CHAPTER XVII.
CONCLUSION.
Bob and his companion were so utterly disheartened, and so nearlyovercome with the cold, that they no longer looked upon exposure asthe worst thing that could happen to them. They had made up theirminds that it could not be avoided, and told themselves that thesooner it was over and they were allowed to leave their airy perchthe sooner they would breathe easily again. They could not talk now.They could only sit and gaze in the direction in which the hostlerhad disappeared, and wait for somebody to come and call off the dogs.Bob hoped _that_ somebody would be Bert. He was a simple-mindedlittle fellow, and might be persuaded to believe the story that Bobhad told the hostler. But Bert did not come to their relief; it washis father. When Bob saw him he wished most heartily that the roofwould open and let him down out of sight.
"Why, boys, what is the meaning of this?" asked the General, as soonas he came within speaking distance.
"It means that we have been up here since midnight and are nearlyfrozen," replied Bob, trying to smile and looking as innocent as aguilty boy could. "We were out 'coon-hunting in the river bottoms andcame through your fields, because that was the nearest way home; butthe dogs saw us and drove us up here."
The General had but to use his eyes to find all the evidence heneeded to prove this story false. The meal bags, in which the boysexpected to carry away the stolen quails, were lying on the groundin plain sight, one of them having fallen in such a position thatthe owner's name, which was painted on it in large black letters,was plainly visible. More than that, under one of the planks whichprotected the window, was the iron lever with which Bob had tried toforce an entrance into the cabin. He left it sticking there when hefell off Lester's shoulders.
"Well, you may come down now," said the General. "The hounds will nottrouble you."
It was easy enough to say come down, but it was not so easy to do it,as the boys found when they began working their way over the frostyroof. The shingles were as slippery as glass, and their hands seemedto have lost all their strength; but they reached the ground withoutany mishap, and were about to hurry away as fast as their crampedlegs would carry them, when the General asked:
"Hadn't you better go up to the house and get warm?"
"O, no, thank you, sir," replied Bob. "We'll go directly home. Ourfolks will wonder what has become of us."
"Are these your bags?"
"No, sir," replied Bob, promptly. "One doesn't usually carry mealbags to bring home 'coons in."
"I am aware of that fact," said the General, "but couldn't they beused to carry quails in? These bags have you father's name on them,and you had better come and get them."
These words were uttered in a tone of command, and Bob thought itbest to obey. He snatched up the bags, and with Lester by his sidemade his way down the lane with all possible haste. When they weresafe in the road, Bob drew a long breath and remarked:
"That's the end of that scrape."
"I don't see it," returned Lester. "It is only the beginning of it.Everybody in the settlement will know it before night."
"Who cares if they do?" cried Bob, who began to feel like himself,now that he was on solid ground once more. "They can't prove thatwe went there to steal the quails, and we'll not confess it."
"No, sir," replied Lester, emphatically. "You're a sharp one, Bob, tomake up such a plausible story on the spur of the moment, but I knowthe General did not believe a word of it."
"So do I, but what's the odds? Let's see him prove that I didn't tellhim the truth. Now the next thing is something else; we must make upa story to tell my folks when we get home."
"Can't we run back to the house and go to bed before any of thefamily are up?"
"I am afraid to try it. A better plan would be to go back in thewoods and build a fire and get warm. Then we'll go home, and ifanybody asks us where we have been, we'll say we couldn't sleep,and so we got up and went 'coon-hunting."
"I wish we had one or two 'coons to back up the story," said Lester.
"O, that wouldn't help us any. People often go hunting and returnempty-handed, you know."
