Kitabı oku: «Julian Mortimer», sayfa 6
CHAPTER X
JULIAN HAS A VISITOR
IF WE were interested in the fortunes of Mr. Mortimer, we might put in an interesting chapter here by relating the various incidents that transpired in the cabin during the night; but as we have nothing to do with his personal adventures only in so far as they are connected with Julian’s, it will be enough to say that it was a night of terror for him, and one that he never forgot; that, declining the pressing invitation his host extended to him to occupy the bed which Mrs. Bowles had arranged for his especial benefit, the guest took his seat in the corner in which the billets of wood for the fire-place were piled, and folding his arms and leaning his head against the wall, watched Jack as closely as ever a cat watched a mouse; that Jack, seeing that the gentleman’s suspicions had been aroused in some mysterious manner, fumed inwardly, but believing that time and patience would accomplish wonders, settled back on his nail-keg to wait until his guest, overcome by weariness and want of sleep, should be compelled to seek repose; that, as the night wore on, and Mr. Mortimer never once changed his position or showed the least sign of drowsiness, Jack began to grow uneasy, and sat fingering the handle of his knife, and occasionally running his eyes over the gentleman’s person from head to foot, as if mentally calculating the chances of a successful encounter with him; that finally, resolved on trying strategy, Jack threw himself upon the bed, and after snoring lustily for half an hour, suddenly opened his eyes, which had never once been closed in sleep, only to find Mr. Mortimer as watchful and seated as near the billets of wood as ever; that then Jack’s patience was all exhausted, and he snored in earnest, but the visitor never moved until daylight began to stream in through the half-open door.
No one, to have heard the hearty good-morning Jack wished his guest as soon as he opened his eyes, would have believed that he had ever had designs upon his life. Neither of them alluded to the matter in any way, but Bowles noticed that his guest was always on the alert.
About 10 o’clock in the forenoon a flatboat might have been seen moored in front of the cabin. On the shore stood a party of three men, one of whom was Jack Bowles, another Mr. Mortimer, and the third the captain of the boat – a gentleman who looked enough like Jack to be his brother. After saying this it is scarcely necessary to add that he carried the face of a villain.
A fourth man was pacing the bank a short distance from the party mentioned, watching all their movements, listening eagerly to the few words of their conversation that now and then caught his ear, and noticing with some nervousness, which showed itself in the frequent changing of his hands from the arm-holes of his vest to the pockets of his coat, that they were looking at him rather suspiciously.
This gentleman, whoever he was, had evidently bestowed considerable pains upon his toilet; and the dignified manner in which he bore himself, as well as the satisfied and admiring glances which he occasionally cast down at his dress, indicated that he had a high opinion of himself and his personal appearance.
His garments were all of the finest broadcloth; but as some of them had been made for larger, and others for smaller men than himself, they fitted him oddly enough. His trowsers being too long, were rolled up around the tops of a pair of heavy cowhide boots; and his coat-sleeves being too short, revealed arms that were as brown and muscular as those of a blacksmith. A heavy watch-chain hung across his vest, and the fingers of both his hands were ornamented with enormous seal rings. But little could be seen of his face, for it was almost entirely concealed by thick, bushy whiskers, and by a large red handkerchief, which was passed under his chin and tied over his head.
“Who is he?” asked Mr. Mortimer, who became unaccountably nervous and excited the instant his eyes rested on the stranger.
“He gave no name,” replied the captain of the flatboat. “He came aboard of us shortly after you left yesterday, and engaged passage for New Orleans. He is going to the West Indies for his health.”
“For his health!” echoed Mr. Mortimer.
He turned and looked at the stranger again, taking in at a glance his powerful shoulders, which, like those of Tom Hood’s coachman, were much “too broad to be conceived by any narrow mind,” his quick, elastic step, ruddy face, and brawny hands and arms, and asked himself if a finer specimen of robust health could be found anywhere.
