"What are you up there for?" said Jack.
"To take an observation," the fellow replied, out of breath, but still cheerful. "First-rate view of the country up here. I fancy I see a doe and a fawn off on the prairie; wouldn't you like a shot at 'em?"
"I've other game to look after just now!" Jack replied.
"Better look out for your horse; he's running away!"
"My horse isn't in the habit of running away without help. Will you come down?"
"I was just going to invite you to come up. I'll share my lodgings with you,—give you an upper berth. A very good tavern; rooms airy, fine prospect; though the table don't seem to be very well supplied, and I can't say I fancy the entrance. 'Sich gittin' up stairs I never did see!'"
Jack checked this flow of nonsense by shouting, "Will you come down, or not?"
"Suppose not?" said the fellow.
"Then I leave the dog to guard the door of your tavern, and go for a warrant and a constable, to bring you down."
"What would you have me come down for? You seem to be very pressing in your attentions to a stranger!"
"Don't say stranger,—you who drove the deer in for me! I am anxious to pay you for that kindness. I want you to ride with me."
"Why didn't you say so before?" cried the rogue, rolling a fresh quid in his cheek. "I always ride when you ask me to, don't I? Say, did you ever know me to refuse when you offered me a ride? Which way are you going?"
"Down through the woods," said Jack, amused, in spite of himself, at the scamp's reckless gayety.
"Why, that's just the way I am going! Why didn't you mention it? I never should have put up at this tavern if I had thought a friend would come along and give me a lift in his carriage. Please relieve the guard, and I'll descend."
The dog was driven off, and the youth dropped from the branches to the ground.
"Pick up your coat," said Jack, "and do pretty much as I tell you now, or there'll be trouble. None of your tricks this time!"
He held the reins and the gun while he made the fellow get into the buggy; then took his seat, with the prisoner on his left and the gun on his right, drove on to the travelled track, and turned into the woods; the vigilant Lion walking close by the wheel.
For a second time Jack now travelled that woodland road under odd circumstances; the first occasion being that on which he himself had pulled in the shafts, while Link pushed behind. He laughed as he thought of that adventure, of which the present seemed a fitting sequel. Before, he had been obliged to go home without his horse; what a triumph it would now be to carry home the thief! But to do this, great care and vigilance would be necessary; and he calculated all the chances, and resolved just what he would do, should his captive attempt to escape. The rogue, on the contrary, appeared contented with his lot.
"Young man," said he, "I can't call your name, but let me say you improve upon acquaintance. This is galorious! better by a long chalk than a horseback gallop without a saddle. I suppose you will call for me with a barouche next time!"
"At all events, I may help you to free lodgings,—not up in a tree, either!" Jack said, as he touched up Snowfoot.
He had, of course, abandoned the idea of giving Mrs. Wiggett her noon-mark that day. But he could not think of passing the "castle" without stopping at the door.
"What will Vinnie say?" thought he, with a thrill of anticipation. And it must be confessed that he felt no little pride at the prospect of showing his prisoner to Lord Betterson and the boys.
Descending the long declivity, the fellow was strangely silent, for one so rattle-brained, until the "castle" appeared in sight through an opening of the woods. "He's plotting mischief," Jack thought. And when suddenly the rogue made a movement with his arms, Jack started, ready for a grapple.
"Don't be excited; I'm only putting on my coat."
"All right," said Jack; and the garment was put on. "Anything else I can do for you?"
"I'm dying with thirst; they had nothing to drink at that tavern where you found me."
"May be we can get some water at this house," Jack said.
"Are you acquainted here?" the prisoner inquired, with a curious, sober face.
"Yes, well enough to ask for a glass of water." And Jack drove into the yard.
The rogue kept on his sober face, but seemed to be laughing prodigiously inside.
As Jack reined up to the door, Lill came out, clapped her hands with sudden surprise, and screamed, "O mother!" Then Vinnie appeared, her face radiant on seeing Jack, but changing suddenly at sight of his companion. Mrs. Betterson followed, and, perceiving the faces in the buggy, uttered a cry, tottered, and clung to Vinnie's shoulder.
Link at the same time ran out from behind the house, dropped a dirty stick, wiped his hands on his trousers, and shouted, "Hullo! by sixty! ye don't say so!" while Rufe and Wad came rushing up from the barn. Jack had rather expected to produce a sensation,—not, however, until he should fairly have shown his prisoner; and this premature commotion puzzled him.
