Never did one person do another a greater injustice than did Harvey Bradley when he believed that either Hugh O'Hara or any one else had aught to do with the absence of his little sister Dollie. No men had a hand in the sad business, nor could any one have been led to harm a hair of her head. Had Harvey asked for help, no one in the village would have held back from doing all that could be done to restore the child to her friends.
The first news that came to Hugh O'Hara's cabin of the loss of the child was brought by Jack Hansell, who went thither on a far different errand. After a long talk on business, he gave the tidings, adding:
"I met him at the creek, but thought I wouldn't tell him, for it would do no good. I kept my eyes open for the gal, but seen nothing of her."
Hugh jerked the pipe from his mouth.
"What's that you are saying? The little girl lost?"
"That's it; she's been missing since noon; they think she come up the path and got lost in the mountains."
"Good gracious!" gasped Hugh, starting to his feet, "that is bad; do you know," he added, turning to Tom and speaking with a slight tremor, "that that little girl Dollie is about the age my Jennie was when she died?"
"I hadn't thought of that," replied Tom.
"And," continued Hugh, swallowing a lump in his throat, "she looks so much like Jennie that I've often felt as if I would give all I have—which ain't much—to hold the little one on my knee as I used to hold my baby. She is a sweet child and likes me; we've had many a talk together that no one beside us knows about. She's so gentle, so innocent, so good that it seems to me I see my own darling before me when she looks up in my face. Come, boys," he added, decisively, as he walked to the farther end of the room, picked up a lantern and lit the candle inside.
"Come where?" asked Tom, in amazement.
Hugh turned half angrily toward him.
"Do you think that I could rest while that child is lost in the mountains? Mr. Bradley hasn't acted right toward us and I bear him no good will, but this isn't he—it's a little child—she looks and acts like my Jennie, that's dead and gone."
"But, Hugh, you forget—what about the place?"
"Let it go to the dogs for all I care! What does it amount to against the life of the little one? But we'll let Jack stay; if any of the boys come, send them out to help in the hunt; it'll do them more good than to break the law."
"Suppose some that are strangers come?" said Jack with a grin.
Hugh O'Hara gave a hollow laugh.
"Send them out, too, to help in the search; we'll be sure to find her when the whole country gets to work. If I was down in the village I would have every man, woman and child in the woods, and wouldn't let them eat or drink or sleep till she's found. Tom, there's no one that knows the woods better than we and Nero. Let's be off!"
The door was drawn inward, and Jack Hansell was left alone. He lit his pipe, smoked it out, refilled it and was in the act of refilling it, when Harvey Bradley came in—as has been made known in another place. While the man sat smoking and alone in the cabin, he fell to brooding over the troubles at the mills. Thus it came to pass that his feelings were so bitter at the time the superintendent entered that he kept back every hint that the absent men were engaged in the most "honest" business in the world—that is, they were looking for the missing child.
Meanwhile Hugh and Tom went at the task not only with zeal, but with a sagacity that gave promise of good results. As Hugh had said, they knew every foot of the mountains for miles, they were free from the flurry that at first ran away with the judgment of the superintendent, and they were used to prowling through the woods. Still further Nero had been trained to follow the faintest footprints.
"Now, Tom," said the leader, when they had walked a short ways, "we can't do anything till we get on the trail of the little one."
"What do you think has become of her?"
"She's somewhere in the woods asleep or dead, with the chances about even for either."
"Jack says she was seen coming up the mountain path early this afternoon."
"Well, she has kept to it till she has either slipped out of the path without knowing it or she has done it on purpose. She has strolled along until it became dark or she was tired. Then she has lain down on the leaves and gone to sleep. Nero, find the trail of the little girl."
"But," said Tom, "the night is so cold."
"So it is, but if the girl went out to play she was well clad, and, if she knew enough, she has crept under the lee of a rock or into the bushes, where the wind can't reach her. If she did the same, she hasn't frozen to death."
"But there are wild animals in these parts."
"I know that, and she would make a meal that any of them would be glad to get; we can only hope they didn't find her."
Just then Nero, who had been nosing the path in front, uttered a whine and turned aside. Hugh held up the lantern and saw that he had gone to the right. He was following a trail of some kind; whether it was that of the one whom they were seeking was to be learned. It would take a fine scent to trace the tiny footsteps under the carpet of snow, but such an exploit is not one-tenth as wonderful as that of the trained dogs in Georgia, which will stick to the track of a convict when it has been trampled upon by hundreds of others wearing similar dress and shoes, and will keep to it for miles by running parallel to the trail and at a distance of a hundred feet.