Leaving Bob and his friend to get out of their difficulties as bestthey can, we will go back to Godfrey's cabin and see what the twoboys who live there are doing. The day of rest, which Don said wouldwork such wonders in David, did not seem to be of much benefit to himafter all. He had been somewhat encouraged by Bert's cheering wordsand the knowledge that influential friends were working for him, and,like Bob Owens, he had indulged in some rosy dreams of the future;but that short interview with the young horsemen who met him in theroad below the General's house, reminded him that he had activeenemies, who would not hesitate to injure him by every means in theirpower. He thought about his father all day, and wondered if therewas anything he could do that would bring him back home where hebelonged, and make a respectable man of him. He had ample leisure toturn this problem over in his mind, for he was alone the most of theday. As soon as he reached the cabin, Dan, who acted as if he did notwant to be in his brother's company, shouldered his rifle and wentoff by himself; and it was while he was roaming through the woodsthat he made a discovery which did much to bring about some of theevents we have already described.
Dan felt so mean and sneaking that he did not want to see anybody, ifhe could help it; and when he accidentally encountered Bob Owens andLester Brigham in the woods, he darted into the bushes and concealedhimself. He watched them while they were watching Don and Bert,and when he saw them hitch their horses and creep along the fencein pursuit of the wagon, he suddenly recalled some scraps of aconversation he had overheard a few days before. He knew that Lesterwas working against David, and believing from his stealthy movementsand Bob's that there was mischief afoot, he followed them with thedetermination of putting in a word, and perhaps a blow, if he foundthat David's interests were in jeopardy. He saw every move the twoboys made. He was lying in the bushes not more than fifty yards fromthem, while they were watching Don and Bert put the captured quailsinto the cabin, and when they went back to the place where they hadleft their horses, they passed so close to him that he caught some oftheir conversation. When they were out of sight and hearing Dan aroseand sat down on the nearest log to make up his mind what he was goingto do about it.
"I'll bet a hoss you don't steal them quail nor set fire to thecabin, nuther," said he, to himself. "Thar's a heap of birds inthar--seems to me that they had oughter ketched 'most as many as theywant by this time--an' they shan't be pestered; kase if they be,what'll become of my shar' of them hundred an' fifty dollars? It'llbe up a holler stump, whar I thought it had gone long ago!"
Dan knew that if Lester and his friend had any designs upon the cabinand the quails that were in it, they would not attempt to carry themout before night; but the fear that something might happen if he wenthome again troubled him greatly, and he resolved that he would notlose sight of the cabin for a few hours at least. He did not knowwhat he would do to Lester and Bob if he caught them in the act oftrying to steal the quails; that was a point on which he could notmake up his mind until something happened to suggest an idea to him.While he was sitting in his place of concealment, thinking busily, heheard a rustling in the bushes and looked up to see one of Don'shounds approaching.
In the days gone by, before Dan became such a rascal as he was now,he had often accompanied Don and Bert on their 'coon and 'possumhunting expeditions, and the old dogs in the pack were almost as wellacquainted with him as they were with their master. Bose recognisedhim at once, and appeared to be glad to see him.
"I want you to stay here with me till it comes dark, ole feller,"said Dan, patting the animal's head. (He never kicked the hounds, ashe did the pointer. He knew better.) "If them fellers comes we'llmake things lively fur 'em. You hear me?"
Dan waited almost twelve hours before he had an opportunity to carryout the plan he had so suddenly formed. When he became tired ofsitting still and began to feel the cravings of appetite, he wentinto the woods and shot four sq
uirrels which Bose treed for him.These he roasted over a fire and divided with his four-footed friend.When it began to grow dark he went back to his hiding-place, where heremained until he thought it time to take up a new position. This wasby the side of the road, and a short distance from the big gate,which opened into the lane leading to the negro quarters. There Danlay for almost four hours, stretched out behind a log, with the houndby his side. He saw several negroes pass in and out of the gate, and,although some of them walked by within ten feet of him, no one sawhim, and the well-trained hound never betrayed his presence by somuch as a whimper.
