Luck and Pluck

"I can tell better when the time comes," said John.

"You wouldn't go back with him?"

"Not if I could help myself. I don't feel that he has any right to control me. He isn't my guardian, and he is the last man, I know, that my father would be willing to trust me with."

"I wish I could see how he looks when he finds you are gone. If you'd like to send him your love I could go round by the house on my way back."

"I don't think I shall need to trouble you, David," said John.

"Whereabouts are you going?"

"I have an aunt living about fifty miles away. I shall go there for the present."

"Well, I'm sorry you're going to leave Jackson. I mean I'm sorry I shan't see you any more. Can't you write to me now and then?"

"I would but for one thing," said John.

"What's that?"

"I am afraid the letters would be noticed by the postmaster, and put Mr. Huxter on the track. I don't want to have any more to do with him."

"There's something in that. I didn't think of it. At any rate I hope we'll meet again some time."

"So do I, David. You have been very kind to me, and I shall not forget it. I don't know what lies before me, but I shall keep up good courage, hoping that things will come out right in the end."

"That's the best way. But I am afraid I must bid you good-by here. I turn up that side road. I suppose you are going straight ahead."

"Yes."

"I wish I could carry you further."

"It's been quite a help what I have already ridden."

"Whoa, Dan!" said David, and the horse stopped.

"Good-by, David," said John, as he jumped out of the wagon.

"Good-by, John. Then you haven't any message to send back to Mr. Huxter?"

"Not to him," said John; "but," he added, after a moment's thought, "if you happen to see Mrs. Huxter, just let her know that you saw me, and that I am grateful for all she tried to do for me."

"You're sure she won't tell her husband?"

"No; she acted like a good friend. I would like to have said good-by; but it wouldn't do."

"All right, I'll remember what you say. Good-by, old fellow."

"Good-by, David."

John estimated that he was now nearly ten miles from his starting-place. The sun was already shining brightly, and it promised to be a fine day. Our hero began to feel hungry. The fresh morning air had given him an appetite.

CHAPTER XXIV.

JOHN IS PURSUED

Mr. Huxter felt better after a night's rest. In fact, his injuries had not been as serious as he wished Mrs. Huxter to suppose. The truth is, he was a coward, and even a small sickness terrified him. But with the morning, finding himself very little inconvenienced by his mishap of the day previous, his courage returned, and with it his determination to wreak condign vengeance on John.

"How do you feel, Mr. Huxter?" asked his wife.

"I feel like whipping that young scamp, Oakley," said her husband.

"He has done nothing that deserves punishment, I am sure."

"Of course, scalding me is a very slight affair, in your opinion; but I happen to think differently," he said, with a sneer.

He drew on his pantaloons as he spoke, and seizing a leather strap, left the room.

"Oh, dear," sighed Mrs. Huxter, "I do wish Mr. Huxter wouldn't be so violent. I don't see what can have turned him so against that poor boy. I am sure he's very polite and gentlemanly."

She wanted to say more, in the hope of dissuading her husband from his harsh resolution, but she dared not. She went to the foot of the attic stairs to listen, fearing that she would hear the sounds of an altercation. She saw Mr. Huxter draw the bolt and enter the chamber, but she was quite unprepared to see him burst forth furiously a minute later, exclaiming in a rage:—

"He's gone,—the young rascal has escaped."

"Escaped?" repeated Mrs. Huxter, bewildered, for she could not conceive how John could escape from a third-story room when the door was bolted.

"Ha, are you there?" demanded her husband. "What do you know of this?" he asked, suspiciously.

"Nothing at all," said Mrs. Huxter. "I don't see how he could have got away."

"You'll see plain enough if you come upstairs," said her husband. "He got out of the window."

"Jumped out?" gasped Mrs. Huxter.

"Slid down by the bed-cord, you fool!" said her husband, who was too angry to be polite.

"I declare!" exclaimed Mrs. Huxter, in a tone indicating her surprise.

"Did you advise him to run away?" asked Mr. Huxter.

"Of course not."

"And did you know nothing of his going? Didn't he tell you?" he asked, suspiciously.

"Not a word. But I'm glad he's gone,—I really am."