But in the latter case the canines have an advantage at the start; they are put upon the track or directed to hunt for it where it is known to exist; they are given a clew in some form.
The hound Nero was skilful in taking a scent, but his ability was not to be compared to that of the dogs to which I have referred, nor indeed was it necessary that it should be. But he had great intelligence, and acted as if he understood every word said to him by his master. He had saved Hugh and his friends many a time by giving warning from afar of the approach of strange parties. It may seem incredible that he should know what was wanted of him, but there is the best reason for saying he understood it all. Having no part of the little one's clothing to help, he was without the clew which would appear to be indispensable. His master, however, was satisfied the dog had struck the right trail.
"Stick to it, Nero," said Hugh, encouragingly, "not too fast, but be sure you're right."
Without pause, the two followed the dog, Hugh in front with lantern in hand. The woods were so cluttered with undergrowth that they could not go fast, seeing which Nero suited his pace to theirs. Now and then he ran ahead, as if impatient with the slow progress of the couple, and then he calmly awaited their approach.
"Hark!"
The single word "Dollie!" rang through the arches of the woods. They recognized the voice as that of the superintendent, who was hurrying over the path they had left, and who was not far away. In fact, Hugh held the lantern in front of him so as to hide its rays.
"I am sorry for him," he said, "but we don't want him with us."
"It cannot be," remarked Tom, after they had struggled further, "that she has gone as far as this; Nero must be off the track."
At this moment the dog emitted a low, baying whine that would have startled any one had he not known its meaning. It was the signal which the remarkable animal always gave when close to the end of a trail.
"We shall soon know the worst," said Hugh, crashing through the wood with such haste that Tom had to hurry almost into a trot to save himself from dropping behind.
The singular call of the dog was heard again. He wanted his friends to move faster. It came from a point slightly to the left.
"Here he is!" exclaimed Hugh, making a sharp turn and showing more excitement than at any time during the evening.
"I see him! There he stands!" added Tom, stumbling forward.
With his right hand Hugh raised the lantern above his head, so that its glare was taken from their eyes. The hound was close to a rock that rose some six or eight feet above the ground, and his nose was pointed toward the base of the black mass. At the same moment the men saw something dark and light mixed together, like a bundle of clothing. One bound and Hugh was on his knees, the lamp held even with his forehead while he peered downward and softly drew the clothing aside. Tom was also stooping low and leaning forward with bated breath.
There lay little Dollie Bradley, sleeping as sweetly as if nestling beside her big brother in the warm bed at home. She must have wandered through the woods until, worn out, she reached this spot. Then she had thrown herself on the earth beside the rock and had fallen asleep. Having lost her hood, her head was without any covering, except her own native hair, which was abundant. Besides, rugged people do not need to cover their heads while asleep, even in cold weather.
It was fortunate for Dollie that she was so warmly wrapped. One arm was doubled under her head, and the cheek that rested on it was pushed just enough out of shape to add to her picturesqueness. Her heavy coat having been buttoned around her body, kept its form and could not have been better arranged. The chubby legs were covered by thick stockings, and the feet were protected by heavy shoes. True, she ran much risk in lying upon the cold earth, with nothing between her and the ground, but there was hope that no serious harm would follow.
The rock not only kept off the wind, but screened her from the snow. It was almost certain that the little one had been asleep several hours.
Hugh gently examined the limbs and body to see whether there was any hurt. Her peaceful sleep ought to have satisfied him, but he was not content. Not a scratch, however, was found, though her clothing had suffered a good deal.
"Take the lantern," said he in a husky voice to his companion. Then, softly pushing his brawny arms under the dimpled form, he lifted it as tenderly as its mother could have done. Tom smoothed the clothing so as to cover the body as fully as possible. Hugh doffed his coarse cap and covered the mass of silken tresses that streamed over his shoulder.
Dollie muttered as a child will do when disturbed in its slumber, but, fitting her head to the changed position, she slept on as sweetly as ever.
"Now lead the way," added Hugh, "and be careful where you step."