Finally, to Dan's great relief, the lights in the General's housewere put out, then a door or two was slammed loudly in the quarters,and after that all was still. Dan had grown tired of watching andmust have fallen asleep, for he knew nothing more until a low growlfrom the hound aroused him. He was wide awake in an instant, andhaving quieted the animal by placing his hand on his neck, he lookedall around to see what it was that had disturbed him. He heardfootsteps in the field on the opposite side of the road, andpresently two figures appeared and clambered over the fence. Theycrossed to the gate, which they opened and closed very carefully andwent down the lane.
"Them's our fellers, Bose," whispered Dan, who was highly excited."They've got bags slung over their shoulders, an' they think they'regoin' to play smash stealin' them birds of our'n; but me and you willsee how many they'll get, won't we?"
As soon as Bob and Lester were out of hearing Dan arose, and holdingthe hound firmly by the neck with one hand he opened the gate withthe other, and moved noiselessly down the lane toward the quarters.His plan was to make sure that Bob and his friend had come there toforce an entrance into the cabin in which the quails were confined,and if he found that that was their object, he would make a pretenceof setting Bose upon them. He did not intend to do so in reality, forhe knew the dog too well. The animal always did serious work whenhe began to use his teeth, and Dan didn't want either of the youngthieves killed or maimed. He knew that if he could excite the houndand induce him to give tongue, the rest of the pack would be on theground in two minutes' time; and as they were all young dogs (Carlowas shut up in the barn every night to do guard duty there), theywould not be likely to take hold of the boys, if left to themselves.They would not permit them to escape, either. They would surroundthem and keep them there until morning, and that was what Dan wanted.He could not afford to watch the cabin every night, and he thought itwould be a good plan to give Bob and his friend a lesson they wouldnot forget.
That the prowlers had come there to force an entrance into the cabin,was quickly made plain to even Dan's dull comprehension. He saw themtry the door, and then go around to the other side of the buildingand attempt to pry off the planks that covered the window. Dan heardsomething crack as Bob laid out his strength on the lever he wasusing, and believing that the thieves were on the point ofaccomplishing their object, he uttered a loud whistle to let the restof the pack know that they were wanted, and shouted:
"Here they be! Take 'em, fellers! Take 'em down!"
Bose, who had been growing more and more impatient every moment, wasquite ready to obey. Uttering a loud yelp, which was almostimmediately answered by the rest of the pack, he raised himself uponhis hind legs, and struggled so furiously to escape that Dan wasobliged to drop his rifle and seize him with both hands. But when thebrute was thoroughly aroused, it was hard to restrain him. The thick,loose skin on the back of his neck did not afford Dan a very goodhold, and almost before he knew it, Bose slipped from his grasp, andbounded toward the cabin. At the same instant, a chorus of loud bayssounding close at hand announced that the rest of the pack werecoming at the top of their speed. Bob and Lester had never beforebeen in so much danger as they were at that moment.
Dan, who began to fear that the plan he had adopted for protectingthe quails was about to result in a terrible tragedy, was very badlyfrightened. He stood for a few seconds as if he had been deprived ofall power of action, and then caught up his rifle and took to hisheels. He ran as if the pack were after him instead of Bob andLester, and never slackened his pace until he was out of hearing oftheir angry voices. He crept home like a thief and got into bedwithout arousing either David or his mother. But he could not sleep.He was haunted by the fear that something dreadful had happened downthere in the quarters, and that there would be a great uproar in thesettlement the next morning. He felt that he could never be himselfagain until he knew the worst, so a little while before daylight heput on his clothes, slipped quietly out of the cabin and bent hissteps toward the big gate near which he had been concealed the nightbefore. By the time he reached it there, was light enough for him todistinguish objects at a considerable distance, and we can imaginehow greatly relieved he was when he discovered Bob and Lester perchedupon the ridge pole of the cabin. At first, he thought his eyes weredeceiving him, but a second look told him that there was no mistakeabout it. He would have been glad to know if either of them had beeninjured by the hounds before they got there, but that was somethinghe could not find out just then. They had not been torn in pieces, ashe feared, and that was a great comfort to him.