"You're glad we've lost six dollars a week, are you?" growled her husband. "You'd like to see us starvin', I suppose. But you needn't be in such a hurry to be glad. I'll have him back yet, and then if he doesn't get the tallest kind of a flogging, that'll sicken him of running away forever, my name is not Huxter."

"You'd better let him go, husband. Don't go after him."

"You'll oblige me by minding your business, Mrs. Huxter. I shall go after him, as soon as I have eaten breakfast."

Meanwhile John, feeling very hungry, as was stated at the close of the last chapter, determined to get a breakfast at the first inn on the road. He had only to walk a mile further, when he came to a country inn, with its long piazza, and stable-yard alongside. It had a comfortable look, suggestive of good old-fashioned hospitality.

John walked through the front entrance, chancing to meet the landlord.

"Can I have some breakfast?" he asked.

"Are you travelling alone?" asked the landlord, who was a Yankee.

"Yes, sir."

"Well, I guess we can give you some. What would you like?"

"I should like some beefsteak and a couple of eggs."

"Coffee or tea?"

"Coffee."

"Very well."

"How soon will it be ready, sir? I've taken a long walk, and am very hungry."

"You won't have to wait long. Here, Betty, just get up some breakfast for this young man. Beefsteak, boiled eggs, and coffee. As quick as you can."

In twenty minutes John was told that breakfast was ready. He was shown into rather a cheerless dining-room, but the meat emitted a savory odor, and he enjoyed the meal better, it seemed to him, than ever before in his life. He rose from the table at length with a sigh of enjoyment. Going into the office he called for his bill.

"Fifty cents," said the landlord.

John produced a two-dollar bill, and the change was returned to him.

"Not going to stay with us?" said the landlord, interrogatively.

"No," said John; "I've got to travel further."

"Where may you have come from?"

"From Jackson this morning," said John.

"Did you walk? It's a pretty long stretch,—hard upon ten miles."

"I rode part of the way."

"And where are you bound?"

John was beginning to tire of this persistent questioning, and would have declined answering, but that he feared this would excite suspicion.

"I am going to Redport," he answered.

Redport, as he had ascertained, was the next town on the route. He did not think it necessary to mention that he was going considerably further.

"Redport!" repeated the landlord.

"Yes. How far is it?"

"It's a matter of six miles. Are you going to walk?"

"Yes, unless I find somebody that's going that way."

"I'm going over myself this afternoon. If you'll wait till that time you may go with me."

"Thank you," said John; "but I don't think I will wait. I've got pretty good legs, and I shan't mind the walk."

"You can get over in two hours easy. Ever been that way before?"

"No."

"Well, it's a straight road. You can't miss it."

John left the landlord's presence with a feeling of relief. He had declined his offer for two reasons: partly because he did not want to wait till afternoon, but principally because the landlord would be sure to ask where he intended to stop in Redport, which would of course embarrass him.

John waited about half an hour, as he did not wish to walk immediately after a hearty meal. Then, having cut a stick from a tree by the roadside, he went on his way.

Twenty minutes after his departure, Mr. Huxter rode up to the inn which he had just left. That gentleman had procured a fast horse from the stable, for the pursuit of the runaway. It was rather extravagant, to be sure; but then Mr. Huxter felt that he must have John back at all hazards. He could not afford to let a boy escape who paid him three hundred dollars a year, besides the work he intended to get out of him. Then again, he thought, by proper representations, he could induce his sister to pay all the expenses attending John's capture.

"It's only fair," he thought, "that Jane should pay for the team, if I give my time."

So Mr. Huxter sped along the road at a rapid rate. He had taken the right road by chance, and having met a boy who had met John and described his appearance accurately, he had the satisfaction of knowing that he was on the track of the fugitive.

Arriving at the tavern, it occurred to him that John might have stopped to rest, if nothing more. He accordingly descended hastily from the carriage, and accosted the landlord, whom he knew slightly.

"Good-morning, Mr. Jones."

"Good-morning, Mr. Huxter. Going to stop with us?"

"I can't stop now. Have you seen anything of a boy of about fifteen, rather stout built, who must have passed this way lately?"

"Blue suit?" interrogated the landlord.

"Yes; have you seen him?"

"You don't mean to say you're after him?"

"Yes, I do. But have you seen him?"

