Kitabı oku: «Julian Mortimer», sayfa 7
CHAPTER XII
ON BOARD THE FLATBOAT
“PAP! I say, pap! be ye goin’ to sleep here till creation comes? It’s pitch dark, an’ me an’ Tom have got the dug-out tied fast to the flatboat, like ye told us, an’ the cap’n’s jest been in the house a tellin’ of Mr. Mortimer that he ain’t a-goin’ to wait no longer. Get up, consarn it all.”
It was Jake Bowles who spoke, and while he was thus addressing his slumbering parent he was shaking him most vigorously. Jack opened his eyes at last, and after yawning and stretching his arms, and listening to what his hopeful son had to say about the dug-out and the captain’s impatience, he began to understand the matter.
“All right,” he replied, drowsily. “Now, Jake, I want to be sartin’ that ye know what ye’ve got to do. Let me hear ye go over what I said to ye this mornin’.”
Jake began and rehearsed his instructions, and went through with them to his father’s entire satisfaction. When he had concluded Jack inquired:
“What did I say I’d give ye if ye brought Julian back here a prisoner?”
“Oh, I hain’t forgot that, I bet ye,” replied Jake, quickly. “Ye said ye’d give me his rifle an’ $10. Don’t ye forget it, pap, when ye comes back.”
“I won’t. I’m a man what allers sticks to his word. Now let me see if ye remember something else. What did I say I’d give ye an’ Tom if ye let him get away from ye?”
“A larrupin’.”
“A little one or a big one?”
“A big one – wusser than all the rest.”
“I’m powerful glad to see that ye hain’t forgot it. I’ll allers keep my promises, I told ye. Mind what ye are about, now.”
Having thus cautioned his young ally, Jack staggered to his feet and walked slowly toward the house, where he found Mr. Mortimer pacing the floor in great excitement. The captain of the flatboat had just left him, with the information that if Jack did not return in half an hour he would be obliged to start without him, for he could wait no longer.
“You have come at last, have you?” was Mr. Mortimer’s greeting.
“Hain’t you got a pair of good eyes? In course, I have.”
“I should say it was a high time. And you haven’t got your clothes, either.”
“Wal, that ain’t no fault of mine, is it? I forgot to ax ye fur some money to git ’em with, an’ the storekeeper wouldn’t trust me. I’m all ready now, if you are.”
“Then take charge of Julian and bring him on board the boat at once. Remember that I want him kept out of my sight as much as possible.”
“I give ye the word of a gentleman that he shan’t never trouble ye no more,” replied Jack significantly.
Mr. Mortimer hurried out of the cabin, slamming the door after him. As he sprung upon the deck of the flatboat he was met by the captain, who was impatiently awaiting his appearance.
“We are ready at last,” said the passenger, “and the sooner you get under way the better it will suit me.”
“Stand by the lines,” shouted the captain.
“Where’s that man?” continued Mr. Mortimer.
His companion pointed toward the bow of the boat. Mr. Mortimer looked and saw Sanders pacing back and forth as wide awake as ever.
“He must be made of iron,” said the skipper, “for he has kept up that walk ever since we landed here this morning, and shows no sign of giving out.”
“There is nothing strange in that. He is working for money, and wants to be where he can see everything that is going on. Have you told him that he can not go down the river with us?”
“Not yet.”
“Then do it at once. Use every argument you can think of to induce him to go ashore, and if you can not make him listen to reason call your crew and put him off.”
Mr. Mortimer descended the stairs leading into a little dismal apartment in the stern of the boat that was dignified by the name of “the cabin,” and the captain approached his passenger, and extending a roll of bills, said:
“I’m sorry to be obliged to say that I can’t take you to Orleans.”
“Sho!” exclaimed Sanders.
“It’s a fact. My cabin has been given up to a crazy boy and his keepers, and I can’t accommodate you. Here’s the passage money you paid me.”
“I don’t want it. A bargain’s a bargain.”
“I tell you that I can’t take you.”
“O, I hain’t no ways particl’ar as to commodation. I can hang up anywhar.”
“But I don’t want you on board my boat, and you shan’t stay either. Here’s your money. Take it and go ashore.”
“Now jest listen to me a minute, cap’n, and I’ll tell you something,” replied Sanders, approaching the skipper and speaking in a low, confidential tone. The latter, believing that his passenger was about to communicate some secret to him, leaned forward and caught the words: “I shan’t stir a peg.”
