CHAPTER XV. — LOST IN THE WOODS.
Yes, the two boys had escaped. When the excitement produced by the fatal shot was at its height, it had flashed upon Harry like an inspiration that then, if ever, was the time to escape. He knew that it would be at the risk of their lives, and but for one consideration it is doubtful if he would have been willing to incur the peril of the attempt. But he felt that to stay was to run a risk as great that of being compelled to join the ranks of the bushrangers, and of that he had a great dread.
The boys never stopped running till they had set half a mile between them and the camp of the bushrangers. Jack was the first to show distress.
"Hold on, Harry," he said, panting, "I am all out of breath."
Harry instantly slackened his speed.
"Look back, Jack," he said anxiously; "see if you can discover anyone pursuing us."
"I see no one," answered Jack after a prolonged look.
"They have other things to think of," said Harry. "The murder of their captain has put all thoughts of us out of their heads. When the excitement has subsided a little, I am afraid they will look for us. How terrible it was!" he added with a shudder.
"Yes," returned Jack. "I saw that man—the captive's brother—lift his weapon and point it at the captain. Almost before I could speak it was discharged and the captain fell. He must have been killed instantly."
"I little thought what lay before me when I left home," said Harry.
"I wish I knew what lies before us now," said Jack.
"I am afraid our prospects are rather dark. We must take care at any rate not to fall again into the hands of the bushrangers. I am most afraid of that man Fletcher. If he could have his way, he would show us no mercy."
"Let us go on again," said Jack. "I only stopped to catch my breath."
"You are right, Jack. The farther we get away from the bushrangers the better."
Before them was a densely wooded hill. The way had become difficult with the scrub bushes that filled up the distance between the trees. The latter were no longer the same which they had hitherto encountered, the tall and stately eucalyptus, but were smaller and wider branched.
"We can't make our way here, Harry," said Jack despondently.
"Oh, yes, we can. Besides, don't you see, the rougher and more difficult the way, the less are we likely to be followed. I am willing to go through a good deal to save capture."
"So am I," answered Jack. "You are always right. Push ahead, and I'll follow."
For three or four hours the boys kept on their way. They surmounted the hill, and found a clearer country. Finally, turning to the right they came upon an open tract. By this time it was growing dark, and the boys were feeling both fatigued and hungry.
"I think we can rest now, Jack," said Harry.
With a sigh of relief Jack threw himself on the ground.
"This is worse than any work I did on shipboard," he said.
Harry smiled.
"I don't think it is likely to cure you of your love for the sea, Jack," he said. "Though I haven't your fondness for sea life, I confess I would rather be on the deck of a good stanch ship than here."
"Harry," said Jack anxiously, "when do you think we shall find something to eat? I am terribly hungry."
"So am I, Jack. It's the hard walk that has increased our appetite."
"I have often thought I might be afloat in an open boat without anything to eat, but I never expected to be caught in such a pickle on land."
"A good many things have happened to us to-day that we didn't expect," said Harry. "Do you know, Jack, it seems the longest day I ever spent?"
"I can say the same."
"This morning we set out with Obed, free from care. We have been captured by bushrangers, taken to their camp, seen the murder of their leader, escaped, and after walking for miles through a rough wilderness here we are, tired out and in danger of starvation."
"Don't say any more, Harry," said Jack faintly. "I can realize it without your description."
"I wish Obed were with us," said Harry, after a pause. "Perhaps he could think of some way out of our trouble. He is an experienced man, and is used to roughing it. As for me, I feel helpless."
"Do you think there is likely to be any house near at hand?"
"It doesn't look like it," said Harry, shaking his head.
"I don't think I should mind much being caught and carried back by the bushrangers, if they would give me a good supper," said Jack ruefully.
"Poor Jack!" said Harry compassionately; "I do believe you are suffering for food."
"I told you so, Harry."