“I know that man in spite of his disguise,” said he, at length, “and I know what brought him here. He must not be allowed to accompany us, captain. I will give you double his fare if you will order him to stay ashore.”
“It is too late,” replied the skipper. “He has paid his passage, and I charged him a good round sum too.”
“Well, return it to him, and tell him that as your cabin is to be occupied by a dangerous lunatic and his keepers you cannot accommodate him.”
“I will talk to him, but I don’t know how much good it will do. He is very impatient to start down the river, and, what appears strange to me, he is anxious to go in my boat.”
“It isn’t at all strange to me. His name is Sanders, and he was sent out here to watch me, and by my cousin.”
Mr. Mortimer, who in his excitement had spoken a little too hastily, suddenly checked himself and looked savagely at the man whom he had called Sanders. The latter, observing his close scrutiny, pulled his handkerchief closer about his face and shifted his hands from his pockets to the arm-holes of his vest.
“Speaking of this crazy boy,” said the captain, “reminds me that you have not yet told me when you will be ready to start with him. I have engaged to deliver my cargo of hoop-poles by a certain time, and I can wait for you but a few hours longer. You say that the boy has taken it into his head that he is rich, that he has friends living out West, and that he has escaped and concealed himself in the woods?”
“Yes,” replied Jack. “He got away from us last night. Me an’ Mr. Mortimer were jest goin’ to start after him on hossback when yer boat come in sight. We’ll have him here afore sundown if thar’s men enough in the county to hold him. Mebbe this feller has heerd of him. I’ll ask him.”
The person referred to was a settler, who was just returning from The Corners, and who at that moment galloped up on his horse. He stopped when he saw Jack preparing to speak to him, and in reply to his question if he had seen or heard of Julian, said:
“Yes; I saw him at The Corners not more than two hours ago. He traded off $45 worth of mink skins and bought some powder and lead. He said that he had made a camp on the bluffs over on Beaver Creek, and that he was going to stay there a day or two. Anything the matter with him?”
“He’s gone clean outen his head, that’s all,” replied Jack.
“Crazy?” cried the settler.
“Sartin. He stole a’most a hundred dollars of me last night an’ run away. He wouldn’t a done that if he’d been in his right mind, would he?”
Jack, having gained all the information he desired, gave Mr. Mortimer a significant look, and the two walked rapidly toward the cabin, at the door of which their horses were standing, saddled and bridled, and springing upon their backs rode off across the clearing.
“Did I do right in sayin’ what I did about Julian?” asked Jack, as soon as he and his companion were out of hearing of the men on the bank.
“Perfectly. I want everybody who is likely to meet him to know that he is not in his right mind. You see, when we take him on board the flatboat he may tell the captain or the crew that we are his enemies, and that he knows we intend to do him some injury; but as we have already told them that he is crazy they will pay no attention to what he says. Don’t you understand?”
“In course. But ye hain’t changed yer plans, have ye? Ye hain’t a-goin’ to put him in a ’sylum, be ye?”
“I never had any such intention. If he falls overboard you shall have $200; but, of course, that is a matter that we keep to ourselves.”
“I know jest what ye mean. Folks will think that we take Julian on board the flatboat to carry him to Orleans; but we don’t. We take him thar so as to drop him into the river, an’ get him outen yer way. Make yer mind easy. Them two hundred is mine.”
The settler, who was very much astonished at what Jack had told him, and had half a mind to join in the pursuit, watched him and his companion until they were out of sight, and then continued his ride; but he had not gone far when when he was stopped by the odd-looking man in broadcloth.
“Stranger,” said the latter, in regular backwoods vernacular, “whar is this yere Beaver Creek you was a speakin’ of?”
“I don’t know that I could direct you so that you could find it,” was the reply.
“Who said I wanted to find it?” inquired the man. “I only axes you which way it is from here, an’ how fur?”
“Well,” returned the settler, facing about in his saddle, shutting one eye and gazing at the woods through the half-closed lids of the other; “it’s four miles right north of here if you go through the timber, and eight miles if you go by the road.”
