he might “view the question from the other side!” -Furthermore, although he and Stephen had conspired to torment Marmaduke, -it is plain that almost everything he said, he said _extempore_. - -As for Marmaduke, he had no sisters, was scarcely ever in the society of -young ladies, and knew nothing of their ways. - -“These are but sorry excuses,” sighs the reader, “unworthy of even a -school-boy!” - -Very true. But they are the best that we can trump up, and therefore -it would be better for you to consider this chapter as founded on the -opposite of reason and logic. - -Marmaduke was anxious that he alone should be recognized as the -liberator, for he wished to receive all the glory of rescuing the -captive. With that intent he pressed nearer Sauterelle, directing his -followers, by an imperious wave of the hand, to disperse in search of the -enemy, and, when found, to give them battle. - -Interpreted into language, that command would have run: Hound down the -mercenary crew, and spare them not! Their evil deeds have brought this -fate upon their heads! - -The avenging party understood this, and, thirsting for blood and glory, -they hurled themselves out of the apartment, whilst Marmaduke turned -his attention to the captive. He saw gratitude, admiration, even -reverence, in the two blue eyes that looked at him. No fear of not being -acknowledged as the rescuer-in-chief: Henry would acknowledge him, and -him only. - -“Ah, my deliverer!” he cried, in so-called French; “you have come to -rescue me, to restore me to freedom! You have found my appeal for help, -and these brave men are your followers?” - -Marmaduke tried hard to understand this, but was obliged to ask if the -conversation could not be carried on in English. - -“Yes, yes, I can speak English,” came the reply. “The good priest has -taught me English.” - -At that instant a fierce combat was heard in an adjoining room, and -horrisonous cries of rage and terror filled the whole building. The hero -knew at once that his followers had encountered, and were waging deadly -contest with, the wicked jailers, and his heart swelled with emotion. - -He was right; his followers had drawn their home-made weapons, and while -Charles, Steve, and Jim, personated these wicked jailers, Will and -George personated the gallant liberators. Having had a rehearsal a few -days previous, they now fought easily and systematically, and with such -heroism and fury that victory must inevitably perch upon their standard. -But, after all (and in this they were quite right), they fought as much -with their lungs as with their arms, so that the din was tremendous. For -full five minutes the combat raged without abatement. The gray light -coming in through the open doorway cast a greenish and peculiar hue over -our hero’s grand face, and he stood stock-still, collected but voiceless; -while the other, wholly unprepared for such an uproar, longed to thrust -his fingers into his ears, and pitied himself with all his heart as he -thought of the racking headache that must soon seize him. - -But finally they vanquished the enemy, and all except Stephen, who had -not yet turned priest, rushed into the presence of the hero and heroine, -shouting wildly: “Routed! Worsted! Slain!” - -“All? Are all slain? And is the battle past?” - -“All; one and all; and we have won.” - -“And so my freedom comes to me again!” cried Sauterelle. “And I am free, -free as the birds, for all his evil schemes are baffled now!” - -Then, as was right on such an occasion, Sauterelle sank at our hero’s -feet, and began in the “bursting heart” style, without which no such -scene ought to be drawn: “Oh, my deliverer, accept my thanks! Through you -I thus am freed! through you I once again shall see dear France,--dear -France, that land of heroes!--Heroes? Ah! all are heroes here, in this, -the land of liberty! Oh, gallant men, you have done well!” - -“Ah, yes, ’tis for the brave to battle for the fair in every land,” our -hero said, as though he, too, had fought. - -Sauterelle still kneeled before our hero, expecting to be lifted up. But -an immense, pyramidal head-dress, many inches high, which only Steve -could construct, towered upwards till almost on a level with our hero’s -eyes, bewildering him. - -“Noble American, this is a rescue worthy of a prince!” Sauterelle cried, -suddenly rising and grasping our hero’s hands in a bear-like grip. - -“Your ladyship--” - -“No, no! My title here is but an empty sound, so call me simply -Sauterelle.” - -“Sau-ter-elle Hi-ron-delle. What sweet and pretty names!” our hero -murmured softly, as Sauterelle let go his hands. - -“What is the name of him who sets me free?” - -“Fitz-Williams is my name; my first name, Marmaduke.” - -Our hero’s followers, still hot, exhausted, and bruised, but not -particularly blood-stained, now rose and stole away, and presently -another great uproar was heard from them. They had seized the impostor -and were carrying it, or him, roughly along. - -“Here is the great chief villain and arch-plotter of them all! Here is -Bélître Scélérat himself!” they roared. - -“Bélître Scélérat? How comes he here? I understood that he was far away,” -our hero said, much puzzled. - -They paused in doubt and consternation. Then a flash of reason penetrated -to their darkened intellect, and dimly conscious that some one had -plotted too much, or not enough, they started into action and pressed -tumultuously on with their captive. - -“Oh, for a sword, that I might pierce the monster’s heart!” our hero -sighed, but sighed in vain. - -At that instant, Steve, now the priest, passed pompously through the -room, and catching our hero’s last words, replied: “No, no! Soil not thy -hands with such a perjured wretch, nor soil thy sword. These soldiers -here should pierce his ears, not thee,” wilfully mistaking the word -_heart_ for _ears_--or perhaps he did not understand English so well as -his pupil. “Brave men, go forth and hang this captured knave from some -great height, and leave him there to crumble into dust.” - -Our hero’s blood-thirsty followers lugged Bélître Scélérat out of the -room and up the stairs with a haste that proved how well and strongly he -was made, and remorselessly prepared to consign him to his ignominious -fate. - -Then our hero and heroine again broke out into their poetry, the latter -saying, “And now, my freedom is achieved. Ah me! I almost now regret that -we should leave these shores, this land of blessèd liberty, and travel -back alone to our loved France! Ah, in my hour of triumph am I sad? Yes, -woe is me, I am!--Oh, Marmaduke, there is no need of this! The priest is -here, the bridegroom and the bride! Oh Marmaduke, there is no cause why I -should go alone. Ah, thou wilt soon be mine, and I shall soon be thine! -Thy husband,--_wife_, I mean. Oh, Marmaduke, dear Marmaduke!” - -As Sauterelle ran on in this strain our hero grew pale and sick with -dismay. Was he to be made a sacrifice of thus? Must the rescue of -necessity lead to this? Oh, it was too awful! - -“A beauty here that would befit a queen; and, yes, I feel love springing -in my heart! But should _I_ marry? _I_, a boy, and _this_, the daughter -of a duke? Oh, that it might be so! As I have said, the French are more -excitable than we. But am I not the rescuer-in-chief? In such a case as -this, what should I do?” - -A triumphant shout of sated vengeance now rang through the building. -Bélître Scélérat was securely fastened, not exactly hanged, out of an -upper window. A minute later the executioners came clattering noisily -down stairs, then filed respectfully past our hero and heroine into -another room, and took up a position where they were screened, but from -which they could see and hear all that was going on. This action on their -part was more conformable to human nature than to the laws of romance or -the dignity of heroes. - -A sidelong glance disclosed the fact that our hero’s face was of the -hue of polished marble, and that large tears of heartfelt emotion were -starting from his eyes, while other tears were welling from the pores of -his neck and forehead. - -“Père Tortenson, Père Tortenson,” cried Sauterelle. “Is he not here? Then -go, some one, to look for him, and bring him here to me. The marriage may -take place without delay.” - -“Dear Sauterelle,” our hero said, “I feel I love thee well indeed, but -yet I may not marry thee. Thy friend, thy humble servant, guide, and -helper, I will ever be; thy husband--ah!” - -Our hero’s grammar says _mine_ and _thine_ are used only in solemn style. -Our hero and heroine were aware of this--they were but paying tribute to -the solemnity of the occasion. - -“No! say not that! You own that you love me as I love thee. What is there -then to come between us and our happiness? Is it, alas! my title and my -rank? Think not of them; they shall be nought to us. My Marmaduke, I’d -lay them all aside for thee. Or what is it? Speak, Marmaduke; I wait to -hear thee speak.” - -“Alas, dear Sauterelle,--if really I may call thee so,--I am not worthy -thee. It is indeed thy title and thy rank. How couldst thou wed a -non-commissioned officer like me?” - -“Perhaps you are the kidnapped heir of some great English lord.” - -“Oh, _could_ it be? Oh, would it were! Then I thy equal--Oh, say not -that! No; do not torture me.” - -“I understand it now,--my love is not returned,--you do not care for me.” - -“Love thee! Indeed I love thee well--love thee, as boy never loved -before--love thee, as I ne’er can love again!” - -“Oh, Marmaduke! dear Marmaduke! you cause me joy. My Marmaduke, I’ll call -again the priest.” - -“Thy father!--No, no! I dare not meet thy father!” - -“Dread not my father’s ire. He loves his child; his child loves thee. Ah, -thou art all mine own, for all that thou hast urged is but a paper wall.” - -“Dear Sauterelle, I must admit I love thee well. To be thine own--oh, -joy! But no; it cannot be. I have no wealth, no heritage at all. A wife -is far from me.” - -“Wealth? What is wealth to me? Wealth is an idle word--non-entity--a -gin--a snare--a clap-trap. How should we live? Let no such thoughts occur -to thee. Though wealth is nought, ’tis true, my father hath it, and thou -couldst have enough to live as princes live.” - -“‘Alas,’ you said, ‘perhaps my father lives no more.’” - -“Ah, then am I his heir, and all his riches ours. Oh, Marmaduke, why -should you longer hesitate to take this step, or longer pause for foolish -whims? Then call again the priest. Why loiters he?” - -But our hero was not yet sensible of the duty that devolved upon him--he -did not yet fully realize his position--he still hung back--and his -poetical objections having been one by one confuted, he now had the -excess of baseness to offer another. - -“Alas, I know not well thy foreign tongue. How couldst thou hear me -always in my rough tongue, when thine, so sweet, so soft, so beautiful--” - -“No! speak not so!” cried Sauterelle. “I will not hear thee speak so! Oh, -slander not the language that is thine. And, ah!--thou art a ready youth, -I see it in thine eye,--how sweet the task of teaching thee my polished -mode of thought and speech! But yet, even as it is, we can converse quite -easily! Père Tortenson, the time for marrying is here.” - -“Ah, that is truth!” our hero cried. “You speak my English quite as well -as I!” - -Then, in a rational moment, he said rationally, “As you have said, dear -Sauterelle, we love each other well; but being still so young, so very -young, we must not think of marriage yet a while. ’Tis hard to part with -thee,--our lot is doubly hard,--but fate is ever merciless. Farewell, my -love, we part.” - -He tore himself away, as though he would have fled. - -“’Tis true that we are young,” said Sauterelle. “Our hearts are warm and -young, not chilled and seared with age and woe. To leave me? No! it shall -not be! Thou must not go!” - -“To love is either happiness or pain; to love, and to be loved -again,--oh, this is ecstasy!” - -“Oh, Marmaduke, you thrill my heart with joy!” - -“Alas, dear Sauterelle, that love and duty should thus clash! But, oh, -I must not marry thee; I am so far beneath thee. Dear Sauterelle, thou -wilt return to France and be the wife of some great prince, while I, -alas! shall wear my life away in hopelessness and grief. And yet, oh -Sauterelle, I love thee so! I love thee so! I fear I yet shall yield to -love, forgetting duty.” - -Then Charles stepped out of his lurking-place, and said respectfully: - -“Forgive me, sir, that I should speak to you, but duty is not always what -it seems. How can this helpless one return to France alone! A priest -at hand, a marriage, sir, is duty in this case. Your father’s house -is near--live there till Duke Chaloupe hears of this rescue and this -marriage. Then Duke Chaloupe will send us funds for all to go to France.” - -“Oh, would that I could think that you are right! I should no longer -hesitate.” - -Then, forgetting himself and his position, he fell back on prose. “Why -should not Lady Sauterelle and the priest return? Are there no hoards of -jewels and treasure here in this building, that would pay the passage, at -least? Scélérat, perhaps, has millions buried here, which can be found.” - -“No he hasn’t,” said Will, thrusting his head into the room. “Not a cent. -What did you expect the captive to do after the rescue? What were your -ideas on that point?” - -“Alas,” groaned Marmaduke, “I had none! I never thought what any of us -would do immediately after the rescue; my thoughts were far ahead in the -future. Oh, if I had only sent that letter to the Government!” - -At that moment a person with majestic mien strode into the room, saying, -“I come, I come; who calls Père Tortenson? Is it a marriage, lovely -Sauterelle? If so, quite right. Who is the honored bridegroom?” - -As Marmaduke’s chivalric notions of right and wrong still admonished -him not to enter into marriage with a person of noble birth, he had the -uprightness to resist the feelings of his heart once more, though it -cost him a hard struggle to do so. - -Then the other, casting on a tragic air, said, “Alas for the decay of -chivalry! In the old days it was not thus. Then no weak whim of fancied -right e’er came between two loving hearts.” - -Charles whispered to our hero’s followers, and then, having stepped into -the room, they chorused, their voices, attuned by war and conquest, -filling the place with harmony: “Your duty, sir, is very plain, and we -are grieved that we should have to point it out: a marriage, as you are. -A few years hence, and you will be the mighty king of some great land.” - -Then Marmaduke shone forth in all his native nobleness. He reverently -took Sauterelle’s hand in his own, but before giving the word to the -priest he chanted: “In rank, in ti-tle, and in birth; in rich-es, age, -and clime; in all things, thou surpassest me, O lovely Sauterelle.” - -“Yea, even in height!” chimed in Père Tortenson. - -“Proceed, sir priest,” said Marmaduke. - - * * * * * - -The plot was now, they supposed, at an end. It would be as well to -consider its framers as boys again. - -Henry did not wish to prolong the scene, and he whispered to Will: “This -is as far as I dare go; but try to think of something--_anything_--to -keep up the fun a little longer.” - -Stephen pretended to be fumbling in the pockets of his robe. Turning -to the Sage, he whispered imploringly, “Oh, George, can’t you -‘ventriloquism’ a little--_ever_ so little?” - -“The ghost!” George muttered. “Let us bring in the ghost!” - -“The ghost? My stars! we never settled how that was to be done!” Steve -said blankly. - -“Oh, Steve, I wish you were free to play the spectre!” Will sighed. “What -was it that we intended the ghost to do, anyway?” - -“Oh, my gracious, I don’t know; I’m all a muddle!” - -But the moments were slipping away very fast. Marmaduke heard their -mutterings, though he did not understand them, and he was becoming uneasy. - -“Proceed with the ceremony,” he repeated. - - - - -_Chapter XXXVIII._ - -THE STARTLERS THEMSELVES ARE STARTLED. - - -But the tables were to be turned in a startling and wholly unlooked-for -manner. The boys had had their day of imposing on simple Marmaduke; and -now, in their turn, they were destined to suffer acutely from uneasiness -and remorse for several hours. - -Such a sentence always finds a place in romances at certain conjunctures, -and, if judiciously worded, reflects great credit on the romancer. But -the reader cannot always perceive the beauty of such a sentence, and -therefore it would be showing more respect for his feelings to follow our -Jim. - -This hero had slipped away from his companions shortly before Stephen -at last appeared as priest. Being only a figure-head on this occasion, -his absence or presence did not concern them in the least, and he was -suffered to slip out of the backdoor without comment. - -He wished to make his way into the upper story without going up the -stairs, as to do that it would be necessary to pass the hero and heroine. -However, being well-acquainted with the building, and knowing how to -climb, he easily made his way into the upper story from the rear. Then -he stole noiselessly across the gloomy chamber, and felt his way to the -window, where the “imposter,” Bélître Scélérat, hung in state. - -It is a fundamental principle that villains, when about to perpetrate -their dark crimes, should express their wicked thoughts in “hurried -whispers.” This is very foolish on the part of the villains; but it is -not easy to see how novels could be written if it were otherwise. Of -course the romancers do not always overhear these “hurried whispers,” but -the walls in the vicinity have ears, and probably the romancers get at -them in that way. - -“Now, then,” muttered Jim, “I’ll teach ’em better than to leave me out of -their plots till they have to let me in. Charley and Steve intend to come -along for this to-morrow, do they, and take it away, and float it burning -down the river? I’ll bet they won’t! I’ll burn it all to smoke and ashes -now, as it hangs on its pins, and serve ’em right!” - -“Hum, _this_ is Jim’s treachery!” sneers the reader. “I was led to expect -something better; I am disappointed.” - -Gentle reader, if you are a faithful peruser of novels, you must have -a great fund of patience. Draw, then, on that fund, and more of Jim’s -designs will presently be unfolded. Draw on your imagination, also; for -his treachery was never fully made known. - -Suiting the action to the word, Jim fumbled in his pocket and took out a -bunch of matches, which he had put there for this very purpose. He knew -he was doing wrong, and his hand trembled as he struck a light. He knew -that his terrible disease might seize him at any moment; and so, fearing -to stay longer where he was, he hastily applied the light to the spectral -figure, and turned to steal away. - -The inflammable material of Bélître Scélérat’s clothes instantly caught -fire, and he himself was soon ablaze. - -“Now to run and tell Marmaduke he is fooled,” Jim muttered. - -In this way, poor simpleton, he thought to ease his conscience! But the -“still small voice” will be deceived by no such flimsy excuses. - -“Then to yell ‘Fire!’