"My appetite no doubt will come later. At present I am not very uncomfortable. Well, Jack, there is only one thing to do. We must explore further and see if we can find any trace of a human habitation. Suppose you go to yonder knoll, and climb the tree at the top. Then use your eyes for all they are worth. They are better than mine, at any rate, for you are accustomed to use them at sea. All sailors, I have heard, are farsighted."
Jack was ready to obey Harry, feeling much more confidence in his judgment and discretion than in his own. He accordingly followed his advice, and with a sailor's agility mounted the tree. Then shading his eyes with his hand, he looked earnestly, first in one direction, then in another.
"Well, Jack?" inquired Harry anxiously, for he, too, appreciated the gravity of their situation.
There was a pause; then Jack called out joyfully: "I see a light: yes, I am sure I see a light."
"Whereaway?"
"Straight ahead, or a little to the left."
"Take a good look, Jack, so as to be sure of your bearings. Then we will make our way toward it with the best speed we can muster."
Jack scrambled down from the tree with his face actually cheerful. The prospect of a meal had put new life into him.
"Follow me!" he said. "I don't think it can be more than a mile away."
CHAPTER XVI. — THE SHEPHERD'S HUT.
Not feeling their fatigue so much now that they were buoyed up by the hope of shelter and food, the two boys plodded on. The way was at times difficult, and there was no glimpse of the light which Jack had seen from the tree-top.
"Do you think you are on the right track, Jack?" asked Harry anxiously.
"Yes, I feel sure of it," answered the young sailor.
"It would be very unlucky if we had wandered from the right direction."
"Yes, I should feel like lying down and giving up, but I am sure I am right."
Events proved that Jack was right. They came to an open place, from which they could distinctly see the light gleaming from a dwelling only forty rods away.
"There, what did I tell you?" demanded Jack triumphantly.
"You are right, Jack. I am glad enough to admit it. Now the question is, will the people who occupy the house let us in?"
"They can't be so inhuman as to refuse. Pass on, Harry."
They were not long in reaching the hut. It was one of those slab huts which are used by shepherds. They are lonely enough, the stations being in some instances twenty miles from the nearest dwelling. This was a single dwelling, the home of one of the out keepers. The chief stations are usually an aggregation of dwellings. In the yard was a pile of wood for fuel. Close at hand was a paddock surrounded by a rail fence, over which hung a number of sheepskins. All these evidences of habitation cheered the hearts of the lonely boys.
Harry went up to the door and knocked.
His knock appeared to create some commotion inside. A voice was heard, and then there was audible the barking of a dog, but no one came to the door.
"Suppose you knock again, Harry," said Jack.
"They must have heard my first knock. Perhaps they don't want to let us in."
However, Harry knocked again.
Again the dog inside barked, this time with fierce emphasis.
"Is there no one inside but the dog?" thought Harry anxiously. Having no weapon with him, he took a piece of a broken rail, so that in case of necessity he might have a means of defence.
He was about to venture on a third knock when a tremulous voice, which the boys at once recognized as that of a girl, was heard from within.
"Who are you? What do you want?"
"We are two boys who have lost our way, and are almost starved," answered Harry. "For Heaven's sake let us in, and give us something to eat."
There was a pause, the girl being evidently undecided.
"Are there only two of you?" she asked.
"Only two."
"You are sure there is no one with you?"
"No one."
"And you are boys?"
"Yes."
"What brings you here—in this lonely place, at this hour?"
"We are on our way to the gold-fields of Bendigo."
"But this is off the road."
"I know it. The fact is, we were captured by the bushrangers, and have made our escape. We plunged into the woods, thinking we were less likely to be caught and carried back."
There was a change in the girl's tone as she said: "Is this really true? You are not bushrangers yourselves?"
"No, I hope not," answered Harry with a boyish laugh.
This laugh, which sounded natural and genuine, evidently inspired the girl with confidence.
"If I let you in, will you promise to do no mischief?" she asked.
"You shall have no cause to regret admitting us, we promise that."
