Facing the World

He learned afterward that he was expected to go downstairs and wash in a large basin in the kitchen sink—wiping his face on a brown, roll towel which was used by the entire family. This was quite unsatisfactory to Harry, who was scrupulously neat in his tastes.

“This isn’t a palace exactly,” Harry said to himself.

Then came the thought, “What was he to do with his money?”

Now, it so happened that Harry was the possessor of two pocketbooks—one—shabby, and well worn, which he had failed to throw away on buying another just before he left home. In connection with this, a scheme for outwitting Mr. Fox came into his mind. He folded up a fragment of newspaper, and put it into the old pocketbook, bulging it out till it looked well filled, and this he left in the pocket of his pantaloons.

“Now to hide the other,” said he to himself.

He looked about the room seeking for some place of concealment. Finally he noticed in one portion of the floor a square board, which looked as if it might be lifted. He stooped over and succeeded in raising it. The space beneath was about a foot in depth—the lower level being the lathing and plastering of the room below.

“That will do,” said Harry, in a tone of satisfaction. “I don’t think Mr. Fox will find my money here,” and dropping the pocketbook into the cavity he replaced the square board. Then he went to bed and awaited results.

When Harry had gone up to his bed, Mr. and Mrs. Fox naturally began to compare notes respecting him.

“That new boy rides a high horse,” said Mrs. Fox, grimly. “Are you going to allow it?”

“Certainly not.”

“He wouldn’t give up his money to you, though you are his guardeen.”

“Very true, but I mean to have it all the same. I shall go up to his bedroom after he is asleep, and then it will be the easiest thing in the world to take the pocketbook without his knowin’ anything about it.”

“He’ll know it in the mornin’.”

“Let him! Possession is nine p’ints of the law, Mrs. Fox.”

“He might say you stole it.”

“He can’t do that, for I’m his guardeen, don’t you see?”

A little after ten Mr. Fox, considering that Harry must be sound asleep, decided to make him a visit. He removed his shoes, and in his stocking feet, candle in hand, began to ascend the narrow and steep staircase which led to the attic.

“Shall I go with you, John?” queried his helpmeet.

“No, I guess I can manage alone.”

His wife wanted to share in the excitement of the night visit. There was something alluring in the thought of creeping upstairs, and removing by stealth, the pocketbook of the new inmate of their home.

Left to himself, Mr. Fox pursued his way up the attic stairs. They creaked a little under his weight, and, much to his annoyance, when he reached the landing at the top he coughed.

“I hope the boy won’t hear me,” he said to himself.

He paused an instant, then softly opened the door of Harry’s chamber.

All seemed satisfactory. Our hero was lying quietly in bed, apparently in a peaceful sleep. Ordinarily he would have been fast asleep by this time, but the expectation of a visit from his guardian had kept him awake beyond his usual time. He had heard Mr. Fox cough, and so, even before the door opened, he had warning of the visit.

Harry was not a nervous boy, and had such command of himself, that, even when Mr. Fox bent over, and, by the light of the candle, examined his face, he never stirred nor winked, though he very much wanted to laugh.

“All is safe! The boy is sound asleep,” whispered Mr. Fox to himself.

He set the candle on the floor, and then taking up Harry’s pantaloons, thrust his hand into the pocket.

The very first pocket contained the pocketbook which our hero had put there. Mr. Fox would have opened and examined the contents on the spot, but he heard a cough from the bed, and, quickly put the pocketbook into his own pocket, apprehending that his ward might wake up, and taking up the candle, noiselessly withdrew from the chamber.

After he had fairly gone, Harry had a quiet laugh to himself.

Mr. Fox returned in triumph to his own chamber, where his wife was anxiously waiting for him.

“Have you got it, Mr. F.,” she asked, eagerly.

“Got it? Why shouldn’t I get it?”

“Well, open it, and let us see what it contains.”

This Mr. Fox proceeded to do. But no sooner did his glance rest on its contents than his lower jaw fell, and his eyes opened wide in perplexity.

“Well, what are you staring at like a fool?” demanded his wife, who was not so situated that she could see the contents of the pocketbook.

“Look at this, Mrs. F.,” said her husband, in a hollow voice. “There’s no money here—only this piece of newspaper.”

“Well, well, of all the fools I ever saw you are about the most stupid!” ejaculated Mrs. Fox. “What you undertake you generally carry through, do you? After all the fuss you’ve brought down a pocketbook stuffed with waste paper.”