Tom was only too glad to do his part. Nero, as happy as the others, walked in advance, in his dignified manner, now and then wagging his tail and whining with delight. None knew better than he the noble work he had done.
Tom used great care. When the bushes could not be avoided, Hugh shoved them aside with one hand, that they might not brush against the face resting so close to his own. Perhaps he held the velvety cheek nearer his shaggy beard than was needed, but who can chide him when his heart glowed with the sorrowful pleasure that came from the fancy that his own Jennie, whom he had so often pressed to his breast, was resting there again?
A tear dropped on the cheek of the little one. In that hour new resolves entered the heart of O'Hara. He had been sullen, discontented, and had long led a life that grieved his conscience.
By and by when they came back to the path they found the walking easier than before.
"Hugh," said Tom, stopping short and facing about, "ain't you tired of carryin' the kid? 'cause if you are, I'm ready to give you a lift."
"No; I wish I could carry her forever!"
All too soon the glimmer from the cabin window fell upon them, and they paused at the door to make sure the clothing of the child was arranged. They acted as if they were getting ready to go into the presence of company.
"I don't know as I've done right in not carrying her home," said Hugh, "but she has been out too long already in the night air; we'll take her in and keep her while you run down to the village and let the folks know she is safe."
"Is she still asleep?"
"Yes, hark! some of the boys seem to be inside," added Hugh, as the sound of voices came to them from within.
The door was pushed open and the two men and dog entered.
Harvey Bradley had risen to his feet, and for one second he stared angrily at the newcomers. You will recall that hot words had just passed between him and Jack Hansell, and both were in an ugly mood. Then Harvey quickly recognized the form in the arms of Hugh and rushed forward.
"Is she alive?"
"Aye, alive and without a scratch," replied Hugh, deftly taking the hat from the head of the little sleeper and placing her in the outstretched arms.
"How thankful I am," exclaimed Harvey, kissing the cold red cheeks over and over again, and pressing her to his heart; "yes—she is well—she was lost and is found—she was dead and is alive again."
"What are you laughing at?" demanded Hugh, wiping his eyes and glaring savagely at Jack Hansell, who, with open mouth, was looking on in a bewildered way; "haven't you manners enough to know when gentlemen are present?"
Jack seemed to think that the only way to behave was by keeping his mouth closed. He shut his jaws with a click like that of a steel trap and never said a word.
Harvey Bradley sat down on the stool from which he had arisen, first drawing it closer to the fire, and unfastened the outer clothing of the little one. He saw that all was well with her. Then he looked up with moistened eyes and said in a tremulous voice:
"Hugh, tell me all about it."
The short story was soon told. The hardy fellow made light of what he had done, but the superintendent, who kept his eyes fixed on his face, saw the sparkle of tears that the speaker could not keep back. It was hard for any one of the three to believe that only a brief while before they were ready to fly at each other's throats. Harvey was melted not only by the rescue of his sister, but by the remembrance of the dreadful injustice done Hugh O'Hara and his friends, when he allowed himself to think they had taken part in the disappearance of Dollie, who, through all the talk, continued sleeping.
"I can never thank you for what you have done," said the superintendent, hardly able to master his emotion, "but I shall show you that the charge of ingratitude can never be laid at my door."
"That's all right," replied Hugh, in his off-hand fashion; "Tom and I are glad to do a turn like that; nobody could want to see any harm come to such a child, no matter how they might feel toward others related to her. Do you mean to take her home to-night?"
"Yes; her aunt is frantic with grief."
"But Tom can run down there quicker than you can with the little one."
"No doubt, but we shall feel better to have her with us. She seems to be well, and we can bundle her up warmly. There may, after all, be serious results from this exposure, and it is best that we should have her where we can give her every care."
And drawing the hood from his pocket he fixed it upon Dollie's head. She opened her eyes for a moment and mumbled something, but sank into sleep again. Harvey explained how it was he came to have the headgear with him.
"I have a favor to ask of you, Mr. Bradley," said O'Hara, shifting from one foot to another and as confused as a school-boy.
"Anything that you ask shall be granted, if it be in my power to grant it," replied Harvey with a fervor that could leave no doubt of his sincerity.
"It's a long distance to the village, and I will be glad if you will let me carry her."
He made as if he simply wished to assist the superintendent. The latter knew better, but he did not say so.