"They never had a closer shave, that thar is sartin," thought Dan, ashe turned about and trudged toward home. "I wonder what pap would sayif he knowed what a smart trick I played onto 'em! I wish I could goan' tell him, but I am a'most afeared, kase he must be jest a bilin'over with madness. He's lost the pinter--I reckon Dave must havestole him, kase I don't see how else he could have got him--an' Idon't keer to go nigh him ag'in, till I kin kinder quiet his feelin'sby tellin' him some good news 'bout them hundred an' fifty dollars."
The events of this night were the last of any interest thattranspired in the settlement for more than two weeks. Affairs seemedto take a turn for the better now, and the boy trapper and his twofriends were left to carry out their plans without any opposition.Bob and Lester kept out of sight altogether; but they need not havebeen so careful to do that, for the General was the only one who wasthe wiser for what they had done, and he never said a word about itto anybody. They could not even muster up energy enough to go out ofnights to rob David's traps; and perhaps it was just as well thatthey did not attempt it, for they might have run against Dan Evans inthe dark. The latter spent very little time at home now. He wassometimes absent for two days and nights, and David and his motherdid not know what to make of it. He had built a camp near the fieldin which the traps were set, and there he lived by himself,subsisting upon the squirrels and wild turkeys that fell to hisrifle.
Things went on smoothly for a week, and during this time David andhis friends were as busy as they could be. Quails were more abundantthan they had ever known them to be before. They seemed to flock intothe General's fields on purpose to be caught, and before many dayshad passed, it became necessary to fit up another cabin for thereception of the prisoners. In the meantime the General's timber andnails were used up rapidly. The boys had the hardest part of theirwork to do now, and that was to build a sufficient number of coops tohold all the birds. Silas Jones said that the Emma Deane was expecteddown every day, and Don declared that the birds must be shipped onher when she came back from New Orleans, if it took every man andwoman on the plantation to get them ready. She came at last, and Donwas at the landing to meet her. He held a short interview with hercaptain and Silas Jones, who was freight agent as well as expressagent and post-master, and when it was ended he jumped on his ponyand rode homeward as if his life depended upon the speed he made.When he arrived within sight of the field where the traps were set,he saw his brother and David coming in with another wagon load ofbirds.
"How many this morning?" asked Don.
"We have enough now to make fifty-five dozen altogether," repliedBert.
"Hurrah for our side!" cried Don. "We'll ship them all. Some may dieon the way, you know, and that man must have the number he advertisedfor. Captain Morgan will stop and get the birds when he comes back.He will see them shipped on the railroad at Cairo, and a
ll we have todo is to be sure that the game is at the landing in time."
"Did he say how much it would cost to send them off?" asked David.
"No. He will put in his bill when he comes down again. He carriesfreight by the hundred, you know. He will pay the railroad charges,too, and add that to his own bill."
"But what shall I do if both bills amount to more than ten dollars?"asked David, with some anxiety.
Don did not seem to hear the question, for he paid no attention toit. The truth was he had arranged matters so that David would not berequired to use any of his ten dollars. Silas Jones was to foot allthe bills and pay himself out of David's money when it was forwardedto him by the agent at S----, the place where the quails were going.But Don couldn't stop to explain this just now. He told his brotherand David to make haste and put the quails into the cabin; and whenthat was done and they came into the shop, he set them at work on thecoops. There was much yet to be done, but they had ample time to doit in, with more than a day to spare. When the next Wednesday nightarrived fifty-five dozen quails, boxed and marked ready for shipment,were at the landing, waiting to begin the journey to their new homein the North, and Don carried in his pocket a letter addressed to theadvertiser, which Captain Morgan was to mail at Cairo.