“I don’t understand it,” said Fox, his face assuming a look of perplexity. “Surely the boy told the truth when he said he had fifteen dollars.”

“Of course! Joel saw the money—a roll of bills, and saw him take them out of his pocketbook. He must have taken them out. Did you search all his pockets?”

“No; when I found the pocketbook I thought I was all right.”

“Just like a man!” retorted Mrs. Fox. “I’ll go up myself, and see if I can’t manage better than you.”

“Then you’d better take this wallet, and put it back in his pocket.”

“Give it to me, then.”

With a firm step Mrs. Fox took the candle, and took her turn in going up the attic stairs.

CHAPTER IV

MRS. FOX COMES TO GRIEF

Harry confidently anticipated a second visit to his chamber.

He was rather surprised when the door was again opened, and Mrs. Fox entered. Opening his eyes a little way, he saw her, after a brief glance at the bed, go to the chair containing his pantaloons, and put back the deceptive wallet. She was about to prosecute a further search, when Harry decided that matters had gone far enough. He did not fancy their night visits, and meant to stop them if he could.

Chance favored his design. A puff of air from the door, which Mrs. Fox had left wide open, extinguished the candle, and left the room, as there was no moon, in profound darkness.

“Drat the candle!” he heard Mrs. Fox say.

Then a mischievous idea came to Harry. In his native village lived a man who had passed a considerable time in the wild region beyond the Missouri River, and had mingled familiarly with the Indians. From him Harry had learned how to imitate the Indian warwhoop.

“I’ll scare the old lady,” thought Harry, smiling to himself.

Immediately there rang out from the bed, in the darkness and silence, a terrific warwhoop, given in Harry’s most effective style.

Mrs. Fox was not a nervous woman ordinarily, but she was undeniably frightened at the unexpected sound.

“Heavens and earth, what’s that?” she ejaculated, and dropping our hero’s clothes, retreated in disorder, almost stumbling downstairs in her precipitate flight. Dashing into the chamber where Mr. Fox was waiting for her, she sank into a chair, gasping for breath.

“Good gracious, Maria, what’s the matter?” exclaimed her husband, gazing at her in astonishment.

“I—don’t—know,” she gasped.

“You look as if you had seen a ghost.”

“I haven’t seen anything,” said his wife, recovering her breath, “but I’ve heard something terrible. It’s my belief the attic is haunted. I went upstairs and put back the wallet, and was looking to see if I could find another, when all at once the candle went out, and a terrible noise shook the chamber.”

“What was it like, Mrs. F.?”

“I can’t tell you. I never heard anything like it before. All I know is, I wouldn’t go up there again tonight for anything.”

“Did the boy sleep through it all?”

“How can I tell? The candle was out.”

“Perhaps he blew it out.”

“Perhaps you’re a fool Mr. Fox. It wasn’t near the bed, and he was fast asleep, for I looked at him. It made me think of—of Peter,” and Mrs. Fox shuddered.

Peter had been taken from the poorhouse three years ago by Mr. Fox, and apprenticed to him by the town authorities. According to popular report he had been cruelly treated and insufficiently fed, until he was taken sick and had died in the very bedroom where Mrs. Fox had been so frightened. This may explain how it was that a woman so strong-minded had had her nerves so easily upset.

“We won’t talk of Peter,” said Mr. Fox, shortly, for to him, also, the subject was an unpleasant one. “I suppose you didn’t find another wallet?”

“No, I didn’t. You can order the boy to give it up to-morrow. The best thing to do now is to go to bed and rest.”

The breakfast hour at the house of Mr. Fox was half past six. Harry was called at six, and was punctual at the table. Mr. Fox cast a suspicious glance at his ward, but the boy looked so perfectly unconcerned, that he acquitted him of any knowledge of the night visit.

“How did you sleep, Harry?” asked Mrs. Fox.

“Soundly, thank you,” answered Harry, politely.

“You didn’t hear any—strange noises, then?”

“No.”

“Now, Harry,” said Mr. Fox, after breakfast, “we may as well speak of our future arrangements. I have considerable to do on my twenty acres of land, and I can give you work here.”

“What compensation do you offer, sir?”

“As a boarder I should have to charge you five dollars a week for your board, and fifty cents extra for your washing—that would go to Mrs. Fox; as well as pay twenty-five cents a week for your mending. That also would go to my wife. Now, if you work for me, I will take off three dollars, making the charge to you only two dollars and seventy-five cents per week.”