"I shall be glad to have your aid; you have had a rest for several days, and a little exercise like this won't hurt you."
Hugh brought forth his best coat and gathered it around Dollie, as if he was tucking her up in her trundle bed. Then Harvey placed her with much care in his arms and made sure they were fully prepared to go out doors.
The Hansell brothers quietly looked on during these proceedings. They felt that there was no special use for them, and therefore they kept in the background. The hound Nero showed much interest. He walked around Hugh and Harvey, whining and wagging his tail as if he thought his views ought to have some weight in the questions the couple were called upon to consider.
"Come, Nero," said his master, as he drew the door inward. The dog shot through like a flash and the tramp to the village was begun.
Hardly a word was spoken on the way, but when the house was reached Hugh handed his burden over to Harvey and, refusing to go in, started to move off. The superintendent put out his free hand.
"Hugh, I want you to come and see me to-morrow afternoon; will you do so?"
"I will. Good-night."
"Good-night."
Hugh O'Hara had walked but a short distance up the mountain path when he was caught in a driving snow-storm. He cared little for it, however, and reached the cabin in due time, there to perform a strange duty.
When Hugh O'Hara came to the door of Harvey Bradley, he was in his best dress—the same that he wore to church on Sundays. Aunt Maria met him on the threshold, and, in tremulous tones, thanked him. Then she led the way to the back parlor, where the young superintendent awaited him. The moment he entered, there came a flash of sunshine and a merry exclamation, and with one bound, little Dollie (none the worse, apparently, for her adventure the night before) landed in the iron-like arms and kissed the shaggy-bearded fellow, who laughingly took a chair and held her a willing captive on his knee.
Harvey sat smiling and silent until the earthquake was over. Then, as his chief foreman looked toward him, he said:
"As I said last night, Hugh, the service you have done is beyond payment. You know what a storm set in just after Dollie was brought home, she never could have lived through that."
"It would have gone hard with her, I'm afraid," replied the embarrassed visitor; "does the little one feel no harm?"
"We observe nothing except a slight cold, which the doctor says is of no account. I have made up my mind to give to you, Hugh——"
The latter raised his hand in protest. He could accept money for any service except that of befriending the blue-eyed darling on his knee.
"Never refer to that again."
Harvey laughed.
"I looked for something of the kind; I have a few words to add. I found out this morning that there was a mortgage of $600 against your little home in the village. I don't believe in mortgages, and that particular one has now no existence. If you see any way to help undo what I have done go ahead, but I beg you not to refuse another small present that I have prepared for you."
And Harvey turned as if about to take something from his desk, but stopped when he saw Hugh shake his head almost angrily.
"I would do a good deal to oblige you, Mr. Bradley, but you must not ask that. I would have been better pleased had you let the mortgage alone; my wife and little one are under the sod, and it matters nought to me whether I have a place to lay my head. But," he added with a faint smile, "what's done can't be undone, and, since you have asked me, I will drop the matter, but nothing more, I pray you, on the other subject."
"Hugh," said the superintendent, like one who braces himself for a duty that has its disagreeable as well as its pleasant features, "you know that I had sent to Vining for men to take the places of those who are on strike?"
"I heard something of the kind, sir."
"They were to start for Bardstown to-night and are due to-morrow."
"Yes, sir."
"I countermanded the order by telegraph this morning; not a man will come."
"Yes, sir."
"The whistle will blow to-morrow as usual, ten minutes before 7 o'clock, and I shall expect every one of you to be in place; I have agreed to your terms."
Hugh looked at the superintendent a moment and then asked a singular question:
"Is it because I found Dollie that you agree to our terms?"
"Why do you ask that?"
"Because, if that is the reason, I will not accept the terms, for you would be doing out of gratitude an act which your judgment condemned."
Harvey Bradley felt his respect for this man increase tenfold. Such manliness was worthy of all admiration. He hastened to add:
"There's where, I am glad to say, you are in error. Now you know as well as I do that in order to keep discipline the employer must insist upon his rights. If he were to give all that is asked his business would be destroyed. But, on the other hand, labor has rights as well as capital, and the two can never get along together until this truth is respected by both. In all disputes, there should be an interchange of views, a full statement of grievances by those who are dissatisfied, and a fair consideration of them by the party against whom they exist."