--Oh, if any ghost _should_ be up here, now,--if -there _are_ such things as ghosts,--this is the place for them! Now, to -get away.----Ow! Ow! Ouowh!” - -The cause of these unmusical yells from Jim was that he heard hasty -footsteps issuing from a room to the left, and then a ghost-like figure -appeared in the flaring light of the burning impostor. - -Jim had almost expected to encounter something horrible, and when this -apparition hove in sight his terror was all the more intense. - -Setting up horrisonous howls, that would have been a credit to Bob -Herriman himself, he forgot all about the dangerous place in the -floor,--which, as has been said, the explorers discovered, carefully -marked out, and avoided,--and rushed blindly upon it. A groan, a -trembling, and it gave way beneath him with the crash of an earthquake. - -Marmaduke had just given the word to the priest for the second time, when -a succession of frightful howls and yells of agony struck their ears, and -a moment later a blinding cloud of dust, plaster, and splinters, pervaded -the apartment. - -Jim, a scratched and woe-begone object, also fell. - -Thus the plotters’ little difficulty was obviated; thus a ghost came to -them. - -But that was not all. It so happened (rather, _of course_ it happened) -that Sauterelle and the general were in the course of the faller. - -Before any of the demoralized plotters could think what was the matter, -or even think at all, Jim dropped heavily downward, and his feet caught -in the rescued one’s outlandish headdress. It was rudely torn off, and -Henry’s aching head received so violent a wrench that he could have -roared with the pain. - -Although Jim’s fall was not stopped, its course was deflected, and his -head and body were thrown furiously into Marmaduke’s and Stephen’s arms. -He thus escaped with sundry painful bruises, owing perhaps his life -to the accident of striking Henry’s headdress and being thrown upon -Marmaduke and Stephen. - -These two, also, were stunned and slightly hurt; and a pair of unique -goggles, that Steve wore as a partial disguise, went the way of the -hammer, the axe, and the band-box full of rusty tools. - -Confusion reigned for a few moments; but as soon as the general could -think at all, his thoughts reverted to Sauterelle. - -“Oh, where is Lady Sauterelle?” he cried. - -He flew to Henry’s side, to behold--oh what? - -Henry had seized his opportunity to strip off his disguise, and now -stood revealed in coat, vest, and pants--a very boy-like boy. - -The plotters, somewhat recovered from their surprise, and seeing that no -one was much the worse for the fright, saw the dupe’s look of horror and -consternation, and could restrain themselves no longer. The long pent-up -laughter burst from each mouth in one deafening roar. This was what they -had plotted for, and it had come. - -With a tragic and truly pathetic air, Marmaduke threw up his hands, -cried, in piteous tones, that the plotters will remember till their last -hour, “I am betrayed!” and fled out of the house like a madman. - -For the first time the boys felt heartily ashamed of themselves. They all -ran out to call him back and beg his forgiveness, and discovered what -they would have known before, if they had not been so engrossed with -Jim’s fall and Henry’s unmasking. - -The building was on fire and burning furiously! Though it was not five -minutes since Jim struck his match, the fire had gained too great a hold -to be extinguished. - -Jim was appalled. Nothing was further from his thoughts than the burning -of the prison-house; though a little reflection would have shown him -that a figure fashioned of greasy clothes, and stuffed with rags, straw, -shavings, and sundry valuables that slipped in unawares, could not burn -within a few inches of a wooden building without setting it on fire. - -“Fire! fire!” yelled the heroes, hardly knowing whether to be delighted -or otherwise at the prospect of such a bon-fire. - -In the excitement of the moment the search after Marmaduke was given up. - -“Are--are we all out, or is somebody burnt up?” Will asked, wildly, but -with rare presence of mind. - -“Oh, boys, I did it, but I didn’t mean to burn the house,” Jim confessed. -“All I wanted was to burn your impostor, and tell Marmaduke the truth, -and--Ou! ou! ou! ou!” he shrieked. “There it is again! ou, ou!” and the -boy with the chills took to his heels. - -Jim practised running: on this occasion he was soon out of sight. - -The rest looked in the direction pointed out by Jim, and beheld a figure -in white gliding towards them. Was it a ghost, or some one wrapped up in -a sheet, so foolish as to play the part of a ghost? - -“Oh, dear;” gasped Steve, “what is going to happen next?” - -All the boys were wrought up to a pitch of great excitement, and were -more terrified than they cared to acknowledge. Henry’s thoughts reverted -to his Greek history and Nemesis. - -But after a moment the Sage observed, with his habitual philosophy, -“Well, if it’s the ghost that inhabited that house, he is wise in seeking -other quarters, for it will soon be nothing but red-hot ashes.” - -Then, afraid that Henry might think him weak enough to believe in ghosts, -he added, hastily, “Of course, you know, boys, that there are no such -creatures as ghosts; only--” - -At this juncture the speaker broke off abruptly, and whatever information -he had to impart was lost. The apparition was now quite close to the -boys, and as the last words left George’s lips, it flung off something -very much like a sheet, and exclaimed, in a voice quite as human as -ghostly: - -“Well, young gentlemen, since you hesitate to take me for a supernatural -being, I shall reveal myself to you.” - -“Do it, then,” said Steve, in street Arab style. “Do it, for we must be -off to look for a comrade.” - -“This to me!” cried the new-comer, angrily. “I’d have you know that I am -Benjamin Stolz.” - -“Oh, horrors!” groaned Steve. “It’s the man that owns ‘Nobody’s House.’” - -Mr. Stolz spoke again. (By the way, his full name was Benjamin Franklin -Stolz.) Laying aside the bantering tones in which he first addressed -them, he spoke fiercely: - -“Young men, I want to know who owns that burning house?” - -“The one straight ahead of us?” Will asked, as if they were in the midst -of a burning city, with buildings on fire on every side. - -Mr. Stolz stooped, picked up a small stone, and flung it towards the -fire, saying, “That is the building I have reference to, unhappy youth. -If you can’t see it yet, I will carry you up to it. I repeat, _who is -supposed to own that place_?” - -“I am to blame for all this, Mr. Stolz,” Charles had the courage to say. -“I persuaded the boys to come and make use of it; but I thought it was so -useless, and had been left idle so many years, that no one valued it. I -beg pardon, Mr. Stolz.” - -Stolz hesitated. The boy’s willingness to receive all the blame touched -him. “He is a fine little fellow,” he said to himself, “but now that I -have started this I must go through it.” - -Charles gained, rather than lost, by his confession, yet he did not -escape punishment. Perhaps he did not expect that. - -“Well,” began Mr. Stolz, “think twice, or even four or five times, before -you plan to ‘make use of’ the property of others again. When I choose -to burn down my establishments, I shall do it myself, and not call in -schoolboys to do it for me. Did any of you ever hear what the law says -about burning a man’s house? Law, and the newspapers, and insurance -agents, call it _incendiarism_. Judges and juries call _incendiarism_ -a very nefarious occupation. Now, don’t wait to see the walls -collapse--begone! all of you! To-morrow I shall send a writ of summons to -each of you! Begone! Good night.” - -Having discharged his horrible threat about the writ of summons, Stolz -turned and strode towards the blazing and roaring fire, a very odd smile -on his lips. - -The “incendiaries” did not see that smile, and they stood staring at his -retreating figure, speechless and hopeless. This was the end of their -plot! Ah, its growth had been difficult and uneven--its end was sublimely -tragical! - -Not one of them had accused Jim of firing the building, though, from -his own confession, each one knew that Jim only was guilty of the deed. -However, they deserve no praise for this, since they were all so utterly -confounded that not one of them remembered it. But as Mr. Stolz was the -ghost that caused Jim’s panic, flight, and fall, he must certainly have -known all about it, and consequently it was better that they should hold -their peace. - -After a solemn silence, Stephen asked faintly, “Boys, what’s a writ of -summons? Isn’t it something awful?” - -The Sage brightened and answered him thus: “Yes, Steve, it is a dreadful -instrument of justice to deliver culprits up to the fury of Law--to -trial, punishment, and torture.” - -Steve, who had a very vague notion of what the word _instrument_ means, -instantly thought of thumb-screws, racks, and divers other engines of -torture, that our “chivalrous” forefathers were so ingenious as to invent -and so diabolical as to use. - -“Boys,” said Charles, “we are in a worse scrape than ever before. It -would be an awful thing if we should be sent to prison! Oh, it would kill -my mother! Henry, do you really think Stolz could send us to prison?” - -“I don’t know,” said Henry, in a mournful voice, little above a whisper. - -“Look here, boys,” spoke the Sage, with his time-honored phraseology, “we -have lost track of Marmaduke altogether. We must find out what has become -of him.” - -“O dear, if he is missing, I shall not care to live!” Henry declared -sincerely. “Where do you suppose he is, boys? Is he a boy to take such a -thing very much to heart?” - -“I’m afraid he is,” Will acknowledged. “He takes everything so seriously -that this will be almost too much for him.” - -“Why didn’t you tell me that before?” Henry asked bitterly. - -With wildly beating hearts the little band began to search for the -missing one, calling him imploringly by name and begging his forgiveness. -The search was continued till Henry became so completely exhausted that -he could no longer drag himself along; and then it was incumbent on the -others to take him home. - -As they drew near the village, one of them proposed to stop at -Marmaduke’s home and inquire after him, in the faint hope that he might -be there. The others agreed to this, but with little hope of receiving a -favorable answer. - -“Is Marmaduke at home?” Charles asked timidly, as Mr. Fitz-Williams -opened the door. - -“No, he is not,” came the answer, “and we are very uneasy about him.” - -The plotters did not explain themselves, but turned away, more heart-sick -than before. Suppose that he should wander off, and be found dead some -time afterwards, would not they be held guilty? Would not they be goaded -by remorse to the end of their days? Or suppose that he should follow the -slighted schoolboy’s bent, run away to sea, and never be heard of again -for twenty years. - -Stephen was so distressed that he actually said to his fellow-sufferers: -“Boys, if he would only come back, I wouldn’t tease him about getting -married. I intended to tease him about it for months; but I won’t now, if -he will only come back; I won’t, not a bit!” - -Stephen was a boy of boys; and for him to say that was to express his -contrition in the strongest possible terms. - - - - -_Chapter XXXIX._ - -REPENTANT PLOTTERS.--THE HEROES RE-UNITED. - - -The discomfited plotters were forced into a confession of all their deeds -for the past few days, and a party headed by Mr. Fitz-Williams set out -to scour the country for the missing boy. Then, contrite and woebegone, -the evildoers slunk into their respective homes, there to receive what -punishment their outraged parents should see fit to inflict. - -It is not best to enter into details; it would be too harrowing. It is -sufficient to say that when their weary heads at length sought their -pillows, sleep refused to come to their relief, and such a night of -torture few of them ever passed. - -“If it wouldn’t make us appear guiltier than we are,” Henry said, with -feverishly bright eyes, “you and I would pack up, too, Will, and run -away, and travel all around the world.” - -As Henry did not deign to state how this might be accomplished, we are -left to infer that he had an idea of a flying-machine in his mind. - -Stephen and Charles wore out the night in wondering what they should do -with themselves if sent to prison. The former resolved that he would -undermine the prison foundations with his jack-knife, and make his escape -to Robinson Crusoe’s island. - -“There I shall spend my life,” he sighed heroically, “thinking of -Marmaduke. Robinson lived alone twenty-eight years; I’m only sixteen, I -shall probably live alone about sixty years, if the cannibals don’t catch -me and eat me up.” - -Poor dreamer! He was not sufficiently well versed in geography to know -that Robinson Crusoe’s island is not now so desirable a place to play the -hermit in as it was in the seventeenth century. - -George, who was of an inquisitive disposition, finally left his bed, -broke into the lumber-room of his ancestral home, and after diligent -search, found a bulky tome, which, years before, had been consigned to -that dreary region as being more learned than intelligible. This tome was -entitled “Every Man his own Lawyer.” - -With this prize he returned to his bedroom, muttering, “Now I shall see -just what the law can do to us boys, and all about the whole business, -and what we ought to do and say.” - -After an hour’s careful study of this neglected “Mine of Wealth,” the -Sage let it slip out of his hands, and tumbled into bed again, muttering: -“Yes, one of us is guilty of the crime of arson. That is very clear. All -of us are liable to be sent to prison. That is pretty clear. As I make -it out, the sentence ranges between six months and a hundred years. Which -will the judge conclude we deserve, six or one hundred? Oh, well, it will -be hideous to live in a prison at all, for there will be no books there!” - -According to the Sage’s notions, the worst fate that could possibly -overtake him would be to be deprived of his books. - -“But, O dear,” he pursued, “I should be willing to give up all my books -if Marmaduke could be found.” - -Morning dawned on the reformed plotters with mocking serenity. There -could be no enjoyment for them while such a cloud of mystery hung over -their companion’s fate. - -The searchers were not so successful on this occasion as when they used -to rove over land and sea for Will and his companions; not the slightest -clew to Marmaduke’s whereabouts being found. - -The news of the preceding day’s doings was already known throughout -the neighborhood, and the boys were spoken of in no flattering terms. -Those villagers whose phraseology was refined, called them “whimsical -juveniles, wise beyond their years;” while those villagers whose -phraseology was terse and expressive, brutally gave them Greek and -Japanese nick-names for the Evil One. - -As the hour of dinner approached, a grim-visaged man, who looked like -the descendant of a long line of executioners and muleteers, so grave -and stern were his features, called on each one of the five boys who had -had an interview with Mr. Stolz, and delivered to each one a formidable -envelope that bore the impress of the Law, and a single glance at which -was sufficient to freeze one’s blood. Having done this, the “minion of -the law,” as the terrified boys supposed he was, left the village at a -round pace, looking less and less grave with every step. Reader, this -person was a bosom-friend of B. F. Stolz’s, disguised with a lawyer’s -neck-tie, hat, and cane, or cudgel. - -Fearfully the awe-inspiring seals were broken, and the legal missives -were found to run as follows: - - “Having observed a party of urchins prowling around my place - up stream, and having, by the merest accident, learned the - contents of a certain ‘letter’ written by a certain William, - I was so long-headed as to put this and that together; and I - resolved to make myself acquainted with what was going on. - Accordingly, I watched, and waited, and hovered lovingly near - you, when you knew it not. I discovered your plot. Last night I - was hidden away up-stairs, within earshot, prepared to spring - among you suddenly as a ghost, when I had an unexpected meeting - with Jim. The rest I believe you know. Don’t be at all alarmed - about the fire; Jim alone is responsible for that; I will - take no further notice of the affair. I wished to punish you, - however, and hit on this little plan. Whether I have succeeded - or not, you yourselves know best. If you were kept awake by - uneasiness last night as much as I was by laughter, I am more - than indemnified for the loss of ‘Nobody’s House.’ - - “In the matter of Marmaduke, I believe he is keeping house in - the big barn on the road to----. I have already notified his - parents of this. To the Rescue, O ye Heroes! - - “I have the honor, your excellencies, to sign myself your - humble servant. - - “B. F. STOLZ.” - -This Stolz was a remarkable man--almost a genius. Professionally a -farmer, he was wholly taken up with the pastime of playing practical -jokes. No subject, no person, was too exalted to escape him; and, as his -letter proves, he stooped to play off his tricks on even boys! In this -instance he had actually spied on them, and let them make free with his -house, intending to electrify them as a hobgoblin when they should have -worked themselves up to a proper pitch of excitement. - -But, like every one else concerned in this scheme, he himself was a -sufferer. - -The boys were relieved. No more haunting fears of being sent to -penitentiary; no more ingenious speculations as to how they should occupy -themselves there. Better than all else, they had news of Marmaduke. - -When Marmaduke discovered the imposition, and fled, he was almost -beside himself with grief, horror, and anger. It seemed to him that boys -who could deliberately contrive and execute so base a scheme must be -exceedingly depraved--cruel, and lost to all sense of honor. It seemed -to him, in short, that they were worse than they were. After having been -duped so completely by them, he could not endure the thought of ever -seeing them again, and so resolved to abandon his country. - -Poor Marmaduke! He was of a sensitive temperament, and believed that his -heartless school-fellows would ridicule him for evermore. - -He wandered on till he came to a large and empty barn, and then it -occurred to him that it would be proper for him, as an exile, to take up -his quarters in it for a short time. He reasoned, also, that if he should -be looked for, it would be well to keep hidden till the search was over, -when he could continue his flight towards the sea-coast, or any other -place, in peace and safety. - -“I am resolved that they shall not take me,” he said in himself, “for I -could not survive another attack from those boys. No, I shall wander off -to some happy land, where my merit will be appreciated. Then I shall set -to work, become rich and famous, and after long years have passed I shall -return for a few days to my insulting countrymen, _a great man_! _Then_ -people that think it is hardly worth while to say ‘good-day’ to me now, -will be glad to catch a glimpse of me from behind a window-curtain; and -that horrible old woman that says _I_ look a little like her _son_, the -_carter_, will discover that the _Governor of the State_ looks just like -_me_! Then those boys--they will be men then--will remember that I used -to be Marmaduke, that they used to sit in the same seat with me, and that -they used to study out of my books sometimes; and they will come around -me, humble and cringing, and try to get me to recognize them. But I won’t -recognize them--by even a look or a turn!” - -Full of his future triumph and of his most original manner of slighting -his persecutors, Marmaduke effected an entry into the old barn in a -very burglarious way, not at all compatible with his dignity. To speak -plainly, he picked the lock with a pair of tweezers, which he had used a -few hours previous for a different, a very different purpose. - -Here he spent the night, dozing, fuming against his school-fellows, and -speculating on his future glory; while his nearly distracted parent was -dragging ponds, snappishly replying to the impertinent questions of -curious old women, sending little boys and big men hither and thither on -a fool’s errand, and goading sleepy knights of the telegraph almost to -frenzy. - -Next morning as Mr. Stolz was passing the old barn, he fancied he heard -strange sounds within. He slid off his horse, warily drew near, and -looking through a knot-hole, discovered the missing boy lying on the -floor, holding quiet converse with himself, as he matured his plans for -the future. - -Stolz hurried back to his horse, almost beside himself with laughter, and -thinking that the boys’ plot was most sublimely ridiculous. - -Just as the dreamer was in the midst of composing an elaborate letter of -farewell to his mother, his sterner parent appeared on the scene, and -poor Marmaduke’s trip to “some happy land” was postponed indefinitely. - -Strange as it may at first seem, Marmaduke was more pleased to return -home than he cared to acknowledge. Life as an exile in a gloomy old -barn was decidedly monotonous; and his curiosity as to who the prisoner -represented by Sauterelle could be, was becoming excited. It was a -mystery which he must fathom. - -His poor mother and his remorseful companions welcomed him with -heart-felt joy; and twenty-four hours after he and Henry first met, they -were debating--with considerable constraint, it is true--whether there is -more fun in fishing with a spear than with a pole and line. - -Such is life--among school-boys. - -What effect did this have on the tricksters, in a moral point of view? -Only a slight one, certainly not a lasting one. Though shocked and -conscience-smitten for a time, they were soon as reckless and perverse -as ever; and the lesson their suffering should have taught them was -unheeded. - -Considering the leniency with which Mr. Stolz treated them, they should -have felt grateful towards him. On the contrary, whenever this practical -joker hove in sight on his goggle-eyed old charger, instead of advancing -to touch their hats to him respectfully, they regarded him with such -deep-seated rancour that they invariably jumped over the handiest fence, -and strolled off somewhere through the fields. - -The gossiping villagers had a new subject of comment, and they took -delight in jeering at the “French lords,” as they insultingly called -the ex-plotters. For that reason it was dangerous, as long as the -holidays lasted, to say anything to them about France or Frenchmen; and -Stephen fell into such a habit of looking furious that his left eye was -permanently injured. - -As for Henry, he became so home-sick and heart-sick that, after a visit -of only ten days, he packed his valise and returned. - - - - -_Chapter XL._ - -THE HEROES FIGURE AS HUNTERS. - - -Perhaps the reader may think that while the seven heroes were together, -instead of packing Henry, the seventh (observe the comma immediately -after Henry; observe, also, that it is not written Henry VII.), off home, -it would have been better to relate a few more of their exploits. Not so. -In imposing on Marmaduke, each one was guilty of a breach of trust, so -that it would not be right to have them appear with such a stain on their -reputation. As for Jim, he premeditated villainy; and in good romances -no villain can long be regarded as a hero--unless he happens to be a -highwayman, and it would be preposterous to attempt to have Jim play the -highwayman. Now, the intention is to write this story on a moral basis; -therefore, a few years are suffered to elapse, and they are supposed to -reform in that time. - -Marmaduke did no wrong, so that his history might be continued, without -doubt. But this story could not go on, unless all the boys, Jim included, -were in it. - -Suppose, therefore, that six years have passed since the burning of -“Nobody’s House.” The boys, now men, are still alive, and in good health -and spirits. How they have spent those six years is not difficult to -imagine. All of them regularly attended school till they were big and -awkward, when most of them were sent to a university, to complete their -education. - -It was originally the intention to relate some thrilling incidents that -took place while they were students; but being too lazy to collect -sufficient scientific facts to do so with effect, that intention was -reluctantly given up. - -Gentle reader, if you are ever at a loss for something to sigh about, -just think what you have missed in not reading how four sophomores barely -escaped blowing themselves and a leaky steamboat up into the clouds, -fancying that they understood the _theory_ of working a steam-engine. -To torture you still further, imagine, also, a scene in which a learned -professor’s “focus cannon” mysteriously, unadvisedly, and to the heroes’ -amazement and horror, shot a ball into a pair of glass globes, which the -affectionate students were about to present to him. - -It was autumn; and the seven young men, heroes still, were preparing to -journey far northward, to hunt deer, or whatever else their bullets might -chance to strike. - -Will and Henry prevailed on Uncle Dick to accompany them--greatly to the -satisfaction of the elders, who fondly hoped he would keep a fatherly eye -on the reckless hunters, and prevent them from destroying themselves. - -Fully equipped, the party of eight set out for the “happy hunting -grounds,” firm in the resolution to kill all the game still remaining in -the great northwest. If plenty of ammunition and fire-arms would avail, -then certainly they should bring home a great supply of animal food. - -But whether the fourfooted creatures of the forest were forewarned that a -band of mighty hunters was on the war-trail, and fled from their sylvan -haunts, or whether they obstinately remained, and bade defiance to the -Nimrods’ balls, is a mooted point, which the intensely interested reader -may set at rest as he pleases. - -Having arrived at the outskirts of a growing settlement, close to a -genuine forest, the eight hunters fell to work, and soon built an -uncomfortable and unsafe little shanty. - -“This will be life in earnest,” Charles observed joyously. - -The young ladies of his native village politely spoke of him as “Mr. -Growler;” but his moustache was still so white that we should not be -justified in so honoring him. - -“Yes; this is the artless life our forefathers lived;” said Marmaduke, -poetical as ever. - -“No,” corrected Stephen, “our forefathers didn’t range through the forest -with Castile soap in their bundles and charms dangling on their watch -chains.” - -“Come, now, considering that you smuggled the soap into Marmaduke’s pack, -you are rather hard on him,” said Will. - -“Oh, I smuggled it there for my own use as well as for his,” Stephen -explained. - -This proves that Steve was as fond as ever of monkey tricks. - -Of course the hunters were to depend on what they killed in the chase for -food; and so, as soon as they were fairly settled, Will and Henry set out -to shoot something that would make a delicious stew for dinner. - -All at once a strange, shadowy form was espied by Will, lurking in the -edge of the wood; and without a moment’s hesitation he raised his gun -and fired. Now, at home, Will was considered an excellent marksman; -therefore, Henry, who was beside him, was not surprised to see that, -whatever the animal might be, it was stone dead. - -They hurried to the fallen prey, and were almost as much disappointed -as the small boy is when he finds that his fish-hook has captured a -demonstrative crab instead of a good-natured chub. - -“Well,” the destroyer said, with a grim smile, “I have done what Steve -has often tried to do, but never did--_I have slain a grimalkin_!” - -“Cats have no business to prowl around here, and they deserve to be shot, -though we haven’t come all this distance to shoot them,” Henry said -peevishly. “But let us hide this hoary fellow; for if Steve should hear -of it, he might be tempted to box it up and send it home as your first -deer.” - -It would not be worth while to give the weary and fruitless tramp the -cousins took; it is sufficient to say that they shot nothing that a -civilized cook would take pride in preparing for the table. At last -Henry was fortunate enough to disable a brace of woodcocks, and after an -exciting chase they secured them, and then returned to their quarters. - -Next morning the entire party went hunting, resolved to kill something. -They penetrated far into the forest, talking as freely as if they were in -a desert or on the ocean. Consequently, they did not see much game. - -“Hist!” Mr. Lawrence suddenly exclaimed. “What enormous beast is that -yonder?” - -“It’s a bear?” Will cried with rapture. “A genuine bear!” - -“Are there bears here, in this part of the world?” Jim asked uneasily. -“Did we come to hunt bears?” - -“Of course we did; of course there are;” Henry said with disgust. “Jim, -I wish our good old professor could have you among his students. There -would be virgin soil, and you would make an apt student, I am sure.” - -“Yes, it is a bear,” George said emphatically. “A large bear, and -probably a ferocious one. There is the true bearish head, thick and -heavy; the cropped ears; the thick snout; and the long shaggy coat. It is -larger than even the one in the museum, isn’t it, Henry?” - -Henry thought it was. - -“I see the very place to plant a fatal shot,” George hinted. - -“Plant it, then,” Steve growled. - -George, eager to slay the monster, fired quickly. - -The smoke cleared away, and there lay the bear, in exactly the same -position. - -“It is stone-dead, surely enough!” Will said, as though surprised. - -“No; I fancied I saw it move a little,” Mr. Lawrence said. - -“Then let us all fire a round of balls into it,” Steve suggested. - -“I won’t have it riddled with shot!” George said angrily. “I saw just -where to hit it, and I hit it there, and it’s dead.” - -But his wish was disregarded, and some of the hunters cowardly fired. -Then they advanced cautiously, still fearing that the bear might have -life enough in him to give battle. But the “bearish head” was not raised; -the “thick snout” was not dilated. - -Steve, who was ahead, suddenly gasped out a plaintive “Oh.” Then the -others also saw. The sun shone through the trees, and left a peculiar -shadow on the grass and brushwood. That was the bear. - -“Let us clap this bear into the museum,” Stephen presently observed. - -The disgusted hunters concluded to separate, and meet at a certain time -and place, if they didn’t get lost or eaten up. - -Will wandered off alone, and shot scores of useful birds and animals--not -useful to him, as a hunter, but useful in the economy of nature. But -after one shot had been thus thrown away, a yell of anger and terror rang -through the forest, and with his heart beating time to his