There was still a little pause of indecision, and then a bolt was drawn, and the door opened. The two boys saw in the doorway a pleasant-faced girl of fourteen, whose eyes fell upon them not without a shade of anxiety. But when she saw that the two visitors were boys not much older than herself, there was a look of relief, and she said: "I will trust you. Come in if you like. Hush, Bruno!"
This was addressed to a large shepherd dog that stood beside her, eying them suspiciously.
A weight seemed lifted from the hearts of the two boys, as they caught sight of the comfortable interior of the hut. On the one side of the room was a large open fireplace, on which a good fire was burning. The flickering flames helped illumine the apartment, and diffused a home-like air, which was most grateful to the two tired wanderers.
"You are very kind to admit us," said Harry. "You have no idea how great a favor it is."
"I would have let you in before, but I thought you might be bushrangers," said the girl.
"We don't look much like bushrangers, do we?" said Harry with a smile.
The girl smiled too. She was evidently pleased with the appearance of her two visitors.
"No; if I had seen you, I should have known better than to think you belonged to their band. Come in and sit down by the fire."
"Thank you."
Harry and Jack seated themselves on a settle near the fire, and the girl continued to eye them curiously.
"I suppose you are boys," she said.
"We don't call ourselves men yet," answered Harry.
"I never saw a boy before," was the unexpected remark of their young hostess.
"WHAT!" ejaculated the two boys in concert.
"I scarcely ever saw anybody," explained the girl. "My father and I live here alone, and have lived here for years. He has a flock of fifteen hundred sheep to watch and tend. Sometimes another shepherd calls here, and we had a visit from the bushrangers last year."
"It must be very lonely for you," said Harry in a sympathetic tone.
"Yes, it is; but I am used to it. Father is away all day, but he leaves Bruno to keep me company."
"Come here, Bruno!" said Jack in a coaxing tone.
Bruno eyed Jack dubiously, and finally walked up to him deliberately, and allowed himself to be stroked.
"Bruno doesn't think we are bushrangers," said Jack, smiling.
"He did at first, though," the girl replied with an answering smile. "Have you been walking all day?"
"Yes; the greater part of the day."
"Then you must be hungry."
"We are almost starved!" said Harry tragically. "Are we not, Jack?"
"I am quite starved," said the young sailor.
"Then I must get you some supper," said the girl in a hospitable tone.
"Thank you," said Harry earnestly. "Will you let me know your name?" he asked.
"My name is Lucy."
"My grandmother's name was Lucy," said Jack.
"Then you may look upon me as your grandmother," said the girl demurely.
Of course all three laughed heartily at this absurdity. Then Lucy moved about with quick steps, and soon a goodly supper of mutton-chops was fizzling in the frying-pan, sending forth savory odors that made their mouths water. Presently Lucy drew out a table, and placed upon it the chops and some cold bread.
"I would boil some potatoes," she said, "but you might not like to wait so long."
"I think we won't wait, Lucy."
"You haven't told me your name," said Lucy as they drew up to the table.
"My name is Harry Vane," said the possessor of that name.
"And mine is Jack Pendleton."
"Harry and Jack," repeated Lucy, nodding.
"Yes."
"And where do you come from?"
"From America."
"Isn't that a long way off?"
"Yes, thousands of miles off; seven or eight, I think."
"You are very young to walk so far," said Lucy, "but perhaps you rode. Did the bushrangers steal your horses?"
"We came over the sea," said Harry. "Jack is a sailor."
Lucy looked at Jack curiously, as if a sailor were a strange species of animal.
At this point Bruno raised his head, looked toward the door, and began to bark.
"I think my father must be close by," said Lucy. "Bruno is always the first to hear him."
CHAPTER XVII. — A WELCOME IN THE WILDS.
Before Lucy could reach the door, it was opened, and a stalwart man of middle age paused on the threshold, in evident surprise.
"Whom have you here, Lucy?" he asked in a tone of displeasure.