“Don’t you think, Mr. Fox, that is rather low pay for my services?”

“I might say two dollars and a quarter,” said Mr. Fox, deliberating.

Harry smiled to himself. He had not the slightest idea of working for any such trifle, but he did not care to announce his determination yet.

“I will pay full price for a week, Mr. Fox,” he said, “and during that time I will consider your offer.”

“I may not offer you as favorable terms a week from now,” said Fox, who wanted to get his ward to work at once.

“I will take my chance of it, sir. I prefer to have a few days of freedom.”

“By the way, Harry, don’t you think you had better give me your money to keep? You might lose it.”

“You are very kind, Mr. Fox; but I am not afraid of losing it.”

After breakfast Harry went to walk. His steps naturally tended to the place where he had left the greater part of his treasure. It was possible that he had been seen hiding it, and he thought on the whole it would be better to find another place of concealment.

“Joel,” said his mother, “follow Harry, and see where he goes. He may be goin’ to hide his money. But don’t let him see you.”

“All right, mam; I’ll do it. I wish I had followed him yesterday.”

A position as detective would have suited Joel. Whatever was secret or stealthy had a charm for him.

In the present instance he managed to shadow Harry very successfully. The task was made easier, because our hero had no idea that anyone was following him.

“So he’s goin’ to the railroad,” said Joel, to himself

Arrived at the railroad track, Harry’s course diverged to the hillock, at the top of which he had concealed his treasure.

Joel posted himself at a point where he had a good view of the elevation, and could see what Harry was doing. He saw our hero digging at a particular spot, and concluded that he was going to hide the fifteen dollars there. What was his surprise and delight when he saw him dig up and expose to view a large roll of bills.

“Oh, cracky!” ejaculated Joel, “there must be a hundred dollars in that roll of bills. Wouldn’t dad open his eyes if he saw it?”

Unconscious of observation, Harry held the money in his hand and deliberated. Then he put it in his pocket, resolved to think over at his leisure its ultimate place of deposit.

Now, unfortunately for Joel, just at this moment he slipped from his perch on the branch of a small tree, and for about half a minute what Harry did was concealed from him. He clambered into the tree again, but only to see Harry filling up the hole again.

He didn’t want Harry to catch sight of him when he descended from the hill, and accordingly scuttled away sufficiently far to escape suspicion, yet not too far to entirely lose sight of Harry’s movements.

Five minutes later Harry descended from the hill, and bent his steps toward that part of the railway where the accident had occurred. Joel, who had hastened away in a different direction, went back to the hill as soon as he thought it would be safe, and eagerly ascended it. He found without difficulty the spot where Harry had been digging. With the help of a fragment of wood which he had picked up below, he in turn began to dig—his eyes glistening with expectation and cupidity.

He kept digging, but gradually became anxious, as the expected treasure did not show itself.

“I’m sure I have dug deep enough,” he said to himself.

“He must have took the money when I fell from the tree,” thought Joel, crestfallen. “He’s served me a mean trick. Won’t I tell dad, though, and get him into trouble? Oh, no!”

Meanwhile Harry, not knowing how narrowly he had escaped being robbed, pursued his way to the railway.

“If I were only in my old home,” he thought, “I would ask Mr. Howard to take care of it for me. Then I should know it was all right.”

He thought of the president of the railroad, to whom he was principally indebted for the money.

“If I could only see him,” he thought, “I would ask him to take care of it for me.”

What was his surprise, when, on reaching the depot, the first person on whom his eyes fell was the very gentleman of whom he was thinking.

“How do you do, sir?” said Harry, politely.

“Ah, my young friend that saved the train!” said the president cordially. “I hope you haven’t spent the money you received on riotous living.”

“No. Will you take care of it for me? I don’t want to spend it, and I am afraid of losing it.”

“Well, my boy, if you really desire it, I will take the money.”

“I shall regard it as a very great favor.”

No sooner said than done. They went into the depot and Harry, counting out two hundred and fifty dollars, passed it over to the president.

He made out a brief receipt, signing it, “Thomas Conway, President of the Craven County Railroad,” and Harry pocketed it with a feeling of relief.

While he was standing in front of the depot waiting for the arrival of the eight-thirty train, Joel came up.

“Goin’ a-travelin’?” asked Joel, with a grin.

“Not this morning.”

