Bud Heyland fell headlong over the fence in pursuit of Fred.—(See page 151.)
He rolled over several times, and as he picked himself up it seemed as if most of his bones were broken and he never had been so jarred in all his life.
"Did you fall?" asked Cyrus Sutton, unable to suppress his laughter, as he climbed hastily after him.
"I tripped a little," was the angry reply, "and I don't see anything to laugh at; come on! we'll have him yet!"
To the astonishment of the cattle dealer, Bud caught up his hat and resumed the pursuit with only a moment's delay, and limping only slightly from his severe shaking up.
Fred Sheldon was dimly visible making for the woods, and the two followed, Sutton just a little behind his friend.
"You might as well give it up," said the elder; "he's got too much of a start and is making for cover."
"I'm bound to have him before he can reach it, and I'll pay him for all this."
No more than one hundred feet separated the parties, when Fred, beginning to feel the effects of his severe exertion, darted in among the shadows of the wood, and, hardly knowing what was the best to do, threw himself flat on the ground, behind the trunk of a large tree, where he lay panting and afraid the loud throbbing of his heart would betray him to his pursuers, who were so close behind him.
Had he been given a single minute more he would have made a sharp turn in his course, and thus could have thrown them off the track without difficulty; but, as it was—we shall see.
Bud Heyland rushed by within a few feet, and halted a couple of yards beyond, while Sutton stopped within a third of that distance, where Fred lay flat on the ground.
"Do you hear him?" asked Bud.
"Hear him? No; he's given us the slip, and it's all time thrown away to hunt further for him."
Bud uttered an angry exclamation and stood a few minutes listening for some sound that would tell where the eavesdropper was.
But nothing was heard, and Sutton moved forward, passing so close to Fred that the latter could have reached out his hand and touched him.
"How could he help seeing me?" the boy asked himself, as the man joined Bud Heyland, and the two turned off and moved in the direction of the highway.
Some distance away Bud Heyland and Sutton stopped and talked together in such low tones that Fred Sheldon could only hear the murmur of their voices, as he did when he first learned of their presence beside the road.
But it is, perhaps, needless to say that he was content to let them hold their conference in peace, without any effort on his part to overhear any more of it. He was only too glad to let them alone, and to indulge a hope that they would be equally considerate toward him.
Bud would have continued the search much longer and with a strong probability of success had not Sutton persuaded him that it was only a waste of time to do so. Accordingly they resumed their walk, with many expressions of impatience over their failure to capture the individual who dared to discover their secrets in such an underhanded way.
"He looked to me like a very small man," said Bud, as he walked slowly along, dusting the dirt from his clothing and rubbing the many bruised portions of his body.
"Of course he was," replied Sutton, "or he wouldn't have gone into that kind of business."
"I don't mean that; he seemed like a short man."
"Yes, so he was, but there are plenty of full-grown men in this world who are no taller than he."
"It's too bad, I broke my pipe all to pieces when I fell over the fence, and jammed the stem half way down my throat."
"I thought you had broken your neck," said Sutton, "and you ought to be thankful that you did not."
Bud muttered an ill-natured reply, and the two soon after debouched into the highway, along which they continued until the house of the younger was reached, where they stopped a minute or so for a few more words, when they separated for the night.
Fred Sheldon waited until they were far beyond sight and hearing, when he cautiously rose to his feet and stood for a short time to make sure he could leave the spot without detection.
"I guess I've had enough for one night," he said with a sigh, as he turned off across the meadow until he reached the border of the lane, along which he walked until he knocked at the door of the Misses Perkinpine, where he was admitted with the same cordiality that was always shown him.
They seemed to think he had stayed at the hired man's house for a chat with Bud, and made no inquiries, while the boy himself did not deem it best to tell what had befallen him.
His recent experience had been so severe upon him that he felt hungry enough to eat another supper, and he would not have required a second invitation to do so, but, as the first was not given, he concluded to deny himself for the once.
Fred expected to lie awake a long time after going to bed, trying to solve the meaning of the few significant words he had overheard, but he fell asleep almost immediately, and did not wake until called by Aunt Lizzie.
This was Friday, the last school-day of the week, and he made sure of being on hand in time. As he had been absent by the permission of his mother, made known through a note sent before she went to see her brother, Mr. McCurtis could not take him to task for his failure to attend school, but a number of lads who had been tempted away by the circus and the excitement over the escaped lion were punished severely.
However, they absented themselves with a full knowledge of what would follow, and took the bitter dregs with the sweet, content to have the pain if they might first have the pleasure.
"I have excused several of you," said the teacher, peering very keenly through his glasses at Fred, "for absence, but I have not been asked to excuse any failure in lessons, and I do not intend to do so. Those who have been loitering and wasting their time will soon make it appear when called on to recite, and they must be prepared for the consequences."
This remark was intended especially for Fred, who was thankful that he found out what the lessons of the day were, for he had prepared himself perfectly.
And it was well he did so, for the teacher seemed determined to puzzle him. Fred was asked every sort of question the lesson could suggest. It had always been said by Mrs. Sheldon that Fred never knew a lesson so long as he failed to see clear through it, and could answer any question germane to it.
He felt the wisdom of such instruction on this occasion, when the teacher at the end of the examination allowed him to take his seat and remarked, half angrily:
"There's a boy who knows his lessons, which is more than I can say of a good many of you. I think it will be a good thing for him to go out and hunt a few more lions."
This was intended as a witticism on the part of the teacher, and, like the urchins of Goldsmith's "Deserted Village," they all laughed with "counterfeit glee," some of the boys roaring as if they would fall off the benches from the excess of their mirth.
Mr. McCurtis smiled grimly, and felt it was another proof that when he became a school teacher the world lost one of its greatest comedians and wits.
At recess and noon Fred was quite a hero among the scholars. They gathered about him and he had to tell the story over and over again, as well as the dreadful feelings that must have been his when he woke up in the night and found that a real, live burglar was in his room.