"Two boys, papa, who came here in distress, having lost their way."
"Did I not caution you against admitting strangers?" continued her father with a slight frown.
"Yes, but these are boys, not men."
Harry Vane thought it was time to start.
"I hope, sir," he said, "you won't blame your daughter for her kindness to us. We stood greatly in need of friendly help, having been robbed of everything by the bushrangers, from whom we managed by good luck to escape some hours since."
The shepherd regarded Harry keenly, and proceeded to cross-examine him.
"You say you were captured by the bushrangers?" he said.
"Yes, sir."
"When was this?"
"This morning, just after breakfast."
"Where did it happen?"
Harry told him.
"Where were you going?"
"To the mines at Bendigo."
"How large was your party?"
"There were only three of us—a countryman of ours and ourselves."
"Where is he?"
"The bushrangers robbed him and let him go."
"Why did they not release you and your friend?"
"Because, as a young member of the band told us, the captain meant to spare us to join the band."
"You are young to be travelling to the mines. What countrymen are you?"
"We are Americans."
"Humph! your story sounds well enough, but how do I know that you are not spies of the bushrangers?"
Harry Vane's eyes flashed indignantly.
"I hope you won't think so badly of us," he said.
The shepherd seemed somewhat impressed by his indignant denial, which certainly seemed genuine enough, but wanted information on one point.
"How did you manage to escape? That doesn't seem very probable, at any rate."
"We both took advantage of the excitement occasioned by the murder of Captain Stockton——" he began.
"What!" exclaimed the shepherd in profound astonishment, "Captain Stockton murdered! When? By whom?"
Of course Harry told the story, but that need not be repeated.
The shepherd listened in evident excitement.
"If this is true," he said, "nothing better could have happened for this part of Australia. This man—Stockton—is noted everywhere as the most desperate and cruel of the bushrangers. I can't begin to tell you how many atrocious crimes he has committed. He killed my brother in cold blood three years since,"—here the shepherd's face darkened—"because he defended the property of another, and tried to save it from being stolen. If he is dead I am deeply, profoundly grateful!"
"You need have no doubt on that point, sir," said Harry. "Jack and myself saw him shot down. There can be no doubt of his death."
"I believe you speak the truth. You don't look as if you were deceiving me. So you took the opportunity to give the bushrangers legbail, eh?"
"We didn't stay to bid them good-by," said Harry, smiling. "We ran till we were out of breath, but saw no one on our track. Probably it was some time before we were thought of, and our escape noticed. We have been walking ever since, and were ready to drop with hunger and fatigue when we espied the light of your cottage, and ventured to ask for help."
"You are welcome to all that we can do for you," said the shepherd, his tone changing. "I was suspicious at first, for the bushrangers are up to all sorts of tricks, but the news you have brought insures you a welcome. At last my poor brother is avenged, and the bloodthirsty villain who killed him has gone to his account. You don't know who is elected in his place?"
"No, sir, we came away at once."
"Of course, of course; I should have thought of that."
"I hope it isn't Fletcher," said Jack.
"Ha! what do you know of Dick Fletcher?"
"More than we want to. He it was who passed himself off on us as a returned miner, and betrayed us into the hands of his comrades."
"I know of him, too. He would be as bad as the captain if he dared, but he is a coward. His turn will come after a while. But, Lucy,"—here he addressed his daughter,—"you are not treating your guests very well. Where are your potatoes and other vegetables?"
"They were so hungry they preferred not to wait for them, papa."
"You may put them in the pot now. I want them, and I think our young friends will be able to eat them later."
"You are very kind, sir, but I am afraid Jack and I will not be able to compensate you. The bushrangers took all we had, and left us penniless."
"I don't want your money, boy. You are welcome to all you get in this house. We don't have visitors very often. When they do come, they have no bills to pay."
"Unless they are bushrangers, father!" said Lucy with a smile.