The man in broadcloth walked off at once, and without stopping to thank the settler for his information. As long as he remained within sight of the cabin and flatboat he was very deliberate in his movements; but the instant the woods concealed him from view, he broke into a rapid run, threading his way through the thick bushes with a celerity that was surprising. Up hill and down he went, never once slackening his pace or deviating from the course the settler had given him, until at last he saw a thin cloud of smoke arising through the trees in front of him, and after climbing a precipitous cliff, found himself standing face to face with Julian Mortimer.
The boy, who being busy with his preparations for dinner, had not heard the sound of his footsteps until he reached the top of the bluff, jumped up with his gun in his hand, ready to fight or run, as occasion might require. His first thought was that his enemies had tracked him to his hiding-place; but finding that his visitor was a stranger, and that he appeared to have no hostile intentions, he leaned on the muzzle of his rifle and waited for him to make known his business.
The man, whose breath was not even quickened by his long and rapid run, gazed about him with an air of interest. He looked at the brush shanty which Julian had erected to protect him from the weather, at the comfortable bed of blankets and leaves which was arranged under the sheltering roof, at the squirrels broiling before the fire, and then his eyes wandered to our hero, at whom he gazed long and earnestly. The boy did not look much now as he did when he escaped from Jack Bowles’ cabin, for he was dressed in a suit of new and comfortable clothes, and sported a wide-brimmed hat and a pair of high-top boots.
“Julian,” exclaimed the stranger, at length. “It’s you sure enough, hain’t it? I hain’t seed you fur more’n eight year, but I would know you any whar.”
“Would you?” asked Julian, throwing his rifle into the hollow of his arm and resting his thumb on the hammer; “then have the goodness to leave here at once. I am suspicious of every stranger who calls me by name.”
“An’ well you may be,” replied the man, earnestly, “‘cause most of ’em are enemies to you. But I hain’t. I’m a friend, an’ I can prove it. Do you know that Dick Mortimer an’ Jack Bowles are huntin’ the country over to find you?”
“Yes; but I wasn’t aware Mr. Mortimer’s name is Dick.”
“Wal, it is. The flatboat’s come, an’ when they ketch you they’re goin’ to take you to Orleans an’ lock you up fur a crazy boy.”
“Why, they said last night that they were going to push me overboard and drown me,” said Julian, as soon as he could speak.
“Mebbe they be. I don’t know what they are goin’ to do – I’m only tellin’ you what I heerd ’em say.”
“Who are you, any how; and how does it come that you know my name?”
“Why, boy, I’ve knowed you ever since you was knee high to a duck, an’ your father afore you.”
“You have?” cried Julian, greatly amazed.
“In course. An’ your mother an’ your brother, too. They live out in the mountains, an’ I come to take you to ’em. They’ll be monstrous glad to see you, an’ they’re waitin’ fur you.”
“Are they all alive?”
“The last blessed one of ’em.”
“I remember my father,” said Julian, gazing thoughtfully at the ground, “and it seems to me that I have some recollection of my brother; but I never knew anything about my mother. What brought you here?”
“I come to your camp to tell you that Bowles and Mortimer are comin’ arter you on hossback, an’ that if you want to save yourself you had better dig out. An’ I come to Missouri ’cause your friends sent me here arter you. I know the hul lot of ’em, I tell you, an’ if you will trust yourself to me I will take you to ’em safe an’ sound.”
Julian, astounded and bewildered by this proposition, dropped the butt of his rifle to the ground, and looked sharply at the man, as if he meant to read his very thoughts. Was he really the friend he professed to be? Of one thing the boy was certain – and that was that he was not an ally of Mr. Mortimer. If he had been he would not have warned him that another attempt was about to be made to capture him.