O'Hara was not afraid to look his employer in the face and say:
"That has been my opinion all along, Mr. Bradley, and had it been yours this lock-out would never have come."
"I admit it. You came to me from the employes and asked for a discussion of the differences between us. I thought you insolent, and refused to listen to you. Therein I did you all an injustice, for which I apologize."
"It gives me joy to hear you speak thus, Mr. Bradley."
"Seeing now my mistake, there is but the one course before me. I am convinced that in all cases of trouble like ours the court of first resort should be arbitration. The wish to be just is natural to every one, or at least to the majority of mankind. If the parties concerned cannot agree, they should appeal to those in whom both have confidence to bring about an agreement between them; that is according to the golden rule. Employer and employed, labor and capital, should be friends, and arbitration is the agent that shall bring about that happy state of things."
"But I do not see that there has been any arbitration in this dispute."
"But there has been all the same."
"Where is the arbitrator?"
"She sits on your knee wondering what all this talk means. I tell you, Hugh, there is a good deal more in those little heads than most people think. Yesterday morning, when Dollie sat in her high chair at the breakfast-table, she heard her aunt and me talking about the strike. Though she could not understand it all, she knew there was trouble between me and my employes. I was out of patience and used some sharp words. She listened for a few minutes while busy with her bread and milk, and then what do you think she said?"
"I am sure I have no idea," replied O'Hara, patting the head of the laughing child, "but whatever it was, it was something nice."
"She says, 'Brother Harvey, when I do anything wrong, you take me on your knee and talk to me and that makes me feel so bad that I never do that kind of wrong again. Why don't you take those bad men on your knee and talk to them, so they won't do so again?' I showed her that such an arrangement was hardly practicable, and then she fired her solid shot that pierced my ship between wind and water: 'Brother Harvey, maybe it's you that has done wrong; why don't you sit down on their knees and let them give you a talking to? Then you won't be bad any more."
Hugh and Harvey broke into laughter, during which Dollie, who had become tired of sitting still full two minutes, slid off O'Hara's knee and ran out of the room.
"We smile at the odd conceits of the little ones," continued Harvey, "but you know that the truest wisdom has come from the mouths of babes. I hushed her, but what she said set me thinking—'Why don't you let them give you a good talking to?' That was the very thing you had asked and I had refused. I set out to take a long walk, and was absent most of the day. Her question kept coming up to me, and I tried to drive it away. The effort made me angry and ended in a decision to be sterner than ever. I would not yield a point; I would import a body of men at large expense and keep them at work, just because I was too proud to undo what I knew was wrong.
"Still my conscience troubled me, but for all that I don't think I would have yielded. Pride, the greatest of all stumbling-blocks, was in my way. Reaching home, I learned that Dollie was lost; then, of course, every other thought went from my head. Nothing else could be done until she was found."
Harvey was about to tell his guest his suspicion that he had had a hand in the abduction of the child, but he was ashamed, and really there was no call for such a confession.
"Well, it was you who found her. I repeat that my debt to you can never be paid. And yet I do not believe that that obligation would have led me to yield, where I felt that a principle was at stake. It was the words of Dollie, spoken yesterday, that stuck to me. They kept me awake most of the night and played a part in the dreams that I had about her being lost in the woods and eaten up by panthers and all sorts of creatures. When I awoke this morning, the mists had cleared away. I saw my error, and fully made up my mind to do all I could to correct it. I went to the telegraph office before breakfast and sent a message to Vining countermanding the order for the men. Then I came back and had just finished my meal when a message was brought to my house. Odd, wasn't it?"
"I see nothing odd in a telegram for you."
"I mean in the telegram itself."
"I could not answer that unless I saw it."
"Of course," said Harvey with a laugh, wheeling about in his chair and picking up one of the yellow slips of paper which the Western Union furnishes its patrons gratis.
"There, read that," he added, passing it to Hugh O'Hara, who looked at it with no little curiosity.
It was dated in the city of New York and signed by Johnson W. Bradley, father of Harvey, and President of the Rollo Mills Company. This was the body of the telegram:
"Don't lose sight of the interests of your men. Before hiring other hands try arbitration."
"That is rather odd," said Hugh; leaning forward, so as to hand the telegram back to his employer, "but it is sound wisdom all the same."
"Undoubtedly; but are you convinced that I agree to your terms not because of gratitude, but because I believe them right?"