"If they are bushrangers, they will meet with a still warmer reception," said the shepherd grimly. "And now, daughter, hurry up supper, for I have a very fair appetite myself."
Lucy moved about quietly but actively in obedience to her father's directions. An hour later, or perhaps less, the table was spread once more, and all got up to it. The boys, though the edge of their appetite was taken away, managed to eat the vegetables with a relish, not having had a chance to eat any for a considerable time, except at their hotel in Melbourne.
After supper they sat down beside the fire and talked. Living so much alone, the shepherd and his daughter were anxious to hear all that the boys could tell them of the great world from which they lived aloof. Later in the evening, the shepherd, whose name, by the way, was Andrew Campbell, said, "Now, let us have a little music. Lucy, bring me the bagpipe."
His daughter went into an adjoining room, and brought out a Highland bagpipe, which Campbell received, and straightway began to play upon it some characteristic Scotch tunes. It was loud and harsh, but the boys enjoyed it for want of better.
"Don't you sing, Miss Lucy?" asked Harry, when her father laid down the instrument.
"No," answered the girl, smiling. "I wish I did. Father is very fond of singing."
"Aye, am I; Lucy's mother sang, but the gift has not descended to her."
"Harry is a professional singer," said Jack. "He sings in public."
"Please sing something, then," pleaded Lucy.
"If you really wish it," answered Harry.
"I shall be glad to hear you, young sir," said the shepherd.
Harry hesitated no longer, but sang at once, choosing such Scotch melodies as he knew in preference. The shepherd's eyes glistened, and he was evidently much moved.
"It calls back my early days, when as a lad I trod the heath in Scotland," he said. "You are a fine singer. I don't mind when I have enjoyed an evening as much."
"I am very glad, sir, if I have been able in this way to repay your kindness," said Harry.
"Don't speak of it, lad," said the shepherd, lapsing into his Scotch mode of speech. "We shan't miss the bit sup we have given you."
At nine o'clock all retired for the night, for the shepherd must be up early in the morning to look after his flocks. Harry and Jack slept in a small room back. They were very tired, and fell asleep as soon as their heads struck the pillow.
CHAPTER XVIII. — A DANGEROUS ACQUAINTANCE.
Though the boys were very much fatigued they were up in time for an early breakfast the next morning. It consisted of muttonchops, potatoes, bread, and coffee, and they were prepared, notwithstanding their hearty supper of the night before to do full justice to it.
The shepherd had got over his first impression, and nothing could be more friendly than his manner toward them. He gave a still stronger proof of his confidence and friendship.
"So you think of going to the mines, my lads," he said.
"Yes, sir."
"I don't know about the wisdom of your plans. It isn't all that find the gold they look for. Are you expecting to come back with fortunes?"
"They would not be unwelcome, sir," said Harry, "but we shall at any rate like the advantage of it, and we are young enough to try experiments."
"That's true; but about the gold I'm thinkin' you'll be disappointed. At any rate I'll make you an offer—the two of you. Stay here and help me tend sheep. I'll give you your living and clothes, and when you are twenty-one, I will make you a present of a hundred sheep each to start in business for yourselves."
The proposal took Harry and Jack by surprise. They could not but observe that Lucy's face brightened with hope, as she awaited their answer. It was clear that she hoped it would be favorable. It must be acknowledged that this made a considerable impression upon them. Lucy was a pretty girl, and they felt flattered by her desire that they should remain. But their resolution was only shaken, not changed. They had but to look about them at the unbroken solitude to feel that life under such circumstances would be unendurable. Both of them had led lives of activity and excitement, and neither felt prepared to settle down, but they felt grateful.
"Jack and I thank you for your kindness, Mr. Campbell," said Harry, "and consider your offer a good one. But it would be lonely for us here, and, though we may change our minds, we would like to try the gold-fields first."