How gladly would he have given himself up to the man’s guidance if he had only been sure that he was trustworthy! He would have followed him all over the world, and braved all imaginable dangers, if he knew that by so doing he would be restored to his home once more. Home! How the word thrilled him!
“Who in the world am I?” Julian asked himself in great perplexity; “and how does it happen that the moment I am ready to carry my plans into execution, men whom I never remember to have seen before should suddenly appear and exhibit so deep an interest in me? If I have such good friends, who are so very anxious to see me, why did they leave me here for eight long years to be beaten, and starved, and treated worse than a dog? I can’t understand it at all.”
“What do you say?” asked the stranger; “will you go? You had better be in a hurry about making up your mind to something, ’cause I can hear the trampin’ of hosses.”
“Yes,” replied Julian, “I shall go; but I shall go alone.”
“Wal, then,” continued the man, who was plainly very much disappointed by this decision, “let me give you a word of advice: If you won’t trust me, don’t trust nobody – do you hear? You’ll meet plenty of folks who know you, an’ who will have something to say to you; but don’t listen to ’em. Jine a wagon train at St. Joe, an’ when you reach Fort Kearney, stop thar. You will then be within forty miles of your hum. You’d best be gettin’ away from here, ’cause them fellers is comin’ – I can hear ’em.”
“How did they find out where I am?” asked Julian.
“Why, some chap saw you tradin’ off your furs this mornin’ an’ buying’ powder an’ lead, an’ he told ’em. Why don’t you run? Don’t you hear ’em comin’?”
Julian listened, and could at last distinguish the rapid strokes of horses’ hoofs on the hard road. He knelt down behind a log that lay on the edge of the bluff, and looking over the top of it, waited for the horsemen to come in sight.
The sound of the hoofs grew louder and louder, and in a few minutes Mr. Mortimer came into view, and drawing rein at the foot of the bluff, sprung out of his saddle. Jack Bowles was not with him; he was alone.
“I am not afraid of him,” thought Julian. “I kept him at bay last night with an empty rifle, and now I have a loaded one. He shall never capture me.”
Julian arose to his feet, and turned to look at the stranger. He was not in sight. The boy had not heard even the rustle of a leaf to tell him that he was in motion, and yet he had disappeared. He wished now that he had paid more attention to the man’s warning; but his mind was so fully occupied, and he was so deeply interested in what he had had to say about the home and friends that were waiting for him away off in the mountains, that he had hardly given a thought to the danger which threatened him. He began to think of it now, however, for he heard Mr. Mortimer ascending the bluff.
“Hold on, down there!” cried Julian. “I am watching you.”
“Ah! you are there, are you?” replied Mr. Mortimer. “I will soon be there, too. If I had known that your rifle was empty, I should have secured you last night.”
“Who told you it was empty?”
“We found your powder-horn and bullet-pouch in the corn-crib this morning. Don’t attempt any resistance now. You are surrounded, and cannot escape.”
“Surrounded!” echoed Julian.
He turned quickly, and sure enough there was an enemy in his rear, who had mounted the bluff on the opposite side, and approached so cautiously that the boy had not heard him. It was Jack Bowles.
CHAPTER XI
JACK’S PLANS
THE EXPRESSION Julian saw on the face of his old enemy alarmed him greatly. His countenance was distorted with fury, and the boy saw enough in it to satisfy him that Jack intended to take ample revenge on him for what he had done. With a cry of terror he turned and took to his heels; but Bowles was already within reach of him, and before our hero had made many steps, he fastened upon his collar with one hand, and with the other twisted his rifle out of his grasp.
“Let’s see ye slip outen yer coat an’ get away from me this time,” said Jack, with savage exultation. “I’ve got a long account to settle with ye, my lad. I’ll larn ye to go about the country stealin’ money an’ killin’ honest folks’ huntin’ dogs. We’d best tie him, hadn’t we, Mr. Mortimer, fur fear that he gets one of them ar crazy spells onto him?”
“Certainly,” said that gentleman, who, having by this time reached the top of the bluff, stepped forward to assist in securing the prisoner.