“Then I shall use force,” cried the captain in a rage. “I shall put you off.”
At the mention of the word “force” all the combativeness in the stranger’s composition arose and showed itself. His eyes flashed angrily, and doubling up one huge fist he brought it down into the palm of his hand with a report like that of a pistol.
“Look a here, cap’n,” said he, with a great deal of emphasis, “my name is – Jones.”
He had been on the point of pronouncing his own name – one that had more than once struck terror to a braver heart than the captain of the flatboat possessed – but recollected himself in time, and gave the first one that came to his mind.
“Yes, that’s my name,” he exclaimed, after a moment’s pause – “Jones —Tom Jones. I’m the peaceablest feller you ever seed when I ain’t crossed, but when I am I’m a leetle wusser than a hul passel of wild-cats. I can see through a grindstun as fur as the next man. I know why you don’t want me here, but I’m a-goin’ to stay, I can tell you, an’ if you want to see bullets fly faster than you ever seed ’em fly afore, jest tell your crew to put me off.”
As Sanders said this he placed his hands in the pockets of his coat, and when he brought them into view again, he held in each one a navy revolver. After flourishing them before the eyes of the captain he put them away again, and locking his thumbs in the arm-holes of his vest, resumed his walk up and down the deck. While this conversation was going on the crew had been busy casting off the lines with which the flatboat was made fast to the bank, and now one of them sung out: “All gone, sir.”
The captain turned, and seeing that Mr. Bowles and Julian had just come on board, and knowing that it would be useless to make any more attempts to rid himself of his objectionable passenger, gave orders to get under way.
“Haul in that gang-plank,” said he. “Get out the setting-poles and shove off for’ard. Man the larboard sweeps, and pull her bow out.”
While the crew were busy working the boat out into the river, Mr. Bowles took occasion to stroll aft and look over into the water. It was very dark, but still there was light enough for him to distinguish the outlines of the dug-out dragging at the stern of the flatboat. So far his plans were working smoothly. His only fear was that the canoe might be discovered by the pilot; but, after all, there was little danger of it, for that officer, beside being obliged to give his whole attention to directing the course of the boat, occupied a position so far from the stern that he could not look over into the water, even if he had been disposed to do so. Jack took off his hat and flourished it about his head, and instantly another hat was thrust over the side of the dug-out, and being moved to and fro was pulled back out of sight. Jake and Tom were on the alert, and Mr. Bowles, being satisfied of the fact, returned to his prisoner and conducted him into the cabin.
Julian took the seat pointed out to him, and looked around with curiosity. The cabin was a very dingy apartment, and was dimly lighted by a smoky lantern, which hung suspended from a beam overhead. It contained a rusty cooking stove, a rough table, around which were arranged four long benches to serve in lieu of chairs, and two sides were occupied by bunks in which the crew slept.
One of them, a little apart from the others, was provided with curtains, which, being looped back, revealed a very comfortable-looking bed, that was doubtless intended for Mr. Mortimer. The latter gentleman had nothing to say to Mr. Bowles when he came in, but continued his walk in silence.
Jack took a turn about the cabin, and then seating himself in a chair near his prisoner, folded his arms, rested his chin on his breast, and closed his eyes as if preparing to go to sleep.
Being heavily loaded and short-handed besides, considerable time was consumed in working the flatboat out into the river; but at the end of half an hour a gentle, gliding motion, accompanied by the “lapping” sound of the waves against her sides, told Julian that she was fairly under way.
Presently the captain came below, followed by some of his crew. The men looked curiously at the passengers, especially at Julian, who sat in his chair with his hands tied behind his back, and without any ceremony divested themselves of some of their outer clothing and tumbled into bed.
The captain, after pointing out to his passengers the beds he had arranged for them, followed their example, and presently Mr. Mortimer also sought his couch.
Julian, almost worn down by fatigue and excitement, waited impatiently for Jack to give the signal for retiring, but the latter had no intention of doing anything of the kind. He waited until the sounds which issued from the bunks told him that their occupants were all asleep, and then he beckoned Julian to follow him to the deck. A terrible fear seized upon the boy as he arose to obey. Was Jack about to throw him overboard?
He tottered up the stairs, and when he reached the deck, was astonished beyond measure and immensely relieved by an unexpected proceeding on the part of his keeper, who, instead of conducting him to the side and pitching him into the water, began untying his hands.