The rogue's suppressed laughter was now bubbling freely; a frothy and reckless sort of mirth, without much body of joy to it.
"How are ye all?" he cried. "Don't faint at sight of me, Aunt Carrie. This is an unexpected pleasure!" and he bowed gayly to Vinnie.
"O Radcliff! you again? and in this style!" said poor Caroline. "Where did you come from?"
"From up a tree, at last accounts. Hullo, boys! I'd come down on my trotters, and hug you all round, but my friend here would be jealous."
Jack was confounded.
"Is this your Cousin Rad?" he cried, as the boys crowded near. "I'm sorry to know it, for he's the fellow who ran off with my horse. Where did you ever see him before, Vinnie?"
"He is the one I told you about,—in Chicago," said Vinnie, astonished to find her waggish acquaintance, the elegant Radcliff Betterson, and this captive vagabond, the same person.
Lord Betterson now came out of the house, calm and stately, but with something of the look in his eye, as he turned it upon his nephew, which Jack had observed when it menaced Peakslow at the gap of the fence.
"Ah, Radcliff! you have returned? Why don't you alight?" And he touched his hat to Jack.
"Your nephew may tell you the reason, if he will," Jack replied.
"The long and the short of it is this," said Radcliff, betraying a good deal of trouble, under all his assumed carelessness: "When I was on my way home, a few weeks ago, this young man asked me to drive in some deer for him. He gave me his horse to ride. I made a mistake, and rode him too far."
"You, Radcliff!" said Lord Betterson, sternly; while Mrs. Betterson went into hysterics on Vinnie's shoulder, and was taken into the house.
"We thought of Rad when you described him," Rufe said to Jack. "But we couldn't believe he would do such a thing."
"'Twas the most natural thing in the world," Rad explained. "I was coming home because I was hard up. I didn't steal the horse,—he was put into my hands; it was a breach of trust, that's all you can make of it. Necessity compelled me to dispose of him. With money in my pocket, what was the use of my coming home? I took my clothes out of pawn, and was once more a gentleman. Money all gone, I spouted my clothes again,—fell back upon this inexpensive rig,—took to the country, remembered I had a home, and was making for it, when this young man overtook me just now, and gave me a seat in his buggy."
"The matter appears serious," said Lord Betterson. "Am I to understand that you have taken my nephew prisoner?"
"He can answer that question," said Jack.
"Well, I suppose that is the plain English of it," replied Radcliff. "Come, now, Uncle Lord! this ain't the first scrape you've got me out of; fix it up with him, can't you?"
"It is my duty to save the honor of the name; but you are bent on destroying it. Will you please to come into the house with my nephew, and oblige me?" Betterson said to Jack.
"Certainly, if you wish it," Jack replied. "Get down, Radcliff. Be quiet, Lion! I was never in so hard a place in my life," he said to the boys, as they followed Rad and his uncle into the house. "I never dreamed of his being your cousin!"
"He's a wild fellow,—nothing very bad about him, only he's just full of the Old Harry," said Rufe. "I guess father'll settle it, somehow."
Meanwhile, Mrs. Betterson had retired to her room, where Vinnie was engaged, with fan and hartshorn, in restoring—not her consciousness, for that she had not lost, but her equanimity.
"Lavinia!" she said brokenly, at intervals, "Lavinia dear! don't think I intended to deceive you. It was, perhaps, too much the ideal Radcliff I described to you,—the Betterson Radcliff, the better Betterson Radcliff, if I may so speak; for he is, after all, you know, a—but that is the agony of it! The name is disgraced forever! Fan me, Lavinia dear!"
"I don't see how the act of one person should disgrace anybody else, even of the same name," Vinnie replied.
"But—a Betterson!" groaned Caroline. "My husband's nephew! Brought back here like a reprobate! The hartshorn, Lavinia dear!"
Hard as it was freely to forgive her sister for holding up to her so exclusively the "ideal Radcliff" in her conversations, Vinnie continued to apply the fan and hartshorn, with comforting words, until Link came in and said that Jack wished her to be present in the other room.
"Don't leave me, Lavinia dear!" said Caroline, feeling herself utterly helpless without Vinnie's support.
"If we open this door between the rooms, and you sit near it, while I remain by you,—perhaps that will be the best way," said Vinnie.