“An’ sarch him, too,” added Jack. “He may have some dangerous we’pons about him. Don’t go to makin’ a fuss now.”
“I have no such intention,” replied Julian, who, knowing that he was powerless, submitted to his captors, who bound his arms firmly behind his back. “But I can tell you one thing, Jack – you and Richard Mortimer. You are not going to take me down the river and put me into an asylum.”
Mr. Mortimer was profoundly astonished at these words. He looked sharply at the prisoner for a moment and exclaimed: “Has Sanders been here?”
“Sanders?” repeated Julian.
“Yes; a short, thick-set man, dressed in black, and wearing an abundance of jewelry.”
“I have no acquaintance with any such person.”
“But you do not say that you have not seen him. You have talked with him – I am certain of it – or you would not know that my name is Richard. Sanders knows why I am here, and I know why he is here and who sent him. We are both playing the same game, and we shall see who will win. He shall never take passage on that flatboat.”
As soon as Julian had been securely bound, Jack set himself to work to overhaul his pockets, searching – not for concealed weapons, but for the money belonging to the prisoner. A very short investigation, however, served to satisfy him that the coveted treasure was not hidden about Julian’s person, and with an expression of almost ungovernable fury on his face he left him and began to search the camp. He picked up the prisoner’s blankets, shook them thoroughly, threw aside the leaves which the boy had scraped together to serve as a mattress, and looked into every hollow stump and under every log on the bluff; but nothing in the shape of a box or pocket-book could he find.
“Whar is it?” he roared, unable to contain himself longer.
“Where’s what?” asked Julian.
“The money, ye rascal – the $145.”
“I haven’t got as much as that.”
“Wal, you’ve got some. Whar is it, I axes ye?”
“It is concealed where you will never think of looking for it, and there it shall stay.”
“I’ll bet a hoss that it don’t stay thar,” shouted Jack, stamping the ground and shaking his fists in his rage. “Mark my words. Afore I’m done with ye, ye’ll come to this bluff an’ give me that money with yer own hands.”
“And mark my words,” replied Julian calmly. “I shall do nothing of the kind. I’ll die first. It is mine – you’ve no right to it, and you shan’t have it.”
“Never mind the money now, Bowles,” exclaimed Mr. Mortimer, who was becoming impatient at the delay. “You will have plenty of time to hunt for it after your return from New Orleans. We must begin our journey at once.”
Jack, reluctant to abandon the search, took another turn about the camp, and after venting some of his spite by pulling down Julian’s brush cabin and kicking over the squirrels that were broiling before the fire, picked up the blankets and the rifle, and seizing the boy roughly by the arm hurried him down the bluff. After placing him behind Mr. Mortimer on his horse he disappeared in the woods and presently returned, mounted on his own nag, and led the way toward the clearing. He did not follow the road, as Julian hoped he would, but to avoid meeting any of the settlers, held straight through the woods. He was moody and sullen during the whole of the ride, and the deep scowl on his forehead showed that he was thinking intently.
“The minute Julian drops overboard from the flatboat, that minute I shall have $200 put into my hands,” soliloquized Mr. Bowles. “That’s a monstrous heap of money fur a poor man like me, but I’d like to have them $145, too. Now how am I goin’ to get it? That’s what I’d like to know. I’ll never find it unless Julian tells me whar it is, an’ if he’s at the bottom of the river he can’t tell me. Hain’t thar no way fur me to push him overboard without drownin’ him?”
Upon this question Jack pondered long and deeply, and by the time he and his companions reached the clearing he must have found an answer to it, and a satifactory one, too, for he brightened up and became lively and talkative.
The first person Julian saw when he reached the clearing was the stranger in broadcloth, who was pacing up and down the bank. He did not look up when the boy and his captors rode past him, but pulled the handkerchief a little closer about his face, and sinking his chin lower into the collar of his coat, kept his eyes fastened upon the ground.