footsteps, -Will hurried in the direction of that yell. - -He soon came up to a man, sitting on a fallen tree, distorting his -features, and nursing his finger in his mouth, with a gurgling noise, -peculiar to a sobbing school-boy trying to soothe the pain inflicted by a -hasty-tempered wasp. - -“Hello, there!” cried this man. “Did you shoot that bullet?” - -“Yes, I have just discharged my gun,” Will answered. “Did--did it hit -you, sir? If so, I am extremely sorry, for, I assure you, I had no -intention--” - -“That’ll do!” broke in the wounded man, removing his finger for a -moment. “It is plain enough that _you_ are no hunter,” contemptuously. “A -genuine hunter doesn’t go cracking around like a boy with a pop-gun, nor -talk like as if he was writing to the post-master general. But, I say, do -you know what you have done? You have smashed my little finger!” - -“What? Are you really hurt? Did the ball strike your finger?” - -“Of course it did,” angrily; “and it’ll be the dearest bullet you ever -bought! I tell you, I’m sick of having city chaps tearing through our -woods, and scaring the deer and things, and if they keep it up much -longer, the whole population’ll be shot off. Oh, cracky, but my finger -smarts! I was never shot before.” - -“Let me see your wound,” Will said. - -But the “child of nature” showed no disposition to let Will examine his -injured member, and Will was both amused and relieved to hear him make -the following observation: “No, it ain’t so much the finger that troubles -me; it’ll soon heal; but I had a bully good silver ring on it, that I -found in an old dust-heap, and that there bullet has busted it.” - -Then the shooter stepped up to the rustic, saying: “Come, I must see -your finger. If it is badly hurt I will bind it up for you; I have the -materials all ready in my pockets.” - -“Well, _you_ are quite right in carrying rags, and salve, and thread, and -pins, and soft cotton, and strings, and such trash, always stuffed in -your pockets, for you look like as if you might blow your head off any -minute,” the wounded man insultingly said, as he got a nearer view of -Will. - -Without further delay he submitted his finger to Will’s examination. Will -presently observed: “I think your strong silver ring saved the finger, -if not the entire hand, from a severe wound, as the bullet struck its -ornamental carvings and then glanced. In a day or so your finger will -be as sound as ever. Well, I’m sorry I hurt you, but I must be off. -Good-day.” - -“Now, just wait a minute,” said the man with the silver ring. “You don’t -know how much I think of a good ring. I’m a very affectionate feller, and -as there’s nothing else for me to take to, I think a heap of a good ring. -And this one’s ruined and busted now. It may be ever so long before I can -get as good a one--and you made fun of it, too! I say, what did you say -about ‘carvings.’” - -“But the ring saved your hand,” Will persisted. - -“I don’t say nothing about that; but your bullet has spoilt my ring, and -I mean to have the worth of it. Do you understand that? I ask for the -worth of it.” - -“Certainly; how much is your ring worth?” - -“Eh? Well, I don’t know; it was a pretty valuable ring. How high will you -go?” - -Poor Will was becoming tired. He longed to leave the barbarian’s company, -and was fumbling in his pocket for a small gold piece that was there, -when a rustling in the underwood drew his attention. - -“Wumblers! There’ll be another bullet here next! Whoop! here comes -another hunter full drive! Oh! cracky, there’s buck after him! Lemme see -your gun, and I’ll show you how to knock ’em over.” - -This was quite true. Romantic Marmaduke had stumbled on the fresh track -of a deer, and following on, had soon come up with it. - -So much he freely confessed to his inquiring fellow-hunters. But how -the deer came to give chase--whether he showed the white feather at the -critical moment, or whether he chanted poetry to the hunted creature, and -so infuriated it past endurance--is a question which he could not, or -would not, answer. - -Will’s heart beat fast. Here was a large deer within range of his rifle. -If he should kill it on the spot he would achieve a valiant deed, as well -as put an end to Marmaduke’s ignominious flight. - -“Lemme see you gun,” the man said eagerly. - -Will did not choose to comply with his request, but levelled his rifle at -the approaching animal, and fired. - -While hunting the last two days, he had suffered so many disappointments -that he himself was perhaps somewhat surprised to see the deer plunge -forward and gasp out his life in a short but awful agony. - -“Good for you, old feller; you can shoot some, after all!” the forester -ejaculated. - -Marmaduke stopped his flight, saw Will, heaved a sigh, and said -pathetically, “It is hard to see the noble beast cut off in all his pride -and strength.” - -“Yes, but better than to suffer from his fury, I hope;” Will replied. -“But how under the sun did the chase begin?” he asked, glancing from his -rifle to the deer with intense satisfaction. - -But the chased one was reticent on that point, as stated above; and to -evade an answer, he turned to the man with the marred silver ring, and -asked, “What gentleman is this?” - -“What was it you said about cutting up the buck, just now, stranger?” -this gentleman eagerly inquired. “If you’re going to cut him up, I’ll -help you; and for my share I’ll take a haunch.” - -Alas! Though forest-born and familiar with woodland scenes and noble -deer, this man had not a poetic soul, and he interpreted Marmaduke’s -beautiful apostrophe as a wish that the deer should be cut up! - -“_Your_ share! What have _you_ to do with it?” Marmaduke inquired, coming -down to the things of this world with startling abruptness. - -“Well, this here feller went and shot me; and I’m going to help you cut -up your deer; and for all my trouble and suffering I only ask for a -haunch. I’ll have it, too!” determinedly. - - - - -_Chapter XLI._ - -HOW WILL LOST HIS DEER. - - -Marmaduke now demanded and received a brief explanation of affairs. - -Seeing a way out of the difficulty, he pointed obliquely over the injured -man’s shoulder, and said, “Will, there is a plump and sweet partridge in -that tree;--no, lower down;--further on;--hadn’t you better shoot it for -him?” - -After a moment’s deliberation the man who loved a good silver ring agreed -to be satisfied with the partridge. - -Yet an evil smile curved his lips--a smile that foreboded mischief to -something--perhaps to the partridge. - -Will had no sooner fired than a howl of awful agony burst from the man’s -lips, and having spread his huge hands over the region where the ignorant -suppose their vitals are situated, he bowed his body downwards, and there -passed over his face a look of suffering that, in sublime tragedy, almost -equalled the frightful spasms so graphically portrayed in our patent -medicine almanacs. - -_Almost_--nothing can quite come up to the patent medicine almanacs in -that respect. - -With a voice that was appalling in its unrestrained vehemence, he fell -to delivering hideous ecphoneses,--too hideous, in fact, to be repeated -here,--and then gasped faintly, “You’ve done it now!” - -Poor Will! He was nearly crazed with grief. - -“Oh!” he groaned, “have I killed him? Have I taken a fellow-creature’s -life? Has my hastiness at last had a fatal result?” - -“Oh,” Marmaduke murmured, “how could Will’s ball glance so as to enter -that man’s body?” - -For several seconds the two unlucky hunters stood perfectly still, held -to the spot by devouring horror and anguish. - -During this time, the forester seemed to be undergoing exquisite pain; -but presently, with an effort worthy of a hero, he struggled to an erect -posture, and said, with a faltering tongue: “Young men--perhaps--I’m, -I’m gone.--I--can’t blame--you, sir;--a man--can’t tell--how his -ball--may glance.--Go,--both of you,--go--and get a--doctor.--Bring -a--doctor--you,” to Will; “and you--” to Marmaduke, “go east--from--from -here--half a-mile--to my--father’s.--I--I--can stay--alone.” - -“Poor, poor fellow,” said Will, with tears in his eyes. “Can you stay -here alone and suffer till we come back?” - -“Yes,” groaned the wounded man. “I can--stay-till--the -other--fellow--finds my--father.--It won’t--be long.” - -“Let me at least see your wound before I go,” Will entreated. “Perhaps I -could ease you, or even save your life.” - -“Go! oh go!” urged the wounded man. “I’ll--hold out--if you are--quick.” - -Then the two hunters strode sorrowfully away in their different -directions--Will with a vague notion that the nearest surgeon lived -several miles to the south--Marmaduke thinking that the “peasants” of his -country are a hardy and noble race. - -They were barely out of sight on their errands of mercy when a change -most magical came over the sufferer’s face. Two minutes before, and -his features wore the tortured look of an invalid “before taking our -prescription;” now they wore the happy smirk of a convalescent, relieved -from all pain, “after taking our prescription.” - -Then, villain-like, he muttered: “I hardly expected to make so much out -of the two fools--a whole deer! That’s striking it pretty rich! I don’t -shoot a deer in a month; but this is just as good, for I can make off -with this one at my leisure. Well, I reckoned that little ‘wound’ would -work.” - -A horrible chuckle escaped from his lips, he sprang to his feet as sound -in health as a person could expect to be, walked up to Will’s deer, and -coolly began to drag it away into the depths of the forest. All that part -of the forest was known to him, and he soon dragged his prey into a place -of concealment where its rightful owners would hardly find it. - -“There,” he muttered, “I guess I have dragged the old feller far enough. -He’s safe enough here till I can take him home. Now, they haven’t been -gone long, and if they keep on, they may get lost; and it’s mean to have -’em get lost on a fool’s errand. Perhaps this’ll bring ’em back on a keen -run. How they will hunt for me and the deer!” - -As the thief spoke he retraced his steps a little way, discharged a -pistol concealed on his person, and then slunk back to his hiding-place. -Yes, he was so humane that he did not wish the two deluded hunters to -bring succor to a man who did not need it. - -The report of his pistol had the desired effect. Both Will and Marmaduke -heard it; and fearing that the poor wretch was attacked by some foe, -human or otherwise, they hastened back to the scene of bruises and -wounds, meanness and trickery. - -Of course they found nothing, and, although they were heroes, they were -unable to track the knave to his hiding-place. Will was furious. He had -felt so grieved at having wounded a fellow-creature; so proud, a moment -before, of having been the first to kill a deer; and now he naturally and -correctly concluded that the “wound” was a mere ruse on the rogue’s part, -in order the more surely to get possession of the deer. - -“Will, I took the fellow to be a very fair example of our peasants; an -honest, ingenuous and hardy forester. How bitterly I am deceived.” - -Will replied: “Well, _I_ took the fellow for a hypocrite and a downright -knave from the first. It isn’t so much the deer,--though that is really -a great loss for me,--but the depravity that the man has shown, that -grieves me. And I was just going to give him a new dollar gold piece -to squander his affection on! But, Marmaduke,” with a flash of his old -jovialness, “don’t talk about _peasants_ and _peasantry_, for free -America knows no such word. Marmaduke, I’m afraid your trip to Europe in -the summer filled your mind with some ridiculous notions. Shake them off, -and be yourself again.” - -“Well, Will, you are in the right. Now, suppose that we look for the -partridge, for I believe your ball killed it.” - -“No, Marmaduke. I missed it, for I saw it fly away untouched, just as -that man doubled himself up and began to howl.” - -“Then you took it for granted that he received the ball?” - -“Yes. Well, it is useless to remain here, so let us hurry on to the -trysting-place, due west, if we want to meet the others. But if I -don’t unearth that wretch to-morrow, it will be because--because his -ill-gotten deer poisons him!” - -Having taken this dreadful resolution, the two set off for the -rendezvous, where they arrived just in time to meet with the other -hunters. - -“Ho!” cried Steve, when he observed Will’s gloomy looks. “Ho, old fellow! -your face _indicates_ a _moody mood_.” - -“Well,” snarled Will, “have you shot some school-boy’s grammar, and read -it through?” - -Then he narrated his encounter with the man in the forest. - -It was received with plaintive cries of astonishment, anger, and horror. - -“Well, Will,” said Steve after the first paroxysms of rage had subsided, -“I gather two morals--morals full of instruction, too--from your -narrative.” - -As no one inquired what these “morals” might be, the speaker was obliged -to resume his discourse rather awkwardly. But no one could cow Steve into -silence. - -“Yes, boys; two morals----” - -A pause--in vain. - -“Two morals, I say. In the first place, when you are in a forest like -this, always protect the fourth member of the left paw with a sculptured -silver ring. In the second place, never fire at a partridge when a -jewelled rustic occupies a log some thirty feet southeast of your left -ear, as Marmaduke hints this one did. It is as dangerous as a nest of -hornets on the North Pole.” - -“Don’t be so atrocious,” said Charles. “In my mind’s eye, I can look -back eight years or so, and see a battered-knuckled urchin called Steve -Goodfellow, wriggling on a bench in a certain Sunday School, and turning -idly round and round a _beautiful_ silver ring, that adorned first one -and then another of his fingers.” - -Steve sat down so suddenly that he burst the paper collar around his -neck. However, he took no notice of this, but changed the subject and -diverted the boys’ attention by saying: “I say, Will and Marmaduke, -George, as well as you, has had disappointments to-day. I shouldn’t -relate this little anecdote, if George hadn’t given me permission; -because it would be too mean for even _me_, and _that_ is saying a good -deal. O dear! I’m sorry, boys; but I can’t help it!” - -“Well, Steve, there is one thing in your favor,” Charles said soothingly. -“You always confine what you are pleased to call your _meanness_ to us -boys; and we can survive it all--in fact, we expect it from you, old -fellow.” - -“Thank you, Charley; you can see below the surface, and see just how -heavily and guiltily my great heart beats when I attempt to insult -over you boys. But now for my anecdote. George and I meet in a ‘bowery -glade.’ Though we glare wickedly round in search of prey, I see nothing -but Nature’s loveliness. George espies a phenomenon high up in a monster -of the forest, ‘an old primeval giant,’ whose branching top fanned the -blue sky. In other words, he espies something queer, perched high in a -grand old fir. It is large; it is strange; it moves. ‘It is a creature -of the air,’ thinks George. ‘It _is_! It is a bird new to science! Oh, -what pleasing discovery do I make? Am I about to cover myself with -glory? I am! I feel it in my inmost heart, my heart of heart. Steve,’ he -continues, ‘I know my destiny--the pursuit of science. My fate is now -marked out; I shall write _ornithologies_! Now I must shoot this percher -down; I cannot climb to catch it, though more’s the pity.’ O boys, it -was, alas! a bird’s nest! A great big bird’s nest! And when he fired, it -was no more. This is my mournful tale: this is my anecdote.” - -“Steve, don’t relate any more such anecdotes,” said Charles, “or you will -burst your ‘great heart’ as you have burst your paper collar.” - -“Steve, did George tell you _how_ you might relate that incident?” Will -asked suspiciously. “But, Steve,” he added gravely, “be good enough to -tell me what you have shot to-day to make you so merry.” - -“With the greatest pleasure,” Steve replied grimly. “_I shot the barrel -of my gun all to pieces._” - -“What?” Will asked, at a loss to take Steve’s meaning. - -“In other words,” Mr. Lawrence said, “Stephen overcharged his gun, and it -burst--burst with a vengeance.” - -“It seems to me that a good many things have burst, or failed to burst, -to-day,” George muttered. - -Then they proceeded to their camp,--as Marmaduke loved to call the -miserable shanty that barely afforded them shelter,--affecting to carry -their guns and their almost empty game-bags as though they were veteran -hunters. - -Each one was thinking about the deer which was rightfully Will’s, and -each one felt that the affair was not over yet. - - * * * * * - -It is with some real reluctance that the scene with the forester is -introduced, because romancers take altogether too much delight in -parading villainy; but at one time this scene seemed, in a measure, to be -necessary to the construction of this story. Afterwards the writer had -not the moral courage to leave it out. - -Most readers can remember that in almost all novels that they have read, -(excepting, of course, the “intensely interesting” ones,) there was at -least one chapter which, taken by itself, seemed tiresome and useless; -but which, woven in skilfully, and taken in connection with the whole, -was necessary to the perfection of the novel. - -After writing these two paragraphs, in order to disarm all hostile -criticism, we shall imagine a conscientious reader’s referring to this -chapter, after he has carefully perused the entire story, and saying, -with a horrible fear that his usual insight into things has forsaken him: -“Well, I can’t see the particular need and worth of this chapter,” while -we furnish this consoling information--“_Neither can we!