Having secured his crackers and cheese and the horse having drunk all he could, Jonas and Caleb climbed into the wagon again and continued on their way. At this moment the customer drove up with a team.
“It is no go, Eph,” said the storekeeper. “That’s Jonas in that wagon. He did not say anything about money, but I will tell you what I think: If the old man has left any money, he has got it hidden up there in the woods. Let us wait until the boy comes down here and then go for him.”
“It beats the world how everybody seems to think that the old man had left us some money,” said Jonas, as plainly as a mouthful of cracker would permit. “Everyone seems to think that the old man had money, and I believe he had, too. And it all rests with Nat. If he’s found it I am going to know where it is. Hit him hard, Caleb, and make him go faster.”
The six miles that lay between them and the village seemed to have lengthened out wonderfully, but the old horse finally covered the distance at last and drew up at the place where the boys had crossed the fence to enter the bushes. There had been somebody through there, that was plain; but Caleb’s eyes grew wild when he looked at the dark masses of brush that lay before him; and even Jonas was not quite so lively as he had been.
“I tell you it is mighty dark in there,” said the elder, getting his rifle into shape for instant shooting. “Go ahead, Caleb.”
“Now I won’t do it,” said Caleb, seizing his father’s arm and trying to push him toward the fence. “Give me the gun and I’ll go.”
But that gun was something that Jonas did not want to part with. He felt safe when he had that weapon, and that was more than could be said if Caleb had charge of it.
“Well, stay right close behind me and then nobody can hurt you,” said Jonas, speaking two words for himself and one for Caleb. “Don’t run away. The best way to fight these ghosts is to—”
“But, pap, you say there isn’t any,” Caleb reminded him.
“Now I don’t believe there is; but it is well to be on the safe side. Come on, now.”
It was hard work for Jonas to screw up his courage to cross the fence, but he finally did it at last. As soon as he was safe in the bushes Caleb scrambled after him.
CHAPTER XIII.
The Rabbit’s Foot.
Jonas and Caleb found it a hard task to work their way through those thick bushes toward the back end of Mr. Nickerson’s dooryard. There had been a path in former times, but it had been used so very seldom of late that the briers and branches had grown over it until it was pretty nearly obstructed. Caleb listened for the queer sounds that Peleg had heard while going through there, but nothing attracted his attention and he began to believe that there was nothing unusual in there. Jonas worked his way ahead without saying anything, and finally pushed the last bush aside and sprang out in full view of Nat’s camp. He cast his eager eyes around to see if any of the money had been dug up, but he could see nothing of it. Nat looked just like a hunter who was enjoying a rest after a long day in the woods.
“Well, sir, we have found you at last,” were the first words Jonas uttered. “Now where is the money that you have come to dig up?”
“What money?” inquired Nat, slowly rising to his feet.
“Aw! What money?” shouted Jonas, going under the lean-to, catching up Peleg’s valise and shaking it to be sure that there was no money in it. “I mean that money you have come here to dig up—the money that old man Nickerson hid here during the war; the money that you have been drawing on to buy him tobacco? Where is it?”
“You have the camp and you see everything that is to be seen,” said Nat. “Where the money is I don’t know. Yes, I do know,” he added to himself. “But I am going to keep it to myself.”
“Whoo-pee!” said Jonas again. “Did you come down here for nothing? I know you didn’t; and I must know where that money is and all about it, or there will be the worst whipped boy here in these woods that you ever heard tell of. Once more and for the last time, I ask you where it is.”
“You can just look around and find it for yourself,” replied Nat, who, by gradually working his way around, had succeeded in getting between Jonas and the bushes. “If Mr. Nickerson left any money I don’t know where it is. He would not leave it up here in the woods for it to rot all away and do nobody any good.”
“No, I don’t think he would do that. He thought too much of a dollar to waste it in that way; but he could leave it up here in the woods and tell you where to find it when he was through with it. Now, Nat, where is it? Tell me, honor bright, and I will give you half of it; I will, so sure as I stand here.”
“You must look around and find it, for I don’t know where it is,” replied Nat; and the expression on his face showed that he was in earnest in his decision to keep the hiding place of the money all to himself. “If you find it you can have it all.”
“I’ll bet you I do, and you will go without shoes and clothes this winter,” said Jonas, slipping his hand into his pocket and looking around at the trees as if he were searching for a switch. “I made you an offer and you won’t take it, and now I will look for myself; but first you are going to have something to remember that offer by. What do you find there, Caleb?”
“There ain’t nothing in Peleg’s valise because I have looked all through it,” replied Caleb. “But here is something I can’t see into.”
As he spoke he passed the spade over to his father, running his fingers through some dirt that still adhered to it.
“That spade has been used since it came up here, and if it could speak it would tell you something about the money,” continued Caleb. “He has dug it up and hid it away in another place.”
“Caleb, you are right” said Jonas, examining the spade. “Now where is it? Caleb, you just keep an eye on him while I cut a switch. I will bet you that he will tell all about it in less’n five minutes.”
“I can’t tell you about a thing that I don’t know,” said Nat.
“No; but you only think you have forgotten. A switch has a big means of starting one’s intellect, and when you see that swinging over your head, you will think faster than you do now.”
“Pap, I believe we are onto the track of the money at last,” said Caleb, who seemed to have forgotten all about the ghosts. “Lay it onto him good fashion, and we’ll go back home—by gracious! I wouldn’t take ten dollars for my chance.”
The words seemed to encourage Jonas, who presently pulled down a big bough and began to cut it loose. It was a large limb, larger than the one he would have taken to beat his horse with, and while he used his knife upon it, Caleb slipped around until he got on the outside of Nat, that is between him and the bushes, and stood regarding him with a smile of intense satisfaction.
“Don’t hit me with that thing,” said Nat, suddenly straightening up until he seemed to grow larger and stronger than Caleb had ever seen him look before. “If you do you will at ways regret it.”
“Oh, no, I won’t hit you with it,” said Jonas, with a sort of laugh that sounded more like the growl of an enraged animal. “I’ll just wear you out with it unless you tell me what has been going on here and all about it. You know where that money is, and I am going to find out before I let you go. You hear me?”
There was something about Nat that did not look exactly right to Caleb. He thought that his father had undertaken a bigger job than he could accomplish by endeavoring to force the boy to tell where his money was hidden, and if he could work it some way so as to get “upon Nat’s blind side” and coax him to tell what he wanted to know, why the way would be so much the easier for them. He resolved to try it, but he did not have time to try it all.