“If you are all ready to start, Jack,” said Mr. Mortimer, as they drew rein in front of the door of the cabin, where Mrs. Bowles and her sons were waiting to receive them, “we will go on board the flatboat at once.”
“Wal, I hain’t quite ready,” returned Jack. “I shall be away from home a long time if we go to New Orleans, an’ Jake and Tom’ll have to look out fur things while I am gone. I want to tell ’em what to do.”
“Your wife can do that as well as you can,” replied Mr. Mortimer impatiently.
“An’ more’n that,” continued Jack, holding open his coat to let his guest see that it was in a very dilapidated condition, “I’ve got to have some clothes, if I’m goin’ to a country whar white folks live. I don’t want to make ye ashamed of me.”
“You have nothing to fear on that score. Your clothes will do well enough.”
“But I say they won’t. I was born and raised a gentleman, I was, and I guess I know what sort of riggin’ a gentleman had oughter wear when he goes a visitin’.”
“I don’t want to wait another minute. Don’t you know that we are in danger as long as we remain here? Suppose some of the settlers should find out what is going on?”
“Oh, now, how be they goin’ to find it out? We hain’t a goin’ to tell on ourselves, be we?”
“But the captain wants to start immediately,” persisted Mr. Mortimer.
“I can’t help that. I shan’t be ready for an hour or two – p’raps more; ’cause I’ve got to go to The Corners arter some good clothes.”
“Then you may stay there, if you choose. I can get along without your assistance.”
“No ye can’t, an’ ye shan’t, nuther,” retorted Jack.
“I shall go without you,” continued Mr. Mortimer, decidedly. “Then what will become of the $200 I promised you?”
Jack approached his guest and placed his lips close to his ear.
“If ye go without me I’ll have the officers of the law on yer track in less’n an hour,” said he, fiercely. “Then what will become of ye? I can say, ye know, that ye offered me money to shove the boy overboard, an’ p’raps ye’ll have to tell some things ye’d rather the world wouldn’t know. Ye’ve got money, an’ ye can keep the boat here as long as ye please.” Then aloud he added: “Ye an’ Julian can step into the house, an’ sit down an’ talk to the ole woman, an’ me an’ the boys will go to the stable an’ feed the hosses. I’ll be back as soon as I get my business done.”
Mr. Mortimer, finding that he was at the mercy of his confederate, was obliged to await his pleasure. He conducted his prisoner into the cabin, while Jack led the horses toward the stable, followed by Jake and Tom.
The boys assisted their father in removing the saddles and feeding the animals, and when this had been done, Jack conducted them into one of the cribs, and after closing and fastening the door, seated himself upon the corn and proceeded to make his sons acquainted with certain plans he had determined upon.
He did not know that some one besides Jake and Tom was listening to every word he said, but such was the fact. It was Sanders, who having overheard enough of Jack’s conversation with Mr. Mortimer to excite his curiosity, and seeing Bowles and his sons enter the crib and shut themselves in, made a circuit through the woods, and came up within hearing of their voices in time to learn as much of their scheme as he cared to know.
“I reckon Mr. Mortimer will get tired of waitin’ fur me,” said Jack, “‘cause he hain’t no ways likely to see me agin afore dark. I’ve got work fur ye to do, youngsters, an’ if ye do it as I tell ye to, there’s money to be made by it. Listen, now, with all the ears you’ve got. In the fust place, in order that ye may understand the hul matter, I must tell ye that this Mr. Mortimer is the same feller who brought Julian here years ago. He’s some kin to him – his pap, mebbe, fur all I know – but he don’t want to own him, ’cause the boy somehow stands atween him an’ a fortin’. He wants to put him whar he’ll never see him agin, an’ so me an’ him have give out that he is crazy, an’ that we’re goin’ to take him to Orleans an’ put him in a ’sylum. In course, he hain’t no more outen his head than I be, but that’s no business of mine. Mr. Mortimer’s goin’ to start down the river with him to-night, an’ I’m goin’ along to take care of him.”