_” - -Now, carpers, if you can apprehend the meaning of all this, draw out your -engines and bring them into play. - -Another point: Let not the conscientious reader rack his brains in a -vain endeavor to discover what particular “follies,” or “foibles,” are -attacked in this chapter, for the writer himself does not know; though -he is morally certain that he has not written these two chapters just to -injure the trade in silver rings. - - - - -_Chapter XLII._ - -WHAT CURIOSITY COST THE HUNTERS. - - -Next morning the mighty Nimrods breakfasted, in imagination, on their -deer; and then struck out into the forest, resolved to unearth the rogue -who had gulled poor Will. - -But soon the fickle hunters concluded to secure the services of an -officer of the law, and on reaching the edge of the forest they were -directed where to find such a person. - -They came up with this man in his orchard, but whether he was gathering -apples or only eating them they could not guess. He listened patiently to -the story of their wrongs (they did not give it _exactly_ as it happened, -but they did not falsify it at all), and then told them that they might -go on with their hunt and not trouble their heads about it further, for -he would soon overhaul the villain. - -The hunters lingered irresolutely, but the man seemed to know his own -business best, and with a peremptory “good day” he scrambled into a -patriarchal apple-tree, and fell to shaking down his apples so recklessly -and disrespectfully that they thought it prudent to withdraw. - -“I will catch the rascal myself, after all,” Will declared. - -“Yes, let us penetrate far into this old forest,” Marmaduke added. “If we -explore its length and breadth, perhaps we shall find some trace of our -game.” - -“Perhaps, if we set to work in earnest, we shall be more successful -hunting for man than we have been for beast,” the young man who used to -be called the Sage observed. - -With that the hunters struck out boldly. - -“Boys,” said Charles, (they still used the familiar appellation of former -years,) “did any of you ever read a romance in which a scout figured as -the hero, or in which the hero sometimes played the part of a scout, or -spy?” - -“I have,” said two or three. - -“Well, how did they go about it?” Charles asked. - -“Oh,” said Stephen, who took it upon himself to answer, “they always wore -leather breeches, moccasins, and shot-belts; they always struck the trail -at once, smoked the chiefs’ peace-pipe, and slew the common Indians; they -always followed their trade _alone_,--or if they had a mate, _both_ went -alone,--and chewed home-made tobacco with the few tusks still left them; -they always tomahawked deserters, other people’s spies, or scouts, and -wild-cats; and finally, they always found out secrets that got them into -trouble, but lived to receive a gold snuff-box on the occasion of the -hero’s wedding. What they did with the gold snuff-box I don’t know; for -there the romancer, being too much exhausted to write ‘The End,’ which -has six letters, always wrote ‘Finis,’ which has only five.” - -“Thank you, Steve,” said Charles. “But according to that, it is hopeless -for us to act the orthodox spy, so we shall have to go on blindly and -take our chances.” - -And they did go on blindly--so blindly, that five hours later, when -hunger began to show her hand, they perceived that they were lost! Lost -in a vast forest, which, for all they knew, was infested with robbers! - -“It is strange that we have not travelled in a circle,” George mused. -“You all know, of course, that when a man loses his way, it is a -fundamental principle that he should travel in a circle.” - -“Well, if we keep on diligently, probably we shall have the pleasure of -finding that we are travelling in a circle,” Charles commented. - -“I tell you what it is, boys;” Steve said, making use of an expression -that had left his lips at least once daily since his twelfth year; “I -tell you what it is, boys; now that we are lost, let us make the most of -it. I have had a hankering to get lost ever since I cried myself to sleep -over the mournful tale of the ‘Babes in the Woods;’ and now I am going to -enjoy the novel sensation of being lost! Hurrah!” - -And in the exuberance of his spirits careless Steve plucked off his hat -and flung it aloft so adroitly that it caught in a tree and dangled there -tantalizingly, quite out of his reach. However, a ball from Charles’s -rifle induced it to fall. - -“That is the most useful thing I have shot, Steve,” he confessed -dejectedly; “and if it had been a thing of life, I should have terminated -that life,” pointing to a ghastly hole in the crown of the hat. - -“Don’t be so much moved, Steve,” George observed; “for you may fare worse -than even the ‘Babes in the Woods.’ Poor little creatures, they died -happy, at least.” - -“Oh,” said Marmaduke, also delighted to think he was actually lost, “we -can live very well for a few days in this magnificent old forest. We -can, of course, procure all the animal food we shall need, together with -roots, herbs, and berries--no, it’s too late for berries. A man can live -on fish, fruit, and roots, without injury to his system; and in a few -days we shall find our way out, or else be rescued by others.” - -“Very good,” said Will; “but where are we to catch the fishes?” - -“Oh,” Steve said promptly, “Marmaduke bases his argument on the -supposition that whenever a hunter gets lost, he and a ‘pure stream,’ -stocked with fish, presently fall into each other’s arms.” - -“Speaking of _rescue_,” said Charles, “many a poor lost hunter is -_rescued_ from his sufferings by wild beasts that devour him.” - -“It is sheer nonsense to talk of becoming lost here,” Will declared -dogmatically, “because this forest is not extensive enough for any -sensible man to remain lost in it for any great length of time. I -see daylight to the north, now; though where we are is more, I must -acknowledge, than I can tell.” - -“My compass persists that that light comes from the west,” Stephen soon -said; “but of course, Will, you are too sensible a man to get lost or -make such a mistake, therefore my compass has become demoralized.” - -Will took out his compass, looked at it very hard, and then pocketed it -with a sigh. - -The hunters moved towards the light, and soon found themselves in a -clearing of some extent. A strong log-hut stood in the centre of this -clearing, and divers emblems of civilization and occupation were strewed -around it. What seemed most strange, to even the most inattentive of the -hunters, was certain implements which are seldom seen in the midst of a -forest. These were such implements as are used in the construction of -railroads. - -“Hello!” yelled Steve, glancing at all these implements, “hello! we -have stumbled on a new railroad, have we? Well, we ought to be able to -find our way out now pretty easily; for railroads don’t spring up in -wildernesses.” - -“Yes, we are just within the woods; outside we shall find the railroad -and civilization,” Will returned. “Well, I don’t see much romance in -getting lost for an hour or so.” - -“Hello, what is this?” Steve cried suddenly. “Here is a neat little tube, -something like a cartridge. Now, _is_ it a cartridge?” - -“Be careful, Steve,” Will cautioned. “There is no knowing what dangerous -things may be lying about here. I remember, when I was a pretty little -boy, my father told me horrible stories about gun-cotton. He made it out -to be a frightful explosive, in order to deter me from meddling with -things strange to me. Now, perhaps--” - -But at this point the prudent one was interrupted by a shout of laughter -from Charles. “Will,” he said, “what do you mean by ‘a pretty little boy?’ -Do you mean, when you were a handsome, though diminutive, urchin, or -simply, when you were rather small?” - -George now drew on his knowledge, and prepared to enlighten them. -“Gun-cotton, boys,” he said, “is a composition which con--” - -Doubtless George would have given a very lucid explanation of the nature -and virtues of gun-cotton; but at this point, Steve, who still held the -little “tube,” said impatiently, “Now, what do I care about gun-cotton? -There is no cotton here, and as for a gun--go to grass! This tube can be -made to fit the blunt end of my pencil, very neatly; and what is more, it -shall be put there.” - -“Why, Steve, I didn’t give you credit for being so sensible,” Henry -observed. “I didn’t believe you were studious enough to carry a pencil.” - -“Oh,” Charles ingeniously replied, “Steve doesn’t carry a pencil for -studious purposes; I doubt whether he ever takes notes; but whenever -he finds a clean and smooth surface,--such as a new shingle or a solid -fence built of newly planed boards,--he draws his name, or a mythological -figure, or the Phantom Ship, on it, with dazzling flourishes.” - -“Draws his name, eh?” asked Henry. - -“Exactly.” - -“Well,” sighed Steve, “it is one of the few things I can do well.” - -With that he took out his penknife. - -He was not the only one that had found one of the little tubes. For -some minutes Jim had been silently filling his coat pocket with them, -intending to take them home. It is not easy for us to guess his object in -doing this, but perhaps the poor fellow, despairing of shooting anything, -wished to bear away some trophy, or souvenir, of this hunt. - -George, seeing all this, and that his proffered explanation was -contemptuously rejected, resolved to make an “analysis;” but, acting on -the spur of the moment, he went about it in a very puerile way. He set -one of the mysterious little tubes on a flat stone, then seized a smaller -stone, and prepared to grind his particular tube to powder. - -Truly, here was Genius laboring under difficulties! Here was a scientific -philosopher endeavoring to solve the appalling mystery by utterly -annihilating a tube! But his hand was so unsteady with the awfulness of -the revelations he was about to make that (fortunately for him) his first -blow overshot the mark, and he paused before aiming a second. - -Meanwhile Mr. Lawrence, Charles, and Will, expostulated in vain. Henry, -not dreaming of danger, looked on with great curiosity, and was almost -tempted to examine some of the mysterious little tubes for himself. - -All this happened simultaneously? Certainly. Just as George struck his -fruitless blow, Steve began to carve out the ornament for his pencil. - -Reader, do not look upon this scene as savoring of levity. _This_ -incident is true in every particular, a party of would-be hunters having -experimented with little cartridge-like tubes just as our heroes did -here. The story as told by them is the same in substance with this, -though, of course, we have touched it up a little here and there. - -Having thus kept the reader in suspense long enough, it is now in order -to return to Stephen. He had barely begun to “dig out the stuff,” as he -phrased it, when a loud report startled the eight hunters. Steve’s tube -had exploded with more violence than any fire-cracker he ever handled. - -Appalled, his penknife fell unheeded, and he gazed at the others with a -silly, bewildered, and horrified expression of countenance, that at any -other time would have provoked a roar of laughter. - -George’s second blow was never struck, but springing to his feet, he -fixed his eyes on Will with a look of extreme horror. - -Will’s actions, in fact, attracted the attention of all. As soon as the -tube exploded he sprang high into the air, and then fell to bounding -about like a harlequin or a piece of black rubber, shouting frantically: -“Oh, my head’s off! my head’s off! my head’s off!” - -His head was certainly not off, though blood was streaming down his -cheeks. - -“Oh, Will,” groaned Steve in agony, “what is the matter? Oh, Will, speak! -Have I killed you?” - -“My head’s off! My head’s off!” was Will’s only answer. - -“Nonsense! your head is all right!” Uncle Dick said sharply. - -But now Will struck another note, groaned “Oh, my knee!” and fell down in -a swoon. Foolish fellow, he had danced till his knee slipped out of joint. - -(N.B.--O youth, let this be a warning against dancing.) - -Mr. Lawrence and George anxiously bent over him; and, for the first time, -Charles and Stephen looked at each other. - -“Your face!” shrieked Steve. - -“Your fingers!” gasped Charles. - -Then poor Steve perceived that his thumb and first and second fingers -were shattered. It was a sickening sight, and he now felt a severe pain -in them. - -From his fingers Stephen again looked at Charles. Several small pieces of -the metal had pierced the flesh around the eyes, making painful, but very -slight, wounds. - -At that instant Jim set up his peculiar cry of terror. Poor wretch, his -terror and his mode of expressing it still clung to him; but it was a -hundred times more ridiculous in the man than in the boy. The explosion -(if it may be called so) and Will’s amusing performance, cut short by his -sad accident, had kept him quiet up to this time, but now he broke out -into loud and plaintive cries. This time, however, he was not a prey to -“the chills.” - -“Oh, boys,” he wailed, “I have some of them--a lot of them--in my pocket! -Oh, boys, they will explode there! They will explode and tear us all to -pieces!” And here his voice increased in volume, and rose higher and -higher, faster than even the scale of C. “Help me, some one, for _I_ -can’t get ’em out!