Like most boys of his age, Fred unconsciously exaggerated in telling the narratives so often, but he certainly deserved credit, not only for his genuine bravery, but for the self-restraint that enabled him to keep back some other things he might have related which would have raised him still more in the admiration of his young friends.
"I'm going to tell them to mother first of all," was his conclusion, "and I will take her advice as to what I should do."
He brought the lunch the Misses Perkinpine had put up for him, and stayed in the neighborhood of the school-house all noon, with a number of others, who lived some distance away. As the weather was quite warm, the boys sat under a tree, talking over the stirring incidents of the preceding few days.
Fred was answering a question for the twentieth time, when he was alarmed by the sudden appearance of Bud Heyland, with his trousers tucked in his boots, his briar-wood pipe—that is, a new one—in his mouth, and his blacksnake-whip in hand.
As he walked along he looked at the school-house very narrowly, almost coming to a full stop, and acting as though he was searching for some one. He did not observe that half a dozen boys were stretched out in the shadow of the big tree across the road.
"Keep still!" said Fred, in a whisper, "and maybe he won't see us."
But young Heyland was not to be misled so easily. Observing that the school was dismissed, he looked all around him, and quickly espied the little fellows lolling in the shade, when he immediately walked over toward them.
Fred Sheldon's heart was in his mouth on the instant, for he was sure Bud was looking for him.
"He must have known me last night," he thought, "and as he couldn't catch me then he has come to pay me off now."
But it would have been a confession of guilt to start and run, and Bud would be certain to overtake him before he could go far, so the boy did not stir from the ground on which he was reclining.
"Halloo, Bud," called out several, as he approached. "How are you getting along?"
"None of your business," was the characteristic answer; "is Fred Sheldon there?"
"I'm here," said Fred, rising to the sitting position. "What do you want of me?"
Bud Heyland acted curiously. He looked sharply at the boy, and then said:
"I don't want anything of you just now, but I'll see you later," and without anything further he moved on, leaving our hero wondering why he had not asked for the ten dollars due him.
Fred expected he would return, and was greatly relieved when the teacher appeared and school was called. Fearful that the bully would wait for him on the road, Fred went to the old brick mansion first, where he stayed till dark, when he decided to run over to his own home, look after matters there, and then return by a new route to the old ladies who were so kind to him.
He kept a sharp lookout on the road, but saw nothing of either Bud or Cyrus Sutton.
"It seems to me," said Fred to himself, as he approached the old familiar spot, "that I ought to hear something from mother by this time. There isn't any school to-morrow, and I'll walk over to Uncle Will's and find out when she's coming home, and then I'll tell her all I've got to tell, which is so much, with what I want to ask, that it'll take me a week to get through—halloo! What does that mean?"
He stopped short in the road, for through the closed blinds of the lower story he caught the twinkling rays of a light that some one had started within.
"I wonder whether it is our house they're going to rob to-night," exclaimed Fred, adding the next moment, with a grim humor: "If it is, they will be more disappointed than they ever were in their lives."
A minute's thought satisfied him that no one with a view to robbery was there, for the good reason that there was nothing to steal, as anyone would be quick to learn.
"It must be some tramp prowling around in the hope of getting something to eat. Anyway, I will soon find out——"
Just then the window was raised, the shutters thrown wide open by some person, who leaned part way out the window in full view.
One glance was enough for Fred Sheldon to recognize that face and form, the dearest on earth, as seen in the starlight, with the yellow rays of the lamp behind them.
"Halloo, mother! Ain't I glad to see you? How are you? Bless your dear soul! What made you stay away so long?"
"Fred, my own boy!"
And leaning out the window she threw both arms about the neck of the lad, who in turn threw his about her, just as the two always did when they met after a brief separation.
The fact of it was, Fred Sheldon was in love with his mother and always had been, and that sort of boy is sure to make his mark in this world.
A few minutes later the happy boy had entered the house and was sitting at the tea table, eating very little and talking very much.
The mother told him that his uncle had been dangerously ill, but had begun to mend that day, and was now believed to have passed the crisis of his fever, and would soon get well. She therefore expected to stay with her boy all the time.
And then the delighted little fellow began his story, or rather series of stories, while the kind eyes of the handsome and proud parent were fixed on the boy with an interest which could not have been stronger.
Her face paled when, in his own graphic way, he pictured his lonely watch in the old brick mansion, and the dreadful discovery that the wicked tramp had entered the building stealthily behind him. She shuddered to think that her loved one had been so imperiled, and was thankful indeed that Providence had protected him.
Then the story of the lion, of its unexpected breaking out from the cage, the panic of the audience, his encounter with it in the lane, its entry into the smoke-house, his shutting the door, and finally how he earned and received the reward. All this was told with a childish simplicity and truthfulness which would have thrilled any one who had a less personal interest than the boy's mother.
As I have said, there were no secrets that the son kept from his parent. He told how he saw that the tramp wore false whiskers and how he dropped a knife on the floor, which he got and showed to his mother, explaining to her at the same time that the letters were the initials of the young man known through the neighborhood as "Bud" Heyland.
"That may all be," said she, smilingly, "and yet Bud may be as innocent as you or I."
"How is that?" asked Fred, wonderingly.
"He may have traded or lost the knife, or some one may have stolen it and left it there on purpose to turn suspicion toward Bud. Such things have been done many a time, and it is odd that anyone could drop a knife in such a place without knowing it."
Fred opened his eyes.
"Then Bud is innocent, you think?"
"No, I believe he is guilty, for you say you were pretty sure of his voice, but it won't do to be too certain. As to the other man, who misled you when you met him in the lane, it is a hard thing to say who he is."
"Why, mother, I'm surer of him than I am of Bud, and I'm dead sure of him, you know."
"What are your reasons?"
Fred gave them as they are already known to the reader. The wise little woman listened attentively, and said when he had finished:
"I don't wonder that you think as you do, but you once was as sure, as I understand, of Mr. Kincade, the one who paid you the reward."
"That is so," assented Fred, "but I hadn't had so much time to think over the whole matter."