“What in the world does he mean, I wonder?” thought Julian. “Does he expect me to remain on board this boat if he gives me the least chance to leave it? If he takes his eyes off me for one instant I’ll astonish him.”
“What are you untying that crazy fellow for?” exclaimed the pilot, who stood with his hand resting on one of the sweeps which served as the rudders of the flatboat. “The cap’n says he’s dangerous.”
“An’ so he is,” replied Jack – “in the day-time; but at night he’s as gentle as a kitten. I’m goin’ to let him take a leetle exercise afore he goes to bed. He’ll sleep the better fur it. Ye needn’t be afeared, ’cause I can manage him. Mind what ye’re about now,” he added in a low tone, addressing himself to Julian. “I’ve got my eyes onto ye.”
Jack walked aft to talk to the pilot, and Julian, delighted to find himself once more at liberty, strolled leisurely about the boat.
The crew on watch were huddled together in the waist, and at a little distance from them, Sanders lay stretched out on the deck, apparently fast asleep. Julian walked past the prostrate forms, and taking his stand on the bow, gazed toward the shore. Half the width of the Missouri River lay between him and his freedom.
“I can easily do it,” said he to himself, “and I am going to try it. Good-by, Jack. When I set my feet on solid ground once more I will put a safe distance between you and me before I stop.”
Julian seated himself on the side of the boat and looked down into the dark, muddy water, now and then turning his eyes toward Jack and the pilot. The former kept his back toward him and his gaze turned up the river, as if he saw something there that interested him, and finally the pilot, in response to some inquiry from Jack, faced about and looked in the same direction. This was Julian’s opportunity, and he was prompt to seize upon it. Placing his hands upon the side of the boat he swung himself off and dropped into the river.
His sudden immersion in the cold water almost took his breath away, and for a moment he felt as if every drop of blood in his body had been turned into ice; but quickly recovering himself he struck out lustily for the shore.
There were two persons on board who had witnessed the whole proceeding. One was Sanders, who was wide awake, in spite of the terrific snores he uttered, and the other was Jack Bowles.
So delighted was Jack at the success that had thus far attended his plans that he could scarcely refrain from shouting.
Fearing that the pilot, if he had not also witnessed Julian’s act, might soon notice his absence, he looked about for something to occupy his attention, and found it.
“I see a snag,” said he suddenly. “Look out, or ye’ll be afoul of it in a minute.”
“I see it, too,” replied the pilot. “I was so busy talking to you that I forgot to attend to my business. Snag on the starboard bow!” he shouted. “Man the sweeps, all hands!”
The crew jumped at the word, and Jack sprung down from the pilot’s bench and walked aft whistling. Jake and Tom, who were curled up in the bottom of the dug-out, heard and obeyed the signal. They straightened up at once, and while one seized a paddle the other cut the painter with which the canoe was made fast to the flatboat, and in a moment more they were out of sight. Jack stood on the stern of the boat listening intently for fully five minutes, and then he was almost certain that he heard a splashing in the water and a smothered cry for help.
“They’ve got him!” said he gleefully. “I was afeared they might miss him in the dark. If they had, wouldn’t I have dusted their jackets fur them, though? But they’re good boys, Jake an’ Tom are. The two hundred dollars are mine, an’ the hundred an’ forty-five besides.”
By this time the snag had been passed in safety, and the watch once more huddled together in the waist to sleep until their services were again required. Jack took his stand beside the pilot, and waited for him to say something about Julian’s disappearance; but as he did not refer to the matter, Mr. Bowles went below and tumbled into bed, satisfied that no one beside himself was the wiser for what had happened.
Jack awoke long before daylight, but remained quiet in his bunk, awaiting a favorable opportunity to carry out the rest of his plans. At last the cook entered the cabin and began preparations for breakfast. Shortly afterward some of the crew crawled out of their bunks, and the captain also arose. When Jack saw him he began to bestir himself. He got out upon the floor, and after dressing himself with great deliberation, went to the bunk which had been set apart for Julian’s use. The bed certainly looked as if it had been occupied, but there was no one in it now. Jack started back with well-assumed surprise, uttering an exclamation that attracted the attention of every one in the cabin, and then rushing forward picked up something and examined it attentively. It was the rope with which Julian had been bound.
“Wal, if this yere don’t beat all natur’,” cried Jack.
“Is he loose?” asked the captain in alarm.
“That’s jest what’s the matter. He’s slipped his hands outen this rope and hid hisself somewhars. Help me find him, fellers,” added Jack, in great excitement, leading the way toward the deck; “but look out fur yerselves, ’cause if any of ye had any we’pons he’s found ’em, an’ he’ll use ’em, too.”
