CHAPTER XII
RALPH THE RANGER
One thing was certain. There was no chance of obtaining the clothes at present. Probably his best course would be to wait till night, and then come back to the house on the chance of gaining Mrs. Bickford's attention. In the meantime, probably, the best thing to be done was to conceal himself temporarily in a belt of woods lying about a mile back of Abner Holden's house.
As soon as his breath was recovered, Herbert got up, and headed for these woods. A few minutes found him in the midst of them. He made his way with some difficulty through the underbrush, parting the thick stems with his hands, until he reached a comparatively open space of perhaps an acre in extent. In the midst of this space a rude hut was visible, constructed of logs, and covered with the branches of trees. In front of it, sitting on the stump of a tree, which perhaps had been spared for that purpose, sat a tall man, with very brown complexion, clad in a rough hunting suit. His form, though spare, was tough and sinewy, and the muscles of his bare arms seemed like whipcords. A short, black pipe was in his mouth. The only covering of his head was the rough, grizzled hair, which looked as if for months it had never felt the touch of a comb or brush.
Herbert, though he had never before seen this singular being, recognized him at once as Ralph the Ranger, as he was properly called in the village. For years he had lived a hermit-like existence in the forest, supporting himself mainly by his rifle. This was not difficult, for his wants were few and simple. What cause led him to shun the habitations of his kind, and make his dwelling in the woods, no one knew, and perhaps no one ever would know, for of himself he was silent, and it was not easy to draw him out.
He looked up as he heard Herbert's step, and said, abruptly: “Well, boy, what do you want?”
His manner was rough, but our hero was not afraid. He answered frankly, “I am hiding.”
“Hiding? Who from?”
“From Abner Holden.”
“Humph! Why should you hide from him? What has he to do with you?”
“I am bound to him, and he is angry with me because he thinks I interfered in a trade of his. He wanted to beat me, so I ran away.”
“Good!” said Ralph, approvingly. “Tell me about it.”
Herbert drew near, and told his story.
Ralph listened attentively.
“Boy,” said he, “I think you are honest. There are not many that can be said of. As for Abner Holden, I know him. He's a mean skinflint. Pah!” and he spit, contemptuously. “You'd better not go back to him.”
“I don't mean to,” said Herbert, promptly.
“What are your plans? Have you formed any?”
“I want to go to New York.”
“To New York,” repeated Ralph, thoughtfully. “You wish to get into the crowd, while I seek to avoid it. But it is natural to youth. At your age, it was so with me. I hope, my boy, the time will not come when you, like me, will wish to shun the sight of men.”
Herbert listened in sympathy, not unmingled with surprise, to the speech of this man, which was quite superior to what might have been expected from one of his appearance.
“When do you wish to start?” asked Ralph, after a pause.
“First, I want to get my clothes.”
“Where are they?”
“In my room, at Mr. Holden's house.”
“How do you expect to get them?”
“Mrs. Bickford, the housekeeper, is a friend of mine. I thought I might go there to-night, and attract her attention without rousing Mr. Holden. She would get them for me.”
“Good! I will go with you.”
“Will you?” asked Herbert, gladly.
He had felt a little doubt as to the result of his expedition, as, if Mr. Holden should be awake and start in pursuit, he would stand a good chance of being captured, which, above all things, he most dreaded. But with so able an auxiliary as Ralph, he knew he could bid easy defiance to Abner, however much the latter might desire to molest him.
“Yes, I will stand by you, and you shall share my cabin with me as long as you like. You are not afraid of me?”
“No,” said Herbert, quickly.
Ralph looked kindly at him.
“Some of the children run from me,” he said. “It is not strange, perhaps, for I look savage, I suppose, but you do well to trust me. I will be your friend, and that is something I have not said to any living being for years. I like your face. It is brave and true.”
“Thank you for your favorable opinion, Mr.—” Here Herbert paused in uncertainty, for he had never heard Ralph's surname.
“Call me Ralph. I have done with the title of \ civilization. Call me Ralph. That will suit me best.”
“Thank you for your kindness, then, Ralph.”
“What is your name?”
“Herbert—Herbert Mason.”
“Then, Herbert, I think you must be hungry. Have you eaten your dinner?”
“No,” said Herbert.
“Then you shall share mine. My food is of the plainest, but such as it is, you are welcome. Come in.”