"Yes, he took breakfast here only an hour ago. Son of yours?"

"No, he was my nephew."

"Run away, hey?"

"Yes; he's been acting badly, and I suppose he thought I was going to punish him; so the young rascal took to his heels."

"Sho! you don't say so! He paid for his breakfast all right."

"You can judge how he came by his money," said Mr. Huxter.

"You don't say so! Well, he is a bad case," said the landlord, who concluded, as it was intended he should, that John had stolen the money. "Well, he don't look like it."

"Oh, he's a deep young rascal!" said Mr. Huxter. "You'd think butter wouldn't melt in his mouth; but he's a regular scamp. Which road did he take?"

"He said he was going to Redport."

"What time did he start?"

"Less than half an hour ago. He can't have got much over a mile. If you keep on, you'll be sure to overhaul him."

"I'll do that with a vengeance," said Mr. Huxter.

"Thank you for your information, Mr. Jones. I'll do as much for you some time."

"All right. Stop on the way back, won't you?"

"Well, I don't know but I will. I only took a mouthful of breakfast, I was in such a hurry to pursue this young scamp."

"Well, it's an ill wind that blows nobody good," thought the landlord. "The boy's running away has brought me two customers. I had no idea he was such a young rascal."

"I might as well get a good breakfast," soliloquized Mr. Huxter. "I can charge it to Jane. She can't expect me to chase John Oakley over hill and dale on an empty stomach!"

Mr. Huxter began to indulge in pleasing anticipations of what he would do to John when he had captured him, forgetting the good old rule, that before cooking a hare you must catch him.

CHAPTER XXV.

THE VALUE OF A BOAT

Meanwhile John was plodding along at a moderate pace. He had no idea of the danger that menaced him. He was now ten or eleven miles away from Jackson, and this gave him a feeling of security; not that the distance was so great, but that, of the many directions in which he might have gone, he saw no reason to think that Mr. Huxter would be likely to guess the right one.

On the whole, John felt in very good spirits. It was a bright, pleasant morning in September, with a clear, bracing air, that lent vigor to his steps. He decided to stop in Redport until after dinner, and then inquire his way more particularly. He determined to take the stage or cars, if he found any that ran across to Wilton. The expense would not be any greater, probably, than the cost of the meal and lodging for which, if he walked, he would be obliged to pay at the country inns.

He had got to the bottom of a hill when he heard the clattering of wheels behind him, and was startled by the sound of a voice only too familiar. "Stop, you rascal!"

John looked round, and his heart made a sudden bound when he recognized the well-known face of Mr. Huxter projecting out of a chaise, which was tearing down the hill at furious speed.

"So I've caught you, have I?" exclaimed his pursuer, in exultation. "I've got an account to settle with you, you young scamp!"

John was no coward, but he knew that in a physical contest, he, a boy of fifteen, would be no match for a man close upon six feet in height. Discretion was evidently the better part of valor. If he could not overcome his antagonist, could he elude him? He darted a quick glance around, in order to understand the situation and form his plans.

He couldn't keep on, that was evident. To the right, at the distance of a quarter of a mile, he saw a small pond gleaming in the sunlight. It might have been a mile in circumference. Behind it was a belt of woods. It occurred to John that he might find a boat somewhere along the shore. If so, he could paddle across, and Mr. Huxter would be left in the lurch. If he found no boat, his chances would be small. But at any rate this seemed his only feasible plan. Mr. Huxter was already within a few rods, so there was no time to lose. John clambered up on the stone wall.

"Stop, you rascal!" shouted Mr. Huxter, as soon as he saw this movement.

"I'd rather not," said John, coolly.

"I'll give you the worst flogging you ever had!" said his pursuer, provoked.

"That's no inducement," said John, as he jumped on the other side, and began to run across the field.

"I'll make him pay for all the trouble he gives me," said Mr. Huxter, between his teeth.

He stopped the horse, and jumped into the road. He would like to have pursued John at once, but he did not dare to leave the horse loose, fearing that he would not stand. Although chafing at the delay, he felt that prudence required him to secure the horse, which was a valuable one, before setting out after the fugitive. "The more haste the worse speed," says an old proverb. So it proved in the present instance. Five minutes were consumed in attaching the horse to the branch of a tree. This done, Mr. Huxter jumped over the stone wall, and looked to see how far John had got. Our hero had already reached the shore of the pond, and was running along beside it. Mr. Huxter's eyes lighted up with exultation.