The door was opened, showing Jack and Rad and Mr. Betterson seated, and the boys standing by the outer door. Rad was trying hard to keep up his appearance of gay spirits, chucking Chokie under the chin, and winking playfully at Rufe and Wad. But Jack and Lord were serious.
"I have reasons for wanting you to hear this talk, Vinnie," said Jack. "I was just telling Mr. Betterson that you had met his nephew before, and he was quite surprised. It seems to me singular that you never told your friends here of that adventure."
"I suppose I know what you mean," spoke up Caroline. "And I confess that I am at fault. Lavinia dear did tell me and the girls of a young man beguiling her to a public-house in Chicago, and offering her wine; and Cecie whispered to me that she was sure it must have been Radcliff; but I couldn't, I wouldn't believe a Betterson could be guilty of—Fan me, Lavinia dear!"
Vinnie fanned, and Caroline went on,—
"'T was I who cautioned the children against saying anything disparaging of Radcliff's character in Lavinia dear's presence. I had such faith in the stock! and now to think how I have been deluded! The hartshorn, Lavinia dear!"
"Seems to me you make a pile of talk about trifles!" Radcliff said with a sneer. "I owe an apology to this young lady. But she knows I meant no harm,—only my foolish fun. As for the horse, the owner has got him again; and so I don't see but it's all right."
"It's all right enough, as far as I am concerned," said Jack. "I won't say a word about the trouble and expense you put me to. But, whether taking my horse as you did was stealing or not, you sold him, you obtained money under false pretences, you swindled an honest man."
"Well, that can't be helped now," said Radcliff, with a scoffing laugh. "A feller is obliged sometimes to do things that may not be exactly on the square."
"I don't know about anybody's being obliged to go off and play the gentleman (if that's what you call it), and have a good time (if there's any good in such a time), at somebody else's expense. I call such conduct simply scoundrelism," said Jack, his strong feeling on the subject breaking forth in plain speech and ringing tones. "And I determined, if I ever caught you, to have you punished."
"O, well! go ahead! put it through! indulge!" said Radcliff, folding his arms, and stretching out his legs with an air of easy and reckless insolence, but suddenly drawing up one of them, as he noticed the tear Lion's teeth had made. "Guess I can stand it if the others can. What do you say, Uncle Lord? Give me up as a bad job, eh?"
"Hem!" Lord coughed, and rubbed his chin with his palm. "If this sort of conduct is to continue, the crisis may as well come now, I suppose, as later; and, unless you give a solemn pledge to alter your course, I shall let it come."
"O, I'll give the solem'est sort of a pledge!" Radcliff replied.
"You will notice—ahem!—a change in our family," Lord went on. "The boys have applied themselves to business,—in plain terms, gone to work. Although I have said little on the subject, I have silently observed, and I am free to confess that I have been gratified. Since our circumstances are what they are, they have done well,—I may add, they have done nobly."
"Fan me, Lavinia dear!" whispered Caroline.
"Hey, boys? what's got into you?" said Radcliff, really astonished.
Lord put up his hand, to prevent the boys from answering, and continued,—
"Your unusually long absence, I am persuaded, has had a wholesome effect. But to the presence of new elements in the family I attribute the better state of things, in a large measure." Lord indicated Lavinia, by a gracious wave of the hand, adding, "Though a man of few words, I am not blind, and I am not ungrateful."
This recognition of her influence, before Jack and the whole family, brought the quick color to Vinnie's cheeks and tears to her eyes. She was surprised by what Lord said, and still more surprised that any words of his could touch her so. He had hitherto treated her with civil, quiet reserve, and she had never been able to divine his secret thought of her. Nor had she cared much, at first, what that might be; but day by day she had learned to know that under all his weaknesses there was something in his character worthy of her esteem.
"If you choose to fall into the new course of things, Radcliff, you will be welcome here, as you always have been. Not otherwise."
And again Jack was reminded of the look and tone with which he had seen Lord Betterson confront Peakslow at the gap of the fence.
"Of course I'll fall in, head over heels," said Radcliff, with a laugh, and a look at Vinnie, which Jack did not like. "I think I shall fancy the new elements, as you call 'em."
Jack started up, with sparkling eyes; but, on an instant's reflection, bridled his tongue, and settled down again, merely giving Vinnie a swift glance, which seemed to say, "If he has any more of his fun with you, I'll—"
"No more trifling," said Betterson. "If you stay, you will come under the new régime. That means, in plain speech—work; we all work."