"It's only natural, lads," said the shepherd. "You are young, and you crave excitement. When you are as old as I am, you won't mind the quiet. Go, then, to Bendigo, but if you have bad luck, come back here, and you shall be welcome to stay as long as you like, and to accept my offer if you feel like it then."
"I am sorry you won't stay," said Lucy, with a shade of sadness.
"I wish we could be contented to do so," said Harry. "You may be sure we won't forget your kindness, Miss Campbell."
"Do you mean me?" asked Lucy, smiling. "I never was called Miss Campbell before."
"I will say Lucy, if you will allow me."
"I would rather you did."
"Then good-by, Lucy. We shall always remember you."
"And you will come back some day?"
"If we can."
"Then good-by, and don't forget your promise."
There was a suspicious moisture in the girl's eyes, for she knew that when the young visitors were gone she would feel lonelier than ever.
"That's a nice girl, Jack," said Harry after a pause.
"That's so, Harry. I never saw a girl so nice before," responded Jack emphatically.
"Do you know, Jack," said Harry, turning to him with a smile, "it is just as well we are going away."
"What do you mean, Harry?"
"If we stayed here till we were both young men, we might both fall in love with Lucy, and quarrel over her."
"I might fall in love with her, but I would never quarrel with you, Harry," said Jack affectionately.
"No, Jack, I don't think you would. Nothing shall ever divide us."
"You are very kind to a poor sailor boy," said Jack. "You know a great deal more than I, and I am not fit to be your friend."
"Take care, Jack, I may quarrel with you if you say anything against yourself. Fit or unfit, you are my chosen friend, and I should not be willing to exchange you for anyone else I have ever met."
"Not even for Montgomery Clinton?" said Jack archly.
"Not even for him, with all his stock of trousers."
Reference was made to a young man from Brooklyn, a fellow passenger on the ship Nantucket, who had acquired the reputation of a dude, and had afforded much amusement to all on board. He will be remembered by the readers of the preceding volume, "Facing the World."
The boys did not set out on their journey empty-handed. Lucy, by direction of her father, had packed a basket with provisions enough to last them two or three days. The shepherd wished also to lend them some money, but this Harry declined.
"We might not be able to pay it back," he said.
"I shan't miss it, lads, if you don't," urged the shepherd.
"We might be robbed of it as we were of our other money, sir. We thank you all the same."
But they gladly accepted the basket of provisions, without which, indeed, they might have fared badly in that uninhabited wilderness.
"How far is it to Bendigo?" Harry had asked the shepherd.
"Twenty-five miles, or thereabouts," was the answer.
"If it were a straight road and good travelling we might be there by night."! "But it is neither. You will be fortunate if you reach there in three or four days."
"Give us the direction, and we will try it, sir."
The two young travellers, refreshed by their night's sleep and two substantial meals, made good progress, and by noon found themselves, despite the difficulties of the way, seven miles distant from the station where they had received such hospitable treatment. By this time they were hungry, and were glad to sit down at the base of a gigantic gum-tree and attack the provisions they had brought with them. They were in good spirits and chatted cheerfully. Many thousands of miles away from home, without a penny in their pockets, and with only a basket of provisions between them and starvation, they did not allow themselves to be depressed by their uncertain prospects, but looked forward hopefully.
"Jack," said Harry, "it seems so lonely here, I could easily believe that we two are alone in the world."
"It does seem so," said Jack.
"I feel a little like Robinson Crusoe on his island."
"Am I to be Friday?" asked Jack, with a smile.
Jack had read very few books, but who is there who has not read Robinson Crusoe?
"I don't think you are of the right color, Jack, but I would a good deal rather have you than Friday."
They were not so far away from human companionship as they supposed, as they soon learned to their dismay. Suddenly they heard a crunching as of steps upon the brush, and turning, they saw, with alarm, a tall muscular man with matted locks unprotected by a hat, a long untrimmed beard, and a suit hanging in tatters over his gaunt, bony figure. His eyes were fixed with a famished look upon the open basket of provisions.