“Come now, Nat, you see how pap is going to lick you, don’t you?” said he. “Now tell me where the money is and you will get off scott free. Come now, Nat. Me and you has always been the best of friends—”
What else Caleb was going to say he did not have time to say it, that is while he was standing erect. The place on which Nat was standing was suddenly vacant, Caleb’s left arm received a wrench and his foot a trip, and both of them sent him headlong into the bushes. A moment afterward Nat dashed into the bushes and was out of sight in an instant.
“By gum!” said Caleb, slowly raising himself upon his elbow and gazing in the direction Nat had taken. “Pap, he has got away.”
“Well!” exclaimed Jonas, who being concealed from view of the boys had not seen Nat when he made his bold dash for freedom. “Has he run away?”
“Yes, sir, he has run away; and he throwed me—”
Jonas came around the tree and found that Nat was not there. He glanced all around in every direction but the boy he had hoped to try the switch upon was somewhere else. Caleb was just crawling to his feet.
“And did you stand there and let him go?” demanded Jonas, and he half raised the switch as if he had a mind to lay it over Caleb’s shoulders. “Why didn’t you stop him?”
“You might as well try to stop a hurricane as to stop that fellow,” said Caleb, holding one hand to his elbow. “I never saw a boy go so before.”
“Well, now, catch him; catch him,” shouted Jonas. “Which way did he go?”
“Out there among the bushes; and pap, I just ain’t a-going in there after him. Maybe he’ll get those ghosts on his side.”
Jonas, who had been on the point of rushing into the bushes in pursuit of Nat, stopped when he heard those words and pulled off his hat and dashed it upon the ground at his feet. Then Caleb saw that his father was afraid of ghosts as he was himself. It was only his desire to possess the money that had induced him to come there. Caleb stood holding fast to his elbow and waiting to see what he was going to do about it.
“Dog-gone such luck!” said Jonas.
“That’s just what I say,” replied Caleb. “Why did not the old man leave his money to you or mam like he had oughter do? Now nobody won’t get it.”
“Nobody except that miserable Nat,” sputtered Jonas. “I have a good notion to use the switch on you for letting him go.”
“Well, pap, you would not make anything by that. I was talking to him like a Dutch uncle, and the first thing I knew I was flat on my back, and he was just going out of sight. I did not hear anything of him from the time he struck the bushes. Do you hear him now?”
Jonas listened but all the sound he heard was the chirping of birds and the faint sough of the wind as the breeze swept through the bushes. Everything was as still as a graveyard; it seemed too still for the woods. Jonas listened for a moment and then gathered up his hat and put it on his head.
“Let’s go home,” whispered Caleb. “This ain’t no place for us.”
“That’s just what I was thinking of,” said Jonas, in the same cautious whisper. “Let’s take everything he has got in his lean-to and dig out. We shall have to hurry because it will be dark before we reach home.”
“I don’t believe in taking Peleg’s valise and gun back to him,” observed Caleb. “He brought them out here and he can take them back.”
“Well, that is so,” said Jonas, who was busy picking up the spade and pick-ax and such provisions as he could find. “But in the present opportunity we want Peleg and his pap to believe that we were here. We have got a fearful story to tell when we go back, and we want them to believe us.”
“That is so, too; but, pap, we won’t go back through the bushes, will we?”
“Not much we won’t,” exclaimed Jonas, as if he were surprised at the mere mention of such a thing. “Nat’s in there, and who knows but what he has got some of the ghosts to help him along?”
“I’ll bet you that is just what he did,” said Caleb, dropping the armful of things which he had gathered up. “I did not hear hide nor hair of him after he got into the bushes.”
Father and son were not long in picking up the things that were scattered about the lean-to (they did not find the ax because that was concealed in the bushes), and with them in their hands they beat a hasty retreat from the camp, following the course that Peleg had pursued when he was there on a former occasion. They reached the bars, stopping now and then to cast furtive glances behind them, and when they got fairly into the road their courage began to return to them.
“I will tell you just what is the matter with us,” said Jonas. “We have not got a rabbit’s foot between us.”
“I do think in my soul that that’s what’s the matter,” said Caleb, stopping short and looking at his father. “Do you reckon that Nat has one of them?”
Now a rabbit’s foot is something that is held in high esteem by the negroes at the South, and by some of the white people, too. Whenever you kill a rabbit, take one of the feet off and put it into your pocket; or, if you are already provided for in that respect, take the foot and give it to some one who has not got any. Thus equipped you are free from every danger. Ghosts can not disturb you, and if you have to pass a graveyard or a house that is haunted after dark, it will see you safely through. Beyond a doubt this was what was the matter with Jonas and his son. They had thought of their rabbit’s feet when it was too late to be of service to them. They were kept at home on the mantle piece, snugly stowed away so that they could be seized at a moment’s warning, and they had come away and never thought a word about them.
“Now did anybody ever hear of such luck?” said Jonas, in disgust. “I have a rabbit’s foot and so have you; and by leaving them at home is what has beaten us. We will go down there to-morrow or next day and see what luck we shall have.”
“Do you reckon that Nat has one of them!” repeated Caleb, who was greatly relieved to know what it was that had brought them such ill luck. “Of course he had, or he never could have called upon them ghosts to help him.”
“Dog-gone such luck,” repeated Jonas, who kept turning this matter over in his mind. “He wouldn’t go away and leave his rabbit’s foot behind when he was engaged in such business, would he? I tell you I am going to keep it in my pocket wherever I go. It ain’t safe to be without it.”
It was a long way by the road to the place where they had left their horse, and every step of the way they looked at the bushes fearful that Nat would come out at them accompanied by one or more of the ghosts. When they reached the wagon Jonas climbed in without any words, leaving Caleb to turn the horse around, and to take care of his rifle which he hastily handed to him.
“I think I will drive going back,” said he, “He is going toward home now, and perhaps I can make him step pearter than you did.”
Caleb saw through his father’s little trick, but he gave in to it without saying a word. He was going to have the handling of the rifle now, and he breathed a good deal easier as he clutched the weapon and seated himself on the seat beside Jonas. He did not care if Nat had three or four ghosts to back him up. He was a sure shot with a gun, and he was certain that there would be one ghost less in the country should one show himself.
The old horse stepped out wonderfully under the new driver, and it was not long before Jonas’s courage all came back to him and he could talk about what happened there in Mr. Nickerson’s dooryard without shouting himself hoarse.
“That there is what’s the matter with us, Caleb,” said he, turning on his seat and greeting him with an approving wink. “It beats the world, as long as I have lived in this country, that I did not think of that rabbit’s foot before I left home. But we will try them again some day—”
“It has got to be pretty soon too, pap,” interrupted Caleb. “Nat has seen that money already. He has got it hidden somewhere else.”