"Oh!" gasped poor Caroline, and reached out helplessly to her sister. "The hartshorn, Lavinia dear!"
"I'll stay, and I'll work,—I'll do as the rest do," said Radcliff. "But when the Philadelphia partners pony up, of course I have my dividend."
"A word here," said Lord, "is due to our friends. By the Philadelphia partners, my nephew means the relatives who occasionally send us money. Now, as to his dividend: when he came into our family, it was with the understanding that he would be clothed and educated at the expense of those connections. Accordingly, when money has been sent to me, a portion has always gone to him. As soon as he gets money, it burns him till he goes off and squanders it. When it is gone, he comes home here, and waits for another supply."
Then Jack spoke up.
"I say, when the next supply comes, eighty dollars of it—if there's as much—should be paid over to that truckman he swindled. I insist upon that."
Radcliff snapped his fingers. "That's a foolish way of doing business!"
"Foolish or not," cried Jack, "you shall agree to it."
"You have anticipated me," remarked Betterson, with a high courtesy contrasting with Jack's haste and heat. "I was about to propose a similar arrangement. Radcliff's money passes through my hands. I will see to it,—the truckman shall be paid. Do you agree, Radcliff? If not, I have nothing more to urge."
"Of course I agree, since I can't help myself. But next time I have a horse to dispose of," Radcliff added with a derisive smile at Jack, "I shall go farther. So take care!"
"No need of giving me that warning," Jack made answer, rising to his feet. He went over and stood by Vinnie, and looked back with strong distrust upon the jeering Radcliff. "I don't know that I do right, Mr. Betterson; but I'll leave him here, if you say so."
"I think it best, on the whole," Mr. Betterson replied.
"O, bosh!" cried Radcliff, giving Jack a sinister look. "You and I'll be better acquainted, some day! Come, boys, show me what you've been about lately. And, see here, Rufe,—haven't I got a pair of pants about the house somewhere? See how that dog tore my trousers-leg! I'll pay him my compliments, too, some time!"
As he was walking out of the house, Lion at the door gave a growl. Jack silenced the dog, and then took leave. Vinnie urged him to stay to supper.
"It will be ready in five minutes," she said; "I was just going to set the table when you came."
But Jack replied, with a bitter smile, that he believed his appetite would be better after a ride of a few miles in the open air.
"Look out for the scamp!" he whispered in her ear; and then, with brief good-byes to the rest, he sprang into the buggy, called Lion to a seat by his side, and drove away.
Radcliff resumed his place in the family. But he soon found that his relations to it were no longer what they had been before the days of Vinnie and Jack.
The "new elements" had produced a greater change than he supposed. He no longer possessed the boundless influence over the boys which his wild spirits formerly gave him. They saw him in the light of this last revelation of his character, and contrasted his coarse foolery, once so attractive, with the gentle manners and cheerful earnestness of Vinnie and Jack; in which comparison this flower of the Betterson stock suffered blight.
The boys did not take a holiday in honor of Rad's return, but went steadily on with their tasks. Lord Betterson himself seemed suddenly to have changed his views of things, for he now offered to assist the boys in repairing the fences, for which they had been cutting poles in the woods.
Rad worked a little, but, seeing how things were going, sulked a good deal more. He tried to be very gallant toward Vinnie, but her quiet dignity of manner was proof against all his pleasantries. Even Cecie and Lill could not somehow enjoy his jests as they used to; and Caroline—there was no disguising the fact—had ceased to view his faults through the golden haze of a sentimental fancy.
So Radcliff found himself out of place, unappreciated; and discontent filled his soul. At length an event occurred which blew his smouldering restlessness into a flame.
The "Philadelphia partners" were heard from.
Rufe and Wad, who had been over to the Mills one day, completing their arrangements with the pump-maker for boring the logs of their aqueduct, brought home from the mail one of those envelopes whose post-mark and superscription always gladdened the eyes of the Bettersons.
It was from Philadelphia, and it contained a draft for two hundred and fifty dollars.
One third of this sum was for Radcliff's "benefit."
It would have been wise, perhaps, to keep from him the knowledge of this fact; but it would have been impossible.
"A pittance, a mere pittance," said Lord, holding the precious bit of paper up to the light. "Uncle George could just as well have made it a thousand, without feeling it. However, small favors gratefully received." And he placed the draft in his pocket-book with calm satisfaction.