"I am satisfied," said Hugh; "have you sent the notice to the hands?"
"Yes. I wonder that you did not hear of it on the way here."
Hugh smiled.
"Of course I heard of it. I knew it long ago, but I did not know why you had decided to restore our time to what it was and to pay the same wages; that I have learned from yourself. And now that you have done your part so well," added Hugh, rising to leave, "I assure you that we shall do ours; we shall give you the best service we can. No one shall misinterpret your action or try to take advantage of it."
The superintendent was wise enough to avoid a mistake to which persons, placed as was he, are liable—that is, he did not overdo his part. He was so happy over the return of his little sister that he was willing not only to give the old wages and time asked for by his employes, but he felt like adding to them. He meant to make the pay of O'Hara greater than before, but changed his purpose at the last moment.
Had he added to the pay of his chief foreman it would have changed the ratio between that and the wages of the others, unless theirs, too, was increased. In that event, a reproof was likely to come from the directors, and he would find it hard to retrace his steps.
Justice called for him to do just what he had done; it would be weak to do more. "Hugh," said he, also rising to his feet, "I am not quite through with you; I am now going to ask you to do me a favor."
"I guess it's safe to promise in advance that I will do it—that is, of course, if it be in my power to do it."
"It is in your power. Last night, when I was in the woods near your cabin, I noticed a strange odor in the air; I could not imagine its cause, but I know now what it was."
"What was it?" asked O'Hara, turning crimson.
"You and some of your friends have been illicitly making whiskey. You have a distillery somewhere in the mountains, and, while working in the mills during the day, you have taken turns in running the still at night. I will not ask you to tell me how long you have been doing this, but you know as well as I that it is a crime."
The two men were silent a moment and then Hugh, without any appearance of agitation, said:
"You have spoken the truth; the still was not more than a hundred feet from the cabin, and caused the smell you noticed."
"How could you three attend to it when you were in the cabin?"
"Some one was generally close by. The pipe that carried off the fumes ran into the chimney of our cabin and mixed with the smoke. We took turns in looking after it. Tom and I had been there earlier in the evening, and Jack was to look in now and then against our coming back. But," added Hugh, "you said you had a favor to ask of me."
"So I have; I ask you to destroy that still, root and branch, and never take a hand in anything of the kind again."
"I cannot do that."
"Why not? You are engaged in breaking the laws of your country, for which there is a severe penalty. Now that you will have steady work, you cannot make the plea that would have been yours if the strike continued. Why can't you do as I ask you to do?"
"Because it has already been done. After I got back to the cabin last night, Tom and Jack and I went out and wound up the business. The worm has been thrown down the rocks, where it can never be found, the mash has been scattered to the four winds, and everything smashed to general flinders. It took us nearly to daylight to finish it, but we stuck to it till the job was done."
"I am delighted to hear that, what was the cause of all this?"
"I guess it must have been the little arbitrator," said O'Hara, with a smile; "they say that when a man does a bad act he feels like doing others. That may or may not be true, but I know that when a man does a good deed, the impulse to do more is awakened, and whatever good there is in him is strengthened. I have been a bad man; I grew desperate after the death of Jennie; but when I held your Dollie in my arms it seemed that some of her goodness found its way into my heart. I resolved with the help of heaven to be a better man. The first step toward becoming so was to stop the unlawful work in which I had been engaged only a short time.
"I thought that Tom and Jack would make trouble, but I didn't care, for I could manage them. To my surprise, however, they seemed to feel just as I did. So they fell to work with a will, and the job couldn't have been done more thoroughly. Now, if you will allow me to kiss Dollie, who has come back, I will bid you both good day."
Harvey Bradley shook hands with his visitor, during which he handed him a liberal sum of money for Tom Hansell, who had taken part in the search for Dollie. He sent naught to Jack, for he deserved none. Then he went with Hugh to the outer door, giving him a number of encouraging words on the way.
The whistle of the Rollo Mills never screeched more cheerily than it did the next morning, and there was never a happier band of employes than the 300, young and old, who took their places again in the works.
A short time afterward Harvey Bradley opened and furnished a room where the best of reading was given free to all who chose to accept the privilege. Still later in the season a night school was started, and the skilled teacher who took charge was liberally paid by the board of directors, who never made a better investment of money.