"Very probably you are right, for they are intimate, and they are staying in the neighborhood for no good. Tell me just what you heard them say last night, when they sat on the rock by the roadside. Be careful not to put in any words of your own, but give only precisely what you know were spoken by the two."
The boy did as requested, the mother now and then asking a question and keeping him down close to the task of telling only the plain, simple truth, concerning which there was so much of interest to both.
When he was through she said the words of the two showed that some wicked scheme was in contemplation, though nothing had been heard to indicate its precise nature.
The matter having been fully told the question remained—and it was the great one which underlay all others—what could Fred do to earn the large reward offered by the two ladies who had lost their property?
"Remember," said his mother, thoughtfully, "you are only a small boy fourteen years old, and it is not reasonable to think you can out-general two bad persons who have learned to be cunning in all they do."
"Nor was it reasonable to think I would out-general a big lion," said Fred, with a laugh, as he leaned on his mother's lap and looked up in her eyes.
"No; but that lion was old and harmless; he might have spent the remainder of his days in this neighborhood without any one being in danger."
"But we didn't know that."
"But you know that Bud Heyland and this Mr. Sutton are much older than you and are experienced in evil doing."
"So was the lion," ventured Fred, slyly, quite hopeful of earning the prize on which he had set his heart. "I have been thinking that maybe I ought to tell Mr. Jackson, the constable, about the knife, with Bud's name on it."
"No," said the mother. "It isn't best to tell him anything, for he has little discretion. He boasts too much about what he is going to do; the wise and skilful man never does that."
Mrs. Sheldon had "gauged" the fussy little constable accurately when she thus described him.
"Fred," suddenly said his mother, "do not the Misses Perkinpine expect you to stay at their house to-night?"
"Yes, I told them I would be back, and they will be greatly surprised, for I didn't say anything about your coming home, because I thought Uncle Will was so sick you wouldn't be able to leave him."
"Then you had better run over and explain why it is you cannot stay with them to-night."
The affectionate boy disliked to leave his mother when they were holding such a pleasant conversation, but he could please her only by doing so, and donning his broad-brimmed straw hat, and bidding her good-night, passed out the door, promising soon to return.
Fred was so anxious to spend the evening at home that he broke into a trot the instant he passed out the gate, and kept it up along the highway until he reached the short lane, which was so familiar to him.
The same eagerness to return caused him to forget one fact that had hitherto impressed him, which was that the conspiracy of Bud Heyland and Cyrus Sutton was intended to be carried out this same evening.
The boy had gone almost the length of the lane when he was surprised to observe a point of light moving about in the shadow of the trees, the night being darker than the previous one.
"What under the sun can that be?" he asked, stopping short and scrutinizing it with an interest that may be imagined.
Viewed from where he stood, it looked like a jack-o'-lantern, or a candle which some one held in his hand while moving about.
It had that swaying, up-and-down motion, such as a person makes when walking rapidly, while now and then it shot up a little higher, as though the bearer had raised it over his head to get a better view of his surroundings.
"Well, that beats everything I ever heard of," muttered Fred, resuming his walk toward the house; "it must be some kind of a lantern, and maybe it's one of them dark ones which robbers use, and they are taking a look at the outside to see which is the best way of getting inside, though I don't think there is anything left for them."
The distance to the house was so short that Fred soon reached the yard. On his way thither the strange light vanished several times, only to reappear again, its occasional eclipse, no doubt, being due to the intervening vegetation.
When the boy came closer he saw that the lantern was held in the hand of Aunt Lizzie, who was walking slowly around the yard, with her sister by her side, while they peered here and there with great deliberation and care.
"Why, Aunt Lizzie!" called out Fred, as he came up, "what are you looking for?"
The good ladies turned toward him with a faint gasp of fright, and then gave utterance to an expression of thankfulness.
"Why, Frederick, we are looking for you," was the reply, and then, complimenting his truthfulness, she added, "you promised to come back, and we knew you wouldn't tell a story, and sister and I thought maybe you were hungry and sick somewhere around the yard, and if so we were going to get you into the house and give you some supper."
"Why, aunties, I've had supper," laughed Fred, amused beyond measure at the simplicity of the good ladies.
"We didn't suppose that made any difference," was the kind remark of the good ladies, who showed by the observation that they had a pretty accurate knowledge after all of this particular specimen of boyhood.
Fred Sheldon told his good friends that inasmuch as his mother had returned, he would stay at home hereafter, though he promised to drop in upon them quite often and "take dinner or supper."
The lantern was blown out and the sisters went inside, where, for the present, we must bid them good-night, and the lad started homeward.
He had not quite reached the main highway, when, in the stillness of the night, he caught the rattle of carriage or wagon wheels. There was nothing unusual in this, for it was the place and time to look for vehicles, many of which went along the road at all hours of the day and night.
But so many strange things had happened to Fred during the week now drawing to a close that he stopped on reaching the outlet of the lane, and, standing close to the shaded trunk of a large tree, waited until the wagon should go by.
As it came nearer he saw that it was what is known in some parts of the country as a "spring-wagon," being light running, with a straight body and without any cover, so that the driver, sitting on the front seat, was the most conspicuous object about it.
As it came directly opposite Fred could see that the driver wore a large sombrero-like hat, and was smoking a pipe. At the same moment, too, he gave a peculiar sound, caused by an old habit of clearing his throat, which identified him at once as Bud Heyland.
"That's odd," thought Fred, stepping out from his place of concealment and following after him; "when Bud goes out at night with a strange wagon or alone, or with Cyrus Sutton, there's something wrong on foot."
Not knowing what was best for him to do, Fred walked behind the wagon a short distance, for the horse was going so slow that this was an easy matter. But all at once Bud struck the animal a sharp blow, which sent him spinning forward at such a rate that he speedily vanished in the darkness.