The boys started to their feet in affright.
"Give me food!" said the stranger in a hoarse voice.
Harry took some bread and meat from the basket, and handed them to the stranger, who devoured them in silence. His appetite seemed enormous, and the boys saw in dismay that if he kept on there would be very little left. It was necessary, in self-defence, to limit the man's rapacity.
"More, more!" he cried, when he had eaten all that had been given him.
"We have given you all we can spare," said Harry firmly.
"Give me the basket, or I will kill you both!" exclaimed the tramp, his eyes suffused with blood, and gleaming with fierce anger.
As he spoke, he raised a knotted stick which had served him as a cane, and swung it menacingly above his head.
CHAPTER XIX. — A RUFFIAN FOILED.
Harry and Jack were brave boys, and not easily daunted, but the attitude of the stranger was so menacing, and his frame so indicative of strength, that they were both alarmed. Had their need of the provisions been less urgent they would have surrendered them without a struggle, but they felt that it was a question possibly of continued life or starvation, and this inspired them to resistance.
Holding the basket in his hand, Harry retreated behind a tree, and began to parley.
"You are asking too much," he said. "We have given you a meal. We need the rest for ourselves."
"No palavering, boy!" said the tramp roughly. "I need it more than you do. Give it to me, or I will kill you."
"If I only had some weapon," thought Harry.
While he was hesitating, the tramp with a quick movement sprang to where he stood, clutched him by the collar, and flinging him on his back put his knee on his breast, saying between his closed teeth, "Now I will kill you, young jackanapes! I'll teach you to interfere with me."
Poor Harry thought his last moment had come. He was powerless against his enemy, whose wild rage, shown in his distorted features, seemed capable of anything. His sole helper was Jack, who flung himself on the giant, and sought with his boyish strength to pull him away, but in vain.
"I'll choke the life out of you, you young beast!" exclaimed the tramp, preparing to clutch Harry by the throat. The moment was a critical one for the poor boy, whose career came near ending then and there.
But assistance came when least expected.
A man who had approached, unseen by either of the three, jumped from the underbrush and with one powerful blow sent the tramp sprawling on the ground beside his intended victim.
"You're rather out of your reckoning, you mean skunk!" he exclaimed. "If there's any killin' to be done round here, I'm goin' to do it."
"Obed Stackpole!" ejaculated the boys in heartfelt delight, and they were rushing forward to greet him, but he waved them back.
"Yes," he said, "it's Obed himself. I'll talk to you in a minute, after I've got through with this consarned villain."
By this time the tramp, though startled and dazed, was on his feet, and preparing to make a desperate assault on the Yankee. But though quite as strong, and possibly stronger than Obed Stackpole, he had now to encounter a foe by no means to be despised. Moreover, he had laid down his knotted stick, and Obed had secured it. It was a formidable weapon, and Mr. Stackpole was quite ready to make use of it.
"Give me my stick!" shouted the tramp hoarsely.
"I mean to," responded the Yankee coolly. "Where will you have it?"
He stepped back warily, as the other advanced, holding the stick in a strong grasp, while he kept his eyes steadily fixed on his opponent. He was cool, but his enemy was enraged, and rage made him incautious.
He made a desperate clutch at the stick, but with a powerful sweep Obed struck him on the side of the head, and he fell like an ox, stunned and insensible.
"That settles you, my friend, I guess," said Obed. "You brought it upon yourself, and you've got no one else to blame. Watch him, Harry, to see that he doesn't come to himself, while I tie his hands."
Obed whipped a strong cord from his pockets, and secured the wrists of the prostrate enemy, tying them securely together.
"Will you tie his feet, too?" asked Jack.
"No, it is not necessary. He can't do any harm now. I came in the nick of time, boys, didn't I?"
"Indeed you did!" said Harry earnestly. "He was beginning to choke me."
"What was it all about?"
"We had given him a meal, but he wanted to make off with the basket besides. As this would have left us utterly without food, I objected."