The interest shown by the superintendent in the welfare of his employes proved to be seed sowed in good ground. All wrought faithfully and well, and when on the 1st of January the balance sheet was made up, lo! the net profits of the Rollo Mills were greater than ever before.
It may sound like slander for me to say that the elephant, which is admittedly one of the most intelligent members of the animal creation, is also one of the most vicious and treacherous. But it is a fact all the same. I have seen one of those beasts, that had been fed and treated with the greatest kindness for years by his keeper, turn upon him like a tiger, and, seizing him with that wonderful trunk of his, dash him to death before he could do more than utter a cry of protest and terror.
I have seen another, after waiting weeks for the opportunity, suddenly grasp an innocent person, and, kneeling upon him with his beam-like legs, knead him out of all semblance of humanity.
Columbus, who was the main attraction of Barnum's establishment some forty years ago, killed several keepers, and was likely to start on one of his terrible rampages at any moment. The giving away of a bridge in New England so injured him that he died, long before any of my young readers were born.
An elephant, fully as bad as Columbus, was Vladdok, who was brought to this country when quite young. A glimpse at his enormous ears told his African nativity at once, those from Asia and Ceylon having much smaller ears. He belonged to the old traveling circus of Blarcom & Burton, and made several journeys through our country in the days when those establishments found no use for the railways, but patiently plodded from town to town, delighting the hearts and eyes of our grandfathers and grandmothers when they were children just as we are now.
Vladdok had killed two keepers, besides badly wounding a couple of spectators in Memphis, when he yielded to one of his vicious moods. He had been fired upon and wounded more times than any one could remember, and Mr. Blarcom, who always traveled with his show, had been on the point more than once of ordering his destruction; but he was of such large size and possessed such extraordinary intelligence, that he constituted the main attraction of the exhibition and he hesitated, well aware that sooner or later, the wicked fellow would die "with his boots on."
It was after an afternoon performance in one of the Western States that Vladdok indulged in his last rampage. His sagacious keeper had come to understand the animal so well, that he knew the outbreak was coming. While Vladdok was unusually tractable and obedient, there was a dangerous glitter in his small eyes, and an occasional nervous movement of his head, which proved that he was only biding his time and waiting for the grand chance to present itself.
Fortunately, he did not rebel until after the exhibition was over, and the crowds had departed. Then, with a fierce trumpeting and one vast shiver of his enormous bulk, he made a dash which snapped his chains like so much whip-cord and went through the side of the tent as though it were cardboard.
On his wild charge, which set all the rest of the animals in a panic, he reached for his keeper, who with prodding spear and shouts, interposed himself in his path and tried to check him. But the man's inimitable dexterity and good fortune enabled him to dodge the beast and escape by a hair's breadth. The next minute, the elephant reached the public highway, down which he swung awkwardly but swiftly, on an excursion that was destined to be the most tragic in his whole career.
The first object on which he vented his wrath was a team of horses, driven by a farmer, whose wife was sitting beside him on the front seat. Neither they nor the team knew their danger until the avalanche of fury was upon them. The animals screamed in an agony of fright, and were rearing and plunging, when Vladdok grasped one with his trunk, lifted him in the air and dashed him to death. The other broke loose and plunged off at such headlong speed, that the elephant followed him only a few paces, when he turned to attack the man and woman.
But they were nowhere in sight, and, with a trumpet of disgust, he wheeled about, and turning from the highway, took to the woods.
The couple were saved by a singular occurrence. The violent rearing and backing of the horses overturned the wagon body, and the farmer and his better half were caught beneath it, before they could escape. They had sense enough to remain quiet, until the brute left, when they crept out, none the worse for their mishap.
"Consarn his pictur!" exclaimed the husband; "if that don't beat all creation! I allers said that circuses and shows was a burnin' shame, and now I know it; I'll make the owner of that elephant pay ten thousand dollars for the damage he done us, for he scart you and me so bad Betsy, that we'll never grow another inch."
Meanwhile, the runaway kept things moving. He knew his keeper and attendants were hot on his trail, and his sudden change of course was undoubtedly with a view of misleading them. It is hardly to be supposed that he expected to find any "game" in the woods, but nevertheless he did.