Herbert entered the cabin. The only table was a plank supported at each end by a barrel. From a box in the corner Ralph drew out some corn-bread and some cold meat. He took a tin measure, and, going out of the cabin, filled it with water from a brook near by. This he placed on the rude table.
“All is ready,” he said. “Take and eat, if my food is not too rude.”
Herbert did eat, and with appetite. He was a growing boy, whose appetite seldom failed him, and he had been working hard since breakfast, which he had taken at six, while it was now one o'clock. No wonder he was hungry.
Ralph looked on with approval.
“You are the first that has shared my meal for many a long day,” he said. “Day after day, and year after year, I have broken my fast alone, but it seems pleasant, after all,” he said, musingly. “Men are treacherous and deceitful, but you,” he said, resting his glance on the frank, ingenuous face of his youthful guest, “you must be honest and true, or I am greatly deceived.”
“I hope you will find me so,” said Herbert, interested more and more in the rough-looking recluse, about whose life he suspected there must be some sad secret, of which the world knew nothing.
After dispatching the meal provided by his hospitable entertainer, Herbert sat down on the grass just outside the cabin, and watched lazily the smoke which issued from Ralph's pipe, as it rose in many a fantastic curl.
“How long have you lived here, Ralph?” asked our hero at length.
“Ten years,” said the recluse, removing his pipe from his lips.
“It is a long time.”
“Yes, boy, a long time in the life of one as young as you, but to me it seems but yesterday that I built this cabin and established myself here.”
“Are you not often lonely?”
“Lonely? Yes, but not more so than I should be in the haunts of men. I have company, too. There are the squirrels that leap from bough to bough of the tall trees. Then there are the birds that wake me with their singing. They are company for me. They are better company than men. They, at least, will not deceive me.”
He paused, and bent his eyes upon the ground. He was thinking, not of the boy beside him, but of some time in the past, and the recollection apparently was not pleasant.
The afternoon wore away at length, and the shadows deepened in the woods. Herbert wandered about, and succeeded in gathering some nuts, which he carried to Ralph's cabin. When eight o'clock came, the Ranger said: “You had better lie down and rest, my boy; I will wake you up at twelve, and we will go together to Holden's place, and see if we can get your clothes.”
To this proposal Herbert willingly assented, as he began to feel tired.
He slept, he knew not how long, when he was gently shaken by Ralph.
“Where am I?” he asked, rubbing his eyes.
The sight of the Ranger bending over him soon brought back the recollection of his position, and he sprang up promptly. Ralph showed him an easier way out of the woods than that by which he had entered, and less embarrassed by the growth of underbrush.
In half an hour they were standing by Abner Holden's house. It was perfectly dark, the inmates probably being fast asleep.
“I know where the housekeeper sleeps,” said Herbert. “I'll throw up a pebble at her window, and perhaps it will wake her up.”
He did as proposed. Mrs. Bickford, who was a light sleeper, heard, and went to the window.
“Who's there?” she asked.
“It is I, Mrs. Bickford,” said Herbert.
“What, Herbert? Shall I let you in?”
“No; I don't want to come in. All I want is my clothes. They are up in my trunk.”
“I'll go up and get them for you.”
She went upstairs and quickly returned with the clothes, which she let down from the window.
“Are you hungry, Herbert?” she asked. “Let me bring you something to eat.”
“No, thank you, Mrs. Bickford; I am stopping with Ralph the Ranger. He has kindly given me all the food I want.”
“What are you going to do? Are you going to stop with him?”
“No, I am going East in a day or two. I am going to New York. I will write to you from there.”
“I am sorry to have you go, Herbert. I wish things could have been pleasanter, so that you might have stayed. But I think I hear Mr. Holden stirring. Good-by, and may God be with you!”
She closed the window hastily, and Herbert, not wishing to get into a collision with Abner Holden, who he suspected might have heard something, withdrew swiftly. Ralph, who was standing near by, joined him, and both together went back to the woods.
CHAPTER XIII
A MOMENT OF PERIL
Abner Holden did not suspect that Herbert actually intended to leave him permanently; but when evening came, and he did not return, he became apprehensive that such was the case. Now, for more than one reason, he objected to our hero's leaving. First, because he was a strong, capable boy, and his services were worth considerable, and, secondly, because he disliked Herbert, and it was a satisfaction to tyrannize over him, as his position enabled him to do. There are some men in whom the instinct of petty tyranny exists to such an extent that they cannot feel happy without someone to exercise their authority over. Such a man was Abner Holden. He was a bully and a tyrant by nature, and decidedly objected to losing one so completely in his power as Herbert was.