“I wish I had a hundred dollars!” continued Joel, surveying Harry sharply. “I’d make a journey out West. Say, Harry, did you ever have a hundred dollars in your pocket?”

“Yes.”

“Maybe you’ve got it now?”

“Where should I get it?” demanded Harry.

“I do’no. Jest empty your pockets, and le’me see how much you’ve got.”

“Thank you; I don’t see any use in it,” said Harry.

“You dassent!”

“Very well! Call it that.”

“Joel’s been spying on me. He must have seen me on the hill,” concluded Harry. “It’s well I gave most of my money to Mr. Conway.”

CHAPTER V

MR. FOX LEARNS HARRY’S SECRET

Harry had acted none too soon. It happened that his secret had been discovered not only by Joel, but by Joel’s father, that very morning.

About ten o’clock Mr. Fox had occasion to go to the village. In the post office he met an acquaintance from a neighboring town, with whom he passed the usual compliments.

“By the way, Fox,” said his friend, “I had a narrow escape the other day.”

“What was it, Pearson?”

“Came near being smashed up on the railroad. There would have been an end to us, but for a brave boy, who signaled the train in time.”

“That boy was my ward,” said John Fox, complacently.

“You don’t say so! Well, he was a lucky chap.”

“I don’t think so. He didn’t get much for his bravery.”

“I don’t see how you can say that. How much money did he get?”

“Twenty-five dollars, and of that he gave ten to the woman whose tablecloth he borrowed.”

“There’s some mistake about that. There must have been forty or fifty bills put into his hands.”

“Is this true?” ejaculated Fox, in amazement.

“Just as true as I’m standing here. If there wasn’t two or three hundred dollars I’ll eat my head.”

“The artful young rascal!” exclaimed Fox, in virtuous indignation.

“Perhaps he thought you would take it from him. The boy was smart,” said Pearson, laughing.

“You call it smart! I call it base and treacherous!”

Mr. Fox walked thoughtfully away. He was considering how he should get hold of his ward’s money. It was not a question easy to answer. Evidently Harry was a boy who kept his own counsel, and knew how to take care of himself.

“Joel seems to have a great partiality for my society,” thought Harry, when, after dinner, his guardian’s son continued to follow him about.

Our hero would have been quite willing to dispense with Joel’s companionship, but, being good-natured, he did not feel like dismissing him, as he would have done had he suspected that the boy was acting as a spy upon him, at his father’s request.

Mr. Fox said very little to his ward at the table, but Harry felt that he was eyeing him intently.

After supper Harry was about to leave the room when Mr. Fox stopped him.

“Wait a moment, young man,” he said, in a commanding tone.

“Very well, sir,” returned Harry, quietly.

“How much money did the passengers give you?”

“Almost three hundred dollars,” answered Harry, composedly.

“Did you ever hear the like?” exclaimed Mrs. Fox, in amazement. “If it had only been Joel.”

“Thunder!” exclaimed that young gentleman. “Well, you was lucky. No such luck for me!”

“It is well you have told me,” said John Fox; “not but I knew before. I met one of the passengers to-day, and he gave me an idea how much it was. You will please hand it over to me, and I will take care of it.”

“I shall not be able to comply with your request, Mr. Fox,” said Harry. “I have not the money with me.”

“I don’t believe it. You had it this morning. And Joel has been with you ever since; so you haven’t had time to hide it.”

“So that was the reason you favored me with your company, Joel,” said Harry, with a glance at his guardian’s son.

“All you’ve got to do is to hand over that money now, Harry Vane. Mind, I intend to have it.”

“I assure you, Mr. Fox, that I haven’t the money with me.”

“Where is it, then?” asked Mr. Fox, incredulous.

“I have put it into the hands of a gentleman in whom I have confidence, who will take care of it for me.”

“What’s the man’s name?” demanded John Fox.

“That is my secret.”

“You have rebelled against my lawful authority. Maria, what is it my duty to do with this boy?”

“Lock him up!” answered Mrs. Fox, grimly.

“A good suggestion, Mrs. F. Imprisonment may change the boy’s ideas. He may repent his base conduct.”

“Now, young man,” said Fox, in a tone of authority, “go up to your chamber, and stay there till you’re ready to obey orders.”

Harry hesitated a moment, then quietly went upstairs. Mr. Fox was relieved, for he was a little apprehensive that his ward would prove rebellious and decline to obey.

John Fox stole up after his ward, and Harry heard the door bolted on the outside.