It so happened that Jack Norton and Billy Wiggins, a couple of boys not more than fourteen years of age, were engaged on a little hunt that same afternoon. The teachers had sent such bad reports home about them that their parents inflicted the most awful kind of punishment; they did not permit them to attend the circus, to which they had been looking forward for weeks. The father of Billy was specially stern, and forbade his hopeful to take his gun, when he joined Jack on a little hunting ramble in the woods. Mr. Norton felt some slight compunctions, when he noted how patiently his boy accepted his fate, and relented to that degree that he permitted him to take his rifle, though he knew there was little chance of his securing any game.
The boys had walked about a mile, and, coming to a fallen tree, sat down to rest awhile, for the day was warm and the gun which they had taken turns in carrying, was heavy.
"I guess this hunt ain't agoin' to amount to much," sighed Jack, as he leaned the rifle against the prostrate trunk, on which they were seated.
"Why not?" asked Billy.
"'Cause there ain't nothin' to hunt; I heerd Budge Jones say that when he was a boy, these woods used to be full of bears and deers and tigers and lions and giraffes and that sort of thing."
"Yes, and the folks were so mean they killed 'em all, but I've the idea, Jack, that maybe some of the lions or tigers has hid somewhere in the woods and we might find 'em."
"Golly! I don't know whether I'd want to find 'em or not," replied Jack, looking about him, with a scared expression.
"Why not? Hain't you got a gun?"
"Yes, but while I was killin' one the others might chaw me all to pieces; but if there was only one, I wouldn't care, if he was an elephant as big as a barn——"
"My gracious! there he comes!"
A terrific crashing of the undergrowth caused both lads to glance affrightedly behind them, and there, sure enough, was Vladdok, the fearful elephant, almost upon them. They started to run, their courses so diverging that the beast was forced to select one and let the other alone for the moment. He fixed upon Billy Wiggins, who had taken barely twenty steps, when the trunk of the beast inclosed his waist and he was lifted, as if he was a feather from the ground, and the next instant he felt himself whizzing through space.
A marvelous providence saved him. Instead of dashing him against a tree, or upon the ground, the elephant, in one of his mad freaks, flung him from him as though he was a ball. He spun through the air, the leaves and limbs whizzing against his face and body, and instinctively clutching with both hands, succeeded in grasping enough branches to support the weight of his body and check his descent.
Then, when he collected his senses and stared around, he found that he was a dozen yards above the ground, with the elephant beneath, looking up, and apparently waiting for him to fall within his reach, that he might finish him.
"Not much," muttered Billy; "I'm going to stay here and I don't believe you know how to climb a tree. Helloa! how do you like that?"
Jack Norton had dashed only a few yards, when the terrified look he cast over his shoulder told him the elephant was giving his whole attention to Billy, and seemed to have forgotten all about him. Instantly he was filled with alarm for his young friend, and started back to the log to get his rifle, that neither had thought of in the panic.
As he knelt behind the fallen tree, to make his aim sure, he descried a queer object going through the limbs of a large oak, and did not identify it, until it lodged fast, as his friend Billy Wiggins.
Jack had no more idea of the fatal point at which to aim his weapon than you have, but knowing that he must do something, and, with a dread that the elephant after all, might succeed in climbing the oak and getting at his friend, he let fly.
Gordon Cumming himself could not have done better. The tiny bullet bored its way into the vast bulk, just back of the fore leg and went directly through the heart. The huge brute, as if conscious that he was mortally hurt, swung part way round, so as to face the point whence the shot had come. Catching sight of the kneeling youngster, with the muzzle of his rifle still smoking, he plunged toward him. He took a couple of steps, swayed to one side, moved uncertainly forward again, then stopped, tried to steady himself, and finally went over sideways, like a mountain, crashing the saplings and undergrowth near him, and snapping one of his magnificent tusks into splinters. He was dead.
When the boys fully comprehended what had taken place, they were not a little alarmed and puzzled, and started home, wondering whether their game was a descendant of the creatures that used to inhabit that section, or whether he was a visitor to these parts. They had not gone far, however, when they met the attaches of the menagerie and circus to whom they related what had occurred.
The proprietors were relieved on learning the whole truth, for there could be little doubt that the sudden ending of the career of Vladdok was the means of saving more than one person from death.
As for Jack Norton and Billy Wiggins, it was generally conceded that they spoke the truth, when they declared:
"Our fathers wouldn't let us go to the circus that afternoon, but I guess we had a bigger circus than any of you all to ourselves."