When night came and Herbert did not return, he decided to search for him, and bring him back, if found, the very next day. He did not impart his purpose to Mrs. Bickford, for he was at no loss to discover that the sympathies of the kind-hearted housekeeper were not with him, but with the boy whom he wished to abuse. When breakfast was over, therefore, he merely said: “Mrs. Bickford, I am going out for a short time. If Herbert should return while I am absent, you may tell him to finish hoeing those potatoes in the garden.”
“Do you think he will come back, Mr. Holden?” asked the housekeeper.
“Yes; he will soon be tired of wandering about. He will learn to prize a good home after he has slept out of doors one night.”
Mrs. Bickford did not reply; but she did not feel quite so much confidence as her employer appeared to do in the excellence of the home which Herbert had enjoyed under Abner Holden's roof.
“It's just as well he doesn't suspect Herbert's plan,” she thought, and without further words, began to clear away the breakfast dishes.
Abner was not long in deciding that Herbert was hidden in the woods. That, indeed, seemed the most natural place of refuge for one placed in his circumstances. He determined, therefore, to seek there first.
We must now return to Herbert.
“If you will wait till nightfall,” said Ralph, “you will be more safe from pursuit, and I will accompany you for a few miles.”
This seemed plausible, and our hero consented.
Ralph went off on a hunting expedition, but Herbert remained behind, fearing that he might tear or stain his clothes, of which it was necessary, now, to be careful. How to pass the time was the question. To tell the truth, the hunter's cabin contained little that would help him. There were no books visible, for Ralph seemed to have discarded everything that would remind him of that civilization which he had forsaken in disgust.
Herbert went outside, and watched the squirrels that occasionally made their appearance flitting from branch to branch of the tall trees. After a while his attention was drawn to a bird, which flew with something in its beak nearly to the top of a tall tree not far off.
“I shouldn't wonder,” thought Herbert, interested, “if she's got a nest, and some young ones up there. I have a great mind to climb up and see whether she has or not.”
He measured the tree with his eye. It was very tall, exceeding in its height most of its forest neighbors.
“I don't know as I can climb it,” he said to himself, a little doubtfully; “but anyway, I am going to try. There's nothing like trying.”
This was a lucky determination for Herbert, as will speedily appear.
It was twenty feet to the first branching off, and this was, of course, the most difficult part of the ascent, since it was necessary to “shin up,” and the body of the tree was rather too large to clasp comfortably. However, it was not the first time that Herbert had climbed a tree, and he was not deficient in courage as well as skill. So he pushed on his way, and though once or twice in danger of falling, he at length succeeded in reaching the first bough. From this point the ascent was comparatively easy.
In a short time our hero was elated to find himself probably fifty feet from the ground, so high it made him feel a little dizzy to look down. He reached the nest, and found the young birds—three in number. The parent bird hovered near by, evidently quite alarmed for the safety of her brood. But Herbert had no intention of harming them. He only climbed up to gratify his curiosity, and because he had nothing more important to do. Though he did not know it, his own danger was greater than that which threatened the birds. For, just at that moment, Mr. Holden, in his wanderings, had reached Ralph's cabin, and Herbert, looking down, beheld, with some anxiety, the figure of the unwelcome visitor. He saw Abner enter the cabin, and, after a few moments' interval, issue from it with an air of disappointment and dissatisfaction.
“How lucky,” thought our hero, “that he did not find me inside!”
Abner Holden looked about him in every direction but the right one. He little dreamed that the object of his pursuit was looking down upon him, securely, from above.
“I don't think he'll find me,” thought Herbert. “Wouldn't he give something, though, to know where I am?”
But our young hero was doomed to disappointment. Just at that moment—the unluckiest that could have been selected—he was seized with a strong inclination to sneeze.
Alarmed lest the sound should betray him, he made desperate efforts to suppress it but Nature would have its way, and probably did so with greater violence than if no resistance had been made.
“Ker-chew!” sneezed Herbert, violently.