He was a prisoner.

When he heard the bolt slide in the lock, he said to himself: “Mr. Fox and I can never agree. He has not yet been appointed my guardian, and he never will receive the appointment. I have the right to choose for myself, as Mr. Howard told me, and I mean to exercise it.”

Some of my readers may, perhaps, picture Harry as forcing open the door of his chamber and rushing from the house, breathing loud defiance as he went. But he was a sensible boy, and meditated nothing of the kind.

“I can wait till morning,” he reflected. “I don’t think I shall be here twenty hours hence, but I mean to get a good night’s sleep. It will be time enough to decide in the morning what I will do.”

So, in spite of his imprisonment, Harry enjoyed a comfortable night’s sleep, and was awakened in the morning by hearing his door opened.

Mr. Fox entered, and sat down on a chair by the bed.

“Good-morning, sir,” said Harry, composedly.

“What I want to know is, have you made up your mind to do as I told you last night?”

“I prefer to keep it in my possession.”

“I guess I’ll have to keep you here a little longer.”

“Then be kind enough to send me up some breakfast. I am paying my board. I shall object to paying unless I get my meals regularly.”

This consideration weighed with John Fox, and he sent Joel up with a cup of coffee and some dry bread, five minutes later.

“By the way, Joel, come up here about the middle of the forenoon; I want to say a few words to you in private.”

“All right, I’ll come. I must go downstairs now.”

“I wonder what he wants to see me about?” said Joel, to himself.

Joel made a pretty shrewd guess, and resolved, by all means, to keep the appointment.

He was anxious to get his father out of the way, but John Fox was unusually deliberate in his motions. Finally, about half-past nine, he left the house for the village.

Presently his mother said: “Joel, if you’ll stay and mind the house, I’ll run over to Mrs. Bean’s and borrow some sugar.”

His mother put on her bonnet, and started across a field to her nearest neighbor’s.

“Now’s my time,” thought Joel. “Mam’s sure to get talkin’ with Mrs. Bean and stay half an hour or more.”

He ran up the garret stairs, and drew the bolt that held Harry captive.

“Joel, I want you to let me out of this place.”

“Oh, gracious!” exclaimed Joel, in apparent dismay. “Dad would give me the wu’st kind of a lickin’.”

“Would he know how I got out?” asked Harry.

“I don’t know. What are you willing to give?”

Harry saw that it was merely a matter of bargaining, and finally prevailed upon Joel to release him for a five-dollar bill.

“I want the money now,” said Joel.

“How do I know that you will do as you have agreed?”

“Give me the money, and I’ll tell you.”

Harry passed over the bank bill, and Joel said:

“Dad’s gone to the village, and mam’s gone over to Mrs. Bean’s. All you’ve got to do is to go downstairs, and walk out.”

Harry was by no means slow to take the hint.

“Good-by, Joel,” he said, extending his hand; “I won’t forget the favor you’ve done me.”

“I don’t know what dad’ll say. There’ll be an awful fuss. Just give me a box on the ear, won’t you?”

“What for?”

“I’ll tell dad you gave me an awful clip on the side of the head, and ran off, though I tried to stop you.”

“All right,” said Harry, laughing.

He gave Joel the required box on the ear, tripped him up, laying him gently on his back on the landing, and then, with a friendly “good-by,” he ran down the stairs, and before Mrs. Fox returned from her call was a mile away.

She found Joel wiping his eyes.

“What’s the matter, Joel?” she asked.

“That boy, Harry, called me upstairs, and got me to open the door. Then he gave me an almighty clip on the side of my head that almost stunned me, then he knocked me over, and ran out of the house as fast as he could run—my head aches awful!”

“The owdacious young ruffian!” ejaculated Mrs. Fox. “To beat my poor, dear Joel so! Never mind. Joel, dear, I’ll give you a piece of pie and some cake. As for that boy, he’ll be hung some day, I reckon!”

After eating the cake and pie, which were luxuries in that frugal household, Joel said he felt better. He went out behind the house, and taking out the five-dollar note, surveyed it with great satisfaction.

CHAPTER VI

AN EXCITING CHASE

When John Fox went to the village he usually stopped first at the tavern, and invested ten cents in a glass of whisky. Here he met two or three of his cronies.

“Folks say you’ve got a new boarder, Fox,” said Bill Latimer, as he laid down his glass on the counter.

“Yes,” answered Fox, complacently. “I’m his guardeen.”