Joy overflowed the family; Caroline began to build fresh castles in the air; and Vinnie heard Radcliff say to the boys,—
"You can afford to lay by now, and have a good time, with that money."
"Radcliff Betterson!" cried Vinnie, "you provoke me!"
"How so, my charmer?" said Rad, bowing and smiling saucily.
"With your foolish talk. But I hope—yes, I know—the boys will pay no attention to it. To stop work now, and go and play, just because a little money has come into the house,—I should lose all my respect for them, if they were to do so silly a thing."
"Well, I was only joking," said Rad.
"We could very well spare some of your jokes," Vinnie replied.
"And me too, I suppose you think?"
"You might be more useful to yourself and others than you are; it is easy to see that."
"Well, give me a smile now and then; don't be so cross with a feller," said Rad. "You don't show me very much respect."
"It isn't my fault; I should be glad to show you more."
Such was about the usual amount of satisfaction Radcliff got from his talk with Vinnie. She was always "up to him," as the boys said.
When he walked off, and found them laughing at his discomfiture, he laughed too, with a fresh quid in his cheek, and his head on one-side, but with something not altogether happy in his mirth.
"Uncle Lord," said he in the evening, "if you'll put your name to that draft, I'll go over to the Mills in the morning and cash it for you."
"Thank you, Radcliff," said his uncle. "I've some bills to pay, and I may as well go myself."
"Let the bills slide, why don't you, and get some good out of the money?" said Radcliff. "And see here, uncle,—what's the use of paying off that truckman in such a hurry? I want some of that money; it was intended for me, and I ain't going to be cheated out of it."
"As to that," replied Lord, "you entered into a certain agreement, which seemed to me just; and I do not like now to hear you speak of being cheated,—you, of all persons, Radcliff."
"O, well, I suppose you'll do as you like, since you've got the thing into your hands!" And Radcliff walked sulkily out of the house.
The next day Mr. Betterson drove over to the Mills, cashed the draft, made some necessary purchases, paid some bills which had been long outstanding, and called to hand Jack eighty dollars, on Radcliff's account, for the swindled truckman.
Jack was off surveying with Forrest Felton, and was not expected home for a day or two. Mr. Betterson hardly knew what to do in that case, but finally concluded to keep the money, and leave Jack word that he had it for him.
Jack returned home, unexpectedly, that night. He jumped for joy when told of Mr. Betterson's call and the message he had left. The promise of money due himself could not have pleased him so much as the prospect now presented of justice being done to the truckman.
He felt some concern, it must be owned, lest the money should, after all, be diverted from its course; he determined, therefore, to act promptly in the matter, and go to Long Woods the next day.
He and Forrest were laying out town lots somewhere up the river; and he was closely occupied all the next forenoon and a part of the afternoon with his calculations and drawings.
At last he leaped up gayly, with that sense of satisfaction and relief which comes from the consciousness of work well done.
He harnessed Snowfoot, put his compass into the buggy, thinking he would give Mrs. Wiggett her noon-mark this time without fail, winked assent at Lion, eager to accompany him, and drove off with a feeling of enjoyment, to which the thought of some one he was going to meet gave a wonderful zest.
As it was getting late in the day when he reached the settlement, he stopped only a moment at the "castle," to speak with Vinnie, and leave word that he would call and see Mr. Betterson on his way back; then drove on to Mr. Wiggett's log-cabin.
His reception there was most cordial, especially when it was found that he had come with his compass, prepared to make the noon-mark.
"House don't front no sort of a way," said the old man; "and I reckon you'll have to give us a kin' of a slantin'diclar line from 'bout this yer direction," indicating a wood-pile by the road.
The little Wiggetts meanwhile thronged the doorway, staring at Jack and his strange machine, and their old acquaintance, the dog.
"Cl'ar the kitchen, you young uns!" the mother stormed after them, cuffing right and left. "Noon-mark'll cut ye plumb in tew, 'f ye don't scatter! It's comin' into this yer door, like it was a bullet from pap's rifle!"
The grimy faces and bare legs "scattered"; while Mrs. Wiggett called to Jack,—
"How long 'fore ye gwine to shute that ar thing off? 'Low I oughter scoop up a little fust."
"Scoop up?" Jack repeated, not quite taking her meaning.
"Right smart o' dirt on the floor yer; it'll be in your way, I reckon."
"Not at all," said Jack. "My line will cut through; and you can scoop down to it, at your leisure. I must get you to remove these iron wedges, Mr. Wiggett; the needle won't work with so much iron near."
The wedges removed, the needle settled; and Jack, adjusting the sights of his compass to a north-and-south line, got Mr. Wiggett to mark its bearings for him, with a chalk pencil, on the floor of the open doorway.
"All creation!" shrieked the woman, suddenly making a pounce at the kneeling old man; "we don't want a noon-mark thar, cl'ar away from the jamb, ye fool! We want it whur the shadder o' the jamb 'll hit it plumb at noon."
The old man looked up from his position on "all-fours," and parried her attack with his lifted hand.
"Ye mout wait a minute!" he said; "then you'll see if me an' this yer youngster's both fools. I had a lesson that larnt me onct that he knows better 'n I dew what he's about; an' I 'lowed, this time, I'd go by faith, an' make the marks 'thout no remarks o' my own."
"The line will come just where you want it, Mrs. Wiggett," Jack assured her, hiding a laugh behind his compass.
Having got the old man to mark two points on his north-and-south line, one at the threshold and the other a little beyond, Jack put his rule to them and drew a pencil-line; Mrs. Wiggett watching with a jealous scowl, not seeing that her mark was coming where she wanted it,—"right ag'in the jamb,"—after all.
Then, by a simple operation, which even she understood, Jack surprised her.
He first measured the distance of his line from the jamb. Then he set off two points, on the same side, at the same distance from the line, farther along on the floor. Then through these points he drew a second line, parallel to the first, and touching the corner of the jamb, by which the noon shadow was to be cast. Into this new line Jack sank his noon-mark with a knife.
"There," said he, "is a true noon-mark, which will last as long as your house does,"—a prediction which, by a very astonishing occurrence, was to be proved false that very afternoon.
"I reckon the woman is satisfied," said the old man; "anyhow, I be; an' now what's the tax for this yer little scratch on the floor?"
"Not anything, Mr. Wiggett."
"Hey? ye make noon-marks for folks 'thout pay?"
"That depends. Sometimes, when off surveying, I'm hailed at the door of a house, and asked for a noon-mark. I never refuse it. Then, if convenient, I take my pay by stopping to dinner or supper. But I never accept money."
"Sartin!" cried the old man. "Yer, ol' woman!" (it must be remembered that Mrs. Wiggett was forty years younger than her husband), "fly round,—make things hum,—git up a supper as suddent as ye kin, an' ax our friend yer. Whur's that Sal?"
Mrs. Wiggett, who had appeared all pride and sunny smiles regarding her noon-mark (particularly after hearing it was not to be paid for), fell suddenly into a stormy mood, and once more began to cuff the children right and left.
Jack hastened to relieve her mind by saying that Mr. Wiggett had quite mistaken his meaning; that he had an engagement which must deprive him of the pleasure of taking supper with her and her interesting family. Thereupon she brightened again. The old man shook him warmly by the hand; and Jack, putting his compass into the buggy, drove back up the valley road.
Vinnie had told him that the Betterson boys were cutting logs for their aqueduct; and hearing the sound of an axe on his way back, Jack tied Snowfoot to a sapling by the road, and went up into the woods to find them.
"What! you coming too, Lion?" he said, after he had gone several rods. "Didn't I tell you to watch? Well, I believe I didn't. Never mind; Snowfoot is hitched."
He found Rufe and Wad cutting trees with great industry, having determined to have the logs laid from the spring to the house without delay.
"We've taken the farm of father, as you suggested," said Wad. "He is helping us do the fall ploughing while we get out our logs. He and Link are at it with the oxen, over beyond the house, now."
"And where's that precious cousin of yours?"
"I believe he has gone to the house to see if supper is about ready," said Rufe. "He's smart to work, when he does take hold, but his interest doesn't hold out, and the first we know, he is off."
Jack stopped and talked with the boys about their water-works for about half an hour. Then Rad came up through the woods, by way of the spring, and announced that supper was ready, greeting Jack with a jeering laugh.
"You'll take tea with us, of course," Rufe said to Jack.
"I suppose your father will be at the house by this time; I'll stop and see him, at any rate," was Jack's reply.
Rufe went with him down through the woods to where Snowfoot was left hitched. As they were getting into the buggy, Rufe noticed Zeph Peakslow coming out of some bushes farther down the road, and going towards home.
"See him slink off?" said Rufe. "He's afraid of me yet; but he needn't be,—I've promised Vinnie not to meddle with him."
Then, on the way home, Rufe surprised Jack by telling him how Vinnie had made acquaintance with the Peakslow family, and how Mrs. Peakslow, taking advantage of her husband's absence from home, had called on the Bettersons, under pretence of returning Vinnie's box of salve.
Mr. Betterson had not yet come to the house; and Jack, having hitched Snowfoot to an oak-tree, and told of his business with the Wiggetts, asked Vinnie and her sister if they would not like a noon-mark on their floor. "It will be a good thing to set your clock by when it goes wrong," he explained.
Vinnie gladly accepted the offer.
"And, O Jack!" she said, "I wish you would give Mrs. Peakslow one too."
"I would, certainly," said Jack; "but" (his pride coming up) "wouldn't it look as if I was anxious to make my peace with Peakslow?"
"Never mind that; I think even he will appreciate the kindness. I wish you would!"
"I will—to please you," said Jack. "This afternoon, if I have time." And he went to the buggy for his compass.
He fumbled in the blanket under the seat, looked before and behind, and uttered an exclamation.
"What's the trouble, Jack?" Rufe asked.
"It is gone! my compass is gone!" said Jack. "Somebody has taken it."
"That Zeph—we saw him, you know!" said Rufe. "It's one of his tricks."
"I'll overhaul that Zeph!" said Jack; "I'll teach him to play his tricks on me!"
Vinnie ran after him as he was starting off.
"Jack! don't be hasty or unkind!"
"O no! I won't be unkind," said Jack, with something bitter in his laugh. "I just want my compass, that's all." And he hurried down the road.
Jack's call on the Peakslows was brief and unsatisfactory. He returned to the "castle" without his compass, and looking flushed and disturbed.
"I didn't accuse Zeph of stealing," said Jack, fearful of being blamed by Vinnie. "They were at supper; and I just said, 'Zeph, my boy, what did you do with my compass?' He denied having touched it. I explained. Great commotion. Mamma Peakslow looked frightened out of her wits, and papa blazed away at me like a seventy-four-gun ship. In short, you will have to wait for your noon-mark, Mrs. Betterson. So will Mrs. Peakslow. I didn't tell her I was going to make her one, if Zeph hadn't stolen my compass."
"But you don't know he stole it," said Vinnie.
"We don't know that he and Dud put rubbish in our spring," Rufe made answer for Jack, "and yet we know it as well as we know anything we don't know."
"I can't tell what I was thinking of," said Jack, "to leave any property of mine unguarded, within reach of the Peakslows. Lion was up in the woods with me before I knew it."
"Where are you going now?" Vinnie asked.
"To look for my compass in the bushes. Zeph must have hid it somewhere, for he didn't have it when we saw him."
"Wait till after supper, and I will go with you," said Rufe. "Father is here now."
Mr. Betterson was coming up from the stable, accompanied by Radcliff. Rad had hastened to waylay him, and make a last appeal for the money which he knew Jack was waiting to receive. He talked and gesticulated earnestly; but Lord shook his head and compressed his lips with great firmness, whereupon Rad, instead of coming to supper with the rest, wandered sulkily away.
When Mr. Betterson had washed his hands and face, and brushed his hair, and put on his threadbare black coat and frayed stock, the family sat down at the table. Jack waited unwillingly, and soon excused himself, saying he must look for his compass before dark.
"I'll attend to our truckman's little matter when I come back," he said, and hurried away.
Link jumped up from the table and went with him; Rufe and Wad promising to follow as soon as they were through with their supper.
Careful search was made all about the roadside bushes where the wagon had been partially concealed when the compass was taken. Lion was also set to hunt. But all in vain. Some faint footprints were found, but Jack could not be sure that they were not either his own or Rufe's.
"Lion don't know what we are looking for; he's after rabbits," said Link. "Was this all the compass you had?"
"The only surveyor's compass; and the worst of it is, 't was a borrowed one. It belongs to Forrest Felton. He has a theodolite which we use for fine work; and I've a little pocket-compass, given me by an old lady a few years ago. I wouldn't have lost this for twice its value,—it's a most exasperating trick!" Jack muttered. "And now it is suddenly growing dark."
It was very suddenly growing very dark. A strange cloud was blackening the sunset sky. "Did you ever see anything so funny?" said Link.
"It is like the lower half of an immense balloon, the top spreading out," said Jack. "See that long, hanging, pear-shaped end!"
"I wonder if the folks at the house see it!" Link exclaimed, growing excited. "It looks like an elephant's trunk! By sixty, it's growing!"
"It's moving this way," said Jack. "Fast, too! and roaring,—hear it? There's an awful storm coming!"
"Oh!" cried Link, "see the lightning-forks! It will be here in a jiffy."
The "elephant's trunk," which had seemed to be feeling its way up the valley, now swung toward the line of timber; the roar which accompanied it became deafening; and suddenly the cloud, and all the air about it, seemed filled with whirling and flying objects, like the broken boughs and limbs of trees. It was like some living monster, vast, supernatural, rushing through the sky, and tearing and trampling the earth with fury. The mysterious swinging movement, the uproar, the gloom, the lightnings, were appalling. And now Lion set up a fearful, ominous howl.
"A whirlwind!" Jack exclaimed, shrieking to make himself heard. "I must go to my horse."
"Let's put for the house!" Link yelled.
But hardly had they reached the road when the storm was upon them.
Shortly after Jack and Link had left the table, Lord Betterson gave Rufus a small key, and told him to bring a certain pocket-book from the till of the family chest in the next room.
"We will have our friend's eighty dollars ready for him, against his return," Lord said; and, counting out the money, he placed it under the pocket-book, beside his plate.
Rufe and Wad were now ready to go and help Jack search for his compass; but a discussion which had been going on at intervals, ever since the draft came, was now renewed, and they stopped to take part in it.
"If I am going to get out to Divine service again, I must have a silk dress," said Caroline. "And, Mr. Betterson, you need a new suit; and you know—we all know—nothing becomes you but broadcloth, and the finest broadcloth. What do you think, Lavinia dear?"
"I am sure broadcloth is becoming to him," Vinnie replied quietly. "And I should like to see you come out in silk. And Cecie and Lilian need new things. But—how much of the two hundred and fifty dollars is left, Mr. Betterson?"
"Deducting Radcliff's share, one hundred and twenty odd dollars," said Lord, touching the pocket-book by his plate.
"One hundred and twenty dollars will go but a little way, in a family where so many things are absolutely needed!" said Vinnie. "It seems to me I should want to get this room and your room plastered, the first thing,—merely for comfort, in the cold weather that is coming."
"And carpeted, Lavinia dear," simpered Caroline.
"And if the house is ever to be painted," spoke up Rufe, "it must be done soon. It won't be worth painting if it is neglected much longer."
"And we need so many things in the kitchen!" said Lill. "Vinnie knows it, but she won't say anything."
"And lots of things on the farm," said Wad. "If Rufe and I are going to do anything, we must have conveniences. The idea of having such a house as this, and nothing but a miserable log-barn and stable!"
"We can't build a new barn for a hundred and twenty dollars," said Mr. Betterson. "And we can't buy farming tools, and kitchen utensils, and carpets, and silk, and broadcloth, and tea and sugar, and clothing for the children, and paint and plaster the house, all with so limited a sum. The question then arises, just what shall we do with the money?"
"O dear! just a little money like that is only an aggravation!" Caroline sighed, discouraged. "And I had hoped some of it would be left for Lavinia dear; she deserves it if anybody does."
"O, never mind me," Vinnie replied. "However, if I might suggest—"
But the family had been so long deciding this question, that Fortune seemed now to take it out of their hands, and decide it for them.
It suddenly grew dark, and an outcry from the boys interrupted Vinnie. The tornado was coming.
All rose, save Cecie,—who remained seated where she had been placed at the table,—and pressed to the door and windows.
The baby wakened in the next room, and began to cry, and Caroline went to take it up. The boys rushed out of the house. Vinnie turned pale and asked, "Where are they? Jack and Link!"
"As well off as they would be here probably," replied Lord Betterson. "Shut doors and windows fast. That horse should have been taken care of."
"Jack wouldn't let us put him up. I'll do it now," cried Rufe.
But he had hardly begun to undo the halter, when he saw the utter impossibility of getting the horse to the stable before the storm would be upon them. So, to prevent Snowfoot from breaking away and dashing the buggy to pieces, he determined to leave him tied to the tree, and stand by his head, until the first whirl or rush should have passed. This he attempted to do; and patted and encouraged the snorting, terrified animal, till he was himself flung by the first buffet of the hurricane back against the pillar of the porch, where he clung.
"Oh! what is that?" screamed Lill, watching with Vinnie from the window.