As he anticipated, Abner's attention was attracted by the loud noise, which he rightly concluded could hardly proceed from a bird or squirrel. He had just been on the point of leaving the cabin for some other part of the woods, but at this sound he stood still. Looking up to discover whence it proceeded, his keen eyes detected Herbert in his lofty perch. His eyes sparkled with joy.
“Ha, you young rascal!” he exclaimed. “So you are there, are you? You were going to run away, were you?”
Now that Herbert was actually discovered, his fear left him, and he became perfectly self-possessed and confident.
“Yes, Mr. Holden,” he answered, quietly; “such is my intention.”
“Boldly spoken,” said Abner, provoked by our hero's coolness, for he had hoped to find him terrified and pleading for forgiveness. “I admire your frankness, and will try to equal it. I suppose you'll give it up as a bad job now.”
“No, sir,” said Herbert, firmly.
“Take care, sir,” said Abner, in anger and astonishment. “Take care how you defy me. Come down here at once.”
“What for?” inquired Herbert, without stirring.
“What for?” repeated Abner Holden. “That I may flog you within an inch of your life.”
“That's no inducement,” said our hero, coolly.
“Do you refuse to obey me?” shouted Abner, stamping angrily.
“I refuse to be flogged. You don't get me down for any such purpose, Mr. Holden.”
“Then, by Heaven, if you won't come otherwise, I'll come up and help you down.”
The angry man at once commenced the ascent. Anger gave him strength, and, though he was unaccustomed to climbing, he continued to mount up about halfway to the first branching off, somewhat to Herbert's uneasiness, for he felt there was a chance that he might fall into Abner's clutches.
But Abner's success was only temporary. At the height of a dozen feet he began to slip, and, despite his frantic struggles, he slid gradually to the ground, tearing his coat, which he had not taken the precaution to remove, and blistering his hands.
What was to be done?
In his anger and excitement, he drew a pistol from his breast pocket, and pointed upward, saying menacingly, “Come down at once, you young rascal, or I will fire!”
Herbert was startled. He did not believe the pistol to be loaded. Still it might be.
“Will you come down?” repeated Abner, fiercely. “Quick, or I fire.”
Herbert's cheek was pale, but in a resolute voice he answered, “I will not.”
Abner Holder, laid his finger upon the trigger, and would, in his anger, have carried his threat into execution; but at the critical moment he was conscious of a violent blow, and the pistol was wrenched from his hand.
Turning quickly, he met the stern glance of Ralph the Ranger.
CHAPTER XIV
TAKEN PRISONER
“What does all this mean?” demanded Ralph, in a tone of command.
“What right have you to interfere?” said Abner Holden, sulkily.
“The right that any man has to prevent murder,” said Ralph, briefly.
“I wasn't going to murder him.”
“What were you going to do?” asked Ralph, looking keenly at Abner. “Why were you pointing the pistol at him?”
“I wanted to frighten him.”
“You meant to have him think you were going to fire. I believe you were.”
“Why didn't he come down when I bade him?”
“I'll answer that question,” said Herbert, from the top of the tree. “Mr. Holden promised to beat me if I would come down, but I didn't think that a sufficient inducement.”
“I have a right to beat you,” said Abner, doggedly. “Ain't you bound to me; tell me that?”
“I was,” said Herbert, “and if you had treated me well, I would have stayed with you; but I don't mean to remain to be abused.”
“You hear the lad's answer,” said Ralph. “I like his spirit, and I'll stand by him. He won't return with you.”
While this conversation had been going on, Abner had been slowly edging himself toward the spot upon which Ralph had thrown the pistol, which he had wrenched from him. While Ralph was speaking, he suddenly darted forward, seized the weapon, and, facing about, said, with malicious triumph, “Now, you're in my power, both of you. We'll see whether he'll go back with me or not.”
As he spoke he pointed the pistol toward Ralph.
The latter laughed contemptuously.
This irritated Abner Holden.
“I will count ten,” he said. “Unless the boy begins to come down before I stop, I fire at you. One—two——”
“Hold!” said Ralph, and, drawing his revolver from beneath his hunting-jacket, he pointed it at Abner. “Two can play at that game, Abner Holden. This revolver is fully loaded. It gives me six chances of hitting you. You have but one chance with your pistol. The moment your finger touches the trigger, your doom is sealed. I never miss my aim.”