The boys camped at the landing that night to keep guard over theirproperty. They pitched a little tent on the bank, built a roaringfire in front of it, and in company with Fred and Joe Packard, whocame down to stay with them, passed the hours very pleasantly. TheEmma Deane came up the next afternoon, and when the freight had beencarried aboard and she backed out into the stream again, David drewa long breath, expressive of the deepest satisfaction. His task wasdone, and he hoped in a few days more to reap the reward of hislabor.
The boys felt like resting now. They had worked long and faithfully,and they were all relieved to know that their time was their own. Donand Bert paid daily visits to their bear trap, hunted wild turkeysand drove the ridges for deer, while David stayed at home and madehimself useful there, until he began to think it time to hear fromsomebody, and then he took to hanging about the post-office aspersistently as ever his father had done. Finally, his anxiety wasrelieved by the arrival of the first letter that had ever beenaddressed to himself. He tore it open with eager hands, and readthat the quails had been received in good order, and that the money,amounting to one hundred and ninety-two dollars and fifty cents, hadbeen paid over to the agent from whom they were received. David couldhardly believe it. The man had paid him for the extra five dozenbirds; he was to receive forty-two dollars more than he expected;and there had been no freight charges deducted. David could notunderstand that, and there was no one of whom he could ask anexplanation, for Don and Bert had gone over to Coldwater thatmorning, and were not to be back for a week. He had a long talk withhis mother about it that night, and when he went to bed never closedhis eyes in slumber. Every succeeding day found him at the landingwaiting for his money, and so little did he know about business thathe could not imagine who was to give it to him.
At last the Emma Deane came down again. David stood around with therest and watched her while she was putting off her freight, andhaving seen her back out into the stream, was about to start forhome, when Silas Jones came up and tapped him on the shoulder.
"Don't go away," said he. "I want to see you." David waited an hourbefore Silas was ready to tell him what he wanted of him. By thattime the most of the hangers-on had dispersed; and when the lastcustomer finished his trading, Silas stepped behind his desk andopened his safe.
"There it is," said he, slapping a package of greenbacks on the deskand then holding it up to David's view. "How do you like the looks ofit?"
David's eyes opened to their widest extent. He had never seen solarge a package of money before. He looked hastily about the store tosee if Dan was anywhere in sight, and was greatly relieved to findthat he was not. There were three, or four men standing by, and theyappeared to be enjoying David's astonishment.
"Is--is it mine, Mr. Jones?" he managed to ask.
"Some of it is, and some of it is mine. There are a hundred andninety-two dollars and a half here, and twenty-eight of it belongs tome. Freight bills, you know. The coops you put those birds in were asheavy as lead. If you had put less timber in them your expenses wouldnot have been so heavy."
"Don thought it best to have them strong, so that they would not bebroken in handling," said David.
"That was all right. Now let me see," added Silas, consulting hisbooks; "fifty-five dozen live quails at three fifty per dozen--oneninety-two, fifty; less twenty-eight, leaves one sixty-four, fifty.Just step around here and sign this receipt."
David obeyed like one in a dream. He put his name to the receipt,and, scarcely knowing what he was about, thrust the package of moneywhich Silas handed him into his pocket and walked out of the store.
"There goes the proudest boy in the United States," said the grocer.
Yes, David was proud, but he was grateful, too. He was indebted toDon and Bert for his good fortune, and he was sorry that he could donothing but thank them when they came home. He went straight to thecabin, and to his great surprise and joy found his mother there. Shewas alone in the house, but David, profiting by his past experience,made a thorough examination of the premises before he said a word toher. Having thus made sure that Dan was not about, he pulled out hispackage of greenbacks and laid it in his mother's lap.
There was joy in the cabin that day. If David had never beforerealized that it is worth while to keep trying, no matter how hardone's luck may be, he realized it now. We will leave him in the fullenjoyment of his success, promising to bring him to the notice of thereader again at no distant day, in the concluding volume of thisseries, which will be entitled THE MAIL CARRIER.
THE END.
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