A slight rustling among the bed-clothes behind the curtain which concealed the bunk in which Mr. Mortimer lay, proved that that gentleman was awake and listening to all that was going on. Jack heard the noise and noticed the movements of the occupant of the bunk, but the captain and his men did not. They were too busy with thoughts of the dangerous lunatic, whom they must assist in securing, to hear or see anything. They followed Jack to the deck, and during the next quarter of an hour the greatest confusion prevailed on board the flatboat.
Mr. Bowles that morning earned the reputation of being a very courageous man; for while he continually cautioned the crew to beware of the fire-arms of which he was sure his escaped prisoner had obtained possession, he exposed himself most recklessly, being everywhere foremost in the search, and advancing boldly into the darkest corners of the hold, where no one else dared to venture. Every part of the boat was thoroughly searched, but no Julian was found; and Jack and the captain, after talking the matter over, were obliged to come to the conclusion that he had put an end to his life by jumping overboard.
The next thing was to inform Mr. Mortimer – who Jack said was some distant relative of the unfortunate youth – of the melancholy fact; but that gentleman had already learned the particulars from one of the crew, and had also made a most disagreeable discovery. Jack found him on deck, and when his eyes rested on him he stopped and gazed at him in surprise.
Mr. Mortimer’s serious air might have been put on for the occasion, Bowles told himself, but he never could have assumed that pale face. Something was the matter with him. He listened in silence while Jack and the captain told him of Julian’s mysterious disappearance, and when they ceased speaking he walked off to an unoccupied part of the deck.
The captain presently went down into his cabin and Jack joined Mr. Mortimer.
“Where is he?” asked the latter in a low whisper.
“At the bottom of the river,” replied Jack in the same cautious tone. “He was standin’ right there, jest this way,” he added, stepping close to the side of the boat, “with his hands tied behind him, an’ I come up an’ give him a leetle nudge with my shoulder an’ over he went. Nobody didn’t see me do it, either.”
“I don’t care to know how it was done,” interrupted Mr. Mortimer hastily. “I only want to be sure that it was done, and effectually.”
“It sartinly was. He couldn’t swim fur with his hands tied, could he?”
“No; but he might have been picked up. Have you seen Sanders this morning?”
“I hain’t,” replied Jack, looking about the deck, while an expression of anxiety settled on his face. “He wouldn’t save him, would he?”
“Of course he would, if he got the opportunity. If he could take that boy to a certain man whose name I could mention he would make more money by it than he ever saw. He is working against me.”
“Wal, he didn’t pick him up. I was on deck fur ten minutes arter Julian went overboard, an’ I didn’t see him at all. Mebbe he’s about somewhars.”
“No, he isn’t. He’s gone; and so is the yawl belonging to the flatboat.”
Jack started, and folding his arms gazed thoughtfully over the side into the water. Although he had not noticed the circumstance at the time, he now remembered that on the preceding day Sanders had kept as close as possible to him and Mr. Mortimer, and that he had more than once paused in his walk as if he were listening to their conversation.
Might he not by some means have become acquainted with his plans, and set himself to work to defeat them? And if Julian was so valuable to him, might he not have followed Jake and Tom in the yawl with the intention of securing their prisoner? The thought was enough to put Jack on nettles.
“Whar’s them two hundred?” he asked, suddenly.
Mr. Mortimer, putting his hand into his pocket, produced a roll of bills, which he slyly handed to his confederate, and Jack continued:
“I can’t be of no more use here, an’ you might as well tell the cap’n to set me ashore.”
“I will. I want to go myself. I am uneasy about that man Sanders. Here comes the captain now.”
“I shall have to land to do it,” said the skipper, after listening to the request of his passenger, “for I have no boat to send you off in. That strange-looking man in black has deserted us and stolen it. It was worth $60, too.”
“Say no more about that,” returned Mr. Mortimer. “Put us on dry land and I will compensate you for the loss of your boat.”
The captain gave the necessary orders to the pilot, called up his crew to man the sweeps, and in a few seconds the bow of the flatboat was turned toward the shore.