A sickly hue overspread the face of Abner Holden. He had counted on Ralph's being unarmed. He saw that he had made an important and most unlucky mistake.
“Put down your revolver,” he said, in a very different tone. “I wasn't in earnest, you know.”
“I know nothing of the kind,” retorted Ralph. “You looked to me as if you were very much in earnest.”
Still with his revolver he covered Abner.
“Put down your weapon,” said Abner, nervously. “It might go off.”
“Yes, it might,” returned Ralph. “I will lower it, on one condition.”
“What is that?”
“That you lay down your pistol on the ground.”
Abner demurred, but finally felt compelled to do as he was commanded.
“That is well,” said Ralph, quietly. “Now, I will take care that you are not tempted by it again.”
He walked toward the pistol, lifted it, and, pointing it in the reverse direction, fired it off among the trees.
“So much for that,” he said. “Now, Herbert, you may come down.”
Herbert complied promptly. He felt the utmost confidence in the prowess and good faith of his new friend, and did not fear to descend, though his bitterest enemy awaited him beneath.
Meanwhile an idea struck Abner Holden. He saw that he was no match for Herbert as long as Ralph chose to befriend him. He resolved to enlist the latter on his side.
“Hark you, Ralph,” he said, “come aside with me. I wish to speak to you a moment.”
Ralph followed him a few paces in silence.
“Now what is it you have to say to me?” he demanded.
“About this boy,” said Abner, insinuatingly. “He is bound to me.”
“Well?”
“And the law gives me authority over him.”
“Well?”
“I want him to go back with me.”
“Well?”
“Will you promise not to interfere between us?”
“I can't promise that,” said Ralph, briefly.
“Stay a moment,” said Abner, seeing that he was on the point of leaving him; “of course, I am willing to make it worth your while. I'll give you—well, three dollars, to help me secure him, and carry him back to my house.”
“What do you take me for?” asked Ralph, looking at the other, steadily.
“For a poor man,” said Abner. “Think a moment. Three dollars will buy you provisions for a week. They couldn't be more easily earned. In fact, you needn't do anything. Only promise not to interfere between the boy and myself.”
Ralph turned upon him scornfully.
“I have promised the boy my protection,” he said, “and you would have me forfeit my word for a paltry three dollars?”
“I'll give you five,” said Abner, supposing that the sum he had offered was not sufficient.
“Not for five dollars, nor five thousand,” returned Ralph, shortly. “I thought you meant to insult me, but I see you only judge me by yourself. The boy shall not return with you. Make up your mind to that.”
“I can have you arrested,” said Abner, angrily.
Ralph laughed.
“Let that comfort you for the loss of the boy,” he said.
“I'll have the boy, too,” muttered Abner, turning to leave them.
“Where are you going?” demanded Ralph.
“I am going home.”
“Not yet.”
“Why not?” demanded Abner, facing about.
“Because I can't spare you yet.”
“What right have you to interfere with my movements?” said Abner.
“None, perhaps; but I will inquire into that afterward. It is enough that, for the present, you must stay here.”
“I shall do no such thing,” said Abner, and he again turned to go.
Ralph deliberately lifted his weapon, and took aim.
“What do you say now?” he asked.
“Surely, you will not fire at me,” said Abner, turning pale.
“Not if you remain where you are.”
“How long do you mean to keep me?” demanded Abner, sullenly.
“As long as may be necessary. That is all. Herbert, go into the cabin and look in one corner for a cord.”
Herbert soon returned with a stout cord, tough and strong.
“What are you going to do with that?” asked Abner suspiciously.
“I'm going to bind you,” said Ralph, coolly.
“I'll have the law on you for this,” said Abner, hoarsely.
“All in good time,” said Ralph. “But I advise you to consider whether the law has nothing to say against attempted murder.”
“What do you mean by that?”
“I mean that you attempted to murder this boy, and would have done so, in all probability, if I had not interfered. When I am arrested, I shall feel it my duty to make this known to the authorities.”
Abner was silent. He felt that Ralph's testimony would have an ugly look.
“Let me go,” he said, after a pause. “You needn't be afraid of my troubling either of you. Don't tie me.”
“Abner Holden,” said Ralph, “I know you, and I know you are not to be trusted. I have resolved to help this boy to escape from you, and I mean to do it effectually. For this purpose, I must subject you to temporary inconvenience. I advise you not to resist.”