--Oh! I explode!” - -“Console yourself, Jim,” Henry laughed; “I’ll help you to disgorge them.” - -“Have you any about you?” Jim quavered. - -“No,” said Henry; and with that he took the explosive little tubes out of -Timor’s pocket. - -“Boys, Mr. Lawrence, I know now what these horrible, cartridge-like -tubes are,” George here observed. “They are _dynamite_--a new explosive, -very useful to fire other explosives, I believe. I have read about them -lately, but I never saw one before, and don’t know much about their -properties, except that--” - -“George,” Steve interrupted, “if you had told us all this ten minutes -ago, you would have spared us much annoyance and suffering. Excuse me, -George, but this has roiled my emotions more than anything that ever -happened. Yes, you have knowledge of sundry curious and useful facts, I -admit; but that knowledge is not turned to account till the mischief is -done. Some day, when you see me all torn to pieces, you will discover -that what I took for a pretty music-box was an infernal machine; and then -you will chuckle over your profundity, but I shall not hear you.” - -“Well, they had no business to leave dynamites scattered about so -loosely,” Charles said, his eyes tingling just enough to make him surly. - -“Had we any business to meddle with them?” George growled. - -“Oh,” sighed Will, now revived, “I’m afraid I made an egregious fool of -myself; and I was probably the least hurt of all. Some pieces entered my -ears, cheek, and neck;--an ordinary hurt for a little boy;--but through -my foolishness I have disjointed my knee!” - -Marmaduke now joined them. He had taken the affair most unconcernedly, -and strolled off to make a reconnaissance. - -“Boys,” he began, “we are within four or five rods of a railroad, surely -enough; and we have been meddling with the company’s dynamite. But if -we had observed the notice on the other side of the little log-hut, or -store-house, we should certainly have been more careful; for there, on -the door, is written, in red-chalky letters, ‘Powder Magazine.’” - -“Marmaduke, it seems to me that your style is not so pure as of yore,” -Steve grinned, in spite of his pain. “The animals in this forest have -corrupted it. ‘Red-chalky-letters,’ forsooth!” - -“I found, also,” Marmaduke continued, passing by Stephen’s taunt, “that -the shortest route to a surgeon’s is due east, through the forest. We can -easily reach him by following our compasses.” - -“Did you inquire of some one outside?” George asked. - -“Yes, George, I had a talk with a man there. Now, Steve and Will must -have their hurts dressed as soon as may be; so let us start. Will will -have to be carried, of course.” - -Steve shuddered. The name _surgeon_ had an unpleasant sound; it grated -his ears. Then he perceived that Marmaduke had been caring for his -comfort, and his conscience was stung with remorse. Acting on the impulse -of his better nature, he strode up to Marmaduke, grasped his hand, and -murmured: “Old fellow, you must forgive me, and not mind anything I say; -for I don’t mean it, I assure you. It is too bad for me to be continually -jeering at you in particular, Marmaduke, and from to-day I will try not -to do it again.” - -Notwithstanding Steve’s protestation that he did not mean what he said, -Marmaduke saw he was in earnest now, and replied: “Say no more about it, -Steve, for each of us has his little peculiarities. Now, sit down here, -beside me and I’ll bind up your hurt for you.” - -Then the two sat down together, and Marmaduke took off the handkerchief -which Stephen had hastily and clumsily wound round his thumb and fingers. -Abused Marmaduke had many gentle ways, and now he tore the handkerchief -into strips, and as neatly and carefully as a woman could have done it, -bound up each hurt separate, Steve awkwardly trying to help him. - -This incident of binding up his hurts so kindly touched Stephen’s -heart, and from that day the two have been firm friends. Stephen is now -Marmaduke’s sworn defender; and if any person brings up the latter’s -romantic notions with a view to make him appear ridiculous, Stephen will -say something so sarcastic that the aggressor will wince and immediately -speak of something else. - -Meanwhile the others were taking care of Charles and Will. - - - - -_Chapter XLIII._ - -THINGS BEGIN TO GET INTERESTING. - - -Reader, do not turn faint with disgust at these heart-rending details, -nor imagine that the writer is a half-reclaimed desparado all the way -from “bleeding Kansas;” for this is just as it happened to those hunters -in the flesh. But if he ever attempts to narrate a true story again, he -will tone it down as well as touch it up. - -“Let us be thankful that it is no worse,” Mr. Lawrence said. “We have had -a narrow escape; for if Steve’s tube hadn’t exploded immediately, George -would certainly have struck his, and then we might all have been hurled -into eternity.” - -“Do you think Steve will lose his thumb and fingers?” George asked, -faintly. - -“Oh, I hope not!” Uncle Dick said, fervently. Then dolefully: “I am -afraid I shall have a heavy account to settle when I see your parents -again.” - -Then the sound hunters framed a rude litter, and laid Will on it gently. -George and Henry were to take turns with Mr. Lawrence and Marmaduke in -carrying him. And then the little procession passed solemnly through -the woods, with but little of that sprightliness which had hitherto -characterized the party. - -“I think this hunt will last me for a lifetime,” Will groaned. - -“I am afraid you will feel the effects of your hurt all the rest of your -life,” Uncle Dick sorrowfully rejoined. - -“There is _one_ consolation,” said Steve, who was walking with his well -arm linked in Marmaduke’s. “Next time we see a ‘dynamite’ we shall know -what it is, and probably I shall not care to make a plaything of one -again.” - -After a weary march due east, they came to a small cleared space, in -which stood a miserable hut. A faint line of smoke was curling out of the -roof, but no person was in sight. - -“Now, this isn’t another powder magazine,” said Steve; “therefore it must -be a ‘wayside hut.’ My wounds have made me thirsty, of course, and we can -probably get a drink here, whether any one is in or not, so I am going -in.” - -The others, also, felt thirsty; and Charles was advancing to knock at the -door, when Steve softly called him back. - -“Now, Charley,” he said, “I haven’t read romances for nothing, and if -there’s villainy any where in this forest, it’s here. Of course you’ve -all read that villains have what is called a ‘peculiar knock?’” - -“Yes,” whispered four out of the seven. - -“Well, I’m going to give a ‘peculiar knock’ on that door, with my sound -hand, and you must mark the effect it has. You needn’t grasp your -weapons; but just keep your eyes and ears open. Then will you do whatever -I ask?” - -“We will,” they said, smiling at Steve’s whim. - -Then the man who had not read romances for nothing stole softly to the -door, and knocked in a peculiar manner. - -Without a moment’s hesitation, a voice within said, “Well done!” - -Steve faced the others and winked furiously, while he reasoned rapidly -to this effect: “Evidently, here is a nest of knaves. The fellow on the -inside thinks his mate is in danger, and knocks to know whether it is -safe for him to enter.” - -Then the voice within asked uneasily, “Jim?” - -“Will,” said Marmaduke, leaning over the litter, “we are certainly on the -track of the man who stole your deer!” - -“Oh, I had forgotten all about the deer,” Will groaned. - -Steve started, but collected himself in a moment, and whispered to Jim, -“Come along Jim; this fellow wants to see you. Now be as bold as a lion; -blow your nose like a trumpet; and observe: ‘By the great dog-star, it’s -Jim; lemme in.’” - -Jim managed to do this; but he basely muttered that he wasn’t brought up -for a circus clown. - -“Then come in; the door isn’t locked;” the voice within said harshly, but -unhesitatingly. - -Stephen flung open the door and strode proudly into the hut, closely -followed by the others. One scantily furnished room, in a corner of which -a man lay on a bed, was disclosed. This man’s look of alarm at this -sudden entrance filled Steve with exultation. - -“What does all this mean? What do you want?” the occupant of the bed -demanded. - -“A glass of water,” said Steve. - -“Well, you can get a dish here, and there is a spring outside,” with an -air of great relief. - -“Is this the man?” Steve asked of Marmaduke. - -Marmaduke sadly shook his head. - -“I am very low with the small-pox,” said the unknown, “and those of you -who have not had it, nor have not been exposed to it, had better hurry -out into the open air.” - -This was said quietly--apparently sincerely. - -The hunters were struck with horror. It seemed as though a chain of -misfortunes, that would eventually lead them to destruction, was slowly -closing around them. Small-pox! Exposed to that loathsome disease! They -grew sick with fear! - -“Was it for this we went hunting?” Charles groaned. - -For a few moments the hunters lost all presence of mind; they neglected -to rush out of doors; they forgot that the sick man seemed wrapped in -suspicion; they forgot that they had gained admittance by stratagem; -Steve forgot that he was playing the hero. - -A cry of horror from Jim roused them from their torpor. - -“What a fool I am!” cried Henry, “I had the small-pox when I was a little -boy; and now, to prove or disprove this fellow’s statement, I will run -the risk of taking it again. The rest of you may leave the room or not, -just as fear, or curiosity, or thirst, or anything else, moves you. I -believe, however, that there is not the least danger of infection.” - -“No, no; come out!” Mr. Lawrence entreated, not wishing to be responsible -for any more calamities. “Come out, Henry, and leave the man alone.” - -“Believe me, Mr. Lawrence, I run no risk,” Henry declared. “I shall----” - -“Ha!” shrieked the sick man. “Lawrence? Did you say Law--” - -He stopped abruptly. But it was too late; he had betrayed himself. - -“Yes, my man; I said Lawrence;” Henry said, excitedly. “Come, now, -explain yourself. Say no more about _small-pox_--we are not to be -deceived by any such pretence.” - -The sick man looked Uncle Dick full in the face; groaned; shuddered; -covered his face with the bed clothes; and then, villain-like, fell to -muttering. - -After these actions, Jim himself was not afraid. - -“Mr. Lawrence, Will, all of you,” Henry said hoarsely, “I think your -mystery is about to be unriddled at last. This man can evidently furnish -the missing link in your history. He is either the secret enemy or an -accomplice of his.” Uncle Dick trembled. After all these years was the -mystery to be solved at last? - -Stephen’s hurt and Will’s knee were forgotten in the eagerness to hear -what this man had to say. All were familiar with Uncle Dick’s story, as -far as he knew it himself, and consequently all were eager to have the -mysterious part explained. The entire eight assembled round the bedside. - -After much inane muttering the sick man uncovered his head, and asked -faintly, “Are you Richard Lawrence?” - -“I am.” - -“Were you insane at one time, and do you remember Hiram Monk?” - -“Yes, I was insane, but I know nothing of what happened then.” - -“Well, I will confess all to you. Mr. Lawrence, I have suffered in all -these three years--suffered from the agony of remorse.” - -“Yes,” said Uncle Dick, with a rising inflection. - -“I will keep my secret no longer. But who are all these young men?” -glancing at the hunters. - -“They are friends, who may hear your story,” Uncle Dick said. - -“To begin with, I am indeed sick, but I have not the small pox. That was’ -a mere ruse to get rid of disagreeable callers.” - -At this Steve looked complacent, and Henry looked triumphant; the one -pleased with his stratagem, the other pleased with his sagacity. - -At that very instant quick steps were heard outside, and then a “peculiar -knock” was given on the door, which, prudently or imprudently, Steve had -shut. - -“It is a man who lives with me,” Hiram Monk said to the hunters. “We -shall be interrupted for a few minutes, but then I will go on.” Then -aloud: “You may as well come in, Jim.” - -If this was intended as a warning to flee, it was not heeded, for the -door opened, and a man whom Will and Marmaduke recognized as the rogue -who on the previous day had feigned a mortal wound in order to steal -their deer, strode into the hut. - -On seeing the hut full of armed men, he sank down hopelessly, delivered a -few choice ecphoneses, and then exclaimed: “Caught at last! Well, I might -’a’ known it would come sooner or later. They have set the law on my -track, and all these fellows will help ’em. Law behind, and what on earth -in front!--I say, fellows, who are you?” - -“Hunters,” Henry said laconicly. - -Then the new-comer recognized Will and Marmaduke, and ejaculated, “Oh, I -see; yesterday my ring was ruined, and now I’m ruined!” - -The officer of the law, whose nonchalance had provoked the hunters in the -forenoon, was indeed behind, and soon he, also, entered the hut, which -was now filled. - -“Just like a romance,” Steve muttered. “All the characters, good and bad, -most unaccountably meet, and then a general smash up takes place, after -which the good march off in one direction, to felicity, and the bad in -another, to infelicity--unless they shoot themselves. Now, I hope Hiram -and Jim won’t shoot themselves!” - -“Jim Horniss,” said the officer, “I am empowered to arrest you.” - -“I surrender,” the captured one said sullenly. “You ought to have -arrested me before. I’d give back the deer, if I could; but I sold it -last night, and that’s the last of it.” - -“That will do,” the officer said severely. - -Up to this time the writer has studiously masked his ignorance by -invariably speaking of this man as an officer of the law. It seems fated, -however, that his ignorance should sooner or later be manifested; and now -he declares that he is so utterly ignorant of Law, in all its forms, that -he does not know what that man was--he knows only that he was an officer -of the law. But for the benefit of those who are still more ignorant, it -may be stated that he is almost positive the man was neither a juryman, -nor a conveyancer, nor a plaintiff. - -The hunters now held a short conversation, and it was decided that Mr. -Lawrence and Henry should stay to hear what Hiram Monk had to say for -himself, but that the others should go on with Will and Steve to the -surgeon’s. - -The officer of the law thought it might be necessary for him to stay in -his official capacity, and so he took a seat and listened, while he fixed -his eyes on Jim Horniss. - -And the confession he heard was worth listening to. - -The hut was soon cleared of all save the five; and the six first -introduced to the reader were again together, and on their way to the -surgeon’s. - -“Well,” said Will, “it seems I have lost my deer; but I have the -comforting thought of knowing that the rascal will receive the punishment -he deserves.” - -“How strange it all is,” said Marmaduke, “that your uncle should stumble -on the solution of his mystery when he least expected it; and that you -could not find the thief when you looked for him, but as soon as you -quit, we made straight for his house.” - -“No,” Steve corrected good-humoredly, “that isn’t it; but as soon as I -took to playing the part of a hero of romance, ‘events came on us with -the rush of a whirlwind.’” - - - - -_Chapter XLIV._ - -IS THE MYSTERY SOLVED? - - -Leaving the wounded and the unwounded hunters to pursue their way through -the forest, we shall return to the hut and over-hear Hiram Monk’s -long-delayed confession. - -As soon as the door was shut on the six hunters, he began. His face was -turned towards Mr. Lawrence, but his eyes were fixed on his pillow, which -was hidden by the coverlet; and his punctuation was so precise, his style -so eloquent and sublime, and his story so methodical, complicated, and -tragical, that once or twice a horrible suspicion that he was reading the -entire confession out of a novel concealed in the bed, flashed across Mr. -Lawrence’s mind. - -If this dreadful thought should occur to the reader, he can mentally -insert the confession in double quotation marks. - -We are too humane to inflict the whole confession on the long-suffering -reader; this abridged version of it will be quite sufficient, as it -contains the main points. - - “Seventeen years ago, I was an official in K. Hospital. My - duties were to keep the record of the hospital; but still I - passed considerable time with the maniacs, as my influence with - those unhappy creatures was very great. I am a man of some - education and ability, I may say, without ostentation; and till - I met you, Mr. Lawrence, I was honesty itself. - - “You were brought to our hospital a friendless man and a - stranger; and it was rumored that you had been attacked by - thieves, who, however, failed to get possession of your - treasure. A great chest of gold and silver, labelled, ‘R. - Lawrence,’ to be retained till your friends or relatives could - be found, was brought and deposited in our magazine. It was a - most romantic story, a man travelling through the country with - a vast sum of money in a strong-box! - - “The demon entered into me, and I resolved to make it still - more mysterious. In a word, I resolved to appropriate your - fortune to my own use; and in order to do so the more easily - and safely, I set about destroying every clue to your identity. - All papers found on your person, which might lead to discovery, - I carefully burned. It was I who wrote an account of the affair - to the journals, and I purposely distorted your name beyond - recognition. This, of course, was considered a mere printer’s - blunder, and the ‘mistake’ was never rectified. - - “Here was a great step taken. I now flattered myself that none - of your friends could possibly trace you to our hospital, and - that all I had to do was to wait a short time, and then quietly - slip away with my ill-gotten riches. - - “But many difficulties lay in my way. Your bodily health - and strength gradually improved, though you still remained - disordered in intellect. Then, in order the better to work - out my plans, I caused myself to be appointed your especial - attendant, or keeper; and I made you to understand that you had - a large sum of money, of which your enemies sought to rob you, - deposited, for safe-keeping, in our vaults. With all a madman’s - pertinacity, you took hold of this idea, and eagerly listened - to all that I said. You ordered the chest of treasure to be - brought into your own apartment, and you became suspicious of - every one but me. - - “Here was another great point gained; and I now matured my plot - to get the money. I induced you to believe that you were soon - to be robbed, and that we must flee, as you were now strong - enough to quit the hospital at any time. I obtained leave - from the superintendent to go on a flying visit to a friend - of mine in another state, and I made all my arrangements to - depart