"The mean skunk! I'm glad I came up in time to settle him."
"Won't you have something to eat yourself, Mr. Stackpole?" asked Harry, bethinking himself that his deliverer might need refreshment.
"I don't mind if I do," answered Obed. "The fact is, I'm feeling kinder hollow. I feel a gnawin' at my vitals that isn't pleasant. This is prime fodder; where did you raise it?"
While Obed was eating—with hearty relish, it may be added—Harry related briefly what had befallen Jack and himself since they had parted company.
"You're in luck, boys," was Obed's comment. "You fared better than I, for you've had your square meals, while I've had only one besides this."
"Where was that?" asked Harry.
"At the same place where you passed the night. I got there about an hour after you left, as well as I can make out. The gal was very kind, and gave me a tip-top breakfast. I ate till I was ashamed, and then left off hungry. That's why I've got such an appetite now. Yesterday I didn't have but one meal, and I've had to make up for that."
"Did Lucy tell you we had passed the night at her father's house?"
"Lucy! Seems to me you got mighty familiar," said Obed in a jocular tone. "She didn't tell me what her name was. I suppose she looked upon me as a dried-up old bach."
"She's a nice girl," said Harry emphatically.
"So she is. I'm with you there. But about your question—I asked her if she had seen anything of two chaps about your size, and she told me enough to show me I was on your track. She told me which way you went, and I follered. She was a little shy at first, not knowin' but I might be an enemy of yours, but when she'd made up her mind to the contrary she up and told me everything. Well, I struck your trail, and here I am."
"I for one am delighted to see you, Obed," said Harry cordially.
"And I for two," added Jack, smiling.
Mr. Stackpole seemed gratified by the pleasure evinced by the boys.
"Well," he said, "we're together once more, and now we must hold a council of war, and decide what's to be done."
"With him?" asked Jack, pointing to the tramp.
"With him first of all; I take it you don't want me to invite him to join our party?"
"His room is better than his company," said Harry.
"I agree with you. According to my idea, we may as well leave him where he lies."
"But won't he starve?"
"He can get his hands free after awhile," said Obed, "but not till after we are at a safe distance. You needn't be afraid about him. Anyhow the world wouldn't lose much if he did take passage for another."
"That's so, Obed, but I wouldn't like to feel that we were responsible for his death."
At this moment the prostrate man opened his eyes, and as his glance lighted on Obed, they gleamed with the old look of rage. He tried to get up, and of course discovered that his hands were tied.
"Loosen my hands, you scoundrel!" he exclaimed.
"If you mean me by that pet name, my esteemed friend," said Obed, "I respectfully decline. I'd rather look at you with your hands tied."
"Do you want me to kill you?" demanded the tramp furiously.
"Not at present! when I do I'll let you know. Come, boys, we may as well be going. This gentleman would rather be left alone."
"Unloose me first, and I won't harm you," said the other, trying to struggle to his feet.
"I don't mean you shall. Good-by, my friend. I can't say I wish to meet you again. I will take the liberty to carry off your stick, as you won't need it with your hands tied."
Obed and the boys started off, followed by the most fearful execrations from their late acquaintance. They had scarcely gone a quarter of a mile when they met two mounted police, who halted their horses and inquired: "Have you seen anything of a man, tall and spare, dark hair and eyes. We have traced him to this neighborhood, and think he must be near."
"What has he done?" asked Obed curiously.
"Murdered a man at the mines, in a drunken brawl."
"We've just parted company with him," said Obed. "I found him experimentin' on my young friend here, but come up in time to block his game."
"Put us on his track, and we will share the reward of a hundred pounds with you."
"I'll do it. Boys, stay here and I'll go back with these gentlemen. I'll join you in an hour."
Obed was as good as his word. Within an hour he was back again, with the two policemen, followed by the man whom we have called the tramp.
His hands were more securely fastened now by a pair of handcuffs.