He had already tied the hands of Abner Holden, who, as he looked into the fearless, resolute face of the Ranger, felt that it would not do to resist. It chafed him most to think that Herbert, his bound boy, should be a witness of his humiliation, and he scowled savagely at our hero. But Herbert showed no triumph. His was a brave and generous nature, and had it rested with him, he would have let Mr. Holden go, but he did not think it best to interfere.
Ralph quickly tied both hands and feet, and then took the helpless body of Abner into the cabin, where he placed him in one corner.
“Are you thirsty?” he asked.
“Yes,” said Abner, sullenly.
Ralph placed a cup of water to his lips. He also placed a loaf of bread beside him, which, though his hands were tied at the wrist, he would still be able to reach, and then beckoned to Herbert.
“Come,” he said, “it is time that we were going.”
Abner gnashed his teeth with anger, as he watched them issue from the cabin together, and felt how utterly helpless he was to prevent them.
CHAPTER XV
A FOUR-FOOTED FOE
Abner Holden's reflections, when he found himself left alone in Ralph's cabin, bound hand and foot, were not of the most agreeable nature. It was humiliating to find himself baffled at every point, and, for once, completely defeated in his attempt to exercise his authority over the boy who had been bound to him.
That Herbert should escape from him beyond the chance of recovery seemed now almost certain. If he were free, something might be done. But he was so securely bound that it was impossible to get free without help, and the lonely situation of the cabin made it very doubtful whether anyone would come within hearing until the return of Ralph himself. When that would be was uncertain.
Three hours passed, and still no prospect of release. The bonds chafed his wrists, and his situation was far from comfortable. He tried to loosen the cords, but without success.
“Must I stay here all night?” he thought, in alarm.
But deliverance was at hand, though its first approach was disagreeable.
A large dog entered the cabin through the open door, drawn thither, probably, by curiosity. When he saw Abner he appeared to take a dislike to him, and barked vehemently.
“Go away, you brute!” said Abner, wrathfully.
The dog, however, appeared instinctively to understand that Abner Holden was able only to threaten him, and barked more furiously than before; sometimes approaching within a foot of the helpless prisoner, and showing a formidable row of teeth, which Abner feared every moment might fasten upon his arm or leg.
Abner Holden was not a man of courage. Though his disposition was that of a bully, he was easily frightened, and the fierce look of the dog alarmed him not a little. In fact, it might have tested the courage of a much braver man than Mr. Holden.
“Go away!” he shrieked, shrinking back as far as he could from the open mouth of his persecutor.
A hoarse bark was the only reply, and the dog made an artful spring, which was only a feint, but had too much the appearance of earnest to suit his enemy.
“Oh, will nobody save me from the brute?” groaned Abner, in an ecstasy of terror. “If I could only get my hands loose!” and he tugged frantically at the cord.
Feeling how utterly he was at a disadvantage, he condescended to coax his fierce antagonist.
“Be quiet, that's a good dog,” he said, with hypocritical softness.
The dog noticed a change in his tone, and evidently viewed it with some suspicion. Still his bark became less fierce and his looks less threatening.
“Good dog!” repeated Abner, in wheedling tones. “There's some dinner.”
And he pushed over the provisions which Ralph had left.
While the dog was apparently taking his offer into consideration, a boy's voice was heard outside, calling “Carlo, Carlo!”
The dog pricked up his ears and ran out of the cabin.
“So you are here, you truant,” said the boy. “Why did you run away? What have you to say for yourself, sir?”
The dog answered by a wag of his tail.
“Oh, yes, you may wag your tail, but I've a great mind to punish you for running away, and putting me to the trouble of finding you.”
“Hello!” cried Abner, in a loud voice.
“Who's that?” thought the boy, surprised.
As the voice evidently came from within the cabin, he ventured to the door, and looked in. He was considerably surprised to see Abner Holden, whom he knew well by sight, lying bound hand and foot in the corner.
“Is that you, Mr. Holden?” he asked, in a tone of surprise.
“Of course it is,” said Abner, who was not in a very pleasant frame of mind.
“Are you tied?”
“Don't you see I am?” snarled Abner.
“Who tied you?”
“That rascal Ralph. I mean to have him hung, if I live.”
“Ralph! Why, I thought he was quiet and peaceable.”
“He tried to murder me, but changed his mind, and tied me, as you see.”