"I'll have him yet," he muttered. "The pond is in my favor."

He began to run diagonally to the point John was likely to reach. But suddenly John stopped and bent over.

"What's he doing?" thought the pursuer puzzled.

A moment revealed the mystery. Reaching the top of a little knoll, he saw John jump into a boat, rowing vigorously from shore. He was only just in time. One minute later, and Mr. Huxter stood at the edge of the pond. He was excessively provoked at the boy's escape.

"Come back here!" he shouted, authoritatively.

"I would rather not," said John.

He rested on his oars a moment, and looked calmly at his pursuer. There he was, only three rods distant, and yet quite out of reach. Certainly it was very tantalizing. If there had only been another boat! But there was not. The one which John was in was the only one upon the pond. John felt very comfortable. He fully appreciated the advantage he had over his antagonist.

"Come back here, I say!" screamed Mr. Huxter, stamping his foot.

"Why should I?" asked John, calmly.

"Why should you? Because I'm your guardian."

"I don't think you are, Mr. Huxter."

"At any rate, you're under my charge."

"Suppose I come to the shore, what then?" asked John.

"I'll give you such a flogging that you won't dare to run away again."

"In that case," said John, smiling, "I think I'd better not come."

"You'd better come, if you know what is best for yourself."

"But I don't think a flogging would be best for me," said John, smiling again.

Mr. Huxter was excessively angry; but he saw that he was on the wrong tack. It was not easy for him to change it, for he felt too provoked; but he saw that he must do it, or give up the chance of capturing John.

"Well," he said, after a little pause, "then I'll pass over the flogging this time. But you must come to shore. I want to go home as soon as I can."

"I am not going home with you," said John, composedly.

"Why not, I should like to know?"

"I should never be happy at your house."

"You're homesick. That will pass off."

John shook his head.

"I can't go back."

"Come, Oakley," said Mr. Huxter, changing his tone; "you think I bear malice for the little accident that happened yesterday. I don't mind confessing that it made me feel ugly when I fell into that tub of hot water. You wouldn't have liked it yourself, would you?"

"No, I don't think I should," said John, smiling in spite of himself, as the image of Mr. Huxter's downfall rose before him.

"You can't blame me for feeling mad. But I know it was an accident, and I forgive you. You know it's your duty to come back."

"I don't know about that," said John.

"Your stepmother made the arrangement for your good, and it's your duty to obey her."

"Mrs. Oakley has not treated me as I had a right to expect," said John. "There was no reason for her sending me away from home."

"She thought it best for you," said Mr. Huxter, condescending to reason with the boy, who was beyond his reach.

"She took me from school, though she knew that my father wished me to remain there, and get ready for college."

"She thinks you know enough already. You know more than Ben."

"Ben doesn't care for study. He could have prepared for college if he had wished."

"Well, perhaps you're right," said Mr. Huxter, with wily diplomacy. "I didn't see it in that light before. If your father wanted you to go to college, it's all right that you should go. I'll write to my sister as soon as we get home, and tell her how you feel about it. So just come ashore, and we'll talk it over as we go home."

Mr. Huxter's words were smooth enough, but they did not correspond very well with his tone, when the conference began. John detected his insincerity, and understood very well the cause of his apparent mildness.

"I shall be glad to have you write to Mrs. Oakley," he said; "but there won't be any need of my going home with you."

"How can you find out what she writes me?" asked Mr. Huxter, subduing his wrath.

"If Mrs. Oakley is willing to have me go home and attend the academy, as I have been accustomed to do, she can let Squire Selwyn know it, and he will get word to me."

"Does he know you are running away?" demanded Mr. Huxter, frowning.

"No, he does not; but I shall tell him."

"Come, Oakley," said Mr. Huxter, persuasively, "you know this is all wrong,—your running away, I mean. I don't want you to stay at my house if you don't like it, of course, but I don't like to have it said that you ran away. Just come ashore and go home with me, and to-morrow I'll take the responsibility of sending you home to my sister. I can write her that I think she hasn't done the right thing by you. That's fair, isn't it?"