Jack did not see fit to tell his boys that Mr. Mortimer had offered him money to push Julian overboard, and that he had promised to do it. That was a dangerous secret, and one that he did not care to trust to anybody’s keeping.
“I shall get $200 fur makin’ the trip,” continued Jack. “Now, I want to earn them thar two hundred, but I don’t want Julian to be tuk to New Orleans an’ shut up thar, ’cause if he is, we’ll lose jest $145 by it – the hundred he stole from ye last night, Jake, an’ the forty-five he made this mornin’ outen his mink skins. He’s hid the money, an’ I want to get a chance to make him tell whar it is; an’ this is the way I’m goin’ to work it. As soon as it comes dark, ye, Jake an’ Tom, must get into the dug-out an’ drop down the river in it, as easy as ye can, tie it to the starn of the flatboat, an’ then lay down on the bottom an’ keep still thar. Be sure an’ make it fast with a short rope, so as to keep outen the way of the sweeps. When ye’ve done that I will go up to the house, an’ me an’ Mr. Mortimer an’ Julian will go on board the flatboat, an’ she’ll put out into the river, draggin’ the dug-out arter her. When Mr. Mortimer an’ most of the crew have gone to bed, I’ll untie Julian an’ take him up fur a turn about the deck. I’ll give him all the chance he wants to get away, an’ he will be sartin to use it. He said that we shouldn’t never take him down the river; an’ bein’ perfectly at home in the water, he won’t mind jumpin’ overboard and swimmin’ ashore. As soon as I see him in the water I’ll whistle, an’ ye must cut loose from the flatboat an’ pick him up. Be as easy as ye can about it, an’ when ye onct get hold of him hang on, no matter what happens; tie him hard an’ fast, an’ bring him hum an’ put him in the smoke-house till I come. I’ll be along some time to-morrer, ’cause when Mr. Mortimer finds out that Julian is overboard he’ll think he’s drownded, an’ he’ll pay me off an’ discharge me. Arter I get hold of Julian, it won’t take me long to make him tell whar he’s hid them hundred an’ forty-five dollars. When I get that an’ the two hundred I’ll be rich.”
“But, pap, how much be me an’ Tom goin’ to git fur doin’ the job?” asked Jake.
“Ye’ll git enough to satisfy ye,” was the reply. “Jake shall have Julian’s rifle fur his share. It’s a good one, an’ didn’t cost a cent less’n $25. Tom shall have his blankets, which he can sell at The Corners if he don’t want to keep ’em, an’ the clothes Julian’s got on. Tom thinks a heap of good clothes, an’ that shows that he’s goin’ to be a gentleman when he’s growed up. An’ more’n that, if I find Julian here when I come hum, I’ll give each of ye $10; but if he hain’t here, ye shan’t have nothin’ but the dog-gondest wallopin’ ye ever heern tell on, an’ ye’ll get that as sartin as ye’re a foot high. It’ll be wusser’n all the rest I ever give ye biled down into one. Now, be ye sure that ye know jest what ye’ve got to do?”
Jake and Tom were not quite certain that they did, and so their father repeated his instructions, and kept on repeating them until the boys thoroughly understood them.
Every part of the work they were expected to perform, as well as the treatment Julian was to receive prior to Jack’s return, was discussed, and the latter being satisfied at last that there was no danger of failure, announced that it was his intention to pass the rest of the afternoon in sleep. He instructed Jake to return to the house and announce that his father had just set out for The Corners on horseback, and then concealed himself among the corn at the farther end of the crib, while his boys, after making sure that there was no one in sight, opened the door and went out. No sooner had they entered the cabin than Sanders left his position behind the crib, made another circuit through the woods back to the bank of the river, and once more began walking up and down, now and then shaking his head and chuckling to himself as if he were thinking about something that afforded him great satisfaction.