“I can't understand it.”
“There is no need of understanding it. Come and unfasten these cords. I feel stiff and cramped.”
The boy tried to unfasten the cord, but it was too securely tied.
“Where is your knife?”
“I haven't got any.”
“Then take the axe.”
There was an axe standing at the corner of the room. This the boy got, and, with the keen edge, severed the string.
Abner stretched himself to relieve his cramped limbs. Then he bethought himself of his late persecutor.
“Is that your dog?” he asked, surveying his four-legged enemy with no friendly expression.
“Yes, that's Carlo. Come here, Carlo.”
“He's been in here barking at me, and threatening to bite me, and now I'll have my revenge.”
“What do you mean?” inquired the boy, in alarm, as Abner seized the axe and swung it over his head.
“Stand aside, boy!”
“What are you going to do?”
“I'm going to kill that brute.”
“No, no, he's a good dog. He won't do any harm,” said the boy, in alarm.
“I'll kill him,” said Abner, fiercely.
The dog surveyed his enemy with suspicion. He seemed to understand that danger menaced him. He growled in a low, hoarse, ominous tone, which showed that he was on his guard, and meant to do his part of the fighting, if necessary.
His owner had retreated to the door, and now tried to call him away.
“Carlo, Carlo, come out here, sir.”
But Carlo would not come. He had no intention of shrinking from the danger that threatened him, but was bent on defending himself, as became a brave and dauntless dog, whose courage was above suspicion.
If Abner had not been so exasperated, he might have been terrified, but anger re-enforced his courage, and, moreover, he had a great deal of confidence that the axe which he held in his hand would make him more than a match for the dog.
“I'll kill him!” he exclaimed, and once more he swung the axe over his head, and brought it down with a tremendous force in the direction of the dog.
Alas for poor Carlo, if the axe had struck him! But he was wary, and knew something of warlike tactics, and with watchful eye carefully noted Abner's movements. The boy uttered a cry of alarm at the peril of his favorite, but Carlo sprang to one side just as the axe descended, and it was buried in the earthen floor of the cabin so deeply that Abner could not immediately recover it.
The advantage was thus transferred to the other side, and the dog was not slow in perceiving it.
With a bound he sprang upon his adversary, and bore him to the floor, seizing his coat between his strong teeth. He pulled and tugged at this with a strength which no ordinary cloth could possibly withstand.
“Take him off! take him off!” shrieked Abner in terror.
The boy sprang to the rescue.
“Come away, Carlo,” he said, grasping him by the collar; “come away, that's a good dog.”
But, habitually obedient as Carlo was, his young master found it difficult to get him away. He felt that he had received a grievous injury—that his life had been attempted—and he wanted to have satisfaction. Finally his master succeeded in drawing him away, but not till Mr. Holden's coat was badly torn.
The latter was crestfallen and angry, and not so grateful as he ought to have been to his young defender.
“I'll make your father pay for this coat, you young rascal!” he said.
“It isn't my fault, Mr. Holden,” said the boy.
“Yes, it is. It was your dog that tore my coat.”
“Carlo wouldn't have torn it, if you hadn't attacked him.”
“He attacked me first.”
“You had better go away, Mr. Holden, or he may go at you again.”
A low growl from the dog whom he held by the collar re-enforced this suggestion, and Abner, uttering threats both against the dog and his master, strode out of the cabin and bent his steps homeward.
As he entered the kitchen, the housekeeper turned, and, noticing his torn coat, exclaimed, “Good gracious, Mr. Holden, what's happened to you? How came your coat so badly torn?”
“It was a dog,” muttered Abner, who did not care to be questioned.
Mrs. Bickford supposed he must have taken off the coat, and the dog had torn it as it lay upon the ground.
“What a pity!” she exclaimed. “Whose dog was it?”
“Alfred Martin's. I'll make Martin pay for the coat. He has no right to keep such a brute.”
“You must be hungry, Mr. Holden.”
“Yes, get me something as quick as possible.”
“Have you seen anything of Herbert?” asked the housekeeper.
“No,” snapped Abner.
This was a falsehood, of course, but he felt rather ashamed to confess that he had seen Herbert, and that the latter had got the better of him. Mrs. Bickford perceived that he was out of humor, and did not press the question. She concluded that he was angry because his quest had been unsuccessful.