The young master of Hyson Hall

When the grocer’s buggy drove away from Hyson Hall it left two happy boys behind. A woman was soon added to the number of rejoicers, for Susan was told the great news, and Jenny, when she heard it, ran to the wheatfield to tell her father and Joel. The whole world seemed more cheerful to the people of Hyson Hall. The sun shone with great brightness, although this had been noticed before by the workers in the harvest-field.

Everything out-doors, as well as in-doors, seemed to have something bright and sparkling about it; and a fresh breeze sprang up, which, if the bells had still been hanging on the roof, would have added a merry peal to the rejoicing. But the bells were not there. Susan and Phœnix had taken them down soon after young Touron had made his precipitate retreat from the place.

The two gentlemen who came in the buggy were connected with the railroad company which owned the Thomas Wistar and other steamboats plying upon the river.

Full reports of the manner in which the boat had been run ashore had been given to the company; and now that everything of value had been taken from the Wistar, and a calculation had been made of the amount of the loss, and the value of the goods, machinery, etc., which had been saved, the two gentlemen had been sent to Boontown, to make arrangements for compensating the persons who had been instrumental in saving a portion of the boat and cargo.

Of these, the young fellows who had boarded the burning steamboat and had run her ashore deserved the principal portion of the salvage-money.

Both the gentlemen were acquainted with Mr. Welford, and they went first to his office to make inquiries in regard to Phil and his companions. Now it was that the good effect of Helen’s visit to the banker began to show itself.

Had these gentlemen come to see Mr. Welford before Helen’s warm defence of Phil had made the banker investigate, as far as he was able, the character and conduct of that young person, they would probably have heard that it would be extremely injudicious to put money into the hands of a boy who might spend hundreds of dollars in discharging old servants and in carrying on all sorts of wild and disorderly pranks in his uncle’s house.

But Mr. Welford spoke in a very different vein. Instead of urging the officers of the company to delay the payment of Phil’s portion of the salvage until the arrival of his uncle and guardian, he had advised a full and immediate payment of the money due, feeling sure that Phil would use it towards paying the interest on the mortgage. He did not know exactly how much would be necessary to stop the foreclosure proceedings, but hoped Phil’s share would be sufficient.

The gentlemen admitted that the boys’ services had been of great value. Had the Wistar floated on until the tide turned, she would have turned around with it, for her bow was more heavily loaded than her stern, and, in that case, the wind would have swept the flames over the whole vessel, and everything on board would have been consumed; or, if she had floated much longer, she would probably have burned sufficiently to have sunk in mid-channel. But the boys had prevented all that by bringing her into such an excellent moorage as Spatterdock Point.

When the two gentlemen talked to Phil in the parlor of Hyson Hall, they made him understand how thoroughly the company appreciated the brave efforts of himself and companions to save their property, and named the sum which was considered their due.

They then asked the full names of the three boys to whom the money should be paid. Chap hereupon protested that none of the money was due him, for he was not on the Wistar at all, and did not do anything to help get her ashore.

“That’s nonsense!” cried Phil. “If you hadn’t stayed on the row-boat we wouldn’t have gone on the steamboat.”

“But if the fire had burst out under you,” said Chap, “it wouldn’t have hurt me. At any rate, you’ve got to have my share, and Phœnix will give you his, too, for if you don’t have it all, this place will be sold, Wistar or no Wistar.”

“Phœnix will have something to say about that,” said Phil.

It was finally agreed that a cheque for the full amount should be made out to Mr. Welford’s order and sent to him, and he and the boys could arrange as to the proportion each should receive. Then the gentlemen left.

“If Phœnix don’t give you every copper of his share,” said Chap, “he’ll get a worse thrashing than he gave Emily.”

“Who’ll give it to him?” asked Phil.

“I will,” replied Chap. “You needn’t laugh. A fellow can do big things when he has justice on his side.”

The boys did not go into the harvest-field again that afternoon. They both went over to the Poole place, to tell Phœnix the wonderful news.

“It pays better to run a wreck into the mud,” said Phœnix, when he heard the story, “than to hoist one out of it.”

“Now, look here,” cried Chap, “it’s no use talking that way. Just wait till our wreck is hoisted out of the mud!”

“All right,” said Phœnix, “I’ll wait.”

When the matter of the division was talked of, Phœnix fully agreed with Chap to hand over the whole amount to Phil, and to wait for repayment until Mr. Berkeley’s return. Phœnix, however, made one reservation: If there should be any money left over after the Tourons’ claims had been fully paid, he would like to have a dollar and a quarter. He had lost his knife, and it would take that much money to buy him another like it. It was a dreadfully awkward thing to be without a knife. This was agreed to, and the matter was settled.

That evening, Mr. Alexander Muller came into Boontown, after a long walk. He determined to stay in town for some days, and took lodgings at the tavern which young Touron had lately left. The room that Emile had occupied was given to him, and soon after supper he was glad to hang his black straw hat on the rack in the hall, and go up-stairs to bed.

But he did not sleep well. He had bad dreams. He dreamed that he was taking a journey by rail, but he did not travel in the ordinary way. Instead of being in a car which ran upon the track, he was lying at full length upon a rail, which was carried by two brakemen. This rail seemed much unlike other rails. It was not smooth and even, but was full of jagged points and knots and sharp bends, which ran into his back and made him very uncomfortable. He moved and wriggled about, but could not get on any part of the rail where it was smooth. He tried to fall off, but he found that this was impossible. So he went on and on, the brakemen sometimes stumbling and falling on their knees, which made the jagged points run into him worse than ever.

At last he woke up, and when his eyes were fully opened, he said to himself,—

“I never slept so uncomfortably in my life. My back aches as if it had been threshed with a flail. There must be something in this bed.”

He got up, struck a match, and lighted a candle. He turned down the bedclothes, and then turned down the upper mattress, which was very thin. Under this he found a double-barrelled shot-gun. Mr. Muller was greatly astonished.

“No wonder I slept badly,” he said, “lying on this thing.”

Then he took up the gun, and sat on the side of the bed, thinking. He had heard some talk that evening, at the supper-table, about a French boy who stole a gun from young Berkeley, and also attempted to shoot him. He knew that this was the room which had been occupied by a French boy, because the landlord had mentioned it when he accompanied him up-stairs. Naturally, therefore, he connected the gun with the story he had heard.

Since his interview with Chap Webster in the barn-yard, he had thought a good deal about the story the boy had told him of the troubles at Hyson Hall. He rather liked Chap, although he had been a good deal provoked at him when he read the postal-card which had made him an object of ridicule at his boarding-house in New York. He had never seen Philip Berkeley, but the fact of his having taken a good deal of trouble to restore him his black straw hat, by posting up a notice to its owner, and leaving it in a place where it could be conveniently called for, had impressed him with the idea that Phil was a sensible and considerate boy. He felt willing, therefore, to do all he could to help the young fellow who was put to so much trouble by the absence of his uncle; and as he had, besides, a very strong desire on his own account to find Mr. Godfrey Berkeley, he had made a good many inquiries about that gentleman at the different places he had visited during the last few days, but had received no information whatever.

“I think,” said he to himself, at last, “that I will put this gun back where I found it; but I won’t put it across the bed, as it was before. There is room enough here for us both to lie very comfortably.”

So he laid Old Bruden on the farther side of the bed, with its muzzle pointed a little outward, so that he should not be incommoded, in case it should choose to go off in the night. He could not find out whether it was loaded or not, because there was no ramrod to the gun, but he felt perfectly safe with its muzzle pointed away from him. He had often slept with a loaded pistol under his pillow.