CHAPTER XIII
IN THE SMOKE-HOUSE
“IF ANY one on board that flatboat is crazy it is Jack Bowles. He might have known that I wouldn’t stay there long after my hands were untied. Didn’t I tell him that I would never go back to that camp and give him my money with my own hands? I am free now, and if he ever captures me again I shall deserve to be obliged to remain under his roof for the rest of my days. The cabin can’t be more than ten miles away. I can easily walk there in three hours, and it will be no trouble for me to slip into the house and obtain possession of my rifle and blankets without awakening Jake and Tom. Then I’ll catch my horse, go back to my camp on the bluffs after my money, and by daylight I’ll be twenty miles away.”
While these thoughts were passing through Julian’s mind he was striking out lustily for the shore. The flatboat was still in plain view, for the current carried both her and him down the river at an almost equal rate of speed. Julian kept close watch of her, expecting every moment to hear an uproar on her deck, telling him that his absence had been discovered. He little dreamed that his escape, which he had so easily accomplished, had been brought about by the assistance of his dreaded enemy, who was at that very moment creating a diversion in his favor; and he little thought, too, that the pursuers he feared were not coming from the flatboat, but from another quarter altogether. Had he looked up the river occasionally, instead of keeping his gaze so steadily directed across the stream, he would have discovered something.
A dug-out was coming swiftly down the river, its prow being pointed directly toward Julian. In the stern sat Tom Bowles vigorously plying a paddle, which he used with so much skill that it made not the slightest sound as it rose and fell in the water. Stretched out flat in the bow was Jake Bowles, who kept his eyes fastened on Julian’s head, now and then signaling to his brother with his hands, and showing him what course to steer. Julian discovered his enemies before he had swam a third of the distance to the shore, but then it was too late to make even an attempt to avoid them. He heard a hissing sound, made by the sharp bow of the dug-out as it cleft the water, and turned quickly, only to find himself in the grasp of Jake Bowles, who seized his collar with both hands and held fast to it.
“I reckon ye thought ye was gone, didn’t ye?” he cried, in a triumphant tone; “but ye hain’t, be ye? Yer ketched agin, an’ this time ye’ll stay ketched, I bet ye. Balance the boat, Tom, an’ I’ll haul him in.”
“I thought I left you at home, Jake Bowles!” exclaimed Julian. “How came you here?”
“I guess we’ve got as much right on this yere river as anybody, hain’t we? We come arter ye, that’s how we come here, an’ we’ve got ye, too.”
For a moment Julian was too astonished to move. The approach of his enemies had been so noiseless, and their appearance was so sudden and unexpected, that he was utterly bewildered. Not until Jack had dragged him half-way into the dug-out did he begin to comprehend the situation.
“Let go!” he exclaimed, “or I’ll capsize the boat.”
“Nary let go,” replied Jake. “I owe you a good poundin’ fur stealin’ them $100 from me, an’ fur knockin’ me into that hole last night, an’ I’m goin’ to give it to ye afore I let ye go. Come in here.”
“No, you come out here,” said Julian. “I’ll duck you sure if you don’t let go my collar.”
This was the second time the two boys had measured strength, and although our hero was fighting at great disadvantage, he tested the endurance and muscle of his antagonist most severely. He strove to the utmost to drag Jake into the water; but the latter had wrapped his legs around one of the thwarts and thrown his left arm over another, and Julian could not break his hold. Nor could he overturn the boat, for Tom watched the contest closely, and frustrated all Julian’s attempts by throwing the weight of his body on the opposite side of the dug-out.
Jake, in the meantime exerted himself to drag his prisoner out of the water; but finding that it was a task beyond his strength, he held firmly to Julian’s collar, determined to wait until the latter, exhausted by his furious struggles, should be obliged to surrender himself. But Julian’s endurance seemed to have no limit. He resolutely continued the contest, and all this while the canoe was floating down the river side by side with the flatboat, which was scarcely more than a hundred yards distant.
“We’re fightin’ fur money now, we are,” said Jake – “for the $145. It’s no use fur ye to kick about so, ’cause we’ve got ye, an’ we’re goin’ to hold fast to ye.”
“You’ll not get the money, even if you succeed in making a prisoner of me,” replied Julian, with as much spirit as ever.
“We’ll see about that when we’ve got ye hum. I guess if ye go a few days without eatin’ or sleepin’, an’ have the rawhide laid over yer shoulders ten or twenty times every hour, ye’ll be glad to tell us all we want to know. Come here, Tom, an’ hit him a clip with yer paddle. I guess that’ll fetch him to his senses.”
“Souse him under,” replied Tom; “that’s the way to make him give in.”
Jake was prompt to act upon the suggestion.
Julian resisted him desperately, but one or two severe blows on the fingers with the edge of Tom’s paddle broke his hold on the side of the canoe, and his head was forced under the water. Jake held him there a few seconds, and then pulled him to the surface, and after giving him time to draw a breath or two, and clear his eyes of the water, asked him if he would abandon the struggle and allow himself to be drawn into the boat.
“No,” replied Julian, not in the least daunted; “I’ll never give up while I have any strength left.”
“Stick him under agin,” said Tom, and down went Julian’s head for the second time.
Jake held him under longer than before – as long as he dared, in fact – and when he pulled him up again, Julian was incapable of any serious resistance. He gasped for breath, and tried to lay hold of the side of the canoe.
Jake, quick to improve the opportunity thus presented, exerted all his strength, while Tom kept the boat trimmed in order to prevent a capsize, and finally succeeded in dragging his prisoner out of the water. In less time than it takes to tell it he was secured beyond all hope of escape, and the canoe was shooting swiftly up the river.
It was fully half an hour before Julian moved or spoke. He lay so quietly on the bottom of the dug-out that Jake and Tom began to be alarmed, fearing that in their eagerness to take all the fight out of their captive, they had gone too far, and taken the breath out of him.
But Julian was fast recovering from the effects of his ducking, and as soon as he was himself again the brothers speedily became aware of the fact, for he began to try the strength of the ropes with which he was confined. He thrashed about at an alarming rate, rocking the canoe from side to side, until at last the water began to pour in over the gunwales, and Jake and Tom were obliged to cease paddling and trim their craft in order to keep it right side up.
But they had done their work thoroughly, and Julian, finding his efforts useless, ceased his struggles, and listened to the threats of his captors, who tried by every means in their power to compel him to tell where he had hidden his money.
During the progress of the conversation he heard some things he did not know before, and one was that his escape from the flatboat and his recapture by Jake and Tom were a part of the scheme Mr. Bowles had set on foot for the finding of the concealed treasure. He was astonished to know that while he imagined he was working for his own interests he was playing into the hands of his enemy, and told himself that Jack still had the most difficult part of the undertaking before him.
The prisoner suffered intensely during the journey up the river. The night was cold, the wind keen and piercing, and seemed to cut through his wet clothing like a knife. When at last the canoe reached the landing he was so benumbed that he could scarcely speak.
Having made the dug-out fast to a tree on the bank, Jake and Tom pulled their captive ashore, and finding him unable to stand alone, took hold of his arms and led him toward the house.
Scarcely were they out of sight when a heavy yawl, rowed by a single man, shot up to the landing and stopped alongside the canoe. The occupant sprung out, and without waiting to secure his boat, crept cautiously up the bank, and followed after Jake and Tom.
When the brothers reached the cabin they pushed open the door and entered, dragging their captive after them. Mrs. Bowles, who sat nodding on one of the nail-kegs, started up as they came in, and Julian knew from the first words she uttered that she was expecting them.
“So ye’ve got him, have ye?” she exclaimed, gleefully. “This night’s work will make rich folks outen us. An’ ye was goin’ to run away from us, was ye – from me an’ Jack, who have allers treated ye like a son ever since ye’ve been with us? An’ ye’ve got $145 hid away from us, have ye? What business have ye got with so much money? Take him out to the smoke-house an’ lock him up thar. I’m too sleepy to wollop him to-night, but I’ll tend to him the fust thing in the mornin’.”
Julian had expected a terrible beating as soon as he was brought into the presence of Mrs. Bowles, and was much relieved to know that his punishment was to be postponed for a few hours. It was the first time he had ever known Jack’s wife to be too sleepy to use the rawhide.
“An he ain’t got no business with them new suit of clothes, nuther,” said Tom, who, while his brother was searching for a candle and the key to the smoke-house, was taking some of his own ragged wearing apparel down from the nails in one corner of the cabin. “He’s got to take ’em off an’ give ’em to me. Pap said so.”
“Ye shall have ’em, Tommy,” said his mother. “Ye’ve been a good boy an’ ye desarve ’em.”
“An’ I’m to have his rifle an’ $10 besides,” chimed in Jake, angling for a word of commendation.
“So ye are. Allers be good an’ ye’ll be sartin to prosper.”
When Jake had found the candle and key, and Tom had selected the garments he intended to give to Julian in exchange for his own, the two boys led their captive out of the cabin to the smoke-house.