openly. You were to have another keeper, of course; but - I plotted with you to return at night, and we would escape - together. I believed that the superintendent would never - suspect me,--at least, not till too late,--but would think that - you had eluded your new keeper’s vigilance in the night. - - “That afternoon I set out ostensibly for Frankfort in - Kentucky; but I remained in the neighborhood, and at night I - returned to keep my appointment with you. As I was perfectly - familiar with all the entrances into the hospital, as well - as with all their regulations, and as I had given you your - instructions prior to my feigned departure, we easily made our - escape with the chest of treasure. - - “And now I had you and all your money wholly in my power; I - could do what I pleased with you. But, to do myself justice, - I must add--no, I affirm positively--that I had no intention - of harming _you_. My design, matured beforehand, was to reach - a certain cave, establish you in it, make provision for your - subsistence and comfort, and then slip away with the hoards I - coveted. - - “I do not know whether we were pursued or not; but, if so, - we eluded the pursuers, and in due time arrived at the - cave, which, as I had supposed, would serve my purpose - admirably. Yes, it was an excellent place to desert you so - treacherously--an excellent place. - - “But we had barely arrived when you seemed to grow suspicious - of me. That must be stopped immediately, and I hastened to - make preparations for departure. I left you alone for a time, - went to the neighboring city, and engaged a trader to take - necessaries to a certain man who purposed living in ‘The - Cave,’ as it was called. I represented you as being deranged - and idiotic, but quite harmless, and charged him to deal - fairly with you, and keep his own counsel for a short time, - in which case all would be well. Then I returned to the cave, - and acquainted you with such of these facts as you might know. - That night I gathered up my own effects, as well as the stolen - money, and fled. - - “I did not suppose that you would remain long in the cave. On - the contrary, I supposed that through the trader, or by some - other means, your identity would soon be established. But I - wished to place myself beyond the reach of pursuit before that - should happen. To that end I had compacted with the trader; to - that end I now fled precipitantly. - - “My better nature returned for a moment, and I thought of - advertising your retreat, or even of calling upon your kinsmen. - But I was dissuaded from this by fears of incurring danger of - being apprehended by the superintendent of the hospital, whose - suspicions must, by this time, have been aroused. May I enquire - how long you remained in ‘The Cave,’ Mr. Lawrence?” - - “Ten years.” - - “Ten years! Then, indeed, I deserve the severest penalties that - the law can inflict! Ten years! I could not believe that from - other lips than yours! And that man knew you were there all - that time, and yet took no action to set you at liberty! But - no; I had told him that it was better so, and I suppose he took - it for granted that it was. Yes, he is guiltless in the matter. - - “To resume my confession. I escaped with the money intact, as - I imagined; but when I came to open the receptacle, far away - from you and the cave, I found, to my consternation, that more - than half of it was missing, and its room taken up with stones - and earth! You had evidently grown so suspicious of me as to - abstract the money and conceal it in the cave during my absence - in the city. That was the only solution of the mystery that - occurred to me. - - “How I raged! My punishment was beginning already. But I was - not softened; if I had dared, I should have returned to the - cave, and dug up every foot of ground within it. But I feared - that detectives were already on my track, and I hurried on, a - baulked and furious man. - - “Greater misfortune was yet to overtake me. The box containing - the stolen treasure was torn asunder in a steamboat explosion - on the Mississippi, and the treasure was scattered and lost - beyond recovery in the muddy waters. Thus I lost what remained - to me of the treasure, and was left, penniless, friendless, - homeless; a fugitive, an outcast. Since that time, I have lived - I know not how; at one time stricken with fever in the tropics; - at another time languishing in prison for some petty crime; - sick, persecuted, longing for death. Minions of the law often - pursued me for minor irregularities; but the secret of my one - great crime never came to light. In my distress I joined the - army, and hoped to find relief in fighting the battles of my - country--my country, to which I was an odious reproach! I often - thought of returning to the cave, to discover what had become - of you, and to make such restitution as lay in my power; but - I never had the moral courage to do so. For the last year, I - have lived in this forest, in fellowship with this man, James - Horniss. - - “I now surrender myself to outraged justice,--voluntarily, even - gladly,--for I can endure this way of life no longer. Forgive - me, if you can, Mr. Lawrence, for I have been tortured with - remorse in all these years.” - -The villain’s story was ended; and Uncle Dick, Henry, the officer of the -law, and Jim Horniss, fetched a sigh of relief. - -They felt extremely sorry for the sick man who had confessed so -eloquently and prolixly; but Mr. Lawrence was not so “tortured” with pity -as to plead for his release from punishment. In fact, he had nothing -to say against the law’s taking its course with him. However, he spoke -kindly. - -“Mr. Monk,” he said, “I forgive you freely, for it was my own foolishness -that led me into your power. As for the money, it seemed fated that it -should melt away, and to-day not one cent of it remains. I am glad to see -you in a better frame of mind, sir; but I must leave you now to see how -it fares with my nephew. Come, Henry.” - -“And _your_ story?” asked the confessor, with a curious and eager air. - -“Excuse me, Mr. Monk,” said Uncle Dick; “but _my_ story would seem -prosaic, exceedingly prosaic, after _yours_. Good day.” - -And he and Henry brutally strode out of the hut, leaving the ex-villain -“tortured” with curiosity. - -Thus those two villains, Hiram Monk and Jim Horniss, pass out of this -tale. - -If the reader thinks it worth while, he can turn back to the -twenty-second chapter, and compare the story which Mr. Lawrence told Mr. -Mortimer with the story narrated by Monk in this chapter. But seriously, -gentle reader, it is hardly worth while to compare the two. Time is -too precious to be fooled away in trying to comprehend the plots and -mysteries put forth in certain romances. - -Mr. Lawrence and Henry hurried on in the direction taken by their -fellow-hunters an hour before. - -“Mr. Lawrence,” said Henry, “I think I shall never go hunting again; I -consider it a wicked waste of gunpowder and shoe-leather.” - -“Yes, for a company of heedless innocents, who know little or nothing -about fire-arms, and still less about the habits of animals, it is all a -piece of foolishness;” Mr. Lawrence replied. “For those who are prudent -enough to keep out of danger, who can understand and enjoy hunting and -trapping, and go about it systematically, it is all very well.” - -Parents and guardians, accept this as a warning--not that your sons, -or wards, will clear up any appalling mystery by going hunting, but -that they will be far more likely to destroy themselves than to return -burdened with game. - - - - -_Chapter XLV._ - -THE LAST BLUNDER.--A LAST CONVERSATION. - - -To the heart-felt joy of the entire party, the surgeon declared that, by -taking great care, Steve would not lose his thumb and fingers, though -they might be stiff and mis-shaped for life. - -As to Will’s knee, that was really a serious matter, and he would -probably suffer more or less with it to his dying day. This was appalling -to poor Will, who was so fond of physical exertion, but he bore it as -bravely as he could. - -As for the cuts made by the flying pieces, the surgeon regarded them -with unutterable disdain. “A schoolboy,” he said, “would chuckle over -such hurts, and make the most of them while they lasted; but he wouldn’t -degrade himself by bellowing--unless his sister happened to dress them -with vitriol. But if a piece had entered an eye, now, there would have -been a tale to tell.” - -And yet those hurts, slight as they were, had frightened Will so much -that he had injured himself for life. - -After all their wounds had been dressed, the Nimrods wended their way -back to their humble cabin, still carrying Will, of course. As they -went along they naturally conversed. Seeing that it is their last -conversation, we deliberately inflict the whole of it on the hapless -reader. However, the hapless reader cannot be forced to read it all. - -“Let us have a little light on the subject, as the bloody-minded king -said when he dropped a blazing lucifer on the head of a disorderly noble -of his,” Steve observed, as they left the surgeon’s. - -“What are you driving at now, Steve?” Charles inquired. - -“The confession made by Monk, if Mr. Lawrence has no objections.” - -“Certainly;” said uncle Dick. “Henry, you can give it better than I can; -do so.” - -“I wish, with all my heart, that I had taken it down,” said Henry, “for I -consider it the best thing I ever heard. That man is a born romancer; but -he wasted his talents keeping the records of his hospital, and afterwards -dodging the ‘minions’ and his own conscience. However, I’ll give it as -well as I can.” - -The six, who had not heard it, listened attentively--even Will ceased to -moan, in his eagerness to hear every word. - -“What an extraordinary story!” cried Steve. “I hope he didn’t devise it -for our amusement, as he devised his fiction about the small-pox!” he -added grimly. - -“Oh, he was very solemn about it,” Henry asserted. - -“Didn’t Mr. Lawrence get back any of his lost fortune?” Marmaduke asked. -“Surely he should have! Why, there is no moral at all in such a story as -that!” - -“Even so, Marmaduke; Hiram Monk made a grave mistake when he suffered -the remainder of the fortune to be ingulfed in the ‘muddy waters’ of -the Mississippi. He should have swelled it to millions, and then buried -it near the first parallel of latitude, so many degrees northeast by -southwest. When he confessed to Mr. Lawrence to-day, he should have -given him a chart of the hiding-place, and in three months from this -date we should have set out on the war-trail. After having annihilated -several boat-loads of cannibals, and scuttled a pirate or so by way of -recreation, we should have found the treasure just ten minutes after -somebody else had lugged it off. But of course we should have come up -with this somebody, had a sharp struggle, and lugged off the treasure -in our turn. Then we should have returned, worth seven millions, a tame -native, and an ugly monkey, apiece. But, alas! I don’t take kindly to -that kind of romance any more, Marmaduke; I don’t pine to shed the blood -of villains, cannibals, and pirates.” - -So spoke Charles. A few hours before, and Steve would have said it, or -something like it; but now Steve was looking very grave, and seemed -already to pounce on Charles for speaking so. - -“Charley,” he growled, “you talk as if we read Dime Novels; and I’m sure -_I_ don’t, if you do.” - -Charley winced, but could not hit upon a cutting retort. - -“What Charley says is very good,” Marmaduke, unmoved, replied; “but -I don’t see why a whole fortune should be utterly lost, nor why Mr. -Lawrence should spend ten years in idleness without some compensation. I -hope you haven’t let Monk escape!” he cried, turning to Henry with such -genuine alarm that the whole party broke into a laugh. - -Even Steve forgot himself and joined in the laugh, Marmaduke’s expression -of horror being so very ludicrous. - -But he checked himself in a moment, and turned fiercely upon Charles: -“Charles Growler, I am astonished at you! We do not know Marmaduke’s -thoughts; we cannot judge him by ourselves. By nature, he is of a finer -organism than we, and he sees things in a different light. Some day, -when he is a poet among poets, he will hold us poor shallow creatures up -to ridicule in some majestic and spirit-stirring satire.” - -Stephen was in earnest now, but the others were not accustomed to this -sort of thing from him, and thinking he meant to be only unusually -sarcastic, their laughter broke forth again; and while Charles laughed -uproariously, Henry said severely--so severely that Steve was almost -desperate: “You ought not to be so personal in your remarks; you ought to -have a _little_ respect for another’s feelings.” - -Marmaduke remembered the promise Stephen had made on the log, and he now -looked at him reproachfully, thinking, with the rest, that Steve was -jeering at him. - -Poor misunderstood boy! He knew not how to explain himself. This was the -first time he had had occasion to play the champion to Marmaduke, and he -was making an egregious fool of himself. - -“Oh, you stupid fellows!” he roared. “I’m taking his part; and I mean to -take it after this, for he is the best fellow in the world.” - -“I’m glad to hear you say so,” Henry said heartily. “As for Hiram Monk, -like all worn out villains, he is anxious that the LAW should care for -him; and the officer who secured Jim Horniss will secure him, also. As -for the confession, let us make the most of it as it is; for we can’t -make it either better or worse if we stay here till we shoot another -deer.” - -“Well, boys, what about going home?” George asked. - -“If _you_ are ready to go, I’m morally certain _I_ am,” said Steve. - -Now that the subject was broached, the others were willing to acknowledge -that they had had enough of hunting, and would gladly go home. Charles, -however, thought it would be more decorous to offer some plausible -excuse for returning so quickly, and so he said, “Yes, boys, I must go -immediately; I have business that calls me home imperatively.” - -“‘Business?’ _What_ ‘business?’” Steve asked in great perplexity. - -He knew that Charley did not yet earn his own living at home; he knew, -also, that Charley was not learning to play on the violin; hence his -curiosity. - -Charles was not prepared for such a question. He wanted, actually, craved -for, a glass of lemonade and one of his mother’s pumpkin pies; but this -seemed so flimsy an excuse that he hesitated to say so. He stammered; his -cheeks flushed; and at last he said, desperately, “Well, boys, I should -like to see how these cuts look in the mirror!” - -Will, who shrewdly suspected what Charles was thinking of, said softly, -in French--which he understood better now than he did six years -before--with a faint attempt at a smile, “And in the eyes of that dear -little girl.” - -“This is a great change in our plans,” Henry observed. “We intended to -stay three weeks; and now, at the end of three days, we are disgusted and -homesick.” - -It was evident that Steve had something on his mind, and he now asked, -inquisitively: “Should _you_ like to go home, Henry?” - -“Stephen, I am going home immediately--even if Will and I have to go -alone.” - -Stephen was about to make a sententious observation; but he checked -himself abruptly, and his voice died away in one long, guttural, and -untranslatable interjection. - -The day before, Stephen had come upon Henry alone in the depths of -the forest, leaning against a tree, and whistling as though his heart -would break--whistling passionately, yet tenderly--whistling as only a -lover can whistle a love-song. Yet it was not a love-song that Henry -was whistling, but a piece of instrumental music,--“La Fille de Madame -Angot,” by Charles Godfrey,--the first piece that, some three or four -years before, he had ever heard his blue-eyed sweetheart play; and the -last piece that, in memory of those old days, she had played for him -before he set out to go hunting. - -Steve had stolen softly away, feeling that the person who could whistle -that waltz as Henry whistled it, did not wish to be disturbed. He now -refrained from making his observation, and said to himself: “Well, now, -I feel just about as happy as if I had said what I wanted to say! Only, -it was _so_ good!” - -“Of course; that’s just what we should have thought of first,” said -Charles, beginning where Henry left off. “Will must be taken home this -very night--that is, a start for home must be made this very night. We -will go with him, of course; for we don’t want to stay and hunt alone.” - -“Of course,” chorused the others, not wishing to hunt “alone.” - -“Shall we buy some deer of regular hunters?” Jim meekly suggested. “Every -one will laugh at us if we go home without even a bird.” - -Steve answered him: “No! If we can’t shoot a deer to take home, we had -better go empty-handed. And besides, we can buy deer nearer home than -this. As for _birds_, I didn’t know that amateur hunters take home birds -as an evidence of their skill--unless they happen to shoot an eagle. -As for the _laugh_, why, I tell you, we shall be worshipped as wounded -heroes!” - -“Perhaps, as stupid blunderers!” George said, testily. - -For the first time, George’s whole skin troubled him. He had not received -even a scratch; while all the others had some hurt, bruise, or mark, as a -memento of this hunt. Even Jim had not escaped, a vicious hornet having -inhumanly stung his nose. - -They were now drawing near the place where they supposed their cabin -stood. But everything seemed strange--very strange. - -“Are we lost again?” was the cry that burst from Will’s lips. - -“Not _lost_, but _burnt out_!” Steve exclaimed. “Yes, boys, we are burnt -out of house and home! Now, in such a case, who is going to stay here and -hunt? Why, our bitterest enemies wouldn’t expect it of us! Hurrah! But,” -he added, gravely, “I’m afraid I’m reconciled to this disaster!” - -“I think we all are,” Charles said, with a hideous grin. - -“Now, I want to know how and why that shanty caught fire?” Will -ejaculated. - -By this time the hunters had reached the spot lately occupied by their -cabin, and they now stood around the pile of still smoking ruins, with -probably “mingled emotions.” - -“You cooked the few morsels we had for breakfast, Will; therefore you -ought to be responsible for this,” Henry observed. - -“O--h!” groaned Will, “so I am! I didn’t put the fire entirely out this -morning, and I forgot a box of matches on the hearth--the homemade -hearth. They have met!” - -“At first I grieved that our hovel was so small,” said Charles; “but now -I’m glad it was, or else the fire might have gone into the forest.” - -“And burnt us alive!” Steve said, with a shudder. Then he left Marmaduke, -bent over the sufferer on the litter, and whispered in his ear: “Will, -as soon as ever we reach home, I intend to deliver you over to Mr. B. F. -Stolz!” - -Having discharged this horrible threat, Steve returned to Marmaduke, -muttering: “A hunter has no business to build a shanty to live in; he -ought to pitch a tent, if it’s nothing but a parasol on a fish-pole.” - -“What about this fellow’s bumps?” chuckles the reader. - -It is very ungracious in the reader, after all our kindness towards him, -to throw out such insinuations, and we refuse to give him any other -explanation or satisfaction than this: Will’s bumps were not so prominent -as usual that day. - -George now spoke. “Look here, boys; stop your foolishness and listen to -me. Didn’t we leave some valuables in that building? Where are they now?” - -“Oh!” gasped the others, in one breath. - -“Where are they now?” George roared again. - -As no one seemed to know, he continued: “Well, I’m going to look for -the wreck of my fowling-piece.” And he set his feet together, and -deliberately leaped into the midst of the smouldering ruins. - -He alighted on his feet, but they gave way beneath him; he staggered, and -then fell heavily, at full length. - -The hunters were alarmed. Was he hurt? - -“George!--George!” they shrieked. “Oh, George!” - -“Well, what’s the matter?” he growled, as he struggled to his feet. - -“Oh, George, come out,” Charles pleaded. “You must be hurt.” - -“Am I?” George cried, wildly, hopefully. “Am I hurt, I say?” - -“You will probably have a black eye,” Mr. Lawrence sorrowfully observed, -as the explorer emerged from the cinders. - -“Am I much bruised?” he asked, turning to Stephen, certain that that -worthy would do him justice. “Am I, Steve? I don’t feel hurt or bruised a -bit.” - -Quick-witted Steve saw what was going on in the questioner’s mind, and -replied, promptly: “Bruised? Why, you’re a frightful object--a vagabond -scare-crow! You must be wounded from your Scotch cap to the toe of your -left boot. You’ve secured _not only_ an exceedingly black eye, _but also_ -a swelled cheek, a protuberant forehead, a stiff neck, a singed chin, a -sprained wrist, and, for all I know, a cracked skull! Why, George, you’re -a total wreck! The folks at home will think that we took you for some -wild beast, and that each of us fired at you and hit you.” - -The Sage turned away with a happy smile on his lips. - -“Surely,” he soliloquised, “Steve wouldn’t go so far if there isn’t -something wrong. But I hope there is no danger of a black eye!” - -Then aloud, and cheerfully: “Yes, boys, let us go home.” - -Do not imagine, gentle reader, that this hunter fell purposely. He was -not so foolish as that; but when he did have a fall, he wished to profit -by it. Still, he could see neither romance nor poetry in gaining nothing -but a black eye. - -It is worse than useless to prolong their conversation, so here it closes. - -The hunters felt somewhat crest-fallen when they found that the fire had -consumed almost everything left in the cabin. However, they packed their -remaining effects in some new boxes, and then set out for home in pretty -good spirits. They arrived safe, and were welcomed as wounded heroes, as -Steve had foretold. - -For the consolation of those readers who have an antipathy to mutilated -heroes, it may be stated that Stephen’s hurts healed, leaving no other -bad effects than ugly scars. - -For the consolation of conscientious readers, it may be stated that Hiram -Monk and Jim Horniss were tried by law, and _sentenced_ to the punishment -they deserved. If a learned lawyer should be beguiled into reading this -story, he might know what punishment those wretches _deserved_--he might -even guess at what punishment they _received_. - -But the majesty of the law is possessed of a fickle mind. - - - - -_Chapter XLVI._ - -THE STORY CLOSED. - - -Some novels, like an endless chain, seem to have neither beginning -nor end; others, while they give every little incident with wearisome -minuteness, stop suddenly when they come to the colophon, pause in doubt -and trepidation, and finally conclude with two or three sentences of -sententious brevity, in which the word _marriage_ occurs at least once. -The writer of this history, like all right-minded scribes, becomes -disgusted when the last difficulty is surmounted, but yet has sufficient -moral power to devote a whole chapter (though a short one) to the -conclusion. Gentle reader, you ought to be indulgent to one who has such -self-abnegation--such firmness of purpose--such greatness of mind. - -This story draws to an end for several reasons: first, there is no great -affinity between schoolboys, for whom it professes to be written, and -volumes seventy-nine chapters in length; secondly, if the reader is not -tired of it, the writer begins to be; thirdly, a story dies a natural -death as soon as its writer unriddles, or attempts to unriddle, its -mysteries; fourthly (and this is perhaps the strongest reason of all), -there is nothing more to be written. - -If there are other reasons why the story should be brought to an end, -they concern the writer, not the reader, and therefore need not be -specified. But in case the reader should care to hear what became of -those boys, the writer graciously spins out a few pages more. - -Naturally they married, observes the reader who is familiar with works of -fiction. Certainly; every one of them married. - -Marmaduke fell desperately in love; and, as was evinced when he rescued -Sauterelle, he was a man who could love passionately and for ever. He -married the object of his choice, of course. By the way, she was actually -a French heiress--at least, her papa was a Frenchman teaching French in -one of our colleges, and on the wedding-day he gave her the magnificent -dowry of five hundred dollars, the accumulated savings of very many years. - -Charles married the young lady referred to incidentally in the last -chapter. All the heroes were present at his wedding; and their enthusiasm -ran so high that they clubbed together, and bought the happy pair a -marvel of a clock, that indicated not only the seconds, minutes, hours, -days, weeks, months, years, and centuries, but was furnished, also, with -a brass band,--which thundered forth “Yankee Doodle,” “Hail Columbia,” -and “Home, Sweet Home,”--a regiment of well-dressed negroes, an -ear-piercing gong, and “all the latest improvements.” - -Charles and his pretty little wife tolerated this nuisance exactly three -days, and then the former proposed the following resolution: “That clock -runs just one year after being wound, and the boys wound it up tight when -they brought it here and set it up. If we let it alone till it runs down, -we shall be as mad as the man that made it. I used to delight in “Yankee -Doodle,” but now I abominate it! We can keep the handsomest darkey in -remembrance of the boys’ mistaken kindness,--rather, in remembrance of -the horrible fate they prepared for us,--but the clock’s doom is sealed. -I will immolate it this very evening; and the street boys may make off -with its broken remains.” - -It is hardly worth while to go on and describe the wedding-feast of each -of the heroes. Turn to the last page of any novel whatsoever, and you -will find an account quite as applicable to this case as to the original -of a hero’s marriage. - -Will continues to commit his ridiculous blunders as of yore; but they -are not quite so ridiculous as those narrated in this tale, for he has -learned to keep a strict watch over himself. But, notwithstanding that, -notwithstanding his bumps, notwithstanding that he is now a man, he -will occasionally unstring the nerves of some weak-headed person by an -unseemly act. - -Stephen still takes delight in playing off his practical jokes. He often -gets into trouble by this means, but it is not in his nature to profit by -experience. - -George is a man, wise and learned in his own estimation. He sends -scientific treatises to the leading journals sometimes, but, alas! it -generally results in their being declined. But George does not value time -and postage-stamps so highly as he should, consequently he still persists -in harassing the editors with his manuscripts. He is very dispassionate -in his choice of subjects, writing with equal impartiality and enthusiasm -about astronomy, geology, philosophy, aëronautics, and philology. -Probably that is the reason why he does not succeed. If he should take -up a single science and devote all his energies to it, his name might -eventually become known to every school-boy in the land. - -The less said about Timor, the better. Any boy who will attempt to hide -from a June thunder-storm by skulking under his bed, can never become a -_man_. He may grow up to man’s estate, doubtless; but he will be nothing -but a big, overgrown coward. - -Bear this in mind, O parent; and if you should ever catch your little son -skulking in the aforementioned place while the lightning is playing over -the vault of heaven, fall on him, drag him out by the coat-collar, and -hoist him on the gate-post, that he may see how beautiful and marvellous -the lightning is. - -Henry is a _man_, in every sense of the word. He has a good head for -business, and in a few years will, in all probability, become a rich -man--which, in good romances, is the main point. - -Marmaduke never became a poet, as Steve fondly prophesied. But he is -probably the most orthodox antiquary in the United States. He may safely -be consulted on whatever relates to antiquities, as his information -is unlimited, and his home one great museum of curiosities and -monstrosities. To be sure, there are some hideous and repulsive objects -in his cabinets--objects which a child would shudder to pass in broad -daylight--but his home is the resort of profound, but absent-minded and -whimsical, antiquaries from all parts. He and his wife live a quiet -and happy life, pitied contemptuously by the ignorant, but honored and -respected by those who know them best. He is not so romantic as formerly, -his experience with “Sauterelle” having shaken his faith in romance -and mystery so much that he afterwards transferred his attention to -antiquities, leaving romance and mystery for the novelists and detectives -to deal with. He is undeniably a genius, and, much to Steve’s joy, a -thorough American. - -Reader, it is utterly impossible for the writer to inform you of the -occupation of all the others--in fact, he is not morally certain that he -did right in making an antiquary of Marmaduke. Take the matter into your -own hands, and think in what business those boys would succeed best. If -you can tell, good--very good; the writer is spared the trouble. - -Therefore: Each reader is at liberty to make what he pleases of Will, -Charles, George, Stephen, Jim, and Henry. There is, however, this -proviso: Do not think of Charles as an ambassador to Persia; of Steve, as -the “proprietor” of a pea-nut stand; of Jim, as a reader of ghost-stories -at midnight. Do not think of _one_ of them as a future candidate for the -presidency. - -Something has been said of Steve’s calligraphic propensities. But he -never made his fortune with his pencil; he did little more than while -away an idle hour. - -“Ah,” sighs the conscientious reader, “were those boys not reformed? Did -the faults of their boyhood cling to them in their manhood?” - -Yes; they clung to them. It was originally the intention to reform them, -one and all; but insurmountable difficulties lay in the way. In the -first place, nothing short of a frightful, perhaps _fatal_, catastrophe -could have a lasting effect on them; and it is unpleasant to deal with -catastrophes. Consequently, they are suffered to live on, their ways not -amended. But the writer is as grieved at their follies, or faults, as you -are, gentle reader. - -After a careful and critical perusal of this composition,--which the -writer is conceited enough boldly to call “tale,” “story,” and “history,” -and indirectly to call “romance” and “novel,”--the reader may inquire, -vaguely: “Who is supposed to be the hero of it, anyway?” - -The writer does not resent this as an insult, but replies calmly that he -does not know. In the beginning, it was designed that Will should be the -hero-in-chief, but it soon became manifest that that was a mistaken idea. -Will is, at best, a shabby hero, not half so noble as the gamins in the -fable, who stopped stoning the frogs when the frogs reasoned them out of -it. - -In point of religion, Will is probably the best of all, though each one -is sound in his belief. George does not permit his scientific hobbies -to shake his faith in God or man; and if the reader imagines he detects -profane levity in the course of this book, he is mistaken, for nothing of -the sort is intended. - -We do not inform possible inquirers what church these worthies attended, -or whether each one attended a different church. We do not disclose with -which political party they sided, but it may be taken for granted that -they were not all Republicans nor all Democrats. - -There is a motive for this reticence--a very base and significant motive. -That motive is--_policy_! - -To return to Will. He endeavored to live up to the precept enforced in -the following lines: - - “So live, that when thy summons comes to join - The innumerable caravan, which moves - To that mysterious realm, where each shall take - His chamber in the silent halls of death, - Thou go not, like the quarry-slave at night, - Scourged to his dungeon, but, sustained and soothed - By an unfaltering trust, approach thy grave, - Like one who wraps the drapery of his couch - About him, and lies down to pleasant dreams.” - -The disgusted reader, if he has persevered to the end, tumbles this -volume into an out-of-the-way corner, fetches a yawn of intense relief, -and mutters, “Good-bye to that self-styled writer, with his Wegotism -and his ‘demoralized’ heroes, who are always ‘chuckling’ over their -atrocities; and who are a set of noodles, anyway; always quaking with -fear, overwhelmed with consternation, or shuddering with horror--and all -for nothing.” - - - - - * * * * * * - - - - -Transcriber’s note: - -A large number of printing errors have been corrected without note. - -Use of hyphens, e.g. schoolboy/school-boy, is variable. - - - -***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A BLUNDERING BOY*** - - -******* This file should be named 54367-0.txt or 54367-0.zip ******* - - -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: -http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/5/4/3/6/54367 - - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United -States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. 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