John felt that it would be fair; but unfortunately he had no faith in Mr. Huxter's sincerity. He had seen too much of him for that. He could not help thinking of the spider's gracious invitation to the fly, and he did not mean to incur the fly's fate by imitating his folly.

"I don't think it will be wise for me to go back," said John.

"I wish I could get at you," said Mr. Huxter to himself.

"My sister will be very angry when she hears of your running away," he said, aloud.

"Yes," said John, "I suppose she will."

"You must take care not to provoke her. You are dependent upon her."

"That I am not!" said John, proudly.

"Didn't your father leave her all the property?"

"So it seems," said John, wincing.

"Then how can you live without her help?"

"I am old enough to earn my own living," answered John.

"Come, Oakley, don't be foolish. What's the use of working for your living, when, by behaving right, you can have a home without?"

Mr. Huxter seemed to forget that he had intended to set John at work in his shoe-shop as soon as he could obtain a supply of work.

"I am not afraid to work," said John. "What I dislike is to be dependent. I am not dependent upon Mrs. Oakley, for the property which my father left was partly intended for my benefit, even if it was not willed to me. If Mrs. Oakley intends me to feel dependent, and breaks up all my plans, I will go to work for myself, and make my own way in the world."

"Very fine talk; but you'll repent it within a week."

"No," said John; "I have made up my mind, and I shall do as I have determined."

"Then you won't come ashore?" demanded Mr. Huxter, his tone changing.

"No, I will not," said John.

"If I ever get hold of you, I'll make you smart for this," said Mr. Huxter, now wholly throwing off the mask which for prudential motives he had worn.

"I don't mean that you shall get hold of me," said John, coolly. And with a sweep of the oars, he sent the boat further from the shore.

Mr. Huxter was beside himself with rage, but perfectly powerless to do any harm. Nothing is more ludicrous than such a spectacle. He screamed himself hoarse, uttering threats of various kinds to John, who, instead of being frightened, took it all very coolly, dipping his oars tranquilly in the water.

"There's one way of getting at you," said Huxter, suddenly picking up a good-sized stone and flinging it at the boat.

If he had been a good marksman the stone might have hit John, for the boat was within range; but it veered aside and struck the water. Admonished of a new danger, John took several rapid strokes, and was quickly free from this peril. Mr. Huxter shook his fist wrathfully at the young boatman, and was considering if there was any way of getting at him, when an unexpected mischance called his attention in another direction. Looking towards the road, he found that his horse had managed to break loose, and was now heading for home.

"Whoa!" he shouted, as he ran towards the retreating vehicle, forgetting that his voice would hardly reach a third of a mile.

Certainly this was not one of Mr. Huxter's lucky days. John was left master of the situation.

CHAPTER XXVI.

ONE DISAPPOINTMENT FOLLOWS ANOTHER

At the close of the last chapter we left John floating at his ease in a row-boat, while his pursuer was compelled, by the sudden departure of his horse, to give up his immediate purpose, and chase the flying animal. It was very much against his will that he left John; but the horse, as he knew, was the best in the stable, and valued at not less than three hundred dollars,—a sum which he would be unable to make up. Besides this, the chaise might be injured.

"Curse my luck!" exclaimed Mr. Huxter, as he glanced back at John, with a baffled look. "Every thing turns against me. But I'll come back after the young rascal as soon as I catch the horse."

But, unfortunately for Mr. Huxter, it proved that two legs were no match for four. When he got to the road, the horse was half a mile ahead. In spite of his haste, he was obliged to pause a moment and recover his breath, which the unusual exercise of running had exhausted.

Mr. Huxter was nearly two miles distant from the tavern where he had stopped. His only hope was that the horse would stop or be stopped there. As soon as he recovered his breath, he started for the tavern, therefore. Partly running, partly walking, he at length arrived, tired, heated, and in ill-humor.

Entering the yard, he saw a group of men and boys surrounding the horse and chaise, which had already arrived. Among them was Mr. Jones, the landlord.

"Why, here's the man himself!" exclaimed the landlord, advancing to meet him. "How came your horse to run away? Were you spilled out?"

"No; I tied him to a tree, and he broke loose and ran away. Has he done any harm?" asked Mr. Huxter, nervously.