“I believe you are right,” said Jonas, “or else how come that dirt on his spade? And to think we had to give it up just on account of not having that rabbit’s foot! These little things sometimes make big changes in our affairs, Caleb?”
Caleb must have thought of this matter all the way home, but he breathed a little easier when the ancestral roof came in sight. His mother was there and she came down to the bars to lower them. As the tired old horse entered the yard she looked at Jonas, but the latter shook his head in a most discouraging manner.
“I just knew how it would be,” said she.
“And just on account of leaving that rabbit’s foot behind,” said Caleb.
“I noticed them, and I had a good notion to holler at you and tell you to take them with you,” said Mrs. Keeler. “But I supposed that you knew what you were doing.”
None of the family said anything more until they had got to the barn and turned the horse out, and fed him with a handful of grass, and then Jonas seated himself on a bucket, which he turned upside down, and gave his wife a full history of the events that had happened to them since they went away in the morning; that is he had the groundwork of truth for its foundation, but there was many a little item which he put in that occurred to him as he went along. Whenever he touched upon anything which his wife found it hard to believe, he always appealed to Caleb, and the latter never failed to corroborate all he said.
“And do you think that he got those spirits to help him when he went into the bushes?” asked Mrs. Keeler.
“He did; else why didn’t he make some noise while he was going through them?” asked Jonas, in reply. “He went along as still as a bird on the wing. It was of no use for anybody to try to follow him. Well, that is once we failed, but the next time we will fight him with his own weapons. Caleb, don’t you forget those two rabbits’ feet the next time we go.”
“You bet I won’t,” replied Caleb.
CHAPTER XIV.
The Storekeeper in Action.
Nat’s heart was in his month because he did not believe he could escape from Jonas, and Caleb so easily. The noise he necessarily made in running through the bushes would naturally guide them in the pursuit, and Jonas was noted for his lightness of foot, and Caleb also, for that matter. But it was now or never. The switch was being prepared for him, and in a few minutes more he would feel the full weight of Jonas’s arm; and that it would fall by all his strength, Nat did not doubt in the least.
“Here goes,” said Nat, to himself. “If I fail they can’t any more than whip me, and if I get away—”
Nat did not wait to finish all the sentence that was in his mind. He bounded from his place as if he had been set upon springs, a short skirmish with Caleb who was overturned as easily as a child, and he was safe in the bushes which closed up behind him, and the twigs in his path seemed to give away before him on their own accord. He ran down the path with all the speed he could command, jumped as far to the left as he could and stretched himself out flat on the ground and waited to see what was going to happen. By the merest accident he lay down not ten feet from his camp, and consequently he was within full hearing of their voices while they remained there.
“By gum!” said Caleb, slowly, as he picked himself up from the bushes into which he had been thrown. “Pap, he has got away.”
He heard Jonas when he came around the trees and knew when he raised the switch intending to use it on Caleb for not keeping guard over Nat. He listened in the hope that Caleb would feel the full force of that switch, for he had a long account against him and he did not think that any blow he could have received would have been amiss.
“He has got my shoes,” said Nat to himself, and it was all that he could do to refrain from speaking the words outright. “Give him a few good licks to pay him for that.”
But we know that Jonas did not use the switch upon Caleb, but talked with him about other matters. He knew when they examined the spade again to find the dirt upon it, but all thoughts that they would pursue him were turned into another channel by Caleb’s request: “Let us go home. This is no place for us.” But there was another fear that came over him just then. They were going home, but they intended to remove everything there was in his camp, provisions and all, and leave Nat to get along as best he could.
“Never mind; I’ve got my money in my hat,” said Nat, pulling off the article in question and feeling of his roll of bills. “And even if he robs me, what harm will it do? I have some more money stowed away, and it is where nobody can find it.”
Nat lay there in his concealment and waited patiently for Jonas and Caleb to get through with picking up the articles they wanted to take with them and leave the camp. He knew they would not come back through the bushes, but would go across the field and so steer clear of them. He drew a long breath of relief, and finally raised himself upon his knees as they passed out of the ravine, but still he did not think it wise to show himself until the creaking of wheels, loudly proclaiming their need of wagon grease, was heard, slowly at first, then increasing in volume as the horse responded to the whip, and when it had died away entirely he got upon his feet and made his way back to the camp. Everything that could have been of use to him had disappeared.
“Now the next thing will be something else and what shall it be?” said Nat, throwing himself upon his bed of boughs and turning the matter over in his mind. “I can’t live without something to eat—that is plain enough to be seen; and I don’t know about going down to Manchester for more grub. Of course somebody there saw Jonas when he came through, and what kind of an excuse will I make for coming back there after more provisions! I have told so many lies lately that I want to keep out of it now, if I can.”
For ten minutes Nat laid there trying to make up his mind what to do, and then got up prepared for action. He wanted to see where he had left his money, and then he would go on to Manchester and be governed by circumstances. If Jonas had not stopped there to converse upon his object of going to old man Nickerson’s fields, well and good. He would purchase some new clothes, the first he had ever owned, enough crackers and cheese to last him on his way to St Louis, come back to his camp after dark, secure his money, and then the place which had known him so long would know him no more forever. When be was away among strangers and nobody knew who he was, he would be ready to begin his life over again.
“That is what I will do,” said Nat, wending his way up the hill. “My first thing must be to get some new clothes, or when I come to put that money in the bank they will think right away that I have stolen it, and there will be more trouble for me. I should not dare to send for anyone here to prove who I am, for they would turn me out the biggest rascal upon earth, so that they could get the money; so what should I do? By George! I am not out of trouble yet.”
In a few minutes Nat arrived beside the log under which he had buried Mr. Nickerson’s money, or rather he called it his own money now, and everything looked just as it did when he left there. No one had been near it. He threw some more bushes over the place, kicked some leaves around it and then set out for Manchester. He felt his responsibility and it is not right to say that he carried a light heart beneath his jacket, for he did not. He began to see that there was a big difference in wishing for money and having it. He found that it was some trouble to take care of his treasure.
He shortly reached the road near the spot where Jonas and Caleb had left their horse, but there was no one in sight. He climbed over the fence and kept on his way, looking neither to the right hand nor the left, so impatient was he to reach his journey’s end, and finally he stood in the store where he had been several times before; but he did not know what those two men in the back part of the store were talking about. They looked up as Nat entered, and instantly a smile overspread their faces and one of them hastened forward to greet him.