Young Sheldon continued walking toward home, his thoughts busy until he reached the stretch of woods, where the courage of any boy would have been tried in passing it after nightfall. Brave as he undoubtedly was, Fred felt a little shiver, when fairly among the dense shadows, for there were some dismal legends connected with it, and these had grown with the passage of years.
But Fred had never turned back for anything of the kind, and he was now so cheered by the prospect of being soon again with his mother that he stepped off briskly, and would have struck up one of his characteristic whistling tunes had he not heard the rattle of the same wagon which Bud Heyland drove by a short while before.
"That's strange," thought the lad; "he couldn't have gone very far, or he wouldn't have come back so soon."
The darkness was so profound over the stretch of road leading through the wood that Fred had no fear of being seen as he stepped a little to one side and waited for the vehicle to pass.
Fortunately for night travel, the portion of the highway which led through the forest was not long, for, without the aid of a lantern, no one could see whither he was going, and everything had to be left to the instinct of the horse himself.
The beast approached at a slow walk, while Bud no doubt was perched on the high front seat, using his eyes for all they were worth, which was nothing at all where the gloom was so impenetrable. He must have refilled his pipe a short time before, for he was smoking so vigorously that the ember-like glow of the top of the tobacco could be seen, and the crimson reflection even revealed the end of Bud's nose and the faintest possible glimpse of his downy mustache and pimply cheeks, as they glided through the darkness.
The light from this pipe was so marked that Fred moved back a step or two, afraid it might reveal him to his enemy.
His withdrawal was not entirely satisfactory to himself, as he could not observe where to place his feet, and striking his heels against a fallen limb, he went over backward with quite a bump.
"Who's that?" demanded Bud Heyland, checking his horse and glaring about in the gloom; "is that you, Sutton?"
Fred thought it wiser to make no response, and he silently got upon his feet again. Bud repeated his question in a husky undertone, and receiving no reply muttered some profanity and started the horse forward at the same slow, deliberate pace.
Wondering what it could all mean, young Sheldon stood in the middle of the road, looking in the direction of the vanishing wagon, of which, as a matter of course, he could not catch the slightest glimpse, and asking himself whether it would be wise to investigate further.
"There's some mischief going on, and it may be that I can—halloo!"
Once more Bud Heyland drew his horse to a halt, and the same solemn stillness held reign as before. But it was only for a minute or two, when Bud gave utterance to a low whistle, which sounded like the tremolo notes of a flute, on the still air.
Fred Sheldon recalled that the bully used to indulge in that peculiar signal when he attended school, merely because he fancied it, and when there could be no significance at all attached to it.
It was now repeated several times, with such intervals as to show that Bud was expecting a reply, though none could be heard by the lad, who was listening for a response.
All at once, yielding to a mischievous impulse, Fred Sheldon replied, imitating Bud's call with astonishing accuracy.
Instantly the bully seized upon it, and the signal was exchanged several times, when Bud sprang out of his wagon and came toward the spot where the other stood.
Fred was frightened when he found there was likely to be a meeting between him and the one he dreaded so much, and he became as silent as the tomb.
Bud advanced through the gloom, continually whistling and giving utterance to angry expressions because he was not answered, while Fred carefully picked his way a few paces further to the rear to escape discovery.
"Why don't you speak?" called out Bud; "if you can whistle you can use your voice, can't you?"
Although this question could have been easily answered, Fred Sheldon thought it best to hold his peace.
"If you ain't the biggest fool that ever undertook to play the gentleman!" added the disgusted bully, groping cautiously among the trees; "everything is ready for——"
Just then an outstretching limb passed under the chin of Bud Heyland, and, though walking slowly, he thought it would lift his head off his shoulders before he could stop himself.
When he did so he was in anything but an amiable mood, and Fred, laughing, yet scared, was glad he had the friendly darkness in which to find shelter from the ugliness of the fellow.
Bud had hardly regained anything like his self-possession when he caught a similar signal to those which had been going on for some minutes between Fred Sheldon and himself. It came from some point beyond Fred, but evidently in the highway.
The angry Heyland called out:
"What's the matter with you? Why don't you come on, you fool?"
The person thus addressed hurried over the short distance until he was close to where Bud stood rubbing his chin and muttering all sorts of bad words at the delay and pain to which he had been subjected.
"Halloo, Bud, where are you?"
Guarded as the voice was, Fred immediately recognized it as belonging to Cyrus Sutton, the cattle drover.
"I'm here; where would I be?" growled the angry bully.
"Tumbling over a fence, or cracking your head against a tree, I suppose," said Sutton, with a laugh; "when I whistled to you, why didn't you whistle back again, as we agreed to do?"
It is easy to picture the scowling glare which Bud Heyland turned upon Sutton as he answered:
"You're a purty one to talk about signals, ain't you? After answering me half a dozen times, and I got close to you, you must shut up your mouth, and while I went groping about, I came near sawing my head off with a knotty limb. When you heard me, why did you stop?"
"Heard you? What are you talking about?"
"Didn't you whistle to me a while ago, and didn't you keep it up till I got here, and then you stopped? What are you talking about, indeed!"
"I was a little late," said Sutton, who began to suspect the truth, "and have just come into the wood; I whistled to you, and then you called to me in a rather more personal style than I think is good taste, and I came forward and here I am, and that's all there is about it."
"Wasn't that you that answered my whistling a little while ago?" asked Bud Heyland in an undertone, that fairly trembled with dread.
"No, sir; as I have explained to you, I signaled to find where you were only a minute since, and I heard nothing of the kind from you."
"Then we're betrayed!"
Words would fail to depict the tragic manner in which Bud Heyland gave utterance to this strange remark. His voice was in that peculiar condition, known as "changing," and at times was a deep bass, sometimes breaking into a thin squeak.
He sank it to its profoundest depths as he slowly repeated the terrifying expression, and the effect would have been very impressive, even to Cyrus Sutton, but for the fact that on the last word his voice broke and terminated with a sound like that made by a domestic fowl when the farmer seizes it by the head with the intention of wringing its neck.
But Cyrus Sutton seemed to think that it was anything else than a laughing matter, and he asked the particulars of Bud, who gave them in a stealthily modulated voice, every word of which was plainly heard by Fred Sheldon, who began to feel somewhat uncomfortable.
"You remember the man that was behind us listening when we sat on the rock last night?" asked Bud.
"Of course I do."
"Well, he's watching us still, and ain't far off this very minute. I wish I had a chance to draw a bead on him."
"You drew several beads last night," said Sutton.
"See here," snarled Bud, "that's enough of that. I'll give you a little advice for your own good—let it drop."
"Well, Bud," said the other, in an anxious voice, "it won't do to try it on now if some one is watching us. So drive back to Tottenville, put the horse away and we'll take a look around to-morrow night. If the coast is clear we'll wind the business up."
"It's got to be wound up then," said the bully, earnestly; "it won't do for me to wait any longer; I've got to j'ine the circus on Monday, and I must start on Sunday to make it."
"Very well; then we'll take a look around to-morrow and fix things at night."
"Agreed," said Bud, "for you can see that if some officer is watching us—halloo!"
This exclamation was caused by the sudden sound of wagon wheels, and man and boy knew at once that Bud's horse, probably tired of standing still, had started homeward with the enthusiasm of a steed who believes that a good supper is awaiting him.
When a horse takes it into his head to go home, with a view of having a good meal, the attraction seems to become stronger from the moment he makes the first move.
Bud Heyland's animal began with a very moderate pace, but he increased it so rapidly that by the time the angry driver was on the run, the quadruped was going almost equally as fast.
In the hope of scaring the brute into stopping Bud shouted:
"Whoa! whoa! Stop, or I'll kill you!"
If the horse understood the command, he did not appreciate the threat, and, therefore, it served rather as a spur to his exertion, for he went faster than ever.
It is well known, also, that under such circumstances the sagacious animal is only intent on reaching home with the least delay, and he does not care a pin whether his flight injures the vehicle behind him or not. In fact, he seems to be better pleased if it does suffer some disarrangement.
When, therefore, the animal debouched from the wood into the faint light under the stars he was on a gallop, and the wagon was bounding along from side to side in an alarming way. Bud was not far behind it, and shouting in his fiercest manner, he soon saw that he was only wasting his strength. He then ceased his outcries and devoted all his energies to overtaking the runaway horse.
"It'll be just like him to smash the wagon all to flinders," growled Bud, "and I'll have to pay for the damages."
As nearly as could be determined, horse and lad were going at the same pace, the boy slightly gaining, perhaps, and growing more furious each minute, for this piece of treachery on the part of the horse.
Some twenty yards separated the pursuer from the team, when a heavy, lumbering wagon loomed to view ahead.
"Get out of the road!" called Bud, excitedly. "This hoss is running away, and he'll smash you if you don't!"
At such times a farmer is slow to grasp the situation, and the old gentleman, who was half asleep, could not understand what all the rumpus was about, until the galloping horse was upon him. Then he wrenched his lines, hoping to pull his team aside in time, but his honest nags were as slow as their owner, and all they did was to get themselves out of the way, so as to allow the light vehicle to crash into that to which they were attached.
It is the frailer vessel which generally goes to the wall at such times, though Bud's was armed with a good deal of momentum. As it was the front wheel was twisted off, and the frightened horse continued at a swifter gait than ever toward his home, while Bud, seeing how useless it was to try to overtake him, turned upon the old farmer, who was carefully climbing out of his wagon to see whether his property had suffered any damage.
"Why didn't you get out the way when I hollered to you?" demanded the panting Bud, advancing threateningly upon him.
"Why didn't you holler sooner, my young friend?" asked the old gentleman, in a soft voice.
"I yelled to you soon enough, and you're a big fool that you didn't pull aside as I told you. I hope your old rattle-trap has been hurt so it can't be fixed up."
"I can't diskiver that it's been hurt at all, and I'm very thankful," remarked the farmer, stooping down and feeling the spokes and axletree with his hands; "but don't you know it is very disrespectful for a boy like you to call an old man a fool?"
Bud snarled:
"I generally say just what I mean, and what are you going to do about it, old Hay Seed?"
The gentleman thus alluded to showed what he meant to do about it, for he reached quietly upward and lifted his whip from its socket in the front of the wagon.
"I say again," added Bud, not noticing the movement, and swaggering about, "that any man who acts like you is a natural born fool, and the best thing you can do is to go home——"
Just then something cracked like a pistol shot and the whip of the old farmer whizzed about the legs of the astounded scapegrace, who, with a howl similar to that which Fred Sheldon uttered under similar treatment, bounded high in air and started on a run in the direction of his flying vehicle.
At the second step the whip descended again, and it was repeated several times before the terrified Bud could get beyond reach of the indignant gentleman, who certainly showed more vigor than any one not knowing him would have looked for.
"Some boys is very disrespectful, and should be teached manners," he muttered, turning calmly about and going back to his team, which stood sleepily in the road awaiting him.
"What's getting into folks?" growled Bud Heyland, trying to rub his smarting legs in half a dozen places at once; "that's the sassiest old curmudgeon I ever seen. If I'd knowed he was so sensitive I wouldn't have argued the matter so strong. Jingo! But he knows how to swing a whip. When he brought down the lash on to me, I orter just jumped right into him and knocked him down, and I'd done it, too, if I hadn't been afraid of one thing, which was that he'd knocked me down first. Plague on him! I'll get even with him yet. I wish——"
Bud stopped short in inexpressible disgust, for just then he recalled that he had his loaded revolver with him, and he ought to have used it to defend himself.
The assault of the old gentleman was so sudden that his victim had no time to think of anything but to place himself beyond reach of his strong and active arm.
"I don't know what makes me so blamed slow in thinking of things," added Bud, resuming the rubbing of his legs and his walk toward Tottenville, "but I must learn to wake up sooner. I'm sure I got in some good work to-day, and I'll finish it up in style to-morrow night, or my name ain't Nathaniel Higgins Heyland, and then I'm going to skip out of this slow place in a hurry and have a good time with the boys. What's that?"
He discerned the dim outlines of some peculiar looking object in the road, and going to it, suddenly saw what it was.
"Yes, I might have knowed it!" he muttered, with another forcible expression; "it's a wagon wheel; the second one off that good-for-nothing one I hired of Grimsby, and I'll have a pretty bill to pay when I get there. I 'spose I'll find the rest of the wagon strewed all along the road; yes——"
Bud was not far wrong in his supposition, for a little further on he came upon a third wheel, which was leaning against the fence, as though it were "tired," and near by was the fourth.
After that the fragments of the ruined vehicle were met with continually, until the angered young man wondered how it was there could be so much material in such an ordinary structure.
"It's about time I begun to find something of the horse," he added, with a grim sense of the grotesque humor of the idea; "I wouldn't care if I came across his head and legs scattered along the road, for I'm mad enough agin him to blow him up, but I won't get the chance, for old Grimsby won't let me have him agin when I go out to take a ride to-morrow night."
Things could not have been in a worse condition than when Bud, tired and angry, walked up on the porch of the hotel and dropped wearily into one of the chairs that were always there.
Old Mr. Grimsby was awaiting him, and said the animal was badly bruised, and as for the wagon, the only portion he could find any trace of was the shafts, which came bounding into the village behind the flying horse.
Mr. Grimsby's principal grief seemed to be that Bud himself had not shared the fate of the wagon, and he did not hesitate to so express himself.
"The damages won't be a cent less than a hundred dollars," added the angry keeper of the livery stable.
"Will you call it square for that?" asked Bud, looking at the man, who was leaning against the post in front of him.
"Yes, of course I will?"
"Very well; write out a receipt in full and sign it and I'll pay it."
Mr. Grimsby scanned him curiously for a minute, and then said:
"If you're in earnest come over to my office."
Bud got up and followed him into his little dingy office, where he kept a record of his humble livery business, and after considerable fumbling with his oil-lamp, found pen and paper and the receipt was written and signed.
While he was thus employed Bud Heyland had counted one hundred dollars in ten-dollar bills, which he passed over to Mr. Grimsby, who, as was his custom, counted them over several times.
As he did so he noticed that they were crisp, new bills, and looked as if they were in circulation for the first time.
He carefully folded them up and put them away in his wallet with a grim smile, such as is apt to be shown by a man of that character when he thinks he has got the better of a friend in a bargain or trade.
And as Bud Heyland walked out he smiled, too, in a very meaning way.
Fred Sheldon did not give much attention to Bud Heyland after he started in pursuit of his runaway horse, but, turning in the opposite direction, he moved carefully through the wood toward his mother's house.
He did not forget that Cyrus Sutton was somewhere near him, and the boy dreaded a meeting with the cattle drover almost as much as he did with Bud Heyland himself; but he managed to get out of the piece of wood without seeing or being seen by him, and then he made all haste to his own home, where he found his mother beginning to wonder over his long absence.
Fred told the whole story, anxious to hear what she had to say about a matter on which he had made up his own mind.
"It looks as though Bud Heyland and this Mr. Sutton, that you have told me about, are partners in some evil doing."
"Of course they are; it can't be anything else, but what were they doing in the woods with the wagon?"
"Perhaps they expected to meet some one else."
"I don't think so, from what they said; it would have been better if I hadn't whistled to Bud, wouldn't it?"
"Perhaps not," replied the mother, "for it looks as if by doing so you prevented their perpetrating some wrong for which they had laid their plans, and were frightened by finding some one else was near them."
"I'm going to take a look through that wood to-morrow and keep watch; I think I will find out something worth knowing."
"You cannot be too careful, Fred, for it is a wonder to me that you have kept out of trouble so long——"
Both were startled at this moment by the closing of the gate, followed by a rapid footstep along the short walk, and then came a sharp knocking on the door.
Fred sprang up from his seat beside his mother and quickly opened the door. The fussy little constable, Archie Jackson, stood before them.
"Good evening, Frederick; good evening, Mrs. Sheldon," he said, looking across the room to the lady and taking off his hat to her, as he stepped within.
The handsome little lady arose, bowed and invited him to a seat, which he accepted, bowing his thanks again.
It was easy to see from the manner of Archie that he was full of the most important kind of business. He was in danger of tipping his chair over, from the prodigious extent to which he threw out his breast, as he carefully deposited his hat on the floor beside him and cleared his throat, with a vigor which could have been heard by any one passing outside.
"A pleasant night," he remarked, looking benignantly upon Mrs. Sheldon, who nodded her head to signify that she agreed with him in his opinion of the weather.
After this preliminary he came to the point—that is, in his own peculiar way.
"Mrs. Sheldon, you have a very fine boy there," he said, nodding toward Fred, who turned quite red in the face.
"I am glad to hear you have such a good opinion of him," was the modest manner in which the mother acknowledged the compliment to her only child.
"I understand that he is the brightest scholar in school, and has the reputation of being truthful and honest, and I know him to be as full of pluck and courage as a—a—spring lamb," added the constable, clearing his throat again, to help him out of his search for a metaphor.
Mrs. Sheldon simply bowed and smiled, while Archie looked at his right hand, which was still swollen and tender from its violent contact with the stump that he mistook for the lion some nights before.
He remarked something about hurting it in the crack of the door when playing with his children, and added:
"Fred has become quite famous from the shrewd manner in which he captured the lion."
"I don't see as he deserves any special credit for that," observed the mother, "for I understand the animal was such an old one that he was almost harmless, and then he was kind enough to walk into the smoke-house and give Fred just the chance he needed. I regard it rather as a piece of good fortune than a display of courage."
"You are altogether too modest, Mrs. Sheldon—altogether too modest. Think of his stealing up to the open door of the smoke or milk-house when the creatur' was crunching bones inside! I tell you, Mrs. Sheldon, it took a great deal more courage than you will find in most men to do that."
The lady was compelled to admit that it was a severe test of the bravery of a boy, but she insisted that Fred had been favored by Providence, or good fortune, as some called it.
"What I want to come at," added Archie, clearing his throat again and spitting in his hat, mistaking it for the cuspidor on the other side, "is that I would be pleased if he could secure the reward which the Misses Perkinpine have offered for the recovery of their silverware, to say nothing of the money that was taken."
"It would be too unreasonable to hope that he could succeed in such a task as that."
"I'm not so sure, when you recollect that he saw the two parties who were engaged in the burglarious transaction. I thought maybe he might have some clew which would enable the officers of the law to lay their fingers on the guilty parties."
Fred was half tempted to say that he had such a clew in his pocket that very minute, but he was wise enough to hold his peace.
Once more the constable cleared his throat.
"But such is not the fact—ah, excuse me—I thought that was the spittoon, instead of my hat—how stupid!—and to relieve his mind of the anxiety which I know he must feel, I have called to make a statement."
Having said this much the visitor waited until he thought his auditors were fully impressed, when he added:
"When this robbery was made known to me I sent to New York city at once for one of the most famous detectives, giving him full particulars and urging him to come without delay; but for some reason, which I cannot understand, Mr. Carter has neither come nor written—a very discourteous proceeding on his part, to say the least; so I undertook the whole business alone—that is, without asking the help of anyone."
"I hope you have met with success," was the truthful wish expressed by Mrs. Sheldon.
"I have, I am glad to inform you. I have found out who the man was that, in the disguise of a tramp, eat a meal at the house of the Misses Perkinpine on Monday evening, and who afterward entered the building stealthily, and with the assistance of a confederate carried off all their valuable silverware and a considerable amount of money."
"You've fastened it on Bud, eh?" asked Fred, greatly interested.
The constable looked impressively at the lad, and said:
"There's where you make a great mistake; in fact, nothing in this world is easier than to make an error. I was sure it was Bud from what you told me, and you will remember I hinted as much to him on the day of the circus."
"Yes, and he turned red in the face and was scared."
"His face couldn't turn much redder than it is, and blushing under such circumstances can't always be taken as a proof of guilt; but I set to work and I found the guilty man."
"And it wasn't Bud?"
"He hadn't anything to do with it."
"But there were two of them, for I saw them."
"Of course; and I know the other man also."
This was important news indeed, and mother and son could only stare at their visitor in amazement. The constable, with all the pomposity of which he was master, picked up his hat from the floor and arose to his feet.
"Of course a detective doesn't go round the country boasting of what he has done and is going to do. Those who know me, know that I am one of the most modest of men and rarely speak of my many exploits. But I may tell you that you can prepare yourselves for one of the greatest surprises of your life."
"When is it going to come?" asked Fred.
"Very soon; in a day or two; maybe to-morrow; at any rate by Monday at the latest."
Mrs. Sheldon saw that the fussy officer was anxious to tell more and needed but the excuse of a question or two from her.
But she did not ask him anything, for with the intuition of her sex she had read his nature the first time she talked with him, and she had little faith in his high-sounding declaration of success.
Still, she knew that it was not unlikely he had stumbled upon the truth, while groping about; but she could form no idea, of who the suspected parties were, and she allowed her visitor to bid her good evening without gaining any further knowledge of them.
Archie was heard walking down the path and out the gate, still clearing his throat, and doubtless with his shoulders thrown to the rear so far that he was in danger of falling over backwards.
Mrs. Sheldon smiled in her quiet way after his departure, and said:
"I can't feel much faith in him, but it may be he has found who the guilty ones are."
"I don't believe it," replied Fred, stoutly; "for, when he declares that Bud had nothing to do with it, I know he is wrong. Suppose I had taken out this knife and told him all about it, what would he have said?"
"It wouldn't have changed his opinion, for he is one of those men whose opinions are set and very difficult to change. He is confident he is right, and we shall know what it all means in a short time."
"Perhaps I will find out something to-morrow."
"More than likely you will fail altogether——"
To the surprise of both, they heard the gate open and shut again, another series of hastening steps sounded upon the gravel, and in a moment a quick, nervous rap came upon the door.
"Archie has come back to tell us the rest of his story," said Fred, springing up to answer the summons; "I thought he couldn't go away without letting us know——"
But the lad was mistaken, for, when he opened the door, who should he see standing before him but Cyrus Sutton, the cattle drover, and the intimate friend of Bud Heyland?
He smiled pleasantly, doffed his hat, bowed and apologized for his intrusion, adding:
"I am sure you hardly expected me, and I only came because it was necessary that I should meet you both. Ah!"
Mrs. Sheldon had risen and advanced a couple of steps to greet her visitor, but, while the words were in her mouth she stopped short and looked wonderingly at him.
And Cyrus Sutton did the same respecting her; Fred, beholding the interesting spectacle of the two, whom he had believed to be utter strangers, staring at each other, with a fixidity of gaze, followed the next moment by an expression of looks and words which showed that this was not the first time they had met.
Fred's first emotion was that of resentment that such a worthless and evil-disposed man should presume to smile, extend his hand and say, as he advanced:
"This is a surprise, indeed! I had no idea that Mrs. Sheldon was you."
"And when I heard of Mr. Cyrus Sutton I never dreamed that it could be you," she answered.
She was about to add something more when he motioned her not to speak the words that he had reason to believe were on her tongue, and Fred knew not whether to be still angrier or more amazed.
Mr. Cyrus Sutton took the chair to which he was invited and began talking about unimportant matters which it was plain were of no interest to either and were introductory to something that was to follow.
This continued several minutes, and then Mrs. Sheldon asked her visitor to excuse her for a minute or two while she accompanied her son to bed.
"My dear boy," she said, after they were alone in his little room, and he was about to kneel to say his prayers, "you must not be displeased at what you saw to-night. I know Mr. Cyrus Sutton very well and he has called on some business which he wishes to discuss with me alone."
"But he's a thief and robber," said Fred, "and I don't like to have him in the house unless I'm awake to take care of you."
"You need have no fears about me," replied the mother, stroking back his hair and kissing the forehead of the manly fellow. "I would be willing to talk before you, but I saw that he preferred not to do so, and as the matter is all in my interest, which you know is yours, it is proper that I should show that much deference to him."
"Well, it's all right if you say so," was the hearty response of Fred, who now knelt down and went through his prayers as usual.
His mother kissed him good-night and descended the stairs, and in a few minutes the murmur of voices reached the ears of the lad, who could have crept part way down-stairs and heard everything said.
But nothing in the world would have induced him to do such a dishonorable thing, and he finally sank to slumber, with the dim words sounding to him, as they do to us in dreams.
In the morning his mother laughingly told him he would have to restrain his curiosity for a day or two, but she would tell him all as soon as Mr. Sutton gave his permission.
Fred felt all the eagerness natural to one of his years to know the meaning of the strange visit, but he was content to wait his mother's own good time, when she could make known the strange story which he realized she would soon have to tell him.
This day was Saturday, and Fred Sheldon determined to use it to the utmost, for he knew the singular incidents in which he had become involved were likely to press forward to some conclusion.
After breakfast and his morning chores, he started down the road in the direction of the village, it being his intention to pass through or rather into the wood where Sutton and Bud Heyland had held their meeting of the night before.
He had not reached the stretch of forest when he caught sight of Bud himself coming toward him on foot. The sombrero-like hat, the briar-wood pipe and the big boots, with the trousers tucked in the top, could be recognized as far as visible.
The bully had not his whip with him, both hands being shoved low down in his trousers pockets. He slouched along until close to Fred, when he stopped, and, leaning on the fence, waited for the boy to come up.
Fred would have been glad to avoid him, but there was no good way of doing so. He walked forward, whistling a tune, and made a move as if to go by, nodding his head and saying:
"Halloo, Bud."
"Hold on; don't be in a hurry," said the other, "I want to see you."
"Well, what is it?" asked Fred, stopping before him.
"You want to play the thief, do you?"
"I don't know what you mean," replied Fred, a half-dozen misgivings stirring his fears.
"How about that twenty dollars I gave you to get changed?"
"I declare I forgot all about it," replied Fred, greatly relieved that it was no worse.
"Did you get it changed?"
"Yes, and here are your ten dollars."
Bud took the bills and scanned them narrowly, and Fred started on again.
"Hold on!" commanded the other; "don't be in such a hurry; don't start ahead agin till I tell you to. Did they ask you any questions when you got it changed?"
"Nothing very particular, but changed it very gladly."
"Who was it that done it for you?"
"I told him the one who gave me the bill didn't wish me to answer any questions, and then this gentleman said it was all right, and just for the fun of the thing I mustn't tell anything about him."
Bud Heyland looked at the fellow standing a few feet away as if he hardly understood what this meant. Finally he asked, in his gruff, dictatorial way:
"Who was he?"
"I cannot tell you."
"You cannot? You've got to."
"But I can't break my promise, Bud; I wouldn't tell a story to save my life."
"Bah, that's some of your mother's stuff; I'll soon take it out of you," said the bully, advancing threateningly toward him. "If you don't tell me all about him I'll break every bone in your body."
"You can do it then, for you won't find out."
Believing that he would have to fight for his very life, as the bully could catch him before he could get away, Fred drew his knife from his pocket, intending to use it as a weapon of defense.
While in the act of opening it, Bud Heyland caught sight of it, and with an exclamation of surprise, he demanded:
"Where did you get that?"
"I found it," replied Fred, who saw how he had forgotten himself in his fear; "is it yours?"
"Let me look at it," said Bud, reaching out his hand for it. Fred hardly knew whether he ought to surrender such a weapon or not, but, as the interest of the bully seemed to center entirely in it, he thought it best to do so.
Bud Heyland examined the jack-knife with great interest. One glance was enough for him to recognize it as his own. He opened the blades and shut them two or three times, and then dropped it into his pocket with the remark:
"I'll take charge of that, I reckon."
"Is it yours?"
"I rather think it is, now," answered Bud, with an impudent grin! "Where did you find it?"
"Down yonder," answered Fred, pointing in a loose kind of way toward the old brick mansion.
"It was stole from me two weeks ago by a tramp, and it's funny that he lost it in this neighborhood. You can go now; I'll let you off this time, 'cause I'm so glad to get my old knife agin that was give to me two years ago."
And to the surprise and delight of Fred Sheldon, he was allowed to pass on without further questioning.
"I wonder whether I was wrong," said Fred, recalling the words of the bully; "he said he had it stolen from him two weeks ago by a tramp, and mother says that it isn't any proof that Bud is guilty because his knife was found there. Some one might have put it on the floor on purpose, and she says that just such things have been done before by persons who didn't want to be suspected."
"That agrees with what the constable says, too," added the boy, still following the same line of thought, "he is sure he has got the right man and it isn't Bud or Cyrus Sutton. Bud is bad enough to do anything of the kind, but maybe I was mistaken."
The lad was sorely puzzled, for matters were taking a shape which would have puzzled an older head than his. Everything he had seen and heard for the last few days confirmed his theory that Heyland and Sutton were the guilty ones, and now the theory was being upset in a singular fashion.
Fred was in this mental muddle when he awoke to the fact that he had passed the boundary of the wood and would soon be beyond the place where he had intended to make some observations that day.
"I don't know whether there's any use in my trying to do anything," he said, still bewildered over what he had seen and heard within the last few hours.
Nevertheless, he did try hard, and we may say, succeeded, too.
He first looked hastily about him, and seeing no one, turned around and ran back into the wood. He did not remain in the highway itself, but entered the undergrowth, where it would be difficult for any one in the road to detect him.
"I noticed that when I spoke about coming here this morning, mother encouraged me, and told me to be careful, and so I will."
He now began picking his way through the dense wood with the care of a veritable American Indian stealing upon the camp of an enemy.