“Well, if here ain’t that smart looking boy again I don’t want a cent,” said he, and he was so pleased to see Nat that he laughed all over. “Say, Jonas and Caleb have just been here, and I would like to know what made them leave in such a hurry. They did not see any ghosts, did they!”
“No,” said Nat, in disgust. “Have you been treating them to some stories, too? They left some work to do back at home, and went there to attend to it. You scared one fellow out but you can’t scare me out.”
“I never was so sorry for anything in my life,” said the man. “I saw that Peleg could be easily frightened, and so I started that ghost story on him.”
“Have you got anything to eat in the store?” asked Nat, who did not want to talk about the ghosts any more. “They took away all the provisions I had.”
“Of course we have,” said the man briskly. “What do you want? Say. Did you find that money you were looking for?”
“What money?” asked Nat, in surprise.
“Oh, come Nat, there is no use of your trying to play off on us in that style,” said the storekeeper; and there was just a shade that darkened his brow as if he were getting angry. “You went up there to dig up some money, didn’t you, now?”
“I wish you would give me those provisions and let me go along back,” said Nat, who did not much like the way the man eyed him. “I don’t know anything about any money.”
“See here, Nat,” whispered the man, putting his face close to the boy’s ear and holding his arm, “if you will tell me where that money is—”
“I tell you I don’t know anything about it,” declared Nat, pulling away from the man’s grasp. “If you don’t want to sell me some grub, I will go elsewhere.”
“Come with me; I want to see you,” whispered the storekeeper, retaining his hold upon Nat’s arm and drawing him toward a side door.
“Say what you have got to say right here,” said Nat. “There is no secret about it. I dug up no money while I was there, and I don’t care who knows it.”
“But I don’t want that everybody should know what I am going to say to you,” urged the man; and as if to add emphasis to his words he seized the boy with both hands, fairly lifted him from the floor, carried him through the side door which closed behind him. “Now will you listen to what I have to say to you?” he added, with a wicked glitter in his eye. “I have got you now, and here you are going to stay as long as I want you.”
At this moment the door opened and the customer came in. He, too, was in the plot if such it could be called, for he evinced no surprise at what he saw.
“Is the way all clear?” asked the storekeeper.
“Yes; there is no one on the streets,” replied the customer. “Now what be you going to do with him?”
“We’ll take him back in the storeroom and shut him up there,” was the answer. “What do you think of that, my boy? There you will wait until you are ready to reply to such questions as I ask you, with a big bull dog to keep an eye on you. If you try to get out there won’t be anything left of you in the morning.”
While the man was talking in this way he was dragging rather than leading Nat toward the back part of the store, and at last halted in front of a door where he released him, and began searching in his pockets to find the key. It was dark in there, owing to the fact that there were no windows to let in light upon the scene, and when he found the key and inserted it into the lock, a growl followed by a deep-toned bark came from the inside. The animal that uttered it must have been fierce; that was easy enough to be seen.
“Now you see what you’ll get if you try to get away,” said the storekeeper, throwing open the door. “I reckon you will think twice before you come any of your tricks on Benny; hey, old dog.”
Nat’s heart seemed to stop beating. If there was anything in the world that he was afraid of it was a savage dog. He looked at Benny, and rightly concluded that “he would not come any of his tricks” on that beast. He was the worst looking dog that Nat had ever seen. He was small, but he had an immense head, and his under jaw stuck out so that his teeth could be plainly seen. He was yellow all over except his head, which was as black as if he had been painted, and he was bob-tailed. He did not appear to be gratified by this intrusion at all. He would hardly get out of his way when the man pushed him aside and pointed to a box and told Nat to sit down there.
“I tell you I don’t know anything about that money,” said Nat, who was quite alarmed at the idea of being shut in that room over night with such a dog for a companion. “I will go up there with you and help you dig for it; that is if you think it is in the ground.”
“Of course we know it is in the ground or else you wouldn’t need a spade and pick-ax to throw it out with,” answered the storekeeper. “You tell us where it is, and let us go up and dig for it.”
“I can’t tell you for I don’t know;” said Nat.
“Very well; then you can stay here until you find out,” said the man, fiercely. “When you get so hungry and thirsty that you can’t stand it any longer, you just yell and I will be around. Will you tell us?”
“I have already answered your question until I am tired of it,” said Nat, seating himself on the box, with a determined look on his face. “If I stay here until I die you won’t get anything else out of me.”
“Well, good-by,” said the man, moving toward the door. “We are going up right now to look for it, and when we come back, perhaps we will tell you how much we have made. Watch him, Benny. Keep an eye on him, and if he goes near that window, just take him down and serve him the way you did that burglar that got into the store last week.”
With this parting advice to his dog the storekeeper went out followed by his customer, and Nat heard the key as it grated harshly in the lock. He sat perfectly still, he was afraid to do otherwise, for, now that his eyes became somewhat accustomed to the darkness, he could see that the dog kept his position beside the door, and seemed to be awaiting some move on his part. Once or twice he licked his huge jaw as if he were tired of waiting.
“Well, sir, I am in for it now,” said Nat, running his eye along the wall as if he were looking for that window of which the storekeeper had spoken. “I would not be safer if I were shut up in jail. That dog—Whew! I don’t want anything to do with him.”
The dog evidently knew what opinion Nat cherished toward him, for after waiting in vain for him to make some advances, he came over to Nat and laid his chin upon his knee. Nat could hardly keep from yelling when he saw the dog advancing toward him, but when he reached the boy and worked his nose as if he were trying to place his hand upon his head, his heart gave a thrill of delight.
“Well, by gum!” said Nat, unconsciously making use of the same expression that Caleb had used when Nat threw him headlong into the bushes. “I believe the dog is friendly;” and he raised his hand and placed it on the dog’s head.
Nat had never been more astonished in his life. The dog’s appearance was against him; but that was as far as it went. He was a good, honest dog in reality, and seemed to sympathize with Nat in his trouble.
“Benny, good Benny; I believe you are a good dog yet,” said Nat, reaching down and patting the animal on the side. Benny not only submitted to it, but when he saw that Nat was about to stop he worked his nose again as if he meant him to continue. “I believe now that I will try that window,” said Nat, a bright idea striking him. “Since Benny is all right if I sit here, he will be all right if I move around.”
Nat had by this time located the window, and he arose from his box and moved toward it as though he had a perfect right there. Benny moved with him, and did not raise any objections when Nat seized the staple with which the window was fastened and exerted his strength to open it. It was a heavy window, and was doubtless used for passing in and out bulky goods that would take up too much room in the store; but it yielded to Nat’s muscle at last, and by pushing it open a little way he let a flood of light into his prison and could also see what there was outside. He found that the opening gave entrance into a kind of stable yard, bounded by a shed on one side, and by pushing it open a little more, he saw that on the other side it ran down to the street. His escape was now only the question of a few minutes had he cared to leave at this time.
“Glory!” whispered Nat, closing and fastening the shutter and stooping down to caress Benny. “I dare not try it now, for fear that that storekeeper may be on the watch; but when it comes dark, we won’t stay in this house any longer. Hail! Columbia happy land!”
Nat now felt at ease. He pulled off his hat, felt of his roll of bills and then began to pat the dog and talk to him. He had certainly determined on one thing and that was to take the dog with him. He had some money, how much he did not know, and it would be the source of immense relief to him to know that he had someone whose looks would help him through.
“I will bet that there won’t be anybody pitch into me to see what I have got with me, if he only takes one look at you,” said Nat, stroking the dog’s head. “I never had a dog take up with me this way before. I tell you, Benny, you came in just right.”
It must have been two o’clock by the time Nat was shut up in that room, so he had six or seven hours of waiting to go through before the storekeeper would come around again to see how he felt over telling him where he had left that money. There was one thing about it: He would not tell him; he would die first He kept repeating this resolution over and over again until the sun went down, and it began to grow so dark in his prison that he could not see his hand before him. An hour passed, and then a key rattled in the lock, the dog gave one of his tremendous barks and took his stand in front of the door, which presently opened admitting somebody, it was so dark that he could not see a single feature on him. But it was the storekeeper. He knew him as soon as he spoke.
CHAPTER XV.
Nat Wood, Gentleman.
“Hi there!” exclaimed the storekeeper, as he threw open the door and stepped over threshold. “Keeping watch over him yet, ain’t you, Benny? I told you it wouldn’t be safe for you to try to get away. Yes, here’s some supper for you, Benny. Nat can’t have any until he gets ready to talk to me. How do you come on, Nat?”
“About as comfortably as I can, kept here in the dark and with a savage dog for a companion,” said Nat. “I wish you would take me out where it is a little lighter.”
“I could not possibly think of it,” said the man, with a laugh. “You think you are smart, don’t you! We know where that money was hidden, and we have been up there and got it.”
It was lucky for Nat that the storekeeper had come in there without a light, for the way these words were spoken fairly took his breath away. This was something that he had not bargained for. He settled back on his box trying to find something to lean against, and could not say anything to save his life.
“What do you say to that, my boy?” asked the man. “You did not know that we could find that money without asking you, did you?”
“Where—where did you find it?” stammered Nat, suppressing his excitement, and it was all he could do to utter the words.
“Oh, we found it under a tree where the old man had left it,” said the storekeeper, carelessly. “I tell you he must have gone down deep, for we dug a trench there that was as deep as we were.”
Nat straightened up again and drew a long breath. If the storekeeper told the truth, he had not yet found the money. He had not dug in the place where it was concealed in the first instance, because he did not say anything about the stone which needed a lever to pry it out of its bed.
“Well, you have done more than I could do,” said he, after thinking a moment. “You have the money—How much did you get?”
“Oh, about fifteen or twenty thousand dollars,” replied the man. “We were in such a hurry that we didn’t stop to count it. But we have enough to keep us without work as long as we live.”
“Now what is to hinder you from turning me loose?” asked Nat “I can’t do you any more good by staying here.”
“I forgot to speak about that to my pardner,” said the man, who was taken all aback by this proposition. “And he has gone away and I shan’t see him for a week.”
“And are you going to keep me here all that time?”
“We might as well. You see we don’t want you to go up and tell Jonas and Caleb about this thing, for they might make us trouble.”
“I’ll promise you that I shall not go near Jonas and Caleb. I want to get as far away from Manchester as I can. You might give me something to eat, any way.”
“Well, I will see what my pardner says about it. If you keep still—”
“Why, your partner has gone away,” said Nat.
“I mean when he comes back. It won’t take you long to stay here a week. Now if you keep still—”
“Are you going to keep me a whole week without anything to eat?” asked Nat, in surprise. “I can’t possibly live as long as that.”
“Maybe my pardner has not gone yet, and I can speak to him. Now if you keep still, that dog would not pester you; but if you get up and go to roaming around, he’ll pin you. Then you won’t tell me where the money is—humph!”
This was another evidence that the man had not been near the place where the money was supposed to be hidden. He came pretty near letting the cat out of the bag that time. Nat did not say a word in reply. He wanted the man to believe that he put faith in his story.
“Well, good-by. I shall not be in here before to-morrow morning; and if you have anything to say to me—”
“What have I got to say? You have found the money, and what more do you want?”
The man muttered something under his breath that sounded a good deal like an oath by the time it got to Nat’s ears, turned on his heel and walked out, slamming the door after him. Nat waited until the sound of his footsteps had died away, then threw himself back on his box and laughed silently to himself.
“If everybody is as big a fraud as that man, my money is safe,” said he, rubbing his hands together. “He has found the money, and yet he wanted me to tell him where it was. Now, Benny,” placing his hand upon the dog, which just then came up and put his head upon his knee. “We will wait until twelve o’clock, and then we will start for Pond Post Office. I know it is a small place but I reckon I can get some clothes there, and a couple of big valises that I can carry my money in.”
The time now seemed longer to Nat than it did before. He felt at his ease, and he longed to be up and doing. Every minute that he lingered in his prison-pen was just so much taken away from the enjoyment of his money; and he fretted and chafed over it. He wanted to get up and pace the room in order to make the time pass more rapidly away, but was checked by the thought that the storekeeper might come back there and listen at the door to see what he was doing, and thus put it out of his power to escape by the window.
“If he hears me walking about he will know that Benny and me are all right,” said Nat, “and that will arouse his suspicions so that he will put me somewhere else. I reckon I had best sit down here on my box and wait for the hours to go by.”
A short time afterward, perhaps it was two or three hours, he heard a faint rustling outside the door, whereupon the dog left him and took up his stand directly in front of it to see what was going to happen. If it was the storekeeper and he wanted to know what was going on in the room, he had his trouble for his pains. Whatever it was that made the noise outside it finally ceased altogether and then everything was quiet.
This happened two or three times, and on each occasion Nat was sure that he was being watched; but every time the watcher went away without hearing or seeing anything suspicious. At last Nat heard some sounds coming from the store which indicated that the proprietor was going to shut up for the night; and then his heart began to beat more rapidly. The time for action was fast approaching. He heard the banging of shutters, the goods which had been outside for inspection during the day, were brought in and stood up beside the counter, and finally the storekeeper’s tread was heard outside the door. He tried the lock and found that it was safe.
“Are you all right in there?” Nat heard him inquire.
“As tight as you please,” answered Nat; “but in half an hour more I will be down the road,” he added, to himself.
“You don’t know anything about that money yet, I suppose?” said the man.
“How can I know anything about it when you have got it?” asked Nat. “You have hidden it away somewhere. The best thing you can do is to take it up and clear yourself before I get out.”
“You are going to make trouble for me, are you?” said the voice, angrily. “Well, if you get tired of waiting for grub just let me know. Good-by.”
“Good-by. And it will be a long time before you see me again,” said Nat mentally.
Nat knew when the storekeeper went out and locked the door behind him, and then he heard him go down the street. He knew that he did not sleep in the building but his house lay at some distance from the store, so the coast was clear at last. He resolved to make the attempt at once, being satisfied if he were well on the street it would take a better man than the storekeeper to overhaul him. It was but the work of a few seconds to go to the window and remove the hasp with which it was confined. As the shutter swung loose he found that the moon was shining brightly and that the ten miles that lay between him and Pond Post Office could be made easily as it could by broad daylight.
“Come along, Benny,” said Nat placing both hands upon the sill and springing up so that all he had to do was to drop his legs outside. “But maybe you don’t want to go.”
While Nat was talking about it he was free; and he afterward said that he never felt anything so good as he did when he found the solid earth under his feet once more. The dog made three attempts to follow him, but the window was rather high and all he could do was to get his fore feet upon the sill and each time he fell back making more noise than was agreeable to Nat. The next time he tried it Nat seized him by the thin skin on the back of his neck, and in a moment more he was standing by Nat’s side on the ground. We say he was standing by Nat’s side; but if the truth must be told, he was prancing around all over the ground as if he were overjoyed at finding himself at liberty once more.
“I will tell you what’s the matter with you,” said Nat, after he had looked carefully around him and had drawn a bee-line for the bars that led him out into the street. “You have been shut up and deprived of your freedom so long that you don’t know what to do with yourself when you are let out. Well, you stick to me and I will see that you are not shut up any more.”
Nat’s first impulse, when he found himself outside the bars, was to strike up a whistle; but before the first note had fairly left his lips he caught his breath and looked all around to see if there was anybody within hearing. The street was silent and deserted; but that was no sign that there was not somebody stirring in the houses by which he passed so rapidly. He felt of his roll of bills to make sure that he had it, and settled down into a good fast walk, turning his head occasionally to be certain that he was not followed. There was one thing that Nat kept saying to himself: “I have had a struggle for this fortune, and now that it is fairly within my grasp, nobody need think that I am going to give it up. If I don’t enjoy it, the money can stay there until it rots.”
The next thing that Nat had to decide upon was, as he expressed it, something else. He was free but his money was not free. The way to get his fortune to St. Louis was what troubled him; and he thought about it until he arrived within sight of Pond Post Office. He began to feel sleepy, too. It was then about two o’clock, so that he had to wait for five long hours before the single store of which the village could boast would be open and ready for business. So he climbed the fence, followed by the dog, found himself a comfortable place under the protection of a beech tree and stretched himself out and prepared to go into the land of dreams. That would have been considered a hard couch by some lads who are raised in the city, but Nat had so long been accustomed to hard things that he did not mind it. He slept until the sun was well up, and his dog kept watch over him.
“Now the next thing will be something to eat, Benny,” said Nat, pausing for a while in his operations of smoothing down his hair to pat the dog on the head. “I think you could eat a good breakfast, don’t you? I tell you what we will do: If they don’t have anything at the store worth eating, we will go to someone’s house and ask for a meal. I’ve got money to pay for it.”
Nat’s next duty was to take out his roll of bills and select enough to pay for his clothes and have a little left over for a bite to eat. When this had been done he put the balance of the roll back again, and the rest into his pocket where it would come handy. Then he climbed the fence and started for Pond Post Office again. He found very few people stirring there but the groceryman was up, and to him Nat at once addressed himself.
“You look as though you had something to eat here,” said he.
“Well, yes; that’s our business,” said the man, smiling upon Nat. “Gracious! What a horrid looking dog. Will he bite?”
“Not while I am around,” said Nat. “Have you got a suit of clothes! You see I need one badly enough.”
“Well, I should say you did. I was looking at your clothes when you came up. How big a priced one do you want! We have some for $5.00 and some as high as $20.00.”
“Let me see a sorter of betwixt and between,” said Nat, as he followed the man into the store. “Something that will do to wear between here and St. Louis.”
“Are you going as far as St Louis?” asked the man, in amazement. “Then you want something pretty nice. Now there’s a suit that will jest suit you.”
Nat had never bought any clothes before, and consequently he was rather awkward about it. As far as he could see the clothes were well made (the man took his measure around the chest and of the length of his leg to make sure that they would fit him) the price suited him and he took them on the spot. Then he needed a couple of shirts, two pairs of stockings and a pair of shoes and a hat; all of which he took upon the man’s recommendation, and so his trading was quickly done.
“Now I wish to get a couple of valises to put them into,” said Nat, looking around the store and trying to select the articles in question.
“One’s going to be enough for you,” said the man. “Now here is a valise—”
“That is not the kind I want,” said Nat. “I want some old-fashioned carpet things, with a mouth like a catfish. You see I have lots of things to carry with me.”
“Are you going to walk?” asked the storekeeper, still more amazed. “Why, it must be as much as one hundred and fifty miles.”
“I don’t care how far it is, I have got to go there, unless I can find some person who is kind enough to give me a lift.”
“You can do that, of course; but I was just thinking that your legs will ache before you get there. Now you hold on a minute. I have two old carpet sacks in my garret that are doing no good to anybody, and if you will wait a minute I will bring them down to you.”
The man went to his drawer, put away the money that Nat had given him and went out, leaving him for the next ten minutes there alone in the store. What a chance it would have been for Nat to steal something; but the thought never came into his head. He was leaning back against the counter when the man left, and that was the way he was standing when he came back.
“Those are just the things,” said he, taking the carpet sacks and turning them over to see that there were no holes in them. “How much apiece for them?”
“Oh, a quarter; or, as you were raised in this country, two bits,” said the storekeeper, smiling at Nat. “How do I know that you were raised in this country? I know it by your looks. I was raised in New York. Now do you want something to eat? Well, come here. I don’t know whether I have anything that dog will eat or not. Where did you get that fellow? He would be just the one to guard a fellow’s melon patch, wouldn’t he? There, take your pick. It’s my treat.”
Nat knew enough about the ways of the country to know that the storekeeper was going to give him his provisions for nothing because of the dry goods he had purchased. The only things he could find were some crackers and cheese. He took enough of them as he thought to last him to Manchester and back, and then the groceryman excused himself once more and went into the back room with a huge knife in his hand. When he returned he brought with him a piece of fresh meat which he handed to the dog.
“I did some butchering yesterday, and I think that if that dog won’t eat anything else, he will eat fresh meat,” said he. “See him take it down.”
The dog did “take it down” and devoured his meal as if he were almost starved. It was no wonder that he wanted Nat for a master when he was going to get such good living as this. He put all the things he had purchased into one of his valises, bade the proprietor good-by and took his way back toward Manchester, feeling much lighter hearted than he did when he came down. But he did not go very far before he began looking up and down the road to see if anyone was watching him; and having satisfied his mind on this score he once more climbed the fence into the woods, and when he was safe from everybody’s view he stopped, and lowered his bundles to the ground.
“Now when I put these things down I am Nat, the tramp; and when I put on my other clothes, I am something else,” said he, taking his suit out and unfolding it before him. “Let us see how it looks to be dressed up as a white man.”
This was Nat’s object in getting so far away from the road so that he could make a change in his appearance. To take off the clothes he then had on did not require a second’s time, but it took more time than it did to put on the others. In fifteen minutes he was all dressed, and then he wished he had a looking glass to view himself. He certainly did look like a different person; and it is doubtful if any one who was acquainted with him had met him on the road, if he would have recognized him. His first care was to put what remained of his roll of bills safe in his vest pocket. There were no holes in the vest for the bills to work out, and when Nat tucked them away he felt that he was somebody.
“Now I am Nat Wood, gentleman,” said he, as he surveyed himself as well as he could by turning first one leg and then the other to make an estimate of himself. “I tell you it makes a fellow feel grand to be dressed up as I am. Supposing Caleb should see me now? Whoo-pe! He would not rest easy until he got these things on his own back.”
Having put away his old clothing in one of the valises—it is true the clothes were old but they might be of some assistance to him some day—he took a carpet sack in each hand and kept on his way toward Manchester. The dog did not know hardly what to make of it. He looked at Nat closely; for several minutes before he would follow him, and then he seemed to think it was all right and ran on as freely as he did before.
Nat did not go through Manchester; he knew too much for that. He went ahead until he saw the roofs of the houses, and then turned out into the fields and took a round-about course to bring him to the woods back of Mr. Nickerson’s yard. He was very still about it, halting every few feet to listen, and finally he stopped in a ravine where he threw his bundles off again. He was now within reach of the place where he had hidden his money. He wanted to be sure that his fortune was safe before he had anything to eat.
“Come this way, Benny; it is right out here,” said Nat. “If that is gone I am gone; but I don’t think there has anybody discovered it.”
Nat presently stood beside the log which concealed his treasure, but this time he was not satisfied with what he saw on the outside. The leaves and twigs were there as he had left them, but that did not suit him. He looked sharply through the woods in all directions, then kneeled down beside the log and with a few sweeps cleared away all the debris which he had placed there. The bags were where he had left them. He ran his hand over them and could distinctly feel the “yellow boys” with which they were filled.
“Thank goodness, it is all mine, and no one else has a right to lay a claim to any of it,” said Nat, as he pushed the twigs and branches back to their place. “Mr. Nickerson gave it to me before he died, he has neither kith nor kin to say that he owns it, and now if I can find some honest lawyer in St Louis to stand up for me, I am all right.”
This was a matter that created considerable confusion in Nat’s mind. He did not know where to go to find an honest lawyer, but he supposed that there must be some people who would look out for him if he only knew whom to speak to. As he had done a hundred times before he dismissed this matter with the thought that it would be time enough to attend to that when he reached St. Louis; and he turned to go back to the ravine where to solace himself with a handful of crackers and cheese.
CHAPTER XVI.
Benny, the Tramp.
That was a long night to Nat Wood for, if the truth must be told, he did not once close his eyes in sleep. He had an opportunity to judge of the watchfulness of his new friend, for Benny seemed to be wide awake and never once forgot that everything depended on Nat’s vigilance. He lay close beside Nat on the leaves, and once or twice he raised his head and growled at something, but nothing came near to disturb them. At the first peep of day Nat arose from his couch, he and the dog finished what was left of the crackers and cheese and then the boy went to the place where he had left his treasure and filled up his carpet sacks; and when he had them loaded he was surprised at their weight. It did not seem possible that he could carry that gold one hundred and fifty miles.
“But I may strike a railroad before I have gone far,” said Nat, drawing in a long breath and picking up a valise in each hand. “I will go as straight South as I can go, and when I become tired of my burden I can put it down and rest. I will reach St. Louis or die in the attempt.”
Nat took good care to keep clear of the road until he had passed Manchester for fear that some one would see him and recognize him in spite of his new suit, and when at last he climbed the fence into the highway, he drew another long breath and went ahead with new zeal. He did not fail to look back occasionally to see if he were followed, but every time there was no one in sight, and he was more than once tempted to believe that his struggles were over; that the money was his own, and all he had to do was to hurry down to St. Louis and deposit it in the bank. But it would be a week at least, and perhaps two, before that would happen, and in the meantime he was resolved that he would go hungry and sleepless, too, but that his treasure should be safe.
Nat wanted to buy some more crackers and cheese and feed his dog before he left the country where he was known, and with this object in view he approached the store at which he had purchased his new suit. The man was busy sweeping out, but he knew Nat in spite of the wonderful change in his appearance.
“Well, sir, you got your things, didn’t you?” said he, with the smile which Nat had noticed on his face the day before. “You are off now, I suppose? But you must not try to walk all that distance. It is too far.”
“I am off now,” replied Nat. “But I should like to have some more crackers and cheese and a bite of fresh meat for Benny, if it is not too much trouble for you to get it.”
“Of course I can. I was thinking about you yesterday after you had been in here, and there is no need that you should walk all that distance. Follow this road about twenty miles and you will strike a little village called Bridgeport. There you will hit the Alton road, and all you have to do is to pay your fare and get on board. You have money enough for that, I suppose?”
Nat selected a couple of crackers and a liberal piece of cheese from the amount the grocer weighed out to him, saw his dog devour a huge piece of beef which had also been furnished to him, leaned against the counter to rest his tired limbs and pondered upon a thought that had just then occurred to him. He had never ridden on a railroad, he did not know what to do when he got there, but what would be done with Benny!
“But there is one thing about it,” said the man, giving utterance to the thought that was in Nat’s mind. “You can’t take your dog with you on a passenger train.”
“I have been thinking about that, and the best thing I can do is to go on foot all the way,” said Nat. “I can’t think of leaving Benny behind.”
“Of course I don’t know what rules they have with their freight trains,” said the man. “Perhaps they will let you take him with you, and perhaps they won’t. You can tell when you get to Bridgeport. Good-by. I hope you will get safe through.”
Nat picked up his valises again and left the store. It seemed now that Benny was a hindrance to him rather than a success, and for a minute or two he did not know but he would prefer to give him up than keep him. It did not seem possible that he could walk all the way to St Louis and carry his treasure besides, and he looked down at Benny who gazed back at him, and wagged his tail in a forlorn sort of way as if the man had given him a bad reputation.
“No, I won’t do it Benny,” said Nat, putting one of his valises on the ground long enough to pat the dog on the head. “I’ll keep you with me until the time comes for you to show what you are made of; then if you fail me, I will know what to do with you.”
Perhaps, when Nat came to think about it, it was better after all to keep the dog and trust to luck. There were plenty of persons who met him on the road who would have been glad to snatch his valises and make off with them, if they only knew how much was in them; and with Benny there to protect him he did not think they would attempt it. So Benny was accepted on sufferance.
Nat had not proceeded very far on his road before he heard the sound of wheels behind him, and in a few minutes a man drove by in a lumber wagon. The man looked down at Nat and then pulled up his team.
“Soger, would you work?” said he, with a laugh. “You have a heavy load there. Are you going fur?”
“I am going down to Bridgeport,” said Nat. “If you have a place for me I shall be glad to get in.”
“You are as welcome as the flowers in May,” said the man. “Climb in. Gosh! What an ugly looking dog you have. Will he bite?”
“He has never bitten anybody since I had him,” said Nat, lifting his carpet sacks one after the other and putting them into the wagon with a good deal of trouble. “He won’t bite if he is let alone.”
“Well, you just bet your bottom dollar that I won’t interfere with him. What you got in there? It seems mighty heavy.”
“Yes. It is some tools that I work with. Do you know anybody in Bridgeport?”
This question got the man off on a new subject, and during the ride to Bridgeport, and he went all the way so that Nat had his arms well rested by the time they got there, he never referred to the contents of the valises again. Benny ran along the wagon in front of him, and every time the man saw him he would remark on his savage appearance, and say that he did not see what a man could be thinking of to have such an ill-looking brute hanging around him. The man had been in the Confederate army, too, and during the ride he kept Nat interested in his exploits, until Nat was really surprised when he pointed to the roofs of some houses in the distance and said:
“We are near our journey’s end at last. There is Bridgeport Did you say that you wanted to get out at the depot? Well, I am going right there.”
After a few cracks with the whip and turning several corners the man drew up at a long, low building, and Nat, after thanking him for his kindness, took his valises and got out. Presently he was standing in front of an open window, on the other side of which, on a high stool, was perched a clerk who was busy smoking a cigar.
“Well, my friend, what can I do for you on this fine morning?” was the way he greeted Nat.
“I want to know what is the fare to St Louis,” said Nat.
“Eight seventy-five,” said the clerk, laying down his cigar and reaching for a ticket “Do you want to go there?”
“Yes, sir; but I want to know in the first place whether or not you will take my dog on a passenger train,” said Nat.
“Where’s the dog?”
“He is right here.”
“Hold him up so that I can see him.”
“I can’t. He is too heavy.”
The clerk reached for his cigar again, got down from his stool and unlocked the door leading into his room. He came out of it, but He went back in less time than it takes to tell it.
“Good Lord! Do you want to take that beast on the train?” said he. He vanished in his room on the instant and closed the door, all except a little opening through which he talked to Nat. “No, sir. There is not a baggage-smasher on the road who will take charge of that dog between here and St. Louis. You must be crazy.”
“Well, would they take him on a freight train?”
“Cer-tainly not. We want to have some men to handle the freight train when they get to St. Louis, don’t we?”
“I suppose you do; but what is the reason you can’t have them any way?”
“Why, that dog will eat the train men all up, if he once gets in action. No, sir. You can’t take that beast on any train on this road.”
“Then I don’t see any way but for me to go on foot,” said Nat, who was very much disappointed.
“That’s the only way that I know of, unless you will kill the dog.”
“I won’t do that, you bet. Does this road go straight to St. Louis?”
“As straight as a die, and that’s the way,” said the clerk, pointing out the direction. “I don’t see what you want with that thing. The best thing you can do is to kill him.”
Nat picked up his valises, walked slowly out of the other side of the depot and looked down the track. For miles it was perfectly straight, and there was not another house within sight. His arms ached awfully when he thought of the many miles of such track he would have to face during his tramp, but he never once was guilty of a traitorous thought to Benny. They were in for it, and the sooner they started in on it, the sooner it would be done.
“Now the first thing to be done, Benny, is to lay in a lot of provisions,” said Nat, as if the dog could understand every word he said. “And the next thing is to start on our way. Let us go down this way and see what we can find.”
Nat had set out with the intention of finding a grocery store and a butcher shop at which to purchase his provisions, but he had not made many steps before he found one much sooner than he had expected; or rather, some thing who kept guard over it saw him coming down the street and sprang to meet him half way. It was the big dog which kept watch over the butcher stand. He saw Benny, he did not like the looks of him and proceeded to let him know it in language that anybody could understand. He came at full speed down the road, seize Benny by the neck and rolled him over in the gutter. They were both fair sized dogs, and those who saw the movement were pretty certain that they were about to witness a good fight; but it was all over in less than two seconds, Benny seemed surprised to find himself in the gutter, turned his head to see who it was that had dared to molest him and went to work in earnest to put a stop to it. He seized his assailant by the foreleg, but before he had taken a fairly good hold the butcher’s dog set up a fearful howl, slunk out of the fight as quickly as he could and limping on three legs, howling at every jump, he went back to his place in the butcher’s shop. A moment later the butcher appeared. Nat knew that it was the butcher, for his coat was off, he had his apron on and his sleeves were rolled up.
“Now, Benny, you have got me into a terrible scrape,” said Nat, reaching down to give the dog a reassuring pat. “He will want to kill